Page 13 of Mutant Mine

If she makes a sound, I will have to kill them. They are so close to me, in the dark. It would be easy.

But I do not want to shed any more blood than necessary. I suspect that many people will die over the next few days. I will take no pleasure in it. It is far better to be merciful where I can. Soon, there may be no room for mercy.

That is why, instead of reaching for their throats, I pull Finch’s small, soft body against mine and shelter her against the wall. To keep in that cry which would condemn two men to death, I cover her mouth, and say, as gently as I can:

“Be silent, girl.”

I do not expect the visceral relief that floods my body when I hold her.

For a moment, the busy world falls silent. I am not aware of anything else. Only her. I breathe in lightly through my mouth, tasting flowers and sweat. My eyes drift closed.

My hand tightens over her face as her lips move against my palm.

It takes me too long to notice that I have reacted physically to her proximity. I try to move away so that she does not feel it. But I have failed — she is pulling back from me.

I understand. Of course she is afraid.

It does not truly hurt when she strikes me. More than anything, I am surprised — and then pleased by her courage. Good. She will need that if she is to survive the ordeal ahead of us all.

But I have made a mistake. While I am distracted, she slips out of my grasp and is gone like a shot. I follow her, but there are too many men out here, moving aimlessly, blocking the space. The sound-image in my mind blurs and fails. I cannot tell which movement is her — cannot follow. It is not long before I have lost her altogether.

It is too late. I will have to let her go, for now. She was barely in my grasp, and now she is gone.

A long snarl of frustration escapes me.

But I soon recollect myself. There is no time to lose control. I must believe that she will find her own way to live through the night. She is fast on her feet, smart, and decisive.

Perhaps we are connected after all. I am a survivor — and so, I believe, is she.

We will meet again. Soon.

For now, I have other business to attend to.

9

Rory

I’VE BECOMEa mole person. I live in the maintenance crawlways, surrounded by cables, pipes, and tiny flashing status lights. I shuffle through the walls without being noticed. I spy on people through the vents. That’s my life now, I guess.

It could be worse. A lot worse.

It’s been around twelve hours since the ship’s power went down. The lights were only off for about five minutes — but those five minutes were a bloodbath. When the lights came back up, this much was clear: the future of the Hades and everyone on board has changed forever.

The other guards are all dead. For the first few hours, there was so much screaming as the prisoners vented years of pent-up rage on them. It was pure horror. I curled up into a ball and covered my ears, crying as quietly as I could.

It was worse when the screams finally started to fade away.

After a while, I realized that although the ship’s basic power is back up, none of the more complex systems have restarted, including the life support systems. It’s getting colder, and without the carbon dioxide scrubber, fresh air will be running out hour by hour. The ship’s quiet, too, with no engine sound — meaning we’re stationary in space.

Shivering cold, breathing as little as possible… For a while there, I thought this must be the end for all of us. Then that calm, distant part of myself figured that if I was going to die, Imight as well go and have a look around.

The maintenance crawlways form a complex network of tunnels that access most parts of the ship. I have to move slowly and carefully, to make sure that no one hears me — but I’ve discovered that I can get around pretty well. There are ladders between the ship’s floors, a comfortably wide main passageway, and smaller ventilation shafts branching off to the sides. The vent shafts, scattered with narrow slits cut into walls and ceilings throughout the ship, provide a good vantage point for watching and listening. I can be right behind a man, mere feet away, without him noticing.

After the initial hours of chaos, fighting for dominance with the guards and each other, the prisoners began to calm down. And eventually, as the temperature dropped and our breath began to frost, everyone seemed to figure out that we’re in big, big trouble. Some kind of order is needed.Somethinghas to happen.

The crew canteen is the largest room on the ship, and the men gradually began to flow towards it.

I’ve crawled my way there myself, and am now looking down on the room from above. It’s packed with people. Several tables have been pushed together in the center, forming a kind of stage. The bolder men leap up to address the baying, restless masses.

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