Simon awoke from a fitful sleep to the beeping alert of his brother’s heart monitor. The alarm quickly dashed away his grogginess as he leaned closer.

  “Two hundred bpm?” he said, and pressed the back of his hand against Nick’s forehead. His skin was warm and damp with sweat. A glance at a different monitor showed him building a fever, his temperature starting to crest over 100°F. A troubling sign on its own, though the more worrisome part was why.

  “What are you doing?” he asked the quiet dark. He slumped over the bed, his temples pulsing with a growing migraine. “I hate this, Nick. I hate it. I wish I could be in there with you. I wish I could help instead of sitting here and—”

  A deep rumbling shook the station, and then gravity itself shifted. Simon flew toward one of the walls, shouting as he collided hard with his right shoulder. Nick’s bed was bolted down, but the same could not be said for Nick, who slid off and started to roll. Simon caught him the best he could, for a second rumble followed, and the axis of gravity pivoted in the reverse direction. The station was trying to correct itself.

  “I got you,” Simon said, holding the catatonic Nick to his chest. His stomach did loops as the floor resumed being a proper floor for far too short a time. Again, it felt like the world spun underneath him, the pull of gravity shifting around forty-five degrees or so. On his wrist, his watch flared with angry lights, warnings from the research station’s moderating AI as well as various members of his staff. Those warnings were echoed by a constant droning alarm from the main corridor, which was now awash with light despite the late cycle hour.

  Shifting Nick’s weight onto his right arm, he lifted his wrist, ignoring the alerts to answer a call request from one specific individual: Carter, his head of engineering.

  “Good, you’re unharmed,” Carter’s voice said. “Apologies for the gravity, but stabilization is going to take some time.”

  “Forget the gravity,” Simon said. “What just happened?”

  An image flashed onto his watch from an exterior station camera. Simon’s stomach sank at the sight: Debris floated through space, and alongside the curve of the station, he saw a gaping chunk missing. He had a sudden, horrible feeling he knew of someone who would want to blow a hole in his station.

  “Director Lemley’s shuttle exploded,” said Carter. “Automated security locked down the corridor on both sides, and from what I can tell, there’s no fires or vacuum leaks beyond the shuttle bay. Impact threw off our rotation. I’m scanning now for damage done to the rest of the station by the ejected debris.”

  Simon breathed a sigh of relief. Without a fire or air leak, the station would survive. That relief, though, was fleeting.

  “Do what you can to stabilize,” Simon said. “Contact me if you need help.”

  He ended the communication and initiated a new one, this time to Daksh. No response.

  Shit.

  “Sorry, Nick,” Simon said, hoisting his brother back onto the bed. Once he replaced the covers, he reached underneath the bed and felt along the side bar. Every bed had a Velcro wrap attached to it in case of prolonged loss of gravity. Finding it, he pulled it up, looped it over Nick, and then connected it to the strip attached to the other side.

  Satisfied that his brother probably wouldn’t fly out of bed, Simon rushed through the door, his stun gun gripped tightly in hand. Another rumble, another shift, and he stumbled into a hard slam against the opposite wall. He grimaced at the pain as the noise of the alarms blared through his mind. Multiple men and women were already in the main corridor, checking on one another or heading to their stations if they were part of the maintenance crew.

  Simon ignored their worried looks and pushed past them.

  “We’ll be fine,” he said to their questions. “We’ll be fine.”

  A minute later, he reached the guest room door. Daksh lay on the ground before it, a small smear of blood on the nearby wall. A woman knelt beside him, emergency kit open at her feet. It took Simon a moment to recognize her with her brown hair untied and her eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

  “Haley,” he said, addressing the doctor in charge of their med ward. “Is he all right?”

  Haley glanced up at him.

  “Concussion,” she said. “And he should be all right, assuming we don’t all get sucked out into the vacuum. What happened? Were we struck by a meteor?”

  “Sorry, no time to explain,” Simon said, stepping past her to the guest room door. It was open. The inside was empty. Simon forced back a curse as he lifted his watch.

  “Seventy-nine, locate Director Lemley.”

  Director Jakob Lemley has a privacy order in place.

  “Override it and tell me where he is.”

  Override unavailable. You do not possess proper organizational rank.

  Simon bit down another curse. Planetary directors were some of the most important officials in the entire OPC. Despite this being Simon’s station, Lemley could still pull rank, especially if he claimed it was due to an emergency. Simon could order a station-wide lockdown, but it wouldn’t hold. Lemley could almost certainly bypass it with his clearance.

  Simon’s hand tightened on the trigger of his gun. He’d have to do this the old-fashioned way. Of course, this still left the question of where to search.

  The research station resembled a spoked wheel, with the vast majority of rooms and labs built along the outer edge, where the rotation would create a strong gravitational pull. Elevators ran through two of the spokes for quicker traversal between sections of the station. The remaining spokes led to the inner areas of the station: liquid oxygen storage, fuel storage, cargo holds, and water and air circulation, as well as the multiple batteries collecting energy beamed in from their dozen satellite solar arrays.

  Simon’s gut said to search the fuel storage next. A fire starting there could sweep through much of the station, consuming vital oxygen at the same time. And should it reach the oxygen tanks themselves, well…

  “Shan, you in the command center?” Simon spoke into his watch as he jogged toward one of the tunnels leading toward the inner core of the station.

  His second-in-command, a bespectacled man ten years his senior named Shan Lai, appeared on the screen. He looked exhausted, his round, chubby face stretched into a tight frown.

  “I am, as should you be. Where are you?”

  “On my way to…” He paused to think. “Oxygen bay one. I want you to send Bethany and Isaac to depot two and Naheed to three. And get someone to check the fuel tanks, too.”

  Shan’s brow furrowed. “You suspect sabotage.”

  “Am I wrong to?”

  His second-in-command shook his head. “No. You’re not. We’ve confirmed Lemley’s shuttle as the source of the explosion. That means we cannot rule out the possibility of it being intentional.”

  “Any idea how it happened?” Simon asked as he sprinted.

  “We never sent a scanning crew into the shuttle. Might have been technical issues. Might have been a bomb.”

  Panic welled in Simon’s chest. Smuggling a bomb through a world gate would be extremely difficult, but not impossible. Lemley was a brilliant man and carried a lot of authority. Given the damage done to their station, there was no ruling out that possibility. It seemed more and more likely that the blast was intentional and that Lemley was trying to…what? Kill them all? But the shuttle’s destruction had not been severe enough to do any lasting damage, which meant if Lemley sought to finish the job, his options were limited.

  Simon stopped at a marked door, grabbed the handle, and pulled it open to reveal a room no larger than a closet containing a ladder. Due to the nature of the station’s design, no matter where you were, approaching the interior meant going “up.” Normally there were service elevators, but those were shut off because of the emergency status, necessitating use of ladders instead. Simon climbed as fast as he could, building up a layer of sweat. With each rung, the pull of the artificial gravity lessened. In the direct center, he’d feel nearly weightless, but his destination was thankfully not that far.

  The various storage and engineering rooms were to either side of him, with sealed doors labeled with giant letters. At the first oxygen bay, he stepped off the ladder and readied his stun gun. His free hand grabbed the handle and pulled.

  Director Lemley stood at the entrance of the bay, and he spun around at the sound of the door opening. One of the emergency oxygen tanks was strapped to his back, its mask tied firmly to his face. He stood with one hand on the handle to the door. The other held a firearm pointed at Simon’s chest.

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  “No closer,” Lemley said, the director’s voice slightly muffled by the mask. “There’s no need for you to die a painful death.”

  “If I let you stay in there, I’ll die anyway. Looks like you aim to kill us all.”

  “Aye, I do,” Lemley said. “But it will be quick.” He gestured at the communicator watch on Simon’s wrist. “Leave it be. No one needs to be afraid. The rupture will be sudden, and death instantaneous. Give your people that, Director. You owe it to them.”

  “I owe it to them to stop you.”

  The older man frowned and nodded.

  “Yes,” he said. “I suppose you do.”

  He lowered the pistol and pulled the trigger. Simon screamed as searing pain shot through his left knee. The entire leg collapsed as the sound of pinging metal filled his ears. The bullet ricocheted through the hall but thankfully halted without causing further harm. Blood pooled beneath him, the drops slowly hovering to join the rest due to the lesser gravity.

  Simon lifted his stun gun, but before he could pull the trigger, Lemley batted it out of his grasp and then smacked him in the forehead with the butt of the pistol. Simon’s vision swam, and he collapsed onto his side. His own blood smeared across his face.

  “A shame, what must be done,” Lemley said, breathing heavily into his mask. “You were a fine director. Brave. Quick-witted. Committed to science. If only you had never stumbled upon the Artifact. But I suppose this path became fate the moment this station was assigned to Majus.”

  “I don’t…” Simon paused to gasp against another wave of pain coursing through him from his foolish attempt to sit up. “I don’t understand.”

  Lemley knelt before him.

  “It wants to be found,” he said, staring straight into Simon’s eyes with a crazed intensity. “And so you found it. It is a jar of vipers. A poisoned pill. If humanity is to endure, all traces of it must be expunged.”

  He stood and returned to the entrance, yanking it open with his free hand and stepping back inside.

  “Seventy-nine, lock the bay door behind me. Deny all attempts to enter until my order.”

  Simon did not need to hear the AI’s response to know it would obey. Lemley stepped within the bay, holding the door slightly ajar.

  “If I could, I would throw the damned thing into Majus’s sun and spare your lives,” he said. “But alas, I only do what I can and pray the Artifact is flung into the deepest depths of space, never to be found again. Farewell, Director.”

  The door slammed shut. Simon pushed to his feet, holding back a scream when he put the slightest bit of weight onto his shattered knee. Hobbling on one leg, he left a trail of blood behind him, the drops floating weirdly as they fell. There was a small, heavily reinforced window in the center of the door, and through it, Simon could see the planetary director approach one of the consoles before the enormous liquid oxygen tanks within.

  Simon’s mind raced for a solution. Lemley had a plan of some sort, likely an eruption of one tank that would cause a chain reaction to detonate the others. The force could easily crack the station in half, flinging everyone within into the freezing darkness of space. He slammed a fist against the door, furious his station AI could be so easily turned against him.

  But he realized that Lemley, in his haste, had only issued an order about the door—nothing else. An idea formed, one that made Simon sick to his stomach. The bay was designed with multiple safety features in case oxygen leaked, including complete remote control over the pressurization system.

  There was no time to consider the repercussions. He would do what needed to be done.

  “Carter!” Simon shouted hurriedly into his watch, turning away from the thick window.

  “Yes, Director?”

  “Depressurize oxygen storage bay one.”

  “Sir? To what level?”

  Simon swallowed down what felt like ten shards of glass lodged in his throat.

  “Zero.”

  When Carter next spoke, his voice was unsteady. “Seventy-nine detects life in the vicinity. I need your override.”

  Simon closed his eyes. A planetary director. There would be no coming back from this. Simon lifted his watch to his mouth.

  “Seventy-nine, grant Engineer Carter director override.”

  Security code?

  “Three six four–six three three–seven zero six.”

  Authorization granted.

  The ground vibrated. Simon clenched his fists and waited, not daring to look through the window. He knew what would happen within the depressurized bay. The effects were burned into every station director’s brain in the earliest days of training: Water in the body would turn to vapor. The person’s body would rapidly expand, crushing internal organs, squeezing the heart, and applying crippling pressure to the lungs, which would likely rupture and bleed. Brutal depressurization sickness would follow as nitrogen bubbled inside bones and muscle. Lemley had prepared an oxygen mask and tank, but that would mean nothing when his internal organs smothered his lungs and filled them with blood.

  Simon stared at his watch, counting the time. At twelve seconds, he heard the muffled sound of a gunshot.

  He braced himself, waiting for disaster. It did not come.

  After one minute, he reopened his connection to Carter.

  “Resume pressurization.”

  “Will do,” Carter replied.

  Simon then addressed the station AI. “Seventy-nine, unlock oxygen bay one.”

  Oxygen bay one is locked down due to Planetary Director Lemley’s orders.

  “Override the director’s orders. Reason: deceased.”

  Simon gave the AI a moment to confirm. He suspected the cameras in the bay would suffice.

  Override confirmed. Oxygen bay one unlocked.

  When the pressurization was complete, Simon stepped inside. Saw the body. Saw the director’s wide-eyed, vacant stare, and the blood pooled around his mouth and underneath his head. Saw the brain matter from where he’d inserted his handgun into his mouth and pulled the trigger.

  And then immediately fled the room to vomit.

  *

  An hour later, a bandaged and grumpy-looking Daksh greeted Simon on his way to the control room.

  “Surprised Haley is letting you wander about,” Daksh said, attempting and failing to smile.

  “I’ve a cane, a cast, and a job to do,” Simon said as he hobbled along. Daksh offered an arm, and Simon graciously accepted it as they walked.

  “I’m so sorry,” Daksh said, side-eyeing the cast on Simon’s leg. “I failed in my duties, and it nearly killed us all.”

  “We both made plenty of mistakes, all of which involved trusting a planetary director to not be a homicidal lunatic.” Simon grinned sideways despite the pain. Haley had injected his knee with a localized pain killer, but fiery spikes managed to escape from higher up near the thigh. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. That massive bruise on your head is punishment enough.”

  “But still…” Daksh reached into his pocket. “It may be too late, but I searched Director Lemley’s room and personal belongings. No note or explanation, but I did find this in one of his pockets.”

  He pulled out and offered Simon a thumb drive. Simon accepted the thin little bit of plastic in his free hand.

  “Did you check its contents?” he asked.

  “I thought that was best left for you,” Daksh said. “Besides, it belonged to a planetary director. I can’t imagine the security on that thing.”

  Simon could. He pocketed the thumb drive, reminding himself to give it to his tech specialist later. She might be able to crack the thing open and give a hint as to what would push Lemley to such extremes.

  “Thank you,” he told Daksh, and then gestured ahead. They’d reached the doors of the control room. “Please, come with me. This is something everyone needs to hear.”

  Simon stepped into the control room using his cane alone, determined to walk on his own power. Familiar faces peered back at him, each awash in the glow of their monitor. Shan saw him enter and immediately hurried over.

  “We need a proper sitrep,” his second-in-command said. “Everyone’s running on theories, and it’s getting out of hand.”

  Simon nodded as he approached the middle of the control room. All the various stations were curved and oriented toward that center point so he might address them simultaneously. His stomach spun loops, and it had nothing to do with the previous inconsistency of gravity. Public speaking was one of his strong points, and a large reason why he’d managed to nab his role so early. This news, though…he couldn’t even guess how his crew would take it.

  “Earlier tonight,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Through undetermined means, Planetary Director Jakob Lemley triggered an explosion within his shuttle, damaging our station.”

  He paused to let that sink in. Worry, confusion, and anger spread across the tired faces of his subordinates, even though most had guessed that something extreme had happened, given how the shuttle bay was the only portion of the station currently blocked off with security walls.

  A tall man with a receding hairline stood. Carter, his head of engineering. Simon nodded to acknowledge him.

  “Can you tell us why?” Carter asked.

  “Fear,” Simon said, “of the Artifact, and what it means to humanity as a whole. I cannot answer more than that. I’m sorry.”

  More soft muttering. For a planetary director to attempt such a horrible crime, and take their own life doing so, was beyond the pale. None of it made sense, not unless the Artifact was a tremendously dangerous object. And if it was…

  Simon crossed his arms, falling into thought. There was too much going on that he did not understand. They were operating in the dark. How would OPC brass react to news of Lemley’s death? Would they prosecute him? Send a replacement director? Or finally follow through with their implied threats to take the Artifact out of his possession and bring it somewhere planet-side to be “properly” studied?

  He had to stop this. He had to buy himself some time.

  Simon looked up, and he slowly exhaled. There was one way, and he hoped the rest of his crew would understand.

  “As of right now, I am initiating a dark quarantine protocol.”

  Gasps followed. Normal quarantine protocol meant a station or planet had encountered, or at least suspected, a threat considered dangerous to humanity at large. Initiating quarantine protocol meant no travel was allowed through the world gate, and all necessary supplies would be delivered via automated shuttles.

  A dark quarantine, though, went much further. All outgoing communication would be severed, and incoming information heavily filtered. No messages. No letters. No calls. They would go dark to the rest of the universe. Simon alone would be in charge of information sent to OPC, and that which reached his crew. Such rare measures were used when the very knowledge of what was transpiring on the far edges of space could be considered traumatic to society at large.

  “Is such a drastic step required?” Shan asked.

  Simon spun in place, meeting the eyes of all those subordinate to him.

  “Our lives were threatened by one of the highest-ranking members of OPC,” he said. “Until I know for certain that all danger has passed, this must be done.”

  That wasn’t going to be enough; Simon could read that on their faces. They were frightened, but they were also professionals. They could reach their own conclusions as to why he was taking such a course. He had to win them over. He hardened his voice and crossed his arms behind his back.

  “It’s been a month since we discovered the Artifact,” he said. “What it is, we still don’t know. We don’t know who made it. We don’t know its purpose. But what I do know is that its discovery is about to change humanity’s entire understanding of the stars, of civilizations, and of our history. This is our work. This is our discovery. We are at the bleeding edge, and I will let no one, no director, not even the OPC itself, steal it from us. Our blood and sweat shall not be spent in vain. The Artifact has awakened. We know that. It has made contact with my brother. Something is coming. Something amazing, transformative. And we shall shepherd that coming change.”

  He did not wait for their reaction before limping away from the center. He didn’t want to seem like he could be swayed. The course was set. Time to hold faith.

  Before Simon exited the control room, he went to his tech specialist’s console. Her name was Essa, a brilliant mind hidden behind a quiet, solemn personality.

  “This belonged to the former planetary director,” he said, handing over the thumb drive. “I want to know what’s on it.”

  Essa took the drive and pushed it into a slot built into her monitor. Immediately, a warning flashed on her screen, and she frowned.

  “Encrypted,” she said, clicked a few buttons, and then grimaced. “Very encrypted. This will take time.”

  Simon lowered his voice so only she would hear.

  “Find a way to crack it, and do it fast,” he said. “Lemley tried to kill us all, and I need to know why.”