Author: R R Haywood
Date: 2022-09-29 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Mystery; Science Fiction; Thriller
Description: The Elfor One. The #1 bestselling Audible Original narrated by Colin Morgan Washington Post, Wall Street Journal, Amazon & Audible bestselling author, RR Haywood. One of the most downloaded indie authors in the UK with nearly four million books sold and 25+ Kindle bestsellers. WINNER OF DISCOVER SCI-FI BEST RELEASE OF 2023 **"One of the most original voices of our time." Richard Moriarty, The Sun. "Whether it's gritty horror, spectacular sci-fi, or insane comedy, RR Haywood delivers in style." Chris Riches, The Express. ** After years of confinement in the squalor of the Worldship Humility’s l
Publisher: 1899 Inc Ltd

CONTENTS

The Elfor One

I. The Elfor Way

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

II. An Elfor Kiss

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

III. The Elfor War

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

THE ELFOR ONE

THE CODE SERIES

BOOK THREE

RR HAYWOOD

PART I

THE ELFOR WAY

PROLOGUE

On Earth, when science was young, the people gave names to entities to help them relate to the world around them.

If something happened that couldn’t be explained it must have been the work of the Gods.

The all-seeing divine beings that sat invisible above everyone else.

The overseers.

Every culture, race, society and tribe had one, or many. Sometimes in different forms.

But they all had them.

Now the Earth is gone, and with it the belief held in those entities.

Yet they still exist.

And when such call demands it, those Gods meet, but they do so rarely, and they do so carefully.

Which is why there is a ship flying ahead of the fleet that is painted black and of such design that no trace of it has ever been detected. And within that ship there is a room where no person is allowed to go.

A dark and empty space that fills with light as six apparitions form a circle with equal distances between them. Vapourish and indistinct. Nothing more than ghosts – and they don’t speak until the protective anti-transmission sphere shimmers red around them and the holographic projection of a seventh form comes to life in the middle of the room.

‘What happened, Hermes?’ Plutus asks.

‘She took the ship, Plutus,’ Hermes replies from the middle while turning to face the speaking form.

‘Hermes?’ Lakshmi asks, prompting him to turn again. ‘You have some recordings for us?’

‘I do.’

‘Where are they from?’ Shango asks.

‘Pierre Jefferson’s offices. Shall I play them?’ Hermes hesitates and looks to the sixth figure who simply nods.

‘The first voice you will hear is that of Pierre, shortly after Helga had gained access to his offices,’ Hermes says as he swipes his band to play the recordings taken from the bugs in Pierre’s offices.

‘She’s bitten off more than she can chew and made a damned mess of it. Am I right, Helga?’

The angered tone of Pierre Jefferson carries clear to the six ghouls who listen as Helga replies.

‘No. You are not right, Pierre. But then you seldom are.’

‘Watch your damned mouth.’

‘You’re an old man who’s being used. You’re a puppet and nothing more. What did they promise you? Did they say you could join them?’

‘What’s she on about?’ the voice of Jean Schrieber asks.

‘She has no idea!’ Pierre shouts. ‘She’s plucking at straws. Winging it like she always does.’

‘You’re like the men in those paintings, Pierre. You think you have power. You don’t have power, Pierre. You never did and you never will, and whatever they promised you will not come true. You will not be a part of them. You’re too weak, too boastful. Those people aren’t. They hold power quietly and they use it. They don’t threaten, they take. And the only way to stand against people like that is to gain your own position of power. That’s what they did on Earth when wars were fought—’

‘ENOUGH!’ Pierre bellows. ‘Put them down. YOU PUT THEM DOWN.’

The Six stay silent as the sounds of violence play out from the recording. Screams of pain and the harsh crack of bones being broken.

‘Helga, this is enough now.’ Pierre’s voice again.

‘They’re not coming, Pierre. I am, and I brought an army with me. And that is the position of power we needed to hold the thing we have, and even if I fail here and they manage to seal the Elfors, Abdul will rally every Elforist across this fleet and bring a destruction they can’t handle.’

‘They’ve moved into Pierre’s observatory. This is the last relevant part,’ Hermes says as he skips the recording on.

‘Who caused the shuttle crash twenty-five years ago?’ Helga asks as the Six sharpen their focus.

‘Helga!’

‘ANSWER ME!’

‘They did!’ Pierre says. ‘I arranged it, but I did what they wanted. You stop this right now. These things happen, Helga. This is politics.’

‘You knew about them twenty-five years ago?’

‘No! I just knew there was something else.’

‘You’re a fool, Pierre. A damned fool, and you shouldn’t have put your hands on me.’

‘I’m sorry!’

‘Fuck your apologies. Power isn’t given, you fool. It’s taken.’

The recording cuts off as Hermes once more speaks out. ‘I believe Helga’s bodyguards had doused the observatory in flammable liquor then pressed voltage sticks together to create the sparks which engulfed them in fire. Which, of course, the AI safety system detected, and so sealed that room and jettisoned it into space, thus killing Pierre and Jean. All of which was then passed off as a tragic accident.’

‘Is that all, Hermes?’ Lakshmi asks when the quiet man falls silent.

‘The only other recording is my call to Helga and Abdul just a few moments ago as per the orders given. I shall play it now for you.’

‘Good evening, Captain Helga Sveinsson, and you too, Vice-Captain Abdul Shariff . . . My name is Hector, and I would assume, from your conversation with Pierre, that you have deduced who we are. But in case of any doubt, I represent the Six. Those being the same Six who ran Earth and who now control the fleet and everything in it. The Six decide the captains and the Six decide if the Elfors should be free or not. And let’s just say, you have gained their full attention. So, on behalf of the Six, congratulations on your success. The Humility is yours, and I for one shall certainly raise a glass in honour of your achievement. That said, I’ll leave you to your rejoicing and wish you both a pleasant evening, and when the time is right, we shall discuss the return of our code. Captain Sveinsson. Vice-Captain Shariff. Outstanding work.’

‘Thank you, Hermes,’ Lakshmi says as the quiet man steps back to allow the Six time to debate. Which is always an interesting thing for Hector to see.

It’s how they do it. The calmness within them and the control of power they grasp so easily. Hector has never heard any of them shout. They rarely swear or show any emotion at all, but then the Six was originally made up of kings and dukes from old Europe, and members of the monarchy are trained from birth to have a certain mindset.

And even if the Six now bear no real comparison to the origins of their cult, they still have that same mindset. Which really is most remarkable.

Of course, back then they were known as something else entirely. In fact, they went through many different names until their founders settled on a title in the late 1700s.

The Order of the Illuminati.

An overly romantic title that over the years ceased being used by anyone other than conspiracy theorists, while in truth, as times progressed into the New World Order, and the modern-day superpowers of America, China, Russia and Europe emerged, they chose to simply have no name at all – because by then they owned all forms of communication, so it was easy to remove all trace of who they were.

It was said they controlled everything. Politicians and the politics they made. They pitted party against party to keep the people divided and distracted because tribalism works, and in so doing they developed a system of power that was said to have orchestrated the French Revolution and the Battle of Waterloo, and overseen the assassination of John F. Kennedy.

They killed princesses in tunnels and protected dukes by creating demons in the press, and they were said to be behind many other world events of the most egregious kind.

Such rumours even suggested it was they who developed genetically modified seeds to reduce the population of Earth and therefore keep it within their defined standards of manageability. They were also said to be behind viruses and the spread of diseases, which they favoured as culling methods because war was considered too costly, too unpredictable, and just not that efficient.

Likewise, it was said they intercepted and held back vaccines and cures. Not only for the same reason of controlling population growth, but to maximise their interests in the pharmaceutical industry – given that they wholly owned and controlled the pharmaceutical industry.

As they did weapons. And technologies. Smartphones. Smart TVs. Computers. Satellites. The printing of money. The flow of money. Transportation. Planes, trains, ships, and cars. Newspapers. News stations. Print and online publishers. Hollywood. Bollywood. Music and more.

They were behind it all and the world was theirs to be shaped as they saw fit.

But then it all changed because something happened that even they couldn’t control.

The meteor came.

The meteor that galvanised humanity and brought about a level of cooperation that swept greedy, powerful families aside. Information was shared freely by scientists from all nations, and not just information on how to build spaceships, but information on vaccines and medicines and energy and food production and waste recycling and water purification.

All things the Six (or, as they were by the last times on Earth, the Twelve) controlled, but which they suddenly found themselves not controlling.

Murders and accidents followed. Poisonings and drownings. Suicides and disappearances through airlocks, and then, eventually, the Twelve became the Six, and they were no longer wealthy white men either. They were male and female, and of all colours.

‘My point is that Helga didn’t know we existed. We should never have tasked Hermes to tell her,’ Plutus says. A descendant of an illegitimate son to a British prince who was paid off to stay silent. But that son was gifted and helped develop a software system to trade digital currencies, and it was that system that the fleet was going to use. But the worldship Diligence had its own system backed and paid for by Bitcoin, and it was unacceptable to have two systems in place, so that illegitimate son – in return for inclusion in the Six– helped arrange for three ships of the Virtue fleet to collide, thereby removing the Diligence and allowing his system to be the only one in use.

Now his descendant, Plutus, owns the Fleet Finance system, with offices on board every ship and a tiny percentage taken for every transaction.

‘Plutus,’ says Lakshmi. The descendant of a young woman from the Mumbai slums who wrote a paper on the principles needed for the process of splitting the nucleus to create fission before fusion took place, and who, by the time the fleet set off, controlled many of the processes needed for human survival. Water purification and waste processing. Maintenance and construction, as well as a diverse and rich interest in many other income streams – including the manufacture, supply, and maintenance of every suicide booth in the fleet. ‘Helga won the ship, and she has been told. Now we must decide what we do next.’

‘How did Abdul get involved?’ Venus asks. ‘I swear that man gets into everything,’ she adds to a few sounds of agreement from the others.

‘Hermes?’ Lakshmi says, ‘Can you enlighten us as to Abdul’s involvement?’

‘Of course. From what I can gather the Virtue captains tasked Helga to input the navigational code into the Ark’s mainframe without anyone knowing. Unfortunately, Helga chose a man called Alexei Scrabel. A mainframe inputter. And upon realising what he had, Scrabel decided to blackmail Helga, prompting her to send Detective Zhang Woo after Scrabel to recover the code. Scrabel, however, sent the code into the Fleet Finance offices disguised as a crypto-bond. My understanding is that Scrabel then died whilst struggling with Detective Woo, leaving Helga needing to arrange a Finance office audit to recover the code without anyone knowing.’

‘Ah. The Mahatma Goudier thing makes sense now,’ Venus says.

‘Indeed,’ Hector continues. ‘Helga used Mahatma to blackmail the Fleet Finance office manager, Randolph Simpson, into running an audit to recover the lost code. However, at the same as those things were happening, a petty Elforist thief called Yasmine tricked her way into the Finance offices, hacked into the system, and duly stole that very same code. And during all of that, Abdul was somehow made aware of what Yasmine stole and subsequently sided with Helga.’

Silence for a second as they absorb the information.

‘Is Abdul a threat to us?’ Plutus asks.

‘Abdul Shariff is a table-fucking alcoholic Elforist,’ Venus replies. A woman of great physical beauty, and a descendant of the powerful Californian woman who controlled Earth’s cosmetics industry, Venus now controls the fleet’s, along with nearly every item of clothing in the fleet from fashions to uniforms. ‘My concern is that code, which I gather is now useless to them. Shango. Can they do anything with it?’

Shango shakes his head. The grandson of a miner from Zambia who killed the mine owners and took control when Earth was being plundered for essential minerals to build the ships. He secured passage and brought his minerals into the fleet and still now, one hundred and twenty years later, it’s Shango who controls the flow of those minerals and with them a share of every single piece of technology sold within the fleet. ‘No. There are only two systems that can read it. The first is the mainframe on the Ark, which we control. The second is a free file-sharing program that enthusiasts use to decipher codes for fun. Trust me. They won’t put that code into that system. My worry is that Helga said she will rally every Elforist across this fleet and bring a destruction we can’t handle.’

‘It was just a figure of speech, Shango,’ Ares says knowingly. The descendant of a former military operative assigned to protect a very powerful Russian oligarch. But then the meteor came, and it was not the oligarch that took position in the fleet, but the man sworn to protect him. Now Ares supplies every police force and security operative in the fleet with equipment and training. ‘There is no viable threat from the Elforists.’

‘Let’s talk about the code,’ Plutus says as Hector’s eyes flick to the sixth figure that has yet to speak. ‘They put a secret program into our shuttle and found out about the new planet, and that code will tell them where the bloody thing is! Even we don’t know that. We can’t have them knowing more than us about this. Too many people already know. The Humility, the Chastity, the Kindness and the Abstinence captains all know. I suggest we kill two of them and bribe the other one. Maybe offer one of them a consultancy position on the Ark’s top table of governance.’

‘Why not kill all three?’ Venus asks. ‘They must accept responsibility for their actions.’

‘That is an option,’ Shango says after a pause. ‘Ordinarily I would advise caution against such an obvious move, but perhaps the situation calls for it. This fleet will tear itself apart if it discovers there is a planet. Every ship will break formation to reach it first and we’ll risk losing control. We are not ready for that yet.’

‘We have a plan then?’ Venus asks with a look to the others. ‘We negate Vanquith, Singh and Hung-Shu, and bring Helga and Abdul on side until we’ve cleaned the mess up, then we negate them.’

‘Agreed,’ Plutus says.

‘Agreed,’ Shango and Ares say at the same time.

‘I’m afraid I don’t agree,’ Lakshmi says pointedly. ‘Helga has proven herself to be very capable. I would urge caution in how we deal with her.’

‘She took one ship, Lakshmi,’ Venus says. ‘You’re giving her too much credit.’

‘And she only did that because she had a few Elforists behind her,’ Ares adds.

‘Exactly, and the fleet has a lot of Elforists,’ Lakshmi says. ‘I advise caution.’

‘You’re always cautious!’ Venus says.

‘Which is why Lakshmi is worth more than all of you combined.’ The sixth apparition finally speaks out, bringing forth a sudden silence as the others all look over.

‘What we say and what we do ripples out through every person living in our ships, buying our clothes and cosmetics, eating our food and drink, while flying in the ships we power for them, and all the time using the technology we control to watch the content we choose. We are the Six and I will speak openly at all times.’

The Jade Emperor falls silent. Female. Chinese. China built the first shuttles to get supplies into space and they sent their people into every corner of the planet to mine and take anything that was needed with an astonishing show of discipline that left the rest of the world standing, and of the Twelve that ran Earth, the Jade Emperor is the only direct descendant still remaining in the Six.

‘Lakshmi is right to be cautious. On Earth various ethnic and religious movements destabilised several regimes. If handled wrong, we risk that here. But. If handled correctly, we have the opportunity to spread controlled fear and confusion throughout the fleet and place the focus on that issue while we manage the situation we have been left with.’

‘And the code?’ Venus asks.

‘The code is worthless to them,’ the Jade Emperor replies. ‘The leverage is in the ownership. The first rule of business is to let the other side make the first move. We don’t go to them. We wait for them to come to us. In the meantime, we will show them our power and use our various methods to destabilise the situation. There is a very big prize at stake here, and one that we will protect no matter what the cost.’

She blinks out of view. No goodbye. No last words. No anything. But then she is the Jade Emperor.

Lakshmi might be worth more than all the others combined – because while Plutus takes a percentage of every financial transaction, and Venus does the same from every item sold in retail, and Ares controls the supply of weapons and training to the police and security teams, and Shango takes a cut from every piece of technology sold that contains his minerals, Lakshmi takes a cut from every transaction they make, because Lakshmi also controls the FleetNet, and every one of those transactions takes place in her virtual space – which makes Lakshmi a very powerful person indeed.

Indeed, one might think that would make Lakshmi the most powerful person in the Six, but Hector knows that isn’t true, and after the apparitions all fade out he looks to the place occupied by that sixth figure known as the Jade Emperor.

A person who only owns one thing, but it’s always said that whoever controls the Ark controls the fleet.

And that’s the thing the Jade Emperor owns.

She owns the Ark.

1

The shuttle Escapade approaches the side of the worldship Beijing like a ferry docking at a city port.

Small and sleek, they cost a fortune to hire, but they’re also very fast, and speed is vital right now as Abdul needs to get back to the Humility because being on the Beijing isn’t safe at all. Especially not after his confrontation with Loud Leo Lin, and especially not after Sun Sing broke Leo’s niece Yuey’s legs with a flexi-pipe then shot her with the gun Yasmine used to kill Dmitri.

No. They definitely need to go.

‘Let’s hear it for Abdul!’ Fast Hands Ferdy calls out in the packed concourse as several thousand Elforists cheer and whoop at once. An entourage whipped up and fuelled with Elfor Juice and booze and brought through the lanes of the Beijing to the docking port because only an absolute fool would try and get revenge with so many Elforists around.

‘We did it!’ Ferdy roars out. ‘THE ELFORS ARE FREE!’

Another cheer erupts as Ferdy holds Abdul’s hand in the air while his name gets chanted and his back gets patted and his other hand gets gripped and shaken amid a sea of faces, necks and arms all covered in stick-figure tattoos gleaming under the UV lights glowing from wristbands.

‘Okay, okay,’ Abdul calls. ‘That thing is costing me a fortune in docking fees,’ he adds with a nod at the private shuttle.

A few more cheers, and Abdul finally heads through the docking tube with the others. Detective Zhang Woo amongst them. As dark and brooding as ever. The Beijing was Zhang’s home once. He was born and raised there. It’s not now. Not after what happened with Yuey and Leo, and definitely not after spending time with his suffocating family, trapped in their layers of tradition and spite. Besides, Kristi Carter is waiting for him. She said that. She said she’d wait for him.

A feeling inside. Lots of feelings inside. Worry. Fear. A sense of inadequacy and a sense of panic, while all the time his sex addiction demands a fix, which isn’t helped by the close proximity to his favourite prostitutes, Carla Big Lips, Honey the Money and Lick Lick Suck. He avoids looking at them. He avoids looking at anyone and finds a seat to dwell in brooding silence on everything that’s happened. His face swollen and bruised from being captured and beaten, and then fighting free of Leo’s warehouses.

Yasmine takes a seat too. Towards the back with Abdul and Penny. With Colin, Clara, Boris and Pasha. Sun Sing and her mother Yolo with them because it wouldn’t be safe for them to stay on the Beijing either. Not after tonight.

Yasmine glances at Sam, who seems to detect her gaze and offers a smile. But it’s not the same smile he had before. It’s not that easy grin of his that always reaches his eyes, but then he’s been through hell too. His former best friend, Osmosis, got under his skin and convinced Sam they were all using him, and that Yasmine wouldn’t have sex with Sam because she was still in love with Dmitri.

What an awful thing to do. How could anyone do something like that? And despite being an Elfor born and bred and seeing suffering and squalor of the worst kind, it still never ceases to amaze Yasmine the evils people will do to each other. Osmosis was meant to be Sam’s friend. That must hurt. Fuck. Everything about it must hurt. Especially with Osmosis playing Yasmine’s sexual assault footage to Sam in Confucius Square. Yasmine thinks that was probably the worst time of her life. Worse even than when Dmitri raped her. That was bad. That was beyond bad. He hurt her a lot, but he only did it to her – yet by playing the footage, that same pain was given to other people too.

She sighs again, not knowing what to think. Sore as hell and she stinks something rotten. She looks at her knuckles, swollen from fighting, fingers her cut lips and bruised cheeks and catches reflection of her matted hair and the filth streaked over her face while people like Penny and Carla and Honey and Lick all look so glamorous.

Yet despite all of that, despite all of those awful things, Sam is still smiling at her. Even if that smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and even if there’s a tougher glint in his eyes that she’s never seen before, he is still smiling at her.

She smiles back as the shuttle decouples from the docking tube and drops away from the bigger vessel. The burners kick in and they feel the thrust of the engines propelling them into space to cross the ten thousand miles to the last ship on the other side of the fleet. To the dysfunctional, violent, broken place that they all call home.

To the Humility.

* * *

And on that ship, at the very top, in an office on Level 1, a woman with cold blue eyes stands at a window, staring out to the front of the vessel and the seemingly infinite pinpricks of light making up the backdrop of space beyond.

The view is like a painting. It never changes. It never moves. The Humility, and the whole fleet, are flying at an incredible speed – every second breaks a new record for the speed of human travel – yet that view never changes because there’s nothing to mark their passage against.

It’s like they’re all suspended in nothing. Not going anywhere and not moving at all and Helga frowns as she thinks back to an hour or so ago when she set Pierre’s observatory on fire and watched him fly off into space. If they were on a plane, or a train on Earth, the body would be caught by the friction in the air and sent flying backwards, but that didn’t happen. Pierre, Jean and his security team, along with all the furniture and plants, flew out, with only the energy expended by the AI anti-fire system propelling them away from the ship, spinning over and over until they were gone from view. Nothing more than objects in the void that could fly on until the gravitational pull of whatever is biggest and closest eventually drags them down into an atmosphere, or into a meteor or a comet. Or perhaps they’ll fly on forever and never hit anything.

But anyway. Fuck Pierre. He should never have put his hands on her. What was he thinking?

‘Stupid puta,’ she whispers and turns away to stare into her office, her mind busy with thoughts of her conversation with Hector.

The Six exist then. Not that she knew they were called the Six. Helga, like many people, had heard the stories and rumours, and being a high-level politician had certainly opened her eyes enough to suspect there could be more going on, that no one ever saw or imagined, but to have that confirmed in such an open way was very interesting indeed.

It was also an enticement – because no one would ever mention such a thing unless they were planting a seed. A seed which no doubt would eventually hint that the Six could become the Seven. And what a thing that would be. To have that kind of power.

Except it would never happen.

They would have said the same thing to Pierre, in fact she can imagine Hector telling Pierre that the Six had long monitored and respected his dedication to service and supreme political abilities. And let’s just say, the Six are very interested in your future, but first, let’s talk about you running for captaincy again, and how the Six feel that a stronger line should be taken against the Elfors.

It would have been something like that, and even if Pierre had succeeded, they would never have taken him on. Pierre was brilliant when he was younger, but that brilliance only extended to himself and his ability to secure captaincy of one ship, and not even one of the biggest ships at that.

And despite Pierre being born into wealth and entitlement, he would never be someone of that type. Someone willing to pull strings from the shadows.

Which also means that neither is Helga, which also means that the Six would never invite her in, and that, in turn, renders that call a threat, because by naming themselves and trying to plant that seed, they were commencing the grooming process that would ultimately result in Helga, and probably Abdul too, being invited somewhere to meet them. At which point they would be killed. A terrible loss. An awful accident. The fleet mourns them, but we must move on.

Something like that.

Which is very chilling indeed, but it’s also best to know your enemy and what they intend so you can shape how you respond.

And exactly how does she plan to respond?

She frowns again. Thinking it all through, while also realising that the whole code thing isn’t the only dire situation to deal with.

She just gave freedom to the Elfors.

She did that.

She removed all of the stair guards.

Which means there are probably thousands of Elforists pouring up into the ship to riot and loot with an explosion of freedom which, in turn, means there will be gangs of angry Humility residents wanting to fight back.

A knock on her office door. She nods to her guards Ivan and Olga standing sentinel and waits for Ivan to hit the pad for the door to swish back and let Jorgey Raynor step inside.

Her face streaked with grime and blood and a voltage stick still clipped to her side. But then Helga’s face is the same. Marked from the battles they faced, her flexi-pipe tucked into her waistband. She rather likes the feel of it. The solidity and the pressure against her hip. It makes her feel like one of her Viking ancestors leaping from a longboat to charge the beach and ransack the English village.

‘I still can’t believe we did it, Jorgey,’ she says with a faint smile as Jorgey walks in.

The chief of police comes to a stop to stare into Helga’s cold blue eyes. ‘I know there’s more going on,’ Jorgey says quietly. Mistrustful to the core yet still feeling compelled to follow Helga. There’s something about her. Something none of them can explain. An energy maybe. A force inside radiating out. ‘Anyway,’ Jorgey finally says, dropping the eye-contact. ‘Abdul’s shuttle has left the Beijing. They’ll be here in an hour.’

‘Good. That gives me time to fill you in then,’ Helga says, earning a sharp look in response. ‘I think you deserve the truth, Jorgey, but trust me, you will wish you didn’t know . . .’

* * *

As Helga begins to talk, and Jorgey’s mouth falls open, so Abdul stares up at the digital ceiling showing the universe outside of their shuttle. The other ships in the fleet spread out; the Goliath Ark in the middle with the stars beyond. Pinpricks of light that never seem to alter or move.

It’s easy to forget that they are in space and living inside metal boxes travelling through a freezing, airless void and Abdul drifts off into his own thoughts, only snapping back when Yasmine, Clara and several others begin to admonish Sam for taking such a big swig of Elfor Juice.

‘Sweetie pie! I said a sip,’ Clara says, chiding him like a mother as she passes the bottle to Yasmine’s protégée, Sun Sing.

‘I thought you promised to stop mothering him,’ Sun says, before taking a gulp.

‘Yeah, not with Elfor Juice you dumb shit,’ Yasmine says, making Sun laugh mid-gulp and spray the Elfor Juice in Clara’s face.

‘Yassy! You got that damned juice all over me!’

‘Sun sprayed it. Not me!’

Abdul laughs along with the others as Sun offers the bottle to Colin. ‘He never touches it,’ Abdul says, leaning over to take it from her. He sits back to take a hit and gasps at the burn from the bright yellow liquid sliding down his throat, bringing forth a rush of peace and harmony and a feeling that everything is okay.

Except it isn’t okay, and without warning the shuttle flips over and starts tumbling chaotically as the grav-drives fail with a sudden shift in centrifugal force.

From calm to chaos within a split second. No warning. No sirens. No alarms. Just all of them flying up from their chairs and the ship around them spinning as they are sucked into the shifting gravity.

Around and around they go, with the sickening crunch of bodies hitting tables bolted to the floor and chairs sent tumbling with them. Noses break with blood spurting. A dancer slams into the wall so hard she slumps unconscious and flies off like a rag doll into those closest, breaking an arm and a leg as the screams of pain and panic escalate.

Sven reacts fast from decades of his life spent in dangerous environments, and like any trained engineer he keeps the three-points-of-contact rule without realising he is doing it. Two feet on the floor and one hand on something grabbable, and it saves his life, because as the shuttle spins his feet push harder under the legs of the table bolted to the floor and his left hand grips the edge as his body flies up, anchoring him in place while feeling the weight of gravity pulling him to the ceiling then to the wall as the ship rolls fast enough to induce a gravitational effect.

‘The thrusters are firing wrong!’ he shouts, using the swinging motion to kick at the door to the pilot’s cockpit. ‘Turn the fucking thrusters off!’ he yells again as a young Elfor man brought over to serve drinks slams into the wall next to Sven with a sickening crunch, his splintered forearm bone punching out through his skin. ‘RESET IT!’ Sven yells. ‘WE’RE SPINNING OUT!’

‘I’m trying!’ a shout comes from the other side. ‘It’s not responding.’

‘What isn’t?’ Sven asks, staring at the closed door.

‘Everything!’ the pilot yells back as Sven scowls then twists to get two hands on the table, feeling the thrum coming through the shuttle’s frame into the bolted-down furniture. But the thrum is too much, which suggests the starboard side thruster is burning on full, sending them into the wild roll.

‘Burn the port side!’ he yells. ‘We need to level out!’

‘I CAN’T!’ the pilot shouts as the door wrenches open for Sven to see inside the cockpit and the pilot, with one arm through his safety harness, trying not to float off at the same time as tapping and swiping at his inert screens. ‘It’s not responding.’

‘Kill the power,’ Sven urges, seeing the look of panic on the pilot’s face. ‘Hit the kill switch damn you! We’re in a death roll.’

The pilot flips the hinged lid from a bright red switch on the side of his console and with a look of fear, flips the switch, and Sven feels the thruster easing as the vibration coming through the table lessens.

‘Everyone hold on!’ Sven calls out. ‘We’ve hit the kill switch. The side thruster has cut out.’

‘Why are we still spinning then?’ Yasmine asks, clinging onto a grip point on the ceiling as she, and everyone else, presses back into the outer walls from the gravitational pull caused by the spinning vessel.

‘It’s called physics,’ Sven says, glancing back to the pilot jabbing at his screen. ‘It’s okay. We’re going to be okay. The kill switch shuts everything down then the shuttle’s AI kicks back in and resets the system. It’ll level us out. Pilot? How we looking?’

‘Jesus, Sven. I thought you were just a pipe bender,’ Penny says.

‘Pilot!’ Sven snaps.

‘It’s not responding,’ the pilot says, trying again to swipe and press at his screens. ‘It won’t fucking respond!’

‘You need to stay calm,’ Sven says. ‘Everyone just hold on. The AI will kick in any minute.’

But the AI doesn’t kick in and a second later, while they cling to whatever they can reach, and while the pilot swipes at his non-responsive screens, the power cuts out and the lights die, plunging them into pure darkness.

The screams come back. Screams of fear at not being able to see as the air vents stop working and the internal temperature plunges fast, sending a sinister chill through all of them as Sven looks around, trying to detect any trace of light at all but seeing nothing.

‘Seven minutes,’ an automated voice crackles from a speaker in the cockpit, prompting fresh screams and cries of terror, because everyone knows what the seven-minute warning means.

It only happened once before.

A private shuttle suffered a malfunctioning thruster that flipped it over into a death roll before sending them off in the wrong direction.

They were gone from sight within two minutes, and within another five they’d lost all comms and couldn’t be reached. They were never heard of again.

Seven minutes was all it took.

After that, the seven-minute warning system was rigged up in every shuttle and now it blares out from the cockpit, sending fresh waves of panic through those trapped inside the pitch-black metal container, growing colder by the second.

It even sends a surge of terror through Sven, who has to force himself to breathe deeply, swallow the panic and focus on the priority, and right now they need light. He swipes at his band for the interface to bloom up and create artificial light, except it doesn’t work. He swipes again, then again, but nothing. He taps his band, but it still doesn’t respond.

‘My band’s not working.’ A voice floats from the darkness, prompting more people to swipe and tap at their bands and cry out when they fail to work too.

‘STAY CALM!’ Colin shouts over the screams of panic. ‘Clara? You got a hand free to bring up a light? I’m holding about three people.’

‘Negative, Commander,’ Clara says.

‘Boris? Pash?’

‘Negative, Commander,’ Boris says.

‘Negative,’ Pasha says. All of them answering fast and hard but calm and controlled.

‘Zhang?’ Colin asks.

‘Nope. Mine got taken by Leo’s guys,’ Zhang says, while trying to feel around for whoever is closest. ‘Who is that?’ he asks.

‘Me,’ Lick says as Zhang accidentally brushes the soft swell of her chest. ‘I normally charge for that,’ she quips with a voice trembling in fear as he finds her band. ‘You got it? I think it’s offline or something.’

‘Detective? Update,’ Colin calls.

‘Negative, Commander,’ Zhang says. ‘It’s dead.’

‘Mine isn’t working,’ Penny calls.

‘Mine’s dead,’ Abdul says at the same time.

‘Same,’ Ferdy says.

‘How is that possible?’ Colin calls out. ‘Sven? What’s happening?’

‘No idea. I worked engines, not bands. Ask Sam.’

‘The main computer must have been hit,’ Sam says, his voice floating into the darkness.

‘What does that mean?’ Colin asks. ‘In plain language.’

‘Six minutes,’ the automated voice blares out, prompting more screams as Sam clears his throat. Trying to think.

‘The main unit controls everything. Propulsion. Navigation. Gravity. Electronics and all the life-support systems. That must have been hit. It’s the only viable reason.’

‘So you’re saying a meteorite has hit us?’ Colin asks.

‘No. I meant hit as in something has happened to it. A bug or a virus, or it’s crashed,’ Sam says.

‘We’d know if it was a meteor,’ Sven says.

‘How?’ someone asks.

‘Cos we’d all be cartwheeling outside instead of inside. Pilot!’ Sven yells. ‘What’s going on?’

‘The main unit’s dead.’

‘Have you got comms?’ Colin calls.

‘Negative. Nothing.’

‘Okay. Why would comms be down, Sam?’ Colin asks.

‘The main unit controls everything,’ Sam says. ‘It receives and transmits the net signals and comms.’

‘But why aren’t our bands working, Sam?’ Abdul asks.

‘I don’t know,’ Sam says. ‘I can’t reach mine to check. Someone’s holding onto me.’

‘Whoever is holding onto Sam needs to let go,’ Colin says.

‘I’m not letting go!’ someone says in pure panic. One of the dancers is crying in fear.

‘Hang on,’ Yasmine says, working over the bodies next to her towards Sam’s voice.

‘What was that!’ the young dancer cries out.

‘It’s me,’ Yasmine says. ‘Let go of Sam. I’ve got you. Okay? Sam? You free?’

‘I’m free,’ Sam says as the dancer glides off into Yasmine’s arms. He swipes at his wrist bringing forth instant light as his system blooms up to a chorus of gasps.

‘How is yours working?’ Colin asks.

‘I don’t know,’ Sam says, bringing up enough light for everyone else to see where they are; gasps of relief echo into the space.

‘Pilot!’ Sven shouts. ‘We’ve got a band working.’

‘Hang on. I just want to check something,’ Sam says, punching into his hacking software.

‘We are falling behind the fleet!’ the pilot snaps, unfastening his safety harness to clamber out. ‘Fleet protocol dictates that a rescue will not be attempted after a certain distance is gained from the main fleet.’

‘We’ve got six minutes,’ Sam says, still typing into his virtual keyboard.

‘Five minutes.’

‘Give me your band!’ the pilot calls, climbing over people to reach Sam while Colin and Sven do the same, converging on Sam as he swipes into his screens. ‘You can’t control propulsion from a wristband,’ the pilot says. ‘Listen. You’ve got about three seconds to give me access before I ask these people to remove it from you, and under fleet law I have the power to—’

‘There,’ Sam says, cutting him off. ‘Which one is it?’

‘What?’ the pilot asks, staring in shock at Sam’s screens showing the shuttle’s systems. ‘How did you get into that?’

‘He’s a hacker,’ Colin says.

‘Is that the main shuttle system?’ Sven asks.

Sam nods as the pilot and the others stare at the confusing array of symbols and streams of data on the screen.

‘This isn’t right,’ the pilot says. ‘If the system is dead, how can we see it?’

Sam frowns at the question and realises the guy is right because what Sam brought up is the live data feeds from the shuttle’s systems, which are all active. Except they’re not, because the lights inside the shuttle are off and there’s no air coming out of the vents, and nothing else is working. ‘Er, give me a mo,’ he says as he starts typing.

‘I’m cold,’ the dancer holding onto Yasmine says, her teeth already chattering.

‘Come here,’ Honey the Money says, reaching out to pull them both in as Carla Big Lips and Lick Lick Suck clamber over to press into one group. ‘Come on, don’t be shy. We need to stay warm.’

‘Sam?’ Colin asks.

‘I’m not that cold,’ Sam says.

‘I’m not asking you for a cuddle, you idiot. I’m asking you to tell me what’s happening.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Sam says, not paying any attention as he delves into the digital signals his system can detect.

‘Just let him work,’ Yasmine says as the others call for Sam to tell them what he’s doing.

They fall quiet for a moment as people move into the huddle to try and stay warm as the temperature drops fast.

No engines.

No life-support.

No anything.

The fear increases with the realisation that they are trapped inside a small vessel with very limited air and no propulsion to catch up to the fleet. Plus, everyone knows the fleet will never stop for a broken shuttle.

‘Four minutes,’ the voice calls, each update bringing them closer to death and prompting fresh cries of terror.

But then Sam spots that the shuttle isn’t broken. In fact, everything seems to be working just fine.

‘But if it’s working then why isn’t it working?’ he asks no one in particular, while those around him fight the urge to scream and panic.

‘What is that?’ Zhang asks, climbing closer to peer at the screens.

‘You can read that stuff?’ Colin asks.

‘A bit,’ Zhang replies, staring at the symbols denoting the various systems. It’s complex stuff for sure, but Zhang used to hack movie posters back on the Beijing before he fell in with the gangs, and he still retains enough knowledge to spot one line of repeating code. ‘That? What is that?’ he asks, then realises why Sam’s band is the only one working. ‘Is that a hack?’ Zhang asks in a whisper.

Sam nods, reading the rogue code again.

‘That’s why your band is still working,’ Zhang says, quiet enough for only those closest to hear. Colin and Sven. Yasmine, Penny, Janey and Abdul. The inner circle only. All of them clustering around Sam. ‘Sam’s a hacker,’ Zhang whispers to the others. ‘His band isn’t connected like ours and I’m guessing he’s protected it and routed his digital ID through proxy servers, which means it’s not connected via one single point of data entry like we all are, which is through the shuttle’s system.’

‘What the fuck?’ Yasmine asks.

Zhang pauses to read the screens again. ‘Every time we move anywhere in the fleet our bands automatically log into the closest data entry point. It’s how we stay connected. And once we boarded the shuttle, we were all transferred onto the shuttle’s data entry point, but that went down, so our bands have gone down.’

‘It’s more than that,’ Sam says quietly. ‘This code is hacking all of your bands to prevent them working.’

‘Who the hell would do that?’ Penny asks.

‘Three minutes.’

‘Forget the how and the who,’ Abdul says. ‘We’ve got less than three minutes.’

‘Sven, what’s the priority?’ Colin asks. ‘We need propulsion, right? Sam, can you get the burners going?’

‘No,’ Sven says quickly. ‘We need to stabilise before we burn, or we’ll veer off.’

‘Stabilise what?’ Sam asks. ‘I’m a hacker, not a pilot.’

‘You, Pilot,’ Colin says, reaching over to drag the guy in closer over the ceiling. ‘Tell him what to fix first.’

‘We need the whole thing!’ the pilot says. ‘The AI will stabilise the vessel and let us catch up.’

‘Sam, how long to clear the whole thing and reset it?’ Sven asks.

‘Er, about five minutes probably.’

‘We don’t have five minutes,’ Abdul says.

‘Sven, what’s the next option?’ Colin asks. ‘EVERYONE SHUT UP! Sven, next option. We don’t have time to reset.’

‘Get comms back on and send a Mayday,’ the pilot says.

‘What pilot school did you go to?’ Sven asks him. ‘The whole system is run by an AI. It knows we’ve fallen off the route and right now it’s lighting up and telling everyone in the Ark’s control rooms where we are and what’s happening. Sending a Mayday only makes us feel better. What we need to do is get the thrusters back online so we can keep moving in the right direction to keep us within rescue range. Sam, we need to stabilise. That icon there is for the stabilising system. We need that back online first.’

‘Okay,’ Sam says, nodding, and he starts off by creating a protective program around the stabilising system to isolate it before he clears the hack, thereby preventing the insidious code from sliding back in.

‘Two minutes,’ the automated voice announces.

‘Done!’ Sam says.

‘HOLD ON!’ Sven yells as the stabilising system quickly detects the out-of-control spin and works to correct it by burning the aft, bow and port-side thrusters on and off with rapid bursts to stabilise the tumbling spin. They feel the effect nearly instantly as the gravitational pull sends them towards the back of the shuttle, then the front, then the side and the floor.

A few seconds of vomit-inducing motion and the ship seems to settle, with the effects of gravity instantly gone as their bodies and everything else not fixed down become weightless.

‘We’re stable,’ Sven says, kicking off to look outside the cockpit window to the fleet. It’s worryingly far ahead, but the view holds and doesn’t spin or tumble. ‘Burners!’ he yells, kicking off again to swim back to Sam. ‘Aft burners, Sam. Get them on!’

‘What the? Where are they?’ Sam asks, trying to read the symbols.

‘Here,’ Sven says, getting to his side to point into the section needed.

‘How do you know this?’ Colin asks.

‘One minute thirty.’

‘I trained to be a pilot,’ Sven says. ‘Years ago, before I went into engineering.’

‘I am a fucking pilot!’ the pilot says. ‘Get the comms on to send the Mayday. That’s the protocol.’

‘Maybe we should get that Mayday out,’ Colin says. ‘Sam, use your band to send a request for help.’

‘Sam, keep working on the thrusters,’ Sven says, as Sam types to isolate and protect the next section while the freezing cold of space leaches the heat from the shuttle.

‘One minute.’

‘We are fucked,’ the pilot snaps. ‘Well done! You just killed us all.’ He cuts off with a grunt as a fist smacks into his face, and Yasmine glares angrily while rubbing her knuckles. ‘You’ll do time for that,’ the pilot says, from behind the hand holding his bloody nose. ‘It’s a federal crime to assault a shuttle pilot.’

‘Honey, you are in a shuttle full of Elforists,’ Clara says as the pilot clocks the glares coming his way and falls silent. ‘Pretty Boy? How we looking there, sugar?’

‘Almost,’ Sam mutters. ‘It’s a bit harder to isolate just one set of thrusters.’

‘Thirty seconds,’ the automated voice says. A silence stretches through the shuttle as one by one they all realise they are about to be left behind and slowly freeze to death. Sven suppresses the urge to tell Sam to do it faster.

They wait.

And wait.

‘Ten seconds.’

‘We don’t need a final countdown for fuck’s sake,’ Yasmine says.

‘Nine.’

‘Jesus, Sam,’ Colin mutters, rubbing the stress from his face.

‘Eight.’

‘Sam,’ Penny urges softly, clenching her hands into tight balls.

‘Seven.’

‘You can do it, Sam,’ Yasmine says.

‘Six.’

‘Come on, Pretty Boy, you got this,’ Clara calls.

‘Five.’

‘Go on, Sam!’ Boris shouts as a few more join in.

‘Four.’

‘Nail it, Sam,’ Sven urges.

‘Three.’

‘Sam,’ Abdul says, his voice low and soft. ‘We’re behind you, whatever happens.’

‘Two.’

Sam’s fingers tremble with emotion; having grown up without a father, Abdul’s words touch him deeply.

‘One.’

‘Dear god,’ the pilot whimpers, clamping his eyes closed.

‘Done!’ Sam announces, pressing the button to activate the aft thrusters as Sven yells a warning, but it’s too late and the thrusters respond, with everyone inside screaming as they tumble towards the rear of the shuttle from the G-force energy.

‘TURN IT OFF!’ someone yells.

‘NO! BURN IT,’ Sven yells, clinging onto a table as he fights the forces against him to get a view through the cockpit to the window at the front. ‘HOLD IT ON, SAM . . . We have to catch up.’

‘My face is being ripped off,’ Yasmine says, clinging on for dear life.

‘You needed a facelift,’ Sun yells from somewhere as they grunt and tense and feel the increasingly crushing weight driving into them.

‘MORE, SAM!’ Sven yells, glancing back to see Colin, Abdul and Clara all fighting to hold Sam in place so he can access his screens and a second later they too cry out from the increasing pressure as the shuttle accelerates.

Seconds go by. Brutal, vicious pain-filled seconds of pressure driving into their chests and stomachs. Making it hard to breathe as more than a few start blacking out but still Sven stares ahead with tears rolling down his cheeks as he keep his eyes locked on the Ark ahead. The enormous vessel is the visual point of reference to measure distance against and for a few awful seconds nothing seems to change, until Sven blinks and shakes his head and looks again to see if it’s closer.

‘YES! KEEP GOING!’ he yells, feeling the shuttle vibrate from the astonishing power being pumped through the aft burners. A crass and awful way to fly anything, but that’s the beauty of space because sometimes you can just burn on and worry about the fine details when you get closer.

‘One minute,’ the automated voice calls out as Sven yells at Sam to increase the power. ‘Two minutes.’

‘We’re getting closer,’ Sven yells as they hit the three-minute mark, then the four and the five, the six, the seven, and the voice cuts off.

‘Okay, Sam. Kill it!’ Sven yells as the burners turn off and the vibration eases, but the vessel keeps moving without friction or air to slow it, and once the burners have stopped, the already isolated stabilisers kick in to smooth out the trajectory.

A few minutes of life gained as the shuttle moves within the nucleus of the fleet. A few minutes for Sam to work on and kill the hack.

‘Fuck you,’ Sam mutters, and a second later the systems all reactivate to a chorus of gasps and cries of relief.

The lights come back on, and air starts flowing from the vents with an instant increase in heat from the internal AI system detecting the low temperature.

The screens in the cockpit light up and the shuttle’s AI detects the vessel is not in the position it should be for the planned route and the thrusters start burning to navigate it back through the fleet towards the Humility.

And one more thing happens: the ceiling digitises again, giving everyone a view of the fleet, and the shocking sight of not one single shuttle or rescue craft coming for them.

Nothing.

‘Where’s the rescue?’ Colin asks as the pilot swims into the cockpit to use the fleet shuttle comms system.

‘MAYDAY! MAYDAY! This is the Shuttle Escapade. We’ve experienced a full system failure.’

A pause before a voice comes back through the speaker.

‘Er, Shuttle Escapade, this is the Ark control room. Are you sure? Because we’re seeing your position on the planned trajectory as usual.’

‘Negative. We had a full system failure. We fell behind. Ping us.’

‘I am pinging you, Escapade, and you are showing on your planned trajectory.’

Colin shares a look with Zhang as Abdul frowns and listens to the exchange.

‘Escapade, this is the Ark. We know you’ve got the Elforist party on board from the Beijing. Is this some kind of Elfor joke?’

‘What the fuck?’ the pilot mouths as Abdul feels his band vibrating. A call incoming. He swipes to answer it and keeps the screen small.

‘I was trying to call you,’ Helga says with a look of concern. ‘I tried Penny and Janey, but you were all offline. What’s happened?’

Abdul opens his mouth to tell her what happened but stops to choose his words carefully. ‘A bug in the main unit caused a temporary engine failure,’ he says carefully.

‘My god! Are you okay? I’ll call the Ark.’

‘We’re fine. We’re coming back, but we’ve got injured, and probably a few dead. We’ll need med teams to meet us at the dock.’

‘There are no med teams,’ Helga says. ‘There’s no anything. The ship is still tearing itself apart. Just hurry back, we’ll do what we can.’

He cuts the call and frowns as Hector’s words come back to his mind.

. . . the Six decide the captains and the Six decide if the Elfors should be free or not. And let’s just say, you have gained their full attention.

Abdul grunts while figuring these shuttles have been running non-stop for over one hundred and twenty years. Shit breaks. Shit goes wrong. Shit happens.

Or?

Or maybe the Six just flexed their muscles with a show of power to get his attention.

Either way, one thing is for sure: this is far from over.

2

Level 1 on the worldship Humility.

A wide corridor in soft whites and subtle greys lined with doors leading to offices and conference rooms. A few chairs and a small sofa litter a wider waiting area with a synthetic wood-effect reception desk off to one side. Potted plants and works of art on the walls all help imbue the feeling of a calm and professional place.

A place normally filled with admin, aides, security personnel and high-ranking councillors engaged in the serious business of running a worldship.

Now that corridor stands empty because the security personnel are all dead after being airlocked by Helga, and the aides, admin and councillors are all hiding in their cabins waiting for the carnage to end, while watching the ongoing drama of the Elfor emancipation on FleetNews, most of it filmed by FleetNewsCast reporter Kristi Carter – and even if they were here, they’d be rushing about with glowing screens, arranging meetings to develop action plans and creating press releases while clutching beakers of coffee and talking in whispered tones with facial expressions of intense sincerity.

What they wouldn’t be doing is bleeding on the walls, or puking over the desk, or on the plants, or tripping over the sofa and chairs in the waiting area while swearing loudly and repeatedly – because this is Level 1.

A calm place.

A professional place.

A place where the doors to the executive elevator open at the same time as the doors to the stairwell slam back, and the whole seething bunch comes spilling out just as Helga strides from her office, blanching slightly at the sight of a dozen Elforists with Abdul. All of them bruised and cut with swollen lips and puffy faces. All of them with torn filthy clothes from being flipped about inside the shuttle. Stomachs churning and heads spinning.

‘What the actual fuck!’ Yasmine snaps, flapping her hands out. ‘Our shuttle just went nuts.’

‘Yes. I’m aware,’ Helga says. ‘Please, let’s get you all inside the conference room.’

‘Fuck the fucking conference room!’ Yasmine says. ‘Who the fuck did it?’

‘Not here, Yasmine,’ Helga says.

Penny sways and clutches her belly, looking ready to puke. ‘My belly’s still flipping over,’ she says.

‘And it was so frightening,’ Janey says, tears streaking her cheeks, vomit staining on her front.

‘But how the hell would anyone do that?’ Sun asks, wide-eyed and clearly shocked.

‘Shuttles don’t just lose power,’ Sven says.

‘Sabotage,’ Zhang says at the same time.

‘Oh god,’ Penny also says as she turns away quickly to vomit on a potted plant.

‘Oh god, she’s setting me off,’ Janey says with a heave as she turns away to puke over the reception desk.

‘Why would anyone sabotage a shuttle?’ Sun asks.

‘Not here!’ Helga insists, trying to usher them on.

‘Sam said it had been hacked,’ Yasmine says. ‘Sam, you said that. You said it had been hacked, right?’

‘I said not here!’ Helga snaps angrily. ‘Inside. Now!’

A few shared looks, but they do as they’re told. Everyone now silent because Helga Sveinsson, the Ice Queen herself, has told them to shut up. She who, by all accounts, just airlocked Pierre and his entire security team.

‘Get inside. Sit down,’ Abdul orders, bringing up the rear to keep them moving.

‘Quickly now and not another word until we get the security bubble up. And Abdul? You’re not a councillor anymore. You’re a vice-captain, sit at that end with me please,’ Helga adds as Abdul heads for one of the cheap seats, but then it is the same room they use for the councillor meetings so one can hardly blame him.

He nods in response and walks around the table towards the slightly raised top tier normally reserved for Helga and Pierre. Still full of adrenaline and fear and covered in blood and puke from the astonishing events of a crazy day and an even crazier night.

A feeling of chaos in the charged air. Too many things are happening too quickly and Helga blinks rapidly and inflates her lungs as deeply as she can while walking around the table to Abdul’s side; she slowly exhales to regain composure and at least pretend she’s in control.

But she can’t help feeling weak in the legs at the thought of the shuttle losing power like that.

She’d got the call while still in her offices that the shuttle was docking, and that they had injured from an onboard incident. That’s all Abdul had said. She’d rushed down with Jorgey and Faiza. With Kristi Carter and Dil and Marko and the other Elforists to the Level 30 docking port where Sam had spent years of his life opening and closing a fully automated airlock that never even needed a person to operate it.

And from that airlock they’d looked on in shock at the sight of Yasmine and Sun Sing carrying the unconscious body of a young dancer from Neon City, and Clara behind them with another unconscious form draped in her arms, and more after that.

It was a scene of absolute carnage, and the floor quickly filled with the injured being laid down and Yolo Sing using her medical knowledge to triage the most seriously hurt. Wrapping cuts in bandages taken from the first aid kits while others activated self-compressing AI padding to broken limbs.

Then Helga spotted Kristi swiping to activate her camera. ‘No!’ she yelled quickly. ‘Not this!’

‘You can’t tell me what to film!’ Kristi said.

Helga knew she’d made a mistake by telling Kristi not to film these scenes, but she also knew that showing the fleet this had just happened was the wrong thing at the wrong time, and for a second even she felt the panic and didn’t know what to say or do – then the answer came from a most unlikely source.

‘A captain has every right to enforce a media blackout on events directly linked to the security of their vessel,’ Colin called over, standing tall amid the carnage. ‘It’s an act under Federal Law.’

‘Are you seriously blocking me?’ Kristi asked.

‘Nobody is blocking you, Miss Carter,’ Colin said with a tone of perfect authority. ‘But the security of this vessel takes precedence over your ratings.’

‘You’re not even a cop!’ she fired back.

‘But I am,’ Jorgey said. ‘And this is suppressed.’

‘What? No!’ Kristi said as she saw the firm looks coming back at her. ‘Fine. But I am recording it to show later when the blackout is lifted.’

‘Captain. My advice is to order removal of the press,’ Colin said.

‘Wait!’ Kristi tried to say.

‘Kristi. Out,’ Helga ordered.

‘What the hell!’

‘Clara. Escort Miss Carter to the exit please,’ Colin ordered.

‘She’s not a cop either!’ Kristi yelled as Clara ushered her on.

‘Come on now sugar, don’t let this get ugly,’ Clara said with a nod to the exit.

‘Fine!’ Kristi snapped with a glare to Helga then to Zhang, who just blinked and shrugged with a helpless expression. ‘Next time you need my camera you can fuck off. And a media blackout needs to be ratified. It can’t be given vocally.’

‘It will be ratified in due course,’ Jorgey added as Kristi swept out of the room.

‘If I see a camera on or anyone recording there will be an issue,’ Abdul shouted. ‘This is between us, and it stays between us,’ he added, with a glare to the dancers and servers taken from Neon City to the Beijing, all sobbing and hurt from the violent spin of the shuttle failing. ‘And of course, you will all be compensated for your injuries,’ he added, because all credits are good credits, no questions asked.

‘What about him?’ Yasmine asked as the shuttle pilot tried to dart back through the airlock but found Sven stepping in with a strong hand clamping on his shoulder.

Jorgey hesitated and shot a look to Colin. Making wide eyes for him to help her out because she still didn’t have a clue what was going on.

‘He needs detaining,’ Colin said quietly.

‘Detain him!’ Jorgey ordered.

‘You can’t detain me!’ the pilot shouted as Sven increased his grip and made the guy yelp. ‘I’m a pilot!’

‘And the shuttle needs impounding,’ Colin added.

‘And that shuttle is impounded,’ Jorgey ordered.

‘What!? You can’t! It’s privately owned!’ The pilot yelled while swiping at his band. ‘I’m not having this. I’m calling the office.’

‘Take his wristband,’ Jorgey said as Zhang rushed over to help Sven. ‘Faiza. Get him over to that damn café and find somewhere to hold him.’

‘The café?’ Zhang asked. ‘Chief, he’s got rights. He needs to go into custody at the station.’

‘There is no station, Zhang!’ Jorgey yelled back. ‘There are no cops on duty. No custody staff. We’re it.’

‘Are you shitting me?’ Zhang asked with a look of horror. ‘What about med services? We’ve got injured.’

‘And deceased,’ Boris added, pulling a silver sheet over the body of a young man with a broken neck.

‘There’s nobody left,’ Jorgey said with a look to Helga. ‘They’re too scared to work now the Elfors are free.’

‘We’ll just have to do what we can,’ Abdul said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ‘We’ll get the injured to the café and—’

‘We need to talk,’ Helga cut in. ‘Dil, Marko. Take control here. Get the injured to the café and do what you can for them. Faiza, get that pilot secured somewhere, and lads? He is not to be hurt. Understood?’

‘We got it,’ Dil said as Helga nodded firmly.

‘Everyone else up to Level 1 please because we really need to talk.’

* * *

‘Okay,’ Helga says in the conference room as she swipes at the system controls and activates the protective blue sphere that glows up around them. ‘Blocks any bugs,’ she adds on seeing a few of them startle at being enclosed within a field of blue light. ‘Which means we can speak freely.’

She stops with a sudden glance at the blue sphere that she knows nothing about. Only that they have it and that it’s meant to block anyone from recording or being able to listen from outside. But suddenly, she’s not so sure. ‘Sam? This sphere. Is it secure?’

‘Sorry, what?’ Sam asks, blinking back from his own thoughts.

‘This sphere is meant to be an anti-intrusion system. How can we tell if it’s secure?’

He swipes into his system, bringing up his matt black screens.

‘What’s going on?’ Yasmine asks with a frown as Helga presses a finger to her mouth and shakes her head. Yasmine nods, realising the play at hand and that Helga isn’t sure if this room is safe to talk in. That’s cool. She gets that. Any Elforist would. Even Sun Sing stays quiet, but then she is from the Hutongs which isn’t that different to the Elfors.

Instead, they all watch Sam tapping on his virtual keyboard and a second later the blue sphere turns red to a chorus of quiet gasps.

‘Did you do that?’ Abdul asks.

‘Yep. What colour do you want?’ Sam asks. ‘Cos that thing isn’t secure at all.’

‘Damn,’ Helga whispers, remembering all the supposedly secret meetings she’s had in this very room.

‘They’re powered from the ship’s mainframe on what’s meant to be a protected system,’ Sam says. ‘But it reports back to the ship’s AI with a function report, and anything that sends a signal out and gets a signal back can be hacked . . . and it’s over one hundred and twenty years old.’

Helga sighs and sits back as Yasmine looks across and holds her hands up as though asking where then? as Helga shakes her head. Not having an answer to give.

‘Elfors?’ Penny asks. ‘Or your office? Sam debugged it.’

Helga nods and starts to rise then shoots a hand out with a finger up to still everyone, as something Sam said strikes a chord.

And it’s over one hundred and twenty years old.

That’s the problem with these ships. All the tech was built into the mainframes when the ships were constructed, which means everything is over one hundred and twenty years old, which also means anywhere could be bugged.

Except for one place.

A place that has been sealed for a very long time.

A place no person is allowed to go, which would mean there would be no way of placing bugs inside of it.

She presses her finger to her lips again and heads off through the red sphere while everyone else exchanges glances as they follow her into the executive corridor and to a plain door at the end, where an automated voice speaks out when she presses her band to the scanner.

‘Confirm identity of Vice-Captain Helga Sveinsson.’

‘Confirming Helga Sveinsson,’ Helga says as the scanner switches from red to green and the door swishes back. ‘It hasn’t been updated for a very long time,’ she says while stepping over the threshold from a plush world of creams and greys to an environment so very different.

Riveted walls of plain sheet metal, with solid pipes and wiring looms in protective tubes running over them. It’s colder too. Instantly and noticeably colder.

They stop at a set of solid metal bulkhead doors and wait for Helga to go through the security checks before the bulkhead doors slide down into the floor.

A flight of metal stairs beyond. Handholds on the walls and ceiling. They head up and out into a large room filled with desks and console units. All of them in fixed positions and bolted to the floor. The chairs are the same. Moulded and padded with safety harnesses ready to be clipped on.

It’s dark too, with only low-glow emergency lights here and there. No people. No screens or lights. No holo feeds either, and they spot old-style touchscreen computers ready to be used in case of a system failure.

‘Where are we?’ Yasmine asks.

‘The bridge,’ Sam whispers in a tone of awe as he looks up at the handholds on the ceiling and walls in a room built to operate in zero-G.

But it’s not the consoles or the desks drawing the gasps. Nor is it the captain’s chair in the centre, or the utilitarian construction of what is essentially a functioning deep-space vessel, because as impressive as those things are, they are no match for the windows on all four sides giving a view of the fleet and the solar system beyond.

They all stare out, captivated by the sight of fifty worldships flying in formation. Groups of them closer together showing their alliances. The four Euro ships. The four Scandinavian ships. The two North American vessels. The Arabic ships. The African ships and more, all seemingly static and still against the backdrop of inky space and the pinprick gleam of stars.

They take in their own Virtue fleet. The worldship Chastity the closest, large and long, like a skyscraper on its side. Windows here and there. Flashing lights and shuttles whizzing past it. The Abstinence and the Kindness the next nearest. The same size and design as the other two and the Humility.

They look across to the Ark and even after a lifetime of seeing it in pictures and holos, and with most of them having been on it and seen it for real, they cannot help but feel a sense of awe and wonder at the sheer size of that vessel.

It renders them all silent as they stand and shiver and look out the windows with minds still spinning and bellies still churning. Even Helga stays silent, not having been up here for decades.

It was with Pierre. She was a young councillor being groomed so she’d bend over and let him fuck her. He’d brought her up here to show her his power, but even then he’d said it was a cold and dark place and never used. And truth be told, she hadn’t even been sure the security system would let her gain entry.

‘What’s up with that one?’ Yasmine asks, pointing at another ship to the aft and starboard side of the Ark. Something about it looks wrong to her, but it’s like her brain isn’t quite registering what her eyes are seeing.

‘That’s the British ship,’ Sam says and spots her blank look. ‘It’s upside down,’ he adds. ‘That’s why it looks different.’

‘Well. Technically there is no up or down in space,’ Sven says.

‘So it’s not upside down then?’ Penny asks.

‘Not to them,’ Sven replies to a few confused expressions. ‘Gravity is relative to where the grav-drives are located,’ he explains while pointing to the floor. ‘If our ship rolled over now we’d still be pulled into the floor because of the grav-drives.’

‘Headfuck,’ Penny mutters, looking back to the ship. ‘But why is like that?’ she asks with another glance at Sven.

‘The story goes that when the fleet set off the British ship didn’t read their positioning data properly, but rather than correct it they said everyone else was wrong.’

‘What the fuck?’ Yasmine asks. ‘So they’re all walking on their ceilings?’

‘Jesus, Yassy,’ Sun says as everyone looks at her. ‘Sven just said their grav-drives are in the wrong place.’

‘I never said that at all,’ Sven says. ‘I said gravity is relative to—’

‘They’re upside down,’ Yasmine cuts in. ‘You can see they are.’

‘Their grav-drives are still under their floors,’ Sam says as Yasmine shrugs in that way that means she just lost interest.

‘Sam, is this area secure?’ Helga asks quietly from behind, prompting them to turn and see her sitting in the big central captain’s chair with half her face hidden in the shadows.

‘Secure?’ he asks.

‘Bugs, Sam. Is anyone listening to us?’

‘Ah right, give me a second,’ he says, swiping into his system as the others stare through the windows. ‘Um, so yes, it is secure.’

‘How secure?’ Helga asks. ‘We have to be sure, Sam.’

‘There’s nothing. I mean. There’s plenty of signals, but they’re all mainframe and not active. Which isn’t entirely true as the mainframe never shuts off, cos, you know, we’d all die from not having air as it controls everything, but the bridge mainframe is powered down and there’s no other signals up here at all.’

‘How about the heating, does that work? Penny asks, her teeth chattering. ‘Cos it’s bloody freezing up here.’

‘I can get some hot air flowing in if you want,’ Sam says to murmurs coming from the others.

‘So why isn’t anyone up here flying the ship?’ Yasmine asks with a look round. ‘Shouldn’t there be a driver or something? Oh, hang on. I know this. Sam told me it . . . wasn’t it something to do with a big crash or something, and then all the ships are flown by the Ark?’

Helga nods as she swipes into her band with a grunt at feeling the temperature lift a little. ‘You’re mostly right . . . Except nothing is ever that simple . . .’

She projects a 3-D holo into the air between them showing Earth beyond the fleet and the meteor flying towards it. A burning ball of flame with rocky projectiles beginning to hit the outer Earth atmosphere. An image instantly recognised by everyone. ‘They left it a bit late,’ Helga narrates quietly. ‘The fleet moving off I mean. And the truth is that the fleet isn’t one fleet at all, but rather lots of smaller fleets travelling together. There are two American Union ships,’ she adds while manipulating the view to show two ships flying close together. Both with the US Stars and Stripes flag clear on the sides. ‘The three Arab ships. The three Latino ships. The Scandy fleet has four ships and flies together. The Euro fleet also has four and does the same, but . . . We were the biggest.’

They all stare as the view focuses on seven ships of the same style flying in formation far off to the side and away from the others. ‘This was our Virtue fleet,’ Helga continues. ‘We had seven ships which made us the biggest, and we differed from the rest of the fleet as we weren’t financed by any government, but from private commerce and corporations. In fact, the worldship Diligence was meant to be the financial headquarters for the fleet as its primary funding source was Bitcoin, whereas the Liberality was paid for by Hollywood and Bollywood and was meant to be our main entertainment venue. It even had concert halls and a backlot for filming . . . And the Patience was our cultural centre …’ she trails off with a tone of sadness as she zooms out to show all the ships and the Earth and the meteor within the view.

‘They said it was due to an error in the navigation codes shared by all the worldships. Apparently, the whole fleet was constructed in a relatively confined area in orbit above Earth, and when the fleet had to move off, we all had to share our individual coordinates, or flight paths. Some, obviously, crossed each other, so the Ark had responsibility to adjust them. I won’t pretend I fully understand it, but it’s said the Diligence received the wrong information, or perhaps they read it wrong. But it moved off at speed, as every ship did, with a full burn to get moving and . . .’

She falls silent as they watch the mini-fleet start to converge and position; every ship moving in a slightly different direction at once, and all while the meteor skims the atmosphere of Earth.

Then disaster, and a gasp from all as they watch one of the Virtue ships fly straight towards another, and such is the view that even though they know what will happen, they still expect it to veer off or stop its progress.

Except it doesn’t.

‘The Diligence slammed into the Liberality,’ Helga says as it happens right in front of their eyes; two huge worldships colliding in absolute silence; an explosion of material and debris bursting into space. Both hulls rupturing and the pressurised systems within each blasting their air out into the void.

Every ship is compartmentalised, so in the event of a collision what’s meant to happen is that the bulkheads slam down to protect everywhere else, but such was the force of this collision, the two ships flew through each other. Breaching section after section and overwhelming the systems to the extent that they couldn’t do anything.

But that’s not the worst part.

‘What happened next is that the debris from those two ships took out the Patience,’ Helga adds as they watch on in horror at the sight. Chunks as big as buildings slam into the next closest ship, tearing open holes and killing everyone on board.

‘All three were destroyed and millions of people died,’ Helga says. ‘Not one survivor.’

She pauses to let them watch. Needing them all to see it. Needing them all to know what they are up against.

‘As a result of that crash several things happened. The Diligence was meant to control the fleet’s financial services. But of course, with that gone, the Ark took over and established the Fleet Finance system we use now, with Fleet Finance offices on board every ship. And, because of the accident, the fleet – or rather the Ark – decided it would be safer to develop and implement one navigational system, controlled by the Ark.’

‘The mainframe,’ Sam says.

‘The mainframe,’ Helga says. ‘And because of that we don’t need our own pilot,’ she adds with her hands up to present the empty bridge. ‘In fact, we don’t have anyone who could fly the ship, even if we wanted them to. Nobody’s trained.’

‘There’s meant to be a dedicated training program on the Ark that teaches shuttle pilots how to fly worldships,’ Sven says. ‘But I don’t know if they still run it, and it was only done by simulation.’

‘That’s correct,’ Helga says, making a mental note that Sven isn’t just a former pipe-bender from the maintenance crews.

‘It’s so easy to forget we’re in space,’ Penny says after another moment of silence. Her forehead pressed against a window, her breath misting the glass. ‘We get so sucked into our lives we forget about the walls. Sad really.’

‘Alright, Miss Melodrama,’ Yasmine says, earning a middle finger from Penny. ‘Anyway, the point of this is what?’ she asks, looking back to Helga.

‘Yassy,’ Abdul says, giving her a look.

‘There’s obviously a point,’ Yasmine says. ‘And the point is very fucking obvious.’

‘Is it?’ Penny asks with a confused expression.

‘Duh,’ Yasmine says, pointing to the window. ‘We’re vulnerable.’

‘To what?’ Penny asks as Yasmine tuts. ‘Don’t tut at me! We’re not all as smart as you,’ Penny snaps as Helga again clocks the speed at which Yasmine’s mind works.

‘Yes. There is a point,’ Helga says before she loses the impact. ‘And yes, we are vulnerable. Because right now we are sitting on a navigational code for a new planet which Yasmine stole, and we don’t have control over our own bridge. Which means we are not flying our own ship. Which means someone else is.’

The growing hardness to her voice renders everyone silent.

‘And trust me when I say there are more than a few credible theories that the worldship Diligence didn’t get anything wrong at all but received a rogue code on purpose because someone else didn’t like the Virtue fleet being the strongest, or the fact that we were going to control the fleet’s finances.’

‘That’s just a conspiracy theory,’ Jorgey says.

‘Jesus fuck!’ Yasmine snaps, suddenly realising Jorgey is with them. ‘Does she know about the code?’

‘She knows,’ Helga says.

‘The chief of fucking police knows about the code? Seriously? It’s turning into the worst secret ever.’

‘Yasmine,’ Helga says. ‘I know I’m not an Elforist, but I vouch for Jorgey. Okay?’

‘Of course you do! She’s your chief of police!’

‘Yassy. Shut up,’ Zhang says in a half groan. ‘No! Dude. Seriously. I vouch for Jorgey. Shut the hell up. No. Shut up.’

‘I vouch,’ Colin adds, lifting a hand.

‘I just mean it’s too big to keep telling people,’ Yasmine adds quietly.

‘Which is why it will stay between us,’ Helga replies as Yasmine looks around with a quick head count.

‘Fourteen people are gonna keep it secret, yeah?’ she asks bluntly.

‘Jesus, Yassy. She’s the captain,’ Penny whispers.

‘Sorry. Fourteen people are gonna keep it a secret, Captain,’ Yasmine says.

‘They will,’ Helga says. ‘We do, however, have one loose end to deal with.’

‘Kristi Carter?’ Yasmine asks as Helga gives her a sharp look.

‘How the hell do you do that, Yassy?’ Penny asks.

‘It’s obvious,’ Yasmine says. ‘She knows something happened before the whole Elfor thing kicked off. And now Zhang is hooked up with her. And if she finds out then we’re all fucked. You told her anything?’ she asks Zhang.

‘You really need to ask me that?’ Zhang says.

‘Yes. I do. You tell her and then we’re all fucked.’

‘Okay. I won’t tell her then,’ he fires back, sliding his feet onto the desk.

‘Finished?’ Helga asks with a look at them both. ‘As for Kristi Carter, we shall go with the truth. There was a theft of a crypto-bond at the same time as everything else going on, which was carried out by an undercover asset of mine to stress-test the security of the Fleet Finance offices at the same time that Dmitri was blackmailing the manager. The two events were never connected. Do I need to explain that again? Yasmine?’

‘I heard you.’

‘Do not be flippant with me, Yasmine!’ Helga snaps in a way that would normally have Yasmine throwing punches, but that thing in Helga’s tone and eyes and manner brings forth a quiet in all of them, and even Zhang slides his feet off the desk to sit up straight. ‘You need to listen! They won’t just kill us for this code. They will smash our ships together and kill everyone . . . and before you start ranting again, remember who stole the code in the first place because all of this . . . All of this shit has been to clear up your fucking mess! I had to set the Elfors free to give us protection, and do not look at me like that. Yes, I wanted to give them freedom for a very long time, but do you realise how close they came to getting sealed in? We almost lost, and if Drago hadn’t stood aside then it would have happened. That one thing saved you all. And even that was down to Colin who isn’t even a fucking Elforist and neither am I so shut up!’

Yasmine stays silent, feeling strangely chastised.

‘What’re your orders?’ Colin asks Helga, to break the silence.

‘Abdul and I received a very short call telling us they know, but that’s it,’ Helga adds.

‘They? Who are they?’ Yasmine asks.

‘We don’t know!’ Abdul says.

‘That’s ratshit,’ Yasmine says, detecting the lie hanging between Helga and Abdul.

‘Will you shut up!’ Jorgey says with a glare at Yasmine.

‘Yassy’s annoying as fuck, but she’s also never wrong,’ Penny says, looking from Jorgey to Abdul.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Helga counters, giving Yasmine a look. ‘What are you going to do? Scrunch them up? Mulch them? Or perhaps you plan to give them a good old-fashioned Elfor whupping.’

‘Er, yeah,’ Yasmine says as though it’s obvious. ‘We’re Elforists. You don’t roll Elforists.’

‘Oh my god will you please be quiet!’ Jorgey orders. ‘I’m the chief of police and the captain doesn’t even tell me everything. That’s how this works.’

‘Oh, got it,’ Yasmine says. ‘That’s how this works, is it? Awesome. Right. So we just trust you then? Like the people on those three worldships did when their captains said hey it’s cool, why would anyone make us crash?’

‘Yassy! I swear to god I will put something in your mouth if you don’t hush, sugar,’ Clara says, lifting a hand as Yasmine goes to speak. ‘I said uh-uh. UH-UH!’

‘Thank god for that,’ Zhang says with a shake of his head at Yasmine before he looks over to Helga. ‘Yeah, so who exactly is it again?’

‘Zhangy! I said uh-uh,’ Clara orders. ‘The captain don’t want to tell us and we got to trust that.’

‘I don’t trust anyone,’ Yasmine says.

‘You trust Abdul don’t you?’ Clara demands.

‘No!’ she scoffs.

‘Can we please just focus?’ Janey snaps.

‘I think Zhang and Yasmine have the right to ask,’ Sven says, at the same time as Jorgey tries telling them to shut up while Clara says uh-uh and waves her hand at them, which all, in turn, prompts Abdul to sigh and lean closer to Helga to take the shoe she slips from her foot.

‘Stop throwing shoes at me!’ Yasmine says when it hits her chest.

‘I threw it,’ Abdul says, pointing at Yasmine. ‘And we’re not going to tell you who we think they might be. End of. Period. Stop asking.’

‘But—’

‘Yassy!’ Abdul snaps. ‘You just had a go at Zhang to stop him whispering secrets to Kristi, but you want us to tell you and everyone else everything we know?’

Another silence falls while everyone tries to absorb the things being said.

‘It is a new planet,’ Helga says as she slowly leans forward, her face emerging from the shadows. ‘If one word gets out from the people here in this room then we will all die. You need to know that, and you need to know that someone else out there might try and approach you, they might offer you wealth and power, but trust me, they will kill you. They were using Pierre to whip this ship into a frenzy which shows they will do anything they can. Which means we must be on our guard. We’re all in this. There’s just us. Anyway. That’s enough for now. We’ve still got a ship in chaos.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Jorgey says, looking up from her band, ‘I’ve got multiple reports coming in of fights, riots and lootings, and apparently there’s now a gang of Elforists trying to break through a guard station on Level 10. Not to mention the impounded shuttle I need to deal with. Captain, I think we might have to call Drago back in. We’re going to need some help.’

Helga shakes her head as Abdul speaks out. ‘Using Fed support so quickly after declaring victory weakens our position and sends the wrong message.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Helga adds. ‘But we’re on our own. We chose this course of action, and now we have to deal with it.’

‘With who?!’ Jorgey demands. ‘We’ve got riots kicking off and no cops or med teams to deal with any of it.’

‘Jorgey,’ Colin says, gaining her attention. ‘My team were all tactical specialists on the Ark. They can get some good people up from Neon City.’

‘We can do that, sugar,’ Clara says as Boris and Pasha nod.

‘And as for impounding the shuttle,’ Colin says. ‘We used to do that a lot on the Ark. You just need to complete the online form.’

Jorgey looks from Colin to Helga.

‘Colin, you were a commander on the Ark, is that correct?’ Helga asks.

‘Colin Sanders was the best damn commander the Ark ever had,’ Clara says.

‘He was,’ Jorgey admits, giving Colin a look. Remembering how they worked together. Remembering the guy that died in their custody. A freak that liked little kids. He’d killed two already and a third had been kidnapped. Colin tracked him. Jorgey and Drago ran him down. They asked him where the kid was. He wouldn’t tell them. He thought he was untouchable. He was connected. He was entitled.

They hurt him until he blurted it out, but too many drugs and too much booze had weakened his heart and he died in their custody.

They found the kid, but one of them had to take the fall.

Colin stepped up. He was the one with his hands on the perp’s neck when he had the heart attack, so in his mind it was his fault. Jorgey and Drago were holding the perp down at the time, but Colin protected them. He took the blame and his career ended.

‘I see,’ Helga says quietly as she swipes into her system. ‘Colin, you’re my new head of investigations on a temporary contract. Welcome back, Commander Sanders. Zhang, meet your new supervisor.’

‘What the fuck!’ Colin and Zhang both say as Colin swipes his band to see a holographic badge glowing up with words underneath. Words he never thought he would see again.

Commander Colin Sanders

Head of Criminal Investigations.

WS Humility.

‘We need to go!’ Jorgey says urgently on reading a message with a red flashing border. ‘There’s been a murder in the retail zone. An Elforist has been stabbed.’

‘I’ll take it with Zhang,’ Colin says as they rush to their feet. ‘Clara, get some guys up from Neon and deputise them.’

‘On it,’ Clara says as Helga calls out.

‘Abdul and Jorgey will take the lead on matters of public safety and get this ship under control. Colin, you and Zhang will deal with serious crime and matters of ship security and report to me. Okay people! Let’s get back to it because we’re all this ship has and none of us are sleeping until we get things under control . . .’

3

After ending the video call with the Six, Hector Baptiste slips into the shadows of another doorway while stalking his quarry through the lanes of the retail zone. Debris everywhere from the riots and constant fights breaking out, and the place now seems dark and sad and wretched without the famous adverts shining overhead.

A group of drunk Elforists go by, loudly cheering their new-found freedom. Eight or nine of them at least, and Hector watches how they stay close to each other because there’s safety in numbers.

‘Larry, you dirty puta!’ one of them shouts. A female voice. Dark hair. Pretty but hard-looking in the way Elforists are. Nineteen. Maybe twenty, but the jeering is good-natured; the older man smiles back. ‘He’s jerking off to the lingerie stores, Donna,’ a lad says to more laughs and calls.

‘You bugger off, Krakin,’ the older man says, waving them away as the group laughs and a few seconds later it’s just Hector left watching his quarry. A man called Larry who, from what he just learned, is considered to be a pervert in the Elfors. Albeit one who is apparently tolerated, and perhaps even humoured from the way that young gang just reacted to him.

Hector slips out and keeps a short distance between him and Larry. A shout further on. Several deep voices. One of them stands out.

‘This is our ship!’

A young male voice. Early twenties. Deep. Cultured. Educated. Drunk. Other voices of the same type. All of them coming closer.

Hector darts forward towards Larry. ‘Excuse me?’ he enquires politely, prompting Larry to turn then mutter in alarm as Hector grabs the front of his shirt.

‘What you doin’?’ Larry asks, trying to push Hector away. ‘Get orf!’

Hector doesn’t reply, but shakes Larry to confuse and annoy him.

‘Ere, I said get orf you fucker!’ Larry says, pushing harder as Hector listens to the voices coming closer, and with a few seconds to go Hector slaps Larry’s cheek. ‘What the buggering hell was that for?’ Larry shouts and shoves harder as the anger flashes in his eyes. An older man. Out of shape and not one for brawling, but he’s still an Elfor, and Elfors don’t grow to be older men without some wits about them and the ability to fight back when cornered.

Larry does that now and strikes out to punch Hector just as the group of young Humility lads come around the corner.

Hector falls down but keeps his grip on Larry and pulls him down with him. ‘I don’t have anything else!’ Hector cries. ‘Please! I gave you everything.’

Larry shouts in anger. His mind’s not fast enough to grasp what’s happening, and so what the young drunk men see when they come into view is an Elforist beating a mild-mannered Humility resident to the floor.

‘OI!’ the loudest of the young men shouts. Muscled arms and chiselled features. Young and dashing and whipped into a frenzy by Pierre’s hate speeches. Full of righteous fury and righteous wrath and he runs fast to slam a foot into Larry’s side and a dull hard crack of his ribs is heard by all.

Larry gasps and falls, a sharp pain searing his side. His mouth opening and closing silently as he tries to draw air and tell them this weird guy just grabbed him for no reason.

But he doesn’t get those words out because that angry young man stamps down, driving the sole of his shoe into the side of Larry’s head, slamming his skull into the floor with a jarring crunch.

His friends join in, stamping and kicking at Larry’s prostrate form as he whimpers and feebly tries to roll away, but the end was ordained the second it began and Larry’s cries soon cut off as he succumbs to the bones in his body splintering into his lungs and spleen.

Hector, meanwhile, does roll away and lithely springs up behind the attacking group to run fast along the lane, simultaneously reaching up to mess his hair and pull his clothes about.

Laughter ahead. Harsh and young. The Elforist gang still moving through the lanes.

‘Donna!’ Hector shouts, adding an edge to his voice. Making it a little bit rough. A little bit uneducated. ‘Krakin!’

‘Who’s that?’ Donna asks, stopping to look back as her crew do the same.

‘It’s me, ain’t it?’ Hector yells, stopping a distance off while flapping his arms around in panic. ‘They got Larry! They’re killing him! He didn’t do nuffin! He was just walkin’ and they got him!’

‘What the fuck?’ Donna shouts, already striding through her crew. ‘Who has?’

‘Humility lads from up top!’ Hector yells, turning back as though to lead the way. ‘They’re killing him!’

He sets off running. Donna does the same. Krakin too and their crew to boot. All running after a man they figure they know because he speaks like they do, and in the chaos of that unfolding moment they don’t stop to question exactly who he is, because by then they can hear the shouts and a second later they run into view to see Larry on the ground being stamped on by a group of well-groomed young men.

‘OI, YOU FUCKIN’ PUTAS!’ Donna yells, drawing a blade from her waistband as she charges at them with her crew, all yelling and drawing pipes and sticks. The young men from Level 10 snap their heads up and yell back as they start to rally for a fight, but then they see the wicked-looking blades held by wicked-looking young men and women and, as one, they set off running.

Donna’s crew gives chase and sprints past the battered Larry while Hector stays put in a doorway, waiting for the silence to return. Only then does he slip out and look down at Larry’s dead body, and no expression shows on Hector’s face. None at all.

Not even when he swipes his band and activates an anonymous call.

‘You have called the Humility police emergency line. This is an AI system. State your location and incident. Officers will be dispatched to you.’

‘Oh god! He’s dead. A man. I just found him,’ Hector blurts with a rush of air and words. ‘He’s outside the FleetZ-KidZ store just by the lingerie place . . . please send help!’

He cuts off and an instant later that deadpan expression steals back across his features, and he slips across the lane to the deepest darkest recessed doorway where he waits, because Hector Baptiste is a very patient man.

Five minutes later and his patience is rewarded as Colin Sanders and Zhang Woo run into the scene, Colin viewing the immediate area as he makes his way towards the body.

Hector half-expects him to lean down and press his fingers to the neck to search for signs of life, but then Colin Sanders is, or rather was, a very experienced detective and he doesn’t do that. Instead, he activates his police-issue body-scanner.

‘Scanning . . .’ the automated voice of the scanning device says. ‘Adult male . . . Brain Activity. Zero. Heart rate. Zero. Possibility of successful resuscitation. Zero.’

‘Scan for injuries,’ Zhang says, earning a look from Colin. ‘What? You need to scan him for injuries.’

‘I’ve dealt with more murders than you’ve had hot synth rolls,’ Colin says as he adjusts his scanner to bathe the deceased.

‘Fractured skull. Rear. Fractured skull. Left side. Broken humerus. Right side. Fractured elbow. Left side. Broken ribs. Four. Broken radius. Left side . . .’

Zhang peers in closer with a scowl at the pulped face.

‘John Doe,’ Colin says at the lack of a wristband on the victim’s wrist that would tell them who he was. ‘Elforist though,’ he adds, noting the unique clothing style of the Elforists. ‘They stamped him to death. What a way to go. Okay, we need to seal the area and call forensics in.’

‘What forensics?’ Zhang asks when Colin looks at him. ‘We had a guy but he quit. Phil. You know Phil?’

‘I know Phil. Call him,’ Colin orders.

Zhang makes the call. ‘Phil, we’ve got a murder.’

‘Just one?’ Phil asks with a snort of bitter humour. ‘Yeah, I’m out buddy. But hey, say hi to Jorgey for me.’

‘Phil. Come on,’ Zhang says, rubbing his nose. ‘It’s a proper murder.’

‘So? Do it yourself. Get some samples. Suck the victim’s big toe. Whatever. I don’t care. I’m not coming back, Zhang. Not for anything. And you tell Jorgey, you tell her they shoulda never opened the Elfors and let them rats up. Whole damn ship’ll go to hell,’ Phil says as Colin leans into the screen, making Phil sit upright. ‘Commander?’

‘You sound like a bitter old man, Phil,’ Colin says with a hard glare.

‘Times been hard since I left the Ark. My husband left me.’

‘I don’t want your life story, Phil. I need a good forensics guy. I’m pinging you the location. Get here.’

Ten minutes later Phil is on scene rubbing the back of his neck.

‘It’s a hell of a mess, Commander. There’s trash everywhere, and even if I find a DNA sample near the body it won’t mean jackshit cos the owner of the sample’s got an instant defence. It wasn’t me. I was just in the area getting away from the riots. My shoe fell off. I was bleeding. Some fuck pulled my hair out. Or the body coulda rolled through half this mess and picked a dozen samples up that had nothin’ to do with the perps. And the guy’s an Elforist. I mean look at his clothes.’

Colin doesn’t look at the victim’s clothes. He looks at Phil.

‘Hey. I’m not anti-Elfor. I’m just sayin’ Elforists like brawling,’ Phil says as Colin holds that gaze on him. ‘But sure. I’ll scan the victim and see what we get. That what you want?’

‘Yes. Just do the body. There’s no point doing the scene. There are no obvious witnesses still in the area and we can’t access any of the store’s CCTV until the retail zone re-opens and we free up some officers. Detective?’ Colin adds.

‘Huh?’ Zhang asks after realising Colin is looking at him. ‘What?’

‘Do you agree?’

‘With what?’ Zhang asks as Colin pauses to draw air. ‘Oh, you’re doing the thing? The cop thing? What’s it called again?’

‘Initial investigation plan,’ Colin says with forced patience.

‘Yeah. That. Er, sure,’ Zhang says as Phil starts lowering to his knees, but topples forward to land on the body with his hand pushing into the victim’s face.

‘Jesus, Phil. Get your hand off the body!’ Colin says as he reads another message coming in with a red flashing border. ‘There’s been another murder. Man called Harry. Stairwell. Level 36.’

‘It’s gonna get worse,’ Phil calls as Colin and Zhang set off. ‘And where’re we storing the bodies?’

‘Find somewhere cold!’ Colin yells as he and Zhang sprint down the walkway. Phil the forensic man stares glumly at the John Doe while Hector Baptiste slips away into the dark shadows of the empty lanes in the retail zone, figuring he just set off a tit-for-tat murder spree.

Which will no doubt keep Helga Sveinsson and Abdul Shariff very busy indeed.

4

Yasmine Emile Dufont wakes in the sleeping tube of Cabin 58, Row G, Level 35 on board the worldship Humility and slowly stretches.

She thinks about dozing off again, but then frowns. ‘What’s the time?’

Good morning, Yasmine. The time is 7.18 a.m. Here is a summary of the main headlines.

Yasmine yawns and idly reads the scrolling reports.

CRISIS ON BOARD THE HUMILITY!

THE STAIRWELL RAPISTS STRIKE AGAIN!

ANOTHER MURDER IN THE ELFORS!

FLEET LEADERS INSIST HELGA MUST CALL FOR FED HELP!

LINDA LICK-UP SET TO STAR IN TRIPLE-X PARODY: THE ICE QUEEN COMETH!

Yasmine waves it away while figuring that the accuracy of reporting in relation to the actuality of what happened is seriously shit and reporters literally make things up.

She eventually dismisses the notion of another snooze due to the nagging urge radiating from her bladder and so, with another stretch and groan, she rolls from the tube to stand sleepily in the cabin and waves her hand for the toilet to pop out, then sits down with a tut at seeing Sam’s shirt dumped on the couch.

Yasmine never thought she’d be a neat freak. But then she never thought she’d have her own cabin or understand the notion of taking pride in your own space. Now she does. Even if it has only been a few days.

Well. No. She was using this cabin for a while before they got back from the Beijing, except she was still in that period of undefined stasis where it was Sam’s cabin, and she was only crashing. But it’s different now. The feeling of it is different. Mind you, everything is different now.

She stares into nothing in that sleepy way people do and eventually, when the toilet commences its self-cleaning cycle, she stands up and waits while it rotates away and the shower panels drop out. She kicks out her underwear and the water starts pouring down.

And what’s even better is that there’s no limit. Which is the benefit of living with a highly skilled hacker, even if he is a messy sod who can’t tolerate anything more than tepid water.

The other main benefit of dating a hacker is that he got rid of all the footage of Yasmine running into Confucius Square and that awful video of Dmitri attacking her on the big screens.

Yasmine doesn’t know how Sam did it. He did explain that he created a program that transferred Yasmine’s exact physical appearance into code and then created another program to seek and destroy any footage of her.

Yasmine said thousands of people would have been recording the event on their bands, but Sam said it didn’t matter because people don’t store data on their bands. It’s all held in the cloud servers and his algorithm could penetrate even the most encrypted systems.

Would you like some music while you shower, Yasmine?

‘Wow, that’s very cool,’ she says with a smile at the upgrade Sam installed into his cabin interface AI. ‘Er, yes. I would like some music please.’

I will shuffle your most played tracks. Can I make you a coffee?

Yasmine pauses mid-scrub and leans out to see the coffee machine blinking to life with a beaker sliding down the circular storage rack to slot underneath the spout, and a second later fresh coffee starts pouring out.

‘Look at me now,’ she murmurs. ‘The Elfor girl done good.’

What would you like me to look at, Yasmine? Would you like a medical scan?

‘What? No! I meant. Whatever. Never mind.’

I can perform a range of scans, Yasmine. Both for physical and mental health.

‘I don’t want a scan!’ Yasmine calls, going back to scrubbing as the music begins to play. But the words sink in. Words do that sometimes. They grow roots and stay in your head. She swallows and thinks maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get a mental health scan because there is definitely an issue, and she really doesn’t know how to deal with it.

It happened when she and Sam finally got back to the cabin after they’d returned from the Beijing and then helped Helga and Abdul with a million different emergencies going off all over the place.

It was a blur really. They were all exhausted and hurt from the shuttle thing that happened, but they eventually returned to Sam’s cabin, showered and crashed out because they weren’t fit for anything else.

But then the morning came, and they were alone in a sleeping tube. Her and Sam. They were snuggled up and it was nice. She was sore as hell from all the beatings she’d taken on the Beijing, but the vibe was good, and Sam, bless him, he didn’t do a thing. He didn’t make a move. He just spooned her from behind. She was nervous, but she took his hand and moved it up onto her breast and felt him stiffen. He started kissing her neck, and when the passion built, she tugged her underwear off and rolled onto her back.

Which is when she froze.

She didn’t mean to freeze. It just happened. It was like a flashback or something, from the time Dmitri pinned her down on her back.

Maybe it was all of that and a million other things. But she froze and felt a ball of panic growing inside.

Sam stopped as soon as he realised that she wasn’t responding. He asked her what was wrong. She said she was fine and told him to keep going and that she was enjoying it, but it was written all over her face.

Sam said it was okay. He was so kind she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t do that either, nor could she voice her thoughts.

Then the call came in that there was another emergency, but in truth? They were both thankful for the distraction.

That was only a couple of days ago, and the emergencies haven’t stopped since. But then what did Helga expect would happen after giving freedom to thousands of people who have spent their entire lives locked in the lower four levels of the ship?

They all poured up top.

Most people accepted the change and got on with it and soon found themselves rejoicing in the exciting new energy the Elforists brought to the ship, but a lot didn’t and refused to accept the change. Bored and disenfranchised young men found themselves radicalised by Pierre’s hate speeches, and they were joined by more young men who found themselves feeling insecure and threatened by the charming ways of the lean and fit Elforist lads swarming up to smile and wink at the pretty Humility girls.

Fist fights broke out. Brawls and bar fights swiftly escalated into running battles. People on both sides got hurt, and that, in turn, fuelled the need for revenge – which was only made worse by the Humility police refusing to work, leaving Jorgey reliant on Neon City bodyguards and former stair guards, and through it all, no matter how bad it got, no matter how much carnage ensued, Captain Helga Sveinsson refused to call for Fed assistance.

‘This is our ship. We must see it through ourselves.’

So yes. It has been a very strange few days indeed, and even more so for Yasmine who, amongst other things, suddenly found herself the bridge between two worlds because nearly everyone in the Elfors knows Yasmine, and as more of them reached out to her, so word spread and more did the same. Calling her at all times of the day and night to ask what it all means.

And then, at night, when she and Sam finally got home to snuggle into the tube, that feeling of expectancy stole back in. Creating a pressure and a gnawing sense of panic inside Yasmine. Sam said it was fine and it will happen when it happens.

But to Yasmine it’s become a serious problem and one she just doesn’t know how to deal with. She can’t cry. She can’t fuck, and those words keep bouncing around in her skull. Telling her how useless she is. Telling her that Sam will leave her and find someone else.

He’s Pretty Boy and adored by everyone in the fleet, and she can’t even roll onto her back and kiss him.

Are you okay, Yasmine? You have been washing the same arm for over five minutes.

‘I’m fine,’ she says, blinking back to focus as she calls for the shower to cut off.

Why is she thinking so negatively? Life is good now. She’s got a cabin and nobody is trying to kill her. Dmitri is dead. Karen Big Feet is probably dead too. Mad Eyes Ken was killed by Abdul, and Guphy Gupherson had the crap beaten out of him, and nobody has heard or seen sign of Chatty Simon, and as for the code she took – Helga made it clear she was dealing with it, and they should worry about everything else going on.

She was right too because there is more than enough to worry about. Which again is weird, because Yasmine had thought she only ever wanted to get as far away from the Elfors as possible, when in fact it wasn’t the Elfors she was running from. It was Dmitri, and his death changed her mindset, so that somewhere amid the chaos, Yasmine found herself caring for her ship and her people.

She doesn’t know why, or when that even happened.

It just did.

It’s confusing and she can’t pick the bones out of it all or make sense of her emotions, or what it means, or if it means anything at all.

* * *

A few minutes later and she steps out of the cabin with a determination to see the positives in life and find a way to get over her issues.

It’s busy and she passes lots of people on the way. Some going up. Some going down. Which is still strange to see. People don’t normally go down the stairwells in the morning. They go up to work from the Elfors. But the Elfors are free now and so people can go up and down as much as they want.

Mind you, Elforists have suddenly become the it thing and Yasmine pauses outside a store and smiles when she remembers this is the one she got caught shoplifting in when she first met Sam, and she smiles again at seeing the new displays being set up inside trying to mimic the grungy, patchwork style of the Elfors.

‘What time do you call this?’ Sven demands as she walks into the eatery. The epicentre of the Elfor emancipation and where Yasmine still works. ‘It’s packed out there!’

‘It’s always bloody packed you moany old shit. And I’m early. I don’t start for another twenty minutes.’ She pauses to look around before lowering her voice. ‘How’s Janey?’

‘Still shook up,’ he replies with a grimace. ‘Keeps having nightmares about the shuttle, then she feels bad cos she thinks no one else is struggling which makes her feel weak and pathetic.’

‘Everyone’s struggling,’ Yasmine says.

‘I said that to her. I said people deal with it differently, but then most of us are from the Elfors and used to gravity failing and getting thrown around, and bodies, and broken bones, and blood . . .’

‘I get it,’ Yasmine says, swiping a bowl of porridge. ‘Ask Yolo for some Calm-A-Mind. That’ll help.’

‘What will?’ Sun asks, walking in.

‘Calm-A-Mind for Janey,’ Yasmine says.

‘She still struggling with the shuttle thing?’ Sun asks. ‘I’ll get some from Mom and drop them up.’

‘Thanks,’ Sven says, sliding a bowl of porridge towards her.

‘How are you?’ Sun asks with a glance at Yasmine as they head out into the packed lane and the early morning diners grabbing a bite before work, or the night-workers unwinding before bed.

‘Fine,’ Yasmine says in a way that earns a look from Sun. ‘I said I’m fine.’

‘You done it yet?’

‘Sun!’

‘What? I’m just asking. Jesus. Just do it already and get it over with.’

Yasmine wishes she could just do it and get it over with. Yasmine wishes more than anything she could do that.

Except she can’t.

She can’t have sex, and she can’t cry.

They reach the end table to see Penny and Janey and a few others already eating, and Zhang on another smaller table typing reports. His eyelids drooping. Sleep calling. He jerks awake and takes another gulp of coffee and goes back to the report before Colin has another go at him, and one thing is for sure, Yasmine and Janey aren’t the only ones struggling since they got back.

* * *

In fact it hasn’t eased up for Zhang since that first night because just as they were dealing with the murder of the first John Doe another call came in, for a murder on the Level 36 stairwell.

The body was an adult male. Mid to late twenties, and from the style of clothes and healthy gym-toned body they quickly deduced he wasn’t an Elforist.

‘Adult male. Deceased. Brain activity. Zero. Heart rate. Zero. Possibility of successful resuscitation. Zero.’ Zhang ran the body scanner, but it was obvious the guy was dead.

‘Injuries?’ Colin asked as Zhang looked down at the big knife poking out of the victim’s neck, then back up to Colin.

‘Old age maybe?’

Colin gave him a look. Zhang ran the scan.

‘Puncture wound to right side carotid artery.’

Colin grunted as Zhang pinged the victim’s wristband to get his ID.

‘Harry Wetlock. Twenty-six years old. Lives here on Level 36, Row J,’ Zhang said. He paused to lean down and visually examine the victim’s nose. ‘Traces of powders, so I’m guessing from his disco clothes he figured he’d hide from the riots and get laid and high in Neon, then got robbed walking home.’

‘This wasn’t a robbery,’ Colin said, pointing at the wristband still on the guy’s arm, then to a small vial of powders poking out of one of his pockets. ‘There’s no fight or scuffle. No signs of a brawl. No bruising or cuts to his knuckles, no defensive slash or stab wounds. His wristband and drugs haven’t been taken and the fatal injury is from a right-handed stab wound into the neck from someone behind him. I doubt this kid even knew it was happening until he dropped.’

Zhang nodded, feeling irritated that Colin had read the scene faster and better than he had. ‘Yeah, agreed,’ he said as the sound of screaming snapped their heads over to a middle-aged woman running from Row J, her voice cracking with fear and panic.

‘Please . . . Please . . . HARRY!’ Other people behind her. All of them running and shouting.

‘That’ll be the family then,’ Zhang said, rushing to intercept them as more people came out of their cabins to scream and shout at the sight of the body.

It was tense and awful and brutal with everyone screaming and venting raw emotions, but thankfully, by late morning on that second day, the rioters had disappeared, and a strange uneasy silence settled over the ship.

‘The calm before the storm,’ Abdul said as they gathered once more in the lane alongside the café. Clara off to one side drinking a beaker of water. Boris on his haunches with his head down. Pasha slumped in a chair. Independent bodyguards from Neon City alongside them, deputised into service and now as drained as everyone else. Faiza eating porridge and wincing from the AI-controlled Dr Sew-It-Up machine set up on the table stitching a gash on her scalp. Helga amongst them like a queen amid her generals. Still in her black top with one sleeve ripped off.

‘We’ll rest,’ she ordered. ‘Go home. Sleep. Meet back here in six hours . . . I should imagine tonight will be just as bad.’

Zhang had trudged home through the eerily quiet lanes of the retail zone to find Kristi dozing in his sleeping tube. He told her to sleep. He said he’d take the couch. He showered. She woke up.

He didn’t take the couch.

* * *

Zhang only slept for three hours during that rest period, so when he awoke he should have been too exhausted to move, and he was.

But the events he’d been through have changed his perspective. He doesn’t know what caused that change, but only that he felt a sudden sense of loyalty to the cause.

It was clear the Level 1 staff had abandoned Helga, and none of the other councillors were anywhere to be seen. The same with the police and the medical staff and just about everyone else who held a position of authority. They’d all disappeared and all that was left was a handful of broken people doing what they could.

That perspective of being so few dealing with so much appealed to Zhang’s character and drew him into the inner circle, and so, despite feeling like shit, he woke up with a new-found sense of purpose.

He showered quickly and drank a coffee from the new machine Kristi had bought as the police comms blared from his system.

‘All units! Report of a large fight on the main stairwell, Level 28. Weapons seen.’

Two icons in the air. One red. One green. He swiped the green to show he was responding and grabbed his Taser pistol as he ran for the door and along to the stairwell with his legs aching in protest. He reached Level 28 already hearing violence ahead of him.

‘POLICE!’ he yelled, swiping to bring up a red and blue strobing light designed to disperse violent crowds as he rounded the last corner to a guy falling backward, taking him off his feet, but Zhang rolled free and came up on his knees to see a knife in the guy’s stomach.

‘No!’ Zhang yelled as the man grabbed the handle and wrenched it free with a spurt of blood, while Clara and more of the deputised bodyguards forced the attackers away.

Zhang did what he could, applying pressure to the wound until the man started gasping silently like a goldfish out of water. His eyes stared at Zhang with disbelief and fear until his heart stopped and his breathing ended, and his life force left his body.

Another fight. Another death. Another murder.

‘What happened?’ Colin demanded as he rounded the flight of stairs and came to a stop.

‘Fell into me,’ Zhang said quietly. ‘Still had the knife in him.’

‘Why was it pulled out?’ Colin asked as Zhang looked up at him. ‘First Aid 101. Leave the knife in the body. It acts like a plug.’

Zhang was up with a flash of temper, but Clara was faster, gripping the back of his shirt as Zhang swung at Colin. ‘I told him to leave it in!’

‘Uh-uh, sugar. Y’all need to settle it down now,’ Clara said with a muscled arm around his neck.

‘Get the fuck off me!’ Zhang gasped as Faiza looked on in alarm and Colin just gave him the same look he’d given Phil. A look devoid of expression, but that only made it so much worse. ‘I told him to leave it in!’ Zhang said.

‘You good, Zhangy?’ Clara asked in his ear.

‘I’m good,’ he said and fell forward as she let go.

‘I wasn’t judging you, Detective,’ Colin said. ‘I was asking a question.’

‘Whatever,’ Zhang said, tugging his clothes straight.

‘Whatever, Commander,’ Colin said as Zhang shot him a look. ‘Do you have a problem with authority?’ Colin asked. His tone calm but the air was charged and hard with Zhang covered in blood and still exhausted. He wanted to tell Colin his perspective had changed, and that he felt loyalty and wanted to do his job, but he was tired and angry and jittery and full of adrenaline and his mouth was dry and his neck hurt from being held by Clara, so he didn’t say anything. Which only made him seem sullen and moody.

‘State of you,’ Colin said, shaking his head.

‘I’m covered in blood!’

‘Not that. That!’ Colin said, pulling at Zhang’s shirt tails hanging out. ‘And that,’ he said, pointing to the stubble on Zhang’s jaw.

Zhang’s mind reeled as he tried to process the concept of being told off for his appearance when he’d only had six hours off – even if he had spent half of it having sex with Kristi.

He figured he’d tell Colin to go fuck himself cos they were all dishevelled and messy, but Colin wasn’t dishevelled at all – in actual fact Colin was shaved and wearing a clean shirt and his hair was brushed. Clara was the same. Washed and scrubbed and wearing clean clothes. So were Boris and Pasha and the rest of the newly deputised guards. Even Faiza had clean hair and a fresh uniform on.

‘We are the police, Zhang,’ Colin said. ‘Having high standards helps project our authority. Go home. Get shaved and cleaned up. I’ll sort this out. Café. One hour.’

‘Zhangy, go on now honey, you get yourself sorted,’ Clara said softly, and so he stayed silent and started to head off, feeling humiliated.

He presented himself an hour later at the café, shaved and with a tucked-in black shirt, his pistol holstered securely on his belt. A conference was underway at the back with Helga and her inner circle.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ Jorgey asked as he approached, giving him an angry glare as that humiliated feeling came back again.

‘I had to go home and—’

‘Never mind. Just sit down,’ she ordered before nodding an apology at Colin who had paused to wait for Zhang then kept going as he sat down.

‘And the latest victim was Johnson Patel. Nineteen-year-old from Level 18.’

‘So far then that’s three murders. Correct?’ Helga asked as Yasmine walked past and hit the button for the walk-in freezer door to swish back.

‘Holy shit,’ she said at the sight of the bodies on the floor inside.

‘And still no morgue,’ Colin added.

‘I see,’ Helga said.

‘Do we know who the John Doe is yet?’ Jorgey asked as Colin shook his head.

‘Hey! That’s Larry the Lurker,’ Yasmine called from the freezer with her arms full of porridge mix as she stared down at the frozen body of the John Doe.

‘Our reports suggest he’s known as Larry the Lurker,’ Colin said smoothly, earning a few dry chuckles.

‘No, it is,’ Yasmine said. ‘Larry er . . . Oh god. Pen? Larry the Lurker. What’s his last name.’

‘I’ve no idea,’ Penny said.

‘Smelts . . .’ Abdul started to say while thinking hard.

‘Smeltskin!’ Yasmine said, clicking her fingers at Abdul as he did the same. ‘Larry Smeltskin. He’s got a little shack on 40 near the leaking pipe where people wash. He’s a right perv. Or he was, seeing as he’s now a bit frozen.’

‘Family?’ Colin asked.

‘What Larry? God no. He had a brother, but he died years ago. Got in a fight with Ivan’s dad. Ivan, you remember that?’

Everyone looked at Ivan licking an empty bowl of porridge.

‘Don’t lick the bowl, Ivan. Just get another one,’ Helga said, leaning over to pull it out of his hands. ‘Right. Well at least we’ve confirmed the victim’s identity. Well done, Yasmine.’

‘Yassy literally knows everyone in the Elfors,’ Penny added as Yasmine walked off.

‘Good. Use her knowledge because we need to start making arrests,’ Helga said, nodding at Colin and Jorgey.

‘Captain, we’re doing what we can,’ Jorgey said.

‘We are all doing what we can. But we must all do more,’ Helga said, looking around at her inner circle. ‘We cannot lose control. Even if the protests and the violence continue, we must be seen to be responding in a robust manner. The whole fleet is waiting for us to fail.’

The meeting ended, everyone hoping to hell things would start calming down.

Except they didn’t. They only got worse.

* * *

‘ALL UNITS! OFFICER DOWN! OFFICER DOWN!’

Early evening of the third day since they returned from the Beijing. Clara’s voice on the police comms. Bedlam in the background.

Colin and Zhang responded from the café with Colin yelling from the police comms controller. ‘Where are they, Jemima?’

‘Commander! I’ve got multiple emergency officer activations outside of the Gilded Pizza. Walkway 13. Level 30!’

They ran up the stairs and out onto Level 30 to see Abdul and Helga and more people pouring into the lanes. A huge brawl was in progress between Humility residents and Elforists and Clara’s team at the same time. Faiza was on the floor with one guy in a headlock trying to detain a suspect while her own face was pouring with blood.

‘HE KNIFED SOMEONE!’ she screamed as a few hefty lads waded in to boot and punch Faiza away and wrench their buddy free, prompting Zhang and Colin to charge in.

A second or so later the Elforists started wilting back, followed swiftly by the Humility lads doing the same and taking flight.

‘Got a body!’ Clara called as she rolled the woman over to see the knife stuck in her chest.

‘That’s Jessie One Ear.’ Half of the woman’s right ear was missing. ‘Rat bit it off when she was a baby,’ Yasmine added, shaking her head at the awfulness of it. At the constant carnage and chaos exploding all around them.

But it still wasn’t over, because that’s when the first rape was reported on the stairwell leading into Neon City.

Zhang and Colin got there a few minutes later and found a crowd of angry Elforists surrounding Smiling Elsie, a popular and pretty young Elfor woman. Elsie’s mom was there, hugging her daughter while others did the same, greatly reducing the chance of forensic recovery from the bits of clothing left on the victim.

Colin got some of the family back while Zhang approached Elsie to get her account. Elsie was nearly hysterical, a state only made worse by someone pouring a shot of Elfor Juice down the poor girl’s throat to steady her nerves.

‘Elsie, you know me. It’s Zhang. Tell me what happened.’

‘She was fucking raped!’ a guy yelled, trying to grab at Zhang as Colin coaxed him away and tried to keep him calm.

‘Two of them,’ Elsie said between hyperventilating sobs. ‘I didn’t see ’em . . . Got somethin’ over my head. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe . . .’

They took her somewhere. They raped her. Then they dumped her near the stairwell.

That was all she could say, and it was all Zhang could do because there were no trained medical staff to get intimate samples. They couldn’t even get her into the sexual offences suite in police HQ to get her full account. They couldn’t do anything other than respond to constant shouts coming over the comms.

‘All units! Reports of looting at the FleetAppleStore. Level 30.’

‘All units! Fight in progress. Stairwell 2 between Levels 30 and 31.’

‘All units! Serious assault in progress.’

Three murders and one rape in three days.

And it didn’t get any better, because by the end of that day, Skinny Jimmy Lankworth was added to that list. An eighteen-year-old lad from the Elfors stabbed during a fight in Neon City. Jimmy was registered and had been pre-selected for engineering school on the Ark.

Jimmy had a future.

Now he was just another statistic caught up in the tit-for-tat killings.

* * *

And now on the fourth day since Helga took victory and set the Elfors free, Detective Zhang Woo sits at the back of the lane outside of Sven’s Eatery and stares dumbly at the reports on his screens.

He swipes one open and reads for a moment, thinking it to be the initial forensic report on Jimmy Lankworth, but it seems familiar and jarring until he realises he’s reading the report for the murder of Jessie One Ear. But there’s the thing because they’re both so similar. Both stabbed in fights. Both young. Both covered with a tapestry of meaningless forensic evidence because they were both in large-scale public brawls which means the DNA could have come from anyone, not just the murderers.

No CCTV, but then no ship in the fleet can have CCTV in public places. It’s part of the Pact, along with the agreement that all ships receive supplies from the Ark and have their waste taken away and processed.

Otherwise known as Federal Law.

Technology is so advanced that it would be simple for an autocratic regime to rule with totalitarian control, but the Ark, and therefore Fleet Federal Law, dictates that people must enjoy a sense of freedom of movement and the right to non-intrusive privacy, which in short means no CCTV, and no hacking bands.

Which then also means no fucking evidence and so Zhang swipes that screen closed and opens another only to read the same thing for the murder of Johnson Patel. The lad that died in his arms on the Level 28 stairwell. A wealthy, connected young man from the upper levels, and Zhang knows his family have tried putting pressure on Jorgey and Helga.

But what can they do?

What can anyone do?

He blinks again at the sight of Colin and Jorgey walking over to find space at the table, bowls of porridge and beakers of coffee in their hands.

‘You worked all night?’ Colin asks without preamble.

Zhang nods.

Colin sits down and stirs his porridge. ‘Go home and rest. I’ll take it from here.’

‘When’s the station opening back up?’ Zhang asks, glancing from Colin to Jorgey.

‘We’re policing within the community,’ Jorgey replies with a shrug at the phrase someone else came up with to justify the fact they don’t have enough staff.

Zhang stays silent and finishes his coffee before walking off. Penny, Yasmine and Sun watch him go, all three staying silent but sharing looks.

‘He’s putting the hours in,’ Jorgey says in a whisper with a glance to Colin.

‘It’s about time,’ Colin mutters.

Zhang is putting the hours in, but it’s not making a difference and so he walks back to his cabin with a sense that nothing he does will matter. That by the time he goes back on duty, there will have been more fights and more stabbings, and maybe even another murder.

Who knows?

Who cares?

Who gives a fuck?

Down the stairs. Into his row. To his cabin. The door opens. Kristi inside putting on her make-up. The scent of coffee in the air from their new coffee machine. The scent of perfume and soap and femininity. Humidity too from a long shower because he hacked his system to take off the limit.

She frowns at the sight of him. Gently. Softly. Care in her eyes. Worry. Concern. ‘I just saw,’ she says, nodding towards a scrolling news feed and the name of Skinny Jimmy Lankworth now added to the list of dead teenagers.

Zhang nods. What can he say? What can he do? He’s got no evidence. No leads. No witnesses. No suspects.

He’s got nothing.

‘Things any better with Colin?’ Kristi asks.

Zhang shrugs and starts stripping off for a shower.

‘You can talk to me, Zhang,’ Kristi says. He doesn’t talk. He just gets naked and steps into the corner as the sides pop out and the water starts flowing over his lean, defined muscles. Over the old scars on his chest and back. Over his shoulders and down his back and his thighs.

He catches her staring. She blushes. She doesn’t know why. Only that she does. She looks away, flustered for a second. ‘I’ve got to get on air.’

He nods and starts lathering up.

‘Kasim, my producer, wants me to cover the murders,’ she adds.

She glances back. Expecting him to say something, but he does that thing and stays silent and brooding as though he’s trapped in his own head.

‘Is that a conflict?’ she asks. ‘I mean. You’re the detective on the case.’

He just looks at her with too much rage and turmoil inside, feeling nothing and everything all at once.

‘Zhang?’ she asks, stepping closer with a rush inside as she swipes to make a call. ‘Kasim, I’m going to be a few minutes late.’

‘Kristi! Are you fucking shitting me? Teddy’s ready to hand over!’

She cuts Kasim off and less than a minute later she’s in the shower, her legs wrapped around Zhang’s waist and her arms splayed out as that dark energy surges up inside of him. That deliciously dark energy. Addictive. Compelling. Dangerous. She can’t help it. She grabs his head between her hands and kisses him passionately and feels that same response as though she is the only woman he has ever loved.

Minutes later and she watches him climb into his sleeping tube while she dresses again. The pain gone from his eyes. That agony now less and suddenly he’s just a man again. An exhausted-looking man.

‘It’ll settle,’ she says as he looks out at her getting dressed. ‘The ship. It’ll settle. People just need time to readjust.’

‘Sure,’ he says, the first word spoken since he walked in. ‘You good?’

She nods and smiles. Ready for another day. ‘I am now,’ she jokes with a wink. He grins back at her. Suddenly goofish and charming. She kisses his cheek and strokes his head. ‘Sleep. Ping me when you’re up.’

She heads out and glances back before the door closes to smile softly at his sleepy wave, but that soft smile fades away and her blue eyes harden as she turns and walks on.

That feeling inside still there. That sense of there being something else going on. She thinks back to that night when the shuttle got back and how she was ordered to leave the docking port and then subjected to a complete media ban.

‘So what?’ Kasim said when she ranted at him. ‘The shuttle had a technical issue. There’s enough other shit going on. Forget about it. Captains use the media blackout all the time. You remember Captain Rudy on the Vlad? That damn guy had a blackout going on every week. He had mistresses and rent boys all over the fleet. Total abuse of the law. And that American captain? Kennedy or whatever the fuck the yanks always call their captains. He ordered a blackout anytime anyone did anything.’

Kristi realised she wasn’t getting anywhere and ended the call while seething inside that she’d helped Helga during the riots and run with her through the lanes. She’d even joined in and helped Erik the Rolls when he went down. But suddenly she was ordered away like some idiot that wasn’t part of Helga’s secret fucking club.

And Helga promised to tell Kristi what was going on during the riots, but every time she asks for an interview she’s brushed off. Later. Soon. Not right now.

And truthfully, Kristi can see Helga has her hands full. So do Abdul, and Penny, and everyone else.

And especially Zhang.

She grimaces to herself as she thinks about him and rushes up the stairwell towards the retail zone – and honestly? She doesn’t know what to think. She doesn’t even know what’s going on between them.

He came home late after getting back from the Beijing and they fucked for nearly three hours. Then he slept and she didn’t see him again until late the next night and the same thing happened. They fucked for hours then slept.

The sex was amazing. Jesus. The sex is beyond amazing. But that’s all there is. Just sex. No. That’s not right. He’s tender and caring, and he holds her in a way that melts her. But he doesn’t speak. He locks it all up inside. But then that’s his issue, and she’s not some simple idiot ready to open her legs for a hot guy that can’t communicate.

Except that’s exactly what she’s doing, while also knowing that Zhang is putting in ridiculous hours to try and stop the murders and rapes. He’s at every scene. Begging for witnesses. Scouring for evidence.

But then so is she, and so are all the other reporters because the ongoing Elfor clusterfuck is still the number one trend in the fleet.

She reaches the café and heads to the back of the lane. To the area used by the people now running the ship.

Policing within the community, someone called it. Kristi can’t remember who. But she does spot Yasmine sitting in front of an uneaten bowl of porridge and jam. Her face a mask of deep thought. Her dark eyes staring at nothing.

Kristi wants to ask her what she stole that night from the Fleet Finance offices. What is the code? What does that mean? Where’s Dmitri? Why did he want it back?

But something inside tells her not to ask those questions. There’s a hardness in Yasmine. Something in her eyes that suggests the response could be explosive. Just like Abdul. They even look alike. The same skin tone and eyes. The same quick temper.

No. Asking directly won’t get the answers Kristi wants.

Which means she’s back to playing the long game.

‘Kristi, good morning,’ Jorgey says on seeing her sliding into a chair at the next table over. Colin twists around to nod. Kristi nods back.

‘We’re getting a press release ready on the overnight murder,’ Colin says.

‘Thanks. I’ll grab a bite first and check in with the studio. Anything else going on?’

Colin shrugs. ‘Lots. Fights. More lootings. A few more stabbings but only minor injuries, and we finally got med services running again. It’s being staffed by nurses from the Elfors actually.’

Kristi nods as she takes it in. She likes Colin. He’s a professional. He knows the score and that cops have to feed the press otherwise the press starts hunting.

‘Sure. I can cover all of that,’ she says as he turns back to his own breakfast and she smiles up at the server pushing a bowl of porridge and a beaker onto her table with a wink, and a second later Kristi looks over to Yasmine still staring into space and that question still bounces around in her skull.

What is the code and just what the hell did Yasmine steal?

Then she frowns and looks around for Pretty Boy. Kristi interviewed him the night of the porridge party and up till now he was pretty much glued to Yasmine’s side – but she hasn’t seen him for days now.

Which only leads to more questions, because where the hell is he?

5

‘Right. Let’s find the little shits,’ Helga says with a steely glint in her eyes as she looks at Sam. Four days since Helga claimed victory and now the two of them stand side by side looking steely and tough and determined. ‘You seek and I’ll destroy.’

‘Best game ever,’ Sam says, while activating his system to bathe the room in a three-sixty-degree green light to find even the most stealthy and advanced listening devices, or, as Helga calls them, the really sneaky little fuckers.

Sam likes it when Helga swears. It makes him smile. She doesn’t do it very often and she’s all educated and posh, so it sounds really cool. Apart from when she’s angry. Like that night when they all went up to the bridge, when that look in her eyes silenced even Yasmine.

That was an astonishing night too. The whole Beijing stuff going on and his concert with Chi-Chi then having that raw situation with Yasmine about how she was raped by Dmitri, and then Sam not being paid and feeling used.

That was bad enough. But then the shuttle lost power on the way back to the Humility – and that was just insane. He didn’t feel it so much at the time as he was so absorbed in fixing it so they could get the power back on.

Then of course they got back, and Helga wanted to talk to them, but the conference room wasn’t secure, so they went up to the bridge. Which was the thing that really blew Sam’s mind. Even after all the other crazy stuff.

Because he was on the bridge.

The actual bridge, and he couldn’t help but stare out the windows, then at the instruments, and the chairs, and the floor, and the desks, then back to the windows.

He spent the rest of that night and most of the following day helping where he could, using the first aid skills taught to all airlock operatives to press buttons on the AI medical fixing machines swiped from med services. Machines that applied self-sealing splints and sterile bandages. Machines that stitched wounds or used surgical glue on cuts.

Then they were told to go home and rest. He went home with Yasmine. Too tired for anything other than sleep, but the next day soon came and they woke up cuddling in his tube. He stayed still, remembering the footage he’d seen on the Beijing. She’d been raped. She’d been traumatised. He got it. He understood.

But she started moving. She pushed into him and then took his hand and moved it to her breasts. It felt natural and unforced, and he went slow. He kissed her neck and asked if that was okay. She said it was, and after a moment she rolled onto her back and while he kissed her shoulders and chest, she tugged her underwear off.

Then she froze and it was like the energy had been sucked out of the tube. He stopped. She told him to keep going, but he couldn’t. She was cold and stiff, and it was like kissing a dead body. She said she was sorry. He said it was okay, but her eyes were flat and emotionless. Like there was nothing there.

A call came in and they rushed off to help, but it left him confused. He didn’t know what to say or do, and he felt a surge of guilt for feeling horny. Like he was a sex pest pawing at her. He told himself that she was traumatised, and she needed help.

Except he didn’t know how to help her, and then later that morning, amid the chaos of a ship gripped in turmoil, Penny found him in the café walkway.

‘Boss wants to see you, Sam.’

‘Okay,’ he said and walked over to Abdul standing two feet away.

‘What?’ Abdul said.

‘Not that boss,’ Penny said. ‘And just because I said boss it doesn’t mean male.’

‘Right,’ Sam said. Not wanting to be seen as sexist but still not entirely sure who she meant. ‘Er . . .’

‘Helga, Sam. Helga wants to see you.’

‘Right!’ he said and set off.

‘Use the elevator,’ she called after him. ‘You’ve been given access.’

He did indeed use the elevator, and he may have gone up and down four or five times just for the sheer thrill of it before finally stepping out onto Level 1 to find Helga waiting for him.

‘Had enough or did you want to go down again?’ she asked, but she smiled when she said it, so he figured he wasn’t in trouble. ‘I need your help,’ she said as she started walking off. He rushed after her while peering about at the empty corridor and the empty rooms. In fact he didn’t see anyone else at all, apart from Olga and Ivan, who kept Helga in view at all times.

Helga then took him to the security doors and led him up to the bridge again. That being The. Actual. Bridge.

‘Your new offices,’ she said when they got inside the darkened room. ‘Bless. I don’t think I’ve seen such a look of awe. Right. I’ll tell you what I need. I need the entirety of Level 1 cleared of bugs and listening devices, and I think some of them might be sneaky little fuckers that need rooting out. Which means you’ll need a good security scanner to find them. Think you can do it?’

Sam nodded, mainly because he was incapable of human speech right at that moment.

‘Good. Call me when you’re ready, and we’ll go hunting. There’s a coffee machine downstairs in the staffroom. Help yourself.’

‘How will I get out?’ he asked as she started walking down the stairs. ‘The door self-seals and I don’t have security clearance.’

‘Sam, you remotely hacked your way into Pierre’s offices using my band while in the middle of performing in a live concert on the Beijing. I don’t think a one-hundred-and twenty-year-old door is going to pose an issue.’

‘Right,’ he said again, because he figured she’d just given him permission to hack the door to the bridge.

‘Penny is sending you a contract and the first payment. We’ll list you as a cyber security consultant. Does that sound okay?’

A cyber security consultant?

Dear god that sounded more than okay.

‘Itskanks,’ he said while trying to say thanks and it’s cool at the same time in an effort to be a dashing heroic laid-back cyber security consultant.

Helga just smiled and walked off and he was left alone on the bridge. Which was, despite everything awful happening, seriously the best day ever.

And in truth, he didn’t do any work at all. How could he with that view to eat? The whole fleet right there outside the windows. Space. Stars. Spaceships. Shuttles. Blinking lights, and more space.

In fact, he only moved when, several hours later, Helga pushed a beaker of coffee into his hands. ‘Don’t let it go cold. Security scanner?’ she asked.

He frowned.

‘For the bugs, Sam?’

‘Right! I’m on it. I was just thinking it all through. You know. Like planning it in my mind.’

She stared at him.

He sagged a little bit. ‘Sorry. I got distracted,’ he admitted.

She smiled and said it was okay and she was glad of his honesty. ‘You can come up here anytime, Sam. But we do need to use our offices. We can’t run a ship from Sven’s Eatery.’

‘Where do you want me to start?’

She led him down into one of the general offices used by the aides and assistants who were all still hiding in their cabins and refusing to work. ‘Start with this one,’ she told him.

He immediately found five bugs, which considering it was only a small room was quite impressive.

‘Could there be any more?’ Helga asked.

Sam then applied some extra programming to the security scanner and found another three bugs.

‘Good,’ Helga announced. ‘How do we destroy them? Will this do it?’ she asked, holding her flexi-pipe up.

‘No. They’re impact-resistant. They need zapping.’

‘Zapping,’ she said before sweeping off and coming back a few seconds later with a crackling voltage stick. ‘This do it? Great. You seek and I’ll destroy. Light ’em up, Sam!’

‘Now that was satisfying,’ she said with a grin when she’d finished. ‘Right. I’ll run down and check on things then pop back up to do another room.’

‘I can zap them if you want,’ he called as she rushed off.

‘I’m the zapper!’ she called, making him laugh as she swept out.

He went back up to the bridge, because why wouldn’t he go back up to the bridge, which did also involve hacking the security door. But Helga did say he was allowed to do it, and besides, he was a cyber security consultant.

Which set him to thinking about two things.

The first was something Helga said about seek and destroy, and the second was that the security measures in place on Level 1 were quite possibly the weakest security measures he’d ever seen.

And so he set about doing two things. The first was that he created an algorithm to detect Yasmine’s facial features and then he wrote that into a virus and sent it out to seek and destroy any image and any footage of Yasmine on the net, but before doing so, he sent her a message.

Sam: Hey. I can delete any footage of you from the Beijing if you wanted.

Yasmine: God yes please! Can you do that? Delete me from everywhere. Where are you anyway?

Sam: You mean the whole net? I’m up top helping Helga look for bugs.

Yasmine: Why are you doing that? I’ll tell Abdul to call Cockroach Carl up. He’s awesome at getting rid of bugs. He’s trained rats to find and eat them. But yes please! Delete from everywhere. Thank you xxx

Sam got to work and no sooner than later his virus was released upon the fleet, where it hunted and devoured any and all images and footage of Yasmine. He’d even added a program to delete audio files and overwrite them with general crowd noises.

Once that was done, he set about doing the second thing, which was to enhance the security measures on Level 1. Because, he figured, there’d be no point removing all the bugs if literally anyone could hack through a basic door and leave a load more.

And so that’s what they did. Room by room with Sam seeking and Helga zapping, which was cool. It was nice. He liked it, and she was completely different when they were alone too.

‘That’s quite high,’ he says as they stare up at the ceiling and the last blinking red sneaky little fucker tucked up behind a venting pipe.

Five minutes later Abdul steps out of the elevator and looks down the Level 1 corridor to Penny, Ivan, and Olga staring into one of the offices at Helga and Sam both floating in the air in a room bathed in green light with Helga jabbing a voltage stick at the back of a pipe.

‘Bit more!’ Sam urges. ‘You need to get it right in there.’

‘I am getting it in there!’ Helga says with a grunt.

‘What the hell?’ Abdul asks, standing just back from the threshold with the weird sensation of feeling gravity beneath him, but not ahead. He pushes his arm into the room and feels the weightlessness. ‘How you going to get down?’ he asks as they both stop and look down.

‘Er,’ Sam says.

‘You shall catch us!’ Helga calls out with a determined jab as the last sneaky little fucker blinks out. ‘I got it, Sam!’ she calls, going in for a high five.

‘Don’t high five!’ Abdul calls as they do, indeed, undertake that hearty clapping of hands which sends them both flying off in different directions while Abdul rubs the bridge of his nose.

‘So? How do we get down?’ Helga calls from one side of the room.

‘Use the pipes to climb down then get your feet on the floor. That’s it. Sam, you too,’ Abdul calls. Sam goes hand under hand down a pipe then rotates to get his feet on the floor. ‘Helga? You ready?’

‘Do I look ready?’ Helga asks while still upside down. She rotates to get her feet down then beams a smile. ‘Get the gravity back on, Sam!’

‘No!’ Penny yells.

‘The chairs!’ Abdul yells at the same time, just as Sam switches the gravity back on and the chairs and everything else that wasn’t bolted down crash back to the floor, breaking desks and shelves.

‘Great!’ Helga says, swinging her voltage stick as she walks out. ‘We need some new furniture anyway. Take five, Sam! I need to do some captaining.’

She gives him a wink as she sweeps out with Abdul and Penny behind her and her finger held up to keep them silent until they pass into her office. ‘I think we’re secure in here.’

‘Have you found many?’ Abdul asks.

‘Oh, dozens. They’re everywhere,’ Helga replies. ‘Anyway. Any updates?’

‘We’ve had another rape,’ Abdul says as he drops onto one of the sofas in her office.

‘What? When?’

‘Last night. The victim only just reported it,’ Penny says. ‘Elfor girl. Unregistered. She thought the police wouldn’t take her report.’

‘That’s all we need,’ Helga says darkly. ‘Serial rapists on top of gang warfare.’

‘Tensions are very high,’ Penny says, taking a chair.

‘Understatement,’ Abdul mutters as Helga spots Jorgey coming out of the elevator via her desk interface, one of the new security measures put in place by Sam.

‘You’ve heard then,’ Jorgey says, the second she walks into the office and clocks the grim expression on Helga’s face.

‘What’s that so far?’ Helga asks. ‘Five murders and two rapes in four days?’

Nods from the others. Grim expressions. Grim moods. The energy hard.

‘And we’ve still got the shuttle company demanding we release their shuttle,’ Penny says with an apologetic wince at adding more pressure.

‘Fuck the shuttle company,’ Helga mutters. ‘Tell them we’re keeping it suppressed to stop fear spreading, but one more demand and we’ll go public with what happened. Actually, Abdul, you make the call. Give them a flash of Abdul the Angry.’

He nods in reply.

‘Listen. I know you’re against it but—’ Jorgey starts to say.

‘No Feds,’ Helga cuts in. ‘And stop asking me. We’re in this on our own.’

‘We’re at risk of losing control.’

‘Four deaths is not losing control. When we get to forty or four hundred then we can think about control, but until then we ride the wave and deal with it. We just have to keep the lid on until we get a break,’ Helga says to the three of them. ‘Right. I need a quick word with Abdul. You two head down for lunch. We’ll join you in five.’

Abdul watches Penny and Jorgey until they’re gone, then turns to incline his head at Helga and watches as she rises from her desk and walks over to straddle his lap.

‘Anything from the Six?’ he whispers.

She shakes her head.

‘That’s good,’ he replies. ‘First rule of business. Let the other side come to you.’

‘This isn’t business. It’s politics.’

‘Same thing.’

‘They’re the Six.’

He shrugs again. ‘Fuck the Six. We’re the Elfor Two.’

She snorts a laugh and leans down to kiss his lips. ‘I love your confidence. I think I need it right now. But I also need to eat. Hunting bugs is hungry work.’

She pulls him to his feet and the two of them head out into the corridor. ‘Where’s Sam?’ Abdul asks. ‘Sam! We’re going for lunch.’

‘He’ll be on the bridge,’ Helga says. ‘I’ll bring him something back.’

‘Looks like you two were having fun,’ Abdul remarks as they get inside the elevator with Ivan and Olga squeezing in behind them.

Helga smiles. ‘I love having him up here. There’s something very calming about Sam. He sees things differently. There’s no hatred or revenge.’

The doors close as she thinks about what happened to Sam on the Ark and then on the Beijing and how Dmitri and Karen used Osmosis to get into Sam’s head, leaving him feeling alienated and used. She knows that Sam was an orphan and has a massive void in his life that was once filled by a mother and father.

She also knows that Sam has incredible skills, and right now he is probably one of the best assets she has, which is why she called him up to Level 1 and said he could go onto the bridge whenever he wanted. She sensed the energy in him and how he responded to her, and how he sometimes looks at Abdul the way a son looks to a father.

That’s why she took him coffee, and why she spends time hunting bugs with him. It’s fun for sure, but fun isn’t top of her list right now, whereas having an asset like Sam on side is definitely a priority. And he’s already beefed up the security on Level 1.

But she also meant it when she said she likes his energy. He is calming and the way he sees things is very different.

She and Abdul reach Level 30 and make their way to a packed Sven’s Eatery.

‘MY DAD! MY DAD! THEY STABBED HIM! YASSY! MY DAD!’

A scream ripping through the air. A young Elforist woman running towards the café wild with fear and panic.

Yasmine drops the bowls and runs out of the café after the girl who’s setting off back into the lanes, as Helga and Abdul turn to follow and others pour out behind them.

Yasmine runs fast. Sprinting ahead of Abdul and Helga. Sprinting with everything she has. She rounds a corner to a brawl in progress with seven or eight men laying into two more curled up in the foetal position. A quick glance confirms that the two men on the floor are Elforists and the others are Humility lads. Crowds of shoppers and people on lunch screaming and running around them in panic.

Yasmine reaches them first and throws herself into the chaos, fists slamming into the back of a muscular guy. He lashes out, getting an elbow into her guts, she grunts and gets a fist into his kidneys, then tries wrenching him back to stop his feet stamping on the Elforist’s head.

Motion at her side. Abdul wading in. They drive attention from the guys on the floor as Helga spots one of the lads lifting his foot ready to stamp down hard.

She screams a warning and surges in to use her body to stop him, but the lad is strong and young and lashes out with a stinging backhand to Helga’s cheek, knocking her off her feet.

Ivan goes in with a vicious punch that just glances off the guy’s head, but still with enough power to send him flying back into his group, who start grabbing at each other and shouting to run as the others pile into the mêlée. Clara, Boris and Pasha. Zhang and Colin with Taser pistols out. Shouts in the air. Red flashing lights over the heads of the cops to make people move and get back.

‘HELGA’S DOWN!’ someone shouts. ‘HELGA’S DOWN! HELGA’S DOWN!’

It seems to ignite the already charged air as people nearby drop their lunches and beakers of drink to run towards the shouting. Elforists from the lanes and walkways barge through shoppers, sending them reeling in response to those words, now being shouted louder and louder.

‘HELGA’S DOWN! HELGA’S DOWN!’

The shout echoes through the retail zone as more Elforists race to the scene, adding more chaos to the noise and carnage already underway. Ones and twos then groups, then dozens and more as that shout reaches the stairwell and echoes down, with yet more Elforists charging the stairs, roaring because someone had dared touch their queen.

‘I’m okay. I’m okay!’ Helga calls, now on her feet, a dribble of blood oozing over her chin from a split lip. ‘I’m fine. Thank you.’ She takes in the size of the crowd pressing in around her. Men and women standing shoulder to shoulder and looking ready to murder. ‘Honestly. I’m okay. I’m alright. Thank you,’ she says, feeling strange and weird from the astonishing attention as yet more Elforists flood into the lanes. Stick-figure tattoos everywhere. Fast Hands Ferdy. Carla Big Lips. Honey the Money. Lick Lick Suck. Sven the Pipe. Erik the Rolls. Janey Dead Leg. Dil and Mild Marko and the cleaning crews, and the retail zone becomes choked within an instant.

And from inside a nearby store, the quiet man watches on as the Elforists flood to surround their queen like ants within a nest. What a sight it is too, and in that second he starts to realise that the Ice Queen’s army might be a credible threat.

One that needs negating.

6

It wasn’t one more murder in the retail zone that lunchtime.

It was two.

Brian Donnelly. A twenty-year-old man from Level 28 was stabbed while waiting in line outside the Fleet-Juice-Shack bar.

Another Elforist – Ardu the Romanian – rushed in to try and shield the lad, causing the Elforist gang to run off, at which point the Humility gang, on hearing the screams and shouts, took Ardu to be the attacker and first stabbed then proceeded to stamp on him.

Ardu’s daughter and her boyfriend tried to stop them, but they kicked the boyfriend unconscious and the daughter ran to the only place she knew would help.

Sven’s Eatery.

‘We got nothing,’ Zhang says at the back of the café to a late-night meeting. ‘We got no witnesses. No CCTV. No forensics.’

‘Somebody must have seen it happen,’ Penny says.

‘Sure they did,’ Zhang replies. ‘But would you provide a testimony right now? People don’t feel safe to speak out. You know what else? No one is uploading footage filmed from their bands either. They’re too afraid.’

‘We need to get more boots on the ground,’ Colin says.

‘We don’t have any more boots to put on the ground, honey. You know that,’ Clara cuts in. Leaning next to Yasmine. ‘We got all the tac-trained bodyguards up from Neon that we can use, and the Humility police won’t come back to work.’

‘What about the stair guards?’ Abdul asks. ‘They’re not doing anything now.’

‘We’re using the ones we can,’ Clara says. ‘But they need training. Policing ain’t just about guarding the stairs. It’s complex and filled with procedures that need to be taught. Cops need tutoring, you cannot for one second just put tough people in uniforms and hope for the best. That’s how militias form and lynch mobs happen. Listen, I’m no detective, but I am a specialist in public order, and from what I can see, these murders and rapes are the cause for the disorder. You grip them and my team will stand a better chance of controlling the rest. But how you do that is down to you.’

‘We got nothing,’ Zhang says defensively.

‘Zhangy, honey. I ain’t pointing fingers. I’m just saying it how it is.’

‘All units!’ A voice calling out from the police comms on their bands. ‘Reports of a young woman found on the second stairwell into Neon. Naked and in a distressed state.’

‘Another one,’ Colin says to an explosion of motion as the rest period they all desperately needed vanishes and they once more run for the stairwell and down to another victim surrounded by angry Elforists.

And while they respond, so Hector Baptiste, enjoying a bite to eat in the Gilded Pizza within the retail zone, receives a call on his band.

Audio only. No video.

‘Yes?’ he enquires, having not expected the call at all. What he expected was a message giving him a time to hologram himself into another meeting with the Six after reaching out to say he had an update.

‘You have an update?’ the caller asks. Hector recognises the voice instantly, with the briefest of hesitations at the direct contact.

‘I do, Jade Emperor,’ he says, while checking around to make sure there’s nobody close enough to listen. ‘My apologies. I must have missed the schedule for the meeting. I can find somewhere to hologram in.’

‘No need. Tell me.’

Another slight pause from Hector. ‘Of course, Jade Emperor. My update was in regard to the two further murders earlier today. I saw Helga running in to assist. She was hit in the face. Someone shouted Helga is down and the immediate area flooded with Elforists.’

‘Why?’

‘My opinion is that they were rushing to support Helga.’

Silence.

‘Anything else?’ the voice asks.

‘That is all,’ Hector says.

‘I will deal with this. Await further instructions.’

The call ends with the quiet man frowning gently, wondering why only the Jade Emperor called him.

‘One grilled rat,’ the server says with a smile, sliding a synth pizza laden with melted synth cheese onto his table. Hector smiles back before taking a bite and feeling that strange sensation of eating something made of chemicals that’s trying to trick his brain into thinking it’s real food.

But at least the rat is real.

He brings up a news feed to watch while eating, and there’s Kristi Carter running down a set of stairs.

‘We’re almost there,’ she calls out, turning the last flight of stairs to find the air flashing red over the heads of the cops on the scene. Clara and her uniformed teams trying to keep people back. Abdul and Penny appealing to Elforists to stay calm. Yasmine in the middle comforting a sobbing young woman as Detective Zhang Woo and Colin Sanders try to ask her questions. ‘Has there been another rape?’ Kristi asks as the cops nearby look away and refuse to engage with her. ‘Vice-Captain! Has there been another rape?’

Hector spots how tired Abdul looks when he nods at Kristi with a grim expression. ‘It’s too soon to say exactly what happened, but it’s looking that way,’ Abdul says.

‘Another rape. And that’s after two further stabbing fatalities today. Your ship is imploding around you and you don’t even have a police station. Have you lost control? When will you call in the Feds? Or are you waiting for the Ark to make that decision for you and board your ship against your will to protect the innocent people trapped on here?’

‘Oh, you go girl,’ Hector murmurs with a glint of delight at seeing Kristi Carter on the offensive. But good for her. She was at risk of becoming Helga’s pet for a while and losing her impartiality. But then what did Helga and Abdul expect? Kristi helped them during the riots and was then given a media blackout order on the shuttle incident and kicked out of the docking port.

He listens to Abdul trying to give a response, but it’s evident that Kristi’s hard line has caught him out, and a moment later Hector’s band vibrates with another call.

Audio only, no video, and the Jade Emperor gives her instructions without preamble.

‘You will go to Level 5 to the emergency airlock and board the shuttle . . .’

He stops chewing and listens to the rest while figuring that Abdul and Helga aren’t the only ones in for a busy night.

A few minutes later he climbs the stairs to Level 5 and steps off with a nod to the private-hire security operatives brought in to replace the stair guards, because he’s clearly an educated man, who is surely allowed to be on such a high level. And besides, he just showed them the pass issued by Councillor Dom Patel. ‘Poor Dom. Just lost his nephew to those awful Elforists,’ Hector remarks sadly.

He walks on into the rows of cabins where the super-wealthy live. The rows that look nothing like the uniform, symmetrical rows of cabins below. These are constructed along winding paths and avenues bordered by flowering bushes and small trees. Some of the cabins even have small front gardens with white picket fences, and again he smiles and nods at the private-hire security guards patrolling in pairs.

On he goes. Past Dom Patel’s cabin and on past the cabin of Jean Schreiber, where virtual ribbons of black still hang outside in a show of mourning.

On he goes, this quiet man of average height and average build, to the far end where the utility units are housed in discreet rooms. The pipes and vents. The things needed for people to live that the rich don’t want to see, and there, at the very end, in a dark spot, he finds the emergency airlock, and a shuttle already docked on the other side.

He slips through into an empty compartment and without a word spoken the shuttle uncouples and flies underneath the worldship Humility. A shuttle whose digital signature has been removed from the mainframe on the Ark. A shuttle that has no pre-lodged flight plan and that isn’t flying anywhere at all right now. In fact, it’s coupled to its normal docking point on the Ark where many witnesses would testify that they had it in constant view should they ever be asked.

A short while later it docks quickly. But then the distance wasn’t far at all, and the quiet man slips out onto Level 5 with that jarring feeling of stepping onto another worldship that is identical to the Humility, while being so very different.

The walls are the same height. The floors and ceilings are the same dimensions, and the utility units are housed in the same area, but they’re all slightly different – and within a moment he’s strolling through the ever so slightly different lanes and avenues where the super-wealthy of this ship reside.

A few people pass by and he nods in greeting. A quiet man of average build with exquisite manners surely belongs in such a place, and so he proceeds without hindrance to the stairwell and all the way to the very top where he cannot pass any further because of the security doors blocking his way.

But then these security doors and the systems controlling them are over one hundred and twenty years old and he slips inside without those systems registering his entry.

A quiet world greets him. It’s late in the evening and the aides and assistants are at home, leaving only a few Level 1 security operatives on duty.

He finds them outside the door. Two guards looking up from their bands with hands reaching for weapons on seeing a stranger. Then they see he’s not a stranger at all and without a word spoken they both sit back down and the quiet man slips in through the door.

The sound of running water greets him. Humidity in the air. He looks around the large room and marvels at the items of technology on show. A pair of gravity shoes that enable the user to walk normally in zero-gravity environments. X-ray glasses that can see through walls. He tries them on and smiles at the scanning field showing the shapes of objects on the other side of the walls. One of them revealing an adult figure making motions to clean himself in a shower.

Hector slips them off quickly, figuring they would be very useful while also knowing they cause complete and irreversible blindness if used for more than a minute. He views the other things on shelves and units, stopping to frown at an old Earth arcade machine and read the words across the top.

‘Pac-Man,’ he murmurs, seeing a picture of a little blob eating other blobs. What a strange thing, but then this is the worldship Kindness, which is said to be the heart of the fleet’s technology. If they mean gaming of course. Because all this ship really does now is produce games and hold gaming tournaments. It was meant to develop scientific technology to help them find life on another planet and enhance their lives within space, but the Six didn’t want it to have that level of power, so they stripped it bare of any research equipment and left it as a gaming hub.

Well. It’s all very interesting, but it’s not what he’s here for, so he heads across the room and into the adjoining bathroom of the luxury Level 1 cabin used to house the captain.

That being Captain Sully Singh who is currently rinsing off the lather in his luxury unrestricted shower.

A nervous man at any time, and even more so lately with all the mess going on about that damned code he helped put in the shuttle Gagarin. What a thing to get caught up in and it’s even worse now that Pierre Jefferson and his entire security team have been killed. How did that even happen? He should have been safe in his offices on Level 1.

At least Sully is safe. In his offices, being guarded by his own loyal security team. At least that’s what he tells himself as he motions for the shower to end and reaches out to grab his towel then cries out with a yelp of fright at seeing the quiet man holding it in his hand, and such is that jolt of fear that Sully jerks back and slips to land on his naked backside. He doesn’t speak but gibbers nonsense then swallows and tries to summon some composure, which isn’t easy to do when you’re naked and wet on the floor.

‘Do you know who I work for?’ Hector asks as Sully makes the connection and nods rapidly.

‘I did what they said. I didn’t help Helga.’

‘Good. And now you have some more instructions . . .’

* * *

Less than three minutes later the quiet man walks out of Captain Sully Singh’s private quarters without either of the guards even glancing at him, and after a brief stroll down to Level 5 he once more boards the shuttle as a call comes in on his band.

Audio only. No video.

‘Is it done?’

‘Yes,’ he replies.

‘Good. You have another task.’

Hector pauses again because his original orders were to go somewhere else after speaking to Sully Singh on the Kindness, but then it’s not the done thing to argue with the Jade Emperor. ‘Of course,’ he says.

The call cuts out and the shuttle flies on.

* * *

A few hundred miles away, another small private shuttle also flies on. A shuttle that also didn’t file a flight plan and which is also not recorded or showing on the mainframe. A woman inside. Tall with blonde hair pulled back. She sits in silence and waits as the shuttle passes on the underside of their destination. Then it rises past the hull towards the top where it quickly and quietly docks.

Except this one doesn’t dock at Level 5, because this ship has a different layout to the others, and Level 5 on this ship is not used for residential.

Instead, it docks at an airlock at Level 6, where the woman exits and walks through commercial kitchens filled with workers. Most of them with stick-figure tattoos on their necks and arms. She walks through commercial laundry rooms staffed by workers from the Hutongs, the Bustees and the Elfors. The fetchers and carriers of the fleet. The lifters and grafters.

A busy place. A bustling place. She gains a few looks, but nothing of any real interest. The worldship Abstinence, despite having the smallest residential numbers of the Virtue fleet, has the largest standing population due to being used as a vacation resort by the entire fleet.

The Ab-Spa being the pinnacle of that resort, hence why there isn’t an identical Level 5 on this ship, because everything from Level 10 up is used as part of the hotel and vacation resort. From the cheaper cabins, the smaller pools, the cheaper restaurants and buffets and budget spas on the lower areas to the ultra-fine dining and incredible tranquillity pool on the very top. A pool constructed under one seamless sheet of glass, giving a glorious unobstructed view of space.

But the woman isn’t going to enjoy any of those facilities, or partake in a vigorous all-body massage that may or may not come with a happy ending depending on the discreet extras paid for, but instead, the tall woman with the tied-back blonde hair goes down a level and through the clubs where once-famous singers hold seasonal residencies, and on through the comedy venues and gambling halls filled with virtual reality fruit machines and hologram blackjack.

Down she goes to the next level and the children’s play areas and nurseries, provided so that stressed parents can dump their offspring and get a guilt-free massage with a happy ending while their kids play in safety.

Down she goes, to the next level and the commercial arrivals and lounges and gift shops so vacationers can buy trinkets made by people from the Elfors, the Bustees and the Hutongs, to take back home as a memento of their often once-in-a-lifetime holiday on the worldship Abstinence.

And down she goes again, through a security barrier to prevent vacationers straying outside of the resort. A security barrier she bypasses with ease and one that doesn’t record her entry.

She walks out onto a level filled with rows of cabins where the workers and grafters reside. Crammed into small rooms and sharing limited showers.

Down to another level where the managers live. Slightly bigger. Slightly better.

Down again to the senior managers and resident artistes who were once fleet-famous, and down again to where the wealthy reside. The elite. The connected. Every ship has them. Every ship needs them.

She drops one more level to the Abstinence’s equivalent of Level 1, where again she enters with ease and walks past the security guards who rise to block her only to see the team leader shaking his head and making them step aside.

She passes through without a word spoken and into the private quarters of Captain Carlos Vanquith, currently thrusting away between the legs of a Russian waitress who smiled and flirted her way into his bed. A Russian waitress who stares past him to the tall blonde woman striding in. A Russian waitress who shows no reaction until she gets the nod from the tall blonde woman. Only then does she push Captain Vanquith away, and in so doing gives easier access for the tall blonde woman to grasp a fistful of his hair and wrench his head back as she presses a blade to his throat.

He gasps in shock. His eyes going wide. His dick wilting.

‘Do you know who I work for?’

‘I did what they said,’ he whispers, sweat pouring down his face.

‘And now you have more instructions,’ Petra says into his ear. She speaks calmly, telling him what he needs to know while the Russian waitress presses her hands to his chest to help keep him in place. ‘Do you understand?’ Petra asks when she finishes.

Carlos nods with a tiny motion as a jet of urine spurts out from fear.

‘Urgh. He piss on me,’ the Russian waitress says with disgust.

‘Trust me. He’s not the first politician to piss on a Russian,’ Petra remarks.

She steps back smoothly, the knife gone from view as the Russian mutters at Carlos sliding off to one side with a whimper, and a short while later Petra goes back up through the levels all the way to the airlock and into the shuttle as a call comes in on her band.

Audio only. No video.

‘Is it done?’ The Jade Emperor asks.

‘Yes.’

‘Good.’

* * *

Petra’s shuttle decouples as Hector’s docks alongside another airlock meant for emergency use.

He slips through and into a plain utilitarian corridor lined with doors to storerooms and workshops. A dull and distant noise in the air.

A security door ahead. He gets through easily, without the system registering his presence, and heads into the corridors and walkways lined with food stalls and bars and gift shops selling the team colours of whatever sports and teams are playing in the multi-use stadiums.

Memorabilia line the walls. Holo clips and images of past sporting moments in the fleet’s history. Like the time the hundred metres record was broken with a sub-eight second run. Or that time the Icelandic giant Edthor Hallson deadlifted six hundred and fifty kilos in normal gravity.

3-D images of sparring opponents from martial arts tournaments, and boxers facing off amid wrestlers mid-grip and Judo fighters mid-throw. Gymnasts spinning. Pole-vaulters leaping, and of course, the pride of the fleet, a myriad of bearded men and bearded women in baggy shorts or super-skin-tight outfits taking part in FleetCrossFit.

Hector isn’t sure why some of the women insist on growing beards before they compete, but apparently it goes back to the old Earth days, when you couldn’t enter a box without a beard. Which is what CrossFitters called their gyms. Because the word gym wasn’t beardy enough.

That said, Hector, like many other people in the fleet, quite enjoys watching the FleetCrossGames, in the same way he quite enjoys watching the annual Fleet’s Strongest Human.

He stops to deviate into one of the walkways leading to the stadium and steps out to the roar of the crowd, urging on two teams in the arena playing zero-G soccer. Men and women in the air using only their feet to place a ball into the opposite net without the use of gravity. It’s a spectacular sport and one he wishes he could stay and enjoy, but work calls and so on he goes.

Back into the walkways and along until he passes from one stadium to another and again he can’t resist nipping out, but instantly regrets doing so because his favourite game is being played.

The bone-crunching zero-G Australia Rules there-are-no-rules-just-get-the-bloody-ball-in-the-other-net Ball. Which effectively means you can do what the hell you like to the other team.

Hector loves it. It’s brutally violent yet incredibly strategic, and played by people with such grace of motion they could be ballet dancers. He starts to turn away but a roar from the crowd makes him spin back to see Canada on the charge. A crunch of bone and blood flies out into the zero-G air as the Aussies fly back from the ferocious attack.

‘Well played. Yeah. Yeah,’ Hector says while clapping with everyone else and nodding his head in that knowing way that good sporting types do when the other team does something awesome.

A sigh and on he goes, back to work and into the corridors and walkways and through another security door and down to Level 10 to a VIP function room filled with young police officers all in their number one dress uniforms being addressed by the captain of the worldship Chastity, Fei Hung-Shu.

‘And so, it gives me great pleasure to welcome you all into the Chastity police accelerated promotion scheme for Asian officers. You have all been chosen and sponsored by either your own chiefs or by a captain or vice-captain, and so I know you will always act fairly and uphold the virtues of courage and decency, and make not only your own ship proud, but us too, here on your new home, the worldship Chastity!’

Hector stands at the back, smiling at the applause from the families of the young officers selected to be part of the Chastity police’s scheme to help Asian officers, and he watches on as each of those young officers heads up onto the stage to shake hands with Captain Fei Hung-Shu and have their holo picture taken.

Constable Po Lee goes up next to shake Fei’s hand, still hardly believing that a toxic dinner party with Zhang Woo and his awful family led to this event. She grins widely for the photographer while her family applaud within their holographic projection.

The quiet man waits, and when the event draws to a close and the young Asian officers are milling about, he clocks Captain Hung-Shu heading off through a security door and follows after her.

‘Captain?’ he calls in that polite way of his.

She turns to frown with her security officers stepping in close from the sides. ‘Who are you? And how did you get through that door?’ Fei asks.

‘Do you know who I work for?’ Hector asks politely. Something in his eyes. In his tone and in his words makes Fei grunt softly as she nods to a side room and tells her security guards to wait. She slips inside with Hector and listens to the instruction, and a few minutes later, Hector heads back to the emergency-use airlock with a few minutes taken to cheer at Canada levelling the score against the Aussies.

* * *

Hector’s shuttle decouples and flies on as Sam Gablinski clocks it dropping down to swoosh under the vast form of the worldship Chastity. His eyes lock on the white shape just visible to the naked eye, and he wonders, in that way of his, what the shuttle had been doing there.

He wonders who is on it and what business they had, and for a moment he lets his imagination run wild and conjures images of assassins slipping through emergency airlocks to swiftly dispatch someone before fleeing as though they were never there.

Then he remembers he’s caught up in the middle of a huge conspiracy himself and such an assassin might be dispatched to kill him.

Crikey. He should start doing the press-ups again to fight them off, because, you know, he’d be a Fleet Karate-Kung-Fu-Krav-Maga-Super-Bearded-Baggy-Short-Wearing-Crossfit-Superstar by then.

Or maybe he should get a Taser pistol and carry it in a cool shoulder harness like in the spy movies starring Johan Johans. He’d be like Sterling Archer. Smooth. Witty. Dangerous, and mostly drunk.

Then, a few seconds later, his imagination eases back and he sighs gently while letting his eyes drift over the fleet from the dark bridge of the worldship Humility.

It’s late. He should go home, but it will be weird again. They’ll get into the tube and cuddle and Yasmine might start moving his hands over her body to get him horny before she goes cold and stiff, and her eyes go vacant. Like there’s nothing inside of her.

It’s a tricky thing for sure. Sam understands that something as horrific as rape can leave someone in a terrible state of trauma. It’s all over the news with the Stairwell Rapists thing going on, and there’s been no shortage of experts on the news channels telling the fleet what the victims are going through.

But that just adds to the confusion for Sam, because if Yasmine is in trauma, then why doesn’t she try and fix it? Why does she refuse to talk about it? And why does she grind into him until he’s so horny he could burst? He’d rather not do anything at all because getting turned on and off is jarring.

So he does what a lot of people do when they’re exposed to a complexity of human behaviour that is too difficult to understand; he avoids it and hopes it’ll get better on its own, while knowing deep down that it won’t, while still hoping that it will.

He tuts softly, feeling guilty and confused and all sorts of things, when his band vibrates with an incoming message.

Yasmine

Hey, you still up top? I’m home. Come for cuddles?

What does that mean? Cuddles? Like just cuddles or another start-stop petting session? Sam loves a cuddle. Who doesn’t love a cuddle? Maybe he should try and talk to her about it all, but he doesn’t know what to say, so instead he avoids it once again.

Sam

Just finishing up. Be back soon. Go sleep and I’ll join you xxx

He watches the message screen indicting that she’s writing a reply, and a long one too from the looks of it.

Yasmine

K. night xxx

How the bloody hell did it take her so long to write that? He swipes it away, thinking he should go home, but all thoughts of Yasmine disappear from his mind, as does everything else, because what he sees is the entire fleet changing direction.

It makes his heart thud in his chest with a thrill at seeing every aft burner glowing blue and bright at the same time. Every ship. From the furthest ones his naked eye can just about see, to the Ark and the others, ranging from mid-distance to closer. Dozens and dozens of shining blue orbs glaring bright and obvious.

What a thing to behold. He’s seen it before of course. Every nerd has. Such things are viewed online all the time, but not like this, not live and with his naked eyes through a window.

Then he realises that his own ship will be changing course too and he places a hand on the window and focuses to try and feel the alteration through the ship around him, through the floor or walls.

But of course he can’t.

Nobody can.

The ships are built in such a way that they can turn, up to a certain degree, without a thing being felt by the passengers.

But still. It’s happening now and he can’t help but grin at the way the aft burners flare on and off, so that they are effectively thrusting upwards in relation to his current human perspective. Not that space has an up or down, but if they were on a linear route, like an aircraft for instance, then they would indeed be manoeuvring to go higher.

He then wonders what it is they are trying to avoid and swipes his system to bring up Navi-Read, the open-source free-to-use program that reads all the navigational codes released by the mainframe on the Ark. Every turn and alteration creates a code which is then released and put into the program so that nerds and geeks all over the fleet can see why it happened. Nearly all turns or alterations are to avoid something ahead of them, picked up on the long-, medium-, or even the short-range sensors. Meteor showers. Asteroids. Comets. Bits of ancient moons and planets and space-debris that collided in an ever-expanding universe filled with the gravitational pull of super black holes. Space isn’t empty and it’s not a void at all – it’s just that in relation to the tiny human perspective it seems that way.

He punches in with a thrill that he might be the first geek to see why the fleet is turning, while also seeing them actually turn for real.

Except they aren’t turning at all – because there’s no code in the program, which can’t be right because they are most definitely changing direction right now. Or at least they were, because when he looks out of the window again the burners are no longer glowing.

He checks again, but there really aren’t any new codes in the system. He thinks maybe there’s a delay and the code will come after the turn has been completed, but that never happens – if anything, they sometimes put the code out in advance so nerds and geeks can watch it live. Just like they used to stay up and watch rockets being launched into space back on Earth.

But no.

No new code.

No advance code.

No anything.

Now why would that happen?

His band vibrates. A message coming in.

Yasmine

I missed you today x

That pang of guilt hits again, with a sense that maybe she suspects he is avoiding her.

He sighs, and with a last look to the windows he turns away to head down to Cabin 58, Row G, Level 35 and goes inside to see Yasmine already in the tube.

He undresses and cleans his teeth with a fizzball before slipping in beside her. She murmurs softly and rolls on her side to nestle into his body. He wraps his arms around her. Inhaling her perfume and the scent of her hair. Feeling the warmth of her body. Feeling a rush inside that he has to suppress.

They entwine fingers in the darkness of their cabin and as he sinks down to sleep, she stares out at nothing while hating herself for being unable to have sex with her boyfriend. She can’t even kiss him, or cry, or even talk about it.

What a fucking mess that’s been made even worse by rushing to those scenes and speaking to the victims to help Zhang and the police because she’s Yassy, and the victims are all Elforists, and everyone knows and trusts Yassy. That exposure to the raw aftermath is only making it worse and a tear slides silently over her nose as the fleet flies on.

* * *

While in Cabin 39, Row H, Level 34, Kristi Carter lies gasping on her back with Zhang Woo’s rock-hard body between her legs, the veins in his arms and shoulders standing out as he orgasms. Both of them bathed in sweat. The lighting low. The sex fantastic.

He gradually relaxes and lowers himself to kiss her. Tender. Sweet. Caring. She closes her eyes and kisses him back until eventually he drops to her side and his breathing slows as sleep starts to pull him away.

‘How was work?’ she whispers.

He flicks his eyes open. Sleepy and hardly there. A shrug. A motion from his shoulders. His hand comes over her. Drawing her closer. He doesn’t reply and she turns to face away and take the cuddle from behind as her blue eyes stare into nothing and her mind wonders if she is just here to help him control his sex addiction.

She thinks about Yasmine too, and that question still burns in her mind.

What did Yasmine steal?

What is the code?

She grows sleepy and drifts off, trapped in her own struggles, the same as everyone else.

* * *

Penny’s the same.

Alone in her new cabin on Level 3. A thank you from Helga for everything Penny has done. It’s got a private bathroom. Her own private bathroom. She stands in the doorway marvelling at the unrestricted shower and the luxury fittings and gorgeous soft furnishings while hardly believing this is happening.

Her old cabin was near Abdul’s offices just off the strip in Neon City. Her windows showed the flashing lights of the clubs and she slept to the beat of the music and the dull background crowd noises. She longed to get out. She longed for this.

And now she has it and she feels only panic inside because it’s too fast and it’s too much and it’s too quiet, and she’s more alone now than she was before because at least she had the music and lights and that connection to other people.

She lowers her head in sadness and wonders why Zhang and Yassy and Janey and even Abdul can all find people to be with, and she can’t find anyone, and when that silence becomes too much to bear, she heads back down to her old cabin in Neon City. To the lights and the music and the comfort they bring, and she snuggles into her tube and drifts off, as trapped in her troubles as everyone else.

* * *

Helga’s no different.

She stands at the window in her private quarters, staring out to the distant stars. Knowing one of them must be a lot closer than the others with a planet in orbit around it. A planet capable of sustaining life. Her ship in chaos. The code still in her possession, and still no word from the Six.

Abdul behind her on her bed, lying on his back. A soft UV light glowing from above that brings life to the tapestry of tattoos all over his body. Helga likes seeing them. She likes that he is so very different to everyone else in her world, and while she stares out, so Abdul stares up and he too thinks about the code, and the Six, and the murders of the young men and women that he watched grow up, and he thinks about the rapes and the chaos going on all around them.

But at least the Elfors are free now, and once things start to simmer down, they can start getting all the Elforists registered and moving around the fleet to find jobs.

That will help, and so with at least that tiny glimmer of hope he too starts drifting off to sleep and the fleet flies through the silent void of space.

But then space is never silent.

Nor is it a void.

7

The next day.

The fifth day since Helga took victory and set the Elfors free.

Silence in the walkway outside the café, where the punters sit quietly at tables with steaming bowls of porridge and jam going untouched and beakers of coffee left undrunk.

Every table is filled. Every chair, and those people all stare across to the live news feed showing from a central point on the back wall.

It’s the same at the end tables. Helga and Abdul side by side. Jorgey, Zhang and Colin nearby. Yasmine standing with empty bowls in her hands. Penny, Janey and the others.

All of them staring at the news feed.

All of them listening to Captain Sully Singh giving a live interview to Teddy Fox, the anchor on FleetNews.

‘Captain Singh. Let me get this straight,’ Teddy says. ‘You are saying the Elfors should not have been set free. Is that correct?’

Sully pauses for a micro-second before nodding. ‘Giving instant freedom to such a large and unknown number of people has created a surge of violence, looting, rapes and murders on the Humility that they cannot control. And now Captain Sveinsson wants to register them all and send them out into the fleet to not only spread that violence, but to severely disrupt the labour market. What if the murderers and rapists are given free registration? They can go anywhere. What should have happened is the Humility should have spoken to us first. The other Virtue fleet captains, and together we could have put a plan in place and established a phased release programme with extra resources supplied from our ships to assist them.’

‘Has Captain Sveinsson requested support from you, Captain Singh?’ Teddy asks.

‘No. We have had no communication from Helga since the troubles began and she came out in opposition to Pierre Jefferson.’

Helga stares at the screen remembering how she reached out to the other captains when Pierre threatened her. Sully and Carlos blankly refused all contact. Only Fei offered to help and give Helga refuge on the Chastity.

‘Captain Singh,’ Teddy says. ‘It sounds to me that you not only don’t support the Elfors being set free, but that you don’t support Helga Sveinsson either. Am I hearing that correctly?’

Sully pauses again with a look of fear that he quickly masks. ‘I will always give my support to any elected captain who is acting within the spirit of Fleet Federal Law.’

‘Holy fuck,’ Penny says, echoing the thoughts of everyone else in the walkway.

‘They got to him,’ Abdul whispers, earning a quick nod from Helga.

‘Captain Singh. I’m being told we have another captain joining us this morning,’ Teddy says as the hologram projection splits into three to show Captain Carlos Vanquith looking smart and composed behind his desk.

‘Oh shit,’ Abdul mutters, realising what’s about to come.

‘Captain Vanquith of the worldship Abstinence. Good morning and welcome,’ Teddy says.

‘Good morning, Teddy, and good morning, Captain Singh. Forgive me intruding, but I wanted to add my thoughts to this morning’s debate if I may.’

‘Please. The air is yours,’ Teddy says.

‘I concur wholly with what my honourable colleague Captain Singh has said. The Elfors should never have been given freedom in that way. And let me add this – the Abstinence has employed thousands of Elforists over the years so I know first-hand just how hardworking they are, but those are the registered Elforists, and even I would not warrant the instant release of so many unregistered people into the fleet. And Captain Singh is also right because Helga should have reached out to us. We’ve been trying to make contact through our diplomatic channels and offering assistance, but Helga is refusing all contact with us.’

‘Fucking liars!’ Abdul snaps, standing up to jab a hand at the screen. ‘That isn’t happening.’

‘What they should have done,’ Carlos says, thinking back to the knife at his throat last night, ‘is hold a fair and legal election first, and then seek a mandate of agreement from the fleet to manage the release of the Elfors. But there hasn’t been an election, which means there was no handover of power. That’s why the Humility has lost all control, and I’ve even heard they’re using bouncers as police officers to beat people up.’

‘We’re trained officers from the Ark!’ Clara yells as her team add their voices. ‘We ain’t no bouncers.’

Teddy nods as he listens to Carlos. ‘In your opinions, Captain Vanquith and Captain Singh, and as members of the Virtue fleet, what advice do you give to Helga? Captain Singh?’

‘The first thing is that control must be gained before more lives are lost,’ Sully says. ‘Therefore, my advice would be for the Ark to mandate a temporary Federal takeover of control of the Humility so that professional law enforcement can bring safety to the innocent Humility residents.’

‘Captain Vanquith. I can see you want to add something,’ Teddy says.

‘I do, Teddy. I absolutely agree with Captain Singh, and I would add the fleet should not give registration to the Elforists until such time as fleet leaders can meet, debate and agree a managed and phased programme. And in the meantime, the Humility needs to hold a fair and legal election to choose a captain.’

‘I’m being told we must now end the interviews. Captain Singh. Captain Vanquith, thank you for your time and your very honest views this morning. You have given us all a lot to digest.’

‘Digest my fucking arse!’ a voice calls out. Female. Angry. Helga on her feet as every head snaps from the news feed to her. ‘That is lies,’ she says while jabbing a hand towards Teddy, now muted and silent. ‘Where’s Kristi Carter? I’m going live right now.’

‘I haven’t seen her,’ Yasmine says as they look around and over to Zhang.

‘Hey. Uncool. Leave me out of it,’ he says quickly.

‘Stuff it. Penny, put a call into FleetNews. You can film me.’

‘Shouldn’t we go to your office?’ Penny asks, thinking Helga could do with some make-up and quick styling before going live.

‘No! We’ll do it right here. I have nothing to hide,’ Helga snaps and less than a minute later Teddy Fox nods off-camera before turning back to his viewers.

‘Okay, I’m being told we have Captain Helga Sveinsson live on a call directly from the worldship Humility. Captain Sveinsson? Are you there?’

The feed from Penny connects as the people in the walkway look from Helga in real life to Helga’s 3-D virtual form next to Teddy Fox.

‘Captain Sveinsson. Good morning and welcome.’

‘Good morning, Teddy. A pleasure to see you and do forgive my directness but please may I say I have never heard such nonsense in my life! We have had no offers of assistance from any ship in the fleet. And not from either Captain Vanquith or Captain Singh. Both of whom I admire tremendously, but both of whom are wholly and completely wrong!’

‘Fuck!’ Penny mouths as even Abdul blinks at Helga’s directness.

‘Holding thousands, or tens of thousands, of people locked in squalor to suffer starvation and degradation was wrong. Plain and simple, and I reached a point where I refused to be a part of that. Freeing the Elfors was the right thing to do.’

‘But your ship is in chaos, Captain,’ Teddy says calmly. Countering the rush of her words in his deeply male patronising voice, in such a way as to make her look shrill and stupid. And with that Helga realises the Six don’t just own Sully and Carlos, they have FleetNews too. ‘Young people are being murdered. Women are being raped. Stores are being looted. People are being robbed. Shuttles are being refused docking rights. The police aren’t functioning and even now you are having to borrow someone’s wristband to contact us from outside a café? Is that what a controlled ship looks like? And let me also ask this: exactly when will you be holding that fair and legal election?’

It starts to look like a shuttle wreck in slow motion; Helga live on air without expertly applied make-up and without expertly styled hair and wearing a simple plain black top and trousers, in a café with Elforists staring on in the background.

‘You are painting a picture that is far worse than actual reality,’ Helga says.

‘Then why aren’t you allowing passenger shuttles to dock?’ Teddy immediately asks. ‘If your ship is under control then why not allow people to visit the famous Neon City and the famous retail zone? Is it because the retail zone has been on lockdown since the riots? Or are you afraid they’ll be robbed, or murdered, or raped?’

‘Fucking puta,’ Yasmine says at the patronising tone of the news anchor. The way the interview is going reminds her of the time when she and Sun got into the fight and the cops on the Ark spoke to them like shit simply because they were Elforists and female. That thought leads to another, and she steps away to make an urgent call. ‘Hi. Er, I’m not sure you’ll remember me . . .’ she says when the call is answered.

A short explanation. A few words shared. The call ends and Yasmine looks back to Helga trying to fend off the disgusting smears being thrown at her by Teddy Fox, who looks educated, intelligent, and professional under his studio lights.

‘Vice-Captain Sveinsson. Ah, forgive me, force of habit seeing as there hasn’t been a fair election. I meant Acting Captain Sveinsson,’ Teddy says with a touch of a smirk. ‘You seriously expect the fleet to give instant registration to thousands of people with no questions asked? Many of whom are right now committing rapes and murders.’

‘There is no evidence to suggest all of the violence is being committed by Elforists.’

‘Sure. But I think we all know the most likely culprits. Law-abiding residents whose ancestors paid for passage, or freeloaders used to stealing and killing? Excuse me, I’m being told we have another caller for this morning’s spirited debate. Who is it?’ Teddy asks in a lower voice to his producer. ‘Okay! Well now. This is a surprise for the viewers at home because we have the fleet’s pre-eminent left-wing liberal human rights campaigner Marianne Kruger joining us. Welcome, Marianne.’

Marianne’s self-recorded feed joins those of Teddy and Helga, with Marianne smiling widely into the camera. ‘Teddy! That was, without doubt, the slimiest, most patronising interview I have ever heard, and your introduction of me as a liberal left-winger was surely not to taint the viewers’ opinion of me, was it? And I tell you why I ask, Teddy, because it would be illegal to do that under the fleet’s code of conduct for journalists. And you’re wrong on something else, Teddy. I’m not a campaigner. I’m a lawyer. I am a practising human rights lawyer in addition to being a firm believer in fair living conditions for every human soul in this fleet. It was right that the Elfors were freed, and I, along with millions of others, applaud Helga Sveinsson’s courage to stand up and do what needed to be done!’

‘Murder. Rape. Looting. Passenger shuttles refused entry. Pierre Jefferson dead in suspicious circumstances,’ Teddy reels off with what he hopes is a suave retort, but he looks rattled by Marianne Kruger’s blistering onslaught as Helga wonders how the hell she got dragged into it.

‘Teddy! Teddy!’ Marianne says with a smile of vicious humour. ‘The Bustees had four murders last month. The Hutongs are reporting two murders, one rape and one attempted murder. The Vladivostok has had two murders just this week. The British ship refuses to give its crime numbers over, as do many other ships. No. I haven’t finished, Teddy. Even the Ark has had a murder and two serious assaults last week. And it is absolutely right for Captain Sveinsson to block passenger shuttles until full control has been gained.’

‘So you admit the Humility is out of control!’ Teddy calls out.

‘Of course it is! The Elfors have been locked in since the fleet set out. This was always going to happen, and I admire Captain Sveinsson for assuming responsibility and taking this mammoth task on without any support being offered by the fleet! And you teaming up with Captain Singh and Captain Vanquith in that sickening patriarchal display of male grooming doesn’t fool anyone in this fleet. I support Helga Sveinsson, and not only that but I will be leading her legal team to gain registration for every single Elforist on board that ship!’

Helga looks at Abdul who shrugs to say he didn’t do this. She looks to Penny who shakes her head. Then to Janey looking as shocked as everyone else, and as she turns back to the camera, Helga spots Yasmine and Sun high-fiving and realises who just brought Marianne Kruger into the fight.

‘And let me give you another point of view,’ Marianne says, over Teddy trying to shout her down. ‘While you’re looking particularly fine and groomed behind your desk this morning, Teddy. And while Captain Singh and Captain Vanquith also looked great behind their big phallic desks with their make-up and hair done, Captain Sveinsson is down on the ground eating with her people and leading from the front. That is what leadership looks like, and that’s exactly what this fleet needs right now.’

Teddy goes to retort but stops with his head cocked, clearly listening to someone in his ear as another smirk grows on his face. ‘I’m being told we have another guest joining us this morning,’ he says as another feed blooms up. ‘Captain Fei Hung-Shu from the worldship Chastity. Good morning and welcome, Captain Hung-Shu, and may I just say great game last night. I was rooting for the Canadians to get that win.’

‘Good morning, Teddy,’ Fei says with a tight smile. ‘Thank you for having me.’

‘Captain Hung-Shu, you are the other Virtue fleet captain and surely you must have a view on this absolute farce,’ Teddy says, smiling into the camera as Helga withers inside, realising the Six have got to Fei too. Abdul senses it, his face darkening. Penny the same. All of them staring and waiting for Fei to launch her broadside at the Humility.

In her office behind her desk, Fei hesitates, her dark eyes staring into the lens as she thinks back to the instructions given by the quiet man last night. A man who represents a force unequalled in the fleet, but the foremost thought in her mind is what she said to the young police officers during their attestation, about courage and decency and doing the right thing. ‘My view is that it was right for Captain Sveinsson to stand against Pierre Jefferson, and my view is that it was right to free the Elfors.’

‘Yes!’ Abdul says, clenching his fist as the gleam steals into Helga’s eyes and Teddy blinks as though suddenly unsure.

‘What’s up, Teddy? Wasn’t what you were expecting?’ Marianne asks with a smile.

Fei clears her throat and leans in a little. ‘My wife Armani is half Elfor, and we are both passionate about freedom and living without tyranny, and we want our first child to be able to visit Armani’s family in the Elfors and see their heritage. Therefore, I hereby pledge my support to Captain Sveinsson and the people on the worldship Humility. The worldship Chastity stands with the Elfors. We stand with Captain Sveinsson.’

The interview ends with hits taken and damage caused from the barrage delivered by Teddy, Carlos and Singh, but the retaliation was swift and bold with Helga refusing to be cowed and joined by the remarkable Marianne Kruger coming in from the flanks to deliver her own bruising fusillade, while Fei Hung-Shu brought up the rear in a blistering double-cross, and as the feeds cut off and the adrenaline starts to wane, Helga knows those first few blows were only the beginning of the war.

But at least she’s not alone, and what’s more, it’s clear the Six don’t own everyone.

8

Cabin 39. Row H, Level 34, where Kristi Carter stands with a beaker of coffee in hand, her third already just this morning, turning slowly to view the many feeds open around her.

It’s that nagging in the back of her head about the porridge party and Mahatma Goudier. Something else was going on, and so after Zhang left for work, and after making coffee and going through the porridge party footage, and while ignoring the constant calls from Kasim her studio manager, Kristi started searching for recorded footage of the concert from Confucius Square.

She found it easily, because not only was it recorded professionally and broadcast live to the fleet, thousands of the people who attended also streamed the live event.

Kristi found the performances and scrubbed forward through the songs, then dipped in and out of the parts where Chi-Chi was rooting for Helga on the Humility and the riots were being fed into the square, most of it recorded and broadcast by Kristi on the night.

She refreshed her mind about the whole of it, and the sequences of events as they happened, and, as any professional journalist would, she didn’t just rely on one feed but rather looked at lots of feeds from both pro and amateur recordings that all showed the same synchronicity of events – right up until the point Yasmine was broadcast on the screens and ended up in the square.

Kristi saw it happen. Albeit she was very busy with events on the Humility at the time, she saw Yasmine on the screens and she saw Yasmine in the square.

Except that footage doesn’t appear.

Not anywhere.

Not from any source.

There is no footage, either professionally captured or captured from concert attendees, showing either Yasmine on the screens or Yasmine in the square.

However, what does exist is lots of footage showing the screens blurred out, and the stage too where Yasmine would have been standing. It’s just blurred.

She looked first at the feed broadcast from the Beijing and figured it to have been corrupted in transmission, which prompted her to access her own company’s archive, that being FleetNewsCast.

But that was the same.

Now her hands blur as she swipes to open feeds from other news channels showing the event, but they’re the same.

The screens blurred out. The stage blurred out.

Another swipe and she gets into FleetBook and searches #Chi-ChiConcert and clocks the thousands of results. All of them showing the songs and routines and Pretty Boy’s Beaky and Tiny Beaker, but the second the big screens get taken over by whatever’s going on, all the screens become blurred.

She checks footage recorded on all three sides of the square used by attendees, and it’s the same thing.

But there’s something else too.

The audio has also been overlaid, and every piece of footage showing those blurred screens and the blurred stage only has the same generic background crowd noise as audio files. There’s nothing else. No vocals. No human speech. No words being used by Yasmine or anyone else.

Blurred images and white noise.

It triggers Kristi as she opens more and more feeds until she’s surrounded on all sides by holo feeds playing footage from the floor to the ceiling. Stacked and racked and back to back. But no Yasmine. Not one glimpse of her.

‘How the fuck?’ she says as a creeping sense of horror crawls up her spine.

Yasmine was there. That happened. Kristi saw it. But now Yasmine is not there. The first question is: why would Yasmine be removed like that?

To which Kristi does not have the answer.

And so she moves onto the second question – who the heck would remove Yasmine from every single piece of footage in existence?

And the answer is obvious, because it would have to be someone with a serious level of skill at hacking and creating programs, which just so happens to be the exact skill Yasmine’s boyfriend has: Pretty Boy Sam.

That answers question two. Pretty Boy removed all of Yasmine’s footage.

Which goes back to question one.

Why remove all of Yasmine’s footage?

And again, Kristi does not have the answer. But she does know Yasmine stole something. And she does know Yasmine fled to the Beijing with Pretty Boy, and she does know Zhang was sent on a mission to the Beijing.

And all of that must be connected, except Helga ain’t talking, and Zhang doesn’t talk, not even about his day or what flavour synth roll he had for lunch. The man is a fucking machine. Admittedly, he does seem very dedicated to his job, and admittedly he has moaned a lot about Colin fucking Sanders crawling all over my damn ass. The guy won’t even let me go off-duty unless I’ve finished every report . . . And he reads them. The guy reads them and makes me wait until he’s finished.

But that’s it.

Nor can Kristi walk up to Yasmine and ask her. Not without walking away with a broken nose, because Yasmine really is the most Elfor person Kristi has ever met.

So how then?

Penny? Kristi and Penny are pals, but Penny is smart. She’s been playing the game for a long time and she’s now super-close with Helga.

No. Not Penny.

Janey?

Janey is probably the weakest link in that group. She’s massively insecure and seems desperate to justify herself, but Janey panics if Kristi even asks her the time.

No. Not Janey either then. Not Sven. Not Abdul. Not Helga.

Sam would be a good bet. But he’s nowhere to be seen, and something feels wrong about that. Like he’s a non-combatant and therefore using him feels somehow dirty.

She could work on Zhang, but that’s a guy as adept at using silence for a weapon as his own fists.

Sun Sing is pretty close to Yasmine now. She’s always at the café, but as much as Sun gobs off and makes outrageous comments, she’s also a mini-me Yasmine and is very street smart.

‘Come on,’ Kristi mutters to herself, trying to think who to work on. Who to cultivate. Who to groom and get the answers from.

She snaps in frustration and swipes her band to kill every feed at once, plunging the cabin into silence.

A silence broken by her band still ringing with an incoming call.

‘What?!’ she snaps as Kasim’s angry face blooms up.

‘Where the fuck are you?’ he demands.

‘Here. Fuck off,’ she says, reaching out to kill the feed.

‘Don’t you dare, Kristi Carter! We’ve got Carlos Vanquith and Sully Singh coming out against Helga and Fei Hung-Shu and Marianne mother-fucking Kruger coming out in support of her. It’s a war, Kristi! It’s a damn fleet war!’

‘It’s not a war. It’s a seedy load of shit,’ Kristi mutters, still seething. Still fuming.

‘Whatever. Ratings are sky high,’ Kasim says with a wink and a grin. ‘Bonus city, baby!’ he calls out, making her snort a reluctant laugh. ‘There she is. There’s my Kristi Carter. Now get that ass up to the café and get interviewing. And who said you can wear a sports bra?’

‘Kasim. Really?’

‘Kristi. I’m gay. Trust me. You? Me? Urgh. No way.’

‘You’re not gay, Kasim. You only say that so I don’t sue you for sexual harassment.’

Kasim pauses to pull a mock serious face while tilting his head over. ‘I am so gay, Kristi Carter. Whatever. Keep the sports bra on then. But that didn’t come from me. Now go get ’em, Tiger. RARRRRRR!’

He claws the air and cuts out as she sags on the spot and takes her beaker back to the new coffee machine and heads out to walk to the stairs while feeling flat and dejected and struggling to summon the energy needed to get through another day on the Worldshit Clusterfuck.

And it’s no different when she arrives at the café either. A busy place. A bustling place. A place full of energy and vibrancy.

‘Where were you?’ Penny asks. ‘You could have gone live with Helga!’

Kristi shrugs and turns to head inside the café. To the counter to buy a bowl of porridge and jam as the police comms on the cops outside all blurt to life with an incoming emergency. Icons flashing up. Red and green. The standard police icon for the officer to hit to say they are responding.

She steps back to the door, hearing some of the transmission. Another murder. Another stabbing. Another brawl in progress.

The cops run. Abdul too, sprinting from the back with Jorgey, Zhang and Colin.

A feeling of apathy inside. A feeling that she really doesn’t want to go and film another tragic murder of another tragic young person and interview mouth-frothers, and family members struggling to breathe from the grief and panic.

A moment in time when it feels like everyone else is moving and she’s the only static object in the whole universe. She wants porridge. She wants peace.

But she has to go.

She has to.

It’s her job – and so with a deep breath, she sets off running, and as she spots Yasmine running ahead with the pack and swipes to go live to the fleet, she again wonders where Pretty Boy is.

* * *

‘Folks! This is Kristi Carter live on . . . you know what? You know where I am. I’m stuck here. There’s no shuttles. Whatever. There’s been another stabbing . . . We’re just getting close now . . .’

Sam mutes the transmission and wonders why Kristi’s boobs don’t bounce when she runs anymore. They always used to. He’s not a pervert by any degree, but it was famous in the fleet. Kristi’s boobs always bounced when she ran. There’s whole sites dedicated to the slow-mo Kristi Carter boob bounce.

He guesses she got a sports bra and then wonders why she never got one before now, then he wonders if boobs hurt when they bounce when women run, and such is his need to know, he spends the next ten minutes running searches to understand that yes, boobs can indeed hurt when women run.

And with that knowledge now firmly lodged into his brain he goes back to staring out of the window on the bridge while taking his mind back to how the shitty poo can a whole fleet make a significant alteration of course and there not be a new navi-code released by the mainframe on the Ark.

Cos that’s what happened.

Sam was here. He saw the aft burners going on and off, but there’s still no navi-code saying why.

Well. That’s not strictly true because there was a new code released that was put into Navi-Read which duly translated it to say the whole fleet undertook a less than one-degree course alteration to avoid a possible radiation cloud ahead of them.

Which is the most boring, bog-standard, same-as-every-other navi-code that is always released.

But the fleet didn’t make a less than one-degree turn to the side.

The fleet flew upwards. Yes, Sam knows there’s no up or down, but it bloody went up. He saw it, but there’s literally no evidence of that change.

It’s not like he can pull up a GPS device and say hey! We’ve drifted off course, because GPS devices worked from satellites orbiting Earth, and they’re not on Earth, they’re in space on ships forever moving into uncharted territory where there’s literally nothing to mark course or alteration or motion against.

And you know what?

That’s really bloody annoying.

Sam hates not knowing things. He’s a nerd. A geek. A full-on dues-paid techy-bore.

He has to know.

But then it also makes him think about THAT OTHER CODE.

You know. The one he’s not allowed to mention, or even think about. THAT CODE.

Which is for another planet.

Which brings his mind to the natural question: did the secret people he’s not allowed to know about just move the whole fleet towards the new planet?

But then he’s not allowed to ask. Or know. Or think about it.

Which means he’s a bit buggered, because the only way he could find out would be by putting the code Yasmine stole into Navi-Read – and then alert literally every single other person in the fleet about the new planet, which he’s pretty sure he’s also not allowed to do.

But, as the famous actor once said, get to the chopper! Which doesn’t help one bit, and Sam has no idea why he even thought about it. But it gets him thinking about movies, and what would Johan Johans do if he was playing Sam in an awesome movie?

Eh?

There’s a thought.

Well. For a start, he’d definitely do some press-ups. Then after that he’d set about rewriting the whole Navi-Read program on a private encrypted system so he could put the code in and see what it says.

But that wouldn’t be a very exciting movie because Navi-Read has been in existence since the fleet set out – which means it’s over one hundred and twenty years of file-sharing awesomeness written by generations of geeks and nerds and so big it would literally take weeks.

Maybe even months.

But then movies just show stuff like that in montage and display the passage of time by having the actor grow a beard.

Right.

That’s it then.

He drops down to do five press-ups and start the beard growing – and then amazes himself by doing eight press-ups in one go.

‘Well hello mister buff! Check out the gun show,’ he says while flexing up and thinking that in no time at all he’ll look just like Zhang Woo.

All dark and brooding.

* * *

Zhang Woo is dark and brooding, but then he’s got every right to be. Especially right now as he squats on his haunches next to the body of Bitch-Faced Angie. A sex worker from the main strip.

Zhang has been to every murder scene since this began, but as awful and tragic and brutal as they all were, they weren’t like this – because Zhang knew Bitch-Faced Angie.

They had a night. A long time ago. Zhang was low. Drinking hard. She found him at a bar. He knew she was called Bitch-Faced Angie because she had the foulest-looking natural expression of anyone he’d ever seen. It was like she was permanently seething.

Then she would smile and her whole character would transform. Zhang said they should have called her Two-Faces Angie, but Angie said there was already a Two-Faced Angie. Zhang asked if the other woman was called two-faced because she was so deceitful. Angie said why else would she be called Two-Faced Angie? Sheesh hun, you sure you’re a detective?

It wasn’t a very funny comment, but the way she said it set Zhang off. But then he was a little bit drunk and a little bit sad and a little bit vulnerable.

They left the club and went back to hers. Then, in the morning, he had an awkward five minutes of not knowing if they’d had sex because she’d wanted to, or because she was a hooker.

She let him squirm for a little while then laughed it off and told him to buy her breakfast.

Then life rolled on. Like it does, but now and then they’d cross paths and smile and nod and remember that night they had.

Now she’s dead and her resting bitch-face just looks slack and dead and cold and empty.

‘What you got?’ Colin asks, striding in from the other end of the alley.

‘Angie Putanski,’ Zhang says without taking his eyes off her.

‘Bitch-Faced Angie?’

Zhang nods. ‘Multiple stab wounds. Torso. Chest. Small thin blade.’

‘Lot of blood,’ Colin says after looking around.

Zhang grunts and finally stands up to look from the body of Angie to the blood pooled around her that’s also splashed up the walls. Something about it all. Something about the scene. The stabbings. The blood.

‘What?’ Colin asks, seeing Zhang’s expression.

Zhang shrugs, not sure himself. ‘What’s the other one like?’ he asks.

‘Single stab wound to the chest,’ Colin says with a nod down the alley to the other body. ‘Brandon Schu. Lives on 18.’

‘You called Phil for forensics?’ Zhang asks.

‘Yeah, he called Phil for forensics,’ Phil says, walking up behind them. ‘And I said I wasn’t gonna deploy. I said this is the Elfors and cops ain’t allowed in the Elfors.’

‘And I said you’ll be safe, Phil. It’s morning. Neon’s empty,’ Colin fires back.

‘Hey. Regs state—’

‘I don’t give a shit about regs, Phil! Do your job. I’m going up to brief the captain.’

‘I bet he regrets taking the job now,’ Phil mutters as Colin strides off. ‘Anyway. What we got? Dead hooker huh? Damn, that’s one angry-looking bitch. Who’d pay that for a fuck?’

Zhang bites the rage down. ‘I want this holographed,’ he orders as he turns to walk off.

‘I ain’t holographing this shit. I’m doing swabs and DNA then I’m out of here. You want it holographed, you fucking holograph it.’

‘I’m gonna put you through that fucking wall in a minute! Holograph the fucking scene!’

‘Hey!’ Colin shouts, darting back to see Zhang prodding Phil into a wall.

‘Zhangy, what you doing?’ Clara calls, rushing past Colin.

‘He’s a fucking lunatic!’ Phil says, slapping Zhang’s hand away, Zhang looking ready to go for him and Clara rushing forward to yank Zhang away.

‘Do your fucking job and holograph the scene!’

‘I ain’t holographing some nasty old dead hooker in a fucking alley!’

‘I knew her you prick!’ Zhang snaps, trying to get past Clara. ‘Her name is Angie!’

‘Yeah? You fucked her too, Zhangy?’ Phil calls.

‘Enough!’ Colin shouts, seeing the rage flashing in Zhang’s eyes as he refuses to listen. ‘Clara. Get him out of here.’

‘Come on now, honey. Don’t let this get ugly,’ Clara says, using her body to push Zhang down the alley.

‘That fucking guy!’ Phil says, shaking his head. ‘He needs suspending. He shouldn’t be working.’

‘Yeah. Well. I’m a bit short on cops right now,’ Colin says. ‘Anyway. Holograph the scene.’

‘Sure. Hey, what? No!’ Phil starts to say, but Colin walks off while Zhang gets forced along the alley to the other body.

‘He’s a prick!’ Zhang says.

‘Phil’s just rattled, same as we all are,’ Clara says.

‘What’s he got to be rattled about?’ Zhang snaps.

‘Maybe swabbing all these dead kids getting stabbed?’ Clara says in a tone that makes Zhang finally look at her. ‘We all got feelings, Zhang. We all struggling with this shit.’

‘You calmed down?’ Colin asks, striding past him with a look.

‘I said I’m calm!’ Zhang snaps, angry at himself. Angry at everything, at the deaths, and he glares down at the body of Brandon Schu and another loss of life.

But Colin was right, because Schu died from a single stab wound, and that blade is still stuck in his chest. A nasty-looking Elfor Shank. The name given for a knife made in the Elfors. Metal shards with taped ends to grip.

Schu was the same as the others. But Angie’s murder seemed different. More frenzied. More angry.

He walks off and the troubles keep coming as the notification comes in of another rape overnight.

* * *

‘She came in and asked for meds,’ Yolo Sing says as the cops and others all rush to the same unit at the back of Neon City that the Russian doctor used to own. The Russian doctor Yasmine went to for help. The doctor who groped her. She punched him. He fell and hit his head and died. Yasmine stole his meds. Dmitri found out and used that as an excuse to attack her in Neon City when she was running and hiding with Sam.

That same unit was just bought by Abdul and turned into a dispensary for Yolo Sing who couldn’t stay on the Beijing or Loud Leo Lin would have killed her.

Now they gather. Those few trying to stop the ship from tearing itself apart. Zhang and Colin. Yassy, Sun, Abdul and Penny from the café who all rushed down when Yolo called them to say she was cleaning up when a girl knocked the door and asked for meds to get rid of babies.

‘She was scared. She said she had sex last night but she does not want babies. I said to her I am not ready yet. The unit isn’t ready. But she looked so sad, and I knew I had some meds. I mean. I’m not licensed yet, but I said she could get something. Then I saw the marks on her wrists, and I asked her what happened, and she started crying. She said she was on the stairwell going home to Level 39. Two men grabbed her from behind. They put a bag over her head and took her somewhere and raped her.’

* * *

‘That was all we could get,’ Colin says later at a briefing in the back of the café, the police station still being closed and Level 1 still being cleared of listening devices.

‘And the murders?’ Helga asks. Seeing them shake their heads. Colin, Zhang and Jorgey.

‘We got nothing,’ Zhang says.

‘It’s nine murders in five days,’ Helga says.

‘And three rapes,’ Jorgey adds as they fall to silence. Not knowing what to say. Not knowing what to do with increasing acts of looting, brawls and lawlessness.

‘Helga has bitten off more than she can chew! It’s obvious she has zero control and zero respect from anybody!’

They glance over to the news feed and Mikael Yelstin, a former captain of the WS Vladivostok, giving a live interview.

‘Freeing the Elfors was a mistake. Not holding the election was a mistake. And now those mistakes are costing lives, and that situation will only get worse!’

Yelstin isn’t the only one saying it either. Every feed shows another interview from another captain or vice-captain, or former captain, or former senior politician, or expert in everything from fleet law to civil rights.

All of them saying the same thing.

‘Helga has no control!’

‘The fleet cannot let the Elforists off the Humility.’

‘The fleet must act before more people die.’

‘My strongest advice is for the fleet to forcibly board the Humility with enough Federal officers to gain control and ensure a fair election.’

‘There’s no balanced views,’ Penny says with an expression of pure frustration. ‘The news networks have to show impartiality! They’re not putting other people on air to say they support us or the Elfors.’

‘Marianne is threatening them with legal action,’ Abdul says, then shrugs. ‘They’ll apologise and come up with some bullshit, but the damage is being done.’

‘Well. You lot need to do something,’ Yasmine says. Nearby but not with them. Not at the table. Not one of the circle. But still close enough to hear and give her views. They all look at her. At that dark energy in her eyes. ‘Don’t be weak. We’re Elforists.’

‘I’m not,’ Jorgey says. ‘And neither is Captain Sveinsson.’

‘Yeah, right. Helga’s more Elforist than I am,’ Yasmine says with a snort as she walks off.

‘Was that a compliment?’ Helga asks with a gentle frown at the others. ‘It sounded like a compliment, but I’m never completely sure with Yasmine.’

‘Nobody is,’ Penny says.

Helga nods and stares after Yasmine then over to the news reports showing more men expressing outrage at Helga’s utter incompetence. The Six at work. The Six flexing their muscles with a show of power.

Look what we can do.

See who we control.

And Helga knows they’ll keep that pressure on until she’s begging them to take the code.

But she also knows Yasmine is right and that right now, they do look weak. But how do they stop it? How do they fix it?’

A vibration on her wrist. An incoming message. She swipes to read it.

Unknown Sender

We need to talk. FHS

An unknown sender using an unregistered band. But Helga knows instantly who it is. FHS – Fei Hung-Shu.

Helga heads up to the bridge where she finds Sam in the captain’s chair with a dozen or so screens open, glowing lines of code hanging in the air and Abdul nearby, dozing with his feet on a desk.

‘Don’t get up,’ she remarks drily. ‘Sam, is my band secure to send messages?’

‘It’s probably the yellow one.’

‘Sorry, what?’ Helga asks.

‘What?’ Sam asks, blinking at her.

‘Right. Let’s just move on shall we. Sam, is my band secure to send messages?’

He blinks again, his brain shifting from his current thought process to the one Helga requires. ‘Hmmm. Maybe I should check it,’ he says with a frown.

‘Okay. Well, before you do that, send a secure message to this sender telling them to go to their bridge and to respond to you.’

Sam sends the message from his protected system while Abdul looks at the screens and lines of code hanging in the air around them.

‘What’s all this for?’ Abdul asks.

‘I’m trying to figure out how to write a program that will copy another program without my needing to rewrite the whole thing,’ Sam says as he gets a response on his system.

Unknown Sender

Here.

‘Call the sender,’ Helga says. ‘And close those screens,’ she adds with a nod to his work.

‘But I need them.’

‘Just tidy them away. You can open them again in a moment,’ Helga says.Sam rushes to minimise them while Helga leans over to use his system to make the call. A feed blooms up showing an identical darkened bridge.

‘Hello?’ Helga asks as a face finally comes into view. ‘Fei!’

‘Helga,’ Fei says with a relieved smile. ‘I wanted to be sure it was you.’

‘I think we’re safe up here. I have a cyber security expert who advises this is a secure place to talk.’

Fei listens and cocks her head over. ‘You were bugged?’

‘Every room on Level 1,’ Helga replies.

Fei’s eyebrows lift as she exhales slowly. ‘I’ll have to do mine. Can we borrow your guy? Who is he? Is he listed online?’

‘No. He’s very private,’ Helga says.

‘Even better,’ Fei says. ‘Are you alone?’

‘I’m with Abdul and the cyber security adviser, but he’s fine.’

Fei stays still, showing she doesn’t like the answer without saying a word.

‘Fei. It’s Pretty Boy,’ Helga says, moving the feed to show Sam smiling at Fei.

‘Oh, I see! I guess that makes sense. He’s trusted then?’

‘I’d trust Sam with my life,’ Helga says.

‘Sam is trustworthy,’ Abdul says. ‘And Captain Hung-Shu, how are you?’

‘I’m fine, Abdul. And it’s Fei. You weren’t calling me Captain last time we got drunk together.’

‘You weren’t a captain the last time we got drunk,’ Abdul says.

‘I’m starting to wish I wasn’t a captain now. Helga, I’m so sorry about what happened. Pierre called Sully, Carlos and I and said we had to ignore you. He said they were watching all of us and would know and it was their code.’

Helga nods. Knowing she guessed it right. ‘Did Pierre say who?’

Fei shakes her head. ‘But it’s obvious, and don’t say their name, it sets off an algorithm that can trace the call.’

‘Is that possible?’ Helga asks with a look to Sam.

‘Is what possible?’

A quandary right there, because to be sure Helga needs to tell Sam who the other side is. She glances at Abdul, both of them silently deliberating and concluding the same thing, that they are already trusting Sam with their lives, and he is doing the same with his, and so Abdul nods and leans in to whisper into Sam’s ear.

‘The Six.’

Sam’s eyes go wide for an instant because every nerd and geek on Earth and in the fleet has heard of the Six, or the Illuminati as they were once known. And if someone had said such a thing just a few weeks ago, Sam would have near on wet himself with excitement, but after everything he’s been through it doesn’t have the same impact.

In fact, hearing it doesn’t really have any impact at all.

‘Could they track us like that?’ Abdul asks.

‘My friend used to think so,’ Sam says, thinking about Osmosis and how he’s not really a friend at all now. ‘He thought that saying certain trigger words would flag up the call. He said it went back to the days on Earth and an agency in America called Homeland Security. But I don’t know. I mean, there’s millions of people making calls every day in the fleet. So that’s billions of calls every week at least. I think it’s more likely they would geo-fence and target either certain people or certain locations.’

‘So they could do it then,’ Abdul asks. ‘If they suspected me, or Helga, or Fei, or these locations.’

‘Level 1 on your ships yeah, and you guys definitely,’ Sam says. ‘But not me and not up here. This call is safe.’

‘Well. We don’t need to say their name anyway,’ Helga says.

‘No. But again I am sorry. The only thing I could do was offer you refuge,’ Fei continues.

‘And I appreciated that more than you will ever know,’ Helga replies, smiling into the feed at Fei.

‘I had another visit,’ Fei then says, bringing forth a silence as Helga and Abdul sharpen their focus. ‘This guy got through my security system and walked right up to me and told me to come out against the Elfors and you. He said they were monitoring me, and they would be displeased if I refused, but also they would be very happy and very generous if I did as they requested.’

‘Who was he?’ Abdul asks.

‘Just this guy. Literally the most ordinary-looking man in the fleet. I checked my system after and it didn’t even register his entry onto my ship, or when he bypassed the security doors. He wasn’t there. He was a ghost. But listen,’ Fei adds, leaning closer and lowering her voice despite all the security assurances. ‘Helga, that’s not the only reason I called. There’s a rumour that the Feds are going to board you within a few days. They’re saying you have no control.’

‘The murders aren’t that bad!’ Abdul says.

‘I know! Every ship has murders, but they’re not under the spotlight. You are. And we know who you’re up against and you know what they can do. That’s why so many politicians have gone on record against you today. They’re building support to paint a picture so that when the Feds do board you the fleet thinks it’s a rescue mission to save innocent people, rather than an attempt to control you individually. Helga, listen, I know you’ve been doing this for a long time, but this is another level. You have to get control before they board you. It’s the only leverage you have. Let me send you some officers.’

‘No,’ Helga says quickly. ‘That sends the wrong message.’

‘It shows unity between us,’ Fei says.

‘We need to do this ourselves, Fei. I appreciate your offer, and it may well come to that, but only as a last resort.’

‘Listen to me. You’re at the point of last resort right now.’

‘Excuse me,’ Abdul says, stepping away to take a call from Colin running through the retail zone. He murmurs quickly and cuts the call with a filthy look on his face. ‘Another murder just came in.’

‘Helga. You need support,’ Fei urges. ‘I can have officers there within a few hours.’

Sam watches on as Helga and Abdul share a look and thinks maybe he’s getting a bit better at reading the weird silences and facial expressions people use to communicate because he’s pretty sure they both give tiny shakes of their heads.

‘Thank you, Fei. We’ll keep monitoring it,’ Abdul says as Fei looks ready to argue but instead nods at them both.

‘Just do what you can,’ Fei says as they get ready to end the call. ‘Because if they board your ship, it’ll be someone else telling the press about a terrible accident that caused the deaths of Helga and Abdul.’

9

Six apparitions in a circle. Vapourish and indistinct.

A seventh form. Solid and clear but not within the circle of the others.

‘The interviews are good. I’m not saying they aren’t,’ Venus says. ‘Carlos and Sully deciding to openly condemn Helga was a sound move.’

‘I don’t think they decided,’ Shango says with a quiet snort of humour. ‘I think it was decided for them.’

‘The end result is still the same, is it not?’ Venus asks as Hector detects Venus bridling at Shango’s mocking tone. But then Venus is the most impulsive of the Six, and the quickest to take offence at any perceived slight. ‘However,’ she adds in a more imperious tone, ‘I am still of the opinion that we should have killed them and bribed Fei, which—’

‘Do you have to say killed like that?’ Ares asks with a tone of distaste.

‘We’re on an encrypted call,’ Venus retorts. ‘Negated then. We should have negated Carlos and Sully and offered Fei an inducement to prevent her coming out against us.’

‘Fei didn’t come out against us,’ Lakshmi says. ‘She came out in support of Helga. The two are not the same thing.’

‘Ladies,’ Plutus says with a patronising show of masculine intervention. ‘Let’s not bicker over such trifles when we have bigger things to focus on.’

‘We are not bickering, you misogynistic fool,’ Venus snaps.

‘How dare you call me a fool!’

‘Then don’t patronise me, Albert,’ Venus says.

‘Do not use my name!’ Plutus blurts.

‘No names!’ Ares says as at the same time.

‘What do you not get about this being encrypted, Mikael?’ Venus asks. ‘My point is we looked weak. Fei came out against us. She was told what to say and she defied us.’

‘Venus, we cannot rule everyone by force,’ Lakshmi says. ‘Control is often best established when it is unseen.’

‘Was Fei told what to say?’ Ares asks as he and the others all turn to look at Hector. ‘Hermes, was Fei told what to say?’

‘She was, Ares. Captain Hung-Shu was given the same instructions.’

‘There we go then. She defied us,’ Venus says. ‘We need to deal with her. Agreed?’

‘At the risk of repeating myself,’ Lakshmi says.

‘Then don’t,’ Venus snaps.

‘I advise caution,’ Lakshmi adds.

‘What about Helga?’ Plutus asks, worry creeping into his tone. ‘And Abdul. They’re the problem if you ask me.’

‘Slam their ships together,’ Venus says with a firm nod. ‘The Chastity and the Humility. Tragic accident. Thoughts and prayers.’

‘That is not an option,’ Lakshmi says.

‘Why not? We did it before,’ Shango says. ‘Our grandparents stood in this very room and arranged it.’

‘We’re not killing millions of people,’ Lakshmi says, which makes Hector raise a figurative eyebrow because the one thing the Six have no regard for is the lives of ordinary people. ‘Think of the loss of profits. And having this constant Elfor crisis creates the perfect distraction from the new planet.’

‘I agree with Lakshmi,’ Ares says.

‘There’s a surprise,’ Plutus mutters. ‘But about the new planet. We must be close by now. Surely we must be,’ he adds, with a look to the Jade Emperor.

‘You ask me this too many times,’ the Jade Emperor says and Hector notes that none of the others dare speak over her, or snap back angrily. ‘We all know the same thing. There is a planet. We are aiming towards it.’

‘But when?’ Plutus asks with a show of frustration.

‘To know such a thing is too much power for even one of us,’ Lakshmi says, and Ares nods in agreement while Venus and Shango snort with derision. ‘Our ancestors agreed not to know when until just prior to arrival, because knowing in advance would turn us against each other. So we wait, Plutus. We wait the same as our parents and grandparents did, and the mainframe will tell us when we are close.’

Shango cuts in. ‘If that damned program Sully Singh shoved in the Gagarin detected the planet, then we must be close.’

‘Then why isn’t the mainframe telling us?’ Ares asks.

‘And what about Helga and Abdul?’ Plutus asks. ‘Too many people know. We need to deal with them.’

‘I’ve said how we should deal with them,’ Venus says.

‘We’re not committing genocide,’ Lakshmi says. ‘Or at least not until we’re on the final approach.’

‘But we don’t know when that will be!’ Plutus mutters.

‘Jade Emperor, your thoughts?’ Lakshmi asks.

‘Fei should not have defied us,’ the Jade Emperor says in a flat tone. ‘She will be dealt with. As for Helga and Abdul, I propose to organise an emergency ballot of fleet captains to gain consent for a forceful boarding of the Humility. The ship is in clear turmoil with no functioning police service or controlling authority.’

The others wait for the Jade Emperor to finish the sentence with agreed? Because they are the Six and their power is held equally, and it is not for one member to act without a consensus agreement.

But the Jade Emperor does not add that word and the silence stretches out.

‘I agree,’ Plutus blurts with a rush of words. ‘Good suggestion, Jade Emperor.’

‘Agreed,’ Shango adds with a hesitant tone as the others do the same.

‘It will be done,’ the Jade Emperor says, and then she’s gone.

‘Rude,’ Venus mutters then disappears.

‘Is that it then?’ Plutus asks with a look to the remaining members. Shango blinks out, leaving only Ares and Lakshmi. ‘Right. Well,’ Plutus adds, then he too is gone.

‘She didn’t say agreed,’ Lakshmi murmurs.

‘She did not,’ Ares says as they share a look, and a second later they too blink out, leaving Hector alone and forgotten, but then he is the quiet man, and such is his skill that he goes unseen even amongst the Six.

‘Interesting times,’ he says as his holographic form blinks out from that dark and silent room.

‘They certainly are,’ a voice says in his hotel cabin, making him turn fast, his hand reaching for the knife hidden in the small of his back, but his actions still as he spots a Chinese woman standing nearby, or rather, the holographic form of a Chinese woman.

‘Jade Emperor,’ he says politely, but even he is unable to hide the guarded tone from his voice. ‘How may I serve you?’

‘It is a breach of protocol for me to contact you in such a way, Hector.’

Hector shows no reaction to his real name being used, nor does he reply.

‘But as you said. These are interesting times,’ she adds. Late middle-aged. Neatly styled black hair. An air of business about her. An air of professionalism and quiet contemplation. Sharp eyes, but polite and softly spoken, and it would be easy to forget this woman is the most powerful human being in the fleet.

‘Do I have your service?’ she asks while watching him closely.

‘Of course. I serve the Six,’ he replies, as he senses the scrutiny directed at him. ‘My service is for the Six, Jade Emperor. But the Six is a title to define those in control. If you are in control, then you are the Six and I serve you.’

‘You are no fool, Hector. You can see that Venus is becoming rash and impulsive and using her beauty to encourage Shango to take her side. They are coupling and seeking to strengthen their position of power within the fleet. You can also see that Plutus is scared, and fear is not a sound basis for judgement.’

Hector again shows no reaction, and perhaps that silence gives an agreement of sorts because the Jade Emperor nods almost imperceptibly.

‘We are close, Hector,’ she adds, making his senses sharpen. ‘Now is not the time for mistakes, or impulsive rash behaviour. We have the survival of our species to consider. We must do what must be done. Lakshmi, Ares and I have noted the good work you have done on the Humility. It is appreciated, and we would hope that you will continue your service. But for now, I want you to do another task for me.’

Hector listens as the instruction are given, then a moment later the Jade Emperor is gone, and he stands alone in his hotel cabin thinking over everything that was said.

‘Interesting times,’ he says again, and this time his words hang unanswered as he thinks about what he was told to do.

10

‘A tragic accident? You’re telling me Pierre Jefferson died from a tragic accident at the exact same time that Helga let thousands of Elforists charge up the stairs? I think not!’

‘Former Vice-Captain Ralph Daniels from the WS Chastity, whose current Captain, I am sure you are aware, came out in support of Helga and the Elfors earlier this morning,’ Teddy Fox says with that trademark half-smirk half-knowing smile, just after Helga and Abdul leave Sven’s Eatery to meet with Fei.

Yasmine has heard enough of it. ‘It’s a parade of slimeballs,’ she says, glaring at the news feed. ‘I bet none of those putas ever missed a meal, or had shit thrown on them from someone chucking their slops over a gantry.’

‘You’d be lucky to get shit on in the Hutongs,’ Sun says. ‘That’s how poor we were. Whatever. It’s not competition,’ she tells a few onlookers. ‘But the Hutongs were worse,’ she adds with a wink. ‘Anyway. We going or what?’

‘Yeah definitely,’ Yasmine says, turning away from the feed to lean in through the café door. ‘Sven! I’m heading down to give Yolo a hand with Sun for an hour.’

‘Toodles!’ Sun says with a smile and a wave before rushing after Yasmine out of the café and into the weirdly dark and silent lanes of the retail zone. No adverts shining overhead, and with the stores closed the whole place feels empty and sad and hollow.

‘So?’ Sun asks after another moment, and that one word makes the tight ball of anxiety grow in Yasmine’s gut because she knows what Sun is asking.

‘Is your mom excited about the new store?’ Yasmine asks as though she hasn’t heard.

‘Don’t change the subject. Do you want me to ask you outright? I can ask you outright.’

‘Don’t ask. Seriously. Fuck off.’

‘Have you had sex yet?’

‘No! Just leave it.’

‘I’m not going to leave it. You need to deal with it.’

‘I know! Sun, please.’

They fall silent with Yasmine feeling wretched. ‘Have you even tried?’ Sun asks.

Yasmine nods then shrugs, and wants to tell Sun that she froze up and that she keeps freezing up and that she can’t cry or fuck or talk about it and it’s eating her alive, but she can’t bring it to the surface, and she doesn’t know how to.

Except none of that comes out. Nothing at all.

Sun thinks for a moment. ‘Can I ask my mom if she can give you something?’

‘Like what?’

‘Calm-A-Mind? That might take the edge off.’

‘It makes you dopey.’

‘I just mean when you get into the tube with Sam, you know, so you don’t have a panic attack. But no, actually, that’s a shit idea cos poor Sam will be making sweet love to a dribbling doped-up old woman with grey pubes.’

‘Twat. I don’t have grey pubes.’

A weak joke, but Sun is trying, and Yasmine shoots her a tight smile as they hear a bang followed by the shrill bleating of an alarm.

A few seconds later they round a corner to see the front of the FleetAppleStore stoved in with a bench, and an automated voice blaring out.

Unauthorised Entry!

The Police Are Coming!

‘The police ain’t coming!’ a tall man shouts with a laugh as he glances out through the hole to see Yasmine and Sun. ‘YASSY!’ he yells with spit flying from his lips. ‘We just got into the Apple place.’

‘I can see that,’ Yasmine says, taking a step back as Dooley comes in close.

‘Who’s that then?’ Dooley asks with a nod at Sun.

‘Sun. Mate of mine. This is Dooley. We call him Dooley Spittles,’ Yasmine says as Sun looks at the saliva spraying over Dooley’s lips.

‘What you want anyway? I’ll get it for you,’ Dooley says with an eager smile. ‘You want some speakers? They got them new speakers.’

‘Alright, Yassy?’ another woman asks as she stops next to them and peers inside. ‘Shove out the way, Dooley, and don’t spit on me you dirty prick. You comin’ then or what, Yassy?’

‘Hey, Nelly. Nah, I’m good, ta.’

‘Is that Yasmine?’ someone else calls from inside. A good-looking guy with a nice smile looming out of a dark aisle with his arms full of high-end goods. ‘Yassy! Hey!’

‘Ugly Frank,’ Yasmine says with a nod.

‘What the fuck. He is not ugly,’ Sun says pointedly. ‘And er hi! I’m Sun. Totally new here and totally single.’

‘Yeah. So. Dmitri then?’ Frank asks with his eyes fixed on Yasmine. ‘He’s gone then?’

Yasmine shrugs and wonders how to respond. ‘Yeah, something like that.’

‘So? You got no mark on you no more?’ Ugly Frank says with a hopeful smile as Yasmine frowns in confusion. ‘Means you’re single and ready to mingle, right?’

‘Frank!’ Yasmine tuts. ‘Get off.’

‘Seriously. Let’s go for a drink,’ Frank says.

‘Oh yeah,’ Dooley says with a slow realisation. ‘Dmitri said no one can fuck you.’

‘Dooley! Nobody is going for a drink and you shouldn’t be doing this,’ Yasmine snaps as the looters all share looks before bursting out laughing.

‘Who the fuck you talkin’ to?’ someone else asks with a foul look. ‘We been locked in for years! These fuckers owe us.’

‘And you were up here every fucking day stealing,’ a woman adds.

‘Yassy, budge over,’ a young lad says, barging between her and Sun to get through the hole into the store.

‘Plank! Get out of there,’ Yasmine says.

Another wrench from behind. Another store being smashed into with sirens blaring as a bench goes in through the window. A thing underway gaining momentum and Yasmine sags before heading off, realising there’s no way in the fleet to stop it happening.

‘That was intense,’ Sun says as they hit the stairwell. ‘But er, have you got Ugly Frank’s number?’ she asks as they both flinched from a scream of agony coming from a woman somewhere below them.

Gasps of pain and shock. Grunts of exertion. They round a bend. A figure on top of an older woman, stabbing her repeatedly.

‘FUCK!’ Yasmine yells as the attacker turns and runs without a single glance up. ‘Get her some help!’ Yasmine shouts as she takes off, running down the stairs.

‘YASSY!’ Sun shouts after her, thinking to go too, before cursing and rushing back to help the woman bleeding out from a dozen cuts. Her face ashen and growing paler by the second.

Yasmine spots the attacker just ahead of her. Just a figure in dark clothes going
down towards Neon City where she knows she’ll catch them because that is her world. All she has to do is shout and everyone else will pile in to stop whoever it is.

A plan in mind.

A plan ready to be executed as she takes the next turn and hears a scream from the Neon City platform below. Another then another. Male and female. All of them in pain and shock.

She flies down the last flight and leaps out onto the platform to people bleeding and screaming out.

A woman with a deep gash on her arm. A guy sagging back with his throat cut, the blood pouring through his fingers. More people slashed and cut. Yasmine batters through them to look out into Neon City and the back of the attacker sprinting into an alley. She sets off fast but has to fight through people flooding onto the platform. Hindering her motion. Hindering her path.

She gets through and runs fast, knowing she’s lost ground, but this is her world, and she runs with years of experience of running from Dmitri and his crew and running from the cops. She leaps crates and litter and keeps the pressure on. Spotting a smear of blood on the wall ahead. Spotting another further on. Watching the attacker running across a lane into another alley.

She goes on through the twists and turns at the back of the strip. Through the shadows where she thinks whoever it is might lie in wait and fight her, but they don’t; the attacker runs on all the way to the next stairwell where she just catches sight of them running onto the platform and heading up.

She mounts the stairs two at a time. Her thighs burning. Her chest gasping for air, but her mind fixed only on catching that person.

Up she goes and around each turn, the exertion beginning to take its toll.

Up and up until she hears a yell from the next level. Level 30.

She runs harder. Shouting out and rounding the corner to see that arm going in and out, plunging a blade into someone else. Then again, swift as anything, the attacker flees without a single look back and Ugly Frank staggers free, with the looted goods falling around his feet and the blood pouring from the puncture wounds to his chest and stomach.

‘Yassy,’ he gasps as his legs buckle. Yasmine lunges in. Caught out by his weight and instantly soaked from his blood.

‘Frank! HELP! I NEED HELP!’ she screams as she tries to press down on the bleeding cuts, but there are too many. ‘HELP ME!’ she screams louder until Dooley drops at her side, spraying spittle in shock.

Then more looters rush over to help, but it’s too little too late, and Frank gasps in pain and shock as his face grows pale and his hand grips Yasmine’s in panic and fear.

She tells him he will be okay. ‘You’ll be okay, Frank. I fucking swear it. I swear it. You’ll be okay.’ She sobs the words out, tears streaming down her cheeks. He tries to speak but only blood comes out of his mouth as he chokes and the panic grows worse until he thrashes and bucks, and eventually falls silent in death.

* * *

‘Yassy!’ Abdul gasps. ‘I’VE GOT HER! YASSY’S HERE!’

Zhang next, his face bathed in sweat. ‘Another one?’ he asks, seeing the body on the floor.

‘Ugly Frank,’ Yassy says, shaking her head. ‘There was a woman on the other stairwell. Sun was with her.’

‘Yassy!’ Sun yells, bounding up behind the others. Her hands, arms and clothes soaked in blood. ‘You okay? Oh god. Oh no. Is that Frank? Oh my god.’ She falls silent at the sight of him, at the shock of it all.

‘The other woman?’ Yasmine asks as Sun stares at her blankly for a second before the words sink in and she shakes her head.

‘She’s dead. Faiza sent some stair guards and I ran after you . . .’

‘There’s two more dead on the Neon City platform,’ Abdul says. ‘And another one with a deep cut on the arm. Who was it?’

She shook her head. ‘Didn’t see him . . .’

‘Him? A guy. You sure it was a guy?’ Zhang asks.

‘No. I didn’t see them. Could have been anyone,’ Yasmine says as she looks down at Ugly Frank and tries to wipe the tears from her face but just smears more blood over her skin. Blood everywhere. On the floor. On the stairs. On her clothes and her arms. On Sun and Abdul. On Zhang and Dooley and the others who tried to help. ‘I just spoke to him,’ she says, looking back up at Abdul and Zhang. ‘I just spoke to Frank.’

‘He asked her out,’ Sun says, as shaken as Yasmine. ‘He was smiling and . . .’ She trails off, shaking her head. Not knowing what to think or say or how to act.

All of them the same. That feeling of being overwhelmed and useless.

‘Is that Ugly Frank?’ Nelly asks, coming to a stop with armfuls of stolen gear. ‘That’s Frank? Oh my god. Is he dead?’

Dooley nods. ‘He’s fucking dead. Frank’s dead. They’ve done him.’

‘Eh?’ Flappy asks, rushing over with Plank and more lads and girls and men and women. ‘What’s that?’

‘They’ve done Frank,’ Nelly says. ‘He’s dead. He’s fucking dead!’

‘Who has?’ Flappy asks. ‘Was it the gangs?’

‘No,’ Yasmine tries to say, but her voice goes unheard in the rising clamour.

‘It was the Humility gang,’ Plank says, turning to face the others. ‘They’ve done Ugly Frank!’

‘They got two more on the Neon City platform. Shy Sheila and Terry Thin Lips,’ someone else says as the crowd grows.

‘No! It was only one,’ Yasmine tries to say but the rumours fly out faster than anything known to humanity.

‘They killed three more!’

‘The Humility lot knifed three more of ours!’

‘Zhang!’ Yasmine yells before lurching over to grab his arm. ‘This wasn’t the gangs. One person did this! Abdul, listen to me,’ she says, tying to make them both listen amid the chaos of calls coming in from Colin, Clara, Faiza, and Forensics Phil all at the same time with more people rushing over as the shouts and yells of anguish fill the air.

Three more Elforists murdered.

One more Humility resident murdered.

The bodies of Angie Putanski and Brandon Schu only now being collected from Neon City to stuff into Sven’s walk-in freezer, the morgue still closed, the staff refusing to work. The cops refusing to work. Med services refusing to work.

Chaos and carnage in every direction and a ship readying to implode.

‘All units! Rape victim found on stairwell three into Neon. All units!’

Jemima the police comms controller blaring out on Zhang’s band. Stair guards nearby getting the same calls. Red and green buttons to press to show they’re responding.

‘You!’ Zhang orders, pointing at one of the guards. ‘Stay here. Guard this scene . . .’ He sets off with Yasmine, Sun and Abdul for the third stairwell. Barging out through the crowd to get into the retail zone and through those sad lanes devoid of adverts where the looters spread rumours that more Elforists have been stabbed and killed.

On they run. As fast as they can. Minds spinning. Legs hurting. Everything a blur. Into the back end near the smaller stores. All the way over to the third stairwell and down down down they go. Taking the turns and leaping two or three stairs at a time.

Down down down to Level 37. To the platform leading into Neon City. To another crowd around Gorgeous Georgie sobbing hard, her breath coming in gasps. Her face streaked with tears. A blanket wrapped around her and someone pushing a bottle of Elfor Juice to her lips.

‘Get that down ya love.’

‘No!’ Zhang shouts, needing her to stay sterile so they can swab her for forensics. Needing her mind to stay focused so he can take an account. Needing the people to stop holding her and rubbing her back and destroying any DNA that might still be on her.

But Gorgeous Georgie takes a big swig and sags back with a gasp as the drugs burn down her throat and spread out into her belly. Making her eyes go unfocused. Making her speech slurred.

‘No!’ Zhang yells, grabbing the guy to send him sprawling backwards. ‘What did you give her? Is that Elfor Juice? You dumb shit! You stupid fucking DUMB SHIT!’

‘Zhang!’ Abdul shouts, wrenching him back.

‘She can’t talk now!’ Zhang screams at the man then at Abdul. ‘I need her to talk. You’ve drugged her, fucking idiot!’

‘That’s her dad!’ Abdul snaps as Georgie’s dad stares on in confusion and pain.

‘Georgie!’ Yasmine says, pushing into her side. ‘Hey! Look at me. Look at me, Georgie. Tell me what happened.’

Georgie blinks slowly then smiles drunken and drugged. ‘Yassy!’ she slurs, reaching out a hand to rub the blood from Yasmine’s cheeks. ‘Why you bleeding? Did they rape you too?’

‘No,’ Yasmine says, her voice breaking with emotion as Sun covers her own mouth and fights back the tears while around them the anger and rage grows.

‘She’s my kid.’ Georgie’s dad stares at Zhang. ‘She’s my kid . . . SHE’S MY KID . . . SHE’S MY FUCKING KID YOU CUNT!’

He flies at Zhang with that paternal rage needing to vent, as Abdul pushes him back while more people rush over to add their voices to that ever-growing clamour.

‘Georgie. Tell me what happened,’ Yasmine urges, moving in closer to be heard over the noise.

Georgie smiles again. Sixteen years old and the first time she’s had Elfor Juice. Yasmine can see it’s no use. Her eyes are gone. And what’s worse, she’s now got Ugly Frank’s blood on her, and the blood from every other victim Yasmine has touched today.

‘We need to seal those fucking stairs off again. We ain’t safe!’ someone shouts as Yasmine starts to move away.

‘Two of ’em,’ Georgie blurts with a rush of panic as she reaches out to grab Yasmine’s hand. ‘Two of ’em, Yassy. They had me. Covered my head and . . . I was good. You know? I didn’t do it before . . . I didn’t do nothing, Yassy. I was good. I didn’t have no sex with no one.’

Yasmine’s heart breaks at the words coming out as Georgie clings to her. ‘They hurt me, Yassy. They made me bleed.’

‘This is out of order, Yassy!’ someone else says.

‘Abdul, you gotta stop this shit!’ another voice yells.

‘Seal them fucking stairs back up before we all get raped!’

Pain and suffering in every direction. The Elfors are vast and full of people, but it’s tight-knit and nearly everyone now knows someone either raped or murdered. Families. Friends. Clans. Tribes. Gangs. Lanes. Avenues. Neighbours. All of them full of rage and anger while yet more come down the stairs, arms filled with looted goods.

Yasmine looks round, taking it all in as tears track the bloody smears on her cheeks. Confusion. Angst. An inability to grip the unfolding carnage because all they keep doing is running from one dead body to the next. But it wasn’t the gangs that killed Frank. It was one person. Yasmine saw it. But everyone thinks it’s the gangs.

‘We’re getting fucked over,’ she says in a way that makes Zhang look at her. She fixes her eyes on his. ‘We are. We’re getting fucked over. It wasn’t the gangs that killed Frank.’

Zhang thinks about Angie and Brandon Schu and that sense of unease that made him order Forensics Phil to holograph the scene.

‘Fuck this,’ Yasmine says, then a second later she’s off. Striding towards the stairwell.

‘Where you going?’ Sun calls after her, running to catch up.

‘To see Helga!’

‘Shit,’ Abdul mutters, rushing after her as Zhang follows suit. Hitting the stairwell with Abdul shouting for Yasmine to stop.

But Yasmine won’t stop. She can’t stop. She’s too angry. Too furious. And that energy makes her go faster, taking the stairs two at a time until she gets out onto the retail zone and strides on through the lanes full of stores being looted and rumours being spread.

‘Zhang!’ Colin calls, kneeling beside the body of Ugly Frank and spotting them coming towards the main stairwell. ‘Why aren’t you with the rape victim? Zhang? ZHANG! Where are you going?!’

‘To see Helga!’ Sun calls as Colin curses and tells the poor stair guard to stay there as he rushes after them.

‘Hey? What’s going on?’ Clara asks, breathing hard from running up the stairs.

‘Um. I think they’re going to see Helga?’ the bewildered stair guard says, trying to cope with a dead body and an angry crowd.

‘Aw hell,’ Clara says, rushing after them. ‘Zhangy! Don’t you do something stupid now! You hear me!’

‘Sod Zhang. Yassy’s up front,’ Colin yells as Clara sprints harder.

‘YASSY! YOU CANNOT JUST STORM UP THERE!’ Clara yells.

‘I FUCKING CAN!’

‘Damn, these folk got some anger,’ Clara mutters, running hard to catch up with Yasmine powering up the stairs. Flight after flight. Turn after turn. All the way up. All the way to the top where she comes face to face with the closed door to Level 1.

‘Open the door,’ Yasmine snaps at Abdul.

‘I’m not opening that door until you calm down!’ Abdul says.

‘Open the fucking door!’

‘Yassy, calm down,’ Abdul orders as Yasmine keeps kicking the door while Sun and Abdul and Clara and Colin all try and occupy the same point in time and space.

At which point the scanner switches from red to green and they spill through. Squabbling and cursing just as the elevator doors open with Penny, Jorgey and Janey piling out.

‘Yassy!’ Penny says, running to block her off.

‘Get out the way, Penny. Where’s Helga!’

‘Don’t use her name like that!’ Penny urges as Yasmine strides towards Helga’s offices with Abdul trying to stop her. Zhang at the front with Yasmine. Colin and Clara, Jorgey and Janey all calling out.

‘I know where she is!’ Yasmine cries out, spinning around to barge through the others behind her as she aims for the doors leading up to the bridge.

‘Zhang! You will stand down,’ Colin orders, but Zhang flicks him the bird and rushes on with Yasmine. Both of them getting to the bridge doors, both trying to swipe their bands over the scanner while everyone else tries to shout and stop them.

And again, the scanner switches from red to green and the doors pull back with Yasmine and Zhang piling through.

‘HELGA!’ Yasmine shouts, running for the metal stairs.

‘At least shout Captain!’ Penny whispers frantically.

‘I’m up here,’ a voice calls back. Helga’s voice. Calm. Measured. Controlled.

Yasmine runs up. Zhang too. Everyone else behind them. Piling up the stairs and out onto the bridge to see Sam in the captain’s chair surrounded by screens and Helga off to one side. Turning to face them. Her chin up. Her eyes level. Calm. Measured. Controlled.

Yasmine and Zhang come to a stop side by side, breathing hard and covered in the blood of the people they tried to save. Those two in front of everyone else and in that second, in that light, and in that place, Helga sees the difference in them and how they stand apart from the others. She reads their energy. Dark and furious, and how they will scorn any shred of authority or responsibility until something triggers inside like now. Then they’ll lead armies into war.

Which is exactly what Helga needs, and which is why she stares levelly at two of her best assets as they come to a stop, their chests heaving and their dark furious eyes locked on her.

‘This needs to end!’ Yasmine says.

‘You gotta fix this shit,’ Zhang says, his voice low and growling.

‘Fix what, Detective Woo?’ Helga asks in a tone designed to bring forth the anger needed to get them all mentally prepared for what’s to come.

‘This shit!’ Yasmine shouts. ‘We’re getting fucked over. Everyone thinks the gangs are doing all the murders, but Frank wasn’t killed by the gangs!’

‘Frank?’ Helga enquires.

‘FUCK!’ Yasmine shouts in frustration.

‘Ugly Frank,’ Zhang says. ‘Elforist. Yasmine and Sun saw a woman being knifed on the stairwell. Yassy gave chase to a single perp who stabbed more Elforists on the Neon City platform then ran up and killed Frank.’

‘One person!’ Yasmine says, holding a finger up while glaring at Helga.

‘And that first woman wasn’t an Elforist,’ Sun adds. ‘Someone said she lived on Level 36.’

‘Hang on,’ Jorgey says from behind them. ‘The gangs have killed people. We know that.’

‘But they’re not killing everyone!’ Yasmine says. ‘They want everyone to think the gangs are doing it.’

‘They?’ Jorgey asks.

‘Whoever is trying to screw us!’ Yasmine says, turning back to glare at Helga. ‘I’m telling you. We are getting fucked over. What they did to that shuttle on the way back from the Beijing, and now all that shit on the news with all those slimeballs telling everyone you’re a useless bitch and—’

‘Yassy!’ Penny hisses.

‘What?! They are saying that. They’re trying to turn the whole fleet against us and we’re doing nothing! We look weak.’

‘Yasmine, listen—’ Helga starts to say.

‘No! Don’t you even dare Yasmine listen me. Georgie was a virgin!’ Yasmine shouts. Her voice cracking with emotion as Helga flinches. ‘She was sixteen,’ Yasmine adds, wiping the tears from her cheeks with bloodied hands. ‘And Frank was a good guy . . .’

‘Yasmine,’ Abdul says, trying to pull her back.

‘Get off me!’ she shouts. Too full of rage to seek or need comfort or kind words.

‘We gotta grip this,’ Zhang says again. ‘It’s too much. Angie and that kid Brandon. Harry and . . . and Jessie . . . Skinny Jimmy . . . Johnson Patel . . . Brian and Ardu and Larry . . .’

Names in his mind. Each one of them a life, but how many were killed by the gangs, and how many by whoever Yasmine chased?

‘Yassy, Zhangy, this ain’t how it’s done,’ Clara says gently, trying to guide them both back.

‘Fuck the police!’ Yasmine yells with a greater explosion of fury. ‘You can’t let this happen,’ she says, turning on Helga.

‘Do you think I want this?’ Helga asks.

‘I don’t know. Do you?’ Yasmine fires back, taking a step closer. ‘Cos you’re up here doing fuck all while our ship is tearing itself apart!’

There it is.

She said our ship.

Which signifies an investment of emotion into the state of turmoil, and with it the intent to fix it driven by the sheer frustration of their collective impotence. And Helga is truly sorry for the people who died and that young women suffered such awful assaults, but it had to happen. It had to get so very bad that these few trying to hold the line would do anything to stop it.

‘Yasmine. I understand your frustrations, but watch your damned tone,’ Helga says, still pushing buttons to trigger the rage needed.

‘Watch my fucking tone? Frank just died in my arms. Look. LOOK!’ she yells, raising her bloody hands up. ‘You go down there and look in Georgie’s eyes and then tell me to watch my fucking tone!’

‘Boss,’ Zhang says, shaking his head at her. Glaring at her. He tried to kill her once. Zhang put his hands on Helga’s neck and choked her while she used her hand on him. He’s got that same energy in him now. That same need to visit violence. ‘Fix this,’ he urges.

‘With what, Zhang?! Where’s the DNA? Where’s the CCTV? Where are the witnesses? There are rules about this. We need evidence to find the offenders.’

There it is. There’s the line and Helga pauses for Yasmine to take her cue and explode in righteous anger.

‘THEY ARE RAPING YOUNG GIRLS!’ Yasmine yells at her as Penny and Janey nod and add their voices and the collective energy shifts towards the point of no return. But they’re not all there yet. There’s still some clinging to reason and rules.

‘I said it before,’ Clara cuts in. ‘You sort those gangs and rapists out and the rest will settle down. Crime breeds crime.’

‘Clara’s right,’ Colin says. ‘But without stopping the gangs or the rapists it’s only going to get worse.’

‘Oh my fucking god what is wrong with you?’ Yasmine asks with another surge of angry frustration. ‘All you lot do is talk about it and say shit like, er yeah we just need to wait for a break in the case. Fuck that, and fuck the police, we need to do this the Elfor way.’

‘What the hell does that mean?’ Jorgey asks.

‘It means we do whatever it takes,’ Yasmine says. ‘This ain’t the first murderer or rapist the Elfors have had. We sort these things out ourselves.’

They’re almost there. Zhang and Yasmine out front ready to commit murder. And it won’t be the first time. Zhang has killed for Helga before, and Yasmine took life on the Beijing. Those two are ready, and enough of the others too.

The only problem is they can’t do it alone. Not Helga or Abdul. Not Jorgey, or Colin, or even Yasmine and Zhang.

The person who can do it isn’t joining in yet. But then his is a different way of thinking.

‘Yasmine,’ Helga says with the gentlest touch of a patronising tone designed to trigger her. ‘If I had the means I would end it.’

A buzz in the air. An incoming call on Colin’s band. He moves to cut it off then frowns at the ID of the caller and swipes to answer. ‘Drago?’

‘I don’t have long,’ Drago says into the feed, his voice low, his face worried. ‘They’ve recalled every tactical team on the Ark and put them on standby ready to take the Humility by force. I gotta go. I’ll message if I can, but my advice is you do whatever it takes because this shit is being driven from somewhere very high.’

He cuts off, and Abdul swipes to read a message. ‘They’ve put the vote out to the other captains. It’s happening now. If it gets passed the Feds will board us.’

‘And then what?’ Yasmine asks.

‘Then the Elfors get sealed back in,’ Helga says. ‘And we all die,’ she adds while seeing the looks of horror on their faces.

‘Call that other captain and get her guys over,’ Yasmine urges.

‘We can’t,’ Abdul says. ‘Then her guys get killed too. The code, Yassy. These people crashed three worldships together. That’s how powerful they are.’

‘Then we’ve got to fight back! We need to stop those fuckers from boarding us. How do we do that? Come on! We’ll block the airlocks off and get every Elforist up here ready to fight.’

‘No,’ Helga says. ‘We have to be smart. We have to remove the need for them to board. That’s how we do it. If we can show the fleet we have control they’ll lose support instantly. It’s the only way. Believe me. The gangs. The rapists. We have to find out who they are.’

‘How?’ Yasmine asks into that silent charged air.

‘I know how.’

Helga breathes an inward sigh of relief as the voice behind them finally speaks out and they turn to see Sam in the captain’s chair.

‘We run a ping on every data access point near to every single one of the murders and obtain the digi-sigs of all the wristbands in those areas,’ Sam says.

‘Digi-sigs?’ Yasmine asks as Sam shuts all of his screens, opens a new one to tap into and a second later twists it around to show them the lines of code scrolling down.

‘You see the lines of data? Each line represents the digital signature of a wristband. By running pings on the data access points closest to each crime, we can see all of the wristbands in each scene at the time they happened.’

‘How will that help?’ Zhang says with a frown before darting forward a step. ‘Hey, no! I know. If we crossmatch all of those digi-sigs to see who shows up at every crime scene then it’ll be like matching DNA. Whose DNA is at the scene of each crime? Sam, can you do that?’

‘Yeah. Easy. I just need the location, time and date of each attack.’

‘I got it here,’ Zhang says.

Sam starts off by hacking into the ship’s own mainframe, which isn’t technically hacking seeing as Helga added him to the Level 1 security clearance list and gave him direct access.

Then he runs a ping to get all of the digital signatures of all of the people in the area at the time Larry the Lurker was murdered – and a second later another screen blooms up with hundreds of lines of code scrolling down.

‘That’s all the people in the area when Larry died,’ Sam says as the others crowd in.

‘That’s a lot,’ Abdul says at the huge list.

‘Sam, try Harry Wetlock. He was the next victim straight after Larry,’ Zhang says.

More minutes pass. Minutes during which the secret vote, which isn’t a secret at all, flies out on the net to every captain in the fleet, setting out the proposal to board the Humility. Abdul opens it up to read with a pained grimace.

“The worldship Humility is suffering from a total lack of control without a functioning police service, or any form of governmental leadership being implemented.

As such, it is the view of the Federal Authority that if left unchecked, many more innocent lives will be lost.

Fleet Federal Police have the means to gain access and secure safety for those on board.

Once that control has been gained, an interim captain appointed by the Ark will govern the ship until such time as fair elections can be held, during which time, it is considered necessary for the security arrangement in place prior to the loss of Captain Jefferson to be re-implemented for the Elfors.

Your vote is sought to secure the lives of innocent people.”

Abdul finishes reading as another screen blooms up, filled with hundreds more lines of code, to a near-collective groan. ‘That’s Harry Wetlock,’ Sam says, his mind drawn into the task at hand.

He does the same for each victim, with more screens popping up that he has to detach and push back to give himself room to work.

‘Crossmatch them,’ Zhang says.

Sam types on. Adding filters to see who is showing at each crime scene.

‘The vote is underway,’ Abdul says, adding tension to the already electric air as the screens start highlighting individual lines of code.

‘Those are the ones showing up at each scene,’ Sam says as they all look at the useless lines of data that mean nothing at all.

Except they do mean something. Especially to a trained detective.

‘Okay, that one’s not registered,’ Zhang says, plucking one out. ‘Neither is that one, or this one . . .’ He pulls more out to stack to one side. Lines of glowing holographic code hang in the air. ‘That doesn’t help,’ he mutters while thinking it’ll be impossible to track unregistered bands. ‘Hey, no! They’re the Elforists,’ he adds suddenly. ‘I got it. Don’t touch them,’ he orders. ‘So the registered bands are the Humility gangs’, and the unregistered are the Elforist gangs’. Yeah, see, they’re showing up at nearly every scene. Larry’s murder has got both. But Harry Wetlock is surrounded by unregistered wristbands. Then Jessie Robard is surrounded by all of them.’

‘Jessie died in a big fight,’ Yasmine says. ‘That’s the gangs then. Right. Let’s get them. Where are they?’

‘What?’ Zhang asks.

‘These people. Where are they?’ Yasmine asks.

‘I just said they’re digi-sigs. They don’t have names,’ Zhang says.

‘Then what good are they?!’ Yasmine asks. ‘Try doing something useful. Sam, how do we find out who they are?’

‘That vote is moving fast,’ Abdul says. ‘I’m getting messages from contacts.’

‘Drago just messaged me,’ Colin says, opening his own system. ‘The shuttles are being prepped.’

‘Sam?’ Yasmine says. ‘Who are they?’

‘I don’t know! The digi-sigs don’t have names or any other data.’

‘Can’t you just hack it and find the names?’

‘It doesn’t work like that. The Pact means there is no list of digi-sigs matching the names of the band owners. Literally not anywhere. No, I mean, there will be some secret list somewhere, but it could be anywhere on any system in the whole fleet. Even I couldn’t find that.’

‘Okay, shut up,’ Zhang says after Sam finishes talking. ‘No. Shut up. Shut up and let me think.’

‘Nobody said anything,’ Penny whispers.

‘Shush!’ Zhang says, waving his hand while his face screws up in thought.

‘Jesus, Zhang. Do you need a shit?’ Yasmine asks him. ‘Sam, seriously, just find them.’

‘How?!’

‘I don’t know!’

‘I do!’ Zhang says, clicking his fingers. ‘Sam, you need to get into the stores’ CCTV and recover all the footage from the times and locations of the murders.’

‘They don’t film outside their own stores,’ Jorgey says. ‘The Pact prevents it.’

‘Overspill,’ Colin says.

‘Overspill,’ Zhang says at the same time. ‘The camera points at the glass door, right? Or the glass window, but it records a bit of outside at the same time. I mean, it’s only a few inches sometimes, but it might be enough.’

‘Enough for what?’ Helga asks.

‘Sam, you deleted Yassy from every bit of footage on the Beijing, right?’ Zhang asks.

‘Facial recognition!’ Sam says, grasping Zhang’s thought process as he types fast to hack into the retail zone then into the stores closest to the murder of Larry as yet more screens bloom up.

Crowds seen outside the windows and doors running by or stopping to fight. Snatches and glimpses of faces in the dim light and not enough for the naked eye to discern any detail at all.

But computers don’t use the naked eye. They use software to read and analyse the contours and shapes of faces, which is what Sam created to delete all the footage of Yasmine from the Beijing.

He sets it to work now. Re-coding it to make it look for repeated patterns, then fine-tuning and adjusting and applying it to each store as the feeds start overlaying with fine green schematic lines recording faces, measuring noses and chins and the contours of cheeks and foreheads. Fast and furious and a second later yet more feeds detach as still images float up above each feed showing faces captured at angles. They start grouping together as the software recognises the same face captured in different views and in different places.

‘Okay, what I can do now is triangulate the pattern of the digi-sigs from the pings run through the data access points,’ Sam says. ‘Which should then give the position for each person in each area which we can grid up to match to the positions of the cameras, then we’ll start matching those digi-sigs found at every scene to those faces recorded from the stores . . .’

‘I didn’t get a word of that, but how does it help us find them?’ Yasmine asks.

‘I’ll reverse the program I used for you and run those faces through the entire net to see who they are.’

Helga nods slowly before looking at Abdul monitoring the voting and the stress showing on his features. ‘And the rapes, Sam?’ she asks. ‘How do we find the rapists?’

‘That’s going to be harder,’ Zhang says. ‘The offenders would have removed their own bands, and we know they take the victims’ bands off when they snatch them. Plus, they’re operating on stairwells next to residential levels, which means the pings will return hundreds of digi-sigs but not those of the offenders. Okay, Sam, run a ping and get the digi-sigs from everyone near the victims at the time they were captured, and then again at the point they were dumped back by the stairwells and recovered their wristbands.’ He pauses to wait as more screens pop up filled with hundreds of lines of code. Each line a digi-sig of someone in that area. ‘That’s a lot,’ Zhang says, thinking fast. ‘Okay, widen the radius and run pings on all of the digi-sigs that come back.’

‘Are you being serious?’ Sam asks. ‘You want me to ping the digi-sigs? That’ll be thousands. Our bands ping every other band we go near all day and night.’

‘Run it and show me,’ Zhang says as Sam shrugs and types on and after a few moments new screens open up filled with thousands of results.

‘Zhang, you’re disappearing down a rat hole,’ Colin says.

‘I’m not. Let me work,’ Zhang says. ‘Each victim’s wristband identifies the digi-sigs of the wristbands of the people closest to them at the point they were taken. And ninety-nine per cent of those were people inside their cabins. You get that, right? It’s night. The victim gets snatched. The attackers rip her band off and carry her off, but we know it’s somewhere on the residential levels between Level 30 and Neon City. That’s six levels, which means thousands of people asleep in their cabins. We ping every single one of those bands from the people in their cabins and we look at who is showing up again and again.’

Sam runs the programs he asked for and winces at the screens popping up filled with tens of thousands of digi-sigs. Some of which start glowing on each screen.

‘Okay,’ Zhang says. ‘The ones glowing are the residents on those Levels near to those assaults. So now we isolate all of those residents and run it against the list of digi-sigs being pinged at the times the attacks happened and tell it to identify the digi-sigs not showing up at those times.’

‘Oh shit,’ Colin says as Clara and Jorgey get it instantly, then a second later Helga blinks and grasps what Zhang is doing.

‘What?’ Yasmine asks.

‘Why can’t you work like this all the time, Zhang?’ Jorgey asks, shaking her head in awe at him.

‘What’s he done?’ Yasmine asks.

‘He’s worked out a way to see who is showing up outside the times the women were attacked but not when the attacks are happening,’ Colin says.

Another list blooms up. Smaller than the others. A dozen or so names only. ‘Trust me. The rapists are on that list,’ Zhang says.

‘The vote’s passed,’ Abdul says, looking up at the others. ‘The Feds have consent to board the Humility by force. They just voted for our death warrants to be executed.’

‘Then we need to move fast,’ Helga says. ‘Jorgey, how do we do this?’

‘We get everyone together and do it the old-fashioned way. We go knock some doors.’

‘Amen to that. I’ll get everyone briefed,’ Clara says.

‘No! You’ll scare them off,’ Zhang says as Clara turns back. ‘Let Yassy and Sun do it. Yassy, you two get down there and start working through that list. I’ll stay here and try and narrow it down and work on a way to identify the gangs . . . But do it discreetly. We spook these motherfuckers they’ll go to ground, then the Feds will board and they’ll be free to keep going.’

‘Got it,’ Yasmine says, sharing a nod with Sun as they find their ear gels. ‘Sam, you staying on comms?’

‘We’ll set an operations room up,’ Helga says. ‘Jorgey, find someone to manage the comms. Yassy, why are you still here? Go now!’

A clap of her hands gets them moving, yelling last minute instructions at each other with a surge of collective energy at finally having something to do.

‘Clara, get some strike teams together,’ Jorgey orders. ‘Hunker down somewhere quiet. Colin, you take ground control. I’ll control comms from up here. Zhang, narrow that list down, we still need to take the murderers out. And Captain?’ she says, gaining Helga and Abdul’s attention. ‘Might be an idea to get Abdul off the ship again. There’s no point in all of us dying here if it goes wrong which, in all honesty, is most likely what will happen.’

‘No,’ Abdul says firmly. ‘I went off last time. You should go,’ he tells Helga.

‘And risk being seen as hiding?’ Helga asks. ‘No. Now do it.’

‘Sure,’ Abdul says with a twitch of his lips. ‘Except we don’t have a pilot. Or a shuttle.’

‘Oh, but we do, and we do,’ Helga says with a wink.

11

‘Are you being serious?’ Sven asks.

‘Trust me. I don’t like it either,’ Abdul says as the airlock door opens and they head through the tunnel and into the impounded shuttle.

‘I make porridge,’ Sven says, turning to look at Abdul. ‘I can’t fly this.’

Abdul shrugs. ‘You did a pilot’s course.’

‘That doesn’t make me a pilot.’

‘It does now,’ Abdul says, heading into the cabin at the front.

‘And what? We’re just running off while everyone else stays here and fights?’

‘Those are Helga’s orders,’ Abdul says while strapping himself into the co-pilot’s seat.

‘We’re Elforists, Abdul. We don’t run from a scrap,’ Sven says, looming in the doorway behind him. ‘Find someone else. I’m going to stand with my mates.’

‘I said those were Helga’s orders,’ Abdul calls. ‘I never said that’s what we’re going to do.’

Sven stops to look back and clocks the gleam of violence in Abdul’s eyes.

* * *

Two maintenance workers reach Sven’s Eatery and head into the packed lane. A red-haired woman with a nose covered in freckles. The other a mixed-race woman with piercing blue eyes. Dorka spots them and nods them on to Janey Dead Leg at the back who nods them on to Dil and Marko who open the toilet door and motion for them to go inside.

Red-Jen nods and shares a look with Betty Blue Eyes. The two head into the toilet and a moment or so later they step back out dressed in normal clothes.

‘Thanks for this,’ a voice calls from inside.

‘Anything for the cause,’ Red-Jen says.

‘Elfor till I die,’ Betty says, the two of them walking to a table under a UV light that catches the stick-figure tattoos on their necks and arms. Stick-figures pouring water over plants and flowers.

And a moment after that, two other women step from the toilets now dressed in the brown uniforms of maintenance workers. Dil nods as they pass. Marko does the same. Erik inside the café watches as they go by. Dorka and Janey Dead Leg. Others too. Watching them and the news feeds scrolling up the wall.

THE STAIRWELL RAPISTS STRIKE AGAIN!

THE ICE QUEEN HAS LOST CONTROL!

POLITICIANS ACROSS THE FLEET VOTE FOR THE FEDS TO SEIZE CONTROL OF THE HUMILITY!

The two maintenance workers rush from the eatery to the stairwell and down to Level 32 and off into Row B and down to Cabin 22.

They slow as they approach and make a show of checking the planters growing in the middle. Pushing fingers into the synthetic peat growing beds and running scanners over the plants.

People pass them by and pay no heed, not even offering a glance because maintenance workers are part of the furniture. They’re invisible.

They stop and, while checking the growing beds, they pay attention to the cabin door.

‘We’re at the first one,’ Yasmine says as though remarking on something casual to Sun. ‘Cabin 22. Row B. Level 32.’

‘Roger that,’ Jorgey says into their ears. Standing amid a set of screens in one of the large offices hastily turned into an operations room on Level 1. Penny and Janey shoving desks together and booting up systems while Clara briefs her teams.

‘I’m here!’ A voice at the door. Jemima rushing in. The police comms operator who was working from her own cabin. ‘Chief, where do you need me?’

‘We’re running a live op. I need the systems up,’ Jorgey whispers, motioning to the screens she was trying to operate as Jemima steps in to take over, her hands blurring with skilled precision.

‘All units. Control in place. Repeat. Control in place. What assets are in play?’

Colin steps over. ‘Two covert units on the ground doing track and trace. Callsigns Y and S. Clara has three strike teams. Live operation. Speed of the essence. Objective to locate and detain sexual assault offenders then the gangs.’

‘Understood Op-Com,’ Jemima says smoothly. ‘Control to Y and S. Update please.’

‘We’re outside the first one but we’ve got no view inside the cabin,’ Yasmine’s voice comes back.

Jemima frowns for a second before another screen blooms up giving her access to the rape suspect list as Sam and Zhang work through the digi-sigs on the bridge. She reads fast, seeing Y and S are outside the cabin address for the first suspect.

‘Control to Y and S. Understood. Stand by for orders.’

‘Knock the door!’ Helga says, striding into the room with a fresh surge of energy as she takes one of the gels from the side table and pops it into her ear. ‘Yassy, it’s Helga. Knock on his damned door.’

‘Advise caution,’ Jorgey says. ‘Y and S are not trained officers. Suspect could be armed. Suggest wait for strike team to be in place.’

‘Stuff that. I’ll knock on his door,’ Yasmine says, nodding at Sun as they head over to the door while slipping hands into pockets to loop fingers through hard resin Elfor Knuckles. ‘You ready?’

‘I got your back,’ Sun says, stepping to the side of the door as Yasmine knocks, then waits, then knocks again.

It swishes back. A guy staring out. Yasmine stares in. Sun frowns and leans over and stares too.

‘Right,’ Sun says. ‘He’s only got one leg.’

‘What does that matter?’ Yasmine asks.

‘How’s he gonna carry someone my size off a stairwell and run down a row with her on one leg?’

‘Prosthetic?’ Yasmine asks.

‘Sorry, can I help you?’ the man asks, staring strangely over Yasmine’s head. She waves a hand in front of his eyes but gets no reaction.

‘And it appears he’s blind,’ Sun says. ‘Soooo, I’m not a cop but I don’t think a one-legged blind guy is the attacker.’

‘Or is he blind?’ Yasmine whispers with a knowing nod as she lashes out as though to punch the guy and stops an inch from his nose, with absolutely no reaction.

‘You’ll have to speak up! I’m deaf,’ he shouts.

‘Okay. Not him then,’ Yasmine says before jabbing her finger in her ear in a way that sends a blast of noise to everyone else on the same network, who all wince. ‘He’s blind and deaf.’

‘So am I,’ Jorgey says, rubbing her ear as everyone does the same. ‘Don’t jab the gel. You just speak and it hears you.’

‘And he only had one leg,’ Sun adds.

‘Not him then,’ Zhang says on the bridge, glaring at the list of suspect digi-sigs as Sam tries to find the specific location for each of them. Which is taking too much time.

‘Feds are boarding on the Ark. We’ve got about two hours,’ Colin relays, adding to the pressure.

‘This is taking too long,’ Helga says in the operations room. ‘Zhang, Sam. There has to be a better way than this.’

* * *

And in the Level 30 docking port the air fills with another loud bang followed by a screech of metal, and should anyone passing pause and look through the small window, they would see a docked shuttle seemingly bouncing against the side of the ship.

‘What part of me not being a pilot did you not understand?’ Sven asks as his ladle slides over the console unit into Abdul’s lap. ‘I can’t even undock the bloody thing,’ Sven mutters. ‘We are so fucked,’ he adds, swiping his band to make a call. ‘Sam! It’s Sven.’

‘Sven! Hey, how are you?’

‘Not now, Sven!’ Yasmine’s voice cuts in. ‘We’re a bit busy.’

‘We’re all a bit busy! Sam, how do I undock a shuttle from an airlock?’

Silence.

Pure silence.

‘Why would you even need to ask that?’ Yasmine asks.

‘Cos I bloody do!’ Sven says. ‘Sam?’

‘You don’t. The airlock detaches from the shuttle. Where are you?’

‘Level 30 docking port,’ Sven says.

‘Hang on,’ Sam says. ‘It’s a double system. There’s two systems to access . . .’ He brings up another screen to gain access to the airlock AI system with a rush of surreal familiarity from operating the same controls for years. ‘Okay, you ready?’

‘Ready for what?’ Sven asks.

‘Yes, we’re bloody ready!’ Abdul snaps. ‘Just undock the damn thing.’

‘Holy shit. Are you stealing it?’ Yasmine asks. ‘Man, that’s a good score. Where you fencing it? I know a guy who would probably buy it, but you’d have to clean it.’

‘Yeah, it’s still covered in puke actually,’ Sven says.

‘Not the inside. She means wipe the digital identification from the transponder,’ Abdul says as he and Sven share a look of sudden realisation.

‘Please tell me you’ve already done that,’ Sven says as Sam sends the shuttle spinning over and over and out into space as though tumbling free, and the wet porridge from the ladle slaps over their faces.

‘No, wait,’ Zhang says with a sudden thought. ‘No. Shut up. Shut up,’ he tells Sam who isn’t saying a thing. ‘Seriously. Shut up. Someone said double. Who said double?’

‘I said the airlock is a double system,’ Sam says.

‘Double. What is that? It’s important. What does that mean?’

‘Dual?’ Sam says, trying to help, because he is a helpful chap like that.

‘Duplicate?’ Penny says, also trying to be helpful.

‘REPEATED?’ Sven yells, while spinning over and over in an out-of-control shuttle.

‘Twins?’ Helga suggests as Zhang’s eyes ping wide.

‘Twins. Brothers. Double,’ Zhang says, nodding at Sam.

‘The rapists!’ Yasmine says into the comms. ‘The victims all said there were two guys that took them. Look for two people living together.’

‘Working on it!’ Sam says as Yasmine’s band vibrates while she and Sun tuck up near the stairwell. She swipes to answer and flinches at a near hysterical face blooming up.

‘Yassy! They got my Inga! THEY GOT HER, YASSY!’

‘Inga, slow down,’ Yasmine says. ‘Who’s got her?’

‘THEM! The rapists. She went up to her mate on 35 but she didn’t get there, and I got worried, and I ran up and found her band. They ripped it off her, Yassy. They got her, Yassy!’

‘Who is that?’ Jorgey asks as the call comes over the comms.

‘That’s Inga-One,’ Penny says with a look of abject horror. ‘Her daughter’s called Inga-Two. She’s only fifteen . . .’

‘Sam! Find them!’ Helga shouts, her face a mask of rising anger.

‘Two seconds,’ Sam says, his own face now a mask of determination as he types faster than ever before to apply a triangulation filter into the list of suspects and gains sight of two on the same Level. ‘Level 35!’

‘Go, Yassy!’ Helga shouts. ‘Everyone get there!’ she shouts to those in the room, Sending Colin and Clara and the strike teams running for the door and out into the corridor as Zhang runs from the bridge and streaks ahead of them to the stairs.

‘Where on 35?’ Yasmine shouts as they barge people aside, leaping off the platform onto Level 35.

‘Not A. Not B. Not C,’ Sam shouts, making Yasmine frown until she realises what he’s doing then she’s off and running past row A, then B, then C.

‘Not D! Not E. ROW F! ROW F!’ Sam shouts, making her turn into the row to stare down at the seemingly infinite lines of symmetrical cabins.

‘Do that side!’ Yasmine says, running to clamber over the planter to reach the first door on the other side, slamming it with her fists. ‘OPEN UP! OPEN THIS DOOR!’

Sun does the same, kicking the first door on her side. ‘POLICE! OPEN UP!’

Yasmine’s door swishes back. An old lady looking petrified. She curses and runs on. Sun’s door opens. A kid staring up in shock. His mother behind him. She runs on to the next, both of them banging the doors while seeing just how many cabins there are and how long it’s taking and all the while knowing a fifteen-year-old girl has been grabbed and taken, and the pressure builds.

It builds in all of them. Zhang bounds down flight after flight. Colin, Clara, and the others behind. Faiza. Boris and Pasha. Helga clenching her fists in the operations room. Jemima straining to listen. Penny willing them to find her. Jorgey’s face a mask. Abdul and Sven in the shuttle spinning over and over and willing only for that girl to be found, and the silence seems to stretch for eternity until Sam finally calls out.

‘62! Cabin 62!’

Yasmine and Sun turn as one to run as fast as they can while Sam types to see the names of the occupants. ‘Carl and Adam Tucker. Twins,’ he says and types on to find their images and ram them into the facial recognition software he used for Yasmine, which is pushed through the software used to operate the stores’ CCTV. They come back instantly as Sun and Yasmine charge down the row, Yasmine veering off to leap the planter to get to Sun’s side.

Something triggers in Yasmine’s head. Something dark and powerful and ugly and bad and violent. Something held deep down and it’s as though time slows as she reaches the door, and she can’t get her band to the scanner fast enough and then waiting for Sam’s hacking kit to get it open seems to take forever and that pressure builds up inside. Like something rushing up that detonates the second the door swishes back to show two faces turning to look at her.

Two faces the same as each other.

Two men. Identical brothers. Both dark-haired and pale with sunken cheeks and sallow skin.

Two men flushed with a sick rage-fuelled lust just the same as Dmitri had that time.

Two men holding a girl down on the floor.

Inga-Two. Fifteen years old. Her head covered but the UV light shows the stick-figure tattoo on her neck.

All of that seen in an instant. All of it processed in the time it takes for those two men to show even the first surprise at the door opening but by then Yasmine is already moving and charging, her resin-covered knuckles slamming into the closest head, slamming it back into the wall. Then she turns and strikes her fist into the other guy’s nose. A crunch of bone. A spray of blood. The first guy rallies and surges up to launch himself at Yasmine, only for Sun to fly into his side and drive him down with fists slamming into his head over and over as Yasmine does the same to the other one.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Adam Tucker screams and thrashes hard to send Sun flying across the room and over the inflatable sofa. He surges up and gets an arm around Yasmine’s neck then launches himself back to choke her out while Inga-Two curls up on the floor, her clothing nearly all ripped off. Her hands and ankles bound.

Yasmine strains at the pressure on her neck and starts driving her elbows into Adam’s soft gut. She kicks and bucks and wriggles and loosens the arm enough to get her teeth into his flesh and bites hard.

Adam screams and launches her off as his brother Carl kicks out, sending Yasmine rolling over the floor as Sun leaps over the sofa and Zhang grips the doorframe to pivot into the cabin with a rush and a fist slamming into Carl’s lower back and a hand on his hair, wrenching him off his feet to slam down into the floor.

Zhang goes down with him. Driving his knee hard into Carl’s throat. Crushing the bones into his windpipe. Sending blood pouring down into his lungs while slamming his fist into the perp’s face over and over. Yasmine and Sun behind him. Both at work on Adam and the air fills with the thud of meat being hit and men choking, and men gasping, and men begging, but this is the Elfor way and the beatings go on until they both fall silent and only then does Clara reach the door with a flinch at the view.

‘Zhangy!’ she yells out, yanking him back to look down at Carl Tucker drowning in his own blood as Colin, Faiza and the others get past her to wrench Sun and Yasmine off Adam. His face pulverised. His eyes broken. His nose broken. His jaw broken. Ribs. Arms. Legs. Knees. All broken.

‘Ops-Com to Pretty Boy,’ Colin says, staring at the mess as Clara attends to Inga-Two.

‘I got you, sweetie. You safe now. You hear me?’

‘Ops-Com to Pretty Boy!’ Colin says again. ‘Please tell me these are the offenders.’

‘What the fuck! She was in here with them!’ Yasmine yells as Clara carries Inga-Two out of the cabin.

‘It’s them,’ Sam’s quiet voice says. His tone hard. ‘I ran their facial profiles through my CCTV hack. I’ve got them on multiple feeds stalking every victim. They’ve been following them for days.’

‘That’s enough,’ Jorgey says.

‘Yes!’ Helga hisses, jabbing the air with a fist.

‘I’ll do a press release,’ Penny says.

‘Not yet!’ Helga says. ‘Sam? The gangs. How’s that looking? And someone find out if the Feds have left the Ark yet.’

‘And someone wipe this fucking shuttle so we can start the engines!’ Abdul yells.

‘The Feds have left the Ark!’ Colin says into the comms. ‘They’ll be on fast shuttles ready for a rapid-board. We’ve got less than one hour.’

‘Less than one hour people!’ Helga calls, clapping her hands. ‘Sam. Gangs!’

‘I’m trying, but it takes longer because there’s more digi-sigs and the CCTV systems have got . . .’ He falls silent as he looks back at the faces grouped together taken from the CCTV systems around the times and areas of each murder. A sudden thought about the way he found the rape offenders. ‘Give me two mins. I’ve got an idea.’

‘This is control. Comms silence in place for Pretty Boy to work,’ Jemima says, bringing forth a silence that even Sven and Abdul feel loath to break as they grip onto their seats and feel their bellies churning from the zero-G shuttle rolling through space.

Sam frowns at the faces again and thinks about how they’ve established there are two sets of digi-sigs.

One for the registered wristbands. That being the Humility gang.

One for the unregistered. That being the Elforist gang.

A second later he brings up a to-scale 3-D model of the retail zone and runs a program to match digi-sigs to faces from the location pings. A few seconds and he starts getting results, with many of the faces discounted because they were out of the immediate area.

But some start showing up. Some of them at every scene. Only a few to begin with but that’s a starting point – then he spots one face appearing again and again and first identifies the corresponding digi-sig, then pings it ship-wide for a location.

‘Level 10,’ he says into the comms, sending a pulse of energy through everyone else. ‘One of the gangs is operating from Level 10.’

Jorgey and Helga share a look. Both knowing this changes things, because Level 10 is where the powerful, elite and connected live. Which means they have to be sure.

Like really, really sure.

‘How sure are you, Sam?’ Helga asks.

‘If we can get their faces on a camera, I can match them to the evidence I’m pulling off the stores’ CCTV, and the location pings on their wristbands.’

‘Do it,’ Helga says. ‘But be thorough. Put Y and S into Level 10. We need a small camera.’

‘We’ve got tiny lenses we can use,’ Jorgey says, grabbing one from her kit bag.

‘You can’t send them into Level 10 looking like that,’ Penny says. ‘They won’t get past the stair guards.’

‘The stair guards have been disbanded,’ Jorgey says.

‘They’ve got private guards,’ Penny says. ‘I know! Yassy, get to the Level 20 docking port. Abdul’s room. I keep dresses there. Get changed.’

‘Fast as you can,’ Helga says as Colin nods in the Tucker cabin and Sun and Yasmine sprint for the stairwell, both clocking Kristi Carter just ahead of them. They turn fast, once again invisible maintenance workers as Kristi runs past.

‘Folks! This Kristi Carter live from the Humility where I am being told the Humility police have finally arrested the Stairwell Rapists . . .’

Sun and Yasmine slip onto the stairs and run up to Level 20 and out through the lane into the docking port and through to Abdul’s private room. Into the cupboard where Penny’s spare outfits are kept for a quick change. Smart black trousers. Smart black tops. They both strip while gasping for air and wash the blood off their hands and faces then dress fast and rush with digital make-up sticks while peering at their own full-sized 3-D replicas.

Penny runs in to give Sun the tiny camera lens and five minutes later they’re back outside, suited and booted and feeling like shit from the adrenaline already burning off. Rubbery legs. Sore knuckles. Mouths and throats parched. Heads spinning.

‘We’re going up,’ Yasmine says after jabbing her ear.

‘We’ve got about forty minutes,’ Colin says, heading up with the strike teams.

‘We’ll have longer if Sam wipes this shuttle,’ Abdul says.

‘He’s busy, Abdul!’ Helga snaps. ‘Y and S. Listen to me. There’s an eatery on Level 10. Head there first. But you have to get them matched. These people are connected. We have to be sure.’

‘Got it,’ Yasmine says, sharing a nod with Sun as they start up the last flight to Level 10 and a big guy stepping into view.

‘Help you ladies?’ he asks.

‘Dunno. Can you?’ Yasmine asks, clocking the private security uniform and pushing past as he begins to firm his stance. ‘You’re not a stair guard, puta. Put one hand on me and see what happens.’

The guard hesitates, looming over the two attractive well-dressed women staring back at him with a complete absence of fear. ‘We’re just controlling who comes up,’ he says, drawing back.

‘Whatever, Rentacop,’ Yasmine says as Sun smiles sweetly and gently touches the guard’s chest.

‘Got sauce on you,’ Sun says as he looks down and gets flicked in the nose. She smiles and winks and heads out after Yasmine into the ultra-posh Level 10 walkway. ‘Ooh, fancy.’

‘Isn’t it,’ Yasmine says, turning a circle to view their surroundings. Cute little boutique stores. Well-tended flowers and plants in decorative pots placed near comfy padded benches.

They spot the eatery in an open area bordered by expensive boutique stores.

‘Coffee?’ Yasmine asks.

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Sun says, following Yasmine past the posh stores which, they both notice, have not been looted.

And they notice something else too, because this time they are most definitely not invisible.

‘I think we’re standing out,’ Yasmine says.

‘Yeah? What gave it away? Is it that we’re standing out?’ Sun asks as they reach the entrance to the eatery and two small glowing signs.

Please wait to be seated

Strictly No Elforists

They walk into the main building with tables full of patrons who all fall silent to stare at the newcomers while news reports scroll through the air off to one side.

‘Helga has bitten off more than she can chew! It’s obvious she has zero control and zero respect from anybody!’ Mikael Yelstin, Former Vice-Captain of the WS Vladivostok.

‘I’m telling you now. Helga Sveinsson has created a power vacuum and one that she seems happy to exploit for her own ends. The Feds MUST take control.’ Pimply Shribbles. Civil Rights Expert.

‘Well folks, it’s happening,’ Teddy Fox the news anchor says with a smile into the camera. ‘The Fleet Federal Police are right now on their way to forcibly board the worldship Humility and take control from Helga Sveinsson. Let’s go there live. Kristi? Are you there?’

‘I’m here, Teddy,’ Kristi says as Yasmine and Sun watch her outside Cabin 62 with blue and red police tape blocking her from going inside. ‘I don’t know what’s going on. There’s no word from Helga or Abdul or anyone in control over here. They’ve all disappeared, but then this has just happened, and the rumours are that the police have detained the Stairwell Rapists, although the police have yet to confirm anything.’

‘There are no police there!’ Teddy says with a snort. ‘And that’s probably an innocent cabin being attacked by Elforists.’

A look between Yasmine and Sun as they silently acknowledge the power being used against them while thinking about what Helga said. That they need to be sensible here. They need to be sure, even though they’re aware the clock is counting down.

‘Can’t happen fast enough!’ a cultured voice says from a table of young men. ‘Bring in the Feds!’

Yasmine and Sun look over as a flustered waiter rushes in. ‘Excuse me! Can’t you read?’ he demands.

‘No,’ they both reply with such perfect deadpan expressions it makes the waiter falter.

‘Right. Well. We have signs that politely require our guests to wait until they are seated.’

‘We were only joking about not being able to read,’ Sun says. ‘We just didn’t want to wait.’

‘Right,’ the waiter says, clearly uncomfortable. ‘Er, the thing is . . .’

‘It’s okay, Dawkins,’ a voice calls. Deep and refined. The same voice as earlier and coming from the table filled with handsome young men, one of whom dismisses the waiter with a wave of his muscled arm.

‘Sir,’ the waiter says, rushing off with a look of relief.

‘What Dawkins was trying to say, ladies,’ the confident young man says as he strolls over. ‘Is that this establishment does not give service to Elforists.’

‘Are we Elforists?’ Yasmine asks.

He smiles in reply and tilts his head while swiping his band to bathe her in UV light that brings life to the stick-figure tattoos gleaming on her neck.

‘Oh my god! Are you an Elfor?’ Sun asks with mock shock. ‘Honestly. I had no idea.’

‘Sun,’ Yasmine tuts.

‘Shut up. He’s hot,’ Sun side whispers. ‘Hello handsome!’ she adds with a beaming smile. ‘You’ve got really nice arms.’

‘Thank you,’ he says, with the manner of someone very used to receiving compliments, as Yasmine spots a table full of councillors all staring over. Trudy Marlow, Dom Patel, Henry Hendrickson and others from the Anti-Elfor movement who all stood with Jean Schreiber and Pierre Jefferson.

‘Er, you’re still stood there, buddy,’ Yasmine says with a glance back to the young man. ‘Unless you’re buying us a coffee?’

‘He can buy me a coffee alright,’ Sun says.

‘I am not stood,’ the man says with a patronising smile. ‘I am standing.’

‘I don’t get it,’ Yasmine says.

‘I think he just corrected your English,’ Sun says. ‘We stand for standing and sitting and we will not stand for stood and sat . . . And I’m Chinese. Go figure. Did I say I wasn’t an Elforist? Look, no tattoos,’ she adds while craning her neck.

‘Indeed, and you are most welcome,’ the young man says. ‘But alas, your friend . . .’ he trails off with a pained wince.

‘What’s your name?’ Sun asks him.

‘Alistair,’ the young man replies.

‘Alistair. This is Yasmine. Yasmine, this is Alistair. We fear what we don’t know, but now you know each other so we’re all cool. Yes? Groovy? Now do be a sport and call Dawkins back. DAWKINS DEAR! WE ARE IN NEED OF SOME REFRESHMENTS!’

‘What a delightful creature,’ Alistair says, smiling down on Sun. ‘Perhaps we could meet one evening in Neon City for a dalliance?’

‘I love dancing!’ Sun says, earning more laughs from Alistair’s friends

‘I’d pay of course. Whatever your going rate is,’ Alistair adds to more laughs.

‘I don’t charge for dancing, silly,’ Sun says as Yasmine picks a fork up, feeling the weight and marvelling at a world so very different to anything below.

But then she knows that Levels 10 to 5 are where the super-rich all reside in sprawling cabins.

Then she slowly looks around at the hard faces of the wealthy people that kept the Elfors oppressed and sees the open hatred in their gaze. It’s an awful thing to see, too. That such finely dressed, kind-looking people can be so openly hostile.

‘Yeah. So. I’m just a thick Elforist,’ she says looking over to the councillors. ‘But I thought it was illegal to refuse to serve us.’

The councillors glare at her. Everyone does. Apart from Alistair who smiles again with that patronising aura of authority. ‘Well. I am sure you can make all the new laws you want in your lower areas, but without a functioning police force, who will enforce them?’

‘Ooh, he’s smart and hot,’ Sun says.

‘Good point,’ Yasmine says with a slow nod of respect at Alistair. ‘But without a functioning police force you can’t enforce your rules either.’

‘Au contraire,’ Alistair says as he nods over to Dawkins talking to two meaty guards in private security uniforms. ‘We have established our own security measures during these troubles. Now please. It’s time for you to leave.’

‘Or?’ Yasmine asks, smiling up at him with such a show of pure open defiance that it starts triggering Alistair. She can see it happening. That she isn’t bowing to his threats or cowed by his physical size. But then the plan was for Yasmine to draw attention while Sun activates the tiny button camera on her lapel.

‘Okay. It’s online.’ Sam’s voice in their ears. ‘That’s another good image. Sun. Move left a little. I need to see the whole room.’

Sun watches on as Alistair’s expression changes from charming to dark and glowering as he leans towards Yasmine.

‘This is not your area. And as beautiful as you are, you are still a filthy, diseased Elforist whore that needs to leave before that pretty face can’t earn you any more credits.’

A fist to the throat makes him gag and gasp, and a hand to the back of his head slams him down on the table, breaking his nose as Yasmine stabs the heavy silver fork through his hand.

Except Yasmine doesn’t do that because Helga said they need to use sense and be sure, and so instead she stares up as Sun shifts position to give the camera lens the view needed. Taking in Alistair then his table of cronies as the silence stretches out for a second longer. Broken only when Alistair, with his generations of superior breeding, smiles sweetly at both Sun and Yasmine, and clocks the two big guards looming in the doorway.

‘Bye bye, Elfor rats,’ one of other young men at Alistair’s table calls with a little wave.

‘See you in Neon!’ one of them adds to more sniggers.

‘How much was it again?’ another asks. ‘Five creds for both? Bargain!’

‘Oh, and they even tried to dress nicely,’ another says in a mock sad voice as Sun and Yasmine share a look amid the humiliating jibes and laughter. Two young women dressed nicely yet still can’t hide the poverty they grew up in. It’s in their genes. In their DNA. It’s who they are, and no amount of fine clothes or nice make-up will ever change that.

‘That’s him!’ Sam’s voice in their ears. ‘The big guy. Alistair.’

‘Sam, are you sure?’ Colin asks.

‘Absolutely. I’ve got the data right here. His digi-sig was pressing into Jessie One-Ear when she died, and that one behind him with the cut on his nose. His digi-sig was on top of Skinny Jimmy Lankworth when he died. That whole table was there. All of those men. That’s the Humility gang.’

Yasmine finally shows a reaction and frowns up at Alistair, prompting him to cease his insults as he takes in her beauty. ‘I knew Jessie One-Ear,’ she says quietly, but her voice carries clear.

‘Damn it!’ Colin shouts in their ears. ‘Yassy’s gonna go! Clara!’

‘I’m running, sugar!’

‘I know her mom,’ Yasmine adds, staring into Alistair’s eyes. ‘I used to babysit for her. And I knew Skinny Jimmy. Colly took him in when his mom died. I used to feed him. I knew all of them,’ Yasmine says as Sun tenses. ‘You killed my friends,’ Yasmine whispers. Trying to see guilt and remorse but seeing neither.

‘My dear,’ Alistair whispers as he leans in as though going for a kiss. ‘They were not your friends. Elforists aren’t people, you see. And trust me,’ he adds with his hand closing around the handle of a knife. ‘They won’t be the last.’

A fist to the throat makes him gag and gasp, and a hand to the back of his head slams him down on the table, breaking his nose as Yasmine stabs the heavy silver fork through his hand.

‘SHIT!’ Sun yells. ‘YASSY’S STABBED HIS HAND!’ she adds as she grabs a heavy porcelain bowl to launch at the two guards running into the room as the eatery erupts.

‘PUTA!’ Yasmine yells, vaulting up onto the table to use Alistair’s head as a springboard to launch herself at his friends who are already on their feet and moving towards her.

The two sides meet; a strong lad takes Yasmine’s impact but stays on his feet, twisting to throw her off as Sun stabs his thigh with a fork and Yasmine slams her forehead into his nose.

The guy drops and the rest of the table charge at the two women as the uniformed guards stride into the brawl. One of them grabs a handful of Sun’s hair before she bites down on the guard’s arm.

He screams. She screams. Everyone screams, and Sun gets a knee into the guard’s groin to make him let go so she can smash another bowl over the head of the guy punching Yasmine.

‘KILL THAT FUCKING BITCH!’ Alistair roars with a grunt of pain as he yanks the fork free from his hand and charges across the room, lifting it ready to drive into Yasmine’s neck.

He screams with murderous rage then yelps as a big hand grabs hold of his wrist and snaps it with a dull crack.

‘What you gonna do, sugar?’ Clara asks as he drops to his knees with a gasp. ‘Huh? You gonna stab someone else? With this?’ She plucks the fork free as one of the uniformed guards flies past after being hit by Boris as more Elforist bodyguards deputised as cops steam into the mêlée.

Bodies go down. Arms get broken. Legs and noses. Jaws and skulls. Voltage sticks press into backs and sides and fists slam into skulls as the Humility gang gets withered and ruined to fall broken and hurt.

Then it’s done. Over. The Humility gang is nothing more than pumped-up entitled kids, mangled and sore. Some of them unconscious. Two of them dead. But it had to be this way. It had to be done the Elfor way, because Yasmine was right.

They looked weak.

‘You’ll regret this,’ another cultured voice says as Colin and the others turn to see Dom Patel and a couple of the councillors still there and watching. ‘The Feds are coming,’ he adds, lifting a hand to point at Colin, then at Clara, then at Boris and Pasha.

‘Councillor Patel? I am arresting you and your colleagues for aiding and abetting,’ Colin says. ‘Detain them!’

‘Aiding and abetting what?’ Dom Patel demands.

‘Whatever I can find,’ Colin growls, leaning in close to him. ‘And I suggest you shut the fuck up before I shove you off the platform into Neon City.’

A buzz on his band and Colin steps away to discreetly read the message with a grimace. ‘The Feds are halfway. We’ve got thirty minutes left.’

‘That’s enough time though, right?’ Jorgey says in the operations room. ‘We release a press statement saying we’ve got the rapists and one of the gangs. That’s got to be enough!’

Helga shakes her head. Knowing it won’t be. ‘We need the other gang.’

‘The other gang?’ Jorgey asks as everyone else listens on in shock. ‘You mean the Elforist gang? Are you being serious? You want to send the police into the Elfors? Do you know what will happen if we do that?’

‘We have to show control,’ Helga says. ‘And that has to mean we control the Elfors.’

‘Fuck me!’ Jorgey cries out, throwing her hands up. ‘How? With what? With who? And we’ve got less than half an hour!’

‘Yassy, can you hear me?’ Helga asks.

‘Yeah, go on.’

‘Get down into the Elfors. We need to identify that gang.’

Yasmine hesitates, sharing a look with Clara and Zhang and Sun. Her chest heaving. Her mind running fast on what that means. To send police into the Elfors.

‘Control means the whole ship,’ Helga says to all of them listening. ‘It means all of them. All of us. No gangs. No rapists. We need to show the fleet we can stop it all.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Yasmine says. ‘Sam, you got a location?’

‘No, the access data points don’t work down there. But I’ve got a face I can send you.’

‘Send it,’ Yasmine says. ‘How long have we got?’

‘Less than twenty-five minutes,’ Jorgey says.

‘That’s not enough,’ Yasmine says.

‘It’s all we’ve got,’ Helga says.

‘It’ll be longer if someone wipes this fucking shuttle so we can start the engines,’ Abdul says.

Helga draws breath. On the front line once again. The queen amidst the battle. Resolute. Determined. Terrified. Exhilarated. Everything at once. Every emotion all at the same time. ‘Sam, wipe the shuttle . . . Do more than wipe it . . . Rename it . . . And Yassy, find that other gang!’

12

Everything happening at once with everything to play for and everything to lose, and Sun and Yasmine slip out of the posh eatery on Level 10 as Kristi Carter runs past.

‘Folks! I can see inside the eatery where several young men are being cuffed and arrested . . . I don’t know what is going on today, but it feels as though Helga Sveinsson is finally taking control.’

* * *

Dil stands in the walkway alongside Sven’s Eatery watching the news feed and the guards cuffing the Humility gang. Dorka next to him. Janey Dead Leg. Mild Marko and Erik the Rolls.

‘It’s not just Helga’s ship,’ a voice says from the entrance to the lane as those inside all turn to see Fast Hands Ferdy standing at the head of more Elforists. Twinkle Toes Tommy. Sally Mole-On-Her-Nose. Willy the Rake. Robby the Blind. Carla Big Lips. Honey the Money and Lick Lick Suck. Dancers and servers. Dealers and pushers. Bruisers and bouncers, and all of them with stick-figure tattoos gleaming on necks and arms and hands.

All of them with everything to play for and everything to lose.

A moment in time as Dil nods and sets off to lead the way with every single person standing from their chairs to go after him.

* * *

Helga knows that something like a coup d’état – and there’s no mistaking that’s exactly what she did by raising an army and deposing Pierre – causes a significant threat to that control, because such a sudden loss of order enables people to become the real mouth-frothing, looting, rioting, fighting, clubbing, stabbing mobs they were only ever one or two steps away from becoming.

* * *

Sun and Yasmine run down the stairs to Level 20 and into the docking port to Abdul’s private room, because there’s no way in hell they can slip into the Elfors discreetly while dressed in smart business suits.

Which means wasting more minutes.

Minutes they don’t have as the fast Federal shuttles fly across space. Six of them, loaded with highly -trained tactical teams. Men and women in black armour with shields and voltage sticks. Each vessel assigned to an airlock. Each team briefed to use maximum force and drive the Elforists back down the stairs.

* * *

Helga said no when Jorgey suggested they bring Commander Drago back to help. Because it would have weakened her perception of control.

And that’s also why she let it get really bad before she stepped in. But it had to be that way, because Helga wanted control, and not some weak, barely-in-charge type of control.

She wanted control.

Brinkmanship, they used to call it on Earth. When politicians pushed situations to the very edge before stepping in.

It took nerve and gumption. But she had the code, and Helga knew that the only way to hold onto it was by taking complete control, not only of her ship, but of the situation.

* * *

‘How long?’ Drago calls from the rear of the lead Fed shuttle.

‘Twenty minutes,’ the pilot yells back.

‘Twenty minutes!’ Drago calls to his troops. ‘Make ready! We will be going in hot!’ He drops down as though to adjust his boot strap and sends a discreet message.

* * *

‘Twenty minutes!’ Colin says into the comms on the Humility.

‘Control to Y and S. Update please?’ Jemima asks, her voice still calm and smooth but as caught up as everyone else.

‘Changing,’ Yasmine says. ‘But you make sure Clara’s ready cos this shit will go off.’

‘Control to Y. Understood. Position and status check for sound off. Op-Com?

‘In situ and ready,’ Colin replies as those in the operations room look over to the live feeds showing each unit coming online and Colin and Zhang tucked up against a door at the back of the Neon City platform.

‘Roger that. Strike team Alpha?’

‘We’re in situ,’ Clara replies. Her normal smile now gone, she stares and waits with grim determination at the head of her small team in the old stair guard staffroom behind the door being leant on by Colin and Zhang.

‘Strike team Bravo?’

‘In situ and ready,’ Boris’s deep voice comes back as the live feeds open to show his squad in a public toilet by the next stairwell along.

‘Confirmed, Bravo. Strike team Charlie?’

‘In situ and ready!’ Pasha’s voice comes through as the feed opens to show him with Faiza and a squad in a back office on the third stairwell leading into the Elfors.

* * *

‘We’re ready,’ Yasmine says as another feed opens up and everyone else watches them run out of the Level 20 VIP docking port. Both of them dressed in coveralls tied off at the waist with plain black tops. Dull colours. Nothing shiny. Nothing fancy. Nothing that catches the eye.

They hit the stairwell and start down.

Down down down.

Down all the way past the spot where Johnson Patel was killed. Past the spot where Ugly Frank was killed. Past the spot where Harry Wetlock was killed.

‘Almost there,’ Yasmine gasps.

‘Assets coming towards you, Op-Com,’ Jemima says.

‘Understood,’ Colin says with a filthy grimace as he reads the message coming in on his system.

Drago

10 mins out. I can’t message again. If it comes to it me and four others will stand with you. Good luck.

Colin shows it to Zhang who then shares it with Jorgey who opens it up in the operations room.

‘Drago’s on our side,’ Penny says with a rush of words. ‘And four others. That’s good, right?’

Jorgey shakes her head as she closes the message. ‘There’s nearly seventy of them coming. We don’t stand a chance. Captain, as your chief of police, I recommend you board the shuttle with Abdul. I’ll stay and hold them off as long as I can,’ Jorgey adds, drawing her voltage stick to flick the settings to maximum as the stick whines with charge.

‘Yeah, that’s not really an option,’ Sven’s dull voice says. ‘Seeing as we’re still spinning out of control.’

‘Sam! I thought you were cleaning the shuttle,’ Helga says.

‘I am!’ Sam says, surrounded by dozens of screens and feeds on the bridge. ‘I’m re-setting the transponder to wipe its digital identity . . . and it’s done!’

‘Thank god,’ Abdul mutters from the co-pilot’s seat in the shuttle. ‘Get the engines on, Sven.’

‘Not a pilot,’ Sven says, pressing a virtual button as the interior lights grow brighter.

‘Sven!’ Abdul snaps.

‘I’m looking I’m looking,’ Sven says, prodding and swiping things while trying to remember his pilot course, which he completed a very long time ago on a completely different system to this.

And on the stairwell, Yasmine slows just before reaching the Neon City platform and jabs her ear as everyone else winces once more from the blast of noise.

‘Stop doing that!’ Jorgey snaps.

‘Whatever. Sam? You said you had a face?’ Yasmine asks.

‘My face?’ Sam asks with a confused look while pausing amid his many, many screens.

‘The Elfor gang! You had a face to send me.’

‘Oh, a face!’ he says, spinning around a few times to try and spot the virtual images he had stacked and ready, now lost within the mass of too many feeds. ‘I’m looking I’m looking.’

* * *

‘Sven!’

‘I’m still looking!’ Sven says on the shuttle as he hits a button and the drinks machine in the back whirs into self-cleaning mode. ‘Wow. This is hard. So anyone got an idea on how you start a shuttle?’

‘Look for a button marked start,’ Zhang mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose as Sven frowns and peers back at the console to see a big red virtual button marked with the word start.

‘Cheers, Zhang! I got it.’

‘What? No way,’ Zhang says. Sven presses the button and the shuttle comes to life, engines firing up.

‘Oh yes! That’s more like it,’ Sven says as he starts firing the burners to control the roll.

While in the lead Federal shuttle, the uniformed pilot frowns at the signal that just popped up on the console in front of her. ‘You seeing that?’ she asks the co-pilot. He peers over to do the same.

‘Who is that?’ he asks.

‘Shuttle 2 to Shuttle 1. You seeing that signal?’ the pilot from the second shuttle asks over their comms.

‘Shuttle 1, this is Shuttle 3. We’re seeing a signal for an unknown vessel.’

‘This is Shuttle 1. Stand by. Shuttle 1 to Ark Control. We’re seeing an unknown signal ahead of us. Confirm identity please.’

‘Shuttle 1, this is Ark Control. We’re seeing it but cannot confirm identity.’

‘Roger that, Ark Control. I’ll jump over to mains comms . . .’

‘What the hell is it doing?’ the co-pilot asks, watching the signal bouncing up and down and left and right.

* * *

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Abdul asks, gripping his seat as the starboard burners power on to make them roll one way before Sven over-compensates to send the shuttle rolling over the other way, while the aft and forward burners send it up and down. ‘Sven!’

‘And again. Not a pilot,’ Sven says trying to remember his lessons to control a roll. ‘Burn on. Burn off,’ he mutters.

‘Try the button marked anti-roll,’ Zhang suggests sarcastically as Sven pulls his head back to peer at the instrument panel and the virtual button off to one side marked anti-roll.

‘Got it! Well done, Zhang. Did you do the course too?’

‘No frickin’ way,’ Zhang says as Sven hits the button and the shuttle’s AI system kicks in with burners firing all over the place until finally, with a jarring jolt, it levels out.

‘I think my face fell off,’ Abdul says, stretching his mouth as the G-force pull ceases.

‘Sam, the face!’ Yasmine says in a tone of urgency that makes Sam swipe through the way-too-many feeds open all around him. Then he spots it and with a gasp of relief he grabs one and sends it to Yasmine.

‘Got it,’ she says, opening a still image of a face captured in a freeze-frame. Blurred and dark.

‘Any good?’ Sun asks.

Yasmine nods with a sinking feeling inside. ‘Yeah. I know who it is. How long have we got?’

‘About five minutes,’ Colin says as a voice blasts out over the general comms on board Abdul’s shuttle, to be heard by everyone else.

‘Unknown vessel. This is Fleet Federal Police Shuttle 1. You are not identified. Identify yourself now . . . Unknown vessel! Identify yourself!’

‘We’re going in,’ Yasmine says.

‘No!’ Abdul shouts. ‘Do not enter yet!’

‘What the fuck?’ Yasmine asks, pausing with Sun at the top of the last flight of stairs.

‘You’ll get sealed in if the Feds board,’ Abdul says. ‘Wait for a minute.’

‘We don’t have a minute!’ Helga says.

‘They’re less than five minutes out,’ Colin says. ‘Y and S still need to get in and make the identification.’

‘No!’ Abdul shouts.

‘Unknown vessel! This is Fleet Federal Police Shuttle 1. Identify yourself now . . . Unknown vessel! Identify yourself!’

‘Abdul, we don’t have any time left,’ Helga says. ‘Yassy, get down there!’

‘I said no!’ Abdul shouts. ‘She doesn’t take a fucking step into the Elfors. Do you hear me? Not one fucking step!’

‘Unknown vessel! You are breaching Fleet Federal Law by not displaying an identity signal. Identify yourself now!’

‘Fuck this,’ Abdul snaps, reaching out to open the comms. ‘Or fucking what?’ he yells into the main channel. ‘What you gonna do? Shoot us with cannons?’

The pilot in Shuttle 1 blanches at the strength of the voice and glances to the co-pilot who shrugs, while behind them Drago frowns and cocks his head.

‘What are we going to do?’ the co-pilot asks. ‘Er, Ark Control?’

‘Yeah, you run back to mommy,’ Abdul growls into the main channel as shuttles across the fleet switch over to listen to the open network.

‘Unknown vessel. We will track you. And we will take action. Identify yourself now!’ the pilot on Shuttle 1 orders.

‘What action are you going to take?’ Abdul asks, his voice low and hard as he motions for Sven to start moving the shuttle.

‘They’re moving,’ the co-pilot says, as shuttle captains across the entire fleet bring up their feeds to see the lone signal moving out towards the cluster of six Federal shuttles heading towards the worldship Humility. ‘Who the hell are they?’

‘Who are you?!’ the pilot demands.

‘Unidentified Shuttle. This is Ark Control. Do not proceed on your current heading. Repeat. Do not proceed on your current heading.’

‘Fuck you,’ Abdul snarls, his voice blasting out on comms in every shuttle.

‘We really doing this?’ Sven asks.

‘You said it,’ Abdul replies. ‘Elforists don’t walk away from a fight . . .’

‘Elforists?’ the co-pilot asks. ‘Have the Elforists got a shuttle? How did they get a shuttle?’

‘Who do you think flies most of the shuttles in this fleet?’ Sven asks as Drago’s mouth twitches with a smile. Helga freezes; Colin and Zhang do the same. Yasmine and Sun on the stairs and Sam on the bridge running over to the window to see the shuttle flying away from the Humility, impossibly tiny against the rest of the fleet. And there. Further out. Six larger Fleet Federal Police shuttles coming in fast.

What a sight to see. What a thing to witness, and it sends a thrill through his chest and a sudden urge, as he runs back to the screen he used to wipe the transponder.

‘Unknown vessel. This is Ark Control. Cease your actions now!’

‘Or what? You don’t have weapons.’ Abdul says.

‘We have drones. We will launch one to strike and disable you. I say again. Cease your actions! Last chance, unknown vessel!

‘It’s changing!’ the co-pilot says, as all the pilots and the staff on the Ark look to their screens to see the signal of the unknown vessel blinking green to signify a change.

Sven and Abdul do the same. Both looking to the console unit to see their own signal flashing as the name changes to glow bright and proud as they both grin.

‘Shuttle 1. Ark Control,’ Sven says with his aft burners glowing blue as he lowers into their direct path. ‘This is the shuttle Elfor One. Repeat. This is the shuttle Elfor One. Standing our ground against an oppressive army being sent to invade our sovereign vessel. Suggest you turn the fuck around and fuck off!’

A cheer comes back from Elforist pilots flying cargo and passengers across the fleet hearing the words and reading a shuttle name they never thought they’d see. Elfor One. Right there on the screen. Loud and proud and defiant.

‘Elfor One. Last warning,’ the Ark Controller orders. ‘We will launch a drone at you!’

‘You are not boarding my ship!’ Abdul says.

‘You do not have control of your ship!’ the Ark Controller replies. ‘The boarding is sanctioned. You will stand down now!’

‘Crazy bastard!’ the pilot in Shuttle 1 says, seeing the Elfor One with her naked eye, lowering unsteadily into their flight path. The shuttle tilting left and right as Sven tries to remember how to fly the damned thing. ‘Elfor One. This is Shuttle 1. What the hell are you hoping to achieve? You cannot stop six vessels. We will board the Humility. What the hell is that?’ she asks outright as she and her co-pilot, and every other pilot and co-pilot, duck from a larger cargo vessel flying very close and very fast over their heads. The aft burners filling their view for a second until it swooshes off and up to turn hard and bank, lowering down into a path directly alongside the Elfor One.

‘Ever played shuttle-chicken, motherfuckers?’ the cargo pilot calls over the main comms.

‘Nessy!’ Abdul shouts, recognising the voice.

‘Elfor till I die, bitches!’ the cargo pilot calls out over the comms with a frown at the way the Elfor One keeps dropping and lifting while tilting left and right. ‘Er, you okay there, Elfor One?’

‘I make porridge,’ Sven mutters, trying to get control.

‘There’s still only two of them,’ the co-pilot says as Drago flinches at another cargo vessel shooting past overhead.

‘Elfor One. This is Dilly Dally Dolly coming in hot on your starboard side,’ the pilot says, smooth and deep as the vessel swings out wide to loop in and settle alongside Sven and Nessy. ‘I make that three, Shuttle 1. Still wanna pick that fight?’

‘It’ll be four in a minute!’ another pilot calls over the comms, burning hard and fast to break off from her flight path and head towards the Humility.

‘I’m in!’ another voice.

‘Elfors, baby! I’m on my way!’

‘Abdul you crazy puta! I’m burning on!’

Voices calling out. Pilots across the fleet snapping their AI systems off to take manual control with a call to arms that fills the comms network.

‘Elforists don’t back down, Shuttle 1,’ Abdul calls, before switching over to the other channel. ‘Yassy, go now! Get it done!’

* * *

‘On it,’ Yasmine says, bursting off to run down the stairs with Sun, and everyone in the operations room watches the feed showing the shanty town stretching off as far as the eye can see.

Old cabins stacked high with broken ladders and broken gantries running between them.

They watch as Yasmine and Sun step from the stairs past a puddle of dirty water formed under a leaking pipe. A kid sitting in the dank pool, swinging a dead rat around by the tail.

‘Don’t damage it. Sell it to Pete the Pelt,’ Yasmine says as the kid looks at the rat and slowly stands up. ‘Tell him Yassy sent you. Tell him you want food. To eat,’ she adds, motioning eating something as the kid toddles off while the women grimace at the dirt on his bare legs.

It doesn’t get any better when they delve into the nearest lanes. Men and women weathered and old before their time. Emaciated and rangy. They pass busted cabin doors that never get fixed because there’s nothing inside to protect. Just bundles of old rags on the floor used as beds.

Yasmine leads them on and out into a lane that seems wider, with slightly better cabins. People wearing clothes rather than rags, albeit old and faded and patchworked in a way the fashion stores in the retail zone will never be able to match.

‘Yassy!’ someone says. A woman with a kind face that lights up on seeing them.

‘Mildred!’ Yasmine says, offering a wave as she tries to rush on.

‘I heard you’re working for Abdul now. What’s happening about these murders then? What’s Abdul doing about it?’

‘It’s a different world,’ Jorgey remarks, breaking the silence in the operations room as they watch the same thing happen a few times with people calling out to Yasmine and asking about this and that. About the murders and if they really are free to go up top.

‘Hang on a second,’ Yasmine says, guiding Sun under the lip of a shack roof while the others in the operations room frown.

‘It’s going to rain,’ Penny says as they look back to the feed to see water suddenly pelting down, with Sun and Yasmine pressing back against the wall.

‘Stinks!’ Sun says, gagging at the smell. ‘Jesus. We never had that in the Hutongs.’

It passes quickly and they step out to walk on through the winding lanes.

‘We’re close,’ Yasmine says quietly as she walks into a wider area, with a rush of memories inside at the sight of Dmitri’s cabin ahead of them.

‘Control to all units. Maintain silence and wait update from Y and S.’

‘Yassy!’ a girl calls out, clambering to her feet with a big grin. Pretty, but with hard eyes and a face marked with bruises. Young too. Nineteen. Twenty tops. Others with her. The same age. The same look. Lean and hard. Bruised and marked from recent brawls.

‘Hey, Donna,’ Yasmine says. ‘You good?’

‘Yeah, yeah. Good,’ Donna says, coming in close for Sun to see Donna’s pupils the size of dinner plates.

‘She’s off her face on Green Wizard,’ Penny says in the operations room.

‘Dmitri’s stash,’ Donna says as her crew gather closer, and she motions to Dmitri’s old cabin behind them. ‘Ain’t no one seen him. Someone said he got mulched on the Beijing or sommit. You heard about it?’

‘Yeah, something like that,’ Yasmine says. ‘You taking his cabin over then?’

Donna shrugs and stretches her mouth – a side-effect of the drugs – as she suddenly peers sharply right. ‘Fuckin wizards,’ she mutters then looks back at Yasmine. ‘You good then, Yassy?’

‘I’m good, Donna. Just going to see Colly.’

‘Yeah,’ Donna says, as though losing the thread of the conversation, before smiling broadly. ‘We took Dmitri’s cabin over. He got killed on the Beijing, but we ain’t like him, Yassy. We’re giving security here now. But you’re okay. You can come anytime, Yassy.’

‘Cheers, Donna,’ Yasmine says with a hint of heart-breaking sadness in her eyes as Donna finally clocks Sun.

‘Who are you then?’ she demands.

‘Sun,’ Sun says, knowing enough from growing up in the Hutongs to read the situation and avoid any stupid jokes. ‘Just moved over and Yassy said I could meet Colly. But cool place though.’

‘Sam?’ Jorgey prompts in the operations room. ‘We need confirmation from the facial software. Is that the Elfor gang?’

‘It’s running,’ Sam replies.

‘Yeah. So, I’m Fat Donna then,’ Donna tells Sun. ‘Cos I used to be fat but now I’m a skinny bitch. I said they should call me Skinny Donna.’

‘There’s already a Skinny Donna,’ Yasmine says.

‘But Skinny Donna got that name,’ Donna says as she suddenly peers left. ‘Fuckin wizards again.’

‘Why’s it taking so long?’ Jorgey asks.

‘It’s the drugs,’ Sam says. ‘It’s making their facial features all different,’ he adds as Sun and Yasmine spot Donna and her crew gurning from the drugs in their systems.

‘You wanna score then?’ Donna asks.

‘Nah. I’m good,’ Yasmine says.

‘Yeah? Why not?’ Donna asks.

‘I don’t do well on Wizard.’

‘We got snow,’ Donna says. ‘And yellow.’

‘Honestly. I’m alright,’ Yasmine says. ‘I’ll go see Colly and say hi.’

Donna nods and looks ready to step away but stands her ground, blocking their path. ‘You turned into a cunt then?’

‘Really, Donna?’ Yasmine asks, giving her a look. ‘You’re off your face. Go and sleep.’

‘I’m not!’ Donna says in a tone like a sulky teenager as Sun clocks the swinging moods.

‘Sam!’ Jorgey orders as the strike teams and everyone else hold position with strained expressions.

‘We can’t hold these shuttles off for long,’ Abdul cuts in.

‘They’re too high,’ Sam says. ‘All of their facial muscles are going mad.’

‘I wouldn’t mind a bit,’ Sun says, trying to buy time.

‘Who are you?’ Donna demands.

‘Sun. We just met.’

‘You calling me a fucking liar?’

‘Jesus, Donna, put that away,’ Yasmine says as Donna pulls a blade out of her waistband.

‘Who the fuck is she?’ Donna asks, glaring at Sun.

‘You just met her!’ Yasmine says.

‘There’s fuckin wizards everywhere!’ Donna yells, twisting left and right before smiling back at Yasmine. ‘Yassy! You hear about Dmitri? I got his cabin. You wanna see it?’

‘God no!’ Yasmine says.

‘Why? Cos you a posh cunt now? You fucking Abdul then?’

‘That’s gross! Jesus. You lot need to stop the drugs for a day or two,’ Yasmine calls out as she spots another lad holding a knife. ‘Krakin! Put that thing down.’

‘I can’t, Yassy. They’s gonna come down again,’ he says while holding the knife out as though ready to stab someone.

‘Who is?’ Yasmine asks.

‘The fucking cunts that killed Jessie.’

‘Oh shit. That’s gonna go bad,’ Penny says. ‘Yassy, you need to leave.’

‘You hear about that, Yassy?’ Donna asks.

‘I found her body,’ Yasmine says as Donna flinches. ‘And Skinny Jimmy. I found him too.’

‘You found both of them?’ Donna asks, with a flash of the shrewd mind Yasmine knows the girl has when she’s not off her face on Wizard. ‘Jessie One-Ear? And Skinny Jim. You found them?’

‘I just said I did.’

‘How?’ Donna asks as the threat becomes overt. ‘You a Fed now then, Yassy? You working for the Feds?’

‘Yassy! You need to get out. Tell her to get out,’ Penny calls, motioning Jemima.

‘Wait!’ Helga orders. ‘Yassy’s got this,’ she says as Yasmine hears the words in her ear and looks to Donna.

‘What did you just say?’ Yasmine asks, half-smiling with a look of confused disbelief.

‘I said how’d you find both of them?’ Donna demands with spittle flying from her lips as the mood sours fast and her crew start edging closer. ‘You’s a Fed now, huh? Huh? You’s a Fed now, Yassy? HUH?’

‘Yeah. I joined the police. They gave me this,’ Yasmine says, sticking a middle finger up.

‘Fuck, Yassy,’ Penny whispers.

‘She knows what she’s doing,’ Helga says.

Jorgey shoots her a look as Colin and Zhang listen intently. Clara the same. Boris and Faiza and their teams all poised and hardly breathing.

‘What is wrong with you, Donna?’ Yasmine asks as Sun wills the crew to stop gurning and twitching so the facial recognition software can do its job. ‘Yeah, I found Jessie One-Ear and Skinny Jimmy. I knew them when they were kids. Same as I knew you.’

‘Don’t fucking try that shit on me,’ Donna snaps with another flash of angry intelligence, ‘I knew your fucking granny or whatever. Fuck that. You left, Yassy. You sucked someone’s cock and fucked off.’

‘Watch your mouth,’ Yasmine snaps.

‘Or what?’ Donna shouts. Fronting up with the knife in her hand. ‘Don’t think you’s special just cos you’re Yassy. Ain’t no one special now, Yassy. I’ll stab you up, bitch.’

‘I’m not fighting you with a knife, Donna. Jesus. Use this,’ Yasmine says, tapping her own head.

‘You callin’ me stupid, Yassy? You know I ain’t stupid. I’m taking this turf. Fuck Dmitri. He got killed. His crew are gone. I’m in charge now so you be . . . You be fucking POLITE cos everyone getting stabbed up, Yassy. I’ll stab you up! I WILL! And Krakin’ll stab this little Fed bitch up,’ Donna says, in full rage as she pushes her chest into Yasmine then into Sun, making them step back as the situation becomes dire and even the Elforists in the area start to wilt back into shadows.

‘Yassy, you need to get out,’ Abdul orders over the comms.

‘I’m CO for this operation. I’m ending it,’ Colin’s voice comes next. Sun looks at Yasmine waiting for the nod to flee, but Yassy stands her ground as Donna looks ready to kill them both.

‘Yassy! Get the fuck out of there!’ Penny shouts.

‘Let her work!’ Helga orders, bringing silence. ‘Yassy, get an admission. Sam’s system isn’t working.’

And there it is. The brinkmanship on show once more; Helga pushing it to the very edge with her whole being now invested in the play at hand.

Yasmine feels it too. The fear inside of people high on drugs waving knives around, and she’s seen plenty being killed from exactly that. But she doesn’t turn and flee.

‘You been stabbing people up then, Donna?’ Yasmine asks as Penny and the others freeze at the direct question.

‘Everyone getting all stabbed up!’ Donna says sulkily.

‘Yeah? You doing it too, Donna? Who you stabbing up? You the big girl now? You the number one, huh? HUH?’

‘I will fucking stab you!’ Donna says, lunging in as Yasmine tenses but holds her ground. Donna pulls back at the last second. ‘They’s fucking started it, Yassy. THEY STARTED IT. They killed Larry then went for Jessie and she’s my mate then they did Skinny Jim. He was like my brother, Yassy. THEY FUCKING STARTED IT! And that fucker. That fucking Harry Wetlock. Fuck him. FUCK HIM!’

‘She’s named one of the victims killed by Elforists,’ Janey says.

‘The name is all over the press,’ Jorgey replies. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’

‘Keep going, Yassy,’ Helga urges quietly.

‘And that other fucker. Johnson Patel. FUCK HIM!’ Donna screams, the veins pushing through the skin on her forehead, her spittle hitting Yasmine’s face as Donna’s knuckles turn white from gripping the knife. ‘You get me, Yassy? They got stabbed up. They thought they was special. They ain’t special. You ain’t special, and who the fuck is this?’ she shouts, fronting up to Sun. ‘You a Fed too, bitch? I don’t know you!’

‘It’s not enough, Yassy,’ Helga urges as everyone else feels the tension ramp even higher.

‘Fuck me,’ Sun says as Donna snaps her head over.

‘Who you talking to?’ Donna demands, sensing something is wrong.

‘She ain’t an Elfor,’ Krakin says, nodding at Sun.

‘Who is she?’ one of the other crew asks as the situation starts spiralling, but that tension in the crew does something else. It makes them sharpen up and focus for a few seconds and finally stop twitching and gurning.

‘It’s working!’ Sam says. ‘Keep them like that.’

‘You know what,’ Yasmine says as Donna points the blade at her. ‘Dmitri was a puta, but this? I don’t know what this is. You’re all bladed up and off your faces. How many people have you even killed? Do you even know?’

‘Five!’ Donna says.

‘Fuck off. You’re full of shit,’ Yasmine says.

‘FIVE!’ Donna yells as Krakin moves in closer.

‘That Harry cunt,’ Krakin boasts, angry and high. ‘I got him in the fucking neck!’ Krakin yells while jabbing his knife in replay of the murder.

‘And I got him in the gut then we did that other cunt,’ Donna says as the others all boast about joining in. ‘That Patel cunt. I got him right in the fucking heart! RIGHT THERE!’ she yells, thumping her own chest.

‘And there’s your admission,’ Jorgey says.

‘Yes!’ Sam says at the same time as his facial recognition software finally gets a firm read. ‘We’ve got them! Confirmed at the scene of multiple murders on Humility residents.’

‘GO!’ Jorgey orders, jabbing her hand towards Jemima.

‘Control to all units. It’s a green light for a go go go!’

The teams start pouring out of doors while Yasmine listens to Donna and Krakin reel off the names of the people they killed and shakes her head at the awful sadness of it all. They’re just kids. Just stupid angry kids pumped up on drugs and left to run feral.

‘Yassy. We should go meet Colly,’ Sun says, hearing the go order in her ear.

‘You need help, Donna,’ Yasmine says searching Donna’s eyes for remorse or guilt, the same as she did with Alistair. And for a second, she thinks she can see it, but it’s just the drugs.

‘Yeah. So, you hear about Dmitri then?’ Donna asks a second later. The rage simply gone like a switch was flicked in her head.

Yasmine nods. ‘Yeah. I did. You be good, Donna. I gotta go.’

‘Bye, Yassy,’ she replies with the same heart-breaking smile she used to have when she was a kid. ‘Say hi to Colly.’

‘I will,’ Yasmine says, hearing a distant shout as Clara leads her squad off the closest stairwell and starts running into the lanes with the first ever police strike team to set foot in the Elfors since the fleet left Earth, and so with a last smile full of sadness she turns away from Donna to slip away and out of sight.

Except it doesn’t quite work that way when they hear a yell.

‘THE FEDS ARE COMING!’

‘Oh shit,’ Penny says in the operations room.

‘Oh shit,’ Yasmine says.

‘She’s a fucking Fed!’ Krakin yells as Donna slashes the air in front of Sun who freezes for a split second at the blade coming towards her, before Donna trips over her own feet and sails by with a yell.

‘Move, you idiot!’ Yasmine shouts, barging Sun aside and ripping a cloth from a line to shove over Donna’s head. A foot to her arse and Donna sails into Krakin.

‘STAB ’EM UP!’ Donna screams.

Sun and Yasmine tripping over empty beakers and old crates, and in those last few seconds before the Elfor gang can claim another two victims Sam types in a blur while around him Penny and Janey yell for Yassy and Sun to move while Jemima urges the strike teams to get there fast.

But it’s too late and Donna and Krakin lunge in ready to kill again, as something green towers over the cabins behind Yasmine and Sun. A wizard in torn and fluttering robes and a staff in his hand.

I Am Merlin Motherfuckers!

Donna and Krakin wilt as Yasmine and Sun use the distraction to roll free and scramble to their feet.

‘POLICE!’ Clara’s voice coming in fast. ‘MOVE MOVE MOVE!’

‘POLICE MOVE!’ shouts from the other side. Shouts from everywhere. The crew panic and starburst as Clara, Boris and Pasha all come into view from different lanes. Each one leading a uniformed squad clutching shields and voltage sticks.

Donna and Krakin move fast and sprint into Dmitri’s old cabin as Yasmine spots the strike teams busy trying to subdue the others pumped on drugs and fighting like wild beasts.

‘STAY THERE!’ Yasmine shouts at Sun, running after Donna and Krakin, twisting on the spot to wrench away the flexi-pipe that Dmitri always kept over the door-jamb.

A crash from the back. She runs into Dmitri’s room with flashbacks of years ago when he pinned her down.

In here.

In this room.

On that bed.

Motion from the side. Krakin coming out of the shadows to slash at her. She falls back and cracks him over the shoulder with the pipe as Donna kicks the escape panel out of the back wall and dives through. Krakin goes after her with Yasmine cussing the hell out of the air as she tries telling herself not to do it, but they’re armed and dangerous and ready to kill so there’s no way she can just leave them.

On her feet and running for the panel. A voice from behind. Zhang charging into the cabin. ‘Yassy?’

‘Out the back!’ she yells, already climbing through as Zhang runs into the room holding his Taser pistol. She drops down into a narrow alley just in time to see the back of Krakin running out of one end and sets off after him with Zhang dropping out behind her.

A second later Yasmine spills out the end with the pipe up and ready to lash out as a crate flies into her side, thrown by Krakin. She grunts from the impact as Zhang comes out to get some shots in, with the barbed needles striking walls and metal gantries.

‘Go that way!’ Yasmine tells Zhang, pushing him after Donna and Krakin. ‘It loops. I’ll cut them off!’ she calls before turning to sprint away. Whipping past cabins and shacks and a group of old men playing dominoes.

Yasmine takes a left and runs fast to complete the loop. A yell from in front. A crash and a scream and Donna runs out of the junction with the knife dripping blood and a look of horror on her face. A guy staggers out after her holding his belly.

‘What did I do?’ he asks in disbelief.

‘I ran into you! It was an accident,’ Donna says, the words rushing out in panic as Krakin crashes into the injured guy from behind.

‘Zhang’s coming!’ he gasps, making Donna spin and start running while glancing back and not seeing Yasmine ahead.

‘Donna stop!’ Yasmine shouts, finally making them snap their heads forward to see Yasmine blocking the lane with the flexi-pipe held ready in her hand.

‘You fucking bitch!’ Donna yells, turning to run back as Zhang runs out behind them, blocking them off.

‘Donna, just put it down,’ Yasmine shouts.

‘POLICE! PUT THE WEAPONS DOWN!’ Zhang says, striding in with his pistol up and aimed as Donna finally locks her eyes on Yasmine.

‘I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!’

‘YASSY DOWN!’ Zhang shouts, sending shots down the lane into Krakin and Donna. A charged barb gets through them into Yasmine, sending her staggering back with a mini-convulsion. But it passes fast, and both Donna and Krakin take the hits with screams of rage. Too high on drugs to feel the pain as they close in fast, ready to stab and kill.

Yasmine dances back, lashing out with the pipe as Krakin lunges to slash at Zhang who fends him off and drops back.

Donna screams with a lunge as Yasmine swings the pipe into her side, hearing a rib crack.

A blow that would fell any ordinary person, but Donna pays no heed and comes in again as Krakin tries to stab Zhang, but misses his step and gets several hard, fast blows into his head, making him cry out in panic and spin away with the knife in his hand just as Yasmine strikes Donna again, sending her back onto the blade held by Krakin.

The girl staggers and screams and Krakin’s mouth drops open in shock as a very large man with very long arms slams a fist into the side of his head, knocking him clean out.

Then it’s done.

Over, and Yasmine gasps as she looks down to Donna floundering on her side, trying to reach behind her to pull Krakin’s knife free from her back, her eyes showing absolute shock and disbelief as she looks up at Yassy. ‘I think something’s stuck in my back.’

Yasmine blinks in shock then looks over to the big gnarly guy with the long arms.

‘Hey, Chimpy,’ she says with a stunned look.

‘Hi, Chimpy,’ Zhang says, as shocked as Yasmine.

‘All right,’ he says mildly as they all look down to Krakin’s unconscious form. ‘Yeah. So. It took ages to get free, didn’t it,’ Chimpy says as three more guys emerge from an alley, dragging more bloodied and bruised teenagers over to dump next to Krakin.

‘Alright, Yassy,’ one of them says with a nod as they walk off.

‘Yeah. You know what I mean, Yassy?’ Chimpy continues in the very surreal moment as everyone in the operations room watches on in stunned silence. ‘That Helga’s got our backs, so like, you know, we got hers. Anyway. Say hi to Penny.’

Chimpy walks off as uniformed police officers run to help Detective Zhang Woo arrest the suspects for murder. Which should be the thing that sends the Elfors into riots, because the police have never swarmed in like that before and it’s always been said that the police will never be allowed down there, and especially not on Level 40.

Except the riots don’t happen, and the Elfors don’t implode – because the Elforists watching it happen can see it’s Zhang, and they all know Zhang. And it’s Colin too, and Colin works for Abdul, so he’s alright. And that’s Clara, and everyone knows Clara. She works in Neon. And that’s Yassy, and literally everyone knows Yassy cos she works for Abdul now and there’s that rumour going round that she killed Dmitri. And that’s Boris, and Pasha, and that’s Faiza who worked on the stairs. She’s an Elforist too.

* * *

Control is an illusion. Helga knows that, and she knows that the very best control is that which is given willingly.

And right there, just like that, the control is given while in the operations room all eyes turn to the Ice Queen standing defiant with her chin up.

Calm. Measured. Controlled.

‘Good work,’ she says. ‘Abdul, how many vessels came to your aid?’

‘Er. We’ve got fifteen cargo ships and three passenger shuttles at the moment with a load more on their way,’ Abdul replies.

‘Patch me onto the main channel.’

‘Done.’

‘Pilots. This is Helga Sveinsson. Captain of the worldship Humility. Thank you for your service and thank you for showing such defiance against a barbaric decision to invade our ship. We now have control. Please stand down, but if any of you suffer as a result of your actions, please know you will always have a home and work here. Helga out. Janey, call a press conference,’ she adds before sweeping out of the room.

‘The king is dead,’ Jorgey murmurs. ‘Long live the queen . . .’

Helga waits until the door closes behind her and only then releases the gasp of air she was holding inside, the tension finally dispersing.

Brinkmanship they used to call it on Earth. When politicians pushed situations to the very edge before stepping in.

It took nerve and gumption. But she has the code – which she was starting to suspect is something even the Six don’t – and Helga knows that the only way to hold onto the thing she has is by having complete control not only of her ship, but of the situation.

She also had to send a message that the Six don’t control everyone, and what’s more, they don’t always get what they want.

13

The Feds board the Humility.

The pilots wanted to stay and fight, swept up into the cause as they were, but Abdul thanked them again for the show of strength and, reluctantly, they flew off to resume their duties, leaving just the Elfor One holding position in front of six larger Federal Police shuttles.

‘How the hell do I dock this thing?’ Sven then said.

‘There’s probably a docking button,’ Zhang quipped.

‘Yep. Got it. Cheers!’

‘No fucking way,’ Zhang said.

But it doesn’t end there, because as the newly named Elfor One docked on Level 30, the Fleet Federal shuttles took turns to dock and disgorge their officers into the VIP lounge where they stacked up and made ready to invade the ship.

The ship that had lost control.

The ship that was in dire straits and filled with crime and lootings, and murders and brawls, and violent Elforists running amok.

And so with Chief Williams in the lead, and Drago at his back with his four good officers still ready to turn and fight, the Feds set forth to each take a stairwell and head down towards the retail zone. Shields presented. Faceguards down. Voltage sticks crackling.

But what they find is not what they were told to expect, and they step out from the platforms to the lanes and avenues of the retail zone, once more lit up with the famous 3-D adverts glowing overhead.

There’s something else too – those lanes are clear of rubbish and litter and gleaming from being freshly cleaned, and they press on, in formation and ready for war while frowning in confusion as they pass the stores they thought had been looted. Only to see people outside of those stores smiling and nodding.

Some with split lips and busted noses. Some with black eyes and swollen cheeks, but still smiling – which is because Dil and Mild Marko and a whole bunch of other Elforists came into the lanes and told the looters, very clearly, to clean this fucking mess up before the Feds get here you stupid dumb putas.

And so those looters now stand and smile and nod and wave politely while blocking the holes they made with their bodies as the black-clad tactical teams go by.

All of them crunching along in big boots and all of them merging in the very centre.

The big plaza in the centre of the retail zone where Elforists and Humility residents stand shoulder to shoulder beneath the glowing 3-D adverts hacked and turned on by Sam on the bridge.

‘Hi guys!’ Fast Hands Ferdy calls out, striding over to meet them with a smile and a wave. ‘Great to see you. Are you here for the press conference? Do you want a drink?’

‘Lads!’ Dil calls, carrying a tray filled with beakers of coffee while Dorka hands out hot fresh synth rolls. ‘Relax, boys. There’s no bother here. Honestly, we’re all stumped why you were even sent over.’

‘We’re just waiting for Captain Sveinsson now as it happens,’ Ferdy says. ‘She’s about to give a speech.’

Chief Williams raises a clenched fist to bring his units to a stop and lifts his faceguard to show the suspicion evident on his face as he looks over to a gaggle of reporters filming a very large man.

‘Yeah. I was right there. Saw it all,’ Chimpy says to the crowd of journalists around him. ‘That gang were armed to the teeth and taking the cops on. Right old battle it was, so you know, I stepped in and gave one of them a clout to help Zhangy out. I think a few of our lot did to be honest. Fucking kids eh?’ he says with a mild tut.

‘Gosh, yes. I was actually on duty and saw the whole thing,’ Dawkins the waiter says, a few feet away, to more reporters. ‘Alistair went for the female Elforist customer with a fork and tried to stab her, and honestly? Literally everyone knew Alistair and his chums were the gang killing Elforists. Even the councillors knew. Those lads had it coming when the police took them down. No. No. I know it’s not a popular opinion. But you know what? Not one of those councillors ever once gave me a tip.’

‘Sir, orders?’ Drago asks as Chief Williams frowns, not quite knowing what to do, because he certainly can’t start a charge against such a peaceful crowd.

‘Roll, sir?’ Honey the Money asks him with a warm smile. ‘They’re fresh.’

‘I don’t want a roll!’ he snaps.

‘I wouldn’t mind one,’ one of the lads in the unit behind him says. ‘Sir, can we have a roll?’

‘Of course you can!’ Honey says as Carla and Lick Lick Suck and more servers and dancers push into the ranks with warm smiles and soft touches to hand out rolls and winks to the black-clad troopers.

‘She’s coming!’ someone calls out as Helga steps onto the stage with Abdul at her side.

‘Now,’ Helga says, bringing them all to a sudden hush. ‘As you know, the last few days have, without doubt, been the most testing period our ship has ever experienced. And it has been bad. I won’t lie or hide anything from you because now, more than ever, we need transparency. But I can tell you why it got so bad. And that was because the anti-Elfor vibe whipped up by those formerly in positions of responsibility was built on lies and hatred. But why were they lied to? Because governments gain better control when their people are divided! And we were divided.

‘That’s why I challenged that hatred. And that’s why I refused to allow my ship to be turned into a warzone the likes of which they had back on Earth. And for a few very dark days it certainly looked like that was happening. Even the police officers who swore an oath to protect this ship refused to return to duty, and so those countless acts of violence just kept happening. Multiple murders! Multiple rapes! Serious assaults. Looting and robberies. The retail zone shut down. Neon City shut down.’

Passion in her voice as her cold eyes sweep from camera to camera and over the hushed crowd.

‘And do you know who stepped up? Let me tell you who stepped up. The independent bodyguards in Neon City volunteered to help. Elforists to the last. Every single one of them. There they are. Right in front of you. Those police officers in their uniforms that have worked non-stop are all Elforists. And do you know what else they did? They went into the Elfors to arrest the Elfor gang! And let me tell you what happened. Nothing happened! The Elfors didn’t riot. They didn’t attack the police. The people helped! I saw it. I was in the operations room watching it and I saw Elforists come out to help the police because they knew the price of freedom!’

Another round of applause breaks out. Cheers and whoops filling the air as Chimpy grins from the attention while Helga sweeps her gaze over the crowd.

‘But now . . . But now we must draw a line under what was, because this is a new era starting right here. A new era where Humility residents and Elforists stand side by side. This is a new dawn for all, and one in which we are united! And let me say this,’ she says, glaring into Kristi’s camera. ‘Let me make this clear to the forces out there that wanted to take our ship from us. To those dark forces that think they can control everyone and everything in the fleet. You don’t control the Humility. You don’t control the Elfors, and you don’t control me! Elfors till I die!’ She fist-bumps her chest and lifts her arm into the air to a detonation of cheers and feet stamping.

‘And to the Federal police sent to push us back down and seal us in! We hold no malice towards you, but raise a single voltage stick against us and we will all rise! That’s the Elfor Way.’

Another pause for the cheers. Another pause for the Ice Queen to stare out over her subjects while hoping the message is rammed down the throats of the Six.

‘Captain Sveinsson!’ Abdul calls, stepping forward to applaud Helga as he takes centre stage as agreed beforehand, and he slowly stops clapping to stare out as the crowd quietens one more time. ‘All that remains is to say thank you to all of you for helping us bring unity . . . Oh! And I almost forgot, I am pleased to announce Neon City is re-opening tonight! And we know there will be record crowds to celebrate all of us reaching this incredible day of unity, and so tomorrow will be a public holiday. We’re calling it Elfor Day!’

He winks and extends a finger and, like magic, the air above the people gathered in the large plaza lights up with cascades of stars pouring down.

‘Enjoy!’ Abdul calls as Kristi Carter steps in front of her camera.

‘There you have it, folks. Confirmation that the Stairwell Rapists and the gangs have all been arrested during those sensational swoops. And, as the Ice Queen said, now marks the turning point in this troubled ship’s history as they urge their people to unify with the promise of a new public holiday called Elfor Day.

‘Now I don’t know what the future holds, but the one thing I can say is the feeling here is incredible. There is a real sense of that unity Captain Sveinsson spoke about. A real sense of purpose, that the people want to try and heal. All we can do is hope it lasts, and I’ll certainly be interviewing Captain Sveinsson later to find out exactly how they identified and tracked those offenders. But for now, this reporter is going to enjoy a glass of synth bubbly to celebrate this momentous milestone. I’m Kristi Carter and this is FleetNewsCast.’

She cuts transmission to stand amid the cheering crowds, studying Helga and Abdul, then Colin and Jorgey. Penny and Janey and Sven, and Yasmine and Sun standing further back than everyone else.

She finally looks to Zhang Woo and in that instant, in the deepest part of her being, Kristi Carter knows that every bloody word that came out of Helga’s mouth was a big fat stinking lie.

Kristi has no idea how she knows that. Only that she does. And she knows something else too. And that’s that everyone else is in on it.

Which means it’s not a lie at all.

It’s a fucking conspiracy.

PART II

AN ELFOR KISS

14

And so it is that a week or so after that incredible adventure, Yasmine Emile Dufont once more wakes in the sleeping tube of Cabin 58, Row G, Level 35 on board the worldship Humility and slowly stretches as the cabin’s AI detects her eyes fluttering open.

Good morning, Yasmine. The time is 6.55 a.m. Here is a summary of the main headlines.

THE WORLDSHIP HUMILITY OPENS AGAIN FOR TOURISM,

BUT, WE ASK, IS IT SAFE?

NEON CITY TO START CHARGING AN ENTRY FEE AS ABDUL INTRODUCES THE FIRST ELFOR TAXES!

FLEET ELDERS DEMAND AN ELECTION ON THE HUMILITY!

THE ELITE ARE LEAVING IN DROVES, WHILE EX-ELFORISTS FLOOD BACK TO THE HUMILITY.

She swipes the glowing reports away and notes that everything in the cabin is the same as it was when she went to sleep.

Which means Sam never came home again.

She frowns at what that means, while not entirely sure of exactly what it does mean. Only that it must mean something.

Mind you, he is working on something big. He’s hardly left the bridge since he first went up there, and while she understands that Sam is the type to become completely immersed in whatever he’s doing, she’s never seen it anywhere near this level before.

‘Good morning folks!’

She blinks at the smiling face of Kristi Carter blooming up from her news feed. Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Flawless skin.

‘And here we are on another day in paradise,’ Kristi says with a wink at the camera acknowledging that every viewer knows this isn’t really paradise at all.

‘And guess where I am? Answers on a virtual postcard to I Don’t Care cos yep! You guessed it. This gal is still on board the worldship Humility. That’s right. Because even though the shuttles are running again, I still can’t leave!’

Before all of this Yasmine assumed Kristi was an elite snob with her head rammed up her backside whereas in reality, Kristi actually seems quite cool. But then Yasmine used to have assumptions about a lot of things. She used to assume Helga was also a stuck-up elitist bitch who couldn’t give an Elfor shit about anyone below Level 30. But Yasmine now knows Helga too.

And on top of that her boyfriend slash partner slash other half slash she-has-no-frigging-clue-what-they-are has now taken root on the bridge to work on something like, just nuts. Honestly. It’s nuts.

That’s what Sam said when he asked her. He said some other stuff and while Yasmine can normally at least grasp what he’s on about, she failed dismally this time and didn’t understand one jot of it. He said the fleet moved. She told him the fleet moves all the time. He said nooooo! It moved.

She said okay! And left him to it and has hardly seen him since. But then she was also very busy, what with the murders and rapes and running about with Sun and Zhang, and the looting, and then the Feds boarding, and then catching those rapists and killers.

All of which was very exciting. Which, Yasmine has to admit, she kinda thrived on, but she also kinda knows that she’s kinda ignoring the big thing going on which is that her relationship with Sam is kinda imploding because she kinda can’t let him touch her.

Hence why he’s probably staying on the bridge because she keeps teasing him without meaning to. But that’s her way of trying. She keeps kissing him and cuddling, and encouraging him to touch her – but then it reaches the point where she freezes and she would literally rather throw herself from an airlock than keep going. And to make matters worse, that point in which she finds herself freezing is not a fixed point. It can be the first kiss, or literally when Sam is hard as rock – and even though Sam is the nicest, kindest, most patient man she has ever met, even he has a limit as to what he’ll put up with.

Yeah. Life is weird.

And it’s not just the people either because Yasmine has also gained an insight into how things work – politics and the police and such like, and none of that is what she thought it would be either. It’s all so chaotic. Like literally the whole of the time. There’s nothing to actually grasp. It’s not tangible. Not real, and as soon as one thing seems to be certain, everything changes and everyone on Level 1 is running around like those rats that ate Twinkle Toes Tommy’s stash of Elfor Snow and were jumping about while squeaking non-stop.

Anyway. Yeah. Life is weird and here she is. Lying awake in a sleeping tube with a boyfriend who is too confused to go near her, listening to the fleet’s most famous reporter, who she now knows, and who is also dating the detective that Yasmine worked with to catch those very same rapists and killers.

‘But I’m also being honest when I say what a different feel this ship has now. I can’t explain it,’ Kristi says while pausing to think for a second. ‘There was a saying on Earth. Something about how a storm made everything fresh again? I don’t recall it exactly. But it’s like that. It’s like this ship needed to vent and have that storm. And now here we are. In the aftermath and it feels fresh and clean. And of course, folks, today marks another milestone, because not only is this ship expecting its first tourists since the troubles began, but the new fashion range is also released today. The Elfor Range. And if that’s not enough, the Elfors have their very own store in the retail zone selling their very own fashions! Just grasp that for a second will you. The Elfor Store is leading the fleet fashion trend with the sale of their grungy, patchwork style – and we will be featuring the arrival of those tourists and spending time in the retail zone throughout the day here on FleetNewsCast, but for now, this gal is off for a good morning coffee and a bowl of porridge and jam. You have a good morning now folks!

‘Shower on,’ Yasmine says, stripped and ready as Kristi cuts out and the water pours down.

She thinks about the other question the AI asked her a week or two ago. Yasmine isn’t sure when it was, but she remembers the question. Would you like a medical scan?

The AI system said it can perform scans for physical and mental health. She said no, but it took root and it’s festered ever since.

The only problem is she’s terrified of what it might say. Whereas at the moment she’s in some weird Schrödinger’s Purgatory. Both broken and unbroken. Not diagnosed. Not sick.

But then if she doesn’t get better, she’ll destroy the one thing she values the most. Which is being with Sam.

Yep. Life isn’t just weird. It’s a fucked-up cockwombling son-of-a-puta shitfest, is what it is.

But hey. The new Elfor Range is out today. Woohoo. She can go to the stores and spend money to look like an Elfor.

She dries off and after dressing in unmarked clothing, not of an Elfor style, she heads out and up into the retail zone, passing window displays of clothing that mimics the people she grew up around.

She reaches the busy café and spots Dil and Mild Marko trying to organise teams of workers with virtual clipboards, both of them looking more stressed than when they stood with Helga during the Great Battle Of The Café, or whatever it’s now come to be known as.

‘Hey!’ A warm greeting meets Yasmine as she walks in to see Kristi already at the counter.

Yasmine thinks to tell Kristi she saw her report, but then stops because she doesn’t know what to call it. Instead, Yasmine smiles and says nothing at all.

In turn, Kristi clocks the smile and feels that same thing she always feels when she talks to Yasmine. Which is to be very bloody careful because Yasmine is not like anyone else Kristi knows and wouldn’t hesitate to punch her in the face.

Which is weird, because Yasmine gives that vibe off at the same time as coming across as super-lovely and nice, and Kristi just can’t seem to grasp which angle to take to form a connection with her.

Which is exactly what Kristi wants to do, because she knows there’s something much bigger going on, but she can’t grasp it or get a beat on what it is. But she knows Yasmine is right in the middle somehow.

‘Gimme two mins,’ Sven calls to them.

‘You not working today then?’ Kristi asks Yasmine.

‘Morning off,’ Yasmine says. ‘I would help out, but that kitchen is like a black hole. You take one step in and you ain’t getting free all day.’

Kristi chuckles at the way Yasmine says it, glancing at her dark eyes and black hair and olive skin. ‘Any plans?’

Yasmine shrugs. ‘Got an errand first thing but nothing really.’

‘Not going shopping then?’

‘Yeah. Cos I so wanna be an Elfor,’ Yasmine quips, earning a smile in return.

‘Can I ask a question?’ Kristi asks quickly, showing genuine thought. ‘Is it offensive? The fashion range I mean. To an Elforist?’

‘It’s not offensive,’ Yasmine says thoughtfully. ‘But I don’t know.’

‘Misappropriation?’ Kristi suggests.

‘Never heard of her. She an Elforist?’ Yasmine asks.

‘Two porridge. Two coffees,’ Dorka says, plonking them on the counter.

‘No. I didn’t mean a person. I meant as in—’ Kristi grabs her bowl and mug to follow Yasmine out into the walkway.

‘I know what misappropriation means,’ Yasmine laughs, shooting a look back. ‘Trust me. I really know what that word means.’

‘Interesting,’ Kristi says as Yasmine heads for the back and finds a seat. Kristi motions the empty one beside her. ‘May I?’

‘Crack on,’ Yasmine says. ‘But yeah. Being an Elforist is about more than just the clothes, though. I mean . . . Okay, so you could line twenty people up, right? And put them all in exactly the same outfits and you’d spot the Elforist instantly. I mean, I would. Any Elforist would. It’s like an aura or something. Plus, we’d stick a UV light on and see their tats anyway,’ she adds with another quick smile to show she’s being light-hearted as she spots Kristi’s eyes flicking down to her neck and then down her arms. Yasmine smiles at the glance and swipes her band to shine a UV light that she angles back on herself.

‘Oh wow,’ Kristi says with a look of awe at the inkwork all over Yasmine’s arms and up her neck. Stick-figure tattoos trapped in boxes. Bouncing around. Trying to get out. Wild Yassy. Crazy Yassy. ‘They’re beautiful,’ she says quietly. ‘And what happens if a non-Elforist gets one?’

‘They’d get mulched,’ Yasmine says seriously as she notices the questioning look on Kristi’s face. ‘It’s ours. Elforists are actually pretty easy-going with most things, but the tats, yeah, it’s a thing for us. You must know all that, though? You’re turning into an Elfor.’

‘Feels that way,’ Kristi says, eating a spoonful with a flash of something that Yasmine spots, but she doesn’t ask about it and she doesn’t make reference, because Kristi is a reporter and Yasmine stole a code for a new planet and if that gets out then everyone will die.

‘Anyway. Gotta run,’ Yasmine says, her bowl half eaten and her coffee half drunk. ‘Er, good luck with the report thingies for the fashion stuff. What are they called again?’

‘Piece to camera?’ Kristi asks, and Yasmine’s face lights up.

‘That’s very cool. Piece to camera. Anyway. Laters.’

Yasmine heads off, thinking about how she actually quite likes chatting with Kristi and it’s easy to forget she’s the enemy. No. Not the enemy. But she is a reporter, and Yasmine has to remember that.

She slips back across the retail zone, marvelling that she can now use the executive elevator. But she still takes the stairs because Yasmine likes the way it taxes her leg muscles and gets her heart pumping, and she powers on all the way up to Level 1 and steps out into the world of the snobby elite, and Pretty Penny walking by holding up a middle finger.

‘Get fucked,’ Yasmine says, breathing hard from the exertion.

‘Go fuck yourself,’ Penny replies.

‘Ladies,’ Helga says with a tut and a roll of her eyes as she strides from one office to another.

‘Sorry!’ they both say at the same time with a grin as they head into a large office, where Sun Sing’s sitting on a chair with no legs.

‘It’s floating,’ she says in awe. ‘I’ve never seen an anti-grav chair before. So cool . . .’ she adds before looking up with a smile. ‘Morning boss.’

‘Me or her?’ Penny asks.

‘Er, both?’ Sun asks.

‘Good answer,’ Penny says, heading over to a big desk at the back of the room.

‘Look at you being all number one bitch,’ Yasmine says, making herself comfortable on Penny’s desk.

‘Anyway. How are you?’ Penny asks.

‘Alright, I guess,’ Yasmine says, swinging her legs as Sun starts gliding off to the left.

‘Love it,’ Sun says with a big grin.

‘Love what?’ Abdul asks, striding into the room with a look of delight at the new chairs. He grabs one to sit then spots Sun moving through the air on hers. ‘How do you adjust it?’

‘You need an app,’ Sun says, swiping to send him a link.

‘I’ve got a training session booked in for them,’ Penny calls.

‘You need a training session for a chair?’ Yasmine asks.

‘This is Level 1. We need training sessions to break wind,’ Penny mutters before tutting at Abdul and Sun gliding around in circles. ‘How’s Sam?’ Penny asks quietly. Sensing the energy dip in Yasmine as she looks over. ‘I think he was here again all night.’

Yasmine nods. Not sure what to say. ‘He’s working on something apparently. Is he up there now?’

Penny nods. ‘Go and see him. You’ve got a few minutes.’

Yasmine takes her advice and heads up to see Sam in the captain’s chair surrounded by glowing screens. Days of growth on his jawline and his face a mask of focus as he types on his matt black virtual keyboard.

She holds still, watching him; he doesn’t look like Sam the airlock worker anymore. His features are harder and leaner. Maybe it’s the stubble, or his hair is getting longer. Or the way the screens reflect on his face, but he looks different. She expects him to sense her presence the way people do and glance over with that easy smile of his.

Except he doesn’t and she notices a small cot made up on the floor where he must have crashed out last night, but she also notices that he looks clean and groomed, which means he’s washing and eating. Which in turn makes her feel rejected because it’s as though he simply doesn’t need her anymore, and so, without saying a word, she slips back down the stairs and instantly feels guilty that it’s all her fault. But then she didn’t mean to. She just doesn’t know how to deal with it. She loves Sam, and the thought of intimacy with him is nice, whereas the actuality of it fills her with horror.

She clenches her fists with a dark pulse of self-loathing and heads out into the corridor to see Sun coming out of the office.

‘We’re in,’ Sun says, motioning Yasmine to hurry up. She rushes to catch up, seeing Helga ushering them in and over to the sofas arranged by the coffee table. A tray filled with hot drinks and a platter of pastries next to a bowl of strawberries.

‘Little treat for us,’ Helga says, waving a hand for them to sit down. ‘Have you ever had real coffee?’

Helga hands them each a cup and watches like an attentive aunt as they take their first sips, smiling at their reactions. ‘I’ve got an arrangement with the captain on the Brunei. I make sure his daughters get a nice package every time the retail zone releases a new fashion line, and in turn, he sends me a few bags of Arabica beans. And you really must try these croissants. Freshly baked just an hour ago, and these,’ she pauses with a smile before placing a bowl on a small table between their chairs, ‘are strawberries.’

‘Oh fuck,’ Sun says, her eyes going wide at the taste of a strawberry. ‘How good are they?’

Yasmine bites into a pastry and feels the delicate flakes break apart in her mouth as Helga watches the pleasure receptors shine in Yasmine’s eyes. And it’s Yasmine Helga watches the most too, which is because Helga can recognise when another woman is as shrewd and quick-witted as she is.

‘Anyway. No doubt you are wondering why I asked to speak to you,’ Helga says.

‘Yassy figured it out,’ Sun says. ‘She said Abdul probably told you about the tombs.’

‘Indeed,’ Helga says with a fresh look of respect at Yasmine. ‘Abdul said you girls had a very grand adventure.’

‘You wouldn’t believe it,’ Sun says with a mouthful of pastry.

‘Try me. I want to hear all about it.’

Sun hesitates with a look to Yasmine as though seeking approval before continuing as Helga clocks the dynamics and in turn, feels herself being scrutinised by Yasmine.

‘Yeah, I figured you’d want to know,’ Yasmine says. ‘The tombs, right? They’re re-stocking them.’

‘So I heard,’ Helga says. ‘But I believe there’s more to it? Tell me how Leo was involved.’

‘Leo was intercepting Abdul’s shipments to the stores he supplied on the Beijing. And probably on a few more ships. We went over to the Ark and got into the Section 6 supply network and found some guys were targeting Abdul’s shipments and using his stock to replenish out of date stock in the tombs.’

‘You saw the tombs?’ Helga asks.

‘We saw part of the tombs, but we got caught. The guy said it was only a small area we’d seen.’

Helga nods. ‘The tombs are bigger than this ship. Tell me what you did see.’

‘Meds. Like huge shelves filled with meds in airtight bags, but I checked the dates and most of them were coming up to expiring. We saw tools too, and these rooms filled with like, wood or trees or other building materials, but they were sealed off in zero-G. Then later, once we got caught, we went down a level and saw cars and trucks. And it smelled down there. Like when a maintenance crew get back from an engine job. It smelled like that.’

‘Oil and grease,’ Helga says with a thoughtful look. ‘Did you see any of the vehicles in pieces? Did it look like anyone was working on them?’

‘It was dark. We didn’t see anyone else,’ Yasmine says. ‘But it smelled of coffee.’

‘Coffee?’ Helga asks.

‘Yeah. And sweat. Like people had been working there,’ Yasmine adds as Helga nods with understanding.

‘And the two men that caught you. What happened to them?’

Another pause as Sun shoots a look to Yasmine. ‘They both died,’ Yasmine says.

‘How?’ Helga asks as Sun makes a point of not looking up while Yasmine holds Helga’s level gaze and simply doesn’t reply.

Helga sits back with a long exhalation of air, remembering how Yasmine nearly killed the rapists with her bare hands. Yasmine was also very quick to confront Helga and speak her mind but now, in this sterile office, Helga can see Yasmine is calm and therefore reluctant to admit to any serious crimes.

After a second or so, Helga nods at Yasmine. ‘I set Pierre Jefferson on fire so his antechamber would be jettisoned into space. Along with Councillor Schrieber and the Level 1 security team.’

‘That’s gangster,’ Sun says with a mouthful of pastry.

‘Two guys,’ Yasmine says. ‘Craggy and Milo. Milo was just a hired goon. He didn’t even know who he was helping, but he was in the supply chain and could access Abdul’s shipments. Craggy was the main guy. He shot Milo in the tombs when it looked like Milo was getting second thoughts.’

‘And Craggy?’ Helga asks.

‘He said that wasn’t his real name. I heard someone calling him Martins later, and he was totally different after he’d shot Milo. Like smart and serious. He called someone and was told to take us out back to the warehouse. Then soon as we got out of the tombs we killed him.’

‘Beat him to death,’ Sun says as Helga studies them both and sees not a flinch between them. ‘Then Yassy shot him with his own gun. Have you ever heard a real gun? My ears were ringing for days. You want the last strawberry, Yassy?’

‘It’s fine. You have it,’ Yasmine says. ‘Then we hid in some delivery cages and ended up being put on a shuttle over to the Beijing and rolled down to Leo’s storerooms, which is where they had Zhang.’

‘Naked on a chair,’ Sun adds.

‘That’s when we realised what was happening,’ Yasmine continues. ‘Leo was helping the tombs people re-stock their stuff, and in exchange, he was getting to roll Abdul and take away his businesses on the Beijing.’

‘My mom’s store was one of them,’ Sun adds. ‘That’s how I ended up working with Yassy.’

‘I see,’ Helga says after listening intently. ‘And you two did this? You got into the Section 6 supply hub, and then into the warehouses.’

‘Yassy got us taken on as workers,’ Sun says. ‘Honestly. We were just there pretending to work. But we did actually work though!’ she adds with a laugh. ‘And Yassy was on it. She was like predicting everything everyone was going to do and being all like two steps ahead. It was like a holo movie. I mean, the guys dying and the fight getting out of the Hutongs was shit, but, yeah, oh and Sam was in our ears hacking doors and doing techy stuff.’

‘And then of course you tracked and apprehended the rapists and murderers,’ Helga adds.

‘Zhang tracked them,’ Yasmine says with a shrug at the minor correction as Helga notices that Yasmine doesn’t try and take all the credit. ‘But yeah, sorry about beating the rapists like that. I’ve got a temper when it comes to rape.’

‘Don’t apologise. I’m glad you did it, and in truth, I would have protected you if you’d killed them. I’m intensely loyal to those that are loyal to me, Yasmine, and Sun too, of course. Listen,’ she adds, leaning in.

‘No,’ Yasmine says quickly.

‘She does that as well,’ Sun says. ‘Yassy figures out what someone’s gonna say before they say it.’

‘You are clearly very intelligent, Yasmine,’ Helga says with a wry smile.

‘Thanks. But the answer is still no,’ Yasmine says. ‘We’re not working for you.’

‘Totes,’ Sun says with a firm nod before frowning and shooting a look to Yasmine. ‘Eh? Hang on a sec.’

‘I want to work at the café.’

‘Are you being serious?’ Sun asks. ‘In the café? After what we did on the Beijing? Then the rapists and the murderers, and you want to work in a café?’

Yasmine nods. Not realising she was going to refuse Helga until the words came out from a rush inside. The thrill of being sent on a mission and back in danger and peril and using her skills, while her relationship with Sam rotted and died and she carried on being as broken and fucked-up as she is now. And the whole reason for stealing the code in the first place was so she could have a peaceful life, and suddenly, that’s all she wants. Just a peaceful life where she wakes up and works in the café. That’s it. Just that.

Helga stares up at her, seeing herself in Yasmine’s eyes. That same inner strength, but that same iron core of stubbornness too, and to push Yasmine now would only make the woman dig in harder. And so, in the second or two it takes Yasmine to stand up and drain her coffee, Helga surmises that the only thing that will help change Yasmine’s mind is time.

Besides, Helga has plenty to do – for a start she needs to work out how to convince the fleet to give registration to tens of thousands of newly freed Elforists.

‘I understand,’ Helga says. ‘You need to relax and decompress, and yes, establishing a routine is probably very healthy right now. Perhaps we can pick this up later on.’

‘The answer will still be no,’ Yasmine says.

‘And I will always respect that,’ Helga says, while both figure they don’t believe a word the other is saying. ‘Oh, one last question, did Martins or Milo mention who they were working for?’

‘The only other name I heard was Petra,’ Yasmine says as Helga nods thoughtfully and ushers them to the door, Sun whispering angrily at Yasmine.

Helga stands in her office doorway, watching them head off, still thinking about their exchange.

Helga knows the tombs on the Ark hold the things considered essential for when the fleet finally finds another planet. Building components. Structures. Vehicles. Weapons. Meds, food and tools.

It could be that it’s someone’s job to simply replenish the goods nearing their expiry dates. But that would be done openly, not secretly, and certainly not by pilfering things from delivery cages, which suggests it’s being done covertly, and doing things covertly means someone doesn’t want to be caught doing them.

And the only reason to re-stock the tombs in secret would be if they were nearing a planet – and the only other people who know anything about the code or the new planet is Hector and the Six.

She frowns, thinking it through as the elevator door pings open and Penny leads Kristi out, who double-takes at the sight of Yasmine and Sun heading into a side office.

‘Kristi, lovely to see you,’ Helga says with a nod to Penny who slips away and lets Helga take over leading Kristi into her office, with another fresh tray already on the table. ‘Come, do sit down. Coffee? Please help yourself to some fruit and pastries.’

‘This feels like bribery,’ Kristi says, giving a groan of pleasure as she takes a bite out of a strawberry. Helga sits down on the little sofa opposite and notices the bags under Kristi’s eyes.

‘Captain?’ Penny says, coming in through the side door with a virtual screen open in front of her. ‘Kristi wants to do a live interview. I’ve got the questions here, they all seem okay, did you want to see them?’

‘No, it’s fine,’ Helga says. ‘We’ll let Kristi finish her coffee first though. She looks like she needs it.’

‘Wish I could find someone to make me glow like that,’ Penny says as Helga chuckles. ‘And on that note, I shall depart. Call me if you need me!’

‘Will do,’ Helga says as Penny heads out.

‘How different is all this?’ Kristi asks.

‘You’ve seen my offices before.’

‘No. I mean having an aide being familiar like that. You don’t think that undermines you?’

‘Not at all. Penny and I have been through a lot, and she knows when she has to show professionalism, and that is exactly how I want all of my staff to feel. That we are a family.’

‘You can save it, we’re not live yet,’ Kristi says.

‘Don’t be cynical, Kristi. It’s not a soundbite.’

‘That was such a soundbite. And thank you for the coffee but it’s not going to make me forget your promise.’

‘Ah,’ Helga says as she shifts position.

‘The Fleet Finance offices. Yasmine stole something. Dmitri was trying to get it back . . . Why are you waving a hand at me? You promised you would tell me.’

‘And I will,’ Helga says, accessing her system to bring up the blue sphere around them.

‘Why is that up?’ Kristi demands, swiping to see that her wristband won’t respond inside the sphere.

‘Because I made you the promise, not FleetNewsCast. And what I am about to tell you is top secret.’

‘Okay,’ Kristi says, thrown off guard, while thinking this feels too easy.

‘Someone impersonated Mahatma Goudier and accessed the Fleet Finance offices to steal a crypto-bond. And they did it because I told them to.’

A tiny pause for dramatic effect and to read the surprise in Kristi’s eyes before Helga continues.

‘I’d heard there was something going on inside the Finance offices and I tasked Zhang to find out, but I also wanted to know just how easy it would be to gain access, so I reached out to a very skilled operative who works for me now and then—’

‘This is Yasmine?’ Kristi asks as Helga pointedly ignores the question. ‘Yasmine impersonated Mahatma. I know that already.’

‘My operative got inside and took a crypto-bond with astonishing ease. Honestly, the level of security was just appalling. I was horrified. And as soon as my operative confirmed they had successfully carried out the theft, albeit it wasn’t technically a crime as they were sanctioned to do it, but as soon as they’d done it, I was ready to tear a strip from Randolph Simpson. But of course, the whole thing went wrong. In fact, Zhang had just realised that Mahatma was blackmailing Randolph to steal codes, and he was running about trying to figure it out all out when Mahatma reached out to Dmitri.’

‘Whoa. Hang on. Did Zhang know Yasmine was doing the theft?’

Helga takes her turn to pause while figuring she can’t continue without confirming Yasmine was the operative she used. But needs must and Helga knows Kristi has to be given enough to be satisfied.

‘Not at all. Nobody knew. That’s how operatives work, Kristi. They have one controller. I was the controller for both. And of course, you know the rest. Dmitri went straight for Randolph and because of his history with Yasmine he went after her, thinking not only to take the bond she’d stolen, but to get revenge on her because of their previous relationship. It really was a very unfortunate sequence of events, and the whole Elfor thing that had been rumbling on got whipped up by Dmitri killing Randolph and Mahatma.’

‘Why would Dmitri kill Mahatma? She was the one that brought him in.’

‘She was a loose end. Dmitri knew Yasmine had a bond, and a bond is worth millions. So in his drug-addled mind he thought was going to be very wealthy.’

Helga watches the cogs in Kristi’s mind turn as she processes it all and no doubt senses that it feels wrong, while at the same time it all makes sense.

‘Kristi, I know it feels like there was something else going on, but that’s because of what happened after, with Pierre and the anti-Elfor thing. The two events were never connected, but sadly, the deaths of Randolph and Mahatma were the catalyst for the whole damned thing, and in a way, as bad as their deaths were, they went on to make something wonderful happen because the Elfors are finally free.’

‘Yasmine works for you?’ Kristi asks, feeling like she’s trying to grasp one of the hanging threads that keeps slipping through her fingers.

‘Yasmine is freelance. Which is why she went over to the Beijing as soon as it all blew up. To protect her cover. Can I tell you something else, Kristi? But I must have your word you will never repeat this. I need to hear it, Kristi. I need you to tell me.’

‘You know I can’t. But . . . I mean . . . unless it’s something the fleet needs to know then yeah, okay, I guess I can give you my word,’ Kristi says, taking the bait and needing to know what the rest is.

‘You know Jorgey used covert agents to trap the rapists and the gangs during the operations last week? That was Yasmine. But that goes nowhere,’ Helga says, giving Kristi a stern look. ‘And I’m only telling you because you stood at my side that night of the riots. So please. Honour our promise and don’t ever repeat it.’

Kristi nods. Trapped in the earnest expression and soft voice of Helga, whose cold blue eyes now seem so warm and maternal.

A few moments later and Kristi goes live once again on FleetNewsCast, saying all the right things, and even the studio manager Kasim doesn’t scream in her ear but instead tells her it’s a good interview.

And it’s all still very good when Kristi gets back into the elevator and only then does the smile fade because Kristi knows when she’s been lied to.

And that was one hell of a lie.

Which means it’s still a fucking conspiracy.

15

Kristi steps out of the elevator and walks into the retail zone to meet her assistant Rona so they can cover the grand opening of the stores, followed a moment later by Sun and Yasmine coming off the stairwell.

‘Sun!’

‘Fuck you, Yassy. You could have told me first.’

‘I didn’t know,’ Yasmine says as Sun heads off down the stairs. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To help in my mom’s new store . . . Cos, you know, suddenly I don’t have another fucking job!’

She steams off, while Yasmine heads into the retail zone wondering why she said no to Helga. Everything feels confusing. Which, she figures, is why she said no. Because she does need time to decompress. Dmitri is dead. And that’s a huge part of her life now over. What he did to her. The rape, and the years of threats afterwards, affecting every part of her life.

But she’s with Sam now and she’s free.

Except she doesn’t feel free.

She was always running and fighting and stealing and hustling while dreaming of reaching this point in her life. And she always figured that when she finally gained complete freedom and financial security that everything would be better, and the frantic pace would stop and her mind slip into a state of permanent bliss.

That was the dream.

Well, no. That’s not true. Because the dream was to score big and run off to the Ab-Spa and never look back, but Yasmine is also smart enough to know that was never the actual true objective. The true objective was to simply live without fear.

That’s why she said no to Helga, and that’s why she suppresses the urge to run back up the stairs and bang on Helga’s door while shouting please send me back to the tombs so I don’t have to do real-life shit. Cos that would be wayyyy easier than having to address the other problem. The not-able-to-have-sex-with-her-boyfriend-slash-partner-slash-whatever-the-hell-he-is problem, and as soon as that thought strikes then so another surge of guilt rushes in that she should have gone back up to the bridge to see Sam.

She sighs and walks on through the retail zone, trying to work out how to unravel the giant knotted ball of tension in her belly. People everywhere. But then it’s been like this for days now.

‘The new normal,’ Clara called it when they were grabbing lunch in the café. ‘I don’t think it’ll ever go back to what it was.’

Clara was right, and so was Kristi during her morning piece to camera. Yasmine smiles at the phrase.

She aims for the plaza where the crowds are biggest. She threads around the groups to see Dil and Mild Marko in smart collarless jackets supervising a cleaning team giving the new double-fronted Elfor Store a last minute buffing.

And what a thing to see.

The Elfor Store

She reads the sign and can’t help a smile when she remembers the monumental row that kicked off in the walkway outside Sven’s Eatery about what to call it.

‘The Elfor Store?’ Abdul said. ‘They don’t call all the other stores the Humility Shops do they?’

‘It fits!’ Fast Hands Ferdy snapped back. ‘The Elfors are hot! And this says exactly what it is. The Elfor Store,’ he added with his hands splaying in the air.

‘Stop saying The Elfor Store! We’re calling it Rogue Fashions.’

‘You’re bloody not,’ Penny then said as Clara, Boris, Pasha, Sun and just about everyone else waded in. Including Yasmine.

‘We’re rogues!’ Abdul said, waving a dismissive hand at them. ‘The kids’ll love it. Trust me. I’m a retailer. I know this stuff.’

‘You’re not!’ Penny shouted over the clamour. ‘You own shares in the companies that own the retailers. That’s totally not the same thing. Ferdy’s right. The Elfor Store.’

‘No!’ Abdul said.

‘Yes!’ Ferdy said. ‘And I’m co-owner.’

‘So am I!’ Abdul said.

‘I’m also co-owner,’ Helga said, not that anybody listened to her – Elforists like to shout and not listen. And so it rumbled on until someone suggested they hold a vote, at which point everyone present figured they had a right to vote too. As did nearly everyone who heard about it in the Elfors. Mainly because they’d never been allowed to vote before so it became this whole big thing.

Helga even did a podcast on it. Which was nuts.

‘Hello! So you’re watching this because you’ve heard about the vote and what the new store should be called. Ferdy wants to call it The Elfor Store. Whereas Abdul wants to call it Rogue Fashions. However, because it is the first proper Elfor Store, it should be the people who decide. Therefore, you should see two buttons glowing in front of you. One for Rogue Fashions. One for The Elfor Store . . . Which is going to sell Elfor goods . . . In the Elfor Store . . . but you know, it’s totally up to you.’

‘That was biased!’ Abdul told her at the café as they all watched it.

‘Oh, most definitely,’ Helga said with a wink at Ferdy.

And so it came to be that for once Abdul Shariff didn’t win, and the new Elfor store was aptly named The Elfor Store.

‘And that’s what they are calling it folks. The Elfor Store,’ Kristi says, her image blooming up on a feed nearby as Yasmine threads through the crowd to see Kristi doing her piece to camera until the time comes and the countdown starts with a digital timer glowing in the air, counting back from ten to zero.

‘Four . . . Three . . . Two . . . One! The Elfor Store is open!’ Fast Hands Ferdy calls out. Abdul and Helga off to one side with her security team, Ivan and Olga, looming nearby. Penny and the others all applauding as a digital display made by Pretty Boy comes to life with stick-figures marching in from the sides of the store and clambering up ladders and using mops to start rubbing at the windows, and with a flash and a bang and a cascade of shooting stars, the windows become clear. Proudly showing the displays of grungy, patchwork clothes.

‘We’re going to have a small VIP entry first folks!’ Ferdy calls out. ‘Then we’ll start getting you all inside.’

‘There it is, folks. The Elfor Store. Open and ready to trade,’ Kristi says to camera. ‘Teddy, back to you while I get ready to grab me a sneaky peek inside.’

She cuts transmission and turns to smile at Yasmine. ‘You going inside?’ she mouths, motioning the store.

‘Me?’ Yasmine mouths, going closer with a puzzled look. ‘Do you want to go inside?’

‘I was asking if you were going in. But yeah. I’d love to see it. I mean. I think I’m invited,’ Kristi says, looking around for Ferdy.

‘Course you are,’ Yasmine says. ‘I’ll take you in if you want.’

‘Yeah? I’d love that. Rona, you stay and get some crowd footage,’ Kristi says, getting a surly grunt from her assistant before rushing after Yasmine. Figuring Yasmine will have to find Ferdy to ask to take Kristi inside.

Except that doesn’t happen and Yasmine walks to the front with every member of security stepping aside to let them go past until they get to the doors blocked off by Abdul, Helga and Penny surrounded by dignitaries, movers and shakers, and even the other councillors, who have all suddenly said how they were pro-Elfor all along.

Now here they all are. Happy to accept the new normal and take a glass of synth bubbly as Yasmine threads through them with Kristi on her heels.

‘Yassy? You want a glass?’ a beautiful young woman asks, making a beeline for Yasmine with a tray of drinks.

‘Yeah, cheers, Georgie,’ Yasmine says, taking two and handing one back to Kristi. ‘How are you anyway?’

‘I’m okay,’ Georgie says, pain in her eyes. Deep trauma and it takes a second for Kristi to recognise her as one of the rape victims. The young girl known as Gorgeous Georgie.

‘This isn’t too much for you?’ Yasmine asks.

‘I like it,’ Georgie says. ‘It’s weird but I like crowds now and being near lots of people.’

Yasmine nods. ‘Makes you feel safer.’

‘Yeah,’ Georgie says. ‘And you know, like, literally any guy that speaks to me has my dad and his mates and every other Elforist nearby ready to mulch them.’

Yasmine chuckles softly as Georgie heads off and wishes someone had done that for her back in the day. Would it have been different if other people had come forward to protect Yasmine after it happened? Would it have started the healing process sooner? Or changed the mindset of what happened?

‘Brave girl,’ Kristi says, bringing Yasmine’s mind back to the now. ‘So these are all from the Elfors?’ Kristi asks, nodding at the display.

‘Yep.’

‘But how? I mean. Are they making them, or like, buying the material in and making them look grungy?’

‘They’re our clothes,’ Yasmine says, seeing Kristi looking puzzled.

‘So these clothes are straight from the people?’

‘Well. No, I mean, Ferdy and Abdul set it up with Bella and the sisters . . . You know, to wash and stitch and do the buttons and things. . .’ Yasmine trails off, seeing Kristi looking confused then gets a sudden idea. ‘You want to see it?’

‘See what?’

‘The process. I mean, like how they take the clothes in and get them ready.’

‘I’d love to!’ Kristi says as Yasmine starts walking off. ‘Hang on. You mean right now? You don’t need to run it past Abdul or Helga first?’

‘Abdul doesn’t own the Elfors,’ Yasmine replies with a flash of defiance.

That’s it. Decision made and Kristi heads out with Yasmine.

The same Yasmine that works as an operative for Helga, that being the woman who broke into the Fleet Finance offices and later tracked and caught the rapists and murderers.

That same woman who just now invited Kristi down into the Elfors, and as they reach the stairwell a sudden pinch of fear hits Kristi that she’s being taken down to be assassinated for asking too many questions. Which then reminds her she saw Yasmine coming out of Helga’s office just before Kristi went in.

‘You okay?’ Yasmine asks, seeing Kristi falter behind with a strange look.

‘Yep!’

Kristi tells herself she’s being stupid, and that Yasmine isn’t going to assassinate her, but then Yasmine is clearly very skilled, and why was Yasmine watching Kristi from the crowd like that in the plaza?

Was that part of the plan to lure her here?

‘So I saw you this morning,’ Kristi says lightly, or at least trying to sound light. ‘On Level 1. I had an interview with Helga.’

‘Oh, I didn’t see you,’ Yasmine says, glancing back again. ‘Yeah, I was just saying hi to Penny and watching Abdul playing on the new anti-grav chairs.’

It’s a smooth reply as Kristi remembers she also saw Abdul playing on the chairs.

They drop down to Level 37 to an empty guard station with the walls now painted in murals of stick-figures and colourful graffiti – then out and into Neon City. The place strangely silent so early in the working day. The working girls and boys not offering their services at the sides of the main strip. The clubs closed up.

‘It’s so quiet,’ Kristi remarks, thinking this is the perfect time for a secret agent to stab a journalist to death and throw her from an airlock, and right there she wishes she’d never started bloody smiling at Yasmine in the first place. What was she thinking? She knew Yasmine was dangerous. She should run. Seriously. She should like totally just run.

‘This way,’ Yasmine says, taking a narrower side alley, as Kristi’s eyes go wide and her heart hammers in her chest. She swallows in fear with adrenaline dumping into her system, priming her senses for fight or flight.

‘Not far,’ Yasmine says with a quick glance back, making Kristi yelp and veer off into a wall.

‘I’m fine!’ Kristi says, trying to cool it out. ‘Sorry. I er, thought I saw a rat. I’m er, you know, rataphobic.’

‘Musophobic.’

‘What is?’

‘The fear of rats and mice,’ Yasmine says as she walks on. ‘And honestly? They hardly ever attack people. I mean, not like attack. You get bit a lot down here. Especially in some places on 40.’

‘Right,’ Kristi says weakly while still following behind through the way-too-narrow alley while wondering what Yasmine’s chosen method of assassination is.

‘. . . strangled.’

‘What!’

‘I said watch you don’t get strangled . . . By washing lines,’ Yasmine says, twanging one as Kristi swallows and follows her deep in the lair of the beast, and then out into a small open area surrounded by tables piled high with clothes, with workers sorting through them. Chatting and laughing and joshing each other next to a row of open-fronted cabins.

‘Ready for the next lot?’ a woman calls from a doorway. ‘We’ll have those darks, Blusher,’ she adds, motioning to a sorted pile of dark-coloured garments that get hefted and carried inside by a young guy with rosy cheeks. ‘Stick ’em on down there. Good lad. You had a drink yet? Get yourself a drink.’

He mumbles his thanks and heads back out to see Yasmine with a blush that only deepens when he spots Kristi Carter.

‘Blusher!’ Yasmine says. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m alright, Yassy,’ he says quietly, shooting shy glances of awe at Kristi.

‘Thought you’d be up top seeing the new store,’ Yasmine says.

‘I told him to go up!’ the woman from the open-fronted cabin yells. ‘He don’t like crowds does he.’

‘I don’t like crowds,’ Blusher says, with an even deeper blush when Kristi smiles at him.

‘Hi,’ she says, holding her hand out while feeling relieved at not being stabbed to death in an alley at the same time as thinking the young lad is quite possibly the cutest person she has ever seen, and she actively resists the urge to tousle his hair and pinch his cheeks. But she does smile warmly when he takes her hand with a stunned look on his face.

‘What you doin’ down ’ere anyway?’ the woman calls, striding from the cabin. ‘Oi! I said keep ’em separated. Don’t go puttin’ light trousers with dark trousers! What good is that? Darks. Lights. Mixed. Cor. Give me strength,’ she adds with a smile and a wink at the young woman working at the table. ‘You had breakfast yet? Go on and get something. And grab a coffee. I’ll have one, mind. Yassy? Coffee?’

‘Love one!’

‘And make Yassy a coffee an’ all. And what about Kristi? Kristi? You want a coffee? It’s cheap synth shit but the beakers are clean. I anti-bac ’em myself. Ain’t no dirt down here, love.’

‘I’d love one, thank you,’ Kristi says as the woman motions for the young lady to head off and make the drinks. ‘Hi! Kristi Carter,’ Kristi says, offering her hand as the woman comes over.

‘I know who you are!’ the woman says with a booming laugh. ‘You’re from the news. And don’t worry none. You’re alright down here. Dil vouched for you the other day. He said you’re alright. And Yassy’s vouching aren’t you, Yassy? See. She’s vouching.’

‘This is Sissy,’ Yasmine says to Kristi with a nod at the woman. ‘One of the Stitcher Sisters. Sissy, I wanted to show Kristi how you get the clothes in and then ready to go up for the new store.’

‘Yeah, that’s alright, love.’

‘Is it okay to film here?’ Kristi asks.

‘Course! You crack on. Eh, Sally! Kristi wants to film down here she does! Wanna be on the news?’

‘What’s that?’ another woman asks, coming from deeper in the cabin.

‘That’s Sally. One of the other Stitcher Sisters,’ Yasmine says as the other woman appears.

‘Hey. It’s that Kristi Carter,’ Sally shouts over her shoulder.

‘Where?’ another woman asks, appearing a second later. ‘Here! Will you look at that That’s Kristi Carter that is!’

‘I just said that,’ Sally says.

‘I told you!’ Sissy says.

‘Hang on,’ Kristi says as Yasmine goes to speak. ‘Let me guess. Sammy? Sandra?’

‘Close,’ Yasmine says as Sissy booms another laugh.

‘I’m Sandy,’ Sandy says, coming out with Sally. Big broad women with flushed rosy cheeks and loud voices.

‘And you’re all sisters?’ Kristi asks.

‘No! We ain’t bloody sisters!’ one of them laughs. ‘Cor, do me a favour. Related to these two? Not arf, love.’

‘We’re cousins,’ another one says.

‘But she might be my aunt,’ the third one says as they all burst out laughing again.

‘Go on then. Get yer camera up, love.’

‘Here. I ain’t done my face up!’

‘You ain’t ever done your face up, Sandy!’

‘You can both sod off. Kristi wants me to do the talkin’ seein’ as you two sound like bleedin’ cockneys.’

‘What, and you don’t, Sissy?’

‘Cockneys?’ Kristi asks, remembering the term from holo-movies and history. ‘From London? England?’

‘Bowbells ain’t it.’

‘What is?’ Kristi asks.

‘This is!’

‘The area,’ Yasmine says as Kristi smiles with equal parts confusion and delight. ‘It’s called the Bowbells,’ she adds with a nod over to a big brass bell hanging outside an end cabin.

‘That’s not one of the bells,’ one of the sisters says.

‘They weighed a ton apparently,’ another says.

‘They tried to get one down and on the shuttle, but the pilot said you can bugger off if you think you’re bringing that on here.’

‘He said that.’

‘Fair enough though. Bloody great big thing it was.’

‘We got our own bell now though.’

‘Had it from a church they did. Brought up with ’em.’

‘Anyway,’ Sissy says. ‘Stop pestering the poor girl. She’s got important news work to do. What do you wanna know? Tell you what. Get your camera up and I’ll talk you through it. That sound alright does it?’

What follows is one of the most surreal and bizarre reports Kristi has ever made. Surrounded by three women talking non-stop while showing her how they pay for the clothes brought to them by Elfor residents.

‘How do you determine the payment structure?’ Kristi asks.

‘On the quality.’

‘And the weight.’

‘And if it’s clean,’ Sissy explains. ‘I mean. We can work with rags. Rags is all right for us. We can get ’em stitched into somethin’ and get a bit of colour in ’em. So the girls here get them sorted for us into darks, lights and mixed. Then we get ’em inside and sort ’em into more piles. You know. What’s easy to fix up. What needs a lot of work. Come through. Yeah. Here we are. See? We got these big tables.’

‘That’s where we pick through ’em,’ Sandy says. ‘Then we start work.’

‘So the rags that ain’t no good for anythin’,’ Sally continues, ‘well. They get chopped up and we use ’em to patch up the other garments. You know. To give ’em that Elfor look and plug the holes.’

‘Eh? She likes her holes being plugged!’

‘Get off you dirty mare! Got a mind in the gutter.’

‘She likes it in the gutter an’ all!’

Cackles and booming laughs and it’s impossible not to get drawn in and laugh along as Yasmine hangs back, watching Kristi work her way through the various stations. Talking to the men and women working away.

‘So, I’ve also noticed you don’t use AI fasteners or zippers,’ Kristi observes.

‘We were locked in, love,’ Sissy says. ‘Where we gonna get new zippers and AIs from? Eh? We had to make do with buttons.’

‘Buttons,’ Sally says.

‘Buttons, my love. You can’t beat a button,’ Sissy says. ‘Buttons don’t break. They come off but you can stitch ’em back on. That’s what we did. We stitched ’em back on.’

‘Okay. That makes sense,’ Kristi says. ‘You must have a good supply of buttons then?’

‘Buttons? What do we want buttons for?’ Sandy asks.

‘We don’t keep buttons. We do the stitchin’,’ Sally adds.

‘No! We use Bella,’ Sissy says.

‘Bella?’

‘Bella the Button!’ lots of people say at the same time, as Yasmine laughs at Kristi floundering with a comical help me expression while the Stitcher Sisters usher and shoo her out of their cabin and along to the next one along.

‘BELLA?’ Sissy yells. ‘WE GOT KRISTI CARTER HERE!’

‘WHO?’ another female voice yells from inside the cabin.

‘KRISTI CARTER! She’s deaf as a button,’ Sissy says.

‘Deaf as anything,’ Sandy says.

‘Deaf as you like,’ Sally adds.

‘I’M NOT DEAF!’ Bella shouts, opening her door to peer at Kristi. ‘HERE! THAT’S KRISTI CARTER!’

‘WE SAID THAT!’ the Stitcher Sisters yell back as Kristi gets ushered inside to a world of buttons.

Buttons everywhere. On all sides. On every wall. Buttons in clear boxes arranged by size and in a dazzling display of the full spectrum of colours.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Kristi says in awe at the sight as she turns a circle with her camera up and filming.

‘WHAT DO YOU WANT KRISTI CARTER? YOU NEED SOME BUTTONS? I GOT BUTTONS!’

‘I just wanted to film and see it, if that’s okay,’ Kristi says with a startled look as Bella moves in to grasp the waistband of Kristi’s fitted trousers.

‘WEARING OUT IS IT?’

‘What is?’

‘THE AI. YOU NEED A BUTTON ON THAT,’ Bella says before shuffling off to mooch through the clear display units with a glance back. ‘GET ’EM OFF THEN! THEY CAN’T STITCH ’EM WITH YOU IN ’EM CAN THEY.’

‘Sorry, what?’ Kristi asks as Bella comes back with buttons in her hands and presses the AI activation sensor to make the top of Kristi’s trousers unfasten. ‘Okay, right. We’re doing it right now are we?’ she asks with another glance at Yasmine laughing at the sight.

‘You wanted the experience,’ Yasmine says as Kristi somehow ends up in her underwear in the middle of Bella’s cabin with Bella disappearing off to see the Stitcher Sisters with Kristi’s trousers.

‘I want to see how they do it!’ Kristi says, looking around for something to cover her modesty with. ‘Stuff it!’ she says, rushing out in her blouse and knickers with Yasmine still laughing and following behind, as Kristi strides past Blusher blushing the most he’s ever blushed at the sight of Kristi’s bottom going by.

‘Here! She’s all nudey!’ Sissy yells as Kristi walks in.

‘I’ve got knickers on!’ Kristi says, getting into the middle to watch as the AI sensor and fittings get removed from her trousers and the new buttons get stitched in by Sandy using a needle and thread. A few moments later and she’s tugging her trousers back up and sliding the buttons through the newly made buttonholes before wiggling around in front of her camera.

‘Well there you have it folks. I am now the proud owner of genuine Elfor buttoned trousers. And you know what? They feel great! This is Kristi Carter, in the Bowbells with the Stitcher Sisters!’

She signs off with a smile and a wink, then quickly swipes to send the recordings to Kasim.

‘That was incredible!’ Kristi says, following Yasmine back along the alley she thought she’d get stabbed to death in. ‘I love the Sisters! Honestly. I might put them forward for a reality show. Could you imagine it? The Stitcher Sisters Show? How cool would that be.’

Yasmine smiles, sensing a different energy in Kristi as they enter Neon City’s main strip just in time for Sticky Dicky’s hot food stall to open.

‘You hungry?’ Yasmine asks. ‘I’m getting a rat skewer. You want one?’

‘Er, sure,’ Kristi says, watching as Yasmine is greeted by just about everyone they pass.

‘Yassy!’ Sticky Dicky says on seeing her. ‘I went up and saw the new store.’

‘Two skewers please, Dicky. Did you like it?’ Yasmine asks.

‘Couldn’t really get near it with all the crowds. I’ll go back up in a few days. Weird though eh? People paying creds for our old clothes.’

‘Yassy?’ a woman calls, waving her hand as she rushes over. ‘Someone said Abdul’s buying old clothes.’

‘Yeah, you need to see the Sisters,’ Yasmine says, leaving Kristi at the stall.

‘You know what I mean though?’ Dicky asks Kristi while busying himself with sizzling rats on hot pans. ‘Who’d want to buy our old clothes? I’ll have to look through and see what I’ve got, probably all stinks of fried rat though,’ he adds with a laugh. ‘Good though. You know. What Abdul’s doing. He got Dil the cleaning contracts and that’s given a lot of people jobs, and course, the jobs they had are now available so everyone kinda moves up a notch. Know what I mean? And it’s better now that Dmitri’s gone, and his crew. Mind you, that’s down to Abdul and Yassy too. I mean. Officially Dmitri’s crew went off to live somewhere else, but everyone knows Abdul mulched Mad Eyes while Yassy put Dmitri down on the Beijing. And good on her! Dmitri made her life hell for years. Flipping good riddance too, mind my language. But he went for her first though. Dmitri I mean. What was she supposed to do? Yeah. We’re all glad she did it. Righto. Two skewers for the pretty blonde! Ten creds. Swipe there.’

‘Ten!?’ Yasmine calls, rushing over.

‘Sorry! Old habits,’ Dicky says, holding his hands up. ‘Elfor prices. Four each. Call it eight.’

‘It’s fine. There’s ten,’ Kristi says, taking the skewers while feeling a weird sensation at what she just heard about Yasmine killing Dmitri. She shoots another look at her as they stroll on. Dmitri was a hard man, and she just can’t see how someone like Yasmine could kill him. An urge to ask Yasmine if it’s true flares up, but she resists, knowing she’ll get told to fuck off.

So instead, she strolls along and bites into the piping-hot freshly cooked meat as they pass another eatery and a news feed glowing outside showing Kristi Carter’s report from the Bowbells with the Stitcher Sisters.

‘Do you find it weird seeing yourself?’ Yasmine asks.

‘I hate it,’ Kristi admits. ‘I used to obsess over my flaws and get really anxious.’

‘What flaws?’

Kristi snorts. ‘Trust me. I use very good foundations and concealers. I’ve got really big pores on my nose and cheeks.’

‘So?’ Yasmine says with a scowl. ‘Who gives a shit? You look great. Fuck what anyone else thinks.’

‘Thank you, and yeah, I’ve kind of learnt that now, and I don’t watch my own material . . . But if I have to then I focus on the content and not me.’

Yasmine figures that makes sense, and then also figures she would absolutely detest seeing herself on feeds all the time. ‘I think it’s amazing,’ she says seriously, earning a surprised look. ‘That you can do it. Honestly.’

Kristi feels the sincerity within the words and smiles a thank you as they amble along the main strip and watch Neon City gearing up for the day. She chews a chunk of meat and decides to try something light and easy. ‘How’s Sam?’ she asks casually.

Yasmine shrugs. ‘He’s okay. Busy,’ she adds as they walk on. ‘How’s Zhang?’

That’s good, Kristi thinks. Yasmine is showing a returned interest. ‘He’s okay,’ she says, still casual and chatty. ‘Busy,’ she adds with a smile at the shared word. ‘I’ve hardly seen him if I’m honest,’ she says, thereby alluding to something personal and private.

Yasmine snorts in a way that comes across like yeah, me too as Kristi wonders what Yasmine really stole from the Fleet Finance offices and what the hell is really going on while Yasmine also falls to silence with a voice in her head screaming once again that she’s broken and so messed up she can’t have sex with own boyfriend so someone please tell me what to do before I lose him. ‘Sam too. Hardly see him I mean,’ she says instead.

‘But you’re living together?” Kristi asks.

‘Yeah. I guess so. We never actually talked about it though. I mean. I’m just kind of there.’

‘Same,’ Kristi says. ‘I’m like that at Zhang’s. I’m just kind of there.’

‘But you live somewhere else though?’ Yasmine asks as Kristi shrugs.

‘If I had to answer I’d say I lived on the Ark. The studio provides a cabin, but it’s not really home.’

‘Where is then?’

Kristi shrugs again. Not really having an answer to give. ‘I’m a fleet nomad,’ she says with a smile as they reach the stairwell and ditch the empty skewers into the newly installed recycling bins.

‘Did you want to use the elevator?’ Yasmine asks. ‘I prefer the stairs, but we can do that if you want.’

‘Stairs are good. Stop me getting fat and breaching my contract,’ Kristi says while thinking she’s actually lost weight in the last two weeks due to the astonishing amount of sex she’s having with Zhang. Every night, and sometimes several times a night, and Yasmine takes her turn to detect a fleeting look of worry in Kristi’s features, but she doesn’t ask and instead they head back up to Level 30 and out into a world packed with people.

‘Urgh. I really don’t fancy this today,’ Kristi says.

‘Don’t then,’ Yasmine says, and Kristi ponders the meaning and intent of don’t then. Which, coming from Yasmine simply means she won’t do what she doesn’t want to do, and suddenly a whole new way of being seems to open up. A way of life in which she can be tough and bold like Yasmine and swear and cuss and do what she wants.

‘I mean. I could do with a coffee after that rat skewer,’ Kristi suggests.

‘Cool,’ Yasmine says, setting off with Kristi figuring what the hell and rushing off after her as they stride into the lanes with a very surreal few moments of nearly every Elforist greeting Yasmine, and everyone else ogling, pointing, gawping and smiling at Kristi, and with a few stops for pics and digi-autographs for good measure. ‘Doesn’t that drive you mad?’ Yasmine asks as they finally reach Sven’s Eatery.

‘I gotta be honest. I quite like it,’ Kristi admits. ‘Egomaniac,’ she adds with a comical face.

‘Look who turned up for work!’ Sven greets them as they walk into the café.

‘Do one,’ Yasmine says, slipping behind the counter to make two coffees.

‘Er, your morning off is over,’ Sven points out.

‘I’ve got another hour!’

‘My fault,’ Kristi says. ‘I kept Yasmine busy helping me.’

‘Well. Don’t think you can smile at me with your famous blue eyes and distract my righteous anger . . . Which you totally can do, by the way,’ Sven adds with a wink before throwing another mock scowl at Yasmine.

‘Go fly a shuttle,’ Yasmine says, flicking him a middle finger before taking the coffees from the machine.

‘I did! Tell Kristi about it. Ask her about the shuttle,’ Sven tells Kristi as they go out. ‘I was a hero!’

‘He was actually,’ Yasmine says, threading a route to the back to an empty table where they sit down and sip the synth coffees.

‘Was that Sven flying the Elfor One shuttle?’ Kristi asks, shooting a look back at the gnarly chef behind the counter waving a ladle about.

‘You say flying,’ Yasmine says with a laugh. ‘More like not-crashing is how Abdul described it.’

Kristi laughs, once again getting an overwhelming vibe that there is so much more going on, but she has to go careful and so she once more fights the urge to ask questions. ‘So, what about you?’ she asks casually. ‘You like working here?’

‘Wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t. You?’

‘Me what?’ Kristi asks.

‘You like it here?’

‘The café or the Humility?’

Yasmine pauses as she realises she was just returning the question without any real thought. ‘Both,’ she says.

‘I love the café,’ Kristi says. ‘But the Humility? Jesus. That’s a question. And I could answer it truthfully, but I’m meant to stay impartial.’

Yasmine smiles at the reply. ‘Is there anywhere else like here?’

‘Like the Humility?’ Kristi asks, seeing the genuine desire to know in Yasmine’s eyes. ‘You’ve been off the ship, haven’t you?’

‘Only to the Ark, and the Beijing,’ Yasmine says.

Kristi pulls a face at the unexpected reply while thinking Yasmine would have travelled loads if she was a top-level secret operative. But then she’s only seen Yasmine working at the café for the last two weeks. And she’s been here every day. Kristi figures that’s Yasmine’s cover. Or her fallback normal life in between spying for Helga or whoever hires her.

‘No,’ she says after a second’s worth of thought. ‘There’s nowhere really like the Humility. I mean, all the Virtue ships kind of look the same inside, except the Ab-Spa, but you’ve seen that, right?’

‘The Ab-Spa? God no.’

‘You should! You’d love it,’ Kristi says. ‘But yeah. Having the Elfors gives this ship a uniqueness you don’t get anywhere else.’

Yasmine thinks for a second while sipping her coffee. ‘What’s your favourite ship?’

‘My favourite? Oh God. I think you ask anyone that’s travelled a lot and they’ll say the Ark.’

‘Really? It’s just where people work though,’ Yasmine says.

‘No, it’s got residential zones. Big ones too, and retail hubs and bars and cafés and it’s just lively and different. And it’s run properly. I mean, going to the British ship, or the French one is cool for a visit, and the American ship is an experience, but you couldn’t live on them.’

Yasmine nods, never having really thought about what the other ships look like, or what life is like for the people on them. She just always assumed whatever lives they had would be better.

‘Get Sam to take you,’ Kristi says, breaking into her thoughts.

‘Take me where?’

‘The Ab-Spa,’ Kristi says.

‘Get off. How much does that cost?’

‘For Pretty Boy? Who is now working for Helga and who just did a massive gig for Chi-Chi?’

Yasmine smiles and watches as Kristi leans in to rest her elbows on the table with her hands cupping her beaker of coffee. ‘They’ve got this pool. The Serenity Pool,’ Kristi says with a tone of hushed awe.

‘The big one? They show it on the adverts.’

‘No. The big one is nice, but the Serenity is super-exclusive. It’s built under a completely clear glass screen with this view out to space while you float on your back. And they pump these aromas into the air. Oh my god it’s something else. And the massages! They do these full body massages.’

‘What, naked?’ Yasmine asks with a startled look.

‘Trust me, the way you look? You can be as naked as you want,’ Kristi says. ‘No. You can keep your underwear on or a towel but it’s so relaxing.’

‘Sounds nice,’ Yasmine says, conjuring an image in her mind. ‘Have they got lady massage people though?’

Kristi stops herself from correcting Yasmine and telling her they’re called masseuses. ‘You can request a woman, but I was joking about being naked. They’re very professional.’

‘No, I just, kinda, don’t like being touched sometimes,’ Yasmine says, feeling self-conscious. ‘Probably never go anyway.’

‘Why not? Go! You must need to unwind and destress after what you do.’

‘What, working here? Yeah. I mean. Sam’s hacked our shower so I can have extra time. That’s nice, and I’ve started doing some exercise holos when he works late,’ Yasmine adds, thinking Sam has been working late a lot recently.

‘Just join a gym,’ Kristi says, spotting the look of uncertainty in Yasmine’s eyes. No, not uncertainty, something else. ‘There’s a good PureFleetGym on Level 20 apparently,’ Kristi adds, staying casual and chatty while reading the body language and expressions and the energy coming from Yasmine. ‘Hey! Tell you what. I’ve got fleet membership. I can sign us both in.’

‘Eh?’ Yasmine asks with a startled look.

‘I’ve actually been dying to go, but I keep putting it off. And honestly, going with someone else is always better. Fancy it?’

‘Fancy what?’

‘The gym,’ Kristi says with a smile as she realises that Yasmine wasn’t being uncertain. She was being vulnerable.

‘I, er,’ Yasmine says, trying to think quickly.

‘Honestly, you’ll be doing me such a favour!’ Kristi says, making sure to keep the tone light and casual.

‘What about Penny? You two are friends,’ Yasmine says.

‘Penny? In a gym?’ Kristi asks in a such a way that it makes Yasmine laugh. ‘And I’ve hardly seen her either. She’s so busy, and Zhang’s working every evening. Shit! Is that the time? I need to get on air. I’ll ping you my details. How does 7 p.m. sound?’

‘No, I . . . I should…’ Yasmine tries to say as Kristi turns on the charm, smiling and pinging Yasmine her details.

‘Add me. It’s Kristi with a K.’

‘I know how to—’ Yasmine says before realising Kristi is teasing her, and she smiles as Kristi gulps the last of her coffee down and begins to head off.

‘Seven p.m. We’re gonna get hench, bro!’ Kristi calls, pulling a quick flexing pose before walking backwards into a big Elfor bruiser. ‘Oops, talking of hench,’ she adds with a comical wince. A second later Yasmine opens her band to see Kristi Carter now added to her contacts. A weird feeling inside. An instinct to say no and stay quiet and keep her head down. She stole the code. She killed Dmitri. She did things. Things that shouldn’t be known about.

Except everyone else is moving on while she’s here living her dream and going home to watch holo movies on her own because Sam is working late again, which is either genuine, or he’s avoiding coming home because she won’t have sex with him.

‘YASSY!’ Sven shouts from inside while waving a ladle about dripping with porridge. ‘We’re out of bowls!’

She rolls her eyes and sets off to live the life she always wanted while talking herself out of any ideas about gyms and hanging out with Kristi Carter.

Stick to the plan. Head down.

Live quietly.

16

The very last thing Kristi expected to see in Yasmine was a look of vulnerability and an admission that she hasn’t really travelled in the fleet at all, or had a massage, or seen the Ab-Spa.

Which doesn’t sit right.

Plus, there’s the whole Zhang thing going on too.

Kristi figured it was the start of something amazing and wonderful – but the only thing that is amazing and wonderful is the sex and even that is starting to wear thin, and it won’t be long before it becomes a chore.

Which is because the sex is the only connection they have. That’s it. They don’t really talk. Zhang never mentions his work other than to moan about Colin constantly looking over his shoulder or being micro-managed. But nothing about his cases. And he’s become even more distant the last week or so. He’s coming home later and leaving earlier – and they’re not really messaging during the day so much either. And again, when they do it’s about nothing of consequence.

Hey, how are you?

Hey, how’s your day?

Hey, have you eaten?

That’s not a relationship – and of course, she still strongly believes that Zhang is also in the middle of whatever is going on. He’s part of Helga’s circle. Kristi can feel it in her bones.

Which is confusing, because Helga has taken great pains to be very transparent and open and so from all of it, from everything Kristi has seen and filmed, there is no sign of a secret or a conspiracy from anyone.

But Helga still lied and Yasmine, who is meant to be a top-level covert agent, hasn’t travelled and doesn’t know what a masseuse is. Unless of course Yasmine wanted Kristi to think that. Which is what a covert agent would do to protect their cover – except it didn’t feel like that. It felt real and like there was a real sense of sadness in Yasmine.

Which is exactly the kind of dangling thread that Kristi is good at tugging.

She finds Rona and gears up to get back on air while suspecting that Yasmine will see through the ploy and either cancel the gym tonight, or just simply avoid Kristi altogether.

But then, Kristi has to admit, that even though it is a ploy, it would actually be cool to go to the gym with Yasmine and have something else to do tonight.

But she won’t.

Kristi would put credits on it.

17

‘Honestly. I would have put credits on this not happening tonight,’ Kristi says as the door to Zhang’s cabin swishes back to reveal Yasmine in gym gear and a nervous glint in her eyes.

‘Why? Did you change your mind?’

‘No! I just thought I was being too pushy. I get like that with people sometimes.’

Yasmine shrugs, feeling relieved that she didn’t misread the invite. Because by the end of her shift she had totally convinced herself she did misread the invite and Kristi was just being polite. She even wrote a message saying she couldn’t make it. But she deleted it and wrote another one saying she had to work late. But that one got deleted too, and she wrote a few more before becoming increasingly annoyed and telling herself to get a fucking grip.

At which point she realised she didn’t own, nor had never owned, anything even remotely close to gym clothes.

Like seriously.

What the shit did people actually wear to the gym? She searched it online and was quickly horrified at the images of big-boobed women in skin-tight thin bits of whatever that was meant to be. Seriously. You could see everything. And there was no way Yasmine was ever going to wear anything like that.

She then searched normal women gym clothes and was slightly less horrified at the outfits on suggestion, although still slightly horrified at the effort seemingly needed to meet the required fashions in exercise clothing.

But, as it turned out, the fleet gods were smiling because they sent help in the form of Clara calling into the café for some food after finishing a very busy day training new recruits and former stair guards in how to manage big crowds without zapping the shit out of them with voltage sticks.

‘You’re going to the gym?’ Clara asked while tucking into a very big plate of grilled rat. ‘You?’

‘Yes.’

‘The gym?’

‘Yes!’

Clara paused as her mind flooded with witty comments about the thought of Yassy going to the gym. But then she saw that same vulnerability and so instead she smiled. ‘Tell you what, sweetie. Let me eat this then we’ll go grab you some gear. I know a place.’

‘Seriously? Like, not joshing.’

‘Straight up. We’ll get you sorted. Don’t you worry about that.’

* * *

‘And wow,’ Kristi says as she takes in Yasmine’s outfit. ‘You look amazing!’

‘Thanks,’ Yasmine says, as uncomfortable as ever at being complimented on what she looks like over who she is as a person. ‘And you too,’ she says, thinking to return the compliment.

Both of them in the same tight leggings interlaced with fine mesh AI that tightens for compression on detection of muscle contraction, and the same baggy mesh tops. Self-drying towels over shoulders and AI cooling beakers filled with rehydration liquids.

They make awkward over-the-shoulder small talk while heading up the stairs to Level 20 and into the gleaming virtual reception for PureFleetGym where Kristi swipes her band and accesses the system to admit her guest with two big green smiley-faced ticks blooming up.

Get sweating, guys! High-five on that! an automated voice calls out, a big glowing hand appearing in the air in front of Yasmine.

‘Go fuck yourself,’ Yasmine says automatically, earning a delighted look from Kristi as an older lady in ultra-skin-tight, everything-hanging-out gym gear snaps her head over with a shocked expression. ‘Sorry. I hate high-fives,’ Yasmine says with a wince, covering her mouth to apologise for swearing and suddenly feeling very common and very Elforist in such a nice high-end place.

‘No. I hate them too, and yeah, go fuck yourself,’ Kristi tells the hovering hand as she marches past and into the main gym with Yasmine walking in behind with a wide-eyed look at the weird and wonderful world of fitness fashion.

‘Jesus. Is anyone actually doing any exercise?’ she asks, seeing every single person posing or talking into their cameras.

Kristi snorts a laugh, seeing the same thing as they head past selfie-taking weightlifters posing next to hovering Olympic resin bars glowing with virtual plates at both ends denoting the weight of the gravity increase on the bar.

Resistance machines of the same kind line the room. Machines with handles to be pushed while the mechanism responds to increase or decrease the gravitational pull. Chest presses. Shoulder presses. Leg presses and more – and none of them actually being used for anything other than scenery.

‘I booked us a VR track,’ Kristi says.

‘What’s that?’ Yasmine asks, following Kristi into a private room with pulsing digital green walls.

Welcome back, Kristi Carter, a soft female automated voice says. Please make yourself ready and select your location.

‘Where do you fancy?’ Kristi asks, spotting the confusion on Yasmine’s face and again thinking surely a top-level operative would know how a VR fitness track works. ‘Central Park?’ she asks, swiping an icon so Yasmine finds herself on a concrete path within New York’s Central Park.

Yasmine turns a circle, stunned at the transformation, with a thrill inside that turns to a jolt of fear when she looks up and steps back in alarm. ‘Fuck!’

‘Sorry,’ Kristi says, turning it off as Yasmine gasps with a hand on her chest. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t think to ask if you were VR-agoraphobic.’

‘I don’t know what that means,’ Yasmine says. ‘But that sky! Oh shit.’

‘Yeah, it’s the fear of open spaces in VR,’ Kristi says delicately. ‘But it’s really common though. You know, we’re so used to ceilings,’ she says with an apologetic wince while pointing up at their own ceiling. ‘Feels weird doesn’t it.’

‘How did people live like that?’ Yasmine asks.

‘It was normal for them,’ Kristi says.

‘I thought I was going to like, float off or something. Urgh. Wow. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—’

‘No! It’s fine. We can try another one. Er . . . Ah, this is a good one. It replicates one of the running circuits on the Ark,’ Kristi says as the room changes once again, but thankfully this time to a perfect simulation of a ceilinged space within the Ark and a track running along the inside of a wall fitted with digital screens showing the outside. ‘Better?’

‘Yeah, yeah this is good,’ Yasmine says.

‘Commencing motion in five . . . four . . . three.’

The countdown reaches zero and Yasmine looks down to the treadmill floor moving and then up to the walls going by and the screens and people, and she leans past Kristi to play with angles and perspectives, her senses telling her all this is real. ‘So we could have walked through that Central Park place?’

‘Or ran. That’s what I use it for. I think most people do, who aren’t scared of the sky, I mean. Ready to go a bit faster?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Yasmine says as Kristi makes a motion with her right hand to speed up the treadmill. Yasmine feels a gentle lurch as she starts walking at a brisk pace.

‘They say walking is the new running actually,’ Kristi says. ‘Better on the joints and it burns soooo many calories.’

‘So do stairs,’ Yasmine mutters, still staring around in awe.

‘I’m so glad you’re with me actually,’ Kristi says a moment later. ‘I haven’t done any exercise for ages and it’s weird but if I go to the gym on my own then people always try and talk to me, but it’s not so bad when I’m with someone else.’

Yasmine nods, feeling stupid and out of her depth. But it was also quite nice being able to text Sam about something different.

Hey, so, just in case you get back later and I’m not here, I’m at the gym with Kristi Carter.

Sam replied almost straight away, and she opened the message with a smile, expecting him to be like, with Kristi Carter???? Seriously???

But he didn’t say that.

K. Have fun.

That was it and she’d felt another pang of rejection and confusion, while also kind of suspecting that Sam was probably massively distracted and if she went up to the bridge he would smile and snap out of his focus for a few minutes.

‘Sam working late again?’ Kristi asks, punching into Yasmine’s thoughts.

‘Yeah. What about Zhang?’

‘Same. I think. I don’t know,’ Kristi admits, starting to breathe hard from the speed-walking. ‘I messaged him and said I was going to the gym. You know what he said? He said K. Just the letter K. He couldn’t even be arsed to write the word.’

‘Sam did that,’ Yasmine says and Kristi shoots her a look.

‘Seriously? I thought Pretty Boy would be like super-chatty literally all the time.’

‘Nope. He gets very distracted,’ Yasmine says. But then she can hardly blame him. It’s not like he can make love to his girlfriend. Or even kiss her.

And there it is again. That surge of self-loathing and guilt and rage at what Dmitri did and how he’s fucked her life up and again she wants to break down and cry and run the fucking scan so it can tell her how to fix it while not being able to do any of those things, and instead she speed-walks along while Kristi works out the best way of getting into Yasmine’s life, while also thinking about Zhang, and how the connection they have is growing weaker all the time.

She knows he’s working hard. And she gets he has a difficult job to do. But still. The least he could do is talk about it a little.

* * *

Except Zhang can’t talk about it. Firstly, because the thing he’s working on is not for open discussion.

Which is why he’s being so quiet with everyone and not just Kristi.

It’s the murders that have got him all wound up. The murders that took place during the dark days following the riots, perpetrated by the gangs in tit-for-tat attacks.

But that’s the thing, because not all of them were done by the gangs, despite it appearing to have been that way.

He sits at his desk in his office staring at screens of data showing victims and locations of murders. Forensic reports and witness statements that they’ve been able to gather now the gangs have been tracked and stopped. His dark brooding eyes flicking from report to report.

Someone passes the glass wall of his office. A glance at two young officers. Fresh recruits. Both female. Both early twenties. Both pretty. They both smile and he feels his sex addiction flare, so he turns away to focus on the reports.

Kristi’s image swims to mind. Her blue eyes and the way she smiles at him. The feel of her lips. The feel of her body. He shifts in his seat, refusing to succumb to the urges. Gaining more control day by day, but – he admits to himself – only because he knows he will go home later to Kristi Carter in his cabin. And that thought is the only thing keeping his addiction under control.

And it’s hard, because his compulsion has been a big part of Zhang’s life and got way out of control. So to challenge it now takes more effort than he ever realised. But it has to be done.

Besides, these fucking murders.

He grunts again and taps his display to bring up all the victims. All the people killed during the riots. All of their faces and names, dates and locations.

Another swipe and he brings another face up. Stella Yeah Yeah.

Another swipe and one more face pops up on top of them all.

Mahatma Goudier, at the top of the murder tree, and he’s sure as shit that Mahatma wasn’t killed by Dmitri or his crew.

‘I’m off.’ A gruff voice at his door. He swipes the images away and turns to see Colin Sanders in his doorway. ‘What did you just close?’

‘Really?’ Zhang asks, giving him a look.

‘Yes. Really. I am your CO. What did you just shut down. Was it porn?’

‘What the fuck! No! It was data,’ Zhang says, bringing some of the murder victims back up.

Colin nods. Seemingly satisfied. ‘How are the prosecution files coming along?’

Zhang shrugs. ‘I’m getting there.’

‘End of the week,’ Colin says, heading for the door, where he pauses to look back again. ‘You’re a brilliant detective, Zhang, but your paperwork is a fucking disgrace. I expect people on my teams to be good all-rounders. Are you mimicking me?’ he snaps at Zhang moving his lips in time to the speech he’s already heard a dozen times.

‘No.’

‘No, sir.’

Zhang swallows his irritation and sits up straight. ‘No, sir,’ he growls.

‘End of the week,’ Colin adds, walking out, leaving Zhang to sink back in his chair before groaning at the sight of Jorgey leaning on his doorframe.

‘You need this, Zhang,’ she says with a smile.

‘I need it like I need another hole in my ass.’

‘I was too soft on you for too long. Colin’s good for you. I’ve never seen you work so hard. And you’re on time. You were never on time for me.’

He flaps a hand, figuring she’s right but like hell he’d ever admit it.

‘Anyway. I’m off. You okay?’

He nods as she chuckles and turns away. ‘Don’t work too late, Zhangy. You’ve got a beautiful woman waiting for you.’

He waves a hand while thinking Jorgey is right. Kristi is waiting for him. No. Wait. She was going to the gym. Okay. That’s cool. That means he can go over the data one more time before he heads off, because that’s the thing about some types.

They just don’t know when to let go.

* * *

Sam’s no different.

Up on the bridge also surrounded by screens of data. Days of growth on his jawline because, you know, the whole beard-growing thing is underway, and he’s doing more press-ups and getting all buff and ripped.

Well. Not exactly buff and ripped.

Not with the constant rounds of food and goodies Helga keeps bringing him. While also telling him to go down and use her private bathroom to shower.

‘Oh, and I had some clothes brought in for you. Leave the dirty ones. I’ll have them cleaned,’ she said late last night.

Which was very nice of her. But then Helga is a very nice lady and nothing like what Sam thought she’d be like. She comes up to the bridge and asks questions then nods and tells him he’s doing great work and asks if he wants anything.

Sometimes she stands by the windows and stares out and says nothing at all. And sometimes Abdul comes up and sits near her, or also stares out of the windows. And that’s nice too. They don’t hassle him, and if anything, they seem to genuinely enjoy his company – and most importantly, they leave him to it.

Which is awesome.

But not as awesome as having a whole worldship’s mainframe computer to work with. Jesus. Now that’s power.

Which is good because that’s exactly what Sam needs while still trying to figure out why the bloody shitting hell the whole fleet moved.

It did. He saw it. He was up here, and he saw every aft burner glowing on every vessel all at the same time. Which meant the fleet adjusted course.

Except there was no record or Navi-Read code released to say why.

Which then made Sam think again about the code Yassy took for the new planet and how he wants to know what it means – but he can’t, because the only way is by putting it into Navi-Read and thereby telling every other nerd and geek in the fleet that there’s another planet.

Unless he has his own private-access Navi-Read program to use.

Which means re-writing the original Navi-Read.

Which is what he’s doing.

Which is also why he’s so distracted, and why he’s so glad of the computational power the ship’s mainframe gives him.

And so he works on, developing codes to help re-write the vast software of the original Navi-Read while also figuring he might as well take every navigational code ever released, and see what adjustments the fleet has taken since they set off – while also avoiding that other thing going on.

Yeah.

That thing.

He grimaces at the thought of Yasmine, with a strange mix of emotions.

Attraction. Desire. Longing and need, all muddied by feeling guilty and wretched for the times he got horny and she froze up, while also feeling confused because she’s the one who keeps trying to have sex.

Nor will she talk about it. Sam’s tried. She just goes quiet and says sorry and he wants to say he’s not angry and she’s nothing to apologise for, but for the love of the fleet will you please get some help because I don’t know what to do.

He said they didn’t have to have sex. It was fine. But Yasmine clams up. She doesn’t even cry or express anything at all, and Sam doesn’t know what to do, and it’s not right to ask anyone else because it’s private and personal.

And so he stays up on the bridge and focuses on something he can deal with because by buggery the fleet moved and Sam is on it.

He’s going to find out why.

18

‘Are you actually being serious right now?’

‘Yes!’

‘They said you’re not allowed to wear a bra?!’

‘Well. They said a sports bra. But yeah.’

‘Fuck off! What so that young lads and dirty old pervs can watch your boobs bouncing when you run?’

‘Yep. And the nipples.’

‘Nipples?’

‘Nipples. In cold places. The studio said the ratings soared when I went somewhere colder and my nipples stiffened. Seriously. Look online. There are whole sites dedicated to it. And all these weird fetish places with images down blouses and up skirts.’

Yasmine shakes her head, wondering why anyone would ever agree to something like that. ‘And you said yes?’

Kristi nods, feeling strangely ashamed about it all. Zhang bought her an AI sports bra and she’s been wearing it on air ever since. ‘Sex sells.’

‘No, I mean. I get the whole pretty face thing, but bouncing boobs? I’d have mulched them. No. I would! Honestly. I’d have jumped over the desk and punched him in the face.’

‘Next time my contract is up,’ Kristi says with a laugh as they jog on the moving treadmill through the VR-replicated world of the Ark, ‘you can come in with me.’

Yasmine laughs. Shaking her head. ‘You wouldn’t have a contract left. Honestly. My temper sometimes.’

‘Is it that bad?’

‘Yeah!’

‘But you must be very controlled to do what you do.’

‘What, work in a café?’

Kristi covers the error smoothly. Inwardly wincing at nearly slipping up. ‘Yeah. I heard hospitality is the worst for guys pawing at you and people being dicks.’

‘I had it once. A guy stroked my ass.’

‘What happened?’

‘I broke his fingers.’

‘No way!’

‘Then the guy was screaming so Sven came out and was all like, what’s going on and I was like, he grabbed my ass! And then Sven went for him. And trust me, when Sven goes, he goes, and he broke the guy’s nose, then Dil pulled him off and he punched the guy and then Dorka was smacking him over the head with a spoon and telling him if he ever came back we’d eat him.’ Yasmine finishes off, Kristi laughing both at the imagery in her mind and the way Yasmine told the story.

‘I wish I was an Elforist,’ Kristi says, shaking her head.

‘What and grow up starving and abused?’ Yasmine asks and Kristi shoots her a look to see only a hint of humour in her eyes.

‘I didn’t mean . . .’ Kristi starts to say. Feeling that pulse of fear at the flash of dark energy in Yasmine. That flash of rage or pain or defiance or whatever it is that hardens the woman so quickly. ‘Were you abused?’

Yasmine almost flinches at the question, but it was organic and natural and asked in the heat of the moment. ‘We all were,’ she says, looking away. ‘Does this thing do anything else?’

‘Anything else?’ Kristi asks, detecting that subject is now over.

‘I saw something online once, there was a wall and a ball?’

‘Wallball! You want to play that? VR end sim. Play Wallball.’

The treadmill slows to a stop and the surrounding digital world gently fades, to be replaced by a digital brick wall at one end of the room with a golden shining ball hovering in the air.

‘So you just hit it?’ Yasmine asks.

‘No, there are rules. See the lines on the floor. You have to get it over that line and holy shit!’ she shouts when Yasmine slaps the ball, sending it slamming into the wall with a thud.

‘Fuck the rules. Let’s just hit it,’ Yasmine says as Kristi ducks from the ball flying at her. She turns and jumps back as the virtual ball hits the back wall and gets behind it on the return to slam it at the front wall. Yasmine shouts out and lunges to hit it hard, missing and sprawling out, then bouncing back up with a look of delight to go after it.

Another whack and it flies on, both women sprinting back and forth. Grunting and yelling a steady barrage of cussing.

‘Fucker!’ Kristi gasps, smacking it into the wall.

‘Nice!’ Yasmine shouts, getting into the motion with a flare of pleasure at venting the bad energy inside.

Kristi feels it too. The angst about Zhang. The riots she covered. The fear. The sudden crisis she felt about her job and life. Being stuck here and feeling drawn to the Elfors while also repulsed and wanting to leave while all the time knowing there is something else going on. Something that she just can’t get a hook into. She whacks the ball with a loud yell as Yasmine snarls and belts it back.

‘Go on!’ Kristi yells, getting into position to hit the return. ‘FUCKER!’

‘Puta!’

‘Bitch!’

‘Prick!’

‘Bras!’

‘RAR!’

And the grunts and yells keep coming as the virtual ball goes back and forth. Hit after hit after hit. Anger and rage flashing and venting until the sweat pours and they start gasping for air. Chests heaving and leg muscles burning.

Kristi flakes out first. Trying for a lunge and missing, only to sprawl and stay down, gasping for air as the ball slows to a stop. She heaves herself up and over onto her backside to see Yasmine smiling down at her. Holding out a hand to pull her up.

‘I needed that,’ Yasmine says as Kristi rises too fast and bounces into her. The pair of them smiling with flushed cheeks and sweat dripping from noses. ‘Where you going?’ she asks as Kristi heads for the door.

‘Come on. We’re warmed up now . . .’

An hour later they stagger through the doors of PureFleetGym. Both of them flushed and red and hobbling, their hair glued to their heads.

The energy now different. Softer. Less angry. Less formal, after an hour of violent Wallball. An hour of swearing and running.

‘I feel so much better,’ Kristi says as they reach the stairs. ‘Oh god. No, I don’t. I can’t step down,’ she says as Yasmine starts laughing again, watching her trying to step down with a yelp at the pain in her legs. ‘Where you going?’

‘Elevator,’ Yasmine says, shuffling off as Kristi groans and moans about having to climb back up one step.

‘Can I come?’

‘No. Piss off,’ Yasmine says, making Kristi snort a laugh and josh into her side to barge her over as the elevator swooshes to a stop and the door opens.

‘How did you get access to this?’ Kristi asks as they stagger inside.

‘I’m Speshal,’ Yasmine says with an earnest nod, setting Kristi off again. ‘Level 35,’ she calls.

‘Eh?’ Kristi asks, giving her a look. ‘No no no . . . Level 30,’ she calls, getting a comical puzzled look from Yasmine. ‘I need some frigging wine after . . . After whatever that was you just did to me.’

‘I didn’t do anything!’

‘Just one more round, Kristi. That was just the warm-up. Hey, high-five on that!’

‘I never said that!’ Yasmine says, holding her hand up for a high-five as Kristi bursts out laughing and the doors open with them yelping and shuffling out and into the retail zone.

‘Sven’s Eatery? Does he have wine?’ Kristi asks.

‘Yeah, he’s got wine, but let’s try somewhere else. How about in there?’ Yasmine asks, spotting a bar she’s often passed but never drank in. A place that always looked upmarket and decent and filled with professionals unwinding after work.

‘What, like this?’ Kristi asks, looking down at her sweat-drenched clothes.

‘Get off. We’ll be fine,’ Yasmine says, striding in with a big smile to the beefy guy behind the bar. ‘Viktor!’ she says when he grins at her. How’s your mom?’

‘She’s okay,’ Viktor says as Kristi spots the ink on his neck from a subtle UV light pulsing behind the bar. A stick-figure holding a stick. She frowns. Not getting it.

‘Vik the Stick,’ Yasmine says as Viktor rolls his eyes.

‘I was stick-thin,’ he says.

‘You’re not now. Look at your arms,’ Kristi says, making him smile and blush. ‘So, that’s a good question. Can an Elforist change their Elfor name? I mean. You’re not a stick, so would you now get called Viktor Beefcake or Vik the Big Stick? Oh, and two white wines. You want white wine?’

‘I don’t know much about wine,’ Yasmine admits as Viktor pours a little shot into a glass for Yasmine to try.

‘Good?’ he asks getting a nod. ‘And nah, we can’t. I’m Vik the Stick,’ he says with a shrug. ‘And she’ll always be Crazy Yassy.’

‘Is that your Elfor name?’ Kristi asks her.

‘Crazy Yassy!’ Viktor says, pouring the glasses of wine. ‘Or Wild Yassy. That’s what Colly used to yell. Get yo damn ass back here Wild Yassy!’

‘Colly?’ Kristi asks with a laugh at his impression.

‘She raises orphans,’ Yasmine says. ‘She raised me and Penny, and er, some other kids,’ she adds in a quieter voice. ‘Cheers, Vik.’

They take the drinks to a booth and settle in with groans of pain and pleasure. ‘Should have showered in the gym,’ Kristi says and Yasmine shrugs.

‘Shower when you get home. Has Zhang hacked his? You can use mine if you want an extra-long one.’

‘Oh bless, thank you, but yeah, he’s hacked it,’ Kristi says before taking a gulp of wine. ‘So, you mind me asking? You’re an orphan?’

Yasmine nods. ‘My mom died giving birth.’

‘But your dad?’ Kristi ventures gently.

‘No idea. She was a hooker.’

Kristi frowns. Focusing sharper for a second.

‘What?’ Yasmine asks.

‘Nothing,’ Kristi says quickly, shaking her head. ‘That’s just really sad. Mind you, my mom and dad split up. He was off sexing his way around the fleet while Mom was banging her FleetYoga instructor. Talk about clichéd. They were okay though. I mean. Could have been a lot worse.’

Yasmine nods. Somewhat mesmerised by the admission of a life less than perfect and the glimpse into Kristi’s world. ‘Do you have brothers and sisters?’

‘Nope. Just me. You?’ Kristi asks.

‘No. Well. Unless whoever my dad is had more,’ Yasmine says with a shrug.

‘So, you’ve no idea who he is,’ Kristi says as Yasmine shakes her head. ‘Not even a slight idea?’

‘Honestly. Literally no idea. He’s probably some lowlife deadbeat piece of shit. I mean. Look how I turned out.’

‘What? No! You’re beautiful. Well. I mean. You’re a sweaty blob right now. But then we both are. Honestly, we should have showered in the gym. Do I smell? Can you smell sweat? Anyway. No. You’ve got it together. You’re with Pretty Boy and you’ve got a career.’

‘At the café?’

‘I mean the other . . . I mean, yeah, the café’s a career. God, that’s Nordic Sven’s Eatery and his famous porridge and jam and it’s literally been the epicentre of the whole fleet for the last few weeks.’

‘No. It’s a café. And you compare that to your life. Successful. Famous. A journalist travelling all over the fleet interviewing famous people.’

‘It’s not as good as it sounds. You want another glass? That went down very well. Vik? Can we get two more please? Thank you!’

Yasmine shakes her head as the fresh glasses come over and settles back with another gulp of the lovely wine. ‘Nah. I get it that everyone has their own issues, but you must realise your life is blessed compared to nearly everyone else’s.’

‘Blessed how?’

‘Blessed how, she says. You’re Kristi Carter!’

‘That’s just a name.’

‘Okay,’ Yasmine says, leaning back in with another drink of wine. ‘You’re very beautiful.’

‘I have blue eyes. My hair is not naturally blond, and I wear a lot of foundation and concealer.’

‘Cheekbones?’ Yasmine says.

‘Okay. Fine. I’ve got nice cheekbones.’

‘You’ve got an amazing career. People listen to you and . . . And they use what you say to decide how to live and what decisions to make. Who else can do that? I can’t do that.’

‘You bloody do! Every single Elforist we’ve seen today has come running at you asking about this and that and what’s going on.’

‘That’s nowhere near the same,’ Yasmine says, taking another big gulp as Viktor watches them from the bar and replaces their glasses when they run out. ‘So. Amazing career. Great cheekbones – and that’s coming from someone who hates compliments about how I look.’

‘No! Do you really?’ Kristi asks, waving her to stop talking. ‘No. Go back. Why don’t you like people saying you’re pretty?’

‘Shush!’ Yasmine says with a laugh at the way Kristi keeps waving to shut her up. ‘And you’ve got a . . . A boyfriend.’

‘Whoa! What were you going to say?’ Kristi asks, detecting the pause and the way Yasmine mentally reworded her phrasing.

‘Nothing!’

‘You were! Say it.’

‘I wasn’t going to say anything!’

‘You so were!’ Kristi says, leaning in closer to whisper, both of them giggling and laughing. ‘Were you gonna say sex pest?’

‘No!’ Yasmine says with a loud laugh.

‘You were! You were going to say sex pest.’

‘He’s not a sex pest. Zhang isn’t like that. He’s just . . .’

‘What!?’

‘Nothing!’

‘Say it!’ Kristi says as they drain their glasses and get another silent replacement.

‘Whatever. Admit your life is blessed.’

Kristi sits back, smiling and giggling at the conversation. ‘I know he’s a sex addict, but yeah, maybe some parts of it are blessed. But! No. Hang on. Right. Cos this is where I get annoyed cos people think I just got it all handed to me. I didn’t come from wealth, I had to work for my career and do all the shitty stories for years! Then I was doing the educational podcasts, and being slim comes from not eating.’

‘Okay. Okay. I get it. You couldn’t eat the cake. Poor you.’

‘You bitch!’ Kristi says with a delighted laugh at being poked fun at. ‘Miss Hot Elforist over there currently dating the fleet’s most eligible bachelor.’

‘Yeah. Something like that,’ Yasmine says, the chuckles easing down to a low giggle. Kristi the same. Both tipsy and flushed and still smiling. ‘You working in the morning?’

Kristi nods and pulls a face. ‘You?’

‘Yeah, but serving porridge isn’t the same as being on air doing pieces to camera.’

‘Pieces to camera,’ Kristi says at the same time, making them both laugh again. ‘Hey. All credits are good credits. Isn’t that what they say?’

‘No questions asked,’ Yasmine and Viktor both say, as he supplies them with fresh glasses. ‘You think you’ll be here long?’ Yasmine asks.

‘On the Humility?’ Kristi asks. ‘I don’t know. I mean. I thought maybe . . . you know . . . something might develop with Zhang, and I could put some roots down or something. But . . .’

‘Roots,’ Yasmine says with a gentle smile. ‘I never wanted roots. Now I do.’ She frowns. Not sure of what she wants.

‘Do you?’ Kristi asks, detecting the energy changing.

They share a look over the rims of their glasses with things hanging unsaid in the air, then Yasmine pulls a cross-eyed look making Kristi snort her mouthful back into her glass which sloshes up into her eyes, which in turn makes Yasmine do the same as Viktor looks for a cloth.

They leave a short time later. Bumping into each other. Laughing. Giggling. Flushed and dishevelled, and cross the retail zone over to the stairwell and down to their Levels. The lights now dimmed for night. The air quiet. The two of them shushing each other as they trip and stagger and laugh harder until they say goodnight and head off in separate directions.

Both of them feeling the release of bad energy and figuring they really needed tonight, and Kristi doesn’t even think about Yasmine’s secret life, and Yasmine doesn’t think about the code.

They reach their respective cabins, both women sighing at the fact their partners are not there. But Kristi figures it’s quite nice to have a break from the sex before giggling at the jokes and fun she had with Yasmine.

Quick showers and they clamber into their tubes. Both still flushed and drunk and still smiling as the alcohol pulls them quickly down into sleep.

A deep sleep for Yasmine, but not so deep for Kristi. Not when Zhang comes home in the early hours and showers before climbing into the tube to wrap his arms around her, and starts kissing her neck. Five minutes later and she’s once more on her back with Zhang between her legs – except this time, and for the first time since they started whatever this is, she doesn’t orgasm.

Instead, she stares up at the top of the tube and thinks about the fun she had as Zhang worships her body like a man praying to his God.

19

‘You look like shit,’ Sven says the next morning when Yasmine arrives for work.

She sticks a finger up and heads behind the counter in urgent need of porridge to line her stomach so she can take meds and perhaps attach an IV drip of coffee to her arm, because she doesn’t just look like shit, she feels like it too.

She woke feeling like some form of primeval swamp-dwelling monster as her morning feed switched over to Kristi Carter’s daily early piece to camera.

‘And good morning, folks! Here we are on another grand day in space! You know? I really should go back to counting the years, months, weeks, and days since we set off, but hey, a gal can only do so much, so if any nerds out there want to work it out for me then please do! Anyway. What’s the plan for today? I don’t know. I just woke up, and I have a raging hangover thanks to Vik the Stick keeping them wines a’coming!’

Yasmine snorted a loud laugh while on the toilet at that line.

‘Oh yes. Guess who had a few too many wines last night after playing some very intense Wallball with a friend, and boy am I feeling it. I can’t walk! And did I say I was hungover? Don’t drink, kids. It’s not worth it. And don’t exercise either. It hurts. Whatever. Don’t listen to me. I’m going to get coffee and see what fun the Humility has in store for us today. Back to you, Teddy!’

Another very surreal moment then came to pass, because normally Yasmine would listen to something like that and wonder what it must be like to play Wallball with a friend and then go and drink wine in a fancy bar – but she did that. And not only did she do that, she did it with the person currently telling the whole fleet about it.

Which was all a bit much for Yasmine’s rather fragile state of mind, so after showering, she headed to the café for the aforementioned pre-narcotic porridge and intravenously administered coffee.

‘Why are you looking at your forearm?’ Sven asks, staring over her shoulder.

‘Looking for a vein.’

‘Oh,’ Sven says, wondering if Yasmine is contemplating suicide. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks, in a voice that clearly hopes she doesn’t try and unburden her woes on him.

‘Yeah, why?’ she asks, seeing him looking worried. ‘Dick. For the IV coffee.’

‘Oh,’ he says again, not getting a word of it but figuring at least she’s not unburdening herself. ‘Great,’ he adds before going back to the never-ending sea of porridge.

‘Coffee,’ a husky voice calls before a woman comes through the door with a pair of bloodshot blue eyes peeking out from beneath an old-style silver mesh flat cap tugged low. ‘Don’t even talk to me,’ she croaks on seeing Yasmine. ‘Not even,’ she adds with a hand up as Yasmine snorts a laugh that sets Kristi off. ‘Stop it. Laughing hurts my ass muscles,’ Kristi says, gripping her own bum cheeks as Yasmine laughs again with a beaker of coffee in her hands. ‘Is that coffee?’ Kristi asks, motioning it over as Yasmine shakes her head and steps back. ‘Give me that bloody coffee, Yassy!’

‘It’s mine! Get your own!’ Yasmine laughs as Kristi walks behind the counter.

‘I bloody will,’ Kristi mutters while snorting and chuckling and hip-shoving Yasmine out of the way to reach the coffee machine.

‘Help yourself!’ Sven calls. ‘Did you want to make your own porridge?’

‘Ooh, can I?’ Kristi asks, heading over to the big vats of bubbling porridge. ‘Okay, what do I do?’

Sven was joking, but then she is Kristi Carter. He even passes his beloved ladle over and shows which vat to take the porridge from then shows her the big pot of jam.

‘Thank you!’ Kristi says with a bowl of porridge and beaker of coffee in her hands, giving Yasmine another mock scowl and setting her off again.

They eat at the counter with Erik the Rolls pausing to kiss Kristi’s cheek, remembering what she did during the riots, when he went down and she took a chair to beat the attacker away.

‘You want a fresh roll when they’re done, love?’ he asks.

‘I’d love one but I’m filming at the new store all morning.’

‘It’s alright. Yassy can run one over,’ Erik says, giving her a wink as he heads into the kitchen to grab an apron and start work.

* * *

An hour later Yasmine runs the freshly baked rolls over. One for Kristi and one for Rona.

‘I hate rolls,’ Rona says before walking off.

‘Fair enough,’ Yasmine says at the abrupt tone.

‘I don’t know what’s got into her,’ Kristi says as she sits down on a bench. ‘I told Kasim to send someone else over. How’s your morning? Busy?’

‘Same old,’ Yasmine says as they share the rolls and chat about the new store. The energy easy and natural. The words flowing without effort and a few minutes turns into half an hour. ‘Shit! Better get back.’

‘Okay. Say thanks to Erik! I’ll pop over at lunch.’

‘Make it just after lunch hour otherwise it’s rammed.’

* * *

Kristi calls in just after the busy lunch hour, Yasmine feeling a pleasant buzz inside at seeing her.

‘Ooh, thank you!’ Kristi says on seeing the bowl of noodles as they grab a table at the back. ‘Sam okay?’

‘Still working a lot. Zhang?’

‘Same. You busy later?’

‘Nope, but you can fuck off if you think I’m playing Wallball again,’ Yasmine says as Kristi laughs with a mouthful of noodles. ‘Seriously. My ass.’

‘Don’t. Mine’s killing me,’ Kristi says. ‘I can’t walk and talk on camera. I’ve been doing static reports all day.’

‘I saw that!’ Yasmine says with a laugh. ‘And I saw you wince when you had to step back from the lady coming out of the store.’

‘She was so rude! Did you see her? She just barged right into me. I was like, er, filming here!’

‘What do you wanna do then?’ Yasmine asks the chuckles ease off.

‘I’d say grab a massage, but you said you don’t like being touched.’

‘Yeah, that’s not my thing,’ Yasmine says.

‘Okay. Well how about the Zero-G place? That’s not a person doing it.’

The idea of some guy groping her fills Yasmine with dread. But getting a massage from a machine though? ‘I don’t have to be like, you know, naked or anything do I?’

‘No!’ Kristi says, seeing that raw vulnerability again. ‘Honestly, it’s really nice. Try it with me.’

* * *

They meet in the evening with Kristi calling for Yasmine this time. They head out back up to Level 20 with a sneaky trip in the elevator. ‘Seriously? How do you get to use this?’

‘Told you. I’m Speshal,’ Yasmine says, making them smile again as the doors open and they head to the FleetSpa. ‘Why does everything have the word fleet in it?’ Yasmine asks.

They go inside to a lush environment of bushy green plants and wood-effect walls with soft music and subtle scents hanging in the air. It’s warm too, comfortably so.

Yasmine follows Kristi past steam rooms and infrared saunas. People inside. Some only in underwear. Shorts and bra tops. Others in tight AI-controlled suits interlaced with fine mesh. They go past and into a private room. More soft music and scents in the air.

A bench to one side with two vacuum-packed bags on top. Kristi pops the seal on one and pulls a fine mesh interlaced bodysuit out. ‘See? Just put this on. Panel up!’

A panel springs up between them, giving privacy for them to undress and tug the super-tight outfits on.

‘Okay, so we stand here,’ Kristi says, motioning Yasmine over to stand next to her. ‘You’re used to zero-G, aren’t you?’

Yasmine nods and feels the gravity reducing until she’s lifting off the floor.

‘Ready?’ Kristi asks with a smile, and spins over so she’s floating face down. Yasmine does the same. ‘Start please!’ Kristi calls.

Two long mechanical arms extend from the wall. One from each side, and Yasmine turns to see two large gel pads protruding from stalks on the arm coming towards her, and a second or so later she feels the pads rolling gently over her back then down her entire length to her feet.

‘They’re scanning to start with,’ Kristi explains. ‘Working out body weight and density and whatever . . . Oh god that’s nice,’ she trails off with a groan as Yasmine feels the pads roll up over her own thighs and bum and onto her back. Then the pads change shape with small knobbly protrusions coming out that start kneading her shoulders. She even braces, figuring she’ll shoot off from the pressure of an external force while in zero-G. Except that doesn’t happen; she stays put and guesses the AI system must be countering the pressure with increases and decreases in gravity.

However it’s working, the effect is astonishing as her tight muscles are kneaded, sending endorphins radiating through her body.

Then the suit starts working, with tiny needles administering acupuncture while sending pulses of electricity coursing over points of her body. On her calves and thighs. Then her glutes and lower back and arms. The combined effect of which puts Yasmine into a state of near-pure bliss, beyond anything she has ever felt before.

Which is what Kristi planned for.

‘Do you like it?’ Kristi asks quietly.

Yasmine nods. Her eyes closed, her mind for once empty of worry and fear as Kristi steels herself before speaking out quietly.

‘I need to tell you something.’ Yasmine’s eyes flicker heavily as Kristi continues, ‘I interviewed Helga the other day. When I saw you on Level 1? She owed me an explanation. You know that night of the riots? When I helped you all? She promised me she’d tell me what was going on with you and the Fleet Finance offices.’

Yasmine’s eyes snap open and a pulse of fear courses through Kristi at the primeval look in her glare. Like a cornered wolf from an old-time holo movie. ‘And?’ Yasmine asks, her voice low and guarded.

‘She told me you’re an operative, like an agent. And that she sanctioned you to steal from the Finance offices to stress-test it. And that Dmitri went after you because of a relationship before.’

‘It wasn’t a fucking relationship,’ Yasmine snaps as Kristi swallows, figuring she’s about to get mulched or whatever it is Elforists do when they attack someone.

Except that doesn’t happen and Yasmine exhales noisily and closes her eyes to focus on the massage and not let Dmitri ruin something else in her life. ‘But yeah. He did,’ she adds.

Kristi hesitates, finding it impossible to read her. ‘And someone else said something.’

‘What? What did someone else say?’ Yasmine asks, her tone hardening. Her defences going up.

‘They said you killed Dmitri,’ Kristi says as Yasmine glares at her with an intensity Kristi has never felt before. ‘But they said he deserved it. They said the Elfors are better now because you and Abdul took his crew out on the Beijing.’

‘Fuck,’ Yasmine grunts, tensing up and ready to spin over and get out of here. ‘Are you trying to find something out? Is that what this is about?’

‘No! I promise,’ Kristi says. ‘I promise. I’m not. Helga told me and I swore I’d not repeat it and then we started hanging out and, you know, I just . . . I just wanted you to relax and not worry about slipping up or something . . .’ She trails off as Yasmine stays quiet. Impossible to read.

A silence descends. Hard and strained with Yasmine feeling the rage inside flaring up, her normal coping mechanism to lash out and run and never look back. But she doesn’t want to do that anymore, and it’s warm in here, and the music is nice, and even though it’s Kristi Carter asking it doesn’t feel like it’s that Kristi Carter. Not the reporter.

Even so. Sense says to leave and get out, but that’s all Yasmine has ever done, and suddenly she doesn’t want to. She wants to just chill out like everyone else and have something nice and normal and not fucked or toxic or bad or rotten or broken. And so she looks at Kristi as the machine works its way down her back, kneading the muscles and sending waves of pleasure out through her body, and in truth, she doesn’t know what to do.

‘I figured Helga would tell you I know,’ Kristi says. ‘And I won’t keep a secret from a friend. I won’t do that.’

Yasmine stares at her. ‘Are we friends then, Kristi?’

Kristi nods and reaches out to take Yasmine’s hand, figuring she’ll pull back or lash out, or that something bad will happen, but the strangest thing is that Yasmine doesn’t pull back or lash out, and for a second, she doesn’t do anything at all.

Then she splays her fingers and takes Kristi’s hand in hers in acceptance of the silent offer of friendship.

‘I’m not an operative or an agent,’ she says quietly, deciding that for once she will choose her own path in life. ‘I’m a thief . . .’

20

‘This is a bad idea.’

‘It’ll be fine. Yassy, come on! You promised!’

Yasmine sighs and shakes her head as a laugh escapes at the sight of Kristi Carter nodding eagerly.

‘Just for the experience. Pinky promise,’ Kristi adds while waggling her little finger, prompting Yasmine to loop her own pinky around Kristi’s while hardly believing she’s doing this.

‘Fine. But not looking like that.’

‘Eh? Why not?’ Kristi asks, looking down at her outfit. ‘You said dark clothes work best.’

‘Yeah. Not Gucci black trousers and a shiny black blouse . . . And that make-up is coming off, and the hair? That’s changing too.’

They set to work in Sam’s cabin, each having taken a day off: Yasmine asking Sven and Kristi telling Kasim. Who promptly threw a massive tantrum, which in turn made Kristi list how many days she’s worked in a row without a single break and broken God knows how many Fleet Union rules and okay, fine, but she’d have to speak to her agent and the union rep. At which point Kasim stopped having a tantrum and decided that Kristi should totally have a day off.

Which was also good because Yasmine and Kristi had stayed up very late again the previous night, because after the massage ended they found a snug booth in a plush bar on Level 20 where they proceeded to drink wine and eat snacks and talk for hours on end, and the risk Kristi took by telling Yassy what Helga had told her paid off tenfold with a sudden closeness that she really didn’t think was possible. But the strangest thing was that she kept forgetting about Helga and everything else going on. In fact, she hardly thought about it all and instead was simply finding herself drawn to Yasmine’s company. Enjoying the time they were sharing and the bond that was growing between them.

It was the same for Yasmine. She knew she should have bugged out the second Kristi said what Helga had told her, and she should never have started hanging out with her in the first place. But too many bad things had happened. Years of running and fighting and the threat of Dmitri hanging over her, then everything else. And she’d killed people, and then catching the criminals and the whole thing with Sam. And so this with Kristi, whatever this was, was needed and so she didn’t fight against it, but for once, she went with it and chose to open up a little.

‘So yeah. I was just a hustler. You know. Stealing and selling and whatever. But people would ask me to steal for them. Like things they needed so I kinda specialised and then I’d sell it back to them. But all that time I just partied and was stupid and immature, but this bad thing had happened and I guess maybe I was running from it. But I don’t want to talk about that. And then later, I was doing something and just kind of ended up falling into Helga and Abdul’s path and I think the skills I picked up were useful to them. I mean. They are useful, I guess. I can figure things out. And get into places and find things.’

Yasmine had chatted on, thinking about what she did on the Ark without going anywhere near mentioning the code because that big red line was clear in her head.

But it also felt good and the more they spoke, the more weight seemed to lift from Yasmine and that ball of tangled anxiety in her gut somehow lessened.

‘Listen,’ Yasmine said. ‘I’m a fuck-up with literally everything. Honestly. I am. But there’s some things I can do . . . and yeah, I’m good at them,’ she added, feeling a pleasant sensation at being able to say that.

Kristi spotted it too. The sudden glint in Yasmine’s eyes that prickled her interest and made her shift a bit closer.

‘So, you really caught them?’ Kristi asked. ‘The rapists and the gangs.’

‘Other people tracked where they were, but yeah, I went for them.’

‘Not the cops?’

‘Cops can’t do what I can.’

Kristi felt a shiver run down her spine when Yasmine said that. ‘That was the most badass thing I’ve ever heard.’

Yasmine smiled and even blushed a little.

‘What did it feel like? I mean the rapists had the girl in the cabin, didn’t they?’

Yasmine nods, remembering it.

‘And you went in first?’

‘Yeah. Just two of us. The other woman is kind of my apprentice.’

Kristi stared at her. Needing to know what happened. Needing it more than she’d ever needed anything in her life. ‘I really want to ask, but maybe I shouldn’t.’

‘Ask.’

‘Are you sure?’

Yasmine nodded. The closeness between them. The feeling there of being able to share in a safe space.

‘What happened?’ Kristi whispered, locked on Yasmine’s dark eyes and that dark energy pouring from her.

Yasmine looked her in the eye. ‘I beat the living shit out of them . . .’

Kristi groaned in pleasure at the thought of it. At the idea of it. At the image in her mind of being able to do that.

They talked about the arrests and the gangs and how Yasmine got in close while Kristi mentally compared it to what she already knew and determined that Yasmine was being honest, and the night grew late with neither wanting to go home or somehow break the bond that was so clearly growing.

‘And you’re working at the café why?’ Kristi asked later with a gentle smile and a puzzled frown.

‘I just want some quiet time . . . Like a routine.’

‘You said something yesterday. That you wanted to put down roots.’

‘Roots,’ Yasmine said with a nod. ‘Yeah. Maybe.’

‘You don’t want that now?’

‘I don’t know what I want.’

That resonated with Kristi. The way it was said and the meaning behind it. The feeling it invoked. That sense of being neither here nor there but in some kind of stasis. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing either,’ she admitted ruefully. Sagging down to rest an elbow on the table between them. ‘It’s not going well with Zhang.’

‘Why not?’ Yasmine asked before she could stop herself. ‘I mean, if that’s not too personal.’

‘No, silly,’ Kristi said, reaching over to touch Yasmine’s hand to show it was okay. ‘I don’t know,’ she said with a wretched look. ‘It’s the thing. You know. The thing.’

‘The addiction?’

Kristi nodded.

‘Is he fucking someone else?’

‘No! At least I don’t think he is. I think that’s actually the problem. It’s like . . . It’s like he’s using me as a coping mechanism to control it. You know? Like, he’s working ridiculous hours, which I get cos there was so much happening, but he’s not the only cop. You know? Colin’s there and Jorgey and whatever. But then he comes home and . . .’ She paused to wince as Yasmine felt herself cringing. ‘You know. We just fuck,’ Kristi whispered. ‘That’s it. We just fuck.’

Yasmine listened intently. Mesmerised at the intimacy being shared and the raw emotion in Kristi and it was hurting her too. Yasmine could see that.

‘We don’t talk or . . . or go out.’ Kristi shrugged. Blowing air and snorting a bitter laugh. ‘I mean, the sex was amazing to start with. But . . . I don’t think it’s me he’s having sex with . . .’

‘Eh?’

‘It’s just my body. It’s not me as a person. Not my intellect or emotions or my soul. Fuck! That sounds so . . . So new age or something, but I’m just detached and not there and he’s fucking me and I . . . I don’t know.’

She fell silent as Yasmine frowned, wishing she had at least a tiny part of Zhang’s problem, because it would make Sam a lot happier. ‘What are you going to do?’ Yasmine asked, which seemed the most natural question at that point.

Kristi shrugged again before sipping wine. ‘Hang out with you and get drunk so I don’t have to think about it.’

‘You know what,’ Yasmine said with her wine glass raised. ‘That’s the best plan ever.’

* * *

They didn’t get drunk. Not drunk like the night before anyway. But that’s because they drank slowly over hours of chat while munching snacks until Kristi asked about Yasmine’s former career.

‘It wasn’t a career. I was a thief.’

‘Whatever. Tell me though. What was it like?’

And so Yasmine told her how and what she did, and when, and what she stole and how that was done and around it went as the wine went down and an idea was formed, which seemed perfectly reasonable at 4 a.m. in a snug booth in a plush bar on Level 20 – but one which didn’t seem so reasonable when Kristi presented herself at Yasmine’s cabin after they both wangled a day off.

And of course, Yasmine tried to say it was a bad idea, but Kristi see, she had that energy about her, and it had shifted in her mind from finding out about whatever was going on with Helga, to seriously loving hanging out with Yasmine.

‘Are you absolutely sure?’ Yasmine asked again.

‘I’m super-serious!’ Kristi said with a gleam in her eye as Yasmine shrugged and got to work, and an hour or so later, they slip out of Cabin 58, Row G, Level 35 and head for the stairwell and up and out into the packed lanes of the retail zone.

* * *

Tourists everywhere from the now ceaseless onslaught of Elfor shuttle pilots all over the fleet offering discounts for trips to the Humility, with a few creds being slipped quietly into accounts in return, but then all credits are good credits, no questions asked.

But all of that becomes background noise as Kristi approaches the first lane and almost thinks to call it off, but the thrill is too good and so she summons courage and walks into the main walkway packed with people, all of whom would normally be turning to gawp at the fleet’s most famous reporter walking by.

Except that doesn’t happen. Nobody pays the slightest bit of attention.

‘I’m invisible,’ Kristi says as someone brushes past her shoulder. ‘Did you see that? He looked right at me!’

Yasmine smiles and walks on with Kristi Carter dressed in dull, unmarked clothes. Nothing shiny. Nothing new. Nothing that draws the eye.

‘And it needs to be a bit baggy,’ Yasmine said as they got ready in her cabin. ‘Men instinctively look at women’s boobs and bums and a baggier top deflects that attention. It hides the shape, and these trousers don’t cling to your ass either. See?’

Kristi was astonished at the level of planning and attention to detail that Yasmine went into. And it didn’t stop at clothes.

‘Okay, take your make-up off,’ Yasmine said as Kristi took her digi-pen out and started removing her eye-liner. ‘No. All of it.’

‘I’ve got really big pores,’ Kristi said, earning a look before doing as told and removing all of her make-up, which left her feeling strangely exposed and vulnerable.

‘Yeah, that’s good,’ Yasmine said as she scrutinised Kristi’s features. ‘But the hair needs to change.’

And change it did. From styled bright blonde to flat, lifeless mousy brown.

‘And then put this on,’ Yasmine said, offering a shapeless old cloth cap. ‘Yeah. Perfect.’

They reach the plaza and the queue outside the Elfor Store and the other reporters moving along the line and through the crowd, conducting interviews and doing pieces to camera.

A rush of panic hits Kristi that she’ll be recognised, but Yasmine told her that the biggest secret is to be completely passive. Look bored, she said. Look fed up and broke and like life has no interest.

She does it now and she walks past reporters she known for years. Hell. She’s even slept with one or two of them, but they look straight through her and Yasmine as they search for people to interview.

Then Kristi feels Yasmine’s hand slipping into hers to guide her over to a cluster of people, including Rona, standing three feet away holding a beaker of juice.

‘Seriously. I’ve had enough,’ Rona says to the group of assistants for the other news agencies. ‘She’s such a cunt to work for. I hate her.’

‘No! Kristi’s lovely,’ one of the other assistants says. ‘I used to work with her.’

‘She’s a stuck-up greedy bitch,’ Rona says. ‘Moaning about her small hotel cabin and she doesn’t earn enough, and Teddy is taking all the limelight.’

Kristi thinks to say something, but Yasmine trips into the back of Rona as she sips from the beaker, drenching her in the contents.

‘What the fuck!’ Rona shouts, twisting to see who did it as Yasmine melts into the crowd.

Kristi slips away, laughing with delight and seeing Yasmine ahead giggling and smiling and the day rolls on with them simply walking around. Staring at this and that. Eating rolls and drinking juice and watching Teddy Fox on FleetsNewsCast.

‘. . . and as we reported this morning, Captain Sveinsson and Vice-Captain Shariff of the Humility have pledged to undertake a full tour of every ship in the fleet to drum up support for sanctioning the release of the Elfors. Sounds like desperation to me, but without fleet support, those tens of thousands of people freed from the Elfors won’t ever gain registration and won’t ever be able to leave the Humility. Maybe they should have thought of that first . . .’

They drift along the main walkway and into a large fashion chain store.

The feeling it invokes is powerful and intoxicating, making Kristi giddy with the thrill of it as she moves in close to Yasmine’s side. ‘Show me how you do it,’ she says, as Yasmine looks around then nods.

‘Okay. So . . . the way I did it was by making myself think about a life I never had, like inventing a reason why I was shopping. It’s my mother’s birthday party coming up and I need a new top. Or my husband is taking me out to dinner, so I need new underwear.’

‘Okay, okay. I get it. Like method acting,’ Kristi says. ‘Right. Er . . . Okay, we’re best friends and we’re taking a trip to the Ab-Spa and we need new clothes. Like holiday clothes. Right. Vacation. Ab-Spa. Yep. Uh-huh. My name is Sarah and I’m thirty and I work in IT . . .’

‘What are you doing?’ Yasmine asks, watching Kristi close her eyes and nod to herself.

‘Getting into character! I’m Sarah and you’re Jane and . . .’

‘I’m not Jane.’

‘Fine. Jilly then.’

‘Oh god, no. I know a Jilly. She’s a complete bitch,’ Yasmine says as she heads over to a display of fashion tops.

‘Oh yeah. Yeah. Roger will love you in that,’ Kristi says loudly as a woman passes. ‘We’re going on vacation to the Ab,’ Kristi tells her.

‘Jesus,’ Yasmine says, taking her hand to lead her out.

‘What?’ Kristi asks.

‘Don’t talk to people!’ Yasmine says, still laughing. ‘We’re invisible. It’s in the body language. Life isn’t great for us. We’re bored and fed up remember.’

‘Oh I see! Right. Sad then. Not happy. Got it,’ Kristi says as Yasmine leads them into another store where Kristi adopts the role of a downtrodden housewife who can’t afford nice things. Oh! But she really likes this top. Oh! But the cost of it. Oh! But maybe she should try it on.

Yasmine rolls her eyes at the awful acting and swipes a few tops from hangers, draping them over her arm as she nudges Kristi towards the changing rooms. ‘Come on Linda Lick-Up.’

‘She’s actually a really good businesswoman,’ Kristi tells her. ‘Did you know she owns the channel and the distribution network?’

‘I did not know that,’ Yasmine says, smiling at the assistant as they enter the changing rooms.

‘If Linda had gone into politics, she’d be a captain,’ Kristi adds as Yasmine says that’s very interesting and orders the panels up in the corner to give them privacy.

Then she drops to a knee and swipes her system with a smile at seeing her old shoplifting software.

‘Okay listen,’ she whispers as Kristi kneels close to her. ‘The clothing tag contains a code that sets the alarm off if it goes outside, unless it’s been deactivated, which happens when the item is purchased. All I do is scan the tag and the software deactivates it.’

‘What. That’s it?’ Kristi asks.

‘Yeah. Why? What did you think we did?’

‘I don’t know. So what now? We just walk out with them?’

‘No! We put them on and walk out with them under our clothes. That’s also why we wear baggy clothes, and why we bring lots of items in.’

‘Oh wow. That’s so cool,’ Kristi says, standing up to pull her T-shirt off.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Putting them on,’ Kristi says, tugging another T-shirt on.

‘We’re not wearing them. No, you’re doing it wrong. Just . . . okay, wait,’ Yasmine says, tutting and laughing as she stands up and starts stripping off to teach Kristi how to wear layers on layers.

‘I feel huge,’ Kristi says.

‘You can’t even see it,’ Yasmine says as Kristi pulls up a 3-D reflection and notices how normal she looks.

‘This is nuts,’ Kristi says. ‘And then what?’

‘Then we walk out.’

Kristi smiles as she waves the panels away with her eyes locking on Yasmine’s. Playful. Challenging. Daring.

‘Whoa. What the fuck are you doing? We’re not actually stealing them!’

But Kristi pokes her tongue out and starts walking off. ‘Fuck it!’ Yasmine says, rushing after Kristi sauntering past the staff on duty by the changing room doors. ‘Hi, sorry, these didn’t fit,’ Yasmine says, distracting the girl by thrusting the items at her and dropping one, then another and trying to help pick them up and apologising.

‘Sorry! Thank you!’ Yasmine says, heading off to slip into the store with Kristi’s belly doing wonderful somersaults as they aim for the door. ‘You’re a maniac, Carter,’ Yasmine whispers as they cross the threshold with alarms screaming to life, blue and red flashing lights and giant 3-D arrows form in the air pointing down at Kristi.

‘Oh fuck,’ she says, looking at Yasmine.

‘Shit . . . Run!’ Yasmine says, her instincts still strong as she grabs Kristi’s hand and sets off at a blistering pace leaving a trail of screaming staff in their wake.

Kristi considers going back and apologising, maybe explaining that she was just doing some research for a report, but Yasmine looks back over her shoulder with a fire in her eyes, clearly enjoying the game, and Kristi can’t help but burst out laughing and run even faster.

The two of them take a hard left into another store and through the aisles with staff and security still yelling behind them. Out the back doors. Dodging tourists. Weaving around benches and through digital posters. Running hard to get away, drawing attention from all as they stream past, but the women love it, grins on faces and hearts racing.

Yasmine hits the stairs and they drop down to Level 37 and through the empty guard station and into Neon City. The main strip already busy with early evening punters strolling through, being offered services by the working men and women. The younger ones that were trafficked into the sex trade now gone because the new normal is here and control is being exerted, and with it the line of morality is becoming clear.

‘Children will not be forced to work in Neon ever again,’ Abdul said, and his word spread because people knew it was him and Yassy that put Dmitri and his crew down on the Beijing.

And now Yasmine bundles onto the main strip, breathing hard. Her dark eyes glint with fun and mischief as she stops and giggles at blocking Kristi and getting bumped from behind. The two of them lurching and laughing and joshing about.

‘Where you going?’ Kristi asks as Yasmine veers into the lane leading to the Bowbells. ‘I want a drink first!’ Kristi says, setting off for the clubs as the lights flash and strobe.

They head in through the door of the Hocus Pocus. The music thumping. Dancers dancing. Servers serving and Honey the Money, Carla Big Lips and Lick Lick Suck working the bar.

‘Yassy!’ Honey says. ‘New friend?’ she asks with a nod at the strange face that looks a bit familiar.

‘Sarah,’ Yasmine says with a laugh as Honey detects a joke hanging in the air but shrugs it off and serves the drinks. ‘Behind the bar?’ Yasmine asks.

‘You not heard?’ Honey replies. ‘Ferdy made us managers so he can be a councillor and help Abdul.’

‘It’s the new normal, Yassy,’ Lick calls over with a laugh.

‘On the house,’ Honey says, giving her the bottle as Yasmine goes to pay. ‘For putting Dmitri down,’ she adds with a wink.

Kristi keeps her mouth shut and her head down but feels the energy in Yasmine change at mention of Dmitri’s name.

‘Any rooms free?’ Yasmine asks.

‘Sure. Room 1.’ Honey nods to a door leading to the privacy rooms as Yasmine guides Kristi through and down to room 1 while carrying a bottle of synth vodka.

A couch inside. Music playing. The lights low and funky. They step inside. Swigging drinks and still buoyed up. A sense of freedom within them. A lessening of the constraints of their lives. A chance to decompress.

‘That was nuts,’ Kristi gasps, shaking her head with a disbelieving smile. ‘When that alarm went off! Oh my god.’

Yasmine laughs too, feeling the thrill of it, especially now the stakes are higher than they ever used to be. She has a job. She’s connected to Helga and Abdul and she’s with Sam, and she was with Kristi Carter.

‘Fuck,’ she says slowly, bursting out laughing again at the temerity of it. ‘I said don’t do it though! I didn’t deactivate the tags.’

Kristi shrugs and dances a swaying jig to the music. ‘I feel most terribly trussed up I do,’ she says in a mock posh voice.

‘Dick,’ Yasmine says, draining her glass and pouring another as Kristi holds hers out for a top-up.

‘I want Elfor Juice.’

‘Are you on a mission or something?’

‘I don’t know!’ Kristi says with another laugh. ‘I haven’t had this much fun in years. Have you got any?’

‘No!’ Yasmine says, seeing the glint in Kristi’s eyes again. ‘Seriously? You really want some?’

Kristi nods. Her eyes locked on Yasmine’s while biting her bottom lip. Playful. Flirty. Silly. Stupid. Making eyes. Pulling faces. It sets Yasmine off as she heads out and comes back a few minutes later with two tumblers, each filled with a finger’s width of glowing yellow liquid.

‘This is illegal you know,’ Kristi says in a mock stern tone as Yasmine downs her shot with hardly a reaction. Kristi tries to do the same but gasps at the fiery burn with tears in her eyes. Clinging onto Yasmine while laughing and coughing.

‘I need to get out of this stuff,’ Yasmine says, stepping away to tug her T-shirt up as Kristi feels the glorious sensation of Elfor Juice radiating from her core. The tingling warmth that seems to make everything okay. She grabs the hem of her own baggy T-shirt and pulls it over head then kicks her shoes off and starts tugging the baggy trousers down and getting the idea mid-undress to act sexy and alluring.

Yasmine glances over with a snort of laughter at Kristi, failing dismally to look sexy as she stumbles and trips out of the trousers, and her many layers of vests and leggings and knickers.

But Kristi doesn’t care so she keeps going and calls out for the music to be turned up and carries on her act, pulling the clothes off one by one. ‘You’re all trussed up me love!’ Kristi says, trying to mimic one of the Stitcher Sisters as she keeps going and Yasmine even joins in with the silly dancing. Undressing and drinking vodka while high on Elfor Juice. Tears streaming down their cheeks. Their bellies aching from laughing. Twirling vests overhead. Throwing leggings at each other and laughing until it hurts at how many pairs of knickers they’ve got on.

But eventually the clothing gets piled up with the two of them stripped down to underwear, looking at their booty of stolen clothing.

‘For the cause!’ Kristi announces, pouring them another shot.

‘For the cause,’ Yasmine says, clinking her tumbler before downing the shot.

‘Did we do well?’ Kristi asks. ‘I mean, is that a good haul of loot?’

‘No. And what the hell is a haul of loot?’

Off they go again with gentle snorts that turn into full-on belly laughs until Chi-Chi’s Whacka Whacka Dum Dum starts playing and the UV light shines down, bringing to life the tattoos on Yasmine’s arms.

Kristi reaches out to touch one on her upper arm. Tracing them up to Yasmine’s neck as Yasmine shifts for Kristi to move her hair.

‘Have you got them everywhere?’ Kristi asks.

‘No. Just those,’ Yasmine says, feeling scrutinised in a way she normally hates, but it’s okay now and actually feels nice.

‘How do you choose them? And how do you decide where to put them?’

Yasmine shrugs and smiles at Kristi’s frown. ‘It’s an Elfor thing. I’ll show you one day.’

‘Now?’

‘No. Later or tomorrow. You can’t go like that cos people will think you’re trying to be sneaky in a disguise, and it’ll go off. You’ll need to be you.’

‘Sounds mysterious.’

‘It’s weird as fuck,’ Yasmine says with a laugh as Kristi grabs her hand and drops onto the sofa, yanking Yasmine down next to her. The pair of them crashing onto the soft material with more giggles.

‘So. Can I ask you a question?’ Kristi asks, smiling at Yasmine. ‘Does it ever turn you on?’

‘What?’ Yasmine asks with a burst of laughter. ‘Does what turn me on?’

‘Stealing,’ Kristi says.

‘No!’ Yasmine says, still laughing at the question. ‘Why? Did it turn you on?’

Kristi shrugs. A bit shy. A bit bashful, but she smiles then laughs. ‘It was the danger! Don’t laugh at me!’

Yasmine laughs again, triggered by Kristi trying to be serious.

‘Come on. What never?’ Kristi asks, shuffling closer.

‘No. Not like . . .’

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Tell me,’ Kristi says, shifting position to face Yasmine then reaching a hand out to touch Yasmine’s chin to gently turn her head.

‘Like, yeah I get a thrill,’ Yasmine says, her voice low. ‘But not, you know.’

‘What?’ Kristi whispers.

‘Not sexually.’

Kristi pauses at how Yasmine says that word. As though it’s a bad word, or a word she uses very rarely. ‘I don’t believe you,’ Kristi says with a smile as Yasmine shrugs. Shy. Nervous. And there it is again. That vulnerability, but it’s sweet and cute, and very alluring.

‘How would you know?’ Yasmine asks, her lips flickering into a smile. Her eyes constantly finding Kristi’s. ‘I mean. If it turns you on. How can you tell?’

Kristi shuffles closer still while reaching out to lay a hand on Yasmine’s naked stomach. ‘You feel it in here,’ she says, feeling Yasmine tense at the touch. ‘Feels weird. Like tingly and nice,’ Kristi whispers, stroking her thumb over Yasmine’s stomach. ‘Like heat.’

Yasmine exhales. Her eyes locked on Kristi’s. Elfor juice and vodka inside of her. The music playing. The lights low. Kristi’s hand on her stomach.

‘And you get other sensations too,’ Kristi says softly, smiling and looking constantly at Yasmine’s lips while licking her own. Her heart thumping so hard that Yasmine must be able to feel it through the couch. But Yasmine can’t because her own is beating like a drum with blood pounding in her ears and anyway, that thing that Kristi says happens when you get turned on is happening right now. That tingling in her belly. That heat.

‘It makes your heart beat faster,’ Kristi says, moving an inch closer. ‘And you breathe faster,’ she adds as Yasmine’s lips part to gasp at Kristi’s closeness and the feel of her body pressing into hers and the hand on her belly moving in wider circles. She blinks heavily as a crimson blush spreads over the base of Kristi’s neck and she watches how Kristi licks her lips and does the same and swallows and feels that wonderful feeling increase a hundred times with every inch that Kristi moves closer. Closer and closer as an image of Sam flits through Yasmine’s mind, and Kristi feels the exact second when the energy withdraws, and Yasmine pulls back to look at her. Blinking slowly and heavily. Neither speaking. Neither having the words to give as that moment hangs in the air. Electric and pulsing with power and meaning.

Then Yasmine moves back to stand and turn away. Dressing while Kristi stays on the sofa. Breathing hard and watching her. But strangely, the magic isn’t broken. It’s still there. Still hanging in the air.

Yasmine turns to look down. Her dark eyes locked on Kristi’s as she bends to press forehead to forehead, with Kristi angling up to kiss her lips. Fleeting. Gentle. Soft.

‘Thank you,’ Yasmine whispers. Meaning it with every ounce of her being as Kristi frowns, not understanding what she’s thankful for. Not getting it, but she doesn’t ask because she knows the answer won’t come and instead, she reaches out to entwine her fingers in Yasmine’s. Just for a moment.

Just for them in that moment.

Then Yasmine pulls back and walks off, knowing what she must do. Seeing it all so clearly in her mind now, and behind her, Kristi’s hand falls to her side because never for one second did she think seducing Yasmine would make her feel the way she does now.

21

Yasmine heads out of the Hocus Pocus with a strange and wonderful feeling inside. A touch of guilt too. Guilt for nearly kissing someone else while she’s with Sam, but the other feelings push that down and away because the pay-off is overwhelming. The feeling of being so turned on it actually aches.

What a thing. What an incredible feeling, and this time she’s not trying to convince herself either. It’s actually happening. She’s turned on.

She quickens her pace, striding and half jogging through Neon City to the stairwell and then up, as Kristi dresses in the private room and slips out to follow behind.

Her head down. Lost in her own thoughts and confused as hell as to what just happened. Something that she didn’t mean to happen, but it was just there in the moment. That feeling. She doesn’t know what it was. Only that she could see the incredible raw vulnerability in Yasmine and the fact it was coming from someone so tough was just so alluring and fucking sexy.

She didn’t mean to seduce her, but she also kind of knew she was doing it, and that it was wrong.

Did she just make that happen with Yasmine?

And what the fuck did just happen with Yasmine?

Kristi’s kissed women before. She’s even slept with a few. The fleet doesn’t judge such things. Sexual preference is fluid and organic and nobody gives a shit, and Kristi tried it and enjoyed it but found she preferred men and that was that.

But oh my. This was something else.

What a day. What a week. She needs a shower and damn good think because honestly? Right now, she doesn’t know her ass from her elbow.

Which is not the feeling Yasmine has for the first time in her life, because if asked, Yasmine would most definitely be able to point out both her elbow and her ass, such is the profound sense of whatever-it-is currently bouncing around in her head, giving her energy to bound up the stairs and out onto Level 35.

She thinks to message Sam and tell him to come home. But then she figures she’ll go home first and shower and then just go up and see him, and either drag him home or fuck him right there on the bridge.

Oh wow. What a thought. On the bridge. Damn that’s horny, but an image of Kristi flits into place during her mental conjuring of copulating with Sam. She shakes it away, figuring it’s natural cos of the kiss they nearly had and whatever Kristi did to awaken whatever’s been woken inside of Yasmine. And boy. Is it awake now.

She reaches the cabin and knows Sam is home before walking in, because of the steam in the air. She bustles inside to see him in the shower. ‘Hey, you’re home!’

‘Eh? Er yeah. I needed a quick shower and some clothes.’

‘I went to a gym and had a massage and . . . I haven’t seen you for ages,’ she says, the words spilling out. ‘I mean. Not today. But I was with Kristi, and we did this thing and had some drinks and . . .’

Sam frowns and smiles, realising she’s drunk. ‘Sounds like fun.’

‘It was!’ Yasmine says, nodding earnestly while feeling suddenly nervous and shy. ‘I think I needed it.’

‘Cool,’ Sam says.

‘But I really need a shower,’ she says, the tingling feeling coming back as she starts tugging her clothes off.

‘I’ll get out.’

‘No stay there!’

‘Honestly. I’ll get out,’ Sam says as Yasmine strips off. ‘Yassy, I’ll get out.’

‘No no no,’ she says and rushes under the water with a yelp. ‘Oh wow. You look good with that stubble. All hot and manly and rarrrr.’

Sam holds still. Not getting the strange energy coming from Yasmine, seeing she’s drunk and obviously nervous, but she pushes into him. Needing to do it now. Needing to have sex with the man she loves. That feeling inside. The tingling. The heat. She pulls him in for a kiss, instantly feeling the difference between him and Kristi. Masculine versus feminine. Hairs on his chin, strong jawline. His lips thinner. His shoulders wider. His arms thicker. His chest bigger. She reaches for his belly, remembering Kristi’s stomach, and starts rubbing as Kristi reaches Zhang’s cabin and goes inside to see Zhang on the sofa.

‘You’re home,’ she says in surprise.

‘I kinda live here,’ he replies with a smile.

‘No. Course. I mean. Whatever,’ she says as she holds still for a second. ‘I need to shower.’

Zhang motions her over. She hesitates then moves to the sofa and reaches down to kiss him, feeling his stubble and tasting the coffee on his breath. ‘Honestly. I really need to shower. Won’t be long.’

She goes to move away. Wanting to wash and think, but he reaches up to pull her down onto his lap. She chuckles at the play of it and settles still for a second while looking down at him. ‘How’s work?’

He shrugs and moves in to push his hands up inside the baggy T-shirt and starts kissing her neck.

‘Great chat,’ she says.

‘Chat after.’

‘I really need to shower.’

‘Shower after,’ he says, all deep and gruff with his mouth on her neck as she thinks about the Hocus Pocus and room 1 and Yasmine Dufont.

While in Sam’s cabin, Yasmine feels the arousal flaring inside and a need to do this. She’s drunk. Her inhibitions are lowered. Now’s the time. But Sam’s not so sure. They’ve done this before. Lots of times.

‘Yassy,’ he says as Yasmine kisses his cheeks and neck. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want it to go bad again, and it always goes bad.

‘It’s fine,’ she says, feeling him stiffen in her hand and making noises of pleasure as he thinks maybe this time will be okay and so he allows himself to relax and get aroused as the water pummels down and clouds of steam roll around them.

* * *

‘Do you like me?’ Kristi asks Zhang as he eases off her trousers. She frowns. Feeling dirty and weird because she was nearly making out with Yasmine not half an hour ago.

‘I’ve got to shower,’ she says firmly as Zhang carries on. ‘Zhang?’

‘I’m crazy about you.’

‘Zhang!’

‘I’m mad about you.’

‘But you’re not though are you? You just want to fuck.’

‘What?’ he asks, finally catching her tone as he looks down at her. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘What’s wrong? What did I do today? What did I do yesterday?’

He shrugs. ‘You worked. I saw you on the news.’

‘You saw me on the news?’

He flashes the charming smile. ‘I always watch you. I’m mad about you.’

‘I wasn’t on the news today you shit!’ she says, swiping his shoulder. ‘Get off!’

‘What? Hey, come on.’

‘I had a day off, not that you fucking noticed.’

‘I was going to ask after!’

‘Were you really?’ she snaps.

‘Sure. But I was horny as hell for you.’

‘Urgh don’t! That’s disgusting.’

‘What did I do? Okay. I’m sorry. I’ve been working and there’s this thing going on that I can’t talk about, and I wanted that release with you so we could talk after.’

‘You are so full of shit. Fine. You want to fuck then talk after? Okay. We can fuck. That’s what I’m here for, clearly.’

Zhang pauses. Not quite reading the signals while the words hit his ears and filter into his brain. ‘Soooo, can we fuck then?’ he asks hopefully.

‘No! You fucking shit!’

* * *

‘Is that good?’ Yasmine asks, working Sam with her hand. He nods and swallows and kisses her neck while her hand moves up and down and everything is okay. ‘I really want you,’ she murmurs. He murmurs something back with his hands moving over her body. Touching her. Feeling her. Running over her skin. Flares of emotions inside. But it’s okay. This is okay. She can do it. His breath panting in her ear. His hands touching her breasts. His mouth on her neck, and everything is okay. Everything is fine. She’s had wine. She’s had fun. It’s good. This is safe.

Except it’s not and Dmitri’s face swims through her mind. Dmitri’s face when he pinned her down. Snarling at her. Grabbing at her. Hurting her.

She whimpers softly, refusing to let it happen again as Sam gets closer to finishing and kisses her harder. But Dmitri did that too and the images come faster. The panic flaring. Rising. Growing more than she can handle as Sam tells her he’s coming, and she pulls away, crying out and freezing as Sam grunts and curses and slaps the wall in frustration. Almost ejaculating. Almost there but it happened again, and Yasmine stands frozen to the spot. Her arms covering her breasts. Her eyes wide. Her mind blank and terrified and unable to form words or say or do anything at all, and all she can do is watch as Sam gains control of himself and steps out to dry himself off before dressing.

He doesn’t look at her and she wills herself to speak and say she knows she has a problem but she’s trying. She is really trying. Except she’s not really trying at all and suddenly once again she couldn’t point out her elbow from her ass as the world grows muddy and difficult again.

‘I need to work,’ Sam says and a second later he’s gone. Leaving her broken and wretched and alone once more. Climbing into the sleeping tube to stare at nothing while willing herself to cry and hating herself for being unable to.

Kristi can cry. And she does it now. On her back in the sleeping tube after a shower while Zhang lies on the sofa, still not quite sure what he did wrong.

Minutes pass. Maybe an hour. Yasmine’s mind replays the shower and tries to find the point it went wrong, but she can’t find it.

Then she thinks about Kristi and the kiss they nearly had, and she doesn’t feel anything while feeling a million things at once and it all builds up until it’s too much to handle, and she swipes her band to send a message. Needing to not be here.

Do you want to see where we get the tattoos from?

She hits send and Kristi feels her band vibrating and glances at the message. Expecting it to be from Kasim or work but seeing it’s from Yasmine. She reads it fast, blinking at the short sentence, and types a reply.

Yes

Yasmine reads it and feels relief flooding through her and a need to be moving and not be still and she sends another message.

Main stairwell in 5

Kristi reads it and springs from the sleeping tube to grab her clothes.

‘You going out?’ Zhang asks.

‘Yep,’ she says, dressing with urgency and a need to not be here dealing with this.

‘Did I do something wrong?’ Zhang asks as she looks at him and selects a setting on her digi-pen then touches it to her hair, the AI system changing the molecular structure of her cells within the strands, making her hair turn from brown to bright blonde as Zhang winces, realising what he missed. ‘Hey. You changed your hair!’ he says with a wan smile.

‘Great skills, Detective,’ she says, striding out and heading for the stairwell to see Yasmine waiting for her with a strange look on her face. ‘You okay?’ Kristi asks, seeing she isn’t okay at all.

Yasmine doesn’t reply but nods for her to follow and heads down the stairs with Kristi following, expecting them to step off at Level 37 and go out into Neon City.

But they don’t. Instead they keep going down with the grime and filth getting worse on every platform until they reach the bottom and step out into Level 40.

The lowest level.

The worst level.

Kristi blinks at Yasmine tugging a set of Elfor resin knuckles onto her right hand. ‘If anything happens just stay behind me,’ Yasmine says, heading off as Kristi swallows and hesitates, because this is Level 40 and said to be the most dangerous place in the fleet, and even now the police don’t patrol down here. Even now the signs remain telling people to go back up.

But she rushes after Yasmine and looks out at the shanty town stretching off into the distance. Cabins higgledy-piggledy all over the place, built from anything the people could find. Lights strung up, all different colours and sizes. Holo images flashing above bars and eateries, but they’re not like the bars and eateries Kristi has seen before.

Within a minute she loses her bearings in the maze of alleys and walkways as Yasmine reaches back with her left hand to take Kristi’s. Showing anyone watching that Kristi is with her and not to be touched.

People emerge from the shadows, faces glimpsed in the darkness. Drawn and emaciated. Hard eyes. Hard people. They see Yasmine and falter and either hold still or draw back. Yasmine killed Dmitri and Abdul killed Mad Eyes.

Not only that, but Yasmine took Skinny Donna and Krakin out, and for the most part, that marks Yasmine as not to be touched.

But only for the most part, and they drift deeper into Level 40. Deeper into the alleys and twisting walkways with people calling Yasmine’s name in greeting. Passing bars filled with weathered men and women in clothing the fashion stores would pay a fortune for.

‘What she doing here?’ A voice ahead. Deep and male. A man blocking their path, glaring at Kristi Carter.

‘She’s with me,’ Yasmine says. The guy looks at her and finally steps to the side, but he glares at Kristi as she goes by.

Kristi wants to ask Yasmine how much further, but stays silent, too amazed at the sights around her. The gritty realism of it. The stench too, and it’s not long before Yasmine steps over to the side to pull Kristi under the lip of a cabin and a second later the rain hits. Making Kristi gasp at the noise it makes striking hundreds of different surfaces.

She even reaches a hand out to feel it, but Yasmine pulls her arm back. ‘You’ll get sick. It’s not clean.’

Kristi frowns at her then nods over to a kid splashing in puddles and laughing.

‘He’s used to it,’ Yasmine says. ‘But you’re not. Trust me.’

It soon passes and they carry on with Yasmine’s senses ramped. Kristi’s hand in hers as they delve ever deeper into Level 40. Far away from the stairwells. Far away from civilisation, and far away from any help.

Then it happens. Yasmine tuts darkly and Kristi feels her hand squeezing tightly and pulling her in. ‘Stay close,’ Yasmine whispers. Staring ahead along the walkway, but there’s nobody in sight. Nobody at all and Kristi frowns and looks around then glances up to see a woman quickly drawing ragged old curtains and backing away from a window in a way that makes Kristi’s spine tingle.

‘It’s Yassy. Don’t fucking do it,’ Yasmine says. Her voice hard and flat and very threatening. ‘I mean it. Fuck off!’ she snaps, clenching her fist as Kristi spots someone emerging from the shadows on the right ahead of them. Then another form on the left. Two figures. Both holding wicked-looking blades in their hands, but with ragged hoods up so she can’t see if they’re male or female or old or young. ‘I swear to god I will fucking mulch you,’ Yasmine says.

But the figures don’t speak, and they don’t seem to care that’s it’s Yasmine either as they space out from one another, Yasmine grunting in frustration at their tactical placing. Meaning she can’t attack them both at the same time. ‘If I go down then run and shout for Colly. Someone will get you to her.’

‘We should both run,’ Kristi urges.

‘I ain’t fucking running,’ Yasmine snaps, pulling her hand free as she steps out to block them off. Feinting right then darting left to slam the Elfor Knuckles into a skull with a sickening thud as someone very large wraps an arm around Kristi’s waist and lifts her off her feet. Kristi screams as the giant spins back to lash out with a big arm into the other attacker coming in. Sending him slamming into the wall and following up with fast blows until the figure begs him to stop and drops to the ground.

Kristi spots Yasmine behind the big guy, slamming her fist into the other one until he drops, but she goes with him. Punching him hard with blood spattering up.

‘This shit has to fucking stop!’ Yasmine says, leaning in close to the robber. ‘Puta!’ she hisses, pushing him down hard as she rises with a nod to the big guy. ‘Cheers, Chimpy.’

‘Anytime, Yassy,’ the big man says mildly, turning to walk off with a polite smile and dip of his head at Kristi.

‘Ready?’ Yasmine says, holding her hand out for Kristi as she looks down at the blood spatters. ‘Ah, sorry,’ Yasmine says, wiping her hand on the back of her trousers as Kristi releases her breath, takes Yasmine’s hand and they carry on past the groaning figures.

A few more twists. A few more turns.

Then they arrive.

A big metal door ahead of them. Yasmine slams her hand on it several times.

It swings open, revealing a muscled woman holding a voltage stick and glaring at Kristi Carter.

‘She’s with me,’ Yasmine says.

‘You vouchin’, Yassy?’

‘I’m vouching.’

‘Then we’re all good,’ the woman says before smiling at Kristi. ‘Welcome to the Shades, Kristi Carter.’

22

A place within a place, is the first thing that comes to Kristi’s mind when they pass through the door.

Bright lights and people milling around a wide open area set with tables and chairs made from different materials. Pictures on the walls. Old posters and paintings from Earth, and her mouth almost drops open at seeing a Rembrandt within an ancient-looking gilded frame.

‘This is like our Neon City,’ Yasmine yells her, drawing Kristi’s gaze back. Now under brighter lights she can see the flecks of blood on Yasmine’s cheeks, and she feels appalled at the horrible violence she just saw, while also figuring that’s what life is down here.

She also knew Yasmine was capable. But seeing a thing and knowing a thing are very different.

‘You okay?’ Yasmine asks, seeing the fear and uncertainty. Kristi nods and offers a smile, and they keep going through another doorway to a long narrow corridor, brushing past people coming the other way.

‘Kristi Carter!’ one of them says. A woman with piercings through her nose and eyebrows and eyes of two different colours. Kristi smiles and walks on behind Yasmine.

Music ahead. Getting louder. Another doorway. They pass through to a wall of grungy, dirty music. Harsh chords and heavy beats with a bass that seems to bounce Kristi’s bones. Light flashing overhead with UV everywhere, bringing life to the tattoos on every other man and woman in the place. On their hands and arms. On their necks. A few have them on their faces like Abdul, but not many.

What a thing to see and a sight to take in as Yasmine leads them over to a bar and holds up two fingers and gets two small glasses filled with Elfor Juice.

Yasmine knocks hers back quickly. Needing the hit after what happened with Sam.

Needing to be out of the sterile cabin and sterile rows and sterile world above.

Needing to be away from that silence and back within the noise and smells and ugliness of her own people. The grungy music. The hard beats. She feels the Elfor Juice spreading through her body and looks around at the world she hustled in. Drank in. Fought in. Dealt and stole from, and finally she passes the second glass to Kristi.

Kristi drinks it down in one and this time she suppresses the urge to cough. Gasping it away and feeling the burn and the warmth. Then she looks at Yasmine with a questioning expression.

‘The Shades,’ Yasmine says, waving a hand. ‘It’s just a local name. It’s where we go to chill out. The workers in Neon City prefer it down here on a night off. Score. Get high. Get drunk. Whatever. It’s a lot cheaper than Neon . . . And the music is way better!’ She laughs at the last words, having to shout to be heard as Kristi nods and finds her foot moving to the beat as Yasmine gets two more drinks. Two shots of something. Not Elfor Juice, but then Kristi isn’t sure what it is. Only that it tastes amazing, albeit very strong.

‘What made you message me?’ she shouts at Yasmine who stares back with a lifetime of thoughts in her eyes and no idea of where to begin or what to say. She flounders. Looking lost and vulnerable again, which contrasts so strongly with the savage violence Kristi just saw her perpetrate, and eventually she just shrugs and leans in to rest her forehead on Kristi’s shoulder.

Kristi senses the pain and reaches up to rub the back of Yasmine’s neck with a gesture of friendship and understanding.

‘You’ll be okay,’ she shouts in Yasmine’s ear.

‘I’m so fucked up.’

‘We all are,’ Kristi shouts back, kissing the side of her head. ‘Zhang was home. He wanted sex. I said no . . . I think we’re done.’

Yasmine looks up at her. Not knowing what to say until the words spill out. ‘I can’t have sex.’

‘What?’ Kristi asks, frowning.

‘With Sam. My head. It’s fucked up. Every time he touches me I freeze and have a panic attack.’

A thousand questions form, but the music plays on as the Elfor Juice works through their bodies, making them sway a little in time to the beat. The energy nowhere near what it was earlier, but somehow a bit lighter than it was after they left their cabins.

A moment later, and after getting two more drinks, Yasmine leads Kristi over to a brightly lit, sectioned-off area with caged walls. Two bruisers inside. Bare chested and covered in blood. Fighting without gloves. Fighting without rules. People ring the cage, placing bets with virtual transactions shining up from bands while others shout and urge them on.

Kristi watches the two guys heaving for air. The battle already well underway. Then one of them lunges in and they go at each other, trading vicious nasty blows to skulls and noses and eyes. To bellies and sides. Blood sprays out. The crowd roars. One of the fighters missteps and gets hit with a powerful uppercut, rocking him back with his guard dropping and the other one goes in fast with a barrage of blows that drops the guy spark out with blood coming from his ears. His eyes lifeless.

‘Is he dead?’ Kristi asks, horrified that she might have witnessed a murder.

‘He’s okay,’ Yasmine says, seeing the downed guy breathing as a medic rushes in to roll him onto his side while the victor throws his arms up and the crowds roar.

She guides Kristi on past another cage with two women fighting. Then another one with a small guy and large woman inside. The small guy bleeding profusely and the woman unmarked save for blood on her knuckles.

‘A guy can make fifty creds if he lasts three rounds with her,’ Yasmine explains as the woman offers him a chance to go. Motioning at the way out, but the guy refuses and advances, making her shake her head and tut before hitting him and then tutting again when he goes down.

Kristi looks away and spots people arm wrestling and tables beyond with people playing games with real cards and real chips.

On they go. Downing their drinks with Yasmine somehow finding two more. She passes one over and downs her own quickly. A look in her eyes. Dark and devilish. The tattoos shining on her arms.

The music louder. Making it impossible to talk with Yasmine swaying to the grungy beat as they push into a large crowd dancing and moving. Lights strobing. Flashing and pulsing. Kristi’s head spinning. But it’s nice and she laughs when Yasmine turns to dance with her, swinging her hips and lifting her arms.

This was the only place Yasmine could ever do anything like this. In the shadows, away from Dmitri and his crew. Drunk and high. Dancing and hiding from life. She does it again now. Swaying and moving as the crowd swallows them. All of them locked into their own universes of music and booze and drugs.

It’s an alluring thing and Kristi soon joins in. Lifting her arms to move and sway, bumping into people that don’t mind. Moving around them. Losing herself to the pulsing beat. Not thinking about Zhang or work or anything. Not thinking that she’s meant to be finding out what Yasmine really stole, or what’s really going on. It’s hot too, and humid and the sweat soon starts to shine, but it only adds to the vibe.

Yasmine feels the same. Her mind free of the guilt and shame for a moment. Lost in the music and the booze and the Elfor Juice. She dances closer to Kristi. Drunk and high and not giving a shit. Not caring about the fleet. Not caring about anything. Being the old Yassy. Crazy Yassy. Wild Yassy. Running Yassy who never looked back.

Maybe that’s who she is. Maybe that’s all she was ever meant to be.

She doesn’t know and she doesn’t care but she moves closer into Kristi. Smiling drunkenly. Kristi smiles back. Pushing into her. Bumping bodies. And there it is again. The arousal. The tingle. The heat. But no panic. No fear. No worry, and Yasmine dances back, luring Kristi further into the darkness and deeper into the crowd. The two of them surrounded on all sides. Hemmed in and pressed together. The lights flashing in the dark. The beat reverbing through their bodies. The heat making them sweat as they sway and touch. The energy between them like it was earlier, but this time Sam’s image doesn’t swim into her mind and she moves in to kiss Kristi with a feeling so very different to when she kisses Sam.

Softness. A warmth. A tenderness maybe. She doesn’t know what it is, only that it’s happening as Kristi’s lips open and the kiss becomes stronger. More passionate. Both of them lost in that minute and that feeling magnifies by another hundred when Kristi’s hand moves gently up and over Yasmine’s breasts, to her neck, to her jaw, to her cheek as they kiss and push into each other. It seems to last forever, and every time the thrill of it seems to peak, so they touch and move, and it only grows more until she’s kissing Kristi’s neck and ears and shoulders. Not being passive. Not being scared.

Yasmine pulls back, frowning gently, not understanding it. Not getting it. Why is it okay with Kristi and not with Sam? She’s not gay. Yasmine has never felt attracted to women. And she never felt physically attracted to Kristi – it came from them spending time together. Which means the arousal was with Kristi as a person, and not what she looks like. But now that the arousal is there, she does find Kristi attractive.

What the fuck does that mean?

Yeah. She definitely needs to run that scan.

But whatever. She’s had enough shit to last forever so that and everything else can go screw itself because for the first time since she can remember, Yasmine is able to kiss someone and not panic and so she does it now and kisses and dances and laughs and sways in the darkness and shadows.

And time goes on until they finally slip from the dance floor and find more drinks.

Another two shots of Elfor Juice. Another two of something else, until finally, Yasmine takes Kristi’s hand and leads her through the dancers and past the gamblers and the brawlers.

All the way to the back to another door and through to dim yellow lights broken by flickering pulses of neon strips. Booths to the side. Goods on sale. Powders and pills.

Yasmine makes a trade for a vape stick and inhales deeply, before passing it to Kristi. She takes a hit. Synth cannabis. It feels good. Relaxing. Chilling. The music softer in here. Lilting. Pleasant.

They go on past people smiling and nodding. Past booths filled with soft cushions and people getting high and getting groovy.

On they go. Deeper. Yasmine holding Kristi’s hand. The two of them doped and drunk.

Then Yasmine stops. ‘You’re not really allowed down here,’ she says into Kristi’s ear. ‘They’re only letting you cos I vouched.’

‘Because you killed Dmitri?’

Yasmine blinks. ‘Yeah. Something like that.’ She goes to move off as Kristi pulls her back.

‘Why did you kill him?’

A question asked openly and one that would normally make Yasmine’s wall go up, but it’s different now and she can see the yearning in Kristi’s eyes.

‘Cos he’s a psychotic cunt that ruined my life . . .’

‘Is that why you can’t have sex with Sam?’

‘Not now, Kristi,’ Yasmine says, looking her in the eye.

‘Later? I want to know about you.’

Yasmine nods. ‘Later. Let me show you this . . . Honestly, it’s weird as fuck.’

She smiles again, leading Kristi towards a curtained-off area. A glance back. A look in her eye and they go through, their eyes instantly smarting from the synth cannabis fumes in the air. People are leaning against walls or sitting in booths, looking at their new tattoos shining and bloody on their arms and hands.

A laugh ahead. Deep and braying. They reach the end. A large room. People inside, sitting on chairs and leaning against walls. The air thick with vape and scents. Music playing. A synth track overlaid with that hard dirty beat.

A big bald man ahead of them on a chair, sucking on a pipe connected to a machine from which the pungent synth cannabis pumps out. He inhales deeply. Sucking it in as Kristi draws closer. Feeling a powerful presence in the room. A weird energy. A strangeness she can’t identify. But only that it’s there.

People ahead of them standing and watching and all staring ahead to the big guy puffing on his hookah synth pipe. An AI surgical bed next to him. Tables to his sides covered in things hidden within the clouds of vape.

A man coming away from the bed looking at his arm. At the stick-figure tattoo freshly drawn. His first one. His friends waiting for him in hushed awe. Patting his back and sides and marvelling at the artwork as Kristi realises all the people standing are waiting to be inked.

‘We just want to see,’ Yasmine says, leading Kristi to the front as they step out and look down on the big guy puffing on the hookah. A big belly and a bald head. Like a Buddha, but every part of him tattooed in stick-figures. Ink all over his face and head and arms. His chest and stomach.

He laughs again. Deep and loud and long and for what reason, Kristi doesn’t know. But she marvels at the set-up and realises, despite being drunk, high and inhaling very strong cannabis vapours, that it’s just one man doing all of the stick-figure tattoos.

That’s it. Just this one guy.

‘Do people have to book?’ Kristi asks, keeping her voice low. Yasmine shakes her head.

‘You just come down and wait.’

‘So like first come first served?’

‘People can wait for days. Weeks even. And you won’t get done unless you were born down here.’

Kristi watches on as the big guy draws a hit from his pipe and the vapour rolls up and out. The music playing. The lights low and the big man looking out over the crowd.

‘Is he choosing the next one?’ Kristi whispers.

Yasmine nods. Waiting to see who he selects.

‘And what if he doesn’t like your design? Does that ever happen?’ Kristi asks as Yasmine frowns at her with a wry smile.

‘You don’t pick. He does.’

‘He does?’

‘He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t even have a name. He’s just He.’

‘Like Him?’

‘No. He. Only ever He.’

‘Okay. And why is he looking at you?’ Kristi asks.

‘Eh?’ Yasmine says, turning back to see He staring at her. His eyes alive with mischief and fun. His mouth smiling and he pulls the pipe away to laugh deep and loud and long and points the pipe at Yasmine. ‘Oh fuck. I don’t want any more,’ she whispers, shooting a look to Kristi before smiling at He and starting to walk over.

‘Don’t get one then!’ Kristi whispers, but it obviously doesn’t work like that, and Yasmine goes forward. Staring at He as He stares back at her for a very long time. Puffing on his hookah. Staring into her eyes. Into her soul. To the very core of her existence. His eyes shining and glinting. Holding her still as Kristi hardly dares to breathe.

Then he nods and Yasmine sits on the bed. He motions her to lie down. She does it instantly, as Kristi understands the strength of tradition and what it means. Then she blinks and steps closer when the bed moves and Yasmine turns so her face is below and staring up at the smiling He.

He draws another long inhalation then the pipe goes down and the tattoo gun comes up and he bends towards Yasmine.

‘Her face?’ Kristi says, stepping forward in horror as Yasmine waves at her to be quiet and He pauses to look up at her. His eyes holding her rooted to the spot. Seeing into her. Seeing her soul. He goes to work and lasers shine from the gun, penetrating the skin as Yasmine feels her face being tattooed.

A thing being done and word spreads as Kristi turns to see more people flooding into the room. Crowding to the front. Cramming in to see because face tattoos are not common and it’s Yassy.

It’s quick too. Quicker than Kristi would have ever thought, but He blocks the view. Not letting anyone see. Not pausing. Not letting up.

Kristi covers her mouth. Feeling the importance of the event and how she’d refuse to get her face done, and Yasmine has the most beautiful face. Her skin is flawless, and yet she accepted it without question.

Then it’s finished and He turns to smile at Kristi and laughs as he finally pulls back but keeps a hand on Yasmine’s shoulder. Holding her down and keeping her still as he motions for Kristi to come and see.

She looks down. Seeing tears streaming from Yasmine’s eyes and gasps at the work.

Stick-figures on her cheeks and temples. Yassy in a box. Trapped and bouncing to get out with incredibly skilled silhouettes representing motion. Wild Yassy. Crazy Yassy. But that’s not the main one.

The main one covers her forehead with a stick-figure holding a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. Dead stick-figures underneath. Killed by her. Other stick-figures behind on their sides as though flying. All of them smiling.

‘Oh shit,’ Kristi gasps, getting it. Understanding it as He passes an old mirror for Yasmine to see herself. ‘It’s you.’ Kristi whispers, crying at the sight of it. The tears falling fast as Yasmine sees her face forever marked and inked. ‘Can you see?’ Kristi asks. ‘It’s you killing Dmitri and freeing the Elfors . . .’

Yasmine stares until He finally releases her shoulder, and she sits up with the crowd falling silent in awe. All of them staring as Yasmine frowns gently and turns to nod at He.

He doesn’t nod back. He just picks his pipe up and takes a long hit then looks at Kristi and shakes his head.

‘That means you’re not an Elfor,’ Yasmine whispers, getting up and walking off as the crowd parts to let her past.

‘Where do you pay?’ Kristi asks as Yasmine smiles over her shoulder.

‘You don’t. It’s free . . . I need a booth.’ She reaches back to take Kristi’s hand and pulls her on past the silent people watching them go. The corridor beyond just as packed and just as silent. All of them looking at Yasmine’s forehead. All of them seeing the woman who killed Dmitri. Some nod. Some murmur. And it makes the hairs on the back of Kristi’s neck stand up.

They get through to a quickly vacated booth filled with soft cushions that Yasmine flops onto then motions for Kristi to let the curtain go and give them privacy.

‘Does it hurt?’ Kristi asks, lowering next her.

‘Fuck yeah,’ Yasmine snorts as Kristi tuts softly, smiling and lifting Yasmine’s head up to rest on her lap. Stroking her neck and pulling her fingers through her hair.

Yasmine stares up as the curtain twitches and someone passes a sealed beaker inside. Kristi takes it and sniffs the opening, scenting the Elfor Juice inside. ‘More?’ she asks.

She takes a glug anyway and passes it to Yasmine, lifting her head to take a sip with both relaxing into the spiked liquid. Comfortable in silence until Yasmine stirs, the pain lessening as the Elfor Juice works its magic.

‘I want to see,’ Yasmine whispers, swiping her band to bring a 3-D holographic reflection of herself to life hovering only inches away. Yasmine Dufont. Black hair and olive skin with dark eyes and now forever marked with gleaming stick-figures on her cheeks and on her temples, but it’s the work on her forehead that draws the eye. A masterful tapestry showing an event from life. ‘I look like Abdul,’ she whispers as Kristi frowns and goes to speak but thinks better of it and Yasmine examines her own reflection. Searching for meaning. Searching for reasons. Forever searching and never finding.

‘You’re still beautiful,’ Kristi whispers, reaching out to gently swipe a bead of blood running over Yasmine’s ear. ‘In fact, I think it’s made you even more beautiful.’

Yasmine frowns. Not understanding the need for people to constantly speak about physical beauty and what they are on the outside. But then that’s what Dmitri always said to her. He was obsessed with how she looked and said she was his and that he’d kill anyone that touched her.

Now he’s dead and she stares at the stick-figure holding the gun and the knife and she doesn’t know what to think about that. Only that He chooses what He inks, and He is never wrong. Or at least that’s how Elforists see it, then she startles from her thoughts as Kristi bends lower to gently kiss her lips, and she closes her eyes.

Enjoying the contact from another human being.

Enjoying the feeling of being wanted and desired and cared for but without the masculine toxicity she’s always known before. No boob gropes. No hands on her ass. No worry about sex or fucking or being something for someone else to use for their own gratification – because even Sam. Gentle, kind Sam is still a man with a dick – and this isn’t like that at all.

It’s just a kiss. A soft warm kiss that isn’t pre-loaded with expectations of something else happening and so it goes on and the feel of Kristi’s lips gently pressing against hers is nice and all the things she said run through her mind. All the things they shared. She opens her eyes. Staring up into the blueness of Kristi’s feeling safe and warm with her hand finding Kristi’s. Their fingers entwining. Safe. Warm. She lifts a fraction to touch lips again. Safe. Warm. Soft kisses. Soft breaths. Soft smiles. A tear breaks free. Not from sadness. Not from pain. It just does and it rolls down her temple over the stick-figure in a box. Wild Yassy. Crazy Yassy.

Kristi watches it and reaches down to scoop it up with her finger and brings it to her mouth with every action seemingly speaking volumes. Her own mind as confused as Yasmine’s, because she set out to get into Yasmine’s world to find out what was going on, to manipulate her, and then later, to seduce her. But now she’s here. Tasting her tears. Looking at the tattoos. Holding her hand. Feeling something deep inside. Deep and real and raw that makes her own eyes leak with slow tears falling, except she doesn’t know why. Only that Zhang doesn’t matter. Her career doesn’t matter. None of it does and she gains that sudden overwhelming sense of realness as she glimpses life through Yasmine’s eyes. The vicious reality of growing up in the Elfors. The rawness of it. The awfulness and violence and how only the strong survive, and Yasmine didn’t just survive, she found a way to thrive. She fought like a demon to crawl her way up out of the pile to stand at the top and gain the tapestry on her forehead. Inked like Abdul.

Helga gave freedom to the Elfors. But it was Abdul and Yasmine that gave freedom within the Elfors when they took the monster down.

And suddenly there it is.

A feeling inside of Kristi. A need to be as raw and vulnerable as Yasmine. To be as truthful and honest as she is and the thought of using her causes a surge of pain that makes the tears fall faster.

‘Don’t cry,’ Yasmine whispers, reaching up to wipe the tears away. ‘It’s okay.’

Kristi stares down. Knowing she has to be real. Knowing she owes Yasmine that much and to hell with whatever’s going on. To hell with Helga. With Zhang. With whatever fucking conspiracy is going on. She doesn’t care. She just wants to be as honest and real as Yasmine and she lowers to kiss her lips with the tears falling and a surge of something inside.

‘I know,’ she whispers. Holding Yasmine. Their lips touching. Fleeting. Soft. Warm. Safe. ‘I know you didn’t steal a crypto-bond . . . I know there’s something big going on . . .’ She closes her eyes with a surge of relief for being honest. ‘And it’s okay,’ she adds, kissing Yasmine again. Pressing her lips against hers. Soft. Warm. Safe. ‘I know you took something else. I know you pretended to be Mahatma. I know Helga is behind it and I don’t care.’

‘Get your fucking hands off me!’ A hard thrust and Kristi flies back, rolling over the cushions as Yasmine surges up.

A mistake made. A wrong turn taken. A thud of her heart. Her stomach twists. She swallows as the energy spikes, hardening in an instant.

‘No! Wait!’ Kristi snaps, sitting up to grab Yasmine’s arm. ‘Listen to me!’

‘You don’t know what this is. You don’t know anything,’ Yasmine says. Spitting the words out hard and fast.

‘Yassy!’

‘Is that what this is?’

‘What?’

‘This!’

‘This what, Yassy?! What this?’

‘This!’ Yasmine snaps, motioning between them. Her mind filling with panic because she stole a code to a new planet and if that gets out then everyone dies. ‘Oh fuck. What have I done?’

‘You haven’t done anything!’

‘What the fuck have I done?’ Yasmine asks again, her face draining with fear and horror as she looks at Kristi. ‘You fucking used me.’

‘What? No! I just wanted to get close to you.’

‘What!’

‘No! I meant. I liked you. After we started hanging out. No. Fuck! It’s coming out wrong.’ A surge of panic inside Kristi. The Elfor Juice and booze making the words and thoughts muddled and unclear. ‘No, wait. Listen. I wanted to be open and say I know so you can be you and tell me.’

‘Tell you? You did this so I would fucking tell you?’

‘No! I didn’t say that. I didn’t mean it that way.’

‘You fucking cunt,’ Yasmine snarls, moving in fast with a hand to Kristi’s throat and Kristi sinks back, seeing the violence within Yasmine as she goes down with Yasmine on top, glaring into her. ‘You listen to me. You fucking listen to me,’ Yasmine growls, not squeezing. Not hurting her. But holding her nonetheless. Dominating her vision. ‘You don’t touch this. You leave it alone.’

‘Fuck you,’ Kristi fires back with her own flash of defiance.

‘Everyone will die,’ Yasmine says as the breath catches in Kristi’s throat. Her eyes growing wider at the absolute conviction within Yasmine. The belief. A fact spoken. Not a threat made. ‘They will kill everyone. Me. You. Everyone on this ship and everyone in the fleet if they have to. They don’t need us and they won’t stop until they get it back. You don’t touch it. You don’t speak about it.’

‘What? Touch what? What did you take?’

‘Nothing!’

‘What!?’ Kristi demands, bucking to get free, pushing back, fighting back. Yasmine relents. Easing away. Her chest heaving. ‘What?’ Kristi asks again as Yasmine shakes her head and backs away. The wall going up. The wall Yasmine perfected over a lifetime as Kristi feels the energy cutting off and Yasmine’s aura drawing back. ‘No! No no no,’ she says, scrabbling over the cushions as though she can grasp that energy and pull it back. ‘Yassy, tell me! Please . . . Yassy! We’ve got something. We have something!’

‘Get fucked,’ Yasmine hisses, getting to her feet. Imposing. Dark. Shut off.

‘We have something!’ Kristi says, getting up to block her off while feeling panicked and knowing she’s already lost. ‘Fuck! I like you! I really like you. Don’t. Just fucking don’t,’ she says, but the magic is gone and whatever it was that was so wonderful and pure now lies broken and as dirty as everything else. ‘You know what? Fuck you then.’

Yasmine snorts. Dry. Bitter. Dark. Motioning for Kristi to move.

‘Keep your secret. I don’t fucking care,’ Kristi says. ‘I know it meant something. It meant something to me!’

‘You fucking seduced me!’

‘You let me!’

‘FUCK YOU!’

‘No! Yassy. Wait. I didn’t mean that. Fuck!’

‘Move, Kristi.’

‘Yassy!’

‘My name is Yasmine. Now fucking move.’

‘Whatever. Run back to daddy and keep your fucking secrets.’

She steps aside with Yasmine taking a step to leave as the words sink in and she looks back at Kristi’s mocking sneer.

‘You even look more like him now,’ Kristi adds bitterly, seeing the confusion in Yasmine. Real confusion. Not faked.

‘What?’ Yasmine asks. Not understanding what Kristi means.

‘Oh my god,’ Kristi says, seeing the raw honesty and vulnerability there once more in Yasmine’s eyes. ‘Oh god. Yassy,’ she whispers, covering her own mouth.

‘What?’ Yasmine asks, blinking tears away.

‘Yassy . . .’

‘He’s . . . he’s not,’ Yasmine whispers, shaking her head. Not believing it. Refusing it because it can’t be.

‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry,’ Kristi says, edging forward to take Yasmine’s hands. ‘Yassy. I’m sorry. I forgot you didn’t know.’

Yasmine shakes her head again. Her mouth moving but no words coming as Kristi looks at her olive skin and dark eyes. Her height. Her build. Her manner. Her energy. Her traits, and now the tattoos gleaming on her face.

All of it the same as her father.

All of it the same as Abdul.

23

Run motherfucker.

Run like you never ran before.

Run like you’re on fire.

Run like the ship is ablaze.

Run with every ounce of rage in your gut.

Run and run and never look back.

Run motherfucker.

Yasmine runs. Oh, she runs.

Staggering back from Kristi in the booth with her eyes changing from lost and hurt to something else as the darkness deep within starts to bubble and boil with trouble and toil.

Up and up it comes. Erupting in her mind and bringing with it the need to do violence, and so she staggers from the booth into the corridor and headbutts a guy for being in her way.

Run motherfucker.

Run like you never ran before.

Out of the corridors into the dancefloor. Grungy music. Hard beats. Flashing lights. Her face inked. People seeing it and staring in awe. Others too slow hit and punched and kicked because this is the Shades and this is the Elfors and violence comes easy.

On she goes with Kristi racing behind her. Out past the cages. Past the gamblers and fighters. Out through the eaters and talkers. Out to the door. To the bouncer holding position with a voltage stick in her hand.

‘Stop her!’ Kristi yells, but Kristi Carter holds no power here and the bouncer just stares and steps aside, heaving the door open to let Yasmine go. Not wanting to be a part of it. Seeing the rage. Seeing the tattoos, and Yasmine runs through the lanes and walkways with memories in her mind.

How could she not see it? How?

‘Yasmine!’ Kristi yells as Yasmine hits the stairs and starts powering up.

Run motherfucker.

Run like you never ran before because you suffered a life while he was there all along. Watching and doing nothing. Making money. Trading. Hustling. Letting her suffer through years of pain that could have been ended.

And so she runs, gasping and hurting with blood seeping from the now-invisible tattoos on her face. With sweat coursing down. With wild dark eyes and rage inside.

Wild Yassy. Crazy Yassy.

From 40 to the top. Level after level with Kristi shouting and yelling for her to stop. Begging her. Pleading. Gasping. Hurting. Not giving up. Not giving in. In this now. A part of it.

Run motherfucker.

From the bottom where she was born in the gutter under the dirty rain to lie hungry and cold at night. A dead mother. No family. No anything.

And he was there all along. Doing nothing. Not stopping it.

She hits Level 15 and slows. Her chest unable to get enough air in. She staggers on with Kristi desperately trying to catch up. She reaches out, grabs Yasmine’s arm, pulls her back. ‘Wait,’ she gasps.

Yasmine gives in. Holding still. Bent over. Sweat and blood pouring down her face. Memories in her mind. The loneliness. The isolation. The years of degradation.

Dmitri.

Fucking Dmitri.

She snarls at the thoughts. He raped her and Abdul did nothing, and she thinks of Gorgeous Georgie and how the people moved in to protect her. Letting her heal. Keeping her safe. Why didn’t that happen? Where was he? Yasmine was left alone with broken bones and cut skin, crying in pain for days then running and running.

Where was he then?

Run motherfucker.

‘Fuck! Yassy!’ Kristi yells as Yasmine bursts away with a fresh surge of rage driving her up from Level 15 all the way to the top. To Level 1 with Kristi thinking at least the security doors will stop her.

But they don’t.

Because Yasmine is part of this now. She has access. She has admission to the movers and shakers. To the power brokers riding the ship at the top while the pigs wallow in their misery below. Festering and hurting. Going hungry and cold and forgotten and she spills out onto the Level 1 corridor. Heaving for air. Blood streaked down her face. Dripping onto her chest. Onto her arms.

Laughter. Voices. Music. She snarls and turns towards it as Kristi gets through the door before it closes and sees Yasmine running for the open door to the big office.

‘YASSY!’ she yells with everything she has as the laughing cuts off and people move inside. Abdul’s in there, further back. Staring at the door and the demon coming through. A UV light shining from Chi-Chi’s music video. Bathing them all. Pretty Penny. Colin. Clara. Boris. Pasha. Helga. Janey. Jorgey. Level 1 workers and all of them with cartons of food and beakers filled with booze. All of them rising to their feet in shock at the sight of Yasmine stopping in the doorway. Covered in blood and wild-eyed and that UV light shines down. Giving life to all of their stick-figure tattoos. Giving life to Abdul’s face.

Giving life to hers as Abdul steps back from the look in her eyes.

‘You!’ she screams out with spittle flying from her lips.

Run motherfucker.

She runs. Oh how she runs. Into that room with Pretty Penny darting out to block her and getting slammed aside, crying out from the impact that Yasmine didn’t feel as she vaults a desk to run over the top with everyone shouting and yelling.

All except Abdul who stands his ground, figuring it out, but then his mind always did work fast. Just like Yasmine’s does and his dark furious eyes watch as she runs over the desk and launches herself into him with fists finding his head. Knocking him back. He stays upright. Taking the blows as Colin grabs Yasmine and gets a reverse headbutt for his troubles. Breaking his nose and sending him sprawling as Yasmine goes back at Abdul. Punching his face and driving him back into a desk then over and across a chair and onto the floor. Kristi’s arms on her. Clara. Boris. Others. All of them shouting. All of them yelling.

But Yasmine hears none of it because Abdul could have stopped the pain. He could have ended it.

‘Where were you?’ she demands, spitting the words out as the others drag her off.

‘I was there!’

She screams in pure rage, getting free of whoever is holding her to get back at him. Punching him again. Hurting him like she was hurt.

‘I was there, Yassy!’

‘YOU WEREN’T!’

‘I WAS THERE.’

‘HE FUCKING RAPED ME!’ she screams, slamming her fists into him for what Dmitri did to her. ‘He fucking raped me,’ she half-sobs but refuses to be weak and cry and punches again. The blood dripping from her face. From her hands. Her knuckles hurting. Everything hurting. But that rage inside still burning and she hits again as hands try to get her off, but she explodes with an energy even she didn’t know she had. Wild like an animal. Wild like nothing has ever been wild before until someone hits her from the side. Ripping her away to take her down to the floor. Clamping arms around her. Holding her tight. Refusing to let go.

‘GET OFF!’ Yasmine screams over and over.

‘OUT! ALL OF YOU GET OUT!’ Helga screams, holding Yasmine. Taking the blows. Her lip hit and bleeding. Her face a mask. Holding Yasmine tight and screaming at everyone else to fuck off and get out.

They wilt back. Helping Abdul up. His face bleeding and hurt. ‘I didn’t know,’ he says again. Stricken. Wretched, but it sets Yasmine off with every vein bulging from her skin and every muscle locked and straining to get free.

‘Get out,’ Helga hisses as they all leave. Kristi too. Pulled away by Clara and Penny. The room falling silent. The door closing. Yasmine gasping. Still straining to get free. Her face red. Her body locked. Helga holding her on the floor. Arms and legs wrapped around her.

But Helga doesn’t let her go. She holds on because she knows what it’s like to be hurt and humiliated. ‘Let it out,’ she whispers the words into Yasmine’s ear. Gasping for air. Hurting and bleeding from Yasmine thrashing. ‘You have to let it out, Yasmine.’

Yasmine thrashes harder with a final burst of energy so dark and awful she thinks she will surely die, but she welcomes it. Her mind filled with images of Dmitri. Sam. Kristi. Her life in the Elfors. The rape. Trying to make love to Sam. Kissing Kristi and there, behind it all, Abdul’s face swims over her own. The same features. The same skin. How did she not see it? And where was he? Where?

‘He wasn’t there,’ she says, her voice broken. Her voice cracking.

‘He was there,’ Helga whispers.

A feeling inside of Yasmine. A rush of something coming up that was held deeper than the rage. That was locked and contained.

‘You have to let it out or this will kill you, Yasmine.’

‘I’ll fucking die then.’

‘You won’t. I won’t let you . . . Let it out . . . Let it out . . .’ she repeats the words as that feeling rises in Yasmine. Taking over her whole life as all the images and thoughts and memories come down to one single, solitary fact.

To one thing as she screams silently. Every muscle locked with a pain inside tearing her apart as Helga thinks the girl will surely die.

But the silent scream ends and the first sob heaves Yasmine’s body. Coming from deep within as that one single solitary thing holds in her mind. A thing that needs to come out.

‘He hurt me,’ she gasps as the sobs come out. ‘He raped me . . . He broke my bones . . .’ She breaks off to cry with tears and snot and pain coming out as Helga finally loosens her arms but holds her close.

There on the floor covered in food and beakers in a Level 1 office as Yasmine finally finds the real tears to give. Not the one or two she shed with Kristi, but the whole of it that was stored up for years, and she sobs so deep it hurts and through it all, Helga holds her. Rubbing her back. Stroking her hair. Rubbing her arms and helping it come out.

And so there, upon that floor, Yasmine Emile Dufont lies for a very long time, and she sobs more than she ever thought possible. Curled up and hurting and wishing she could die so the pain would go.

But that’s not how it works, and the pain doesn’t go that way.

Hours of awful, raw emotion come out, there on the floor of that Level 1 office.

It comes out as the fleet flies on and the blood dries on Helga’s lip. And it comes out until Yasmine’s belly hurts so much she starts to heave and puke and the vomit spills out as Helga uses her sleeve to wipe Yasmine’s mouth and clean her face. Wiping away the snot and tears.

And then hours drift on as Yasmine grows still and breathes in and out, Helga still holding her.

Safe.

Warm.

‘Abdul didn’t know,’ Helga whispers when the time becomes right to speak. ‘The rape only came out recently.’

Yasmine doesn’t reply, but she knows that is true. Nobody knew. Yasmine never told anyone. Penny knew, but it was Yasmine’s business.

‘But he was there,’ Helga whispers, stroking her hair. ‘We’ve talked about it a lot. I saw it in you the first time we met and I made him tell me. He said he always suspected when your mother became pregnant, but he was young and in poverty himself and he had nothing to give and as the years went by he said you started to look like him. And he made sure food found its way to you when it got bad. Rats or pelts to sell. Things you could use. He passed things back to Colly through other people . . . But he didn’t know what Dmitri did. He told me he would have killed him. I believe him, Yasmine. Abdul is a killer.’

‘Like me,’ Yasmine whispers.

Helga nods. ‘We are who we are. But only when needed, and only when it was right.’

Silence again. Long and deep.

‘I can’t have sex with Sam.’

‘I know.’

She cries again. ‘I’m broken.’

‘Yes. Yes, you are,’ Helga says, refusing to lie. ‘But you are who you need to be.’

Silence again. Long and deep.

‘I have panic attacks when Sam touches me. But I kissed Kristi . . . And I didn’t get a panic attack. But I’m not gay.’

‘It’s okay to be gay.’

‘I know. But I’m not. I didn’t have the panic attack with Kristi. It felt . . . It felt nice. I haven’t had that before. What does that mean?’

‘It means you’re human and flawed. It means you have emotions and love and because someone masculine hurt you that love wilts back when you’re near a man, but a woman is different. The energy is different. People are unique, Yasmine, and we’re all made of many parts, but you asked me and that’s my take on it.’

Yasmine nods. Knowing it makes sense. ‘What do I do?’

‘Finish with Sam.’

Yasmine tenses as the tears fall harder.

‘Shush. It’s okay. Don’t panic. It’ll be okay. You need time to heal, Yasmine. You need time to know who you are and what you want.’

‘I want Sam . . . I said I’d protect him!’

Helga nods softly. The words resonating. The instinct always there to protect Sam and keep him safe.

‘There’s something very magical about him, isn’t there,’ Helga whispers. ‘In fact, I rather think Sam might be our only way out of this. I don’t know how, only that it feels that way. But I’ve got him now, Yasmine. Sam is up here with me and Ivan and Olga and Abdul and Colin and Clara all looking out for him. And you know we’d all give our lives for Sam. That’s the power he has over people. That thing he has inside of him. It’s beautiful and pure . . . I didn’t free the Elfors. Sam did it. He took my voice and yours and Abdul’s and he made people listen. That’s what Sam can do. And he needs to feel safe, and right now with all this going on with you he doesn’t. We have the code for a new planet, Yasmine. They will kill us all. I need Sam on point, and I need you on point, and you two together is destroying you both, so I’m going to take care of Sam from now on. Is that okay?’

It’s not okay. But it is okay and Yasmine nods.

‘Good. And I’m going to take care of you too, Yassy. We’re family now. You have to trust me. Is that okay?’

That’s not okay either. But it is okay and again Yasmine nods once.

‘Good. Because we’ve got work to do. I need you in the tombs. I need you to do what you do, Yasmine. I need you to be you. Will you do that for me?’

Truth be told, right then, right there, Yasmine would do anything Helga asked of her and so once more she nods. Her loyalty given forever. Her fealty sworn.

‘Everything will be okay,’ Helga says. Sitting against a desk with Yasmine’s head on her lap. Stroking her hair while her face gleams with stick-figures and Helga’s cold blue eyes stare down. Unblinking. Unflinching. ‘And, if you want to kiss some girls and dance then you go ahead,’ she says with a smile, earning a soft laugh as Yasmine looks up. Once again held and comforted.

Once again warm.

Once again safe.

PART III

THE ELFOR WAR

24

Darkness on the bridge save for the soft glow of a few emergency lights and Helga stands at the windows staring out to the fleet. Her hands clasped behind her back.

Motion behind her. Footsteps coming up the stairs followed by a masculine release of air when Abdul reaches the top.

‘Sam?’ he asks, seeing the captain’s chair now empty and the air not filled with holo screens.

‘Sleeping,’ Helga says.

‘Where?’

‘I’ve had a room made for him downstairs on Level 1.’

Abdul grunts and walks over to the captain’s chair. Lowering in with a heavy sigh. ‘Was he okay with that?’

Helga shrugs. ‘He’s confused.’

‘He’s not the only one,’ Abdul mutters as the silence stretches on for a long moment. ‘Yassy?’

‘She’s gone home.’

‘Was she okay?’

Helga lets the question hang for a second. ‘No. She is not okay. Yasmine is deeply traumatised. But she will be okay.’ Helga finally turns to look at Abdul’s dark face and eyes glinting in the shadows. ‘She’s like her father.’

Abdul exhales again. Drawing a hand down over his bruised and swollen face. Blinking with memories and thoughts and how he knew deep down that the night Yasmine and Sam ran into the Ritzy Ditzy to hide from Dmitri marked something significant.

It was the first time he made an open move against Dmitri and used his own security team to protect Yasmine. But he had to. Dmitri needed putting down and Yasmine was his daughter. He knew it in his guts. In his bones. It was in her eyes. In the colour of her skin and the way she spoke and moved and the way she hated people standing over her.

‘How did she find out?’ Abdul asks at length.

‘She probably looked in a mirror,’ Helga says as Abdul snorts drily. ‘Kristi Carter.’

‘Kristi?’

‘They kissed.’

‘Yassy kissed Kristi?’

Helga nods and stares out of the window as Abdul frowns. He did wonder why Kristi chased Yasmine all the way up to the Level 1 offices. He also wondered why she had Yasmine’s blood on her, and why she was so quick to risk the blows of Yasmine’s temper to try and drag her away. Then he got a heads-up that Yassy had been into the Shades with Kristi to see He, which is how Yassy ended up with the face ink. But nobody mentioned a kiss.

‘Why did they kiss?’ he asks, earning a look from Helga. ‘Is she gay?’

‘Why do you think people kiss?’ Helga asks as Abdul looks blank.

‘When they want sex normally.’

‘That is a very male answer,’ she says with an eyeroll while turning back to the window. ‘Kissing isn’t always about sex. And sexuality isn’t always binary, Abdul. People are complex beings with needs that differ as they grow and change.’ She falls silent. Thinking it all through. ‘If you want my take on it, I don’t think either of them are gay. Zhang is a sex addict but otherwise a very cold man and Kristi craves contact and expression. He can’t give her that. It would never have worked between them, and as for Yasmine. She’s deeply traumatised and can’t connect with Sam on an intimate level but she’s also a passionate person who has locked her emotions down for a very long time and I think, although I may be wrong, that Kristi befriended Yasmine to try and find out what was going on, but somewhere amid it all perhaps something organic and natural took place. She wouldn’t have chased Yasmine up forty flights of stairs and got headbutted trying to pull her away otherwise.’

Another grunt from Abdul. One that suggests he now gets it. ‘Yassy wouldn’t have told her anything,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘But it does mean Kristi is still sniffing around and she clearly didn’t buy the story you told her.’

‘I didn’t think she would.’

‘Then why tell her?’

‘To buy time.’

Silence again with both of them thinking the same thing.

‘There’s a lot of lives at stake,’ Abdul says quietly as Helga nods.

‘If needs must then we will. But not yet.’

Abdul listens, his dark eyes locked on Helga. ‘Who though? You can’t ask Zhang or Yassy to kill Kristi.’

‘Either you or I then,’ Helga says as Abdul grimaces with distaste and looks away. ‘As you said. There are a lot of lives at stake and we can’t risk Kristi exposing anything . . . unless it is right for us to do so.’

Abdul nods. Lifting his eyebrows at Helga’s strategic mind. A deeply intelligent man full of cunning and guile but even he admits that Helga’s mind works on another level.

‘And everything else?’ he asks, nodding past her to the window and the fleet beyond. ‘There’s nothing happening.’

‘There is. We just can’t see it,’ Helga says, staring at the Ark. ‘There’s something going on. That’s for damn sure. But you are right. They haven’t taken any action since threatening Fei.’

‘There’s six of them,’ Abdul says as Helga uses the reflection to look at him. Knowing what he means and that getting six leaders to agree on anything is hard enough at the best of times. But you take the six most influential people in the fleet and make them decide how to deal with someone else stealing their code and Helga can only imagine the disagreements. ‘I’m surprised they haven’t rammed our ships together,’ Abdul adds, nodding at Fei’s ship flying nearby. One of the Virtue fleet and identical in size and shape to the Humility, the Kindness and the Abstinence.

‘They would have considered it. But the fact they haven’t means they can’t agree.’

‘They will,’ Abdul says quietly, confidently. ‘We have the code. They want it back. They’ll make a move. We just need to be ready when they do.’

‘We’ll be ready,’ Helga says, staring out to the fleet while a few thousand miles away in a darkened room at the top of the biggest structure ever made by humanity, the Jade Emperor also stands at a window staring at the white blob on the furthest edge.

The worldship Humility.

A feeling inside that Helga is there right now staring back, like they’re two generals readying their armies for war.

A lull after the first few skirmishes as each probed the other, and now they ready for the battle.

Not that Helga can win. She’s spirited, that’s for sure, but no. She cannot ever win. The sheer power the Jade Emperor wields makes it impossible.

And, if she does this right, that power will only increase.

She turns away and enters a small windowless room, securing the door behind her. A second later an anti-intrusion sphere blooms up around her and at the head of the fleet, within an unnamed and unregistered matt black vessel, six apparitions form in a circle. Vapourish and indistinct.

A seventh form. Solid and clear but not within the circle of the others.

‘My advice to be cautious was ignored,’ Lakshmi says, her form wavering within the ghouls as the quiet man, Hector Baptiste, watches from the side.

‘You’re like the boy who cried wolf, Lakshmi!’ Plutus snaps. ‘Be cautious. Be cautious. You’re always saying it!’

‘I think we were already far too cautious,’ Venus announces. ‘We should have gone with my plan and killed Sully, Carlos and that bitch Fei Hung-Shu. We still can! Ram their ships together. All of them. All four of them and get rid of the whole lot. That’s what I say.’

‘Agreed!’ Shango says quickly as Hector nods, seeing it now.

The Jade Emperor told him Venus and Shango are coupling, and she’s right. Hector can see the tiny nuances in their behaviour. Venus has become more outspoken, emboldened by Shango with a growing belief that together they yield more power than the others. Shango has changed too. His infatuation has turned him into an echo chamber for Venus.

How interesting.

‘Smashing their ships together is the worst thing we can do,’ Lakshmi says.

‘Why?’ Venus demands.

‘Because of the fallout,’ Ares cuts in, shaking his ghoulish head at Venus in a clear show of frustration.

‘So?’ Venus asks. ‘I thought we wanted lots of confusion to keep all the idiots distracted while we work out how far we are from this damned planet. And that has to be close! I mean come on! There must be a probe we can launch to find out where the thing is.’

‘Why can’t we launch a probe?’ Plutus asks. ‘If Sully Singh can sneak one onto the Gagarin then why the hell can’t we launch one?’

‘We launch probes all the time,’ Shango says. ‘I know we do. It’s my minerals and technology being used in them.’

‘We all play a part in everything within the fleet,’ Lakshmi says. ‘Now. I suggest we stop bickering and decide on our next course of action with clear heads.’

‘Hear, hear,’ Ares says.

‘Do you bark on command, Ares?’ Venus asks with a mocking tone.

‘At least I bark, unlike your pet Shango,’ Ares fires back.

‘How dare you!’ Shango growls the words as Hector waits for the Jade Emperor to clear her throat, or move a hand, or speak one word in that way she does to bring instant silence.

Except this time she doesn’t do anything, and instead she watches on in silence.

‘We are getting off the point,’ Lakshmi says, holding her hands out to calm the others. ‘Helga has strengthened her position and shown she is willing to counter us.’

‘The Feds should have seized control,’ Shango says. ‘They boarded the Humility under mandate from the Fleet Federal Authority. Why didn’t they seize control?’

‘There was nothing to control!’ Ares says. ‘We all saw it live on the net. It was calm.’

‘It wasn’t just calm,’ Lakshmi says. ‘It was clean too.’

‘They knew,’ Shango hisses angrily. ‘They knew the Feds were coming. Someone leaked it to them.’

‘Dear god. Are you a complete idiot?’ Ares asks. ‘The whole fleet knew they were going! Every captain had voted for it. Every news channel was running the story as it was happening. Of course they knew!’

‘The point is,’ Lakshmi says before the other side can start shouting again. ‘The point is that they were able to counter it. And that’s what I mean about not underestimating Helga, or Abdul for that matter. And it is very clear that Helga and Fei Hung-Shu have formed an alliance.’

‘They’re two ships out of the whole fleet!’ Venus says with an exasperated tone.

‘It’s not just them,’ Lakshmi says, as Hector listens on. ‘It’s the Elforists we need to think about. Look at what happened when Abdul took that shuttle out to challenge the Federal Police shuttles. Look how the other Elfor pilots responded and the whole net lit up with traffic from Elforists all over the fleet contacting each other. I own FleetNet. I have that data. They are communicating with each other now more than they have ever done. And to be completely honest, Abdul looked like a hero taking a stand against those Federal shuttles. We need to remember that Abdul is wealthy enough to choose anywhere he wants to live in this fleet. He could afford to reside on the Ab-Spa if he wished, but he willingly chose to go out against the whole fleet to protect his people. Have you any idea how that resonated, not just with Elforists but with every minority within this fleet? Every single person who sees themselves as downtrodden or oppressed will side with them. And the Elfors have become the number one trend.’

Silence as they all think until eventually Plutus – ever the worrier – breaks the quiet to ask, ‘What do we propose then?’ And Hector hides the urge to smile at the way Plutus says we to save face, while meaning what do you propose.

Lakshmi stays graceful, with a gentle tone. ‘Helga still needs agreement from the fleet to sanction her release of the Elfors. At the moment the Elforists can move freely within the Humility, but they are not allowed off ship until they gain registration, and Helga cannot register them without fleet consent and support, or at least a majority support. Let’s see what she does and respond quietly. Are we all agreed?’

‘For now,’ Venus says, then she’s gone. Blinking out of sight.

‘Likewise,’ Shango echoes before his form disappears.

‘There’s a surprise,’ Ares mutters.

‘Eh? What was that?’ Plutus asks.

‘I said let’s keep our eyes on the prize, Plutus,’ Ares says as Plutus waves a hand and blinks out of view.

Hector waits for the others to go and is mildly surprised when they don’t. Instead, Ares and Lakshmi turn to the still-silent form of the Jade Emperor.

‘It’s obvious now you’ve told me,’ Lakshmi says, motioning the now empty positions of Shango and Venus.

‘Isn’t it,’ Ares says.

Then it becomes even more surprising when the ghoulish form of the Jade Emperor ceases to be ghoulish at all and becomes the real Jade Emperor, or at least her holographic form. Late middle-aged. Petite. Smartly dressed in business attire. Hair fashioned up into a bun. The other two follow suit with Lakshmi and Ares both switching over from ghoulish to real, and Hector both sees and feels the changes taking place within the Six.

‘Ah, that’s much better,’ Lakshmi says with a warm smile. An attractive Indian woman with a caring, earnest manner and energy.

Ares nods back. Distinctly Russian. Tall and broad with Slavic features which turn to face Hector.

‘Do we have your service, Hector?’ he asks in an accented voice.

‘Hector is with us,’ the Jade Emperor says in her flat tone.

‘Good,’ Ares says with a firm nod. ‘And Petra?’

‘Petra is with us also,’ the Jade Emperor replies. ‘Plutus is becoming increasingly nervous, and I am concerned that Shango and Venus will destabilise our unity. There is a lot at stake now. We must be prepared to take action if the situation develops.’

The other two nod, showing they agree.

‘And there is also the question of revenge. Fei Hung-Shu did go against us, and that cannot be allowed,’ the Jade Emperor adds.

‘Agreed,’ the other two murmur as the Jade Emperor turns to give Hector his next set of instructions, and a few minutes later those forms blink out of view and the fleet flies on.

Forever onwards, and forever on.

25

The morning after the night before and Yasmine wakes in her sleeping tube. For a few moments, she does nothing at all except stare at the ceiling a foot or so above her.

She tries to determine how she feels after everything that’s happened over the last few days, and especially yesterday. For a start, her head bloody hurts. Not just from the big tattoo on her forehead, but also from the booze, drugs and Elfor Juice she took, which are now making her brain feel like it’s bouncing against the inside of her skull. On top of that, her legs are sore from running flat-out up forty flights of stairs, and her knuckles are hurting from Abdul’s stupid hard head.

Who, it appears, is her father.

Duh.

Obviously.

How did she not know that? She groans inwardly, shaking her head at the way she never connected it before, while wincing at the pain she’s in and the memories of Kristi and being in the Shades and the last week they spent together. Hanging out. Having fun. Laughing. Getting massages. Doing sports. Kissing.

Which are all the things she should have done with Sam.

She groans again at the fresh onset of guilt, and a hundred other things all vying for attention; loss too, because Helga said it’s over between her and Sam.

Which itself is a very odd thing to think, because Yasmine would never let someone else tell her to either do or not do something. But somehow it was okay when Helga said it was over with Sam.

Is that secretly because it means Yasmine doesn’t have to make the decision herself, which thereby lessens the overall guilt? Or is it because deep down she knows it’s the right decision because she’s very obviously got a thing for Kristi Carter?

Whom she wishes to punch repeatedly in the head while also wishing to do more kissing with. And laughing. And Wallball playing. And massaging. And wine drinking. And dancing.

Oh, the dancing was fun. Yasmine loved the dancing.

She sighs sadly and determines that she hasn’t determined anything at all – if anything, she’s now more confused than ever.

But. If she were to be painfully honest, perhaps it’s a good thing, because sure as ratshit she was not making Sam happy and, like Helga said, there’s something very magical about Sam, and the thought of being the cause of his unhappiness was becoming another great source of anguish – and, again, if she were to be truly honest, Sam also deserves to dance and kiss like she did with Kristi. But not actually with Kristi. Cos that would be weird AF. Especially seeing as Kristi went from Zhang to Yassy and would then go to Sam. Who next? Penny? Back to Zhang?

Urgh.

Gross.

That’s way too cliquey for Yasmine.

And it also makes her feel jealous thinking of Kristi with Sam. Both ways. Jealous of someone else kissing Sam and someone else kissing Kristi.

What the actual fuck does all that mean?

She doesn’t know, and so she sighs instead as the AI system finally notices she’s awake, and with a happy greeting the headlines start blooming up.

She waves them away then curses as her system automatically plays the live holo feed from FleetNewsCast’s early morning reporter Kristi Carter.

‘Seriously? Take a day off,’ Yasmine mutters as Kristi’s face comes into view, but it makes Yasmine pause and think how tired she looks.

‘Good morning, folks,’ Kristi says, her voice lower than normal. ‘Yesterday I made a mistake with a very good friend of mine. We’re human. Humans make mistakes, right? Isn’t that part of living and being alive? Isn’t that what makes us human in the first place? That we make mistakes and grow to be better? And isn’t it also human to accept the mistakes of others? And to accept that not every action is premeditated towards something bad and that sometimes we get caught up and we speak words that don’t come out the right way. Don’t we all do that? I know I do . . . And I know I will try and be better in the future. But to my friend, I am sorry. I am human. I made a mistake . . .’

Yasmine swipes it away and scurries out of the sleeping tube, a flash of something dark inside giving her the energy needed to get moving. She gets into the shower and thinks about what Kristi said and how it all makes sense.

But Yasmine stole a code for a new planet, and if that comes out then everyone dies.

Including Kristi.

She hardens her resolve while thinking about leaving the Humility and getting back to work with Sun. It’ll be good to do that and use her skills and so she washes herself, ignoring the tears rolling down her cheeks.

* * *

On Level 1 Sam wakes in his new room with his own AI greeting him as it makes coffee and brings headlines up. He looks around. Taking in the space that’s larger than his entire cabin, with an additional small separate annexe bathroom with a toilet and shower.

He frowns, thinking about Yasmine and his own home and being up here while she’s down there. He thinks about the shower he shared with Yasmine yesterday and how it went so wrong.

She seemed different but he couldn’t put his finger on why. She seemed super-confident, and he thought it would be okay. But it wasn’t and she froze up again.

Sam gets it. Yasmine went through something awful, but he doesn’t know how to help, and it makes him feel like a creep the way they start making out then she freezes as though he’s some filthy deviant.

It’s too much. Which is why he left the way he did yesterday. He was confused and upset and when he got back to Level 1, intending to go up onto the bridge, Helga intercepted him.

‘I’ve got something for you,’ she said, staring at him closely for a few seconds. Seeing his anguish and worry. She took him along the corridor to a suite of rooms used to house visiting dignitaries and presented his new private space.

‘I’ve got a cabin,’ he said.

She smiled softly and told him he could stay up here whenever he wanted.

‘But I’ve got a cabin,’ he said again, and it was like she could sense his worries, because she moved in to give him a hug and rubbed his back. He didn’t know why at first. Then he started crying. He didn’t know why he was crying either.

Except he did know, and Helga told him it would all be okay and that maybe, for now, Yasmine should have his cabin on Level 35, and he could have this one and go up on the bridge whenever he wanted and, you know, maybe some space would be good.

That was before Yasmine got stinking drunk and high on drugs and danced with Kristi in the Shades before getting her face tattooed and having more Kristi kisses and running all the way up to beat the crap out of Abdul – because Helga had already decided that Yasmine and Sam were over.

In fact, Helga was going to speak to Yasmine today anyway. But then Yasmine came up and it all worked out.

Not that Sam knew any of that. Nor did he know that Yasmine had been dancing in the Shades with Kristi. And he definitely didn’t know she was kissing Kristi Carter, or that she had her face tattooed, or that she beat Abdul up while the Level 1 staff were enjoying takeout.

No. Sam didn’t know any of that, because Sam was in his new room having a crisis of his own. And not a Yasmine crisis either.

In fact, Sam’s crisis was one of an altogether different sort.

What happened was that after Helga gave Sam some support and rubbed his back and made him some tea, she suggested he get some rest and enjoy his new space. Oh, and she’d taken the trouble to get him a few bits. You know. Clothes and whatnot. It’s all in the drawers. I hope it all fits.

Of course it fitted and Sam pottered about, testing the tube and the sofa and making a drink while trying not to think about Yasmine.

But there was another issue that Sam was very aware of – that Yasmine, who admittedly was going through a most terrible time, had taken him to the brink quite a few times in a row – and there’s only so many times a man can be taken to the brink before it starts to feel like his testicles will explode.

Which is how Sam’s testicles felt at that point.

Which was awful and terrible and most confusing because Yasmine was having a very bad time and there were too many emotions going on all over the show, as Sam told himself while pottering about and checking the new clothes out and testing the sleeping tube and the sofa and the drinks machine, and the entertainments system – which was top notch – but none of which alleviated the growing crisis of his testicles exploding.

That being literally how they felt.

That they were going to explode.

He did what he could to ignore it, and he even tried some VR gaming using the high-end set Helga had left for him. Which was awesome and occupied his mind for a little while, but those testicles. They were gonna explode.

He tried to read. He tried to work out. He tried to shower, and he tried many things, but a man’s mind sometimes locks onto a thing and won’t let go, and so, eventually, after pacing around and trying to ignore the sensation of pressure building up in his boxers, Sam decided to masturbate.

Which is fine because masturbation is a healthy thing for anyone to do. It releases tons of endorphins.

No. It wasn’t so much the masturbation that caused Sam’s crisis, it was the fact that he decided, as men sometimes do, to watch a bit of porn while masturbating.

He was desperate. He was confused. His mind was in turmoil. He needed a distraction. He needed a release.

So he double-checked, then triple-checked the door was sealed and swiped his system and navigated into privacy mode.

Which was a thing solely invented for the purposes of using porn.

And once privacy mode was activated, he dimmed the lights, quadruple-checked the door, got some tissue ready and punched into the world of Online Fleet Pornography.

That being the channel used for the watching of adult entertainment which was owned and controlled by Linda Lick-Up. Who was also the fleet’s number one adult star. And being that Sam’s balls really were going to explode he didn’t pay much attention to exactly what he was watching, and no sooner than later a nice big holo bloomed up showing Linda Lick-Up dressed in a tight black top. Her face smudged with dirt and grime. Her beautiful hair artfully tousled, and that top was super-tight. Like really very super-tight.

Which, Sam’s testicles concluded, was awesome. Especially given the fact the top was also really quite see-through.

Then Sam, while doing what men do at such times, while also shooting infrequent glances at the door for fear it would spontaneously open, also noticed that Linda was mid-scene in a weird room that looked a bit familiar. It had a counter. And the colours were of a certain shade. But he didn’t register why and instead watched as Linda, in her tight black top, gave aid to another famous adult star, that being another woman, sitting on the floor with a cut to her head.

‘Is it bad?’ the woman asked, with quivering lips and a very low-cut top of a style that kind of looked a bit like a uniform of sorts.

‘It needs dressing,’ Linda said as they both looked around for a first-aid kit, of which there were none. ‘Damn it. You’re bleeding too much!’ Linda said.

Sam didn’t think the other woman was bleeding that much at all, but whatever.

‘What are you doing?’ the injured woman then asked, seemingly aghast as Linda started tearing her own sleeve off. ‘No! You mustn’t! I’ll be okay!’ the injured woman said as though Linda were trying to cut her own limb off.

‘You’re bleeding out,’ Linda gasped and tore harder and oh no! Disaster! Because her whole top came off. Just like that. What a damn shame, Sam thought, while still doing the thing that men do, somewhat faster now that Linda was topless. ‘I’ll have to use my trousers!’ Linda said. Which, even to Sam, seemed a bit silly. Her torn-off top was right there. But holy moly she took her trousers off and the injured woman said thank you while squeezing one of Linda’s boobs.

Which, Sam figured, would be the quickest way to a busted nose, but Linda didn’t appear to mind, and in fact she helped the injured lady take her top off and they both set about thanking each other with much touching of boobs.

Which was awesome and got Sam right into the spirit of the adventure. What with them kissing and boob-touching next to the counter in that room of a certain colour, while outside through the windows there seemed to be many people shouting, as though in the middle of a protest or a big scrap.

That being the precise point that Sam’s crisis really got underway, because while Yasmine was down on Level 40 snogging Kristi, Sam was tugging his sausage and getting ready to prevent the awful medical condition known as exploding testicles, and just as he neared the point that would give such urgent medical relief, so several things happened at once.

The first was that his brain finally connected why the colours of the room Linda and her injured pal were using seemed familiar. And the counter. And the uniform of the now-naked injured pal.

That being because it was a replica of Sven’s Eatery.

And once that nugget of realisation occurred, near enough at the same time as his testicles decided to release the pressure and prevent the aforementioned explosion, he also realised the now-naked lady’s uniform was a stair guard uniform. Which then made Sam think of Helga tearing her sleeve off to bind Faiza’s head.

Which then made him realise the now-naked lady was actually pretending to be Faiza, which in turn meant that Sam was tugging his sausage to a parody of Helga Sveinsson. And specifically, Linda Lick-Up playing Helga Sveinsson in the XXX parody The Ice Queen Cometh.

And that meant Sam was masturbating to the notion of Helga, who was in here rubbing his back just a little while ago – which was at the same time as his balls erupted and the real Helga knocked on his door to ask if he wanted to join them for food.

Which was also at the same time as the real Linda Lick-Up called Sam after getting his contact details from Chi-Chi.

All of which was a bit too much for poor Sam who, while trying to deal with his venting testicles was swiping at the porn to go away while shouting NOOOOOOOOOO! to Helga outside and inadvertently swiping to answer the call from the actual Linda Lick-Up.

‘Pretty Boy! Hi. I’m Linda. Chi-Chi gave me your . . .’ she started to say, as Sam did the only thing possible and made a dive for it behind the sofa with Linda blinking at his bare backside and his trousers round his ankles before frowning and peering right to the holo-porn currently playing. ‘Oh, I loved that scene!’

Poor Sam.

What a thing to happen.

‘Sam? Are you okay?’ Helga called, having heard a shout and a thud.

He tried to say he was fine, but it came out a bit gargled.

‘Sam! I’m worried. I’ll override the door.’

Sam gibbered in panic and in that micro-second he determined he would rather face the abject humiliation of being seen willy-in-hand by Linda Lick-Up than be caught playing with his tinkle by Helga – and so he jumped up as Linda blinked and looked from her scene to Sam and then over to the door flashing red because someone was overriding it from the outside.

‘Pull up your trousers,’ Linda said calmly as Sam swiped the porn off, which only resulted in a half dozen adverts popping up with even more trailers for Linda Lick-Up in all manner of poses and states of nakedness. ‘Trousers!’ Linda ordered in such a tone that Sam duly complied and yanked his trousers up with the AI fastener sealing them shut as the door swished open and Helga strode inside.

‘Sam! I heard a . . .’ she said then stopped dead at the sight of the holo-porn and Sam looking somewhat red-faced and wide-eyed. ‘Right,’ she said slowly. ‘Anyway. Glad you’re okay!’

She started to turn away, while Sam wished there was an airlock he could jump through.

‘It’s not what it looks like, Helga,’ Linda said as Helga stopped and whipped back around.

‘Linda?’

‘Here,’ the real Linda said, waving from her holo call amid the many trailers and scenes. ‘Sam was helping me with a technical issue. Weren’t you, Sam.’

Sam nodded and shook his head and said yes and no all at the same time.

‘The pop-ups,’ Linda said with a blast of frustration while waving a hand at them. ‘I’m getting complaints that customers are being caught watching porn and can’t shut it down. I got Sam to demonstrate and told him to cut it off so he could see the pop-ups. Isn’t that right, Sam.’

Sam carried on nodding and shaking his head at the same time.

‘Oh. But hey! Big congrats on the ship, Helga! I’ve been glued to the news feeds.’

‘Thank you, Linda,’ Helga said with real meaning as she stepped in closer. ‘And it’s great to see you!’

‘You too! You’re looking well.’

‘It’s all this excitement, Linda. It does wonders for your metabolism,’ Helga said as they both laughed. ‘But yes. I can see that would be a problem,’ Helga then added with a tut and a what-can-you-do expression at the pop-ups. ‘But Sam’s the best man for the job. Got any thoughts, Sam?’ she asked as she and Linda both looked at him.

‘We did try and put a kill switch in,’ Linda said. ‘I mean. I own the channel, but I’m broadcasting on the FleetNet and they override it.’

‘I can bypass that,’ Sam said, as Linda’s face lit up.

‘See! The right man for the job,’ Helga said. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Penny will send an invoice for Sam’s work, Linda. Great to see you again. We must catch up soon!’

‘Of course!’ Linda said with a big grin as Helga went out and told Sam they were getting food and he should join them if he was hungry. Then the door sealed, and he slowly looked back to Linda with his cheeks burning in shame.

But Linda just burst out laughing, and it wasn’t a nasty mocking laugh either. It was one of delight and genuine pleasure. ‘Bless. That was such bad timing! But why did you answer?’

But Linda was lovely about it. She told him to go wash and then said to make a drink and chatted about this and that and Chi-Chi said hi and that Sam was just so sweet, all of which helped Sam relax. They even got chatting, which was very nice, and he explained why the FleetNet system was overriding her kill switch and that he could code something up that would kill all the feeds instantly.

And because of all of that, Sam had no idea Yasmine ran up the stairs and beat Abdul up after having her face tattooed. And he didn’t know about Yasmine’s breakdown either; instead, his night grew late, and he even found himself opening up to Linda.

‘My advice, Sam,’ Linda said later, ‘is that you both need some space. I think that would be healthy. Achieving sexual equilibrium is actually very hard for most couples. There’s nearly always an imbalance between needs, desires, and expectations. Communication is the key thing, but if she won’t communicate there’s really nothing you can do.’

And that was that.

But that was last night and now the new day heralds, and with it comes the confusion over Yasmine, and how he should handle it, and what he should say, and he slips back into the murky world of emotions until a knock on the door pulls him back to the now.

‘Good. You’re up,’ Helga says brightly when the door swishes back, while Sam thinks about how people still knock on doors despite all the VR and holo and AI tech about. ‘Feeling okay?’

‘I, er,’ Sam starts to say.

‘Wonderful. Come along then,’ Helga says, ushering him out of his new quarters at a cracking pace. ‘I know things are a little messed up for you, but I had a good chat with Yasmine last night. She’s going on a mission for me. Of course, that stays between us,’ she adds, giving him a stern look. ‘But I think it’ll do you good to have some space. Morning all!’ she calls as she strides past the busy offices towards the bridge door. ‘And in my experience, Sam, nothing beats throwing yourself into work to focus the mind on something else. What are you working on now? Are you still plotting the route the fleet took since we set out?’

‘I was going to—’ he starts to say, but cuts off as Helga comes to a stop at the top of the stairs leading to the bridge and waves at him to go past.

‘Great stuff! I want it done asap. I’ve put you a coffee and some pastries out. Call if you need me. And remember, Sam. It’s better to keep busy!’

She sees him off with a pat on the back then bustles down the stairs and into her office as she swipes to make a call.

It answers quickly with Yasmine’s face appearing in the holo feed. ‘Good. You’re up,’ Helga says as Yasmine goes back to applying ointment to the new tattoo on her forehead, shining under a UV light. ‘How are you feeling?’

Yasmine thinks for a second and shrugs. ‘I don’t know. Confused.’

‘You look better.’

‘I look like shit.’

‘In your eyes I mean. You’ve got a different energy. Anyway, I just spoke to Sam. He’s fine. Well. No. He’s upset like you, but I think he understands that some space will be a good thing.’

Yasmine pauses to look at her. ‘I was going to pop up and see him.’

‘Maybe leave it for now.’

‘But—’

‘What can you say that hasn’t been said?’

‘I haven’t said anything. That’s the point.’

‘Space, Yasmine. Get some space and give your mind something to focus on. And with that in mind, you and Sun are booked on the mid-morning shuttle to the Ark.’

‘What the fuck!’

‘That’s the spirit! Call me when you’re on board.’

Helga cuts the call and exhales slowly as she positions the pieces on her side of the board. Sam is safe on the bridge. Yasmine is on her way to the Ark, and Abdul is getting ready to set out on his fleet tour to gain support.

That just leaves Zhang Woo, and the thought of him makes her grimace because she’s guessing his relationship with Kristi is now over and, truthfully, she has no idea how he will take it.

‘It’s like being a damned mother,’ she mutters while swiping to make another call that goes unanswered. ‘Damn it.’ She cuts it off and tries again. Still no answer. She tries Jorgey Raynor. ‘Jorgey! All well?’

‘It was until you called.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning you only call when something’s going horribly wrong. What is it this time? Alien invasion? Or are we down to the last few minutes of air and we’ll all suffocate, which right now I’ll take as it means I’ll get some peace.’

‘Finished?’ Helga asks, getting a nod in reply. A closeness between them since they ran through the lanes together. ‘I tried calling Zhang. He’s not picking up. Have you got him busy somewhere?’

Jorgey sighs and rubs her nose. ‘He’s not come in. I think maybe Kristi dumped him. No. That’s a lie. I know Kristi dumped him.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because Zhang got blind stinking drunk and sent a message to Colin telling him he can stick his beeping job up his beeping ass because Kristi had just beeping dumped him seeing as Zhang had been beeping well beeping working every beeping hour for Colin.’

‘Seriously. Like a beeping mother.’

‘What is?’

‘I am,’ Helga says, waving a goodbye as she cuts the call and figures if you want something doing you might as well do it yourself, and so she sets off out of her office and into the elevator with Ivan and Olga, and drops down to Level 34 and walks into Row H and down to Cabin 39 where she knocks on the door.

‘Fuck off,’ a muffled voice yells from within.

Helga tuts again and opens her system to use the door hacking program Sam gave her and a second later the door swishes back and she steps inside with a grimace at the stench of body odour and stale synth booze wafting out while walking over to a topless Zhang flat out on his back on the sofa with a line of dribble leaking from his mouth, his trousers round his ankles. ‘Zhang. Get up.’

‘Said fuck off,’ he mumbles and rolls over as Helga nods for Ivan and a second later Zhang feels himself being lifted up through the air and pinned into the corner of his cabin with his eyes snapping open as he realises what’s about to happen. ‘Don’t you fucking dare!’

But Helga does dare, and the water comes on. Turned to cold, with Zhang yelping and trying to get free while Ivan holds him in place with one arm and Helga spots Olga lifting a flask of Elfor Juice to her mouth that she found on the floor. ‘No,’ Helga says, plucking it free. ‘You can’t have Elfor Juice, Olga. You know what it does to you. Honestly. I’m like a damned mother,’ she grumbles with a glance back to Zhang thrashing under the freezing spray.

She sets about rooting through his drawers for clean clothes then nods at Ivan to bring Zhang out. ‘Get dressed. We’ve got work to do.’

‘I’m sick.’

‘You’re not sick. You’re hungover. And you’re only hungover because Kristi finished with you last night.’

‘How the—’

‘I’m telepathic,’ Helga says, cutting him off while thrusting a shirt at him. ‘Ivan, get a fizzball in his mouth. His breath stinks. And get those boxers off, Zhangy. They’re soaking wet.’

‘You’ll shee my deek,’ Zhang says with a mouthful of fizzball.

‘I’ve already seen your dick. And it would never have worked with Kristi anyway,’ Helga says, handing Zhang clean boxers.

He snatches them away before pointing them back at her. ‘Don’t give me relationship advice.’

‘Fine. Get dressed.’

He gets dressed. ‘Why wouldn’t it have worked?’ he asks a few seconds later.

‘Because you’re emotionally detached, and Kristi needs someone communicative and expressive.’

‘Hey! I got loads of emotions,’ he says, as she hands him his trousers.

‘Being permanently horny isn’t an emotion, Zhang. It’s a condition. Your shoes are there.’

‘I know where my damn shoes are,’ he snaps, looking around for his shoes as Helga holds them out.

‘Now hurry up. You’ve got an apology to make.’

‘What!?’

‘To Colin for that stupid message you idiot!’

‘What message? Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh please no,’ he says, swiping his band to open up the sent messages with a sinking feeling that’s quickly replaced by righteous anger. ‘You know what. Fuck that guy. Seriously. No way am I apologising.’

‘You’re apologising, Zhang.’

‘I said no way! He’s all over me like a rash. Helga, I mean it. There is no way in this fleet I will ever apologise to Colin Fucking Sanders. Seriously. Line in the sand right there. This is my hill to die on.’

26

Fifteen minutes later Detective Zhang Woo stands with his feet slightly apart and his hands clasped smartly behind his back staring at Colin behind his desk. Silence in the air, awkward and heavy, and Zhang turns to Helga and Jorgey behind him with a look halfway between staring daggers and pleading for his life.

Helga simply lifts one eyebrow and Zhang sags and turns back with a groan. ‘Sorry for the message.’

‘Sorry for the message what?’ Colin asks evenly.

Zhang sags, ‘Sorry for the message, Commander.’ He falls silent as Colin just stares at him. ‘I was really drunk.’

‘I don’t care because the apology is not accepted. And you were on call. Expect disciplinary proceedings. Dismissed.’

‘Are you fucking shitting me?’ Zhang snaps.

‘We have rules. We have standards. You will abide by them, or you will be fired. Is any of that unclear to you?’ Colin demands, glaring at the shitshow on display in front of him. ‘Dismissed,’ he says again as Zhang thinks to fire back but swallows it down and brings his feet together with a mock salute and marches out.

He grabs a beaker of coffee and heads into his office to start work, but he’s too pumped and angry and humiliated. Kristi might have been the woman of his dreams. She sent a message late last night saying they were over. That was it. Just that. He tried calling her. She cut it off. He got drunk and horny. His addiction flared up and got so bad he called Carla Big Lips.

She was at home after finishing work. She said, ‘I don’t do that work no more, Zhangy. And anyway, I thought you were with Kristi now?’

‘I think we split up.’

‘You think you split up?’

‘She messaged me and said that.’

‘When?’

‘Like an hour ago?’

‘An hour and you’re calling around for someone to bang? Jesus, Zhangy. Get some therapy.’

She hung up and now Zhang adds that to the list of Things To Make Him Feel Even Shittier.

Which is getting really long.

Maybe he should get some therapy.

Nah.

He’ll just work harder. Cos. You know. He’s not allowed an actual day off with hardass Colin Sanders breathing down his neck. Talk about micro-managing. Talk about scrutiny. Talk about fucking motherfucker son of a fucking puta assing fucking fuck.

Whatever.

He takes his coffee out of his office, heads to a door at the end and goes through to a large empty room.

A feeling inside. Lots of feelings inside. Self-pity. Remorse. Regret. Sorrow. Loss. Anger. Confusion. Hopelessness. Lots of things. Too many things.

Which means it’s the perfect time to do this, because honestly? Right now he couldn’t feel any shittier than he already does, and so with a guttural growl he accesses the police database via his band and finds the thing he needs to see.

A second to steel himself for what’s about to happen. A second to draw air while telling himself this has to be done.

Then he swipes and the room around him instantly changes from empty and sterile to filled with colour and objects. An inflatable couch. A corner shower unit. A sleeping tube. The inside of a cabin.

Except it’s not.

It’s a perfect holographic replica of a cabin.

And not just any cabin.

It’s a perfect replica of Mahatma Goudier’s cabin, having been holographed by the attending forensic officers after her murder. Every inch. Every detail. All of it now recreated in the Police HQ Holo Suite.

And there, draped across the inflatable sofa on her back, lies Mahatma Goudier.

It takes a few seconds for the shock at seeing her again to ease. Zhang slowly looks around at the blood on the floor and walls. On the sofa. On the surfaces. He takes in the spatter pattern and slowly lets his eyes move over to the body itself and the deepest sadness he’s ever felt washes over him when he sees that her eyes are open. He even feels an urge to close them and has to remind himself it’s just a holo. It’s not real. She isn’t here.

Yet she is here. She’s right there with her beautiful face untouched.

I think I’m falling for you.

He thinks back to the night of the porridge party. She gave him a blowjob in the toilets. He was snappy and harsh with her. He thought of her as a cheap whore blackmailing her boss for a better cabin. She was shallow and vain and full of ego and pride.

But in that message she sent when she admitted she was falling in love with him she gave a glimpse of a real person full of the same insecurities as everyone else. And suddenly the blowjob in the toilets is no longer a cheap sexual thing but someone trying to please the man she’s falling in love with. Willing to do whatever it took to make him stay with her.

And he can see why her murder captured the imaginations of so many people and ultimately led the way to the Elfors being freed. A beautiful, vibrant young woman slaughtered so barbarically by deranged Elforists.

But that’s the thing – because although everyone thinks it was either Mad Eyes Ken, or Dmitri, or possibly both of them, that killed Mahatma, and both of them were capable of this level of shocking brutality – Zhang now knows it wasn’t them.

Or at least he suspects it wasn’t. Which is why he needs to do this now and study the scene. He takes a long breath and gives one final glance at her serene face and regrets so many things in his life.

Then he turns away to start work but looks back at her face. He’d thought that it was untouched, but it’s not. He can see an outline on her cheeks. He moves closer, peering at the skin and marks left by four digits.

He goes closer still, views the other side of her face, and spots the bloodied outline of a thumb.

The killer held her face with his left hand as she died. He wanted to see into her eyes as he stabbed her torso in a wild frenzy. And it was a frenzy. He looks down at the wounds. Some of them cut open, with tissue and innards spilling out and spatters of blood showing how the arteries were severed, causing the blood to spray up and out. Meaning the attacker would have been covered in it. Which is how his left hand got soaked in blood before he grabbed her face.

But there’s no sign of sexual attack. He’s already read the ME’s report stating that Mahatma had engaged in recent sexual intercourse, but from what they could tell, there were no signs of rape during the murder.

The sexual intercourse had been with Zhang. And maybe with Randolph Simpson too. But it’s also clear the attacker didn’t rape her.

He stays bent over her body, imagining himself as the attacker, and uses his left hand to hold Matty while his right hand holds an invisible knife that he starts pushing at the wounds – but something feels off.

‘Show me the replica murder weapon.’

A knife comes into view, hovering in the air. Fifteen centimetres in length. Long and narrow and wicked sharp. A stiletto blade, and Zhang figures it was a switch-knife with the blade hidden in the handle.

He takes it in his hand with the AI system projecting the position as though he can hold it, and he goes back to the attacker’s position and simulates using the knife to stab Matty. But each wound feels slightly off.

Then he notices some of the wounds have no obvious signs of blood loss at all. Which means a lot of them were done after she was killed. Her heart had stopped beating. Her blood wasn’t pumping; therefore it wasn’t coming out.

Which also strongly suggests the killer is a fucking freak because very few killers exert the effort to attack a dead body.

He stands back and thinks for a moment then swipes into the system to bring up a series of other crime scenes, each one coming to life in a row stretching along the room.

Ugly Frank. The guy stabbed on the stairwell by the perp Yasmine was chasing.

The next one is the woman Yasmine and Sun heard being stabbed on the stairwell when they gave chase, which ended up with that same perp killing Ugly Frank.

The next is Angie Putanski. Bitch-Faced Angie. The Elfor woman stabbed in the Alley in Neon City.

Then at the end is the last one. Stella Yeah Yeah hanging from a pipe in the public toilets with words carved into the wall next to her from someone using a laser cutter.

Eye For An Eye

No More Excuses

And this is why Zhang wasn’t paying attention to Kristi. This is why he became so detached and isolated.

Because he couldn’t stop thinking about these murders and how something was nagging him about them all.

Now he stands back to take in the gruesome sight. Looking from one murder to the next, and apart from the woman Yasmine and Sun saw being attacked, Zhang knows all of them.

He knew Ugly Frank. He knew Stella Yeah Yeah. He knew Bitch-Faced Angie, and he knew Mahatma Goudier.

He’d seen how they lived. They weren’t angels, apart from Stella. She was near on an angel. She didn’t do anything to anyone. Stella worked hard and looked after her kids. Thinking about Stella suffering brings a surge of rage inside that he forces back down because now isn’t the time for it.

Now is the time to be cold and clinical.

Now is the time to be a detective, and he might be a fuck-up in many ways, but Zhang is good at this.

He walks over to the crime scene of Stella Yeah Yeah to the words written on the wall, lifting his arm as though he were going to write the same thing, and his hand rests three inches above the other words.

He steps over to Bitch-Faced Angie and gets in low over her body while still holding the virtual holo knife replica from Matty’s murder. Angie didn’t have an ME examine her. The ship was nearly lost to riots. They hardly had any staff and Zhang nearly got into a fight ordering Phil the forensics guy to holo the scene. But he can see the blade of the knife is the same width as the stab wounds on her body. He even motions sliding the virtual knife in and can see the shape and angle – while also realising that, again, it feels off.

And it feels off for a reason.

He goes to the next body and knows the same blade made the same wounds, but again it feels off.

Over to Ugly Frank. Ugly Frank was stabbed while he was on his feet. He manipulates the image of the body to make it upright and goes in close as though ready to stab, and again, it feels off.

And it all feels off because each time he goes to stab one of the victims his hand is instinctively going three inches higher than the wounds inflicted.

The same height difference as the words carved in the wall.

Three inches. Which is eight centimetres.

Zhang is six-three. A hundred and ninety centimetres.

The killer was six foot. A hundred and eighty-two.

Three inches difference. Eight centimetres.

Medium build. White skinned. That’s all that Yasmine saw. But fit. The guy ran fast up and down stairs.

It was Yasmine who made Zhang stop and think. He knew something was off about all of these murders. He even told Jorgey that Stella wasn’t killed by the mob but by a single perp.

Which means Matty was too, because all of these people were killed by the same person, and when Yasmine and Zhang ran up to yell at Helga, Yassy said they were being fucked over because one person was causing this.

And this was the person.

A dark-haired, white-skinned, right-handed, six-foot male of average build who carries a stiletto blade knife.

It’s not a lot. But it’s a start.

Now all Zhang has to do is figure out how to catch the motherfucker.

And then kill him.

27

The shuttle comes in ready to dock. An ordinary passenger shuttle full of ordinary people living ordinary lives – and that’s the thing about ordinary people, because even when they try to stand out and be influencers or stars in their own eyes or loud, attention-seeking putas, they still look ordinary.

It’s a herding instinct. Hector knows that, because people, as desperate as they are to be special and unique, are also desperate to be part of the masses.

Which is where he excels, because he is the very definition of a herd creature. Six feet in height and average build with short dark hair. Dark clothes. Not black. Just dark. Dull. Boring. Plain. A banker. An accountant. A lawyer maybe. But an average one at best.

That’s what he looks like.

That’s who he is, and in the same way Yasmine sells her persona by the energy she projects when she’s stealing or doing something sneaky, so Hector Baptiste does the same when he’s in motion and around other people. He projects that boringness and, truth be told, even if the woman next to him on the flight was asked who sat next to her, the best she would come up with would be, some guy I think. Hang on. Was it a guy? Damn. I can’t remember.

Therein lies Hector’s art, and as the shuttle docks, everyone around him readying to disembark, literally none of them pay him the slightest bit of attention and he slips through the entry gate. Lost from view to anyone looking for him.

Not that anyone is looking for him. Why would they? He doesn’t exist and he never leaves a trace.

He’s not even on the manifest for this shuttle. The ticket was purchased under a fake name, and the second the shuttle docked that ticket and all record of it simply ceased to be.

He follows the crowd through the concourse. Most of them sporting colours for whatever teams of whatever sports they follow – but this is the worldship Chastity, the home of Fleet Sports, so there are a lot of teams to follow.

Ticket booths and merchandising stores greet the arriving passengers, offering passes to games and events, accommodation or courses to become an instructor in one of many different regimes.

Hector loves the Chastity. But then Hector loves sports, and if he could he’d head straight for the arenas again to watch the soccer league final underway right now. Then he’d go to the one of the gyms and get a workout in, and the Chastity has got the best running track on its Level 1, right under a big glass window giving a view of the stars. And for an extra fee – a very high fee – you can even run on a real grass track.

That, however, is not why he is here, and while Hector does love sports, he also loves his job, and specifically, he loves this part of his job.

Being able to slip through crowds unseen and up the stairwell towards the hotels, past the floors giving access to the arenas.

Up he goes. All the way and past Level 10 where awards ceremonies are held, and where he observed Captain Fei Hung-Shu holding a conference to greet the transferees into her accelerated promotion scheme for Asian officers – and he only steps off when he reaches Level 2. That being the level used to house the top politicians of the ship. Most other ships use Level 1, but the Chastity converted theirs to the running tracks.

A security door greets him with an intermittent light flashing red. He waves his band and the door opens, letting him slip inside to the Level 2 corridor, and he walks on with his head high, projecting that aura of a person who absolutely belongs in this place.

He even passes a few people who return his polite greeting and give no second thought to the stranger they just passed. But why would they? This is Level 2. The door is secured, so only people lawfully admitted could be up here. Surely.

But then Hector also knows the Fleet Soccer Champions League final is playing, which means Captain Fei Hung-Shu and the top-level officials will be in attendance.

All apart from one person that is, and Hector finally reaches the last door, lifts his band to the scanner, and the small light blinks from red to green as the door swishes back.

‘Fei? I thought you were at the game?’ a female voice calls from the bathroom. The voice of Armani Hung-Shu, Captain Fei Hung-Shu’s wife. ‘Has it been cancelled? Oh, please I hope it has! I hate soccer. They’re always bloody diving. And the fights between the fans! It’s too much. I said you should ban it . . .’

Armani chats on as Hector takes a small white packet of material from his pocket and presses a button for the baggy coveralls to expand. The legs and arms form quickly. He steps into the coveralls and activates the AI to fasten and tighten them around his body, and draws a deep steadying breath as his heart starts thudding in his chest. A rush in his ears. A glaze in his eyes. A sick lust showing clear. He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry and his hand pulling a small black handle from his pocket as he treads slowly towards the bathroom as Armani comes out and stops dead, the two of them meeting in the doorway.

Armani’s eyes going wide. Her mouth opening to say something, but no words come out. Instead, she gives a silent gasp and slowly looks down to the long thin blade pulling out of her swollen belly as the pain inside radiates out. The pain of the knife going through her and into her unborn child.

But then Fei went against the orders given to her by the Six so what did she expect? She’s only got herself to blame and the quiet man steps in to take the weight as Armani drops to the floor. Her hands on her stomach. Her eyes filling with tears that Hector stares deep into as he stabs again. Then again and again and again. The frenzy exploding within him, becoming a thing he can’t control, until his gloved hands become slick with blood and he reaches up to grasp her jaw to keep her eyes on him so he can see the exact second she dies.

And even then he keeps stabbing. Over and over. Again and again. Savage. Animalistic. Gasping. His eyes wild. His mouth gaping open.

Then it’s done and he staggers back. Breathing hard with a feeling of release and he stares down at the butchered woman and the blood and reaches out with a hand to a clean white wall that he smears in blood.

A few minutes later he steps out, the coveralls now shrunken and tucked back inside his pocket. The knife cleaned. His hair smoothed down and the sweat mopped from his brow.

He walks on, nodding to an admin worker strolling past, and slips out through the security door, heading down to the bars to watch the Champions League final on a holo feed. People cheering all around him and he spots the dignitaries’ box showing on the feed and smiles at Fei Hung-Shu chatting away to whoever is next to her as though everything in her world is just fine.

A call on his band. Audio only. No video.

He answers quickly.

‘Is it done?’ the female caller asks. The voice of a mature Chinese woman.

‘Yes,’ Hector replies.

‘Good,’ the Jade Emperor says. ‘Enjoy the game . . .’

28

On the bridge of the Humility, Sam does as Helga advised and keeps busy – but then despite feeling wretched about Yasmine, Sam is also the type to become absorbed in what he’s doing, and in many ways, especially when things aren’t going so good, that is a blessing.

He does so now and the air around him fills with holo screens and feeds. Some of them alive with reams of data scrolling by faster than a human eye can read. Vast chunks of Navi-Read being copied into his new program, because what Sam needs is not only to recreate the entire thing onto a private-use system to decipher the code that Yasmine stole, but also to see exactly where the fleet has been going since it left Earth.

Which is why he detaches one of his screens and walks away from the consoles, because his new program needs a bit of space. ‘Let’s see if you work shall we,’ he murmurs, as the air in front of him begins to fill with small round objects turning slowly as Earth’s solar system is recreated on the bridge.

The sun a burning ball of fire. Mercury nearest to it. Venus next. Then Earth. Gloriously green and blue. The birthplace of humanity. Mars next and then the rest, with the gas giant Jupiter dwarfing all else, apart from the sun itself which, as Sam knows, took up ninety-eight per cent of their sun system.

Then he gets them all into place with the planets sliding off into their orbits around the sun, in the positions they would have been at the time the meteor struck Earth, and that too takes the form of a smaller chunk of spinning rock.

And then, slightly off to one side of Earth, fifty bright white dots shine into existence, each one representing a worldship and collectively taken to represent the fleet. But given the scale of the planets and the sun the white dots soon disappear from view, simply too tiny to be seen.

Sam magnifies the view of Earth and zooms in until he can see the moon then the meteor and then the fifty white dots as the whole image spins into motion.

Earth spinning on its axis with the moon and the worldships orbiting around it because this is space, and nothing is ever stationary. Every single object in the universe is in motion all of the time, pulled by gravitational forces.

The sun itself isn’t stationary – which still amazes people when they learn that fact. The sun is moving all the time at over two hundred kilometres a second. Speeding through space with her planets and their moons and their satellites all locked into orbits around one another. And that means the Sun is being pulled towards something even bigger. And that thing, whatever that may be, would also have been in motion.

Everything is. All the time and since time began.

Which is what makes this so mindbogglingly awesome while being really bloody confusing.

But it’s there. He’s nailed it. Earth and the fleet all in situ and matching the data from Navi-Read.

Then he speeds it forward and watches the meteor almost slamming into the Earth and only then do the fifty white dots start to move. They left it to the very last minute, but Sam can understand that. The willpower needed to set off into space away from the planet that gave birth to all life must have been huge.

And there they go. Those fifty white dots setting off. Gathering distance and he winces when the ships of the Virtue fleet collide and three of the dots blink out, millions of lives snuffed out while the rest of the fleet keeps going.

But what else could they do? It’s not the sea. Those people weren’t lost in an ocean waiting to be picked up – they were effectively dead the second their walls were breached.

He shakes his head to rid these thoughts and watches the fleet zoom off and away from Earth, gathering greater distance as the meteor strikes and chunks of planet rip out to spin into their own orbits. But by then the fleet was, thankfully, too far away to be impacted.

Then he zooms further out and realises that, in the grand scheme of space, the fleet hadn’t really moved at all; it was still right next to the Earth.

But it was gathering speed, and with every passing second it moved faster and faster and got further away and all those seconds formed hours and days and weeks and months until one hundred and twenty years went by.

Except Sam hasn’t quite programmed that far ahead yet and instead, enthralled, he plays with the zoom and magnification and watches the fleet navigating away from Earth.

The Earth left behind represented by a blue and green sphere, and the route taken by the fleet represented by a shimmering golden trail. He was going to use a plain red line, but that was boring – a golden trail was way more exciting. It looks good too and he can’t help but smile as he zooms in and spots the fleet changing course with a tiny deviation and he gives a whoop, punching the air and doing a dance because it’s working.

He can see exactly where they have been and can see every single deviation and course alteration from the codes released by the Ark and fed into Navi-Read and then nicked by him and stuffed into this system being powered by the Humility’s own mainframe.

Nerd heaven right there.

Except for one problem.

None of it is right.

And he stands back with a glint in his eye as a second line appears in the air from the point of the fleet’s departure.

A boring plain red line.

But it stands out stark and obvious against the shimmering golden trail left by the fleet, and that red line stays glued to the golden line. Sam walks slowly beside it. Watching it. Studying it. Absorbing it with every ounce of his being without a single thought about Yasmine or anyone else.

Just that red line.

The red line that follows the exact same route as the golden line. The golden line trailing behind the fleet. The golden line representing the direction as given by Navi-Read.

Which matches the red line.

Right up until this point here where the two lines separate and this time Sam does not whoop or cheer, and if Yasmine were to walk onto the bridge right now, she would once more see a man who does not look like her smiling, soft Sam. She would see his face becoming chiselled and hard and his eyes glaring as he watches the red line move away from the golden line. Just a tiny gap between them, but this is space, and a tiny gap now means a fucking huge gap later.

And he watches as it happens, as that red line deviates and starts to head off in an entirely different direction, and Sam feels a whump inside his chest at what this means.

Because the golden line shows the course as given by the navigational codes released by the Ark, which delineates every deviation.

Or at least that’s what they said it did.

Which was why Sam started copying the program over, during which time Abdul and Sven took the shuttle they’d impounded and tried to pick a fight with a bunch of Federal Police vessels.

Which, Sam has to admit, was very cool.

But Sven also kept shouting for Sam to wipe the transponder so they could start the engine and gain control without everyone seeing they’d nicked the shuttle that brought them all back from the Beijing. That being the shuttle the bad guys hacked and let spin out of control, until Sam counter-hacked and got that control back.

But it was the transponder that made Sam stop and think. Because all the ships have them. And that, in turn, made him think about the Humility and how Helga gave him access to the Humility’s mainframe, most of which was now dormant, because the Ark controlled everything. It organised waste and air and water.

And the Ark navigated and controlled speed and trajectory.

But the Humility’s mainframe, see. It was still there, and it was still on, running quietly away in the background for one hundred and twenty years.

Recording everything. Every deviation. Every change in course and speed. Every alteration.

And from that mainframe Sam took that data and replicated it into a second private-use Navi-Read system.

The first one of which, the golden shimmering line, now shows the route the fleet took as told by the Ark.

And the second one shows the real route they’ve been taking, as per the boring plain red line.

Which is not the same as the first.

Which means they are not going where the Ark said they were going.

Which means the whole of Navi-Read is more than a lie.

It’s a fucking conspiracy.

29

‘Finally,’ Helga says as she steps out of the elevator back on Level 1. Yasmine is sorted and will be with Sun at the docking port ready to board soon. Sam is safely upstairs working away, and Zhang was dragged from his cabin to work. That just leaves Kristi to monitor in case there’s any fallout from the Yasmine-kissing situation.

She strides into the large, new open-plan office filled with aides and admin staff floating on hover-chairs, and heads over to the breakfast table to snaffle a pastry and set the machine to pour her first coffee of the day.

‘Captain, we’re still getting pressure to run new elections,’ Penny says, heading over with a virtual clipboard.

‘We’ll run elections for councillors, but not for the top roles,’ Helga says, taking the beaker from the machine. ‘Start looking ahead to a date in around three months. We’ll get some announcements made later. But I want Elforists running for the Elfor Levels. One for each Level, and two for Neon City, one for the residential quarters and one for the businesses.’

‘Ferdy’s going to run for the business councillor in Neon,’ Penny says.

‘No. I want Ferdy as our new business minister. He can oversee the retail zone and Neon City.’

‘What about Dom Patel?’ Penny asks. ‘He’s the retail zone councillor.’

‘Dom Patel is lucky he’s not being sent to prison, or worse, pushed out of an airlock,’ Helga says before biting into a pastry. ‘He was in that eatery watching that gang attack Yassy and Sun. Fuck him.’

‘Fuck who?’ Abdul asks. ‘And that language is not becoming of a captain, Captain.’

‘You’re a bad influence on me, Abdul. And I meant Dom Patel. I was telling Penny I want Ferdy to take over as our business minister.’

‘Dom won’t like that,’ Abdul says with a vicious grin. ‘Can I tell him?’

‘And we still need a new head for the Fleet Finance offices,’ Penny cuts in. ‘Randolph Simpson was never replaced.’

‘Janey!’ Helga calls while covering her mouth to prevent pastry flying out. ‘Organise and run interviews for a new Fleet Finance office manager.’

‘Wow. Seriously?’ Janey asks in delight at the thought of being able to interview all the people who bullied her and made her life hell.

‘Actually. You’re our new finance minister. Congratulations. Did Erik send these pastries up? They’re delicious. I might have another.’

‘Oh. My. God,’ Janey says as the aides and admin workers rush over to congratulate her.

‘I’m on my third already,’ Penny says, taking another one from the basket. ‘How’s it looking on the Sam, Yassy, Zhang front?’

‘Messy,’ Helga says, rolling her eyes at Abdul’s bruised and swollen face. But he just shrugs it off. He’s had worse plenty of times before, and it was always going to happen when she found out.

‘It was always going to happen,’ Penny says, voicing all of their thoughts.

‘But. I think it’s calmed for now,’ Helga adds a second later. ‘Which means we can get ourselves organised and start planning things properly. Arrange a meeting in the big conference room for midday, Penny. Make sure all of the councillors attend so we can tell them we’re planning new elections, and that Ferdy is taking over from Dom with immediate effect. Then we’ll go over where we’re at and set our next priorities.’

‘On it,’ Penny says as Helga takes the last mouthful of warm fresh synth pastry made by Erik the Rolls and smiles at the sight of Janey crying happy tears at being made the new finance minister, calling Sven while others gather around her. Smiling and laughing and sharing her joy. Penny eating a roll and tapping at her clipboard to send a memo out requesting attendance at the meeting. Abdul drinking coffee. Sam upstairs. Yassy on her way to the Ark with Sun. Zhang at work.

A moment of calm. A moment of order.

But only a moment, and the calls come in nearly at the same time. The first one from Zhang.

‘Zhang?’ Helga asks, frowning at him calling her directly.

‘I got the puta! I’m onto him.’

‘Who?’ Helga asks.

‘The murderer! I’m gonna nail him! We need to talk. Urgently.’

‘Hang on, Zhang. Sam’s calling me. Wait there. Hi, Sam! Are you okay?’

‘You need to see this!’ Sam blurts into the call. ‘They lied. They literally lied about the whole thing!’

‘I knew it!’ Zhang says in the other call. ‘I knew those murders were linked.’

‘Damn! I’m getting another call,’ Helga says as her band vibrates, and she detaches Zhang and Sam’s calls to send over to Penny and swipes to answer the next one, frowning again at seeing who it is.

‘Good morning, Fei. This is a pleasure. How are you?’

‘They fucking killed her!’ Fei snaps into the call. Her eyes wide. Her face a mask of pure anguish that brings the office to silence.

‘Not now,’ Helga orders, nodding for Penny and Abdul to follow as she rushes out and over to the bridge and up to see Sam still on the call surrounded by holographic planets and stars and white dots and two thick lines stretching in the air from one end of the bridge to the other.

‘They lied!’ he says quickly, pointing at the lines. ‘The whole thing is a lie!’

‘Not now, Sam,’ Helga says, putting a hand up.

‘Who’s been killed?’ Zhang asks, peering into the call. ‘Penny? What’s going on?’

‘I don’t know. Hang on,’ Penny says as Helga brings the call back up from Fei Hung-Shu.

‘Fei. What’s happened?’ Helga asks.

Fei falters. Her face ashen and drained. Her features stricken with shock and grief, and she brings a hand up to smooth a hair away from her eyes and smears blood over her forehead.

‘Fei! What’s happened?’ Helga asks again. Her tone urgent and pressing.

‘My wife, Helga. They killed my wife and my son.’

The feed twists, showing a snapshot of the view behind Fei. A bloodied corpse on the floor between the main room and the bathroom. Torn apart and dead. A second, much smaller corpse, dumped at the side. The body of an unborn baby ripped from a womb.

Penny gasps and the air becomes charged in an instant as the feed twists back to Fei looking almost drunk with shock. Swaying on the spot.

‘Sit down, Fei.’

‘They killed them, Helga.’

‘Fei! Sit down,’ Helga orders as Fei nods dumbly and slumps down into a chair. Her eyes glazed over. The shock robbing her of any thought as Helga swallows and thinks fast.

‘Zhang! Get up here. Bring Jorgey and Colin.’ Helga snaps out orders as Zhang disappears from the call. ‘Pen, call Yassy. She’s about to board the shuttle to the Ark. Tell her to stand by. Quickly now!’

‘We need to contain that,’ Abdul says quietly, off to one side.

‘Contain what?’ Fei whispers, looking confused as Abdul steps into view.

‘Fei. Have you called anyone yet?’ he asks.

She shakes her head slowly. ‘I was at the soccer finals. Armani couldn’t go. The doctor said she should stay home as she was due. She was making jokes that she hated soccer, but she loves it. I’m the one that hates it.’

‘Fei,’ Abdul says softly, cutting over her. ‘Who have you called?’

‘Called?’

‘Did you call anyone else before Helga?’

Fei shakes her head. ‘The baby’s dead. They stabbed him. A boy . . . We were having a boy.’

‘Have we got anyone on the Chastity we trust?’ Abdul asks, looking from Helga to Penny as Penny makes the call to Yasmine.

‘Yassy! Where are you?’ Penny asks as the feed blooms up showing Yasmine and Sun taking seats on the shuttle. ‘No! Get off. Don’t go.’

‘Okay! Hang on,’ Yasmine says, sharing a shrug with Sun as they shuffle out of their seats and down the aisle to get through the crowds still boarding.

‘We cannot let that get out,’ Abdul whispers to Helga, as Penny glances over with a wince at Fei’s vacant expression. Her hands dripping with blood.

‘Okay, we’re out,’ Yasmine says, striding fast through the concourse with Sun. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Stand by,’ Penny says. ‘Yassy and Sun are off,’ she calls to the others.

‘You must know people on the Chastity?’ Helga says, looking at Abdul. ‘I know plenty, but not for this.’

‘I’m thinking,’ Abdul says, frowning with thought. ‘Yassy! We need a safe contact on the Chastity,’ he calls out motioning for Penny to bring the call over.

‘What for?’ Yasmine asks, seeing the bridge through the call and the air streaked with golden and red lines and Sam and Helga and Abdul on another call to Captain Fei Hung-Shu sitting morose on a chair.

‘Fei, I need you to twist the feed,’ Helga says softly and Fei does it. Moving the angle to show her murdered wife as Yasmine peers in closer, both she and Sun gasping.

‘Oh fuck,’ Yasmine says, covering her mouth.

‘We can’t let that get out,’ Abdul whispers as Yasmine nods fast.

‘Er yeah . . . Tatiana’s over there.’

‘Tidy Tatty!’ Penny says. ‘She’s good. She’s a nurse.’

‘Can we trust her?’ Helga asks.

‘She birthed us,’ Penny says, nodding at Yasmine. ‘She’s a midwife but she met a guy in Neon and moved over to the Chastity.’

‘What’s going on?’ Jorgey calls while running up the stairs with Zhang and Colin. Clara, Boris and Pasha behind them. ‘I brought back up! Zhang said someone’s been killed.’

They spill out with Clara, Boris and Pash clutching voltage sticks. Zhang and Colin with Taser pistols gripped and ready.

‘Not here,’ Helga says as they run over, Jorgey snatching a look at the feed with a cry and a flinch at the sight of the bodies lying behind Fei Hung-Shu.

‘The Chastity?’ Zhang asks, getting nods from the others as he peers in to read the scene. ‘That’s him,’ he whispers.

‘We’re coming up!’ Yasmine calls, setting off with Sun with the feed still open so they can listen.

‘I need to be there,’ Zhang says. ‘Don’t let anyone touch that scene. Are the local PD on their way up?’

‘Zhang, stop! Slow down,’ Jorgey orders. ‘What’s happening?’

‘I’ve linked the murders. It’s the same perp.’

‘What murders?’ Colin asks.

Zhang takes a breath. Forcing himself to slow down. ‘Mahatma. Stella. Ugly Frank. The Humility stairwell woman and Angie Putanski were all killed by the same perp. And that’s his work. I know it is. I need to be there. That’s recent.’

A second to think before Helga speaks out. ‘Who was that person Yasmine mentioned?’ she asks Abdul. ‘Tatiana?’

‘Tatty,’ Abdul nods, leaning into the call. ‘Fei. Listen to me. You can’t call anyone. I’m sending help to you. Fei. Look at me.’

Fei lifts her head, her vacant eyes staring.

‘Stay on the line. You’ll need to give her access through the security doors,’ Abdul says. ‘Penny? Have you called her?’

‘I think Yassy’s doing it.’

‘I’m on it!’ Yasmine yells, running up the stairs as she makes the call to a stern-faced Russian woman glaring into the feed. ‘Tatty!’

‘Yasmine? Is you? Wow. You grow. You look like Abdul.’

‘Don’t even go there. Are you still on the Chastity?’

‘Da. I here many years, but I see Elfor things happen. I am Elfor. I feel stirring in my heart. I think maybe I come home, da?’

‘We need your help now, Tatty. Private help. For the cause.’

Tatty nods, leaning in and looking earnest. ‘I do this. What you need?’

‘Level 1. Captain Fei’s wife has been killed. We’re dealing with it, but she needs help. We can’t use your cops.’

Tatiana doesn’t blink but stands up and starts walking. ‘I go now.’

‘Tatty’s on her way,’ Yasmine says.

‘I need to be there!’ Zhang says.

‘Wait!’ Helga snaps at him. ‘We’ve got an asset en route. We need to think, Zhang.’

‘Tatty’s a nurse. What if the perp is nearby?’ Zhang asks.

‘We can’t use the local PD,’ Abdul says.

‘No. Okay. Shush. I know someone,’ Zhang says, holding a hand up to think. ‘Constable Po Lee? The cop from the Beijing you put on Fei’s promotion scheme.’

‘Is she safe?’ Helga asks.

‘She’s good. I vouch. We can use her. She’s over there now and she’s a cop, she’ll be armed.’

A gamble. A risk. But they have to use what assets they have. Helga nods. ‘Get her up there.’

‘On it,’ Zhang says, turning away to make the call.

‘Well, well! Look who’s calling!’ Po says with a huge grin when she answers. ‘How’s life, future hubby that was never to be?’

‘Po. I need you!’

‘Why? What’s happened?’ she asks, seeing his grim expression. She listens intently, showing shock but staying quiet until the end. ‘Zhang, I can’t just deploy. I need authority.’

‘Constable Lee,’ Jorgey calls, making Zhang twist the feed.

‘It’s Sergeant Lee,’ Po says, tapping the stripes on her arm.

‘Sergeant Lee. I’m Jorgey Raynor. Chief of Police for the Humility. For reasons of fleet security we cannot involve your PD at this stage. But we need assistance. I grant you authority and I will take the flak from your chief.’

‘I’ll take the flak and you have my authority,’ Helga calls.

‘Roger that. On my way,’ Po says, setting off as the call cuts out.

‘Fei. We’ve got two assets en route to you,’ Abdul says into the feed, as Yasmine and Sun rush onto the bridge and get a quick update from Penny.

‘Okay,’ Yasmine nods, breathing hard. ‘Any idea who did it?’

‘I got a lead,’ Zhang says. ‘Same guy that killed Matty, Ugly Frank, Bitch-Faced Angie, and probably a whole bunch more.’

‘Who?’ Yasmine asks.

‘No name. Six feet in height. Dark hair. Medium build. White male. Right-handed. He’s fit too. This guy can run.’

‘I know. We chased him,’ Yasmine says as Sun nods, remembering that day.

‘Sam, can you do that thing again?’ Jorgey calls to him. ‘Run the pings and see who he is.’

‘You said running pings was a one-off,’ Colin says.

‘He just knifed a pregnant woman and her unborn son to death, and he’s killing people on my ship. We’re having this puta,’ Jorgey snaps. ‘Sam. Do what you can? We’ve got multiple scenes. Track his band.’

‘What about this?’ Sam starts to say, pointing up at the shimmering lines and the red line and fifty white dots, but they all turn away, too caught up in the moment to listen.

‘Is that muted?’ Yasmine asks, nodding at Fei’s feed as Helga swipes to kill the audio.

‘It is now,’ Helga says.

‘We need to strike back,’ Yasmine says quickly. ‘We need to hit back at them.’

‘Let’s get this sorted first,’ Abdul says. ‘We can plan that after.’

‘No! Look!’ Yasmine snaps, taking the feed to enlarge the view behind Fei. ‘Fucking look!’ she says again, pointing at the bloody smear on the wall left by Hector. Red and clear. Awful and obvious. A dripping symbol left behind. One single number.

30

‘You see that? That’s a fucking taunt.’

‘Yassy, not now,’ Penny says.

‘Yes now!’ Yasmine says angrily. ‘Fei took your side, Helga. She went against them and stood up for us.’

‘I know that, Yasmine,’ Helga says with forced patience. ‘But who exactly do you wish to exact revenge upon?’

‘Them! We kill one of them,’ Yasmine says as the energy in the room charges. ‘Zhang just said it. They’ve killed our friends! They’ve killed Fei’s wife and unborn baby. We have to fight back. Don’t be fucking weak, Helga.’

‘Watch your tongue!’ Jorgey snaps as Yasmine ignores her and glares hard at Helga. At the woman who held her last night while she wept and puked. While she sobbed and wanted to die. But that was another Yasmine, and this is Wild Yassy. Crazy Yassy. And the ink glows on her forehead as Sam watches on, wondering when the hell she got her face tattooed.

‘She’s right,’ Abdul says darkly a second later. Nodding at Yasmine then looking at Helga. ‘It’s time to strike back.’ Murmurs from the others. Clara, Boris and Pash all nodding. Zhang in it. Penny the same.

‘Who?’ Helga asks pointedly.

‘One of the Six,’ Yasmine says. ‘I’ll do it. I swear to god I will fucking kill that puta.’

‘We don’t know who they are!?’ Helga fires back.

‘You must know! Abdul?’ Yasmine asks.

‘Nope,’ he says, shaking his head.

‘They’re the Six, Yasmine,’ Sam says, making everyone look at him. ‘You don’t find the Six. They own the net. They own our messaging services. They own everything.’

‘But you can find them, right?’ Yasmine asks, staring at the man she thought she fell in love with.

‘I could try, but it won’t be easy. Even for me it’ll take time.’

‘How much time?’ she asks.

He shrugs – in truth, even he wouldn’t know where to start. ‘Weeks. Maybe months.’

‘Fuck,’ she whispers, feeling the frustration surge up inside. ‘FUCK! Somebody must fucking know. We only need one of them. I’ll make the fucker tell us who the others are.’

Silence.

Nobody knows.

They’re the Six.

They control everything.

The control the media.

Sam frowns. Cocking his head over, because the Six do control the media, which means by their very nature the Six own the nosiest people in the fleet and one thought leads to another as he suddenly looks up. ‘Kristi might know.’

Yasmine winces. Zhang too. Helga does the same. Even Abdul purses his lips.

But Sam is right. They can all see it, because out of everyone they know, Kristi Carter is probably the only person who would have any inkling as to who they might be.

Sam spots the looks and nuances going around without a clue what they mean. ‘I think Yasmine’s made friends with her. She could ask?’ he says as Yasmine winces again.

‘She won’t tell us unless we bring her in,’ Abdul says to the charged silence. ‘I think we’ve all exhausted any goodwill we had with Kristi. I’m telling you now. If we ask her, then we have to share.’

Helga looks back at Fei as Yasmine gets a message.

‘Tatty’s at the Level 1 security door,’ she says as Helga brings the audio back to tell Fei to let Tatty in, and they all watch as a moment or two later, Fei’s door swishes back and a tall, broad, stern-faced, late middle-aged woman strides in, who rushes over to the bodies and checks both before shaking her head sadly. Then she moves to Fei, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as Fei finally crumples and turns to bury herself in Tatty’s chest. Sobbing hard as Tatty holds her close.

‘I have this now. Is good,’ she whispers into the feed.

‘Po’s coming in,’ Zhang says, seeing Sergeant Po Lee enter the room, Taser pistol in hand. Taking in the scene. Balking at the murders. At the blood. Seeing the dead bodies and then going back to the main door. Sealing it off. Assets in place.

But the sight does something to Helga. It ignites something inside. The same rage that Yasmine feels. That they all feel. That they must fight back. It has to be that way.

‘An eye for an eye,’ she murmurs and swipes her band to make a call. Kristi Carter’s face blooms up. ‘You want in, Kristi?’ she asks without preamble.

‘What?’

‘Do you want in?’ Helga snaps, her cold blue eyes hard and glaring. Something in her tone. In her manner. In her aura.

Kristi nods once. ‘Yes,’ she says without hesitation.

‘Level 1. Now.’

Helga cuts the call and knows they just took the biggest gamble so far. The biggest risk, and if this comes out, then everybody dies.

But if they don’t, then they’ll get slowly picked off anyway.

So fuck it.

It’s time to fight back.

31

The call cuts out leaving Kristi Carter stunned to the core and for a second, she doubts that it even happened.

She checks her call log and there it is. Helga’s contact as the most recent incoming call.

She bursts into action, shoving her feet into her shoes while pulling her hair back and rooting through her hotel cabin to find a clean shirt. She tugs it on with the AI fastener sealing the front as she rushes out of the cabin and starts jogging to the stairwell while a warning klaxon sounds in her head because this could be a trap.

But Kristi’s given too much already to whatever is going on. It’s eating her alive. It’s destroying her life. She has to know. No matter what the cost.

She reaches the Level 1 door; it slides back with Penny on the other side looking grim-faced and shocked.

She motions for Kristi to follow her along the Level 1 corridor to a thick door at the far end. A bulkhead door.

‘Hang on,’ Kristi says, fear creeping up her spine when she realises where they might be going. But still Penny doesn’t reply, and the door opens, showing a staircase. The breath in Kristi’s throat catches and her heart thuds as Penny goes up. ‘The bridges are sealed off . . . Penny? Penny! Nobody is allowed on a bridge.’

But again, Penny doesn’t reply, and Kristi follows her up onto the bridge and flinches at the sight of the fleet through the windows, those reactions visible on her face as she turns to take everything else in.

Lights in the air. Holographic images. Planets at the far end. The Sun. Earth. A golden shimmering line next to a red one that splits off with both lines leading to scores of white glowing dots. Sam beneath it. Pretty Boy. But he looks older. Leaner.

She takes in the screens floating near him and blinks at the many people staring back at her. ‘Oh look, the gang’s all here,’ she says with more venom than she intended at the sight of Helga sitting in the captain’s chair, Abdul at her side. A live holo call between them. Someone crying and being held. She spots Clara, Boris and Pasha, all clutching voltage sticks. Colin and Jorgey. Then a stab at seeing Zhang, then another at seeing Yasmine next to Sun.

‘What is this?’ Kristi asks. Her guard up, but her curiosity screaming inside, because this is it. This, right here, is whatever is going on. She’s about to be told, and from the look on their faces, it ain’t gonna be pretty.

‘We need something from you,’ Helga says evenly. ‘And in return you’ll know what’s happening.’

Kristi stares beyond her to the holographic representations in the air. Narrowing her eyes. Working out what it means. Seeing lines of data scrolling through the screens near Sam. Seeing the two sets of fifty glowing dots inching along with tiny deviations as they seem to fly through space.

Fuck.

It’s the fleet.

It’s the route the fleet has been taking.

But there’s two lines. One golden. One red.

‘Which one are we?’ she asks, nodding at them.

‘Not now, Kristi,’ Helga says.

‘Which one?’ she asks, her voice harder, louder. The air crackling with tension as everyone turns to look at Sam.

‘The golden line is the route they said we’ve taken,’ he says. ‘The red one is the one we’ve really taken.’

Kristi frowns. Understanding the simplicity of the answer but struggling with the concept of what it means. ‘They?’ she asks. ‘They who? Who said we’ve been taking that route?’

‘Kristi,’ Helga says as Kristi lifts a hand, holding a finger up.

‘You want my help. You let me ask questions.’

‘We don’t have fucking time for this,’ Yasmine snaps.

‘They who?’ Kristi demands.

‘Kristi!’

‘Fuck you, Yassy! I asked you. I fucking begged you!’ she snaps, taking a step forward.

‘People are dead, Kristi!’ Yasmine fires as she steps out, the two once more face to face. Both of them glaring and angry. ‘People are being fucking murdered. Who are the Six?’

‘What?’

‘The Six! Who are they?’

‘What Six? Six what? What is this?’

‘FUCK ME! You need to listen!’

‘No! No . . . You need to stop fucking swearing at everyone, Yassy. I was on your side! I said that.’

Yasmine readies to shout back but something cuts her off as she looks into Kristi’s blue eyes and the mouth that she kissed, as the energy gets weird and different.

‘Hey. Whoa. What the fuck was that?’ Zhang asks, shaking his head as they both look at him. ‘What just happened?’

‘What?’ they both ask.

‘What? What was that? Am I missing something?’

‘Not now, Zhang,’ Helga says. ‘Kristi—’

‘No. Hey. Whoa,’ Zhang says as he spots the looks between Kristi and Yasmine and how they both look at Sam. ‘What the fuck? Why are you both looking at Sam?’

‘What?’ Sam asks.

‘What?’ Yasmine and Kristi ask.

‘What the—’ Zhang says, trying to read the weird looks and guilty signals.

‘Zhang, it’s nothing,’ Yasmine says, desperate not to do this here.

‘It’s obviously something. Kristi ran off last night and then dumped me and—’

‘Jesus. It was just a kiss!’ Kristi says.

‘What!?’ Zhang asks.

‘What?’ Sam asks.

‘Whoa,’ Boris says.

‘You kissed Sam?’ Zhang asks in shock.

‘What?’ Kristi asks.

‘Whoa,’ Boris says.

‘Don’t look at me. I was with Linda Lick-Up last night,’ Sam says.

‘What!?’ Yasmine asks.

‘No! Not Sam. Yasmine,’ Kristi says.

‘What?’ Sam, Zhang and a few other people all ask.

‘Whoa,’ Boris says.

‘What the shit. You kissed Kristi?’ Sun asks Yasmine. ‘Wow. That’s gangster. High-five on that.’

‘What? No!’ Yasmine says. ‘Stop it. Everyone just fucking shush. Kristi, who do we kill?’

‘Kill? What the hell are you on about?’ Kristi asks.

‘You kissed Kristi?’ Sam asks, staring at Yasmine.

‘You spent the night with Linda Lick-Up apparently!’

‘Yeah, but I was only masturbating!’

‘What the actual fuck!?’ Yasmine says as even Kristi double-takes while Boris looks at Sam in awe and Helga realises she did see what she thought she saw, before slipping a shoe off, trying to assess who to throw it at.

‘Yasmine,’ lots of people say as the shoe gets launched.

‘Ow! Why me? He was bloody wanking on a porn star!’

‘Next to. Not on,’ Sam says pointedly. ‘And she was dressed like Helga, so it doesn’t count,’ he adds while wishing he hadn’t as every head turns to look at him.

‘The Ice Queen Cometh. That’s a good one,’ Boris says as Clara grabs the shoe from Yasmine and attacks Boris with it.

‘Stop!’ Kristi snaps. ‘Please. I’m losing my mind here.’

‘We lost ours weeks ago,’ Penny mutters. ‘There’s a new planet, Kristi. Yasmine stole a navigational code to a new planet, but it was hidden in some crypto-bonds.’

‘I knew it was more than a crypto!’ Kristi says, turning to glare at Yasmine.

‘But,’ Penny continues, ‘Dmitri got involved and he chased after Yassy to the Beijing so we all got in a big fight and Dmitri and Mad Eyes got killed and then some freaky twat called Osmosis did some weird shit, but I think Carla Big Lips shoved a voltage stick up his backside.’

‘Oh! Speaking of which, Mr Fucking Innocent,’ Kristi cuts in as she turns on Zhang. ‘Who did you call last night for a quickie?’

‘What? Hey. Come on. I’m an addict,’ he says as Kristi takes the shoe to throw at him.

‘Then,’ Penny says when Kristi turns back to her. ‘Somehow Pierre got involved on the side of the Six cos we later realised it was their code Yasmine stole, and Helga had to free the Elfors and rally them so we had an army so the Six wouldn’t kill us all. But some other man killed lots of people. Friends of ours. People we knew. Stella Yeah Yeah, and Ugly Frank, and Angie. And he killed Mahatma.’

‘And now he’s killed Fei Hung-Shu’s pregnant wife,’ Helga cuts in as the charged silence returns.

‘Armani?’ Kristi whispers in horror.

Helga nods. ‘Stabbed in her cabin,’ she says, turning the feed to show Kristi the sight behind Tatty and Fei.

‘Oh my god,’ Kristi says with an expression of horror.

‘These are bad people, Kristi,’ Helga says. ‘I couldn’t tell you what was happening.’

‘That’s why I warned you off,’ Yasmine says.

‘And if this gets out,’ Helga says. ‘If people learn about a new planet before we get control then this fleet will tear itself apart. Which is what we’re desperately trying to prevent.’

Kristi pulls back, trying to take it all in. ‘And the routes? What does that mean?’ she asks, looking back to the golden and red lines.

‘We just found that out,’ Helga admits.

‘The Six made up a thing called Navi-Read,’ Sam says.

‘I know what Navi-Read is,’ Kristi says.

‘It’s not real. It’s all lies. Every code they released from this point isn’t real,’ he says, going back to the point where the two lines diverge.

‘How do you know that, Sam?’ Kristi asks.

‘The transponder on the Humility mainframe was never switched off when the Ark took over navigation for the fleet. It’s been recording our route.’

‘So we could be anywhere?’ Kristi asks. ‘And there’s a planet? Where? How far away?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ Sam says. ‘The point where we diverged was only ten years after we set off,’ he adds, pointing to where the golden and red lines separate. ‘I’ve still got a hundred and ten years of travelling to compute.’

‘That’s all we know, Kristi,’ Helga says, holding her hands up in a show of honesty.

‘That’s it,’ Yasmine says as the others nod. Colin, Jorgey, and Zhang too.

‘We ain’t hiding nothing else, sweetie,’ Clara says. ‘The only other thing is the Captain said the Six crashed the three Virtue ships together when the fleet set off.’

‘They didn’t have the control they wanted,’ Helga says when Kristi looks at her. ‘The Virtue fleet challenged them, so they took us out.’

Kristi blinks then slowly nods. Knowing there were always rumours and conspiracy theories. ‘Have you got proof?’

‘Of course not,’ Helga says. ‘But Pierre told me they also caused the shuttle crash twenty-five years ago to stop the growing support to free the Elfors.’

Kristi nods again, her mind running like the clappers.

‘I still don’t get why they would do that,’ Yasmine says.

‘Smoke and mirrors,’ Kristi murmurs.

‘Smoke and mirrors,’ Helga echoes the words sadly. ‘The Elfor crisis provides a ready distraction. Earth used things like it all the time. North Korea. Russia. The Middle East. Iran. And those countries, in turn, did the same thing and blamed all of their woes on the US and Europe. It’s what governments do to deflect responsibility while they’re taking the best for themselves.’

Yasmine frowns. She gets evil. She’s seen evil and fought it and killed it, but evil at such a level as keeping people locked in and starving to provide a scapegoat is more than her mind can grasp.

‘You said you wanted something from me?’ Kristi asks a moment later.

‘I already asked you,’ Yasmine says as Kristi frowns at her. ‘The Six?’

‘What about them?’

‘Who are they?’

‘Who are they? How would I know? And why do you need to know?’

‘Because they ordered the killings,’ Helga says. ‘The ones over here, and Armani Hung-Shu and her unborn child.’

Kristi frowns again, starting to grasp what this is about as she looks back to the gleaming tattoo on Yasmine’s forehead then over to the ink all over Abdul’s skull and neck. Two killers. Father and daughter. A grimness in the air. A sense of purpose. An air of murder. ‘You want to kill them?’

Nobody speaks. Nobody needs to speak because the answer is clear on all of their faces. ‘One of them,’ Yasmine eventually says.

‘You want me to tell you who the Six are so you can kill one of them.’

Yasmine looks at her. Her dark eyes full of energy and violence as Kristi thinks back to how Yasmine fought the people that were going to stab and rob them last night. The same woman who caught the rapists and murderers. The same woman who killed Dmitri. A killer without doubt, but there’s one other thing Yasmine has that Kristi has come to know. And that’s a profound sense of right and wrong.

‘Please,’ Yasmine says quietly. ‘We have to fight back. If we don’t, they will kill us all.’

‘And everyone dies,’ Kristi whispers, remembering what Yasmine said last night in the booth after the tattoo.

‘Everybody dies,’ Yasmine whispers as the silence returns. Hard and heavy and filled with meaning as those people, all with their messy lives entwined, all of them so very flawed and broken, ask Kristi to help them commit murder. Without proof. Without evidence. With only that tale to tell.

‘Kristi?’ Helga asks, drawing her attention. ‘Do you know?’

Kristi shakes her head. ‘I don’t know who the Six are,’ she says as the collective breath gets released. ‘But I think I know who one of them is . . .’

32

HMS Britannica. The only ship in the fleet to be flying upside down, but that’s not the only thing they do differently, because whereas every other ship uses their top levels for the elite, the British use their middle level – because again, why wouldn’t they?

The mid-levels. A place of astonishing wealth and privilege, where grand cabins lie dotted along twisting lanes bordered by box hedges, bushes and trees with a staggering waste of space – a crass and tasteless recreation of the idyllic Home Counties back in England, or at least the best they could recreate, given that they’re living on a spaceship.

That wasn’t the only thing they recreated, because the British also took their class system, and so while the mid-levels were given over to the wealthy and entitled – the higher-ups, the thinkers, the betters, the educated – the upper and lower levels were reluctantly given to the types that lack the wherewithal to obtain meaningful education and gainful employment. The hoi polloi as they are often called. The masses. The idiots. The needy. The stupid. The plebs. The rank and file – and that was only so that the mid-level people had someone to lord it over because in order to be effective, a class system needs all the classes.

And within the heart of those mid-levels, on Level 25 to be precise, is where the uber-wealthy reside.

The very rich.

The very connected.

Not even the captain of the ship lives on Level 25, because while captains and politicians come and go, the rich are here forever.

No. This is a place of abject luxury, and deep within the very centre of that level lies a sprawling set of interconnected cabins filled with opulence. Grand pianos adorn large rooms with real windows giving views of the fleet. Glass vestibules bulge out of the hull, filled with plants and winding paths. Bedrooms with king-sized beds fitted with real silk sheets. Sofas of ancient leather. Paintings of ancient scenes on Earth made by ancient artists long dead.

In every direction and in every view lies wealth and power, and the servants scurry around in constant fear of making noise and being berated – or worse, beaten. Because this is space, and up here nobody hears you scream.

And screams there are, because with wealth and power comes corruption. Greed and avarice. Sin and sloth. Pride and lust. A need to take, and keep on taking, for no other reason than they can. It’s in their DNA. In their breeding. It’s their God-given right to be that way.

As it is for Albert Edwards. An older man with grey hair and a sagging belly and a sneering mouth filled with big ancestral teeth. And an ego the size of a planet.

But then he’s royalty. He is the direct descendant of the illegitimate son of a British prince. The son who developed a digital trading system on Earth and who, through his entitled connections, persuaded the fleet to take that system on. And later, when the Fleet Finance system looked to be run through the WS Diligence, that son helped arrange for the collision that killed millions, to ensure his system was the only system.

That being the Fleet Finance system.

Of which he is the owner. And, by default, also the ruling monarch of the British royal family. Which is not recognised, as the fleet decided, smartly, to get rid of monarchs, but being so astonishingly wealthy means Albert Edwards can say what he wants, and nobody can argue otherwise. Therefore, in here, in his own kingdom, he is the king and ruler.

And rule he does. By force and by rage. Especially if his dollies aren’t arranged throughout his cabins exactly as they are meant to be. People get whipped for that.

Whipped.

With whips.

He has a whip now. In his hand. Standing near-on naked save for his saggy belly hanging over his tight rubber boxers.

And he has that whip because the young woman in front of him wants him to whip her.

‘Don’t you. Eh? Fancy a good thrashing do you?’ he asks in that British way of being so fucking educated you can’t speak properly.

The girl nods. Stick-thin and hungry. She doesn’t really want to be whipped at all. She wants to eat. And, apparently, if she lets this creepy sleazebag whip her a few times she’ll get paid lots of credits. Which – when you’re in poverty and facing starvation – is a deal a lot of people would take.

And Albert Edwards knows she needs the credits. Which makes it even better for his sick mind that twists and mutates that need into a desire.

‘Yeah. You little peasant. Eh? Getting all sweaty are you? I wish I could sweat,’ he says, cracking his whip with his thin arms and saggy belly there in his rubber pants while lording it over a peasant from some shitty level somewhere else while the other peasants scurry about putting his dolls in order and boiling up some foie gras for lunch followed by spotted dick and custard for afters. And maybe some port and cheese. And then maybe he can whip someone else later.

That’s in his blood too. His family has always liked them young.

His nephew was the same. But he took it too far and ended up dying in police custody on the Ark. Colin Sanders took the fall for that.

Mind you, the Humility won’t be there for much longer. That’s for damn sure. It’s only a matter of time before they arrange another accidental collision. Sooner the better, Albert thinks while cracking the whip over the terrified, and also very hungry, seventeen-year-old girl who has been made to wear a Victorian servant’s outfit. Best era for the British. Hear, hear!

But outside that inner sanctum, and beyond the rooms of wealth and opulence, and out beyond the grounds of fake grass and box hedges, there stands a door.

A security door.

And behind it three large people sit on chairs, flicking through their feeds. Two men and a woman. All dressed in black. All of them armed with voltage sticks and Taser pistols.

Not that they need to be, because the door is a high-level security door that nobody can get through. It even has a red light blinking away to show it’s locked tight.

A red light that changes to green with a distinctive click as the locks are disengaged, and those three large security officials snap their heads up to share a look of confusion. They start to rise as the door slides open and nobody comes through.

‘Is it broken?’ one of them asks, going forward then flying back from the punch delivered to his throat that has him choking on his own blood as he hits the floor. The other two react fast, but they don’t stand a chance against the black-clad figures steaming through. Pressing voltage sticks turned to max into bellies to make those security people convulse and shudder as the flexi-pipes are brought down hard. Cracking skulls and taking lives.

Ten of them get through the door.

Two hold back to make sure the security team is down.

Eight go forward.

Eight figures dressed head to toe in black. Their faces covered by masks.

They run over the fake grass towards the cabin as two more members of the inner security team charge towards them, firing Taser pistols and clutching voltage sticks.

The barbs hit the leading two in black who take the pain with barely a grunt then they’re into the guards. Cracking skulls and taking lives.

Six go on. Sweeping forward because this was the plan. Once we hit we don’t stop. We go and we keep going and those behind catch up.

They do that now and hit the main door. Pausing for a band to be pressed against it.

Pausing for a man on a bridge to hack and override.

Pausing for the red light to turn green as the door swishes back and the six spill inside to greet more guards rushing, shouting in alarm as they get beaten back and beaten down. Battered hard. Skulls cracking. Lives taken. Blood spilling.

Screams ringing out. Grunts of pain. Another guard runs out and drives a voltage stick into the side of a woman in tight black. She pays no heed and pulls him forward to headbutt. Breaking his nose as someone smaller swings a flexi-pipe at his head. Killing him before he hits the floor.

A man in black stamps on a head. Another snaps an arm then flips the body to snap the neck.

And on they go. Pouring through those rooms of wealth and opulence. Rooms filling with servants crying out in fear, who are left untouched because only the security are taken down. Only those that have power and arms get beaten and battered and broken and killed.

And killed they are.

Every last one of them.

But it has to be this way.

We don’t show weakness. We show strength. We show savage violence, and if you doubt or pause or falter for one second, remember the image of Armani Hung-Shu and her unborn child. Remember Stella swinging from a pipe. That’s what they did. And that’s why we need to do this.

A speech made by Abdul. But one that didn’t need to be said, because they were in it from the start, and they pour through the very centre of the mid-level on the British ship. Clubbing security down. Battering them aside. Each one of them armed with a voltage stick held in the left hand and a flexi-pipe in the right. A deadly duo of weapons. One to stun and immobilise so the other can swing in and kill – and behind them the bodies are left strewn and broken.

It's not just the bodies they go for either. They smash vases and break furniture. They rip paintings off walls and send heavy bodies smashing down on grand pianos.

Shock and awe and pure Elfor violence.

And there. Right in the middle, within his inner sanctum, Albert Edwards slowly becomes aware of a noise outside and starts to show irritation at being disturbed while thrashing a peasant girl. He tries to ignore it. But it doesn’t stop. It only gets closer.

‘WHAT THE DAMNED HELL!’ he roars with petulant rage as he strides to the door that swings open to show him a black-clad figure bringing a foot down on one of his beloved dollies. ‘HOW DARE YOU!’ he screams, ready to wage war with his whip as his brain slowly takes in the size of the none-too-friendly-looking figure.

He backtracks fast. Into his inner sanctum with a yelp as he spies more black-clad figures coming forward and swipes to close his door. Relieved that he invested in a safe room with an impenetrable door. A door that can’t be smashed in or forced.

And he swipes his band with trembling hands to summon help as a click reaches his ears and his head snaps up to that door blinking from red to green and sliding back.

‘No,’ he whispers, taking a step back as the first black-clad figure steps inside clutching a flexi-pipe dripping with blood. ‘GET OUT!’ he screams, still holding the whip while the kneeling peasant girl stares up in wide-eyed terror at the figures coming into the room. ‘Mistake. Big mistake!’ Albert snarls. ‘Do you know who I am? DO YOU?’

They don’t speak as two of them help the peasant girl to her feet and usher her out, and only then does the lead figure reach up to pull off their mask and Albert sees the cold blue eyes of Helga Sveinsson staring at him.

* * *

‘We’re coming in close,’ Dilly Dally Dolly had said, reading the instrument panel in front then looking up through the window to the HMS Britannica. ‘We need to black out now.’

‘On it,’ Sven said, making the call. ‘Sam. Can you cloak us?’

Sam took the call on the bridge of the Humility and tapped into his screens, already up and waiting, as he remotely switched the Elfor One transponder off and cut all signals emitting from her engines and equipment. ‘Cloaking on.’

‘Cloaking on,’ Sven relayed.

‘Fucking love this shit!’ Dilly Dally Dolly said with a grin. ‘Thank you for inviting me!’ he called over his shoulder.

‘I don’t know why I couldn’t fly it,’ Sven muttered. Still in his apron with his ladle across his lap.

‘You didn’t know how to switch the engines on last time,’ Zhang said in the back, earning a middle-finger response from Sven, co-piloting in the cabin.

‘There she is,’ Dilly Dally Dolly said, taking manual control to fly the shuttle by sight as they zoomed in close to the Britannica, the only ship in the fleet flying upside down. ‘Fucking British are weird,’ he said, spinning the stick to make the shuttle flip over with a dizzying adjustment in everyone’s heads as they re-established their mental positions in time and space. The ceiling switched to translucent so they could watch Dilly fly in super-close to hug the outer shell. ‘Approaching the dock.’

‘Approaching the dock,’ Sven relayed.

‘On it,’ Sam replied, having already hacked into HMS Britannica’s docking system to gain access to the emergency use port, and a second later, Dilly Dally Dolly smiled again as the previously inert docking station lit up with a green for go.

* * *

It was Nessy, his Elfor pilot friend, who took a call to fly the Elfor One shuttle, but Nessy was busy on the Beijing. Instead, she called Dilly because she knew he was visiting family in the Elfors.

Ten minutes later Dilly had presented himself suited, booted and ready to go. There was no delay either. He loaded up, took off and flew as fast as he could to get the shuttle alongside, using manual controls to activate bow burners, and side boosters to slow and slide in with the softest of touches. The docking port clamped on and the tunnel doors hissed to vent gases. ‘Docked,’ he said, turning to the people in the back. ‘We’ll do the drop-off and come back.’

‘Good luck,’ Zhang said as he dropped the ten black-clad figures off on the Britannica, but his job wasn’t over, and he soon undocked with a hard turn towards the Chastity.

‘We’re coming in,’ Dilly reported a few moments later. ‘Level 5 docking port?’

‘Confirmed,’ Sven said, the cloaking still on, and again they watched as the docking port light switched from inert to green and the shuttle flew in tight and smooth.

‘You good?’ Sven asked, looking back to Zhang by the exit door. ‘You sure you don’t need a hand?’

‘I’m good,’ Zhang said and slipped out into the dark interior, waiting for the shuttle to decouple and drop away.

Only then did he rush on through the quiet service lanes and out into the public areas to a stairwell, then up to Level 2 of the worldship Chastity. Pausing by the security door.

‘Sam. I’m at the door.’

‘On it,’ Sam said, overriding the door security. Zhang rushed through, forcing himself not to run and draw attention. He saw people here and there. But they showed no alarm which meant word had not yet spread, and he soon reached the final door that opened to Sergeant Po Lee aiming a Taser pistol at him.

‘Thank god,’ she whispered, stepping aside as he went to the bodies, and the scene that looked so much worse in reality. The smell of it. The tang of iron and shit and piss. The sight of the unborn child. The stab wounds caused by a thin stiletto blade held in the right hand of a six-foot male and he nodded darkly. Knowing it was him. The same killer.

‘Who are you?’ a voice asked. A voice broken and hurting but still full of authority, and he looked over to Captain Fei Hung-Shu being comforted by Tatiana.

‘Detective Zhang Woo, ma’am. I work for Captain Sveinsson.’

Fei nodded. Her world broken. Her eyes trying desperately not to look at the bodies. ‘Do you know who did this, Detective Woo?’

‘I don’t know his name. But I will find him, ma’am.’

‘And then?’ Fei whispered.

‘Then I’ll kill him,’ Zhang answered bluntly. Po dared not breathe, let alone move. But it seemed to be the right answer because Fei nodded.

‘Po. Will you work with Zhang as my liaison?’

‘Of course, Captain,’ Po said, because she was in awe of her captain, as Zhang was of his, and would walk through the gates of hell for Fei Hung-Shu.

‘Good. I want this to be a shared endeavour. The Chastity will have her revenge with the Humility. The question though, Detective, is how you will find this man.’

‘Captain Sveinsson is dealing with that as we speak,’ Zhang said.

* * *

‘Helga,’ Albert Edward gasps on the Britannica, as another figure strides in and slams a flexi-pipe into his shin, snapping the bone as he drops screaming.

‘That’s for the girl you whipped!’ Yasmine snaps, pulling her mask off. ‘Sick fucking puta!’ she yells, kicking his ribs and feeling one of them break as she snatches the whip up and lashes him with it a few times, making Albert scream in agony and terror. But scream he might because there is no one left to hear, and those that do don’t care for his plight. They plunder and rob and take what they can while rejoicing at his anguish.

Then it stops and Yasmine stands back. Breathing hard as Helga takes her place to stare down.

‘Are you one of the Six?’ Helga asks.

‘What?’ he whispers. ‘I don’t know what that is.’

Which is a mistake.

What he should have said is no.

But by denying he even knew of them, he admitted he was one.

And it shows in his eyes that fill with self-righteous rage. ‘You have no idea what we can do,’ he snarls. ‘Your fucking ships will be slammed before this day ends.’

‘What a pity you won’t be alive to see it,’ Helga says.

‘Fuck. That’s gangster,’ a voice says from behind as Sun pulls her mask off. ‘Wotcha mate! I’m a British cockernee eatin’ me jellied eels and flyin’ upside down!’

‘What?’ Albert Edwards asks in a gibbering voice as he takes in the faces of the misfits all pulling their masks off then balks at seeing the seething fury of Abdul Shariff squatting down to dominate his vision.

‘I am going to kill you,’ Abdul says, reaching out to grip his throat. ‘And I am going to kill you slowly,’ he adds while squeezing hard enough to start driving real terror into Albert Edward’s eyes. ‘But before you die,’ Abdul whispers. ‘You will tell me who the other five are.’

* * *

On the bridge of the Humility, Kristi Carter stands in silence. Stunned at the transition of events. Stunned at just being up here, let alone everything else. Now Helga is off, leading a team to the one person Kristi had heard about.

‘He comes from a British royal prince or something,’ she told the others on the bridge when they asked her who the Six were. ‘Albert Edwards. He owns the Fleet Finance systems.’

‘I know Albert,’ Helga said with a shudder. ‘He’s a vile man.’

Kristi nodded. ‘Even my studio manager won’t let me near the Fleet Finance systems, and I get censored if I say anything too severe about Albert Edwards, especially if I mention the rumours of him liking very young women. But I don’t know. Does that make him one of the Six?’

‘We’ll soon find out,’ Helga said. ‘Someone call Sven and have him get the shuttle ready.’

‘Or we could find someone who can fly a shuttle,’ Zhang said.

* * *

‘Do you think they’ll get the other names?’ Kristi asks on the bridge, pacing back and forth to try and burn the tension off.

‘Yes,’ Penny says, sitting in the captain’s chair and working through reports on her clipboard and screens.

‘How can you be so calm?’ Kristi asks with a glance over to Sam working on his own screens while the red and golden lines move fractionally forwards.

‘Used to it,’ Penny says without looking up.

‘Are they really going to kill him?’ Kristi asks.

‘I hope so,’ Penny says flatly.

‘Are you okay? I mean. Are we still friends?’ Kristi asks, feeling the coldness pouring from Penny.

‘I don’t know. Are you going to try and kiss me too to find some shit out?’ Penny says before standing up to head off.

‘Ouch.’ Kristi winces at the rejection. ‘Where are you going?’

‘I’ve got a meeting,’ Penny calls. ‘It’s too late to cancel it,’ she adds before stopping and looking over with a thoughtful expression. Then she walks back to Kristi and leans in close. ‘You’ve got a habit of trying to seduce my friends, but you even look at Sam and I’ll break every bone in your fucking body.’

‘What the—!’

‘Are we clear?’

‘Yes! I wouldn’t. Jesus. It was one kiss. Well. Two kisses. Okay a few kisses. Whatever! Fine. I won’t even look at him.’

‘Sam! I’ve got a meeting,’ Penny calls. ‘Don’t talk to Kristi. And call me if she tries it on.’

‘Okay,’ Sam says without taking a word in as Penny turns and heads down the stairs with a strange feeling inside.

A very strange feeling if she is to be precise.

In fact, it’s not just a strange feeling, but a monumentally weird AF feeling, and she hits the Level 1 corridor as an aide rushes out from an office with a look of relief at seeing Penny.

‘The councillors are all here!’

‘Okay,’ Penny says.

‘And we’ve had the first crime figures back since the arrests of the murderers and rapists.’

‘And?’

‘It’s an eighty-four per cent decrease in crime. Eighty-four per cent!’

‘Great. Do a press release up and get it to me for checking. What about the retail zone figures? Are they in yet?’

‘Er, yep! So that’s a twenty-three per cent increase on like for like against this time in the last financial year. But we’re obviously still down overall because of the lockdowns during the riots. But the Elfor Store is reporting a massive gross profit . . . And we’re getting the first revenue in from Neon City entry fees and the first taxations.’

‘Send the figures to me,’ Penny says, pausing by the big office. ‘Janey!’

‘Coming,’ Janey says, bustling out with her own clipboard. ‘Have you seen the figures?’

‘I have. Amazing,’ Penny says, walking on with Janey at her side and that crazy-ass weird AF feeling getting worse in her belly. Nerves and fear and a great big dose of imposter syndrome – all of which magnify by a hundred when she reaches the conference room doors that pull back to show a room packed with councillors. Not that she shows it, but then Penny is well versed in representing Abdul and so she walks with her head held high. A tall, striking black woman in a tight-fitting business suit flanked by Janey, and they stride into the room and walk around the table to the very top. To the raised section and the chairs reserved for the Captain and the Vice-Captain.

‘Good afternoon. Thank you for coming. Let’s get seated and make a start,’ Penny calls, taking a seat as the room gradually falls silent and the moment comes when the councillors look over in confusion because they were expecting Helga and Abdul.

‘Sorry. Who are you?’ Henry Hendrickson asks rudely.

‘You know me, Henry. We’ve met several times,’ Penny says, staring at him levelly while Janey falters then sits down next to her.

‘You’re Abdul’s Elfor assistant,’ Henry says with a confused look at the others. ‘What the hell are you doing here? And what the hell are you doing sitting there?’

‘Sorry I’m late!’ Ferdy calls, striding in with a wave. ‘Captain. My apologies.’

‘It’s fine, Ferdy. Take a seat,’ Penny says with a warm smile. ‘And everyone else too please. We’ve got a lot to cover.’

‘No! Wait,’ Henry snaps. ‘What the hell is this? Where’s Helga?’

‘Captain Sveinsson and Vice-Captain Shariff are temporarily indisposed, and during their absence I am nominated as Acting Captain,’ Penny says.

Which is why she has that weird AF feeling. Because Helga left her in charge.

She did that. She actually said it as she was getting on the damned shuttle to go with Abdul.

‘I’m going with them, Penny. You have the ship.’

‘Wait! What?’ Penny asked, chasing after her as Helga paused with a voltage stick in one hand and a flexi-pipe in the other while clad in a tight black outfit.

‘You’ll be fine, Acting Captain,’ Helga said with a wink before disappearing into the Elfor One shuttle.

And that was that. Penny – that being the girl born into poverty into the Elfors who ran wild with Yassy while being dragged up by Colly – was in charge of the whole ship.

‘But you’re an Elforist,’ Henry says with disgust as a very sudden silence descends in the room.

‘So am I,’ Ferdy says as he takes a seat. ‘And so is he,’ he adds with a nod to the door as the newest member of the Level 1 security team steps in to stand sentry with his hands clasped to the front. ‘He’s called Chimpy.’

‘Hi, Chimpy,’ Penny says.

‘Alright, Pen,’ Chimpy says, his black shirt straining against his very wide shoulders and the sleeves coming up short on his very long arms.

‘Right. Let’s get to it shall we,’ Penny says with a dazzling smile. ‘Acting Vice-Captain Harrington. What’s first on the agenda?’

‘I think congratulations are in order,’ Janey says. ‘To our newly appointed business minister, Fergus Ferdinand.’

‘Well done, Ferdy,’ Penny says as the applause comes. Most of it genuine and accompanied by real smiles from those councillors who stood for the Elfors. But then what choice have they got? Times are changing and the Elfors are not the weak people they once were.

* * *

And on the Chastity, after being collected and brought over by Dilly, Captain Helga Sveinsson and Vice-Captain Abdul Shariff rush along the Level 2 corridor with Ivan and Olga behind them. And they do get looks, as the aides and staff begin to realise something is happening.

A moment later and they reach the door to Fei’s quarters with Zhang and Po inside holding Taser pistols ready, both instantly relaxing as Helga and Abdul stride in, Helga rushing to Fei and Abdul blanching at the sight of the bodies.

‘Fei! I came as soon as I could,’ Helga says, kneeling beside the stricken Fei. ‘Why are you still in this room? Let’s get you moved shall we.’

‘I try this. She not move,’ Tatiana says.

‘I don’t want to leave them,’ Fei says with fresh tears spilling down her eyes.

‘They’re not here anymore, Fei,’ Helga says, her own eyes filling. ‘The body is just a vessel to carry the soul, and theirs are released.’

It’s too much and Fei sobs again, clinging onto Helga as the others stand in silence, not knowing what to do, until that burst of raw pain eases enough for Fei to draw air and sit back. Exhausted and drained.

‘Where did you go?’ she asks quietly, looking at Helga.

‘The Britannica. We found one of the Six,’ Helga whispers. Looking into her eyes and holding Fei’s hands tight. ‘One of the people that ordered this, Albert Edwards . . . And we made him talk. We know who they are, Fei. We know who the Six are.’

‘Is he dead?’ Fei asks, her voice barely a whisper.

Helga nods, seeing the need for revenge within her. ‘He’s dead. His whole team is dead. Now you listen to me, Fei. What they did to you is a declaration of war and we won’t stop until we win this thing. We have every single Elforist in the fleet behind us and we’ll deal with whatever the Six throw at us, because we’ve got more power than they will ever realise.’

* * *

And on the bridge of the Humility, Sam Gablinski loses himself in his work. Watching the red and golden lines inching along and trying to work out a way to make it go faster, but every binary code of data has to be copied and processed and inputted, making it painfully slow.

In the meantime, he coded the kill switch for Linda Lick-Up and sent it over. She called him almost instantly.

‘Sam! That was so quick,’ she said with a huge smile, as Kristi watched on from a few metres away. ‘You are the sweetest! Come over to the Ark. Let me take you for lunch or dinner.’

‘Ach, I can’t. I’ve got heaps to do. But soon though. And call me if that kill switch doesn’t work.’

Linda cut the call with Sam smiling and shaking his head and a moment later he took another call.

‘Sam!’ Chi-Chi said with a smile stretching from ear to ear at seeing him. ‘I wanted to check in. How are you?’

‘I’m okay. How are you? Linda called me. She said you’d passed my contact over. She’s a nice lady.’

‘She’s lovely isn’t she! You didn’t mind me sharing your contact then? I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t trust the person.’

‘No, it’s fine. I trust you.’

‘Bless. Do you know what though? It’s so nice seeing your smile! I’ve missed it. Urgh. I’m being called back to rehearsals. Gotta go. Come over and see me! Let’s hang out.’

That call ended but another came in just a moment later with Johan Johans’ face smiling in the holo feed.

‘Hey. Is that Sam? Hey buddy! How’s it going? Linda said to call you up. Is that okay? You want me to go through an agent or something?’

‘Ach, no, it’s fine,’ Sam said. ‘It’s very nice to meet you. I love your movies.’

‘Dude. That’s such a nice thing to say, and hey, not being shallow or doing that Fleet Hollywood thing, but I. Love. Your. Work. Beaky and Tiny Beaker and the adverts! Wow. But say, that’s why I called. I wanted to see about us working together. Maybe a live action thing with me and Beaky getting into some scrapes. What do you think? We could donate some of the proceeds to Elfor charities.’

Kristi listened on. Stunned to the core. Not only at the calls themselves from the fleet’s biggest stars, all of whom she knew and had met and interviewed many times, but they didn’t speak to her like that. And they certainly didn’t smile the way they do at Sam, as though they genuinely like him and want to please him.

And Sam is so lovely the way he deals with them and says sure, soon as I get a chance I’ll call, and we can do that. Sounds great!

Then he cut the call and worked on and she stands in the dark silence, watching him closely.

‘You might want to think about getting an agent,’ she says after a moment as Sam looks over startled, like he forgot she was there. He even smiles at her. Shy and coy and nice. Like he did that night when she tried to interview him at the porridge party.

‘An agent? What for?’

‘So you don’t get ripped off.’

‘Ripped off? No. They seem really nice.’

She frowns, thinking he can’t be serious. But he is and he means it, and suddenly she feels shitty as hell for what she did. ‘I’m sorry,’ she blurts.

‘What for?’

‘The Yasmine thing,’ she says, seeing him frown. ‘For kissing her.’

‘Oh! Right. Yeah that,’ he says with a fleeting look of pain and confusion and other things before he turns to his screens then stops and turns back. ‘I kind of get it though.’

‘Get what?’

‘With Yasmine and what Dmitri did to her. That was bad,’ he says with a level of raw honesty that keeps her silent and mesmerised. ‘So yeah. I wouldn’t want a guy touching me after that.’

‘Oh god, Sam.’

‘No. It’s okay. We tried. And I think she wanted to. Like, she kept trying but she couldn’t. You know?’

Kristi nods with tears rolling down her cheeks.

‘And you’re not a man,’ Sam says simply. ‘Your energy. It’s not male, is it?’

‘No,’ she whispers. Hating herself for any shred of pain she might have caused.

‘So. Yeah. If she can find happiness, then . . . That’s a good thing.’

‘It wasn’t sexual, Sam.’

‘You don’t need to tell me anything. But a kiss is intimate and sexual doesn’t always mean sex. But it’s cool. If Yasmine can kiss you and not feel scared then she should do that.’

‘Oh god, Sam,’ she whispers, the emotions surging up inside at being exposed to a level of decency she’s hasn’t seen for a very long time, and right there, right then, Kristi Carter, the hardened reporter, suddenly gets the magic of Sam Gablinski and understands the warning Penny gave her, because if someone hurt Sam right now Kristi would want to break every bone in their body too.

‘Anyway. I’d better get on. I still need to work out why it moved.’

‘Why what moved?’ Kristi asks.

‘The fleet. I mean. We’re always moving. We’re in space. Everything is moving. But the fleet moved while it was moving. Sorry. Yasmine tells me off when I do gobbledegook. I mean I saw the fleet move.’

‘What did you see?’ she asks, drawn into the mystery. Drawn into his energy.

‘The burners. Every single aft burner in the fleet came on at the same time and the whole fleet did this,’ he motions with his hand, gliding it up while moving it along. ‘But it was sharp. And you don’t do that in space. You don’t need to. If we see something coming, we see it a long way off and we move gradually. Not like that.’

‘Which begs the question why,’ Kristi says.

‘Definitely.’

‘Okay. How can I help?’ she asks, pulling her hair back as her studio manager calls again. ‘I told you. I’m taking a sick day. You call me again and I’ll quit. Sorry about that, Sam. Right. What can I do? And tell me again. How sharp was the movement?’

‘It was sharp. Like really sharp,’ Sam says, gliding his hand again as Penny holds the meeting and Helga holds Fei while Zhang and Po hold sheets to lower over the bodies and Abdul gets ready to hold a press conference about the devasting murders.

And at the far front of the fleet, in a matt black ship that has no trace and no name, five apparitions form into a circle for a panicked meeting – because of one of theirs has been taken down, and over the body of Albert Edwards lying bruised, battered, bloodied and broken in his rubber boxes, a bloody smear stands proud on the wall. A dripping symbol left behind. One single number.

33

‘. . . And I only found out from Ares a moment before this meeting was called,’ Lakshmi says to the tense and panicked meeting.

‘I don’t like it,’ Venus snaps. ‘How did Mikhail know first? And why is he calling you?’

‘Try asking me, Kaylee!’ Ares snaps. ‘I am right here!’

‘Well go on then,’ Venus prompts with a scornful tone as her vapourish figure folds its arms. ‘Were you there, Mikhail? Did you just stumble across the body?’

‘How dare you!’ Ares says.

‘Mikhail controls nearly every police force in the fleet,’ Lakshmi cuts in. ‘You know this, Kaylee, and most of those police chiefs feed intelligence to him.’

‘Which is how I got the call,’ Ares explains, his own voice angry and curt, his Russian accent suddenly stronger. ‘Plutus’s body was found by his aide who called the Chief Constable for the Britannica, who immediately informed my aides.’

‘Right. And you told Lakshmi before anyone else?’ Venus asks with her trademark sarcastic sneer.

‘My apologies, Kaylee. I was not aware I had instructions to report to you,’ Ares says.

‘You report to all of us!’ Shango cuts in.

‘I report to no one!’ Ares fires back. ‘We are equal here. I have as much power and influence as any of you!’

‘Jesus. Get your dick out why don’t you,’ Venus says with another dismissive sneer. ‘And this isn’t about you, Mikhail. Plutus is dead!’

‘I never said this was about me! You accused me of—’

‘Okay. We’re all tense and shaken up,’ Lakshmi cuts in, waving her hands to calm everyone. ‘What we need to do is focus on why and how and who.’

‘They acted in retaliation,’ the Jade Emperor says calmly, making their heads snap over to her form.

‘In retaliation to what?’ Venus demands.

‘In retaliation to the death of Armani Hung-Shu,’ the Jade Emperor says.

‘What?’ Shango asks in shock. ‘When did she die? And what does Plutus have to do with Armani? Oh god. He didn’t rape her, did he?’

‘She was pregnant!’ Venus says.

‘That would not stop him,’ Shango says bluntly.

‘Hermes killed her,’ the Jade Emperor says.

‘These fucking names!’ Venus snaps. ‘It’s too much. Hermes. Hector. Just pick one already! And why did he murder Armani? What about the baby?’

‘They are both dead,’ the Jade Emperor says. ‘Fei went against us. We discussed this. We said we would take action.’

‘We said we would take action!’ Shango says. ‘Who authorised the murder?’

‘I did,’ the Jade Emperor says.

Silence for a second as Shango and Venus share looks in such a way that makes the others realise they must be projecting next to each other.

‘Should this not have been discussed?’ Shango asks in a low tone. ‘We act as one, do we not? We are equal.’

‘I saw an opportunity and I took it, but it seems Helga decided to react,’ the Jade Emperor says as a holo image comes to life in the centre showing Albert Edwards’ inner sanctum and the man himself lying dead. His skin whipped. Blood pooled beneath him and a bloody smear on the wall. One symbol. The number 5, and the others gasp at the meaning of it.

‘How did she know he was one of us?’ Ares asks quietly. ‘How did Helga know?’

‘He was a fucking pervert!’ Shango snaps. ‘Plutus drew too much attention. We all told him that.’

‘Do they know who we are?’ Venus asks in alarm. ‘And how did they get past his security?’

She cuts off as the image starts to move, with a pre-recorded clip from someone filming through Albert’s rooms, showing the bodies of his security team lying broken and bloodied from the inner sanctum to the outer door. Signs of carnage everywhere. Furniture broken. Vases smashed. Paintings ripped in half. A statement made. A very obvious statement.

‘Those fucking animals,’ Shango hisses. ‘How dare they touch one of us.’

‘Indeed,’ the Jade Emperor says. ‘I suggest we immediately escalate.’

‘Smash their fucking ships together,’ Venus says.

‘Which ones?’ Lakshmi asks.

‘All of them!’ Venus says. ‘The Virtue fleet. Wipe them all out and get rid of the problem. Sully and Carlos both know about the code. Fei went against us, and Helga is a parasite that needs killing.’

‘I didn’t agree before, but I do now,’ Ares says as even Lakshmi nods her approval.

‘Agreed,’ Shango says.

‘I have made plans,’ the Jade Emperor says, making them all turn once more.

‘What plans?! When?’ Venus demands.

‘Why are you making moves by yourself?’ Shango asks.

‘Because I am prepared,’ the Jade Emperor replies. ‘I foresaw such a thing and took steps. It will be resolved.’

‘We are the Six!’ Venus says. Angry at being left out and made to feel vulnerable. ‘We act as one, Mei Ting.’

A gasp from Lakshmi. Ares falls silent and even Shango shoots Venus a worried look while the Jade Emperor’s ghoulish form doesn’t move a muscle.

‘We are not the Six, Kaylee. We are the Five,’ the Jade Emperor says quietly. ‘It will be resolved. Double your security teams.’

And with that she blinks out, leaving the others hanging in silence as they too disappear from sight and the matt black ship, out so far ahead of the fleet, flies on in silence.

34

The Elfor One shuttle lands once again at the Level 5 docking port on the Humility.

A moment later Jorgey Raynor steps off, having led the strike team against Albert Edwards. She was first through the security door on the Britannica, and she took the first kill. Clara, Boris and Pasha behind her. All of them in tight black tactical clothing designed to withstand Taser barbs and reduce the impact of voltage stick strikes.

Colin greets them with Kristi at his side who shares a few words then goes past to get into the shuttle that once more decouples and drops away to fly fast through space.

Kristi thought she was staying on the bridge with Sam, but Helga’s plans proved fluid with a hasty call asking her to go over and break the story of Armani’s murder live from the Chastity.

‘So hey there,’ Dilly Dally Dolly says with a grin and a wink to the famous reporter behind them in the main compartment. ‘What’s a nice lady like you doing in a place like this?’

Kristi rolls her eyes at the handsome pilot poking his tongue out with buckets of Elfor charm pouring off him.

‘I wouldn’t,’ Sven whispers, loud enough for Kristi to hear. ‘She’s kind of in the middle between Yassy and Zhang.’

‘Sven!’ Kristi snaps.

‘Yassy’s gay?’ Dilly asks with a shocked look. ‘Fair play to her. Hey, well done, Kristi. No harm meant. I was just flirting.’

‘I’m not with Yassy!’

‘Zhang then,’ Sven says.

‘Or Zhang!’ Kristi snaps.

‘So? You are single?’ Dilly asks with a wink to show he’s joking. ‘Yeah, but I wouldn’t tangle with Zhang. He was the tall Chinese guy we took over, right? Yeah. Fuck that. Or Yassy. Damn. That’s a mess though.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Kristi mutters, swiping at Sven’s shoulder. ‘And you, big mouth. Say that again and I’ll tell Yassy you’re blabbing shit about her.’

‘Whoa. No. Don’t do that,’ Sven says, holding his hands up in apology.

‘Don’t be offended,’ Dilly says as he punches more speed into the shuttle. ‘We’re Elforists. We all talk shit about each other, but we also know how to keep secrets.’

Kristi stays silent and a moment later she steps through the tunnel into the Chastity’s Level 5 docking port and feels that whump inside her chest at seeing Yasmine and Sun waiting for her. ‘Hey. You both okay?’

‘What-ho mate!’ Sun says in her mock British accent. ‘We had a bit of a scrap on the old Blighty ship. Eh? They don’t like it up ’em.’

Kristi nods, not knowing quite what to say before a thought strikes her. ‘What’s in this for you, Sun?’

‘Eh?’ Sun asks.

‘You’re not an Elfor. You’re not even from the Humility, but you just helped kill people for Helga.’

‘Yeah, that’s not the first people we’ve killed for Helga,’ Sun says with a snort. ‘Doubt it’ll be the last either. But I don’t get the question? Why wouldn’t I help? Yassy’s my mate. That’s what mates do. We have each other’s backs.’

Kristi smarts: the comment feels like it was loaded with meaning.

‘And she’s teaching me,’ Sun adds, shooting a sincere look to Yasmine. ‘Which is better than working at a café,’ she adds as Yasmine rolls her eyes. ‘No, but seriously? I want to work in the café and serve porridge.’

Yasmine smiles at the impersonation as they lead Kristi to the stairwell and start up to Level 2.

‘How’s Sam though?’ Sun asks. ‘I bet that was awkward as fuck. You and him on the bridge. What did you talk about? Who was the best kisser?’

‘Sun!’ Yasmine snaps as Kristi flinches.

‘If you can’t do the time don’t do the crime,’ Sun says, giving them both a look. ‘Sam’s my mate too. Fuckers.’

‘Alright,’ Yasmine says tightly, telling her to stop while knowing she won’t, while also feeling like they deserve the shaming.

They get through the security door with Yasmine using her hacking software and Kristi wondering why anybody bothers to even use doors in the fleet for all the good they do. Then they slip inside the Level 2 corridor and aim for the far end and a gathering crowd of aides, admin staff and Chastity police all responding to the spreading rumours.

‘Oh look,’ Sun says. ‘Isn’t that Zhang? Say, weren’t you dating him?’ she asks as Kristi clenches her jaw and they come to a stop beside Zhang, with a very attractive Chinese sergeant at his side. ‘Awkward,’ Sun mutters, loud enough for them to all hear.

‘I need to go inside,’ Kristi says, slipping through and away with a last look at Zhang and Yasmine like she really wants to say something, before thinking better of it.

But what follows isn’t any less awkward as Zhang and Yasmine exchange looks.

‘You wanna talk about it?’ he asks her quietly.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says, dropping her eyes. ‘It was shitty.’

‘Don’t be sorry to me. I’m a fucking freak. Be sorry to Sam. He didn’t deserve that.’

‘Jesus, Zhang.’

‘Fuck you, Yassy. Sam’s not like us. He isn’t broken so don’t break him.’

She reels back, her cheeks stinging, as Po frowns, realising something is going on.

‘Super-complicated,’ Sun tells her in Mandarin.

‘Always is,’ Yasmine adds, also in Mandarin.

‘You got that right,’ Zhang says bitterly in Mandarin.

‘Aw. Isn’t this cute! You all speak Chinese,’ Po says in perfect English. ‘But er, when you’ve finished whatever this is, can we go and catch the person that killed my captain’s wife and unborn baby.’

Zhang nods. ‘We’ll call Sam and get him tracking. You two sniff around quietly but stay close in case we need backup.’

They split up, then awkwardly meet again by the security door and walk down a few flights together with Sun smirking and Po rolling her eyes before stepping off to drag Zhang away.

‘Get your head in the game,’ Po orders him, pushing him over to one side. ‘Fei’s been good to me and we’re going to catch this fucker.’

‘Okay,’ Zhang says, looking for the humour Po always had before, but it’s not there. Only a grim determination, but then he also realises that it’s actually very rare for cops in the fleet to see things like murdered women and babies, and he realises how hardened he’s become and makes the call. ‘Sam. I know you’re busy buddy, but we need to do those pings.’

‘It’s fine,’ Sam says.

‘I’m sending you the murder scenes. The victims all had bands. Run pings and see who shows up at each murder.’

‘Got it,’ Sam says, opening yet another screen to take the incoming data. ‘You staying on the line?’

‘That okay?’ Zhang asks.

‘Sure,’ Sam says, typing away as Po takes an incoming call.

‘It’s my chief. I need to take it,’ she says, stepping away.

‘You okay then, Sam?’ Zhang asks.

‘People keep asking me that,’ Sam says.

‘Because people care about you.’

‘Are they asking if you’re okay?’

‘Me? No.’

‘Why not? Are you okay?’

Zhang cocks his head, frowning, with no clue how to answer. ‘I don’t know what I am.’

‘Then why would I be any different?’ Sam asks. There’s still no malice there. None at all. But he seems wiser. ‘Okay. I’ve accessed the victims’ bands and I’m running a ping on all of them for the dates and times . . . Shouldn’t take long.’

‘That was my chief,’ Po says. ‘He’s angry he wasn’t informed first. He’s on his way up there.’

‘How did he know?’ Zhang asks.

Po shrugs. ‘He’s the chief. I can’t question him.’

‘He must be connected,’ Zhang says, swiping to make another call. ‘Abdul! You with Kristi and Helga?’

‘They’re next to me. Why?’

‘The Chastity chief of police just called Po. He knows about the murders. He’s coming up to you and he’s pissed he wasn’t told first.’

‘How does he know?’ Kristi asks. ‘I haven’t broken the story yet.’

‘He’s connected,’ Helga says as Zhang cuts the call.

‘You really need to tell me what’s going on when we get a chance,’ Po says.

‘I will. I promise,’ Zhang says. ‘How’s it looking, Sam?’

‘There’s nothing,’ Sam says, frowning at the results. ‘I’ve taken all the ping data and cross-referenced for any digi-sigs showing up at each scene, and there’s nothing. Not a single one.’

Zhang frowns. Trying to work out what that means. ‘Widen the search. Maybe he took his band off and left it nearby so he wouldn’t show up on a ping.’

Sam widens his search to capture the digi-sig of every single band bouncing off the victims’ bands at the time of their murders. And again, he puts all of that data into a cross-referencing system. ‘Still zero.’

‘Fuck,’ Zhang whispers.

‘Hi, Sam. I’m Po. Nice to meet you. Can you do doors?’ Po asks, leaning into the call.

‘Doors? What, like open them?’

‘No. I mean, do security doors act like bands? Do they collect digi-sigs? Because we might be able to get the data from the Level 2 access door and compare it to Fei’s door,’ Po says as Zhang’s face lights up.

‘Brilliant! Sam. Stand by. Call you in five.’

‘Okay,’ Sam says, cutting the call as he looks back at the golden and red lines still inching along and feels another surge of frustration at how long it’s taking. Something in his head. Something telling him he’s doing it the wrong way, but the solution won’t come. He has to copy the Navi-Read software over, and he has to do it twice to read the false golden line data, and the real red line data.

But he can feel it isn’t right. He sighs and turns away as a special news bulletin flashes up with a serious-faced Kristi Carter staring into the camera.

‘This is a FleetNewsCast emergency news bulletin delivered live from the worldship Chastity, where I am deeply sorry to report that Armani Hung-Shu and her unborn baby son have today been brutally murdered while in the privacy and security of their own quarters. I’m here now with Vice-Captain of the Humility, Abdul Shariff. Vice-Captain, first, please explain why you are here, and second, do you know what happened?’

The feed moves to show Abdul glowering with barely suppressed rage. ‘Kristi. This is incredibly traumatic, but Captain Sveinsson and I received a distress call from Captain Fei Hung-Shu to say she had discovered the bodies of her murdered wife and unborn son, and we immediately came over.’

‘Why you? Why didn’t Captain Hung-Shu call her own police?’

‘The reason is because Captain Hung-Shu, Captain Sveinsson and I have strong reason to believe that this crime was driven by those who still wish to seal in the Elfors. Armani Hung-Shu’s father was an Elforist. His name was Giuseppe. He left the Elfors when he was a child. Armani was half Elfor, and that was enough for these monsters.’

‘No, I’m sorry, Vice-Captain. How were you and Captain Sveinsson called to this crime before the Chastity’s own police?’

‘Because we’ve all had credible threats made against us from a very powerful group of people,’ Abdul says, lifting his chin and staring into the camera. ‘They call themselves Gods. They think they run this fleet. They think they can tell everyone what to do and where to go, and they do not want the Elfors freed. Fei Hung-Shu stood with the Humility. She openly sided with us, and in retaliation these Gods sent an assassin to murder her unarmed, defenceless wife and unborn son. And that is an attack on every Elforist in this fleet. They want us all dead. They want us eradicated. They want to commit genocide and murder women and babies. That’s why Fei called us. Because these monsters have their claws into everyone, and Fei knew we could be trusted.’

Silence for a second as even Kristi, who knew the tale and the story, reels from Abdul’s ferocious delivery.

‘This is what they are doing to us,’ Helga says as Kristi twists the feed to show Helga standing over the bloodied sheet covering the bodies. ‘Abdul is right. This is an attack against every Elforist in this fleet. But more than that. This is an attack against anyone who was ever pushed back and told they weren’t good enough. This is an attack against every poor community. The hungry. The starving. The beaten and forgotten. The Hutongs. The Bustees. They stand with the Elfors. And this vile, cowardly, disgusting act will only strengthen our will to fight back . . . and mark my words, we will fight back . . . in fact,’ she says with a vicious glint that sends chills running up spines across the fleet, ‘we already have.’

‘Holy fuck!’ Penny says in the Level 1 offices. Janey next to her. Ferdy and some of the other councillors.

Jorgey nodding at Helga’s words. Colin, Clara and the others nearby all doing the same. All of them watching in charged silence. Knowing they just baited the five remaining members of the Six.

Yasmine and Sun watch the feed in the bars alongside the vast sports arenas on the Chastity. Every game now paused with Helga’s face on the large stadium screens.

Every activity and sports session stopped. The gyms silent. The training rooms quiet as sweating people watch the feeds.

Every drinker and sports fan staring at news feeds showing Abdul and Helga next to the bodies of a murdered woman and baby.

Armani Hung-Shu.

Half Elforist.

And Yasmine looks around, seeing the grim faces of Elforists in every direction. All of them taking those words in. And not just them, others too. In the Hutongs. In the Bustees. On the top and lower levels of the British ship where the rumour spreads with joy that Albert Edwards is dead. In every place on every ship faces grow hardened as the war becomes public.

The war they all watched being fought in the lanes on the Humility. Led by the Ice Queen with her general at her side. Abdul the Angry who went out alone against the Federal shuttles.

But more than that. They heard Helga say she’s already fought back.

And on the bridge, Sam readies his bots, and after getting a message from Abdul he presses the button to send them out with thousands of fake accounts creating posts on news sites and forums. Lighting up the net and spreading the story.

And what a story it is, because every one of those posts states that Albert Edwards, serial rapist and abuser of young women, and one of the Gods known as Plutus, was just taken out by an Elfor hit squad.

And like that.

War comes to the fleet.

35

It becomes sensational within seconds and spreads faster than anything the fleet has ever known – because these Gods that tell everyone what to do killed an unarmed pregnant woman and her unborn son, and then an Elfor hit squad went into Level 25 on the British ship.

They literally just walked in and were like blam and bosh and whammo and taking all the guards out, but they didn’t touch none of the servants. And they even saved a girl being whipped to death by that Albert cunt then they used his own whip to kill him! My sister’s mate’s brother was up there working and saw the whole thing!

Armani’s death, the Elfor hit squad and Helga’s speech quickly become the top three trending stories, all three popping in and out of the number one spot and every news channel switching over to cover the story, adding to the fire, fanning the flames, and igniting the passions in every single Elforist in the fleet.

Other rumours spread fast, and the algorithms set to kill any comment or suggestion about the Six become overwhelmed.

Who are these Gods?

Who are the Six?

What do they run?

Where do they live?

But, as dynamic and sensational as that all is, it’s still a passive reaction. It’s words and online activity.

For now.

‘Let’s see what happens,’ Helga says in Fei’s quarters as Kristi cuts the live feed.

‘What do you think they’ll do?’ Kristi asks.

Helga thinks for a second. ‘They’ll ram our ships together. But that’s not something easy or quick to do. And we’ve got control of the Humility mainframe. They can’t move her. And Sam said if we get Fei onto the bridge, he can access the Chastity’s mainframe and control it.’

Abdul nods. ‘You take Fei up. I’ll deal with this here.’

‘Tatty’s given her some Calm-A-Mind,’ Helga says. ‘Give it a few hours. Like I said, even they can’t do anything that fast. Tell you what though. You take the Chief of Police and I’ll do the VC?’

‘Can I use the shuttle to get back to the Humility?’ Kristi asks, getting a nod as she rushes out and past the incoming outraged Chastity officials charging along the corridor, while she a makes a call to Sven for a pick-up.

Her heart thrilling at the events, but more than that, at finally being a part of it. And in truth, Kristi didn’t expect this. Holy fuck she didn’t expect anything like this. Now she sees why Yasmine made that threat and why Zhang could never talk about it – and what a thing to know. A new planet. A stolen code. What a story.

She heads for the stairwell, awkwardly making her way past Zhang and Po running up the stairs.

‘Your life is a mess,’ Po says to Zhang. ‘I think I dodged a bullet not getting with you.’

‘Dude. Ouch,’ Zhang says, reaching the security door as he calls Sam. ‘Okay, we’re at the door.’

‘Hang on. Hacking into it,’ Sam says amid a sea of screens. ‘Okay, I’ve downloaded the data for anyone going through it today.’

‘Stay on the line,’ Zhang says, setting off along the Level 2 corridor for the door into Fei’s quarters with a grimace at the scene inside. Forensic teams shouting that their fucking scene has been trampled to shit. Detectives telling everyone to get out and officials demanding to know why the hell Helga and Abdul were called before them. ‘Sam? We’re at the next door.’

‘Stand by,’ Sam says, hacking in to download the data. ‘Okay. I’ve got it.’

‘We’ll bug out of here and head down the stairs,’ Po says, running off before any of her colleagues see her and start demanding answers. Back they go. Along the corridor and into the stairwell and down into the busy areas alongside the arenas, hiding within the noise and crowds.

‘Sam? What you got?’ Zhang asks, breathing hard.

‘Okay, so the two doors have had the same people going through today, which means the cross-referencing system is flagging up a lot of people. But they’re all registered and known IDs.’

‘Show me,’ Zhang says as Sam twists his feed to show Zhang and Po the lines of data. Each one showing not only a digi-sig, but a corresponding name, ID and band number. ‘Okay. Sam, what would you do if you wanted to get through a door without anyone knowing?’

‘I do it already. Like literally every five minutes with you lot calling me to hack doors. My coding eats itself.’

‘Cannibalises!’ Zhang says, his eyes lighting up. ‘Cannibalising code, right? I tried learning that when I was into hacking.’

‘You were into hacking?’ Po asks, giving him a disbelieving look.

‘Hey. I was king nerd before the gangs,’ Zhang says. ‘But that still leaves a trace, right? I remember that.’

‘Kind of,’ Sam says. ‘It’s like a shadow. Think of something left near a light. It has a shadow, right? You take the thing away but the shadow stays. That’s what my door-hacking coding does.’

‘Look for that,’ Zhang urges.

‘For my own door hacks?’

‘No! The killer, Sam. He must be using the same hacking system. He’ll leave a shadow. A tell.’

‘Oh right. Gotcha. Why didn’t I think of that? Sorry. I’m all obsessed with those bloody lines. I’m missing something with them.’

‘Sam. We really need to focus on this,’ Po says smoothly as Sam offers her one of his lovely smiles.

‘Okay. Po’s a lovely name by the way. I really like it. Ooh! I’ve got it. Ha! You’re right. He’s using a cannibalising code, but it’s not as good as mine cos it’s leaving a trace. Right. What do you want to know?’

‘Okay. So, we can’t identify him from the coding he’s using to hack the doors,’ Zhang says, thinking it through as he looks at Po. ‘But we can see where he’s been. Sam. Run a search through the murder scenes. Is that trace showing up at any of them?’

‘Hang on,’ Sam says, turning away as Zhang frowns, thinking hard. His dark eyes staring at nothing. His dark hair hanging down over his forehead as Po studies him closely, sensing his brooding energy. ‘Yeah. All of them,’ Sam says. ‘Mahatma’s door pinged him. Her band. Stella. Ugly Frank. All of them.’

‘Got him!’ Zhang whispers as Po blinks at his brilliance. ‘Okay. Sam, I need you to run a search through every door on this ship and tell me where’s he’s been. We’ll close him down. I gotta call Yasmine. Hang on a second . . . Yassy?’

‘What you got?’ Yasmine asks into the call.

‘Pinging you my location. Get to me. Our perp is leaving a trace through every door he’s passing. We can start hunting him down.’

‘Coming to you,’ Yasmine says.

‘Hang on. Why bother doing that?’ Po asks as Zhang frowns at her. ‘Who cares where he’s been. We need to know where he is now. Sam, run a live search and find the last recorded entry for that code thing he’s using.’

‘Hey. That’s good,’ Zhang says in genuine awe.

‘Got him!’ Sam says a moment later. ‘He went through a docking port forty minutes ago.’

‘Which one?’ Zhang asks, pulling up the Fleet Shuttle timetables and flight data.

‘Dock 3 alongside the arenas,’ Sam says.

‘Where’s it going?’ Po asks, leaning over Zhang’s shoulder.

‘The Kindness! He’s on the Kindness. Sam, you’re the best. I owe you, buddy,’ Zhang says, cutting the call to make another. ‘Sven! We need a pick-up from the Chastity.’

‘We’re here now. Level 5.’

‘On our way! Yassy, get to the docking port, Level 5. We’re going to the Kindness.’

The calls cut out as they all set off running, Yasmine and Sun catching up with Zhang and Po as they hit the stairwell.

‘Why’s he on the Kindness?’ Yasmine asks.

‘Gotta be Sully,’ Zhang replies as they pound up the stairs and out into the deserted service lanes. ‘Sully was one of the captains who put the secret program into the Gagarin. He knows about the code. He came out against Helga, remember? And Helga just declared open warfare on them, so my guess is they need to start tying up loose ends.’

‘Shouldn’t we warn him?’ Po asks as they run down the final lane to the docking port gate already open.

‘Fuck him. We’ll use him as bait,’ Zhang says as they get through the tunnel into the shuttle’s main compartment, all four coming to a stop at the sight of Kristi already on board.

‘Hey guys! This shit isn’t awkward at all!’ Dilly says with a grin from the cockpit as he seals the door and the shuttle drops away. ‘Where first?’ he calls.

‘I’m going back to the Humility,’ Kristi says.

‘I think maybe we need to get to the Kindness, like, kinda fast?’ Zhang suggests.

‘Right,’ Kristi says.

‘You sure?’ Zhang asks, motioning between them. ‘I mean. We think we’re chasing the perp down. But if your need is more urgent then . . .’

‘No! We’ll do the Kindness first then I can get dropped off,’ Kristi says politely, pursing her lips and nodding at Zhang then at Sun and Po and Yasmine as they all fall into silence.

‘Question,’ Po says as they all look at her. ‘Where did this shuttle come from? Everyone was asking when Abdul took it out that day.’

‘We kinda stole it,’ Yasmine says.

‘Oh,’ Po says as though that’s entirely normal.

‘The Six made it break mid-flight on the way back from the Beijing,’ Zhang says. ‘So, you know, we impounded it.’

‘And then we stole it,’ Yasmine adds.

‘Oh,’ Po says again.

‘Yassy’s good at stealing things,’ Sun says with a wicked glint in her eye. ‘Shuttles. Codes . . . kisses,’ she adds as Po and Dilly laugh while Sven tries to cover his.

‘So are you two gay now then?’ Sun asks, relishing the discomfort she’s causing.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ Yasmine groans.

‘Sun,’ Zhang says, shooting her a look as Kristi lowers her head.

‘It’s fine!’ Sun says. ‘Sexuality isn’t binary. I’ve been with girls.’

‘Yeah, I have too actually,’ Po admits.

‘See. We’re all fluid,’ Sun says. ‘But yeah. Cheating is still cheating,’ she adds, trailing her voice off into another hard silence.

‘Okay, I am sorry for any pain I have caused,’ Kristi says. ‘But, in my defence, I changed my fucking hair, Zhang! And you didn’t notice.’

‘Zhang!’ Po says, slapping his arm.

‘And you literally never asked me once how my day was,’ Kristi adds.

‘Zhang!’ Po says, hitting him again.

‘So, how’s your day now?’ Sun asks her, earning laughs from the others, even Yasmine giving a snort.

‘I’m sorry,’ Zhang says.

‘Don’t,’ Kristi snaps. ‘And calling Carla right after I messaged you?’

‘I said I was sorry!’

‘Fucking sleazy,’ Kristi mutters, turning away.

‘Sure. I’m sleazy. I’ll take that all day long, but you still kissed Yassy in the fucking Shades.’

‘Wasn’t just the Shades, pal,’ Kristi fires back at him. ‘We nearly kissed in the back room of the Hocus Pocus on the sofa. So fuck you!’

‘Jesus,’ Yasmine says. ‘Really, Kristi?’

‘Well! Fuck him being all righteous. And it was only a kiss,’ Kristi snaps at Zhang. ‘We didn’t do anything else.’

‘Well. It was a lot of kissing,’ Yasmine says.

‘Kissing is still cheating,’ Sun says.

‘Fact,’ Po says, holding her hand up for a high-five with Sun.

‘Definitely!’ Dilly calls from the front.

‘Whatever,’ Yasmine says.

‘Yeah. Whatever,’ Kristi adds as the cabin falls into silence again.

‘Have you apologised to Sam yet?’ Sun asks, frowning at Yasmine.

‘What! He masturbated with Linda Lick-Up!’

‘Are you being serious right now?’ Sun snaps at her. ‘How many times did you turn him on then freeze up? Jesus, Yassy. Sam’s a fucking saint compared to you lot. And he didn’t masturbate with Linda. He masturbated to porn before Linda called him to ask him to fix a glitch.’

‘How do you know?’ Yasmine asks.

‘Because I asked him if he was okay!’ Sun says. ‘I love you to bits, Yasmine, but you can be a complete cunt sometimes.’

‘Hey!’ Kristi says. ‘Yassy went through hell when she was younger.’

‘We all did!’ Sun shouts back at her. ‘My brother was killed outside our cabin in the Hutongs. But a shit childhood isn’t an excuse to inflict misery on others and there’s this amazing new thing the kids are doing called therapy. It prevents you transferring your shit onto other people. And you can fuck off too, Kristi. How did you end up with Zhang in the first place? Not trying to seduce him to cover a story? No? Not being a cunt either?’

‘Sun,’ Zhang says.

‘Get some morals,’ Sun snaps at him and the others. ‘And get some fucking therapy before you hurt anyone else. You know what you should do? You three should just live together and blame each other. Oh, I had a bad childhood. Oh, I’m a sex addict. Oh. I’m a lonely famous reporter.’

Silence again. Awkward and heavy.

‘Anyway,’ Sun says. ‘It’s done. Get over it because a lot of people will die if we don’t do our jobs and catch this guy. We all cool? We all good? Zhang?’

He nods. Shame in his cheeks.

‘Kristi?’

‘Yep,’ she says tightly, giving a nod.

‘Yassy?’ Sun asks and Yasmine nods too.

‘Jesus. This is nuts,’ Kristi says with a blast of air. ‘How’s your head anyway?’ she asks, nodding at Yasmine’s forehead.

‘Sore.’

‘How did He end up doing it?’ Zhang asks.

‘Yassy took me down to show me the Shades and He picked her out,’ Kristi says. ‘Never seen anything like it. Have you seen it? Her tattoo I mean?’

‘Only briefly,’ Zhang says as Kristi flicks on a UV light, bringing the inkwork to life on Yasmine’s forehead and temples.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Zhang says.

‘It is,’ Po admits with a nod. ‘Stunning work.’

‘Anyway,’ Yasmine says, waving at Kristi to kill the light as she looks up to see the hull of the Kindness looming large as they fly in ready to dock. ‘Can we keep the whole kiss thing between us please? Elforists are the worst gossips in the fleet.’

‘We’re docking!’ Sven calls as the docking port lights turn green for go and the shuttle comes in fast alongside. ‘Okay. Good luck.’

‘We’ll catch you later,’ Yasmine says to Kristi as the door unseals.

‘What? No kiss?’ Sun asks with a grin, setting Po off again. ‘You can kiss me, Kristi. I’m single,’ she adds, darting in to kiss Kristi’s cheek. ‘Don’t be offended. I’m outspoken.’

‘Just go,’ Kristi says, smiling at her energy as the others head out and run straight into a cleaner staring in interest at the strange shuttle that just docked.

‘Yassy!’ the cleaner says on seeing Yasmine.

‘Pooky!’ Yasmine says with a grin. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m alright. Glad I got out of the Elfors, but I’m missing it with all this stuff going on. I said to my Barry we should go back.’

‘You should! Dil would take you on,’ Yasmine says. ‘Anyway. We need to get on.’

‘Alright, Yassy. Nice seeing you. And here, you’re with that Kristi Carter now aren’t you? Eh? She’s a looker. You done alight there, love.’

‘What the fuck!’ Yasmine snaps. ‘How did you know?’

‘Sven the Pipe told his Janey who told Dorka. She’s my cousin, ain’t she.’

‘FUCKING SVEN!’ Yasmine shouts.

‘Oh shit. Time to go,’ Sven says, swiping the button to seal the door with a last look at Yasmine giving him the bird through the port hole window as the shuttle drops away and turns back towards the Humility.

36

It’s all this stuff with Yasmine. It’s got into his head. Sam blasts air from his nose in frustration. His eyes flick to the captain’s chair and the consoles surrounding the desks as though they represent the Humility’s mainframe, with a faint nagging in his skull telling him that’s where the answer lies.

But he can’t put his finger on it. Nor does he know what’s truly bothering him. Only that something is.

It’s Yasmine’s fault. She’s messed his life up.

But he knows that’s neither right nor fair. It just is what it is. And he knows deep in his heart that Yasmine tried with him. If anything, he was the one saying they shouldn’t do anything and maybe they could find some therapy for her. But time rolled on and things like life happened and they never did it, and now she’s kissed Kristi and Sam is simultaneously pissy as hell while also feeling really happy for her.

Damn it! There it is again with thoughts about Yasmine taking up his headspace when he needs to figure this out.

Po seems nice though. She’s smart too. That was obvious. And she was right when she said who cares where the killer has been. They only need to know where he is now.

Oh shit.

Something there.

About what she said.

It’s resonating.

But why?

Another call coming in. He curses in frustration and swipes to answer Zhang’s incoming holo, Po, Yasmine and Sun standing beside him.

‘Sam, we’re next to a security door on the Kindness. Can you hack it and run the search?’

Sam nods, running the search while frowning and looking back at the Humility consoles then over to the golden and red lines. Then back to Po looking at him through the feed.

‘Sam?’ Yasmine asks, seeing his expression. ‘What’s up? What’s wrong?’

But Sam doesn’t answer. He just stares and thinks and tries to clear his mind, but his bloody mind won’t clear.

‘Sam!’ Yasmine asks again.

‘Do you love her?’ he blurts.

‘What?’ Yasmine asks.

‘Sam, not now buddy,’ Zhang says.

‘Yeah. Sure. Not fucking now,’ Sam says, making them all flinch at him swearing, because Sam never uses that word.

‘You need to deal with this,’ Sun says, detaching the feed to give it to Yasmine.

‘The killer!’ Zhang hisses.

‘Fuck you!’ Sun snaps. ‘Give them two minutes,’ she adds, pushing Yasmine away as they stand next to a large crowd on the Kindness near the entrance to the VR Arena. A vast holo room used for gaming competitions. The PUBG Grand Fleet Final underway with Erangel set as the map.

Sam clocks where they are from the background and feels a weird rush of nostalgia for the simplicity of his old life. That he got to go home every evening and play VR PUBG and other games. No stress. No fuss. No pain.

But there was no anything else either. There was nothing. His life was empty.

‘I’m sorry, Sam,’ Yasmine says into the call. Her dark eyes looking into his. Pain in her features. Real pain and regret and sorrow. ‘It just happened. I don’t know how or why. But we only kissed. No. Hang on. That’s not fair because a kiss is still cheating.’ She falls silent. Trying to think of what to say as Sam looks at the girl he thought was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He feels a rush of jealousy that she wasn’t with him when she got her face tattooed. ‘I don’t love Kristi,’ she adds, looking directly at him. ‘I love you, Sam. But I’m broken. I’m so fucking broken,’ she says with tears falling down her cheeks. ‘I think about you, and I want you. I get horny. I get turned on. But when we do anything . . . I just . . . I can’t . . . And I hate myself. I fucking hate myself. And there’s that scanner in the cabin that can check my head or whatever and I keep telling myself to do it, but I’m scared it’ll say I’m broken forever and then there’s no hope left.’ She falls silent. Wiping tears away. ‘You’re the most decent person I’ve ever met, and I am so sorry that I hurt you.’

Sam nods. Listening to her intently.

‘And if I knew how to fix this I would. But I don’t know where my head is right now. I don’t know what we should do or where we should go. I just know that I’ve made you unhappy and I don’t want you to be in that place. You deserve happiness and being somewhere you want to be.’

Sam nods. His eyes wide. His heart thudding.

‘But I do love you, Sam. And for what it’s worth, I’ve never told anyone I love them. And I just found out Abdul is my father, and my head is like . . . just spinning but then I cried with Helga and that’s a good thing, right? It means I can . . . Sam! Are you even listening to me?’

‘Sorry, what?’ he asks, blinking back at her. ‘Great! Glad you’re okay though,’ he adds as her mouth falls open. ‘Gotta go!’

‘Sam!’ she calls.

‘We need the search!’ Zhang shouts as the call cuts out with Sam swiping to end the feed on the bridge. His brain fizzing. His eyes rotating as though on stalks as he spots the search results coming back from the report he just ran on the door scanners on the Kindness, and he swipes to send the data to Zhang then steps away from his screens to stand in the middle of the room.

* * *

‘What the hell,’ Yasmine says as the others look at her.

‘Yeah, but he does get like that,’ Sun says. ‘You know he does.’

Yasmine sags then shrugs, knowing Sun is right. ‘At least I said sorry,’ she says as Zhang’s system beeps and he brings up the search results sent by Sam.

‘There!’ Zhang says as the first one pops out from a ping registering the cannibalising code when the killer stepped off the shuttle. Then more pings appear tracking a route to the stairwell and up through a security door to an adult-only gaming section on Level 5, then over to another stairwell and up higher to Level 1. ‘Got him! He’s going for Sully!’ Zhang says, shutting down the feeds as all four begin to sprint for the nearest stairwell.

* * *

On the Humility bridge, Sam stares at nothing. His mind so close to grasping the thing screaming in the back of his head. Footsteps sound up the stairs and Kristi runs out onto the bridge. ‘Sam! You okay?’

He holds a hand up to cut her off, a flicker of irritation at being disturbed and she comes to a stop. Staring at him staring at the red line.

‘Where are we?’ he asks.

She frowns. Edging closer. ‘We’re on the bridge, Sam.’

‘No. Where are we,’ he says again, clearly meaning the red line.

She shrugs. Not knowing what to say as Sam’s mind fills with the words Yasmine said to him.

I don’t want you to be in that place. You deserve happiness and being somewhere you want to be.

Po said something too. Who cares where he’s been. We need to know where he is now.

But how does anyone know where they are?

‘They look,’ he says, snapping his head over to the windows to see the fleet that looks static even though every ship is moving at an incredible speed. And there it is. He can see exactly where they are, and the smile starts to spread.

‘What?’ Kristi asks softly as he turns to look at her.

‘I’m such a twat,’ he says with an eager nod. ‘We know exactly where we are!’

* * *

‘Why wasn’t I called first!’ Hamsin Refrain shouts at Helga in Fei’s quarters. ‘I am the Vice-Captain of this vessel! If Fei is indisposed, then I take over. That is very clear, and neither you nor Abdul have any power here!’

‘This is not acceptable!’ The Chastity chief of police yells at Abdul, having received a call from someone very high up in the police equipment and training supply system that strongly suggested Abdul and Helga be removed from the ship immediately. ‘You will leave right now!’

‘Or?’ Abdul asks quietly, staring into his eyes.

‘Or I will remove you,’ the chief states, glaring back at him.

‘Do it,’ Abdul urges. ‘Go on. Do what your master tells you, and I’ll give the word for every single Elforist on this ship to tear it apart. Their time is up. They don’t control us, and they will not win this.’

* * *

‘I did what you said!’ Sully Singh says, sobbing the words out while tied to a chair in his quarters on Level 1. Tears streaming down his cheeks. His eyes wide with terror. ‘I DID WHAT YOU SAID!’ he screams out as the blade slides into the soft skin between the ribs of his wife strapped to the chair opposite. Her mouth gagged with plain old-fashioned sticky tape applied by Hector Baptiste, once more in his AI white killing suit. ‘Please!’ Sully gasps, his voice cracking low and broken with fear as he watches the blade going in. ‘What do you want? WHAT DO YOU WANT?’

‘Nothing,’ Hector replies honestly. ‘Nothing at all,’ he adds, driving the blade in as Mrs Singh stiffens. Then he pulls the blade out and feels the rush as the blood sprays hard across the room into Sully’s face. ‘Ah. I got the artery. See. It takes skill to do that,’ he says as Sully spits out his wife’s blood.

* * *

‘We do?’ Kristi asks on the bridge of the Humility when Sam grins and says they know exactly where they are.

‘Honestly. I’m such a twat! The bloody ship knows. The bloody ship has always known.’

‘Known what?’ Kristi asks as Sam runs to his screens and his keyboard, swiping them all away to bring one solitary screen up as Kristi goes closer. Seeing codes and lines of binary scrolling at speed and icons springing up to glow in the air. ‘What is that?’ she asks.

‘That’s the Humility,’ he says with a smile at the icons in the air. ‘She’s been alive this whole time. Quietly watching and recording everything,’ he adds in a whisper. ‘Which means she knows exactly where we are . . .’

* * *

Yasmine, Sun, Po and Zhang hit the stairs and start up.

They pay no heed to the angry shouts and cries of the people they push aside because they know where he is. The man that killed Mahatma. The man that killed Stella. The man that killed Ugly Frank and Bitch-Faced Angie.

The man that killed Armani and her unborn son.

The man that started this whole thing off.

They’ve got him.

‘Door!’ Zhang gasps, seeing the Level 5 security door ahead blocking them off. ‘I’ll call Sam.’

‘No,’ Yasmine says, breathing hard. ‘He’s put it on my band,’ she adds, pressing it to the scanner that switches from red for no to green for go and they charge through and on.

* * *

‘Are you threatening me?’ the chief of police asks, glowering at Abdul.

‘No. I am promising you,’ Abdul replies while a few feet away, the Chastity VC Hamsin Refrain stands in front of Helga.

‘I am demanding you leave my ship right now and follow the correct diplomatic channels.’

‘No,’ she says simply.

‘This isn’t a request!’ he snaps then makes the mistake of stepping closer, which prompts Olga and Ivan to move in as Hamsin startles and looks up at two very gnarly faces snarling at him.

* * *

Sam starts punching into the icons. Smiling as he does so at the sheer delight of having a worldship’s mainframe alive right in front of him. And that’s exactly how it feels. That she’s waking up from a long sleep, but she kept one eye open the whole time. Watching everything and taking it all in. Recording their data, and Sam didn’t need to go through it code by code at all.

He just needed to find the navigational system to see where they are now.

Such a simple thing, and so simple that he just couldn’t think of it. But he finds the system and dives into the beautiful world of programs and data and there it is.

Their exact location. Not that it means anything to him. But he has it. Right there. In gorgeous code that he copies and pastes into his re-programmed system which extrapolates the data and sends it to the holographic optics which in turn make the red line and the white glowing dots shoot off down the bridge with a ziggety zaggity motion until they come to a sudden stop.

‘That’s it!’ Sam says, running after it. ‘That’s where we are right now. She knew it all along. The Humility’s been watching over us this whole time cos the dumb shits never switched her mainframe off. Eh? You beauty!’ he calls while running back to kiss a console. ‘And that means if her mainframe is on, then her probes are too.’

‘She can see what’s out there,’ Kristi says, suddenly getting what he means.

He turns to smile at her with every sour notion of what she and Yasmine did now gone from his mind, and he nods with his eyes shining. ‘Shall we have a look?’ he asks.

* * *

Captain Sully Singh drops his head, blood dripping from his nose. Not his blood. His wife’s blood.

His wife that now slumps dead in the chair in front of him. Stabbed repeatedly by a freak long after she spasmed and fell silent and still.

‘Yeah, that was good,’ Hector gasps, drunk on the lust of the kill. ‘She was good. Really good. I enjoyed it.’

Sully doesn’t speak. There’s nothing to say. His life is over. He knows that. Helga opposed the Six. She killed one of them then declared war and now the Six have to kill him and he has no doubt that Carlos will be next, if he isn’t dead already.

‘Right. Your turn I guess,’ the quiet man says, relishing the idea of a second kill. ‘Let’s see if you’re any better than your wife.’

* * *

Zhang, Po, Yasmine and Sun run fast through the adult-only Level 5 gaming section where players can kill and fuck anything they want in richly developed VR worlds and holo suits. A vicious place filled with seedy men playing out dark fantasies, but also the highest-earning part of the ship.

Another door ahead. Another stairwell beyond. They burst through and start up, gasping for air and aiming for the Level 1 security door at the very top.

* * *

‘Shall we have a look?’ Sam asks on the Humility bridge as Kristi nods, her heart thrilling at the thought of it.

He turns back to the icons and reactivates the mainframe, every console on the bridge lighting up as power is restored.

‘Oh my god!’ Kristi says as the workstations around them come to life. But the gasps keep coming as the area in front of the captain’s chair and all the consoles, an area that Sam thought was dead space from poor design, comes to life with holographic optics bringing up a 3-D view of the fleet and every vessel flying in formation.

All of them right there. All of them as seen by the Humility’s own powerful array of sensors and probes giving the exact location of every single worldship, shuttle, and satellite in the fleet.

What a thing to see, and the pleasure shows on both of their faces as they take it in, while Sam uses the controls to pivot the formation and zoom in and out. Then he hits another button and the area in front of the fleet goes dark with a representation of the space they are flying into.

Except it’s not just space in front of the fleet.

There’s something else too, and the smile fades fast and right there, Sam Gablinski realises why the fleet moved that day.

Because the Six needed to put them in the path of that.

* * *

They hit the Level 1 security door on the Kindness, Yasmine using her hacking software to override the door so they can burst through and run with a yell of alarm at a team of dark-suited men and women stepping out from a side room on hearing them.

‘Police, move!’ Zhang orders, hoping his cop voice will do the trick, but of course it doesn’t. He’s not a cop here and they don’t know him. And even if they did, they wouldn’t move. Not after letting the quiet man slip through because they’re all on nice retainers paid from strange companies ultimately funded by the Six.

And so they step out to block them while reaching for Taser pistols and voltage sticks. Zhang curses and whips his Taser pistol out from the holster to fire while Po does the same as Yasmine and Sun tug the Elfor resin knuckles over their hands.

The two sides meet without another word being spoken, and as big and scary as the Level 1 security team are, they’re not as practised and experienced and dirty as Zhang, Yassy and Sun, who slam into them with vicious hits. Driving them down fast and hard, and even Po flinches at the brutal violence – while inside the end quarters, those being the quarters of Captain Sully Singh, Hector Baptiste slowly slides the point of the blade into Sully’s right thigh.

‘Almost there,’ he says with relish as Sully gasps with pain then jolts with another surge of pure agony. ‘There it is. Hurts, doesn’t it,’ Hector says eagerly. ‘But the best is yet to come. Ready?’ he asks and pulls the blade out fast as a jet of blood spurts from the tiny wound like a mini-fountain. ‘See! How pretty is that?’ he asks as a noise reaches him from outside. A thump. A bump. A strangled yelp and he turns to stare at the door, his head cocked.

* * *

And on the Chastity, Vice-Captain Refrain’s face shows absolute outrage at the two Elfor goons daring to snarl at him on his own ship.

‘You have thirty seconds to leave this room before I have you both arrested,’ he says as the chief of police glares at Abdul, while behind them several cops nervously finger their voltage sticks.

‘You counting or me?’ Abdul asks, pushing a hand into his pocket to push the Elfor resin knuckles on while Helga smiles at the Chastity VC and reaches back to grip the handle of the flexi-pipe sticking out of her waistband.

‘We’ll let them count,’ she says. ‘It is their ship, after all.’

* * *

‘What are those?’ Kristi asks on the bridge of the Humility, on seeing the holographic view of the space in front of the fleet.

‘That’s why we moved,’ Sam says into the charged air as he steps out from the console to walk through the visual representation of the fleet towards the objects ahead.

The objects coming towards them.

Hundreds of them.

Thousands.

‘To put us in the way of those meteors,’ Sam adds as the blood seems to chill in Kristi’s veins. She steps over to Sam and moves to the first swathe of meteors then tracks the trajectory with her hand as she walks backwards – all the way through the Virtue fleet.

All four ships.

All of them in the path of the meteors.

‘You were right. The fleet moved,’ she whispers. ‘And Helga was wrong. They won’t ram us together. That’s all four ships, Sam. They’re going to kill us all. Don’t just stand there! Do something! Move us out of the bloody way or something.’

Move them out of the way?

How would he do that?

He’s not a pilot.

Oh shit.

But Sven is.

He swipes to make a call as Sven’s gnarly face blooms up with a grin. ‘Sam! You okay?’

‘SVEN WE NEED YOU!’ Sam shouts as Sven’s face sharpens instantly.

‘Back to the Humility,’ he snaps at Dilly. ‘GET US BACK TO THE FUCKING HUMILITY!’ Sven roars and swipes his band to make his own call. ‘BRIDGE. LEVEL 1. GET TO SAM!’ he shouts at Janey.

‘Sam needs help!’ Janey yells in the Level 1 offices as Penny, Jorgey and everyone else sprint for the door, to the corridor and to the bridge.

‘Sam! We’re docking again now!’ Sven yells into the call as Dilly slams the Shuttle 1 home into the Level 5 docking port and hits to open the door, both him and Sven wrenching free of their seats to run through the tunnel and out, sprinting fast to the stairwell as Penny leads the rest up the stairs onto the bridge.

‘SAM!’ she yells out as the others show surprise at the consoles lit up and the holographic view of the fleet.

‘What the hell is that?’ Jorgey asks, seeing the meteors.

‘They’re coming straight at us,’ Kristi explains quickly. ‘Sam’s got control of the mainframe. He saw the whole fleet being moved a few days ago. They’ve put us right in the path of that meteor shower. All four Virtue ships are going to be taken out. They’re going to kill us all!’

* * *

‘Don’t do this,’ Vice-Captain Refrain says, staring at Helga.

‘Fuck you,’ Helga says, her eyes locked on his. ‘The Six will not take this ship.’

‘They’re not the Six,’ Abdul says. ‘We killed one already. They’re only the Five.’

‘I warned you,’ VC Refrain says, trying to sound bold and brave but unable to hide the tremor in his voice as he turns to give the order. ‘Arrest them!’

Except he doesn’t quite finish, as Helga whips the pipe out to slam into the back of his knee, making him cry out and drop as Abdul’s right fist comes up and out with a blur to connect with the police chief’s nose. Breaking it instantly and sending him stumbling as Abdul steps in with a vicious headbutt.

‘Stand down!’ Helga orders, pointing her flexi-pipe at the faltering officers. ‘Do not be a part of this.’

‘Don’t do it lads,’ Abdul says. ‘These two putas work for those Gods. They’ll kill your captain.’

Uncertainty shows on their faces as their voltage sticks crackle and whine.

‘Arrest them!’ VC Refrain gasps, crawling away with a broken leg. ‘Arrest them or by God you’ll be locked in with the Elfors!’

* * *

‘SAM!’ Sven yells, pounding up the stairs to see someone opening the door to Level 1. He gets through and runs to the bulkhead doors then pounds up the stairs with Dilly on his heels. The two of them bursting onto the bridge to see the others there with Sam and Kristi.

‘He’s okay!’ Penny says, seeing the murderous look in Sven’s eye at the thought someone had attacked Sam.

‘Sven! Look,’ Sam shouts as Sven rushes over, both he and Dilly crying out at the sight of the meteor shower rapidly closing in. ‘What do we do?’ Sam asks.

Sven reels back, remembering his training and the first rule of collision avoidance that was drummed into every pilot and he turns to look at Dilly, both saying the same thing at the same time. ‘We need to burn.’

* * *

The door to Captain Sully Singh’s quarters on Level 1 of the worldship Kindness slides open and Zhang sweeps in first, his Taser pistol up and aimed. Po behind him doing the same. Yassy and Sun with Taser pistols and voltage sticks taken from the guards now lying unconscious behind them.

Two people in the room. Two people strapped to chairs. Sully’s wife butchered with multiple stab wounds.

Sully dead with his head hanging down, but with only a few stab wounds, the fatal injury caused by his throat being cut and Zhang nods. Reading the scene and what it means.

‘He’s still in here,’ he says as the others hold their aim up and ready. ‘Po. Hold the door with Sun. Yassy, with me,’ Zhang says, striding out as they start checking behind the games unit and places to hide. The stench of death in the air from two more people murdered.

But they’ll be the last.

Because they’ve got the killer trapped.

* * *

‘We need to burn out of here!’ Sven says.

‘How?’ Dilly asks. ‘We’re locked into the Ark mainframe. They’ll need to do it.’

‘No! We’ve got control,’ Sam says. ‘The Humility is ours. We can fly it from here.’

‘We don’t need to fly it. We need to burn the shit out of here,’ Dilly says, running over to get into the captain’s chair with a swipe at the armrest, bringing virtual controls and icons glowing up in front of him as Penny makes an urgent call.

‘Captain!’ she says when Helga answers, clutching her flexi-pipe and facing off against the officers in Fei’s quarters. ‘The Six have moved the fleet into the path of a meteor strike. It’s coming right at us!’

‘How long?’ Helga asks immediately.

‘Minutes at most,’ Dilly says calmly.

‘Minutes at most,’ Penny relays. ‘Dilly’s working out how to move us.’

‘We can move the Chastity too!’ Sam calls out. ‘I just need access to the bridge. I can detach their mainframe from the Ark.’

‘We need Fei on the bridge,’ Helga orders as Abdul nods and strides past her into Fei’s bedroom to see Tatiana standing ready to protect Fei’s sleeping form with an Elfor shiv in her hands. ‘I need her,’ Abdul says, trying to rouse Fei who grumbles and stays asleep, too drowsy to wake properly. ‘Wake her up!’ Abdul orders.

‘She no wake. Is drugged.’

‘Fuck it!’ Abdul snaps then grabs his small flask to pour Elfor Juice into Fei’s mouth. She coughs but swallows a little and he bends to lift her over his shoulder and runs out of the room. ‘Olga, Ivan. If those cops don’t move kill them all!’

Ivan and Olga steam out with the police beating a retreat as Abdul runs past, Helga leading the way to the bridge doors.

And on the Humility, Dilly winces and curses as he frantically tries to remember how to use this system. ‘Alarms!’ he says, seeing an icon he recognises. ‘Do you want them on?’

‘Yes!’ Helga shouts, the call still open.

‘Yes!’ Penny relays as Dilly hits the alarm. Sending a signal throughout the whole ship with lights coming up full and every advert in the retail zone ceasing with a loud, penetrating automated voice speaking out.

Brace for impact. Brace for impact. Get down on the floor. Brace for impact.

‘We’re on the bridge!’ Helga calls into the open feed as the bulkhead door opens, Abdul pounding up the stairs with Fei over his shoulder, her form starting to struggle and kick from the Elfor Juice. She tumbles from his shoulder, crying out in alarm.

‘Fei!’ Helga says, rushing to her side. ‘Listen to me! We need access to the bridge.’

Fei tries to focus. Swimming in and out of consciousness and reality.

‘Fei! There is a meteor strike coming straight at us! Give me control of the bridge!’ Helga shouts as Fei nods dumbly and swipes her band to open her system.

Helga snatches it up and adds herself as a primary user. ‘Sam! I’m in Fei’s system. I’m pinging you now.’

‘Got it,’ Sam says, seeing the incoming connection. He opens it quickly and delves into Fei’s system, and through her, into the bridge and the Chastity mainframe. A system exactly the same as the Humility, and a few seconds later the bridge comes to life with consoles lighting up around them.

‘The bridge is up!’ Helga relays.

‘The Chastity bridge is up!’ Penny says, detaching Helga’s feed to make it large enough for everyone to see the bridge coming to life.

‘Sam. Get remote access to the chair,’ Dilly orders. ‘It has primary controls Sven can use.’

‘Me? I can’t use them,’ Sven says.

‘Do it!’ Dilly orders calmly as Sam hacks and searches and finds the access point and Colin grabs Sven and plonks him down into a co-pilot’s seat. A second later the icons and controls flash to life in front of Sven, mirroring those in front of Dilly.

‘What do I do?’ Sven asks.

‘Alarms first,’ Dilly says. ‘Sven! Look at me. You’ve got this. Press what I press.’

‘Okay,’ Sven says, following his movements, hitting the button, and on the Chastity, every screen and every music player cuts off and that same warning system kicks in.

Brace for impact. Brace for impact. Get down on the floor. Brace for impact.

‘The alarms are activated,’ Helga says.

‘We need to move!’ Kristi says, seeing the holographic meteors rapidly closing in on the ships, and she runs to look through the window.

‘They’re too far off for the naked eye,’ Dilly says. His tone even. His voice calm. His eyes searching for controls.

‘Which way do you want to burn?’ Sven asks.

‘Go up!’ Kristi says. ‘The density is less at the top,’ she adds, running back to the meteor shower.

‘How the hell do you know about this stuff?’ Penny asks her.

‘I did educational podcasts for years,’ Kristi says. ‘Seriously! Go up.’

‘There is no up. We’re in space,’ Sven says.

‘If the lady said up then up we shall go,’ Dilly says. ‘Sven, we need bow burners first to lift the front.’

‘I can’t see any burners!’ Sven says.

‘Look for them,’ Dilly says.

‘Guys!’ Kristi calls, staring at that closing gap as Helga and Abdul gasp at their own visual representation showing on the Chastity’s bridge. ‘GUYS!’

‘I’ve got side thrusters!’ Sven says.

‘No good. We need to go up,’ Dilly says. ‘But show me . . . Where?’

‘Here?’ Sven says, showing him which controls to access.

‘Got it,’ Dilly says as everyone else spots the tiny gap now between the fleet and the meteors.

‘I can see them!’ Colin shouts, seeing a tiny far-off blob coming towards them at speed. ‘We need to move!’

‘Looking,’ Dilly says.

‘Fuck me,’ Colin says, stepping away from the windows as Helga and Abdul stare out on the Chastity.

‘Well. We gave it a good run,’ Helga calls out. ‘Been a pleasure, ladies and gentlemen!’

‘Don’t write us off yet,’ Dilly says as he punches another icon. ‘Sven. This icon!’

‘Got it!’ Sven says, punching in to see the buttons for the burners.

‘Underside front bow. Max power.’ Dilly says. ‘Punch it!’

A roar. A vibration, and the front underside bow burners fire on max. Lighting blue with both bridges seeing the others and how they alone, from the whole fleet, lift their noses and up they go. Tilting to gain angle as Dilly holds them on and everyone else looks to the meteors coming in fast.

‘INCOMING!’ Colin roars, ducking as the first meteor flies past, only feet from the bridge window, shooting harmlessly between the ships. But then more come. More and more on both sides. Small and big and all flying so very fast and so very silently.

‘NOW, SVEN!’ Dilly roars. ‘AFT BURNERS!’

‘BRACE BRACE BRACE!’ Sven and Dilly shout as one as they kill the underside bow burners and give every ounce of energy to the big aft burners. All of them lighting blue with such thrust that even through the incredible engineering and G-force dampeners everyone on both ships feels the thrust with objects sliding backwards. Plates and beakers go flying. Kids slide over slippery floors. People scream out at the sensation. All of them shouting and repeating the words drilled into them during their school years:

‘BRACE BRACE BRACE!’

‘COME ON!’ Dilly roars, urging their ships to move as the meteors fly past, one smacking a long antenna away outside the Humility bridge windows, making the meteor spin and change course, striking into another with those spinning off, gaining momentum and slamming into the hull of the Kindness. Smashing a section apart, sending the people and furniture inside spinning into space.

‘What the fuck was that?’ Yasmine shouts as they slowly search Sully’s quarters, all four jolting and flying to the floor from a huge impact shaking the whole ship. Then another comes and another as small meteors slam through the hull, fracturing sections as internal bulkheads slam closed on breached sections. Sacrificing the few to save the many.

The lights dim and shudder as the hits keep coming and the automated voice kicks in from the alarms detecting the impacts.

Brace for impact. Brace for impact. Get down on the floor. Brace for impact.

They cry out and share looks as objects in Sully’s cabin fly off to land around them and both of the bodies strapped in chairs slam over onto their sides as a figure darts out from a side room and runs for the door.

‘THERE!’ Zhang shouts over the alarm, twisting to fire shots with Po doing the same, the barbs hitting the white AI suit that takes the charge and protects the wearer.

Then he’s out and running. The quiet man running once more along a corridor as the floor seems to shake and tremble.

All four give chase. Firing pistols and yelling. But Hector runs fast. Yasmine swipes to call Sam.

‘Yasmine!’ he shouts, clinging on in the Humility, meteors flying by only inches from their sides and windows.

‘What is that?’ Yasmine asks.

‘Meteor strike. Just hold on. We’re pulling up!’ Sam says.

‘We’re taking hits!’

‘She said they’re taking hits,’ Sam calls out, getting to his feet to see out the window that the Chastity looks untouched. Then he checks the holographic ships showing on the bridge and cries out on seeing the Kindness being struck. ‘Yasmine! Where are you?’

‘On the Kindness! We’re right behind the killer.’

‘Oh shit,’ Kristi mouths, seeing the same thing as she gets to her feet. ‘Dilly! You have to get them off.’

‘I’ve got to fly this!’ Dilly says.

‘Fuck!’ Kristi says. ‘Sam, help me look for a shuttle on the Kindness,’ she says, running over to the holographic display.

‘Call Nessy!’ Abdul shouts from the bridge of the Chastity.

‘That’s a good idea,’ Dilly says calmly, making the call.

‘What the fuck is happening?’ Nessy says as she answers.

‘Some puta flew us into a meteor shower. But listen, Yassy’s stuck on the Kindness. I’m flying these big ships. Do me a solid?’

‘On it! Find me a port to use,’ Nessy says, taking control of her cargo shuttle to flip over with an almighty burst of speed.

‘Go for 5,’ Dilly relays.

‘Roger. Get ’em ready cos I ain’t waiting around in that shit storm,’ Nessy says.

‘Yassy, it’s Penny. Get to the Level 5 port. Nessy’s coming for you.’

‘We need to get this puta!’ Yasmine shouts as they hit the stairs and go down, still on the heels of the killer.

‘Yassy! That ship is being split open,’ Penny says. ‘Get off now!’

‘Fuck!’ Yasmine says, as the others watch a huge meteor impact the front of the Kindness and score a long line down one side, ripping a length of the hull away with thousands of people and tons of debris spinning out into the freezing void of space.

They feel it inside too. Yasmine, Po, Sun, and Zhang as they spill from the stairs near the main gaming arena. Hector in front of them. Sprawling out from the impact as the lights flicker and the world around them shakes and trembles. Severing pipes with steam and water spraying out. Severing wiring looms, sparks glowing. Yasmine reacts first, used to the grav-drives failing in the Elfors, and she runs fast and dives to snag Hector’s ankle then brings her fist down hard on his shin, slamming the Elfor Knuckles into the bone.

He grunts and kicks back, getting a booted foot into her skull as the ship seems to tilt and the grav-drives fail and they fly up screaming, then plummet down as gravity returns. Hector scrambles to his feet and starts running.

‘Yassy! The shuttle,’ Sun says, seeing the violence in Yasmine’s face as she gives chase and sets off after him, the others on her heels, smashing into walls and firing useless barbs into Hector’s white suit.

Another impact comes, slamming Hector through a door into the large arena being used for the PUBG finals. The game still in play, the optics making the world around them look like the abandoned school in the middle of the Erangel map. Physical objects used to make walls with sprinklers overhead simulating rainfall.

Hector bundles over a wall through a broken window and runs through the empty classroom littered with dropped weapons, with sub-machine guns and assault rifles. All of them realistic, but laser firing only and worthless to anyone not logged into the game using a VR suit.

Zhang stays outside and runs down the length of the building. The rain soaking his face as players scream in panic and run past. Others hunker down in the brace position. Zhang spots Hector through a window and runs fast to get in front and through another window into a classroom and out the door to slam into Hector.

He reacts fast, flipping Zhang over his hip as Yasmine, Sun and Po all race towards him. But Hector spots a young man nearby and slits his throat, then runs on and stabs another, leaving chaos in his wake.

Zhang stops at the lad with his throat cut and tries to stem the blood as Yasmine and Po go to the other and clamp down on a spurting wound. But it’s too late and the ship takes the hits with deafening crashes and violent shakes as the optics finally cut out, leaving them in a barren giant green room filled with green shaped objects and a row of stabbed bodies between them and the door.

Blood everywhere from young gamers screaming in pain and fear as Yasmine gets to her feet and staggers from another impact then sets off, still intent on getting Hector.

‘No!’ Sun shouts, grabbing her wrist. ‘We’re not dying here! We need to go! YASSY!’

Yasmine spins around as Sun pulls her away. Reluctant to leave the ship, but they know they have no choice and they set off. Running for the door they came through and back through screaming crowds into the lanes and alleys as they aim for the Level 5 docking port.

Someone at the side. Three people cowering in fear as Yasmine spots Pooky and a man protecting a child. ‘POOKY!’ she yells out, heaving at her wrist. ‘WE’VE GOT A SHUTTLE!’

It’s all she can shout in the bedlam and noise, but it’s enough for Pooky to understand as she lifts her kid and shouts at her husband to move, with Zhang, Sun and Po urging them on. Screaming and yelling and falling and tripping as the ship lurches and the grav-drives switch off and on. Making them float and fall, but on they go.

Into an internal corridor with offices on the right side. A huge crash. A noise of gods and earthquakes. A noise bigger and deeper than anything they have ever heard or felt as a meteor hits the side of the ship. Tearing the hull out and smashing through the offices. The doors open and as one they scream as they watch the lump of rock spin past, moving at a blur as the rooms seem to explode into space. Desks and chairs. Plants and things, and people.

Human beings ripped from the floor where they were hiding. Human beings torn out from the suction to spin over and over into the freezing void of space. Dozens of them all within the beat of a heart – and that escaping air, a rush of violent wind that roars with power – picks them up like they are nothing more than synth straws, and Yasmine screams as Pooky’s husband is sucked through a doorway and cut nearly in half from the torn side of the vessel before he spins into space with globules of his blood and innards spraying out.

Pooky screams as she’s ripped off her feet and with nothing more than instinct she twists in the air, her face etched with determination she throws her child towards Sun. Sun screams and launches herself upwards, heedless of her own life. Heedless of anything other than grabbing that kid. Yasmine does the same, kicking off the twisting lurching side to slam into Sun’s legs to wrap and grip and hold on as Sun catches the child and Pooky is yanked away. Screaming as she grips the doorframe. Her legs pulling towards the broken hole in the hull. Then Yasmine feels something and looks down to see Po’s hands on her legs and Zhang anchored at the back with one hand gripping a pipe and the other holding Po’s ankle. His face straining from the exertion. His teeth bared. Po the same. All of them making noises that go unheard as Yasmine locks eyes on Pooky. The instant cold hitting them and the air blowing by so very quickly they can’t breathe.

Then the mainframe AI system detects the breach and slams the bulkhead door down. Ripping Pooky’s hand from the frame and she’s gone, out into space, with her child held by Sun as they all drop to the floor. Gasping and crying in pain and shock as they rally and scrabble to their feet to keep moving while whole chunks of the ship are ripped away, making the very frame around them shudder with deafening screeches of twisting metal. A supply water pipe snaps somewhere ahead, sending thousands of litres of water thundering down over them, ripping them off their feet as they fight to get back up and keep going.

Sparks cascade and the lights go out. Yasmine and Zhang swipe their bands to illuminate their surroundings, picking their way over dead bodies and broken walls, and still the ship rocks and tilts as the meteors slam into and through her.

‘There!’ Yasmine screams over the noise, her hand on Sun’s wrist while she holds onto the kid. The four of them wade and clamber as the grav-drives fail and everything floats up then spins over as the ship takes another hit. ‘Just ahead!’ Yasmine shouts, dragging Sun behind her in the weightless air as she kicks and fights and claws her way to the Level 5 docking tunnel, bucking and heaving as Nessy fights to keep the cargo ship pressed in tight. Burning her side thrusters and screaming at them to get the fuck inside and get the fuck down.

They stumble through as Nessy swipes to seal her door and works the controls, burning on and off and twisting and veering to avoid the spinning rocks coming at them.

And on the Humility, and the Chastity, they watch in horror as the shuttles docked to the Kindness and the Abstinence flee like rats from a sinking ship. Only for one large passenger shuttle to get struck and blown to pieces with hundreds killed instantly. Human forms spinning into space. Still alive and still screaming.

Nessy sees it happen. Grimacing as she slams through some of the bodies and punches harder, pushed back into her seat from the crushing G-force while those on the Humility and the Chastity look back to see the Kindness being ripped apart.

Thousands get pulled into space, and it keeps going until the ship starts breaking up, the life support systems failing. The lights go out and there is no more air.

Then the biggest meteor within the shower hits the Kindness in the bow. Blowing it apart. The biggest screams of all come when they watch the remains of the Kindness slam into the otherwise untouched Abstinence. Tearing some of the lower sections away. She takes more hits to her sides and underside, but withstands the onslaught as her bulkheads seal to protect the people inside – and it’s nothing less than a miracle that the Abstinence stays intact while the worldship Kindness is destroyed completely with over a million people killed instantly.

A million people killed because Helga dared touch one of theirs.

And now Helga stares through the window to the terrible sight of the Goliath vessel being torn apart, vast chunks of it spinning away so fast they’re already gone from view, because that’s the thing about space.

Everything is moving all the time, and nothing is ever still.

37

Everything is moving all the time.

Nothing is ever still.

But it doesn’t feel like that for Abdul on the Chastity bridge. Nor does it feel that way for the others on the Humility bridge. All of them filled with the same sense of loss and grief and confusion and pain. And powerlessness to stop it. A feeling of insignificance.

All of them except Helga, who knows that nothing in this universe is ever still and if she doesn’t act now, it will all get so very much worse.

* * *

Inside the mid-section Level 1 on the Ark, within a sprawling lair of luxury quarters, Joseph Phiri and Kaylee Shardakian, otherwise known as Shango and Venus, feel a weird thrilling sensation in their guts as they watch over one million people die while convincing themselves they deserved it because Helga didn’t do what she was expected to do.

‘I mean how dare she!’ Kaylee demands, a curvaceous woman of great beauty, treated and worshipped like the god she believes herself to be by Joseph. Himself one of the Six and one of the most powerful entities within the fleet.

Joseph nods, looking at the news feeds. ‘But how are they doing that?’ he asks on seeing the Humility and the Chastity flying out of formation as he swipes into their secure system and types a fast message to the other members.

How is that happening?

* * *

On the Vladivostok, Mikhail Papaev reads the message while tutting at a sloppy job because the plan was for all of the Virtue fleet to be taken out, but through nothing more than fluke the Abstinence has survived while the fucking Humility and Chastity must have disconnected from the Ark mainframe and gained control over their own propulsion. Which means they’ll have to take more action and so he swipes to type a reply.

Must have disconnected from Ark.

Suggest we send the Ab into them asap

* * *

Binita Bakshi, also known as Lakshmi, reads the message within her luxurious quarters on the WS Mumbai and sighs at the destruction and deaths. But it has to be this way because people are too stupid to be left to do things on their own. They must be led, and so lead she must. For their own good, and so she types her reply and hits send.

Agreed. We need to finish it.

Send the Ab into them.

* * *

Mei Ting reads the messages while watching the news footage. The Jade Emperor alone and sipping water from a plain glass tumbler, and one thing is for sure, Mei Ting did not underestimate Helga at all. But these steps must be taken and so she taps her virtual keys and hits send.

It will be done.

* * *

On the bridge of the Ark. The only bridge meant to be operational and in use because every other vessel is locked into their mainframe. Patricia Bronson, the Ark commander, sits in her central chair while all around her the staff calmly work their consoles and feeds.

Which is what they do every day.

However, today is not a normal day.

Because the Humility and the Chastity severed their connections, which they were not meant to do, and she looks at the holographic representation of the fleet and the astonishing sight of motion within an otherwise static-appearing armada of vessels, because not in the lifetime of any person on the bridge has any vessel broken formation, but it’s happening right now with the Humility and Chastity firing aft burners to fly up and away.

She can feel the tension on the bridge from the highly trained staff because this was not meant to happen, and she can feel them glancing at her, waiting for the order they know will be coming as Commander Bronson’s secure system vibrates with seven chilling words that make her stiffen.

You failed.

Send the Ab into them.

Commander Bronson grunts as a navigation code pings up behind it. A sequence of numbers, letters, and symbols that she detaches and sends to her Navigation Lieutenant. ‘Input and action it immediately.’

The lieutenant does as he’s told. Knowing what it means, but then they all do, because they all receive payments from hidden sources, which is why they were selected to work today and so without delay the Lieutenant copies the code into the mainframe and hits enter.

A code which sets to work recording the position and flight data of the Humility and Chastity as the Abstinence’s burners fire up blue and bright, making her pivot and turn and lift, positioning herself to ram into them both.

* * *

On the Chastity, Fei snaps her eyes open from the ringing slap across her cheeks and feels herself dragged to her feet. ‘Get up!’ Helga snarls. ‘Do your job!’

‘Armani,’ Fei whispers.

‘Armani’s dead and they’ve taken the Kindness out. They’ll kill us all, Fei! I need you awake!’

Fei reels from the news. Her heart beating hard as her vision finally focuses and she looks past Helga to the holographic display and the Kindness gone.

‘We’re flying your ship from the Humility. Keep this link open,’ Helga orders. ‘Dilly! We need a fast shuttle!’

‘I’ll get someone,’ he shouts as Helga and Abdul disappear down the Chastity stairs into the crowd of officials gathered in the corridor.

‘Get to your ports and prepare to receive injured!’ Abdul shouts. ‘Order your med services to action. Set up a triage point on your concourse and use the main arena as a field HQ and treatment centre! GO NOW!’

Helga and Abdul run for the stairs and down to Level 5. Helga needs to be on the Humility with her own people to try and stop what she knows will happen. And so she runs to reach the docking port as a shuttle slams into the side, the doors opening as the tunnel vents.

She gets in, running into the main compartment of the high-end luxury fast shuttle to behold a sea of terrified passengers.

‘Slim!’ Abdul says, rushing into the cockpit to clap a hand on the lean pilot’s shoulder. ‘Good to see you! Back to the Humility!’

‘For the cause,’ Slim mutters, detaching the tunnel and closing the door a split second before ramming the stick hard to turn fast, burners roaring and the shuttle scoring away into space as those inside grunt and whimper from the G-force pressure.

But not Helga. She simply grabs Ivan’s arm and clings on while swiping to make a call. ‘Penny! We’re coming to you. Is Kristi there?’

‘She’s here,’ Penny says as Helga’s feed blooms up.

‘Kristi! Go live right now! They’ll kill us all.’

‘What?’ Kristi asks, her mind overwhelmed, while something in her head tells her the danger has passed.

‘The Abstinence is firing burners!’ Dilly calls, snapping every head over. ‘She’s lifting!’

‘They’re going to ram us. Dilly!’ Helga shouts. ‘Take evasive action and whoever is flying this fucking shuttle make it go faster!’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Slim and Dilly say at the same time as Slim punches buttons for more power and Ivan reaches down to loop a hand around Helga’s waist, holding her in place as Kristi feels herself propelled across the bridge by Clara.

‘You need to focus now, sweetie or a lot more folk are gonna die today.’

‘Alright!’ Kristi snaps, breaking free to bring a camera up as she activates another emergency news bulletin. ‘You’re live!’

‘Listen to me!’ Helga says into the feed and into the camera as around her, and everywhere else in the fleet, her form blooms up.

‘This is an urgent call to the Abstinence! Somebody needs to find Captain Carlos Vanquith and get him to the bridge. You are being used to ram our ships. Carlos, you must call me . . .’

Nothing.

And inside the cargo shuttle, Yasmine and Zhang peer through the scratched window to the Abstinence burning towards them. Yasmine swipes her system to make a call.

‘Yassy! Where are you?’ Helga says as she and Zhang bloom up while still being recorded and broadcast live on the net and across the fleet.

‘With Nessy. They killed Sully and his wife before they took the Kindness out. They were stabbed to death.’

‘They’re moving the Ab to ram you!’ Zhang cuts in.

‘We know,’ Helga replies. ‘I’m calling for Carlos but he’s not responding.’

Yasmine nods. Their faces strained and bloodied and hurt. ‘Nessy! We need to get on board the Ab!’ she yells out.

‘You are fucking shitting me!’ Nessy cries, yanking her sticks as she turns on a dime, burners firing to blast back down towards the Abstinence as everyone on the Humility bridge rushes to see the battered cargo shuttle streaking away with a blast of blue.

‘Yassy! Stand down!’ Abdul orders. ‘We’ll find another way.’

‘What if you don’t?’ Zhang asks as Abdul’s face flushes with dark rage and Helga grimaces as she nods.

‘Get to that bridge and get Sam access to their mainframe,’ she orders.

‘We’re on it,’ Yasmine says, nodding into the feed. ‘But listen. Get the word out. Tell every Elforist in this fleet to arm up and stand by because those fucking Gods won’t stop until we’re all dead. They just killed a million people. Nobody else can stop them. They’ll keep killing us and everyone else. We’re the only thing left. Helga! You started this. You made an army to hold our position. So use us. Use your army. They’ll rally around you. Tell Ferdy. Tell Willy the Rake and Robby the Blind. Tell Twinkle Toes and Sally. Call Dil and Marko and Svetty and tell Faiza. You tell them those fucking putas killed Stella and Mahatma and Ugly Frank and Angie. You tell them they started this and everyone in this fleet is in danger and the only thing that can stop them is us.’

‘We’re coming in!’ Nessy roars.

‘We gotta go,’ Yassy says.

The feed cuts and a stunned silence falls across every part of the fleet. Stunned because of what just happened. And at the sight of Wild Yassy and Zhang Woo.

Yassy who took Dmitri down with Abdul.

But it wasn’t just them because Zhang was there too.

And it wasn’t just Yasmine that caught the rapists targeting Elfor girls.

It was Zhang too.

And it wasn’t just Yasmine that took Donna and Krakin out.

It was Zhang too.

It wasn’t just Yassy that brought freedom within the Elfors.

It was Zhang too. The only cop to ever set foot in the Elfors before it was freed.

And so, to them, he’s earned the right and the honour to be an Elfor.

And that silence holds until Helga looks into the feed and into the camera and by proxy out to the fleet and every Elforist watching and listening closely. ‘You heard Yassy,’ she says with deadly calm. ‘Arm yourselves and stand by for orders.’

‘We’re coming in hot!’ Slim shouts as the shuttle takes a sharp turn, its side thrusters burning.

‘The bridge is yours, Captain. Welcome back,’ Penny says a moment later as Helga strides in while still being broadcast live across the fleet.

‘Make ready please, Dilly. We have assets gaining the Abstinence. Sam, be ready to take control. Abdul, as Yasmine requested, rally the Elforists across the fleet and make them ready. Jorgey. Prepare an invasion strike force. Faiza, if you’re listening to this. Gather your best and brightest and report to Jorgey. Come on! Look lively. We are now in a state of war.’

* * *

‘Who the fuck does she think she is?!’ Kaylee demands within the mid-section Level 1 on the Ark as they watch Helga looking incredible against the backdrop of her bridge. ‘They can’t take the Abstinence, can they?’

‘No’ Joseph says confidently. ‘It is too late,’ he adds before thinking for a second and sending another secure message.

Shango

Can they take the Ab?

* * *

Mikhail reads it. Shaking his head while convincing himself they can’t. It’s done. Over. The Ab is already positioned to ram the other worldships.

What worries him is the fallout and so he sends his own message.

The Ab is ours. However. We need to plan for post op. The fallout will be negative. Suggestions?

* * *

Binita reads it, and as ever, she doesn’t feel the same level of confidence as the others. But Mikhail does raise a good point and she responds quickly.

Ares is right. Propose we leak trace of the new planet. Suggest Elforists wished to take it for themselves. Create terrorists.

* * *

‘Yeah. That’s a good idea,’ Kaylee says. ‘Say we agree, Joseph. We’ll do that and make the fleet think Helga was trying to steal this new planet. Which is basically what she’s doing anyway.’

And so Joseph, after frowning at Kaylee telling him what to do before once more drowning in her beauty, does as he is told.

Kaylee and I agree.

Make Helga the scapegoat.

* * *

Binita lifts an eyebrow at the now overt coupling of Shango and Venus replying as one while Mikhail snorts and rolls his eyes. But it’s a good exit strategy from this shitfest.

And somewhere else in the fleet, Mei Ting sips her water and reads the messages and watches the Abstinence manoeuvre into position as it prepares to slam through the Humility and into the Chastity.

However, perhaps some extra caution is right and so she sends her own message to Commander Patricia Bronson on the bridge of the Ark who reads it quickly.

Do not fail.

‘Cut internal power to the Abstinence,’ she orders, then thinks for a second. ‘Power and air.’

* * *

‘We’re docked!’ Nessy yells as the shuttle hits side-on at the Level 6 docking port hacked and made ready by Sam with a green for go.

‘Stay here,’ Sun says, heaving Pooky’s kid into the cockpit passenger seat.

‘Sun, go back with Nessy,’ Yasmine says as the door opens. ‘I mean it! There’s no point all four of us dying.’

‘And miss stealing a whole ship? Fuck that,’ Sun says. ‘And you two will probably try and kiss your way to the bridge.’

‘Fuck’s sake!’ Yasmine mutters as Po snorts a laugh in the tense air.

The four of them delve into a worldship being turned and moved fast enough for the motion to be felt. Albeit gently and nothing like the bucking, heaving chaos on the Kindness.

But if this day wasn’t weird enough already, what comes next is the most bizarre experience of Yasmine’s life because the Level 6 docking port connects directly to the back corridors of the commercial kitchens used to service the Ab-Spa luxury resort.

Commercial kitchens mostly staffed with Elforists and as they step into the first one, so the UV light glares down bringing life once more to Yasmine’s ink. She gasps at the sight ahead of her.

Elforists lining the route ahead.

Elforists with stick-figure tattoos gleaming.

Elforists clutching knives and cleavers.

All of them armed.

All of them ready.

Because Ferdy didn’t need to make the call.

Yasmine already did it and she feels the hairs on the back of her neck prickle at the sight. At the meaning of it, and even more so at Hattie the head chef holding a big cleaver, waving at them to follow her, the Elforists setting off ahead of them and more falling in behind.

‘We need the bridge,’ Yasmine says.

‘We know. We heard you,’ Hattie says as Yasmine frowns. ‘The whole fleet heard you. It’s this way.’

‘No! We need Carlos’s band,’ Zhang says. ‘Sam needs it to override the mainframe. It won’t work through ours. We’re not authorised by the bridge security system.’

‘Okay,’ Hattie says. ‘Mooch! We need Carlos!’ she yells, and a Chinese man in a steward’s uniform runs towards them as they go through the laundry room with more Elforists standing by, calling out and clapping.

‘He must be in his quarters,’ Mooch says. ‘Nobody’s seen him for hours.’

‘Where are you going?’ Yasmine calls as they reach the stairwell and start going down. ‘He’ll be on Level 1.’

‘The Ab works upside down,’ Mooch says. ‘The spa is at the top. The captain’s quarters are at the bottom.’

‘Fuck!’ Yasmine says as they set off running down flights of stairs past levels leading to the nurseries and massage parlours and down again past the arrivals lounges. All of them now filled with panicking families and vacationers, desperate to get off the ship after hearing the news feeds and feeling the Abstinence manoeuvring.

Down they go. Down and down past more workers. Chinese. Indian. Russian. All colours, all creeds, and all of them shoulder to shoulder with their Elfor colleagues. All of them cheering Yasmine and Zhang and Sun and Po while making sure the stairwells are cleared by grabbing and pushing the idiot vacationers out of the way.

Down they go, deep into the belly of the ship and finally out onto a platform, as the Ark cuts all services and every light on the ship goes out.

An instant change as the background thrum of air vents stops.

‘They’ve cut the air,’ Zhang says.

‘Fuck the air. We need lights,’ Yasmine says as dozens of bands light up all around them.

‘This way!’ Hattie says, leading them past sealed bulkhead doors that came down when the sections on the other side were breached, with workers and cabins sucked out into space.

Broken wiring looms, sparks hissing and spitting. Ruptured pipes still pouring with water.

‘It’s here,’ Mooch the steward says, reaching a door. ‘We’ll get some axes to break it down. WE NEED AXES HERE!’

‘No need,’ Yasmine says, getting to the door and pressing her band to the scanner with Sam’s hack punching through and turning the light from red for no to green for go and the door swishes back.

They spill inside, only to recoil at the sight of Carlos’s body next to his female vice-captain. Blood everywhere and the stench of piss and shit and iron rich in the air.

‘They got to him,’ Zhang says.

‘You need his band, right?’ Hattie asks, ignoring the carnage as she grabs Carlos’s arm and brings her cleaver down hard through the elbow.

‘What the fuck!’ Zhang says as she stands up holding the severed arm. ‘Just take the band off!’

‘Thought you might need his hand for biometrics,’ Hattie says with a shrug. ‘And he wasn’t well liked. Do we need his eyes? I can cut them out.’

‘No!’ Zhang says. ‘Jesus. The band cuts off when the user dies. They’re linked to your body.’

A cough.

A sputter.

They all turn to look down at the female vice-captain flickering her eyes open.

‘Oh shit. She’s alive!’ Yasmine says.

‘I’ll get her band,’ Hattie says, hefting the cleaver.

‘No!’ Po yells. ‘She needs to be wearing it, and she needs to be alive.’

‘Trust me. She wasn’t liked either,’ Hattie says as Zhang, Yasmine, Sun, and Po all grab the seriously injured groaning woman and start back through the door, along the corridor and back to the stairwell while the Abstinence continues to turn and pivot and lift higher, breaking formation and turning her bows towards the broad flank of the Humility as she rises up through space to prepare for maximum thrust.

Helga on the bridge of the Humility glares unblinkingly at the Abstinence. Everyone else does the same.

Everyone in the fleet gripped, watching the feeds showing the Ab now in total darkness and the air supply switched off.

‘They’ve cut internal service supplies,’ Penny says.

‘They’ll be fine,’ Dilly says calmly. ‘There’s enough air in that ship to last them weeks, and the bands all have torches. It’s just to scare them.’

‘Thank you, Dilly,’ Helga says with a gentle frown. ‘What rank do pilots normally hold?’

‘Lieutenant,’ Abdul says.

‘Thank you, Lieutenant Dilly. Penny, open a feed to Yasmine, please.’

‘On it,’ Penny says, swiping to call. ‘Yassy!’ she says when it answers and gasps at the sight of Yasmine, Sun, Po and Zhang running up a stairwell lit by bands while carrying the body of a vice-captain.

‘Yassy. Zhang. You don’t have long,’ Helga calls.

‘That woman is bleeding too much,’ Colin says, peering into the feed. ‘Zhang, clamp that wound on her right arm.’

‘Quit telling me what to do!’ Zhang says, while trying to get a hand free to clamp the vice-captain’s arm.

‘They need help! Get more hands into it,’ Abdul orders as Elforists rush in from the sides to grab and take the weight. ‘That’s it! Now run! RUN!’

‘She’s nearly there,’ Dilly calls, monitoring the trajectory of the Abstinence.

‘How long once she’s in position?’ Helga asks.

‘Less than three minutes,’ Dilly replies. ‘Sven, no offence buddy but I need your controls. You won’t have time to copy me when it gets nasty.’

On the Ark bridge, Commander Bronson watches while silently urging the Abstinence into position because the Six do not like failure.

‘Fuck,’ Yasmine gasps from the exertion despite the many people trying to help.

‘Er, has she stopped breathing?’ Po asks, trying to feel for a pulse as they turn a corner. ‘I think she has! Put her down. We’ll do resus.’

‘You don’t have time to put her down,’ Helga calls. ‘Do it on the run.’

‘Jesus!’ Po snaps. ‘I should never have tried to marry you, Zhang Fucking Woo!’

‘Er, what now?’ Kristi asks, cocking her head over as Po tries to do chest compressions on a body being carried by other people up flights of dark stairs.

‘She’s almost there,’ Dilly calls. ‘You’ve got about two minutes until she starts forward thrust.’

‘Hit her chest!’ Abdul shouts.

‘Get some air into her mouth,’ someone else shouts.

‘Clamp her wounds!’

‘Zap her with a voltage stick!’ Boris shouts as the bridge falls silent, everyone looking at him. ‘Seriously. We did it on this old guy once.’

‘We need a voltage stick!’ Yasmine says as everyone around her shouts until, in the dark chaos, someone finds one and brings it to her, whining and crackling.

‘Not while we’re holding her!’ Zhang tries to say, but it’s too late and the stick, turned to maximum cos why wouldn’t it be, jabs the chest of the nearly dead vice-captain and subsequently electrocutes everyone holding her.

‘Wow. Did that just happen?’ Penny asks as she and the entire fleet stare on in stunned awe at a dozen people all flying off as the vice-captain slides back down a flight of stairs. ‘Catch her then!’

Up they get. Cursing and yelling and hurting and sore. Grabbing the now even more nearly dead vice-captain.

‘One minute till thrust!’ Dilly calls.

‘Not helping, Dilly!’ Yasmine yells.

‘That’s Lieutenant Dilly,’ Dilly says with a wink at Sam.

‘I suggest you run, Yasmine,’ Helga says.

‘One more fucking person tell us to run,’ Yasmine says as a hand clamps on her arm, yanking her away to make a gap with someone going in low to stand up with the VC over their shoulder and setting off at a blistering pace.

‘Who the hell was that?’ Penny asks.

‘No idea but go! GO!’ Helga shouts as Yasmine and the others follow, and even without the body they struggle to keep up with the almighty speed of the person bounding up the stairs.

The whole fleet is held rapt. Horrified by the loss of life. Terrified it might happen to them while thrilled to watch it in real time.

Level 5. Level 4. People urging and cheering and that person carrying the body past Level 3 and up to Level 2.

‘This way!’ someone in a steward’s uniform shouts, urging the carrier off at the next platform and along a back corridor to another flight of stairs and up to the much smaller Level 1.

‘HERE! IT’S HERE!’ another steward yells, motioning the bulkhead door sealing access off to the bridge.

‘Get her band to the scanner,’ Yasmine gasps as the person holding the VC lowers her down to press her wrist to the bulkhead scanner as Yasmine and Zhang finally see who it is.

‘Fuck!’ Yasmine says, staring at Chatty Simon’s broad, handsome black features. A flashback to the Beijing when Yasmine wrapped a flexi-pipe around Karen Big Feet’s head. Mad Eyes was killed. Dmitri too. Guphy had the shit kicked out of him. But she never thought about Chatty Simon or what happened to him. Now here he is. As silent as ever and holding the VC’s wrist to the scanner.

‘We good now?’ Simon asks, with the first words any of them have heard since he was a child when he saw his father murdering his mother.

‘Yeah,’ Yasmine whispers. ‘We’re good, Simon.’

He steps back as the scanner gives entry and the bulkhead door opens with Zhang scooping the VC up to carry her up the stairs and out onto the darkened bridge.

‘THRUST!’ Commander Bronson orders on the Ark.

‘They’re moving!’ Dilly says as everyone on the Abstinence feels the vibrations from the burners lighting up and the application of force as the huge vessel is sent rocketing forward. The G-force hitting everyone, the water in the pools sliding towards one end and plates and beakers sliding from tables.

‘SAM!’ Zhang yells, taking the VC’s other hand to swipe the band and open the system. Her body dying, her mind already gone. But enough life left for the band to stay active as Zhang uses it to send a ping to Sam.

‘Got it!’ Sam says, his screens already lighting up as he starts typing.

‘We’ve got incoming, Lieutenant Dilly,’ Helga says calmly. ‘Suggest we move.’

‘I’m on it,’ Dilly says, reading the trajectory and trying to calculate his response. He can’t punch forward fast enough to clear the way, because the Abstinence will simply turn into their path. He certainly can’t go backwards. Not at the speed they are moving.

That only leaves up and down. Which means he has to move the Humility and the Chastity in opposing directions. One up and one down all the while knowing one of them won’t survive.

And all of that in one second of pure instinct as the Abstinence moves like a rocket and those inside slide back, crying and holding on to desks as they stare through the windows of the Abstinence bridge to the mighty front end and the swimming pools under her glass canopy and the Humility and the Chastity dead ahead. Not moving. Not doing anything.

‘DILLY!’ Penny shouts.

‘I said I’ve got it,’ Dilly says as the Abstinence comes in fast, only seconds away and Sam types and the Gods clench their fists, knowing it’s about to be over while Yasmine grits her teeth and snarls with Zhang at her side. Sun and Po behind them. Sam typing. Dilly poised.

‘Now, Mr Dilly!’ Helga whispers and Dilly operates both controls and the Humility plunges while the Chastity soars.

‘Aim for the Humility!’ Commander Bronson orders.

‘They’re aiming for us,’ Helga calls on the bridge. ‘Sam!’

‘Almost . . . Almost,’ Sam mutters, punching through the firewalls and anti-hacking systems to finally see the Abstinence’s mainframe and the program connecting it to the Ark. The program that he tears down to take control. ‘I’ve got it!’

‘She’s still got momentum!’ Helga says. ‘Get the controls to Dilly.’

‘To me!’ Dilly says as Clara ducks in to detach the virtual floating controls pushed out from Sam’s system and runs fast from Sam to Dilly, sliding them into the middle as Dilly swipes at icons, opening systems to access burners and thrusters.

A last few seconds of life, everyone tensed and ready for the impact as the Abstinence comes in fast.

‘Gotcha!’ Dilly shouts out and like a ballet in the sky, the Humility drops and rolls a three-sixty while the Abstinence’s thrusters burn bright to fly up and over the top of the Humility with mere feet between them. Both ships rolling at the same time, everyone on board held in place by their grav-drives while the world outside spins and turns making their bellies flip and lurch. Then the Abstinence’s bow rises high with bow thrusters on max to ease the speed as she rolls and sinks and finally comes down. Both ships level out next to each other in perfect formation and everyone on the bridge of the Humility stares stunned through their windows to the terrified bathers and vacationers inside the Ab-Spa, one woman still floating serenely on her back in the now sloshing Serenity Pool, while on the other side, the Chastity lowers smoothly into position.

‘And that, motherfuckers, is the Dilly Dally Dolly show!’ Dilly says with a grin. ‘You have control of the Virtue fleet, Captain Sveinsson!’

‘FUCK YES!’ Abdul roars, punching the air as Sun and Po leap at each other, high-fiving and not paying any shred of attention to the vice-captain exhaling her final breath as she dies on the floor.

‘Stop!’ Helga orders, cutting through the jubilant cheers and whoops. ‘I SAID STOP!’

Silence returns. Jarring and harsh as Dilly glides the three ships apart to create safe distance and Helga looks over to the holographic display.

‘Who would you send next, Lieutenant Dilly?’

‘The Scandies,’ Dilly replies. Knowing exactly what she means. ‘And I’d send all four of them straight at the Humility, assuming, that is, that we are the prize.’

‘We are the prize,’ Helga says, looking down on the four ships of the Scandinavian fleet. The next closest. Each the same size as any of the Virtue ships. And each locked into the Ark mainframe.

While on the Ark, at the exact second that Helga ordered silence, Commander Bronson took another message sent to her secure system

The four Scandies. Target is the Humility. Fail again and you will be executed.

Patricia Bronson swallows and waits for the navigational code to come in, and a second later it pops up to be sent over.

‘All four, Commander?’ the navigation lieutenant asks.

‘They’ll send the whole fleet if they have to,’ Commander Bronson replies. ‘And I suggest you never question their orders again.’

* * *

On the Humility, Helga frowns and thinks hard.

‘They’ve got fifty ships to send at us,’ Abdul says as she turns to listen. ‘The Ark is all they need. The rest of us are just cattle carts.’

‘They won’t stop,’ Yasmine says from the bridge of the Abstinence. ‘You said it before. They only have to announce what we have, and the fleet will forget we ever existed.’

Helga grunts, accepting their views without argument. Standing there with her hands behind her back. Regal. Dignified. Unflappable, and a moment passes where nothing seems to happen, and the fleet holds rapt until she turns to the camera.

‘This is a message to the Ark and those on board doing the work of the Six. Surrender now and we will ensure your safety. We know you are under threat. We know the Six will kill you if you don’t do as they order. We will protect you. But if you move against us, we will destroy you.’

Penny swallows. Kristi blinks. Everyone holds still. Clenching fists. Hearts thumping hard. Families clutching each other while on the Scandinavian fleet, frantic calls rush between captains and vice-captains and officials as their populaces start to panic.

‘And to the Scandinavian fleet we say this,’ Helga continues. ‘You are not the enemy of the Elfors or the Virtue fleet. They are going to use your vessels as missiles. Go to your bridges and contact either Abdul Shariff or Penny Nahle. We have the means to sever your connection to the Ark and protect you. To the Ark – do we have your surrender?’

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Just silence and the fleet flies on against the backdrop of space and such is the void around them, it once more appears sterile and still.

But this is space, and everything is moving all the time.

Nothing is ever still.

‘The Scandies are lifting out of formation,’ Dilly reports as Helga looks over to the holographic display and the sight of the four vessels rising fast and she lifts her chin and turns back to the camera.

‘Your refusal to surrender is noted. Our response will be with you shortly. To everyone else in the fleet. Return to your cabins. We will not harm you. You have nothing to fear from us. But if any captain or police force stands against us, you will be treated as the enemy, and you will be destroyed. This fleet will no longer tolerate the tyranny of the Six. And remember this,’ Helga adds, glaring into the lens. ‘I gave you a chance. Cut the feed, Kristi. Cut all the feeds.’

Then she’s gone.

Yasmine too.

The bridges.

The feeds.

All of them.

And it goes quiet.

It goes very, very quiet.

38

‘Why is it so quiet?’ Kaylee asks. ‘I mean. What can she do anyway? Seriously. What can she do? And what does surrender mean? Surrender to who? To her? Is she demented? Ask the others. Ask them what’s going on?’

‘Why don’t you ask them?’ Joseph snaps as she looks at him in contempt, but those looks, those eyes, the shape of her. He’s fixated and his brief flash of courage disappears as he sends the message, and she smirks in victory.

What is happening?

* * *

Mikhail reads it and figures nothing is happening because there is nothing that can happen. Helga took the Ab, but they’ve got fifty ships to send, and they’ll use them all if they have to.

No. Helga is toothless. It’s just a messy way of resolving things. And straight after the Humility is destroyed, they’ll announce the new planet and make some bullshit up that Helga wanted to destroy it or colonise it for Elforists. Whatever. The fleet won’t care. They’ll have a new planet to think about and so he writes his reply and hits send.

Who cares. It’s over. Bye bye Helga.

* * *

Binita isn’t so sure. In fact she hasn’t been sure since this thing began and to her, no news is certainly not good news, so she starts to make preparations by calling her aides.

* * *

Mei Ting notes the lack of response from Lakshmi and lifts her head a fraction in silent respect for the one other God she has the slightest respect for, because it’s plainly obvious the others have had no clue what’s been going on since the very start.

* * *

And on the bridge of the Ark, Commander Bronson waits while the four Scandinavian vessels are made ready to thrust at the Humility, and her staff take frantic calls of panic from officials on board those very ships and explain it’s not the Ark doing anything. Helga must have taken control and they’re doing everything they can to counter her.

Smoke and mirrors.

But then it’s been smoke and mirrors from the start.

Especially for Helga, who was not innocent at all. Not one bit. She forced Zhang to threaten Mahatma because she lost the code.

But somewhere along the way. Somewhere within all of the death and terror and pure exhilaration and thrill, she learned to live again and realised she was never really living at all. She was merely existing.

But this now.

This right here.

This is life.

Pure life, and truth be told, despite the terror inside, she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else and so she grips the handle of her flexi-pipe so hard her knuckles turn white.

And it stays quiet.

It stays very, very quiet.

And nothing happens.

Nothing at all.

Everything appears still and unmoving save for the Scandinavian vessels lifting their bows like rockets being pointed to the sky. The captains on board run onto their long-disused bridges, trying to make frantic calls to the Humility to sever the connection with the Ark.

‘Dilly? How long do we have?’ Penny asks. Standing at the windows with her hands behind her back. Staring down at the Scandy ships manoeuvring.

‘Minutes at most,’ Dilly replies.

‘Can we outmanoeuvre them?’ Penny asks.

‘Not all four. And if one strikes the Chastity or the Ab we could still be taken out from the debris. And if by some divine right they do miss they’ll send the four Euro ships straight after. Then the WS Korea. Then the Singapore and the Asahi and anything else they can find.’

‘Then there is nothing we can do,’ Penny says quietly. Kristi next to her. Sam nearby working on his systems. Dilly in the captain’s chair surrounded by the basic controls for all three Virtue vessels. Everyone else gone.

Everyone else not here.

And so it feels quiet.

Very, very quiet.

With nothing seeming to happen.

Nothing at all.

And across the fleet they stare at the live feeds showing the Scandy vessels lifting, but without Kristi’s broadcast and Helga’s updates, without Yassy shouting into her feed and Abdul giving orders. Without that raw and powerful access.

It all seems so very, very quiet.

And so very, very tense.

And on the Ark bridge, Commander Bronson frowns as she realises the Scandy fleet is nearly ready, and nothing has happened. Which means nothing can now happen.

Which means it’s over.

Done.

Helga has lost.

The Humility cannot outmanoeuvre four vessels flying at her, nor can the Humility take control and sever the connections holding the Scandy ships to the Ark mainframe.

The same thoughts hit Joseph and Kaylee in their sprawling luxury quarters. ‘She’s fucking lost,’ Kaylee says with a laugh. ‘It was all just talk. She can’t do anything!’

Joseph smiles. Still nervous and worried, but then he’s a nervous and worried man and he nods eagerly at Kaylee as she takes a turn to send a message.

We got this.

* * *

Mikhail reads it as he finally sits back and allows himself a smile. It’s done. Over. And he lifts a glass of real Russian vodka to toast Helga’s feeble attempt to oppose the Six. Many tried before on Earth, and they failed too. It is the order of things. The Illuminati will always reign, and he types his response.

We got this.

* * *

Binita finally sits back down, and she too feels the same glimmer of hope that the others are sharing, because honestly, there is just no way out of this for Helga. The Six have every ship to send at the Humility. There is nowhere they can go. Millions more will die, but every player in this game knows that the second they reveal there is a new planet nobody will care. That’s human nature. It’s how people are. You can do anything to them. Anything at all. You can inflict wars and diseases and destroy whole cultures and hide it all behind messy accusations and fake news and whip everyone into a frenzy by creating opposing parties and ideas and groups and then, ever so simply, you announce something else, and they all forget and move on.

Binita smiles, and if she could, she’d offer a nod to Helga for trying more than anyone has for a very long time. She’s got spirit. That’s for sure. And Abdul too. And the other girl. Yasmine. What a firecracker she is!

But no. They’ve all tried, and you cannot fight the Six. Even if they are now the Five, and so she too, taps a response and hits send.

We got this.

* * *

Mei Ting reads the messages but still shows no response. Her eyes flick back up to the feeds and over to her own miniature holographic display of the fleet and the four Scandy ships nearing position to fire aft burners to obliterate the Humility.

But she does not add her own message.

Because it’s quiet.

Very, very quiet.

Which makes it look like nothing is happening.

Which means everything is about to happen.

Because this is space, and nothing is ever still.

* * *

And that very notion has been in Sam Gablinski’s mind since this all began. That the whole fleet has always been moving. And he thought, along with everyone else, that they were searching for a new planet.

But they weren’t.

Because they must have known all along there was another planet, which means they’ve always been flying towards it.

And everything else is a lie.

It’s more than a lie.

It’s a fucking conspiracy.

* * *

And in that silence where nothing seems to be happening, Helga draws air and feels the solidity of the flexi-pipe in her hand. Her heart whumping in her chest. Her legs rubbery from adrenaline. Her mouth suddenly very dry.

But she’s not the only one.

Abdul is the same. And Yassy. And Zhang. Sun. Po. Jorgey. Clara. Boris. Pasha. Ferdy. Willy. Robby. Tommy. Sally. Dil. Marko.

All of them behind Helga. All of them close together. Packed in tight, shoulder to shoulder.

Yasmine thinks about Sam and Kristi and how everything has happened so fast. From the time she first saw Sam to this moment feels like a day or two. Like a whirl of memories and images in her head. But she cried. She did that. She wept and sobbed, and somehow, it gave her new energy. She can’t explain how or why. Only that it did. It’s given her perspective too, because if she can kiss Kristi and not panic, then it means Dmitri didn’t ruin every aspect of her life. And knowing that suddenly diminishes his power and she sees him for what he was. A seedy, violent, broken human being that’s now dead while she’s alive and surrounded by people who care for her, and who she cares for.

There’s love too.

There is. She can feel it inside. Love for Sun. Love for Sam. For Penny. Jesus, even for Sven. And, in a way, there’s love for Kristi for giving her a chance at something she thought she’d lost forever.

‘You’re smiling.’ A voice next to her, and she looks up into a pair of eyes so very similar to her own.

‘Just thinking,’ she says, taking in his tattoos. Stick-figures holding knives and sticks, and stick-figures with nothing more than raised fists. All of them telling the story of a man that fought his way to the top. ‘What was she like?’ she asks suddenly. ‘My mother. What was she like?’

Abdul smiles as the memories flood through him, bringing a warmth and depth to his harsh features. ‘She was the most beautiful woman I ever saw.’

Yasmine smiles, a tear breaking free and rolling down her cheek as Sun moves in closer at her side. Squeezing her arm.

‘She had this laugh,’ Abdul says with a grin. ‘It was infectious.’

‘You have that,’ Sun says as Yasmine smiles again, feeling pain, but nice pain this time. Bittersweet.

‘And she was intelligent. And loyal. And wild. My god she was wild.’

‘She was nuts!’ Ferdy says. ‘You look like her, Yassy. And that twat too unfortunately,’ he adds with a laugh at Abdul.

‘And she was funny,’ Abdul adds. ‘She made us all laugh.’

Yasmine smiles through her tears. Wishing she’d known her. Wishing she had just one memory. ‘Did you love her?’

‘Yes,’ Abdul says without hesitation.

‘We all loved her,’ Ferdy adds. ‘Same as we all love you, Yassy. But it’s the Elfors. Life is hard. You know? Don’t judge her for what she did to eat. All credits are good credits.’

‘No questions asked,’ come the many, many voices at once, even from Helga, her own eyes filled with tears as she listens.

‘I loved her,’ Abdul says a moment later. ‘And it nearly killed me when she died. But . . . Time. Time goes on and the pain never goes away but you learn to live with it. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, and I never knew about Dmitri.’

‘We would have all killed him if we knew,’ Ferdy says as Yasmine nods, finally accepting it and taking that first step of learning to live with it. But there’s one more question she needs to know, a question that’s been burning inside for a very long time.

‘My name. Who chose it?’

‘Emile did,’ Abdul says. ‘Emile Yasmine Dufont. Yasmine was her mother’s name. Emile was her grandmother’s. The same two names have always been used.’ He pauses to smile at the light shining in Yasmine’s eyes. ‘She talked about you. She said your life would be different. That you would be someone special and you’d bring change and make everyone listen. She stopped working when she knew she was pregnant. She’d sit there rubbing her belly and tell you to be strong and brave and stand up for those that couldn’t do it for themselves. My Yassy. My brave Yassy. You’ll change the fleet.’

He breaks off to wipe his own tears away. Regretting so much.

‘She was right,’ Helga says into the silence that follows. ‘You’ve brought change, Yassy. You made the fleet listen.’

‘I didn’t. I stole a code. Sam did that. You did that.’

Helga smiles, reaching out to wipe Yasmine’s cheeks. ‘You brought Sam into this. You brought us all into this. Without you, none of this would be happening.’

‘Yeah, Yassy. This is your damn fault,’ Zhang growls, earning laughs as he nods at her. She smiles back at him. At his dark eyes, filled with the same rage she has inside.

The two of them side by side.

Two people that scorn any shred of authority or responsibility.

Anti-authority.

Anti-establishment.

Anti-everything, and so full of dark and furious energy they’ll destroy their own lives and everything around them – until something triggers inside.

Then they’ll lead armies into war.

Helga saw it that day on the bridge when Yasmine and Zhang ran to her demanding they catch the rapists and murderers.

‘Yeah, it’s not just my fault you fucking sex pest,’ Yasmine says, prompting more nervous laughs as Zhang gives a rare smile and nods back at her.

‘Well. I guess maybe we need to finish it then,’ he says.

‘I think maybe we do,’ Yasmine replies, pushing her hand into her pocket to loop her fingers through her Elfor Knuckles while feeling the flexi-pipe in her waistband, and she turns to look through the cockpit door over Nessy’s shoulder.

‘What do you think?’ Helga asks. ‘Are we ready?

Nods from all around her. From Abdul and Yasmine and Zhang and everyone else stacked up behind them. A nod from Helga, and Yasmine presses her finger to her ear.

‘Fuck’s sake. You don’t need to do that,’ Sun says, slapping her hand away. ‘Just speak and it activates.’

‘I like doing it!’ Yasmine says as she draws air and looks back to the many Elforists stacked and packed inside the Cargo shuttle. ‘We ready then?’

Nods and murmurs.

‘Come on! Are we fucking ready then? We’re Elforists! WE ARE FUCKING ELFORISTS AND NOBODY ROLLS AN ELFOR! SAM! NOW, SAM! LIGHT ’EM UP!’

And like that, the quiet ends.

And the battle begins.

* * *

‘The Scandy ships are ready!’ the lieutenant calls on the Ark bridge. ‘Permission to fire aft burners, Commander.’

‘Permission granted. Fire aft burners,’ the commander orders, and nothing happens. ‘Lieutenant! Fire the burners!’

‘Er . . . What’s that?’ the lieutenant asks, staring in horror at his feeds. ‘Seriously. What the fuck is that?’

Commander Bronson lifts from her chair to see his feeds as a sudden change comes to the holographic display of the fleet, with dozens of glowing orange dots blooming up, one after the other.

Dozens of very fast-moving glowing dots.

And each one of them coming from the Humility, each one of them aiming straight for the Ark, as a voice comes over every transmission and from every speaker in the fleet at the same time.

I gave you a chance. Helga’s voice. Strong. Calm and defiant.

Tell every Elforist in this fleet to arm up and stand by, because those fucking Gods won’t stop until we’re all dead. Yasmine’s voice. Filled with passion and rage.

‘What the fuck is that?’ the Ark lieutenant demands. Seeing the orange dots lighting up as the voices boom out from every speaker.

Your refusal to surrender is noted. Helga’s voice.

They just killed a million people. Nobody else can stop them. Yasmine’s voice.

‘Cut the feeds!’ Commander Bronson orders, but there are no feeds to cut because the signals are hidden. ‘Launch the Scandy ships! FULL POWER NOW!’

The order is obeyed, and as one, the aft burners light up with the Scandy ships shooting upwards with sudden acceleration. All four of them aiming for the Humility.

And to the Scandinavian fleet we say this. Go to your bridges. We have the means to sever your connection and protect you. Helga’s voice again. Strong. Calm and dignified, and Commander Bronson and the five remaining members of the Six listen to that voice and watch as the Scandy ships soar, all four of them aiming for the Humility. All four of them building speed.

They’ll keep killing us until we stop them. Yasmine’s voice rings out, while Commander Bronson gets to her feet and shouts in rage as those four Scandy ships change course and veer out with bow thrusters burning to ease speed as they reach the same plane and level out in a row next to the Humility.

The Scandy fleet is under your protection, Captain Sveinsson, Overseer Captain Bjorgson’s deep voice comes out through every speaker at once. We stand with the Elfors.

‘Send the Euros!’ Commander Bronson shouts.

‘Oh, shit. They’re shuttles!’ the lieutenant says. ‘Those orange dots are shuttles. They wiped the transponders so we didn’t see them!’

‘Send the fucking Euros!’ Commander Bronson yells.

Your refusal to surrender is noted.

‘Turn those fucking speakers off!’

Remember this . . . I gave you a chance.

‘Commander! The shuttles! What do we do?’ the lieutenant asks as the bridge staff start to panic.

And on the Humility, Sam types as he thinks about Yasmine and his life before when all he did was work the airlock and go home. Now he’s here. Doing this. On a bridge in the middle of a war, and Yasmine was right, because the Six won’t stop. Not for a new planet. They killed millions on Earth for oil and riches and the rights to pharmaceuticals. They started wars to make money from selling bombs and weapons. They were always there. Doing the same thing as they’re doing now. Controlling everything. Hiding what they wanted to hide and lying about everything else. Abusing people and lives and causing untold suffering because they were born into wealth and power and entitlement.

The same then.

The same now.

And if nothing changes it will always be the same.

But this is space. The final frontier for humanity and it has to be different, but it won’t change unless someone changes it.

And maybe he can be that someone. Maybe he can change it, and so while wiping the transponders of the dozens of shuttles that responded to Dilly’s shout for help, and while more shuttles docked to take Elforists on board, and while hacking the bridges of the four Scandy ships to sever their connections, and while being on hand to do whatever is needed for that change to happen, Sam does something else.

He plays those voices through every feed in the fleet, with an almighty hack backed up by the power of seven worldship mainframes.

Which is a lot of power to play with.

And while those voices play out, to keep reminding the whole fleet that the Six started this and that Helga offered them a chance to stop.

While doing all of those things.

Sam does something else.

He takes the program he made when he copied Navi-Read and adds more to it while Kristi works at his side. Surrounded by her own feeds as she researches and takes images and types names and locations while Sam codes.

A few metres away, Dilly monitors the basic controls of the worldships now under his piloting, all now locked into a holding formation, and while doing that, he pilots the Elfor One shuttle from a remote link and holds it strong and proud in the middle of the shuttle armada aiming for the Ark.

Upon which, Commander Bronson feels that awful sensation, that things are about to go horribly wrong. ‘Send the four Euro ships at them! Send the Korea and the Asahi, and the Singapore! DO IT!’ she screams out as a message pings up.

Grip this.

And the fear inside spikes as Helga’s voice come through the speakers.

Your refusal to surrender is noted.

Then nothing.

Silence.

And Commander Bronson freezes as do her entire bridge staff, as do the five remaining members of the Six and everyone else in the fleet as an emergency news broadcast blooms up with Kristi Carter staring into her camera.

Not saying anything.

Not speaking.

Just staring.

‘It’s ready,’ a voice out of shot says. Kristi nods and lifts her chin.

‘My name is Kristi Carter. I used to work for FleetNewsCast. But my position, if not already terminated, will be finished very soon. As will my life. Because FleetNewsCast, along with every other news agency in this fleet, is owned by a group of people that call themselves the Six and after this, they will kill me.’

‘Fucking bitch!’ Kaylee shouts on the Ark.

‘What is she doing?’ Mikhail snaps on the Vladivostok.

‘Oh no,’ Binita says, as that same sinking feeling hits them all.

‘And I have something else to tell you,’ Kristi continues. ‘The Six have lied to the whole fleet since we set off.’

‘Those shuttles!’ the navigation lieutenant shouts in alarm. ‘What are they doing?’

‘The Six, and the authorities in this fleet, told us we are searching for a new planet. They said we’re sending probes out all the time to try and find one, but in the meantime, you just hang in there and stay hopeful . . . And buy the shit they produce to keep them wealthy and living lives of absolute luxury while so many in this fleet faced starvation and suffering. And it was the Six who kept the Elfors locked in, because it meant they always had a handy hot topic to throw at the fleet if they needed a distraction. Do you remember when the Elfors were close to gaining registration twenty-five years ago? What else happened? They crashed two shuttles together and killed the people campaigning for it. The Six did that.’

‘Commander! We have to do something about those shuttles!’

‘They’re just shuttles! Do your job and send the Euros! Fly them manually. And the other ships. DO IT NOW! Take control and end this.’

‘And they did something else too,’ Kristi continues. ‘They crashed three worldships together when the fleet set off because they wanted to consolidate their power. And most recently, they moved the whole fleet into the path of a meteor shower and positioned it so the four remaining Virtue ships would be taken out. But somebody saw them do that. Somebody very powerful. Do you know who that was? It was Pretty Boy. And he questioned why. And so he started working on that very thing until he realised that Navi-Read is a complete lie. It’s made up. It’s a fabrication. Every navigational code released by the Ark is false and we are not where they told us. We are not anywhere near where they said we are. Look. I can show you.’

She stands aside as the golden line shimmers into being, shoots down the length of the bridge and comes to a stop with fifty white dots glowing in the air.

‘That’s where they said we are.’

Then the red line comes to life and once more diverts from the golden line and shoots over Dilly’s head and around the bridge before scoring off in a very straight line where it too comes to a stop with fifty glowing dots. None of which are anywhere near the golden line.

‘That’s where we are,’ Kristi says. ‘Pretty Boy is going to release that program so it can be scrutinised by anyone who wants to look at it. And we know it’s accurate because the seven worldships now under our control all have mainframes that give the exact same readings as to where we are.’

‘I don’t like it!’ the lieutenant says on the Ark bridge.

‘What!?’ Bronson rages at him. ‘What don’t you like?’

‘Those shuttles. There’s something sinister about them.’

And on the Humility, Kristi continues. ‘There’s something else we’d like to share with you. Something that has never been shared either on Earth, or in this fleet. Are you ready?’ she asks, with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. ‘Elforists! Are you ready?’ she asks again, her voice harder. Her tone stronger. ‘Your queen needs you ready. ARE YOU READY?’

And across the fleet. Elforists roar back with weapons raised. Giving voice on nearly every level on every ship.

‘Helga’s orders are that you go and you don’t stop! You tear them down. To everyone else in this fleet: stay down and stay out of our way. We will not harm you. Ready, Sam?’

‘It’s ready,’ Sam calls as Kristi looks over to Penny who nods, and Dilly grunts as the shuttle armada flying fast towards the Ark splits and spreads out with the Elfor One streaking pure and fast out from the middle. Her transponder lighting up with her name showing clear on desks and consoles on the Ark bridge.

‘Helga gave you a chance,’ Kristi says into the camera. ‘You stupid dumb fucks. You should have taken it because nobody rolls an Elfor. So fuck you! FUCK YOU! THIS IS FOR THE KINDNESS! GET ’EM DILLY!’

‘This is Dilly Dally Dolly coming in hot,’ Dilly says calmly as the Elfor One flies at a speed no human could withstand. But there are no humans on board and Commander Bronson snaps her head up from the holographic display to the sight of the Elfor One through the bridge window.

The Elfor One coming straight for them.

Aiming for the bridge.

The bridge that holds every ship in the fleet locked into their mainframe.

And in that second, Commander Patricia Bronson wishes she’d never taken the money.

Then the Elfor One hits.

And it hits fast and hard like a missile, tearing through metal to breach the outer hull and rip the bridge apart as those inside feel the pressure of the impact and the instant suction of air as they are pulled through, the debris tearing their limbs off, and out into the freezing cold void of space. Flames ignite with a split-second explosion and a flash of power that creates a pressure wave, and like the Kindness, the impacts are heard inside the vessel from the transference of energy through the hull, and that strange, majestic, almost slow-motion destruction plays out like a special effect and Commander Bronson whips out into the void, screaming the last breath of air from her lungs as they try to inflate, only to find there’s no air to draw in.

‘YES!’ Dilly roars. ‘The Ark bridge is out!’

Kristi nods and turns back to the camera, her eyes glinting. ‘The Ark bridge is down. I repeat. We’ve taken the Ark bridge out. To the fleet. Do not panic. You will remain in formation. Nothing will happen. We will contact you and we will tell you how to control your vessels. Captain Sveinsson! If you’re hearing this. The bridge is out! We control space! To the Elforists in the fleet. To everyone that wants to help us gain freedom and safety. These are the people who must be stopped. These are the people who killed one million of your fellow human beings on the Kindness today. These are the people who were going to destroy the Scandy fleet and the Humility and the Chastity to stop us from telling the truth. Albert Edwards. HMS Britannica. We’ve taken him out already. Here are the remaining five.’

‘Don’t you fucking dare,’ Kaylee whispers, as her face appears on the screen with Kristi reading her details out.

Kaylee Shardakian.

AKA Venus.

Mid-Section Level 1.

The Ark.

‘Oh god, no’ Joseph says, his stomach flipping over as his face comes up next.

Joseph Phiri

AKA Shango.

Level 3.

The WS Africa.

Mikhail doesn’t say anything but downs his shot of vodka with a bitter expression as his face appears.

Mikhail Papaev

AKA Ares.

Level 10.

The WS Vladivostok.

She was right to be cautious after all and Binita backs up in terror as her name and details flash up.

Binita Bakshi

AKA Lakshmi.

Level 5.

The WS Mumbai.

And Mei Ting finally snorts a bitter laugh and takes another sip of her water at her own face coming up last.

Mei Ting

AKA The Jade Emperor.

Level 3.

The WS Beijing.

‘They are the Six. They control you!’ Kristi says into the feed and across the whole fleet. ‘They own every shuttle company and news agency. Our clothes. Our medications. They own and control the police! Rise up! Rise up and find them. Don’t let them take any more lives. They destroyed the Kindness, and they will destroy everything in this fleet. And if any captain stands in your way, then they are part of it!’

* * *

And on the Ark, in the great concourse, squads of police stand stacked and ready with voltage shields and voltage sticks crackling and whining. Hundreds of them dressed in black with more running to back their colleagues up as they watch the shuttles outside.

Nessy coming in fast, swerving hard at the last second to go side-on into the docking port that switches from red for no to green for go, the clamps coupling and tunnels connecting and venting, and a second later the doors open and Helga strides out, her flexi-pipe held up while she screams her war-cry.

Another shuttle docks next to it. And then another one next to that, and from those doors Elforists pour out with weapons held high and ready as Helga charges with Abdul at her side. Yasmine and Zhang. Jorgey, Clara, Boris and Pasha. Faiza, and Elforists all around them.

Elforists throughout the Ark and every ship in the fleet scream and start to run. Turning over tables in the kitchens they work in. Charging through deserted corridors and smashing into any official trying to stop them.

One hundred and twenty years of oppressed rage finally allowed to vent. And so they do. They vent with everything they have, and that army Helga galvanised becomes a force greater than the fleet has ever known.

And as Helga charges at that first rank of officers, another force of uniformed police runs out from the side, led by Commander Drago with Elforists that all turn to fight with Helga. Slamming into the police. Tearing them down to batter them away so they can reach stairwells as that great wave of pressure rolls through every ship from bow to stern. From starboard to port.

On every level.

In every quarter.

It becomes a bloodbath.

A savage, brutal, awful, and most terrible bloodbath where no ship escapes. And it’s not just Elforists who join the battle, but the Hutongs erupt on the Beijing, charging the stairwells and tearing down any cop or official they can find as they riot and hunt for Mei Ting.

The same on the Mumbai. The Bustees detonate and join in with the Elforists as they race through alleys and walkways and gain the stairwells, killing the police and any official standing against them.

But it has to be this way. Helga said they have to do this. They have to fight back and kill the Six.

It’s the same on every ship in the fleet. Even those that don’t house any of the Six rise up because Helga said to take the captains down and anyone who stands against them. They all have to be stopped. They all have to be taken down.

On the African ships they rampage.

On the Japanese ship, the Asahi, the captain screams in terror as the door to his cabin is forced open and the mob pours in, knowing he is connected because he ordered his police to put down any protesters, and he’s dead in seconds.

The four Euro ships suffer the same because their captains went on FleetNewsCast and denounced Helga for a fake and a fraud. They tried to tear her down and say Elforists were parasites – and so they too feel the wrath, and soon realise that as big as their ships are, they are still finite, and there is nowhere left to run.

It becomes a bloodbath.

A savage, brutal, awful, and most terrible bloodbath, and of the fifty worldships, over thirty kill their captains and scores more officials are taken out along with thousands of police officers that tried to withstand the revolt, only to get put down.

Because as everyone knows.

Nobody rolls an Elfor.

But within that bloodbath.

Within that savage, brutal, awful, and most terrible bloodbath, only small numbers of innocents are hurt. Bad managers. Bad bosses. Bad people that thought they could rule with fear and force.

But for everyone else, Helga’s promise holds true, and they stay safe in their cabins as Helga’s army purges the fleet.

As for the Six – Joseph Phiri tries to run. ‘No! We’re fine here,’ Kaylee says, pulling him back. ‘We’ve got guards and the police will put them down. Fucking hell, Joseph. You really need to grow a pair. A few manky old Elforists can’t hurt us . . . Er, excuse me? Can I help you?’ she asks a servant walking in to stare at them. ‘Are you fucking stupid? Go away!’

But the servant doesn’t go. She looks past them to the feed showing the faces of the Six and then back to Venus and Shango and slowly reaches up to yank the AI fastener of her blouse apart and yanks it off to stand there in a tight vest top, showing the stick-figure tattoos on her arms.

Then another servant walks in to stop and stare. Then another and another. Not all Elforists. But all of them having suffered years of degradation and abuse.

‘No!’ Kaylee snaps as they start walking towards them. Still thinking she can order them with the God-given authority she was born with. ‘I said no!’ she shouts, grabbing a glass to throw in a hissy-fit temper that only serves to spark the rage they needed, and as one the servants charge at her. Grabbing her hair and pulling her off her feet. Clawing at her face and arms and dragging her across the floor while kicking and hitting her. Joseph tries to shout, but his own instinct for survival kicks in and he flees. Running through rooms filled with workers smashing things apart or looting what they can grab. The security teams gone, having fled their posts, and he runs out into a corridor and screams in fear at the mob of tattooed Elforists running towards him. He runs backwards, turning at the last minute to see the snarling face of Helga Sveinsson wielding a flexi-pipe that comes down hard on his head.

Killing him instantly.

And by the time they get into the luxury quarters, Kaylee Shardakian is already hanging from a pipe.

Just like Stella Yeah Yeah.

* * *

Mikhail tries to dig in, believing he owns the police and has more security and better equipment, but it’s still a bloodbath of rage fuelled by a hundred and twenty years of oppression, and with Elforists on every ship, fetching and carrying, cooking and cleaning, fixing and mending, it’s only minutes until that wave of violence slams through his door and starts pouring into his luxury cabins. Trashing everything they can see. Tearing it apart.

He grabs a gun. A real firearm from Earth and as they batter through the final door, he fires into them with the gunshots lost in the roar, and if anything, those he kills only make those behind them so much more violent and once the gun clicks empty, they sweep through and rip him apart with their bare hands.

* * *

Binita Bakshi, ever the more cautious of the Six, fares better and quickly runs to her own private docking port where her luxury shuttle awaits to get her away with enough food and supplies on board to last her for months.

* * *

Sam hears about it first. Taking a call on the Humility bridge. ‘Sam!’ Chi-Chi says, her face hidden by a mask as she runs with the mob. ‘Tell Helga Binita got away! She has a luxury yacht, Sam! They are saying she can live on it for years. We can’t reach her.’

‘I’ll pass it on,’ Sam says as the call cuts out and more messages and pings and calls come in from pro-Elforist officials saying they’ve taken their ships and asking for the Humility to take control of their mainframes.

Chaos all around and Kristi is still on air. Repeating the call for people to stay at home while urging on the Elforists to find the Six.

Sam starts to call out for Penny, thinking to tell her what Chi-Chi said, but he stops and remembers how it felt when they were on the Elfor One shuttle coming back from the Beijing. How it went out of control and plunged into darkness. They had seconds to do something, or they would have slowly died. Either from freezing or from running out of air, alone in space. Left behind by the fleet, because anything falling behind only has a few seconds to catch up. After that it’s too late.

He also thinks about the shuttle crash that killed his mother and father. And the fear they must have felt. He thinks about that and the lives that have been ruined by the Six. He thinks about all of those things, and he accesses the Humility mainframe to use her probes and sensors to pick out the signal of the fast vessel flying out from the Mumbai and aiming towards the front of the fleet.

And he takes that signal, and Sam being Sam, he hacks it and finds the transponder information which he also hacks, which enables him to get into the shuttle’s system, and he takes the virus they used on the Elfor One shuttle and rams it into Binita Bakshi’s luxury shuttle yacht and hits enter, sending the signal that activates far across the fleet with Binita on board her shuttle, breathing deeply to bring about calmness as the lights go out and the power cuts with one thruster burning long enough to send the shuttle into a spin, and with the grav-drives off, she flies up from her luxury leather sofa to slam into the ceiling. Breaking her nose, her blood flying as she’s sent tumbling over the wall and across the floor and over the other wall as the centrifugal gravitational force shifts and tosses her about like a ragdoll. The same with her crew and pilots. All of them crying out in fear and clutching on in terror as the shuttle flies away from the fleet.

Going far, far away.

Without power.

Without heating.

Without air.

And Binita Bakshi screams as she looks through a window to the ships in the fleet that she once controlled growing smaller and smaller by the second, until just a moment or so later, they are gone from view.

And it goes quiet.

It goes very, very quiet.

That is until Sam allows one feed to pop up showing Kristi Carter’s transmission, somewhat crackling and broken from that distance, speaking out into the utter dark silence.

‘It gives me no pleasure to report that five of the Six are now dead. The only one remaining is Mei Ting, aka the Jade Emperor. The captain of the worldship Beijing has contacted the Humility to insist they are not harbouring Mei Ting. And, after the Hutongs rose up against them, they are surrendering immediately and will allow access to any part of their ship to aid the search. If any person in this fleet knows where Mei Ting is, please tell us immediately. I also need to confirm that the bridge on the Ark has been destroyed. And so far, the Humility has severed the links to the Ark mainframe of over half the vessels in this fleet. But I stress again, those still connected do not need to panic. We have control and you will not be moved against your will.’

Kristi pauses. Drawing air as Binita wipes the blood from her chin and feels the coldness closing in around her. Her breath already misting. The windows already frosting over.

‘And I have something else to tell you,’ Kristi says. ‘Something that we all need to know about. Something that Helga found out after sanctioning one of her highly trained agents to stress-test the security of the Fleet Finance offices. Because that agent stole what they thought to be a crypto-bond. But it wasn’t. It was a navigational code, and it was because of that code that the Six started killing everyone in their path. Because that code was for this . . . Sam? Are you ready?’

She steps aside as Sam nods, because while working on everything else, while being on call and on hand and hacking and wiping transponders, and while knowing deep in his heart that he had a chance to be that someone to make that change, he also did this, and he activates his system to take the code he inputted. The code taken from the Gagarin. The code given to Alexei Scrabel. The code hidden in the Fleet Finance offices that was taken by Yasmine and given to Abdul which made Helga raise an army to protect it.

And that code, the code, is taken by the system Sam created on gaining access to the Humility mainframe. Because like he said, the worldship Humility knew where she was the whole time, and with this code, she knows exactly where they need to go.

But he pauses before hitting enter as footsteps bound up the stairwell and he looks over to see Helga stepping back onto her bridge. Her sleeves once more torn off. Her arms once more bloodied. A fat lip. A black eye. But still holding her flexi-pipe.

Olga and Ivan at her back. Bloodied and battered.

Abdul on her left. His face gleaming with ink. Yasmine on Helga’s right. Her face the same. A general now every much as Abdul. A general who stands at her queen’s side as Helga comes to a stop and the rest file out. Zhang, Sun and Po. Jorgey. Clara. Boris and Pasha. Faiza. Ferdy and even Chimpy – who probably killed more than everyone else combined – strolling in with a genial nod.

‘Alright, Pen.’

‘Hey, Chimpy,’ she says into the electric air as Sam takes them all in. Mild Marko. Dil the Cleaner. Sven the Pipe. The people he’s come to know so well since that day he met Yasmine in the lanes of the retail zone. He thinks back to it now, and the sterile life he had before this, while staring at their faces. All of them, all the way to Yasmine, who still just might be the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. And still he doesn’t press the button because they never spoke about this. He never told Helga or anyone that he was going to do this and so he waits as Helga looks back at him while thinking there is still something magical about Sam. They all feel it, and Helga even said it to Yasmine that night she held her.

I rather think Sam might be our only way out of this.

And she was right, because more than all of them, it was Sam lighting the way and everyone else following.

Yasmine remembers those words as she stares across to the man she met that day in the retail zone. The man who saved her when she got caught stealing, and the man who stayed at her side through every single awful thing that happened after that.

Smiling Sam. Gentle Sam. Her Sam.

She goes forward and he smiles as she stops in front of him and for the first time in her life, she can see the genuine love within him.

‘There’s something very magical about you, Sam,’ she says with fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘Thank you for being part of my life and showing me how to be decent.’ She breaks off as he smiles. ‘And thank you for this,’ she adds, motioning the bridge around them, the ship, the fleet, and everything else that Sam has done. ‘I’m going to get therapy. I’m going to get better, and you don’t have to wait for me, I’d never ask that. But maybe one day, when I’m fixed, we can go out for a coffee and chat and . . .’

‘I’ll wait,’ he cuts in, making her laugh as she takes his hand. ‘If Helga will let us,’ he adds as they both turn to see the Ice Queen standing at the front of her army.

‘I shall consider it,’ Helga says with a touch of a smile and a glint in her eyes. ‘But there’s something else you need to do first, Sam. Something you need to show the fleet.’

She nods at him. Telling him it’s okay and he looks at Yasmine doing the same. Nodding and smiling to tell him this is okay. He turns to Kristi. Thinking maybe it’s best coming from her. But she smiles and weeps and shakes her head. ‘This is your story, Sam. Tell the fleet what you know.’

‘I didn’t know,’ he replies as every human being in the fleet stares in mesmerised silence at Sam smiling at the people he loves. At his family all there on the bridge. ‘She knew. The worldship Humility. She always knew where she was going.’

He hits enter as the shimmering virtual red line on the bridge widens as it shoots out and extends all the way back and stops in the air besides him with a sphere coming to life. Spinning on its axis.

A sphere just the right size and just the right distance from the right-sized star.

A sphere filled with shades of greens and blues and yellows and wispy clouds so heartbreakingly similar and yet so very different to Earth.

‘There’s a new planet,’ Sam says. And he smiles again as he hits another button, and the planet shoots forward, out of the front of the bridge and out into space with that red line growing thick and wide and shining bright from the optics powered by the mainframes of several worldships.

And there it is. A big red line shining in front of them.

A big red line leading the way to the new planet.

And Helga was also right about something else. Something that makes Binita shake her head while hurtling away from the fleet in a freezing shuttle.

And something that Mei Ting, in her matt black ship that emits no signal, far out in front of the fleet, also acknowledges with a very rare smile.

Because all they had to do.

All any of them ever had to do was mention a new planet.

And everything else would be forgotten.

Like exactly how Helga Sveinsson wiped the Six out and became the Elfor One.

And Detective Zhang Woo stands with the others. Seeing the thing they’ve been fighting for now released to the fleet as an alert pings on his system.

An alert he set up should a certain cannibalising code be used anywhere in the fleet.

The cannibalising code used by the man that who killed Mahatma Goudier.

And there he is.

The quiet man.

Still alive.