“Kovalik!” Diaz shouts. “What is going on?”
“Just stay back,” I say. “Give me a second.” More people in here might confuse Kane further, if there’s anything left of his mind capable of discerning reality. And that might not be the case. He—and Nysus—have been alone since I apparently left them here. Then Nysus died—or was killed, oh God—and Kane was on his own. Of all people, I know what that kind of isolation can do to a mind.And that was without whatever is on theAuroraand causing this madness to begin with.
Shame heats my blood.
I flip the release latch on my helmet, and the hiss of the pressure seal jerks Kane’s attention toward me. He watches as if I’m a snake about to strike. Moving slowly, I remove my helmet and set it to the side.
The air is stale and smells of old sweat, fresh panic, and unwashed skin. And beneath that, the pungent stench of rot—it hits the back of my throat with a punch and I gag involuntarily.
All of it immediately transports me back twenty-plus years and for a moment, I’m lost in a darkened corridor, the only living person on the planet for thousands of kilometers and listening for the impossible whisper of my mother’s voice.
Then Kane lunges at me, his teeth bared. “Get out!” His gaze seems sharper now, focused on me instead of my vague direction.
I jump, startled, but manage to overrule the reflex to step back. “Kane, it’s Claire. Kovalik.”
This time, though, he seems to have no problem recognizing me. “Get out!” he bellows.
A spike of fear mixed with despair stabs straight through my heart.He knows what I did, he doesn’t want me here.Even if it’s as part of a rescue. A much-too-late rescue.
“Kane,” I begin, stricken. “I’m sorry, I—”
“I’m coming in,” Diaz calls, and I make the mistake of glancing toward the door.
“No,” I say. “Just give me another—”
Kane launches himself at me, and I catch the blur of motion a split second before his body collides with mine, hard.
We hit the mattresses at an awkward angle, my arm caught beneath me, making it impossible to adequately defend myself or even hold him back. Though, do I have the right to even attempt it? Isn’t this what I deserve for what I did?
But he doesn’t lock his fingers around my throat or slam a fist into my face.
Instead, he’s staring down at me, his hands planted on either side of me, his head cocked to one side and forehead furrowed with confusion as if he can’t quite figure out what he’s seeing. Beneath the tangles of his hair, a flash of familiar orange. Earplugs. Like the ones in our ears right now.
Like the first officer of theAurorawhen we found his body. He was still wearing them. And we found those other pairs in the trunk in the emergency crew bunk room.
“Why did you—” I begin.
“Back off!” Diaz shouts, pushing her way into the room, her weapon aimed at him. Reed squeezes in after her.
“Don’t!” I say. “It’s fine, I’m fine.” I don’t want Kane to panic, and Diaz to shoot him if he moves in her direction.
But Kane, after a quick glance up at Diaz and Reed, dismisses them entirely. “I told you, itisher,” he says instead, addressing an empty spot three feet to his left.
The hope that was filling my chest drains out with a gurgle.
He turns his attention back to me, but his expression is like that of someone caught in a fever dream. Alert but still distant. Here, but not. “I knew you’d come back.”
Guilt pummels me, but before I can even formulate a response, he continues the conversation. “No, no, that’s not what I said.” He glares at another invisible person, this one on his right. “I will. I will tell her.”
Diaz makes a noise somewhere between disgust and pity and lowers her weapon. Off to the side, Reed stands stiffly—as stiffly as one can on a mattress—looking both annoyed and disappointed. That Kane is alive and he, Reed, was wrong.
Guess that apology for calling me a murderer is not going to be forthcoming. Though, just because I didn’t kill my crew for a larger prize, as Reed accused, doesn’t mean I didn’t just as surely get them killed.
Kane backs off me, and then offers me a hand in an absurdlynormal gesture. After a moment of hesitation, I take it and he pulls me up.
Pain zings through my ankle, and I wince. Kane holds on to my arm until I have my balance.
“The mattresses make it better. Softer,” he says in a conspiratorial voice, leaning closer.
