City of Ruins - By Kristine Kathryn Rusch Page 0,43

the leader was, the same team would be back within the hour. If the leader wasn’t, either a new team would enter soon, or the other team would wait some designated amount of time, maybe a full day, before returning.

Coop was going to try to get as much done as possible in the time that he had.

He didn’t monitor the airlock experiment. He had Yash do that from the bridge.

It only took a few minutes. Some of the particles got into the airlock itself, and Coop asked that they be captured instead of expelled.

“We got everything,” Yash said. “It looks like it’s safe to go out there.”

“Do the extensive tests,” Coop said. He wanted to go out there as much as the others, but he had learned about caution the hard way. It was always better to take precautions.

“I’d like to go monitor the experiments,” Yash said.

“No,” Coop said. “I need you here.”

“What for?” she asked. “Standing around waiting?”

He shook his head. “I was thinking we could scrub the particles off the ship’s exterior now that the outsiders are gone. You think it’s safe to do that?”

Yash shrugged. “The preliminary tests came back that the substance is harmless. Essentially, the particles are the same material as the walls, so far as we can tell. I think it’s a bit of a gamble to scrub the ship, but not a major one.”

“Scrub it,” Coop said.

Yash entered the commands. At least that part of the ship was working. It scaled the particulate matter off its hull in a matter of seconds. More particles floated through the air, but the image on the screens was clearer than it had been just a moment ago.

The repair area was still dim. The lights had faded from their normal brightness to something that looked weak and grayish. Maybe that had something to do with particulate cover on the lights themselves. Coop couldn’t know that without a clearer view.

As the particulate matter settled down, he noted that the equipment closest to the exits appeared to be running. He could see lights and some of the screens above the control panels. But as he looked farther into the distance, farther away from the main door, he couldn’t see anything. The depths of the repair room seemed particularly dark.

“I still can’t get the systems to talk to each other, Coop,” Yash said. “I don’t think the problem is on our end. I seem to be making an exterior request, but nothing is coming back at us.”

He nodded, then folded his hands behind his back.

He was going to have no choice, then.

Someone was going to have to venture into that room.

* * * *

TWENTY-ONE

B

oss? Come in. Boss?”

The moment we step outside the door, I hear Fahd Al-Nasir in my comm links. His voice is tense and strangled, as if he’s holding back an even greater emotion.

“Boss? Orlando? Elaine? Anyone?” That’s Nyssa Quinte. There’s no strangulation in her voice. Just full-on panic. “Someone?”

“I’m here,” I say, and I actually hear a sigh of relief, even though I can’t tell whose it is.

The corridor seems the same. I can’t tell what’s different. There are no particles floating here. The lights are as dim as they were when we went in.

“Boss, we need to get the hell out of here,” Al-Nasir says. “Right now.”

“What happened?” DeVries asks.

“We’re not sure,” Quinte says, “but it’s bad. It’s really bad.”

We sprint to the junction. I’m in the lead, my heart pounding. I almost pull off my helmet to get fresher air, then change my mind. I have no idea what “bad” is.

Quinte and Al-Nasir stand exactly where we left them, at the junction between corridors that lead to the room. Everything looks the same, except the two of them.

They’re shaking, and Quinte’s face is red inside her helmet.

“What happened?” I ask.

She points down the other corridor, the one that leads to Mikk and Roderick, waiting for us. It’s dark down there, which strikes me as unusual.

“Were we inside longer than planned?” Rea asks. We all know that time fields around stealth tech can get screwed up.

“No,” Al-Nasir says. “Go look.”

The other three have caught up with us. The seven of us crowd the corridor. Seager hangs back, along with Kersting. They’re past their limits; they don’t want anything to do with another disaster.

I walk purposely down that corridor. And as I get closer, I see why it’s dark.

Chunks of the black material, bolstered by rock, have fallen down at the very place that we believe divides

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