Page 67 of Mutant Mine

Full of nervous energy, I head into the bathroom and slam the bolt across behind me.

When I was younger, I always used to cry in the shower, so that no one could hear me. Hidden behind a locked doorand the sound of running water, I can allow myself to be vulnerable.

Old habits die hard. My face is already crumpling as I pull off my clothes. I end up sitting on the floor of the shower cubicle and sobbing.

I didn’t allow myself to cry when the ship went dark. Not when I was dragged in front of the crowd in the canteen and dumped at Roth’s feet. And not after I killed a man for the first time. But now, everything I’ve been holding inside — all that confusion, pain, and fear — comes gushing out.

Thinking about how much hot water I’m wasting only makes me feel worse. Tommy and Ellis would probably kill for a shower to cry in right now. They must not have had a proper wash for almost a fortnight. They haven’t even seen a medic. And I let the man responsible… What iswrongwith me?

I don’t know how long I’m in the shower. Eventually, I run out of tears. There’s just nothing left. I feel hollow — cleared out. Ringingly empty.

For a while, I focus on getting my painful, hiccupping breaths back under control. Close my eyes. Breathe deeply, in and out. Feel the water washing over my chest, my stomach, my legs. Listen to the white noise of the spray.

Then I start to think.

Roth is flying us in circles. Why? Does that mean there’s nowhere safe for us to go? Are the engines damaged, or do we not have enough fuel left to reach a habitable planet? I don’t believe Roth is suicidal — so why the hell would he be doing this if there were any other option?

He said he was waiting for something. What could he possibly be waiting for in this patch of empty space, that wasn’t there the first two times (!) we flew through it?

Something that moves. Fast. Through space. To a specificlocation.

Okay. Either he’s waiting for us to drift into the path of another asteroid and get blown instantly to smithereens, or he’s waiting for another ship.

Who would be on that ship?

That seems pretty simple to answer. After Watergap, all the rest of the terrorists escaped. Roth was the only one captured alive. His accomplices have been on the galaxy’s list of most wanted fugitives ever since. The pictures they showed on the news — sketchy stills taken from CCTV footage of the Watergap attack — were memorable, to say the least. Towering, horned figures, caught in freeze-frames of violence and destruction. They made the armed guards trying to contain them look like toy soldiers.

Does that mean that this entire thing was a plot by the rest of his escaped companions to bust Roth out of prison? Did they sabotage the Hades? He said that we would be “safe”, no matter what happened. I guess he would view that as safety: being reunited with his partners in crime. But if it was all some big plan, why would he think they’ll onlymaybeshow up?

If he is meeting them somehow, they surely won’t be expecting him to have some random girl with him — especially not a prison guard. And at the end of the day, they have murdered people who stood in their way before. So has Roth.

I curl into a tighter ball with a groan. I can’t figure it out.

I’m going to die here, in the best bedroom I ever had. And I’m going to die alone.

…But I’m not alone on the ship. Some of my crewmates are alive and well. Aren’t they?

For days, I’ve just been taking Roth’s word on that. I haven’t actually seen them myself since I was first caughttrying to release them from their cells. He promised that he’s been to visit them, but who knows what’s real anymore? He also swore to me that we were well on our way to Caster-391.

There’s only one way to find out. And I can’t stand being in this place anymore, anyway.

Soaping up feels medicinal. I wash my puffy face, unfurl my body, and reconstitute my melted-down self back into human form. Once I’m dried and dressed, I open the door to the flight deck very carefully, and peek inside. I know now that Roth could have gone around the ship and entered from the other side.

Thankfully, the room is empty. I thought he may have stayed close by, but no. There’s no sign of him — and nothing to stop me. I swallow down the lump in my throat.

Quick and quiet, I scuttle across the exposed space, open up the maintenance hatch that I noticed earlier, and drag myself inside.

34

Roth

FOR LONG, desperate hours, I am plunged into despair.

Rory has left the sanctuary of our rooms. She is in danger. She could be anywhere. She could be at anybody’s mercy. All the joy of the message on the screen turns to ashes in my mouth. Where do I begin to look? Who will I have to tear apart to reach her?

My first clear thought is her crewmates. That is who she went to last time she was moving freely through the ship.

I head to maximum security at once, fast but controlled. I cannot run, or the men will panic, but my heart pounds as hard as if I had been sprinting. I am so sure that I will see her when I round the corner — but no. The guards in the cells stare at me apprehensively, wondering why I have come to loom silently from the top of their corridor.

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