Page 34 of Carousel

Drake’s eyes instantly open, and he smacks my hand away, gagging.

From behind me, Cosmer mutters, “Glad you could join us.”

I help Drake sit up, then reach back to return the salts to Dezeeves.

I’m more conscious than ever of how close we all are for comfort. Especially now I have Cosmer and Drake on either side of me.

When can we get out of this metal box?

There’s a noise from outside. Ahead of us, another door opens. Two bulky, hairy monsters with brassy faces, goggles over their eyes, nozzles over their mouths, and cylinders on their backs, are trudging towards us. It’s such a frightening sight it makes me jump back in my seat.

“Just engineers,” Cosmer explains quickly, only half-looking at me, like looking at me properly is the last thing he’d choose to do right now. “It can get cold in these docking pods, hence the furs. The oxygen masks are just a precaution in case there’s ever a problem with the hatch doors.”

So, not monsters. Just people.

“Oxygen. We need that to breathe, don’t we?” I vaguely remember that science lesson with my tutor.

Dezeeves beams. “Excellent. She knows more than the average recruit we get already.”

I notice the engineers are rolling in large white balloons on wheels.

“What’s in them?” I ask.

“Osimidite,” Drake and Cosmer say at the same time, then both glare at each other.

I hear hissing. The engineers have connected the balloons to the ship.

Then there’s a flash of bright light. It’s coming from a large gauge in the wall.

“Oxygen’s stable,” Cosmer says to me, grasping for the door.

He uses both hands to slide it up, then he leaps out of the ship, contorting a little in the air like an acrobat. He lands lightly, and takes a deep bow.

No one claps.

CHAPTER 8

The Assassin in the Night

Outside the docking pod, it’s a different world. I could be standing in a hallway in a manor house. The walls are panelled. The ceiling is high. The wooden floor is scrubbed clean. Rather than candles, the space is lit by sticks of laser light, and at least a dozen soldiers in red and brown uniforms are heading quickly up or down the hallway.

Cosmer leads us towards a grand staircase. Drake and I follow with Dezeeves tailing after us.

As if from nowhere, a woman pops up by Cosmer’s side and falls into step with him. She’s short and slight with cropped, mousy-coloured hair, and she treads confidently, firmly, head held high. Her young age aside, she looks in many ways more like a captain than Dezeeves does.

“I won,” she tells Cosmer playfully.

“I’m not accepting that.”

“It’s going on the winners’ board.”

“No, it’s not.”

Dezeeves’ voice cuts in from behind us.

“Riss. Superb timing.”

We all stop walking. The woman named Riss turns.