Chapter 7 · Ward Seven

The airlock cycled before I could say no.

Cold hit my teeth. My boots stuck to the deck like somebody spilled glue ten years ago and never scraped it. Senna shoved me through anyway.

"Move," she said. "If that cruiser circles back, we're meat."

I moved. Not because I trusted her. Because the hunters we'd just lost were still out there, and this dead med ship had opened its mouth like it already knew my name.

Lights stuttered on in strips. White. Too white. The kind they use when they don't want you looking too close at the stains.

The air smelled like old sterilizer and something sweet under it. Sweet like fruit left in a locker. I swallowed and tasted metal.

"Senna."

"I see it."

Ward markers ran down the bulkhead in faded yellow. WARD 3. WARD 4. The numbers climbed as we walked and my pulse climbed with them. I didn't know why. My head said I'd never been here. My hands already knew which way not to turn.

"This is a graveyard," I said. "We should be gone."

"You wanted answers." Senna's rifle sat against her shoulder like it belonged there. Fleet security, even on the run.