Zero-G Read Free Page B

of my feet, and Carver slips out of the grate behind me. He gets to his feet, hugging the wall as he moves into the shadows.
    I rest a hand on the cold surface of the vat. I can feel it humming and vibrating as it churns the wastewater, separating out the good and the bad. They mix the water with bacteria to eat the waste, sending the oxygen produced back into the system. When the water’s clean, it recirculates, flowing to water points across the lower sectors.
    I sneak a peek around the side of the vat. I don’t see the hostages. What I do see is a man with a stinger coming right towards our hiding place.

6
Prakesh
    For a terrifying second, Prakesh doesn’t know what to say. If he startles Benson, the man could slip right off the ledge.
    Benson saves him the trouble. The eyes in that grey face slide open, and he looks over.
    “What do you want?” he says. His voice is calm, as if he’s asking Prakesh to deal with a routine lab matter. But Prakesh can’t stop looking at Benson’s feet, the toes already out over the edge.
    “Hey, James,” he says, going for nonchalance and failing. “I was, um … I was hoping I could talk to you.”
    “Oh yeah? About what?”
    About what? Prakesh almost laughs. He can feel his palm sweating against the metal aircon unit. There’s no manual for these kinds of situations, no step-by-step procedure you can rely on.
    “Let’s talk about why you’re up here,” Prakesh says. “How about it, huh?”
    “Do you know how long I’ve been at the Air Lab?” Benson says, looking out at the vast hangar.
    Prakesh’s mind whirs away, trying to remember. “I don’t—”
    “Twenty years. I was here when old Xi Peng was running the place, long before you came along.” He says it without malice, as if it’s just a fact he’s learned to live with. Prakesh supposes he has.
    “Twenty years,” Benson says again. “And I’ve hated it for nineteen and a half of them.”
    “We can change that,” Prakesh says. He can hear noise on the ground below. He has to keep Benson’s attention. If he jumps before the Mark Six is ready …
    “Really?” Benson actually laughs. “How? You think changing my role or putting me at a better time on the shift roster is gonna make me happier ?”
    Prakesh starts to speak, but Benson talks over him. “I got nobody. Never had nobody. Didn’t think I needed them, neither. But it wears you down, you know?”
    He jabs a finger outwards, pointing at the hangar wall.
    “They,” he says. “Them. They take us for granted. We give them food, all of them, and they treat us like dirt.”
    “James,” says Prakesh. “You have to listen to me. We need you. I need you.”
    Benson ignores him. “Even you. Especially you. With that genetic breakthrough of yours, they should have put you in charge of the whole damn station. How do you stand it?”
    “They made me head of the Air Lab,” Prakesh says. “That’s enough for me.” He’s feeling embarrassed somehow, like he shouldn’t be talking about his success. He desperately wants to look back over his shoulder, hoping against hope that a stomper or a councillor or someone will appear on the rooftop, ready to step in.
    “I always respected you,” Benson says. “You seem like a decent guy. But I don’t want to do this any more. You can’t make me.”
    And before Prakesh can do anything, Benson closes his eyes and steps forward off the roof.

7
Riley
    The man is my age, his face pockmarked with acne scars, wearing an old flannel shirt under a khaki jacket. When he comes round the side of the vat, Carver and I are pressed up against it, deep in the shadows.
    The man stops, looking back over his shoulder. The stinger in his hands is homemade, cobbled together from spare parts, but perfectly capable of ruining your day.
    I feel Carver tense beside me. I’m already working out the angles, the fastest and quietest way to take him down. If he gets even a single word off—
    “We don’t need any heroes