Simon sat on the floor beside Nick’s bed. It hurt to bend his injured knee, so he left it extended as he leaned his weight on the mattress. The oxygen tube was reinserted into Nick’s nostrils. Joining it was a nasogastric tube, inserted at Dr. Haley’s request. Nick was never eating enough when awake, and he’d been out for more than thirty-six hours when Simon acceded to the request. The nutrients joined the saline solution they fed him through an IV just above his knuckles.

  Even with all that, his brother had grown noticeably thinner over the past weeks. His skin was pale, his eyes, when they were open, were dark and bloodshot. He’d endured a low fever for several days now, but over the past few hours, it had spiked to 103°F and refused to break despite medicinal interventions. His heart rate was a ridiculous 190 bpm, pounding as if he were in a full sprint despite just lying there.

  “Director?”

  Simon pushed himself up to a stand, grabbed his cane from where it leaned against the wall, and used it to help him turn. Dr. Haley stood waiting with a tablet in hand, her face lit by its glow in the dim light of Nick’s room. Only Simon’s stubbornness had kept Nick there instead of transferred to the med ward. After all, how serious could his condition be if he was still sleeping in his room?

  “Yes?” he asked Haley.

  She started to tilt the tablet so he could see the results, then changed her mind and clutched it to her chest.

  “I have the results of Nick’s recent blood tests. This isn’t sustainable, Director. His body is constantly pumped full of adrenaline, and it’s undergoing every textbook symptom of heightened stress hormones. Despite his appearance of sleep, he is not resting, which is affecting his blood pressure and heart rate. Even if his heart doesn’t give out, there’s a good chance he will suffer permanent damage to his liver and kidneys, not to mention the dangers of decreased functionality of his immune system as this continues to—”

  “I get it,” Simon finally interrupted. He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to focus through the migraine pounding in his forehead. “Whatever is happening to him is wrecking his body, and he needs rest. What I don’t know is what I’m supposed to do about it.”

  Dr. Haley’s frown hardened into iron.

  “Your brother needs sleep. Real sleep. Which means breaking contact with the Artifact.”

  Simon glanced over his shoulder at his sick, feverish younger brother. Nick’s mouth opened and closed, as if he were trying to speak, yet no words came. He looked so pained, so miserable, it filled Simon with dread.

  “We’ve tried,” he said, shaking his head. “Every material available and every shielding method known to us, they’ve all failed. Whatever signal is reaching Nick, it passes right through them. There’s nothing left to try.”

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  “That isn’t true. You just refuse to accept it as a possibility.”

  Simon’s expression hardened to match Haley’s. His grip tightened on the curve of his cane.

  “And what, pray tell, is that?”

  Haley set the tablet with the results down on the bedside table, letting it join the rest of the machinery there. Her fingers brushed against a silver medallion hanging from her neck, two hands cupped together to form a circle, holding within it six beads that represented the six planets of Eden’s solar system. It was the religious symbol of the Guidance, those who believed the universe had been shaped and molded since the moment of its creation. Simon had never been much for attending their seminars, but their faith had an undeniable hold on millions, one that had grown stronger with humanity’s spread across the stars with each subsequent new world gate.

  “I will argue this only once, Director,” Haley said. “After this, his life is in your hands and out of mine. In my professional opinion, whatever is happening to Nick is killing him. He needs his connection to the Artifact severed, and the sooner, the better. Put him on a shuttle and send him through the world gate. I don’t care what signal that Artifact uses, it will not reach Nick across nine light-years’ worth of distance.”

  “Need I remind you that we are under dark quarantine?”

  “You are station director and can lift and enact that quarantine at your own discretion. That isn’t an excuse.” She reached out to brush his arm. “I can go with him, Simon. Just the two of us on the shuttle. I’ll keep quiet about the cause when we arrive at Salus, and say we left because we lacked proper care on our station amid the quarantine. All else I will keep to myself. You can trust me on that.”

  Simon watched his brother’s clear and obvious suffering. A thousand excuses bounced around his mind, so many of them guided by fear.

  “We don’t know the potential damage that might occur from severing his connection,” he said, one of his few remaining arguments.

  “No, we don’t,” Haley said. “But we do know what the connection is already doing to him.”

  “And what if breaking the connection by going through the world gate leaves him comatose, or worse?”

  The older woman shook her head.

  “I won’t lie, Director, there are risks. And as I said, it is out of my hands now. Make your choice and stand by it. I just wanted my opinion known, if only for my own conscience when I close my eyes before the Guidance.”

  The doctor left Simon alone with his younger brother. The rapid beat of the heart monitor and the faint hum of the oxygenation device were the only noises. Simon stared at the closed door, wanting to shout for Haley to come back, to take his brother and flee through the world gate, dangers and quarantine be damned.

  He wanted to do it but did not. Nick would never forgive him. Whatever he was experiencing was a miracle, and it needed to be understood and shared. Haley might disagree, but she also did not know about the destruction of the Vasth world gate. He’d locked that information down, so only he and Essa knew.

  Simon settled into the chair beside Nick’s bed, laid his cane across his lap, and leaned into the cushion. His gaze lingered on the sleeping Nick and the pained expression permanently etched upon his face. Whatever was happening to him, it had to be new, something he hadn’t encountered before. He’d never looked so miserable before, not even during his many supposed “deaths.”

  It will pass, he told himself. It always does. Nick’s strong enough for this. Brave enough. He’ll persevere.

  But still, that fever. That heart rate. Simon leaned closer, settled his hand over Nick’s, and winced at the clammy heat of his skin.

  “What are they doing to you, Nick?” he wondered as he clutched those fingers tightly and held on long into the night.