“I’m not sure it’s that simple,” he says eventually. “CitiFutura never received a distress call, or a request for help.” He hesitates. “Claire. It’s not the same as Ferris—”
“I know that,” I snap. And I do—Ferris was obvious negligence and this appears to be simply an unanticipated and terrible outcome to a new venture—but itfeelssimilar. Careless. Reckless with human life. Arrogant.
“Someone did try,” Lourdes points out.
We both look at her.
“The automated distress beacon,” she says, enunciating each word carefully. “Remember? If the ship wasn’t in distress, someone had to trigger its release. Right?”
“She’s right,” Nysus says after a moment, sounding stunned. “If the ship was shut down deliberately, then the ship itself wouldn’t have met conditions to trigger the distress beacon. Someone must have set it off.”
“But that would have to be someone with access, and that means bridge crew,” Kane says. “The captain. First officer. Pilot. Maybe the security chief.” He frowns. “But why wouldn’t they have tried to keep the ship on course and powered up instead?” He shakes his head. “None of this makes sense.”
“And it never will,” Voller says flatly, from behind us.
Lourdes jumps, startled.
“Enough,” Kane says, turning to face Voller.
Voller gives a harsh laugh. “Of course you’re still defending her.”
“I don’t need any defending,” I say sharply, turning toward Voller. “I’m the—”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re the TL. The one in charge. But have youconsidered that maybe you shouldn’t be? I mean, even the saint here”—he jerks his hand in a wild gesture that comes dangerously close to Kane’s face—“isn’t sure walking away is the right move.”
I stiffen, gaze shooting automatically to Kane.
He looks away, unable to meet my eyes.
Hurt sears like a fresh burn from touching a still-hot engine, but I shove the pain down, forcing myself to focus on the issue at hand.
“I’m trying to keep us safe.” I inch closer to Voller, crowding him in the already crowded galley. “Let me ask you something. Do you think that cushy job of yours is still going to be there when you bring back proof that someone on the CitiFutura crew killed everyone on board? VeruxboughtCitiFutura. They’re one and the same now. Do you think Verux is going to pat you on the back and give you a fat bonus for bringing back that news and all the trouble that will come with it?” Especially with Zenit, their latest competitor, breathing down Verux’s collective necks. First it was Verux on CitiFutura. Now it’s Zenit on Verux. It’s always someone, a company-eat-company-eat-company world.
“We don’t know that’s what happened. We don’tknowanything,” Voller says pointedly. “Maybe shut down was the safest option. Someone set off that beacon, trying to get help. Maybe that was the only choice for whoever was in charge at the time.”
Taking a step back from him, I roll my eyes. Right.
“I mean, clearly, the captain lost her shit,” he continues. “And the first officer had to—”
“You don’t know that,” I say, oddly defensive of Linden Gerard.
Kane sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Claire is right,” he says finally. “As much as I’d like to turn this over to Verux so the families of the passengers and crew will have some closure, I don’t think we have that option. With something this big, even money says Verux will try to cover it up.”
Lourdes gasps. “They wouldn’t do that.”
A harsh laugh bubbles up from my throat. “They would. They have.” Never in any of the Ferris Outpost post-tragedy analysis was there a mention of the air filters and Verux’s decision to hold offon sending more. The focus of those news stories was my rescue and the valiant work “the medical team” had done to try to save everyone before the virus took over.
And as for the colony itself, all the habs were burned in a planned detonation. For “safety.” That included all of the dead. My mother never came home from Mars. She has no grave for me to visit. No place for me to see her name or leave flowers. My father, whom I barely remember, rests in a cemetery alone on Earth, with a blank headstone connected to his, where my mother is supposed to be.
Kane nods. “Verux won’t want the financial hit that this story will bring. Not to mention the bad optics. They’re not exactly CitiFutura, but with that merger, they’re close enough,” he continues. “And if we try to speak up anyway, Verux can just fire us and claim we’re disgruntled ex-employees, lying about finding theAurorato cause trouble.” He hesitates, conflict flickering in his expression, and I know he’s thinking about his daughter. “I can’t afford that.”
“But we have proof!” Voller points toSpeedandGrace. “And we would have had more ifClairehadn’t—”
“It won’t matter,” I say. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Who’s going to listen to us over the sound of a hundred Verux lawyers?” My emotions are complicated on that subject. The same web of corporate secrecy and complicated legal maneuvers that had protected Verux for decades had also protected my name and identity. People were interested in me, the survivor, but they would have been even more interested in learning the cause of the Ferris Outpost disaster. The old air filters, yes. But also the Ferris resident who broke quarantine and inadvertently caused the deaths of seventy-three men, women, and children.
So, yes, Verux kept me safe, fed me, housed me, along with any other children who had been left parentless by their various operations/decisions. But those other children were innocent, and I was not.
I am Verux’s very own dirty little secret. Perhaps not the only one.
