Becca switched off the medical scanner and rubbed her breastbone as if she could physically scrub away the heaviness that had descended there like a rock. She removed the memory key out of the side of the machine and pocketed it. Whatever the hell was going on, it was vitally important she got the information back to the surface. Unless Aimee had already relayed it? She glanced at Aimee’s console at the rear of the infirmary. Given what Ethan had shared and Aimee’s behavior so far, that was a distinct possibility. She exhaled a slow breath. Aimee controlled the entire habitat. The thought that she might be running a little loco was terrifying.

Ethan caught her elbow in a gentle grasp. His voice was a deep rumble. “Come on. We need to get back to the others.”

Becca turned to follow him but halted as Aimee’s voice cut through the air. “Warning. External airlock opening imminent in docking bay. Warning.”

Becca’s stomach plummeted. “What the hell is it now?”

Ethan didn’t reply, but he bolted for the door, his lips thinned to a grim line. He hustled Becca down the corridor, his movements appearing jerky and uncoordinated under the flash of the red emergency lighting.

Her jaw clenched as the hatch for the docking bay loomed. Ahead, Cade and Em’s backs disappeared from view into the oscillating illumination of the dock. Ethan grabbed the edges of the entrance and fired himself through in rapid pursuit.

Becca followed, the freezing air catching at the back of her throat as Ethan drew his weapon. Instinctively, she hugged herself. Damn, it’s cold. How was it so cold down here?

Em and Cade were already on the far side, at the external airlock positioned between the bulk of two storage cabinets crammed with diving gear. The airlock was a remnant from when the habitat had been constructed, one of multiple points providing crews with easy access to the structure as it was built. Now, Em was battering at the metal door with closed fists, her face a blur of tears.

The crack of a weapon loading made Becca spin on her heel. Finn and Luca careened into the bay on Nik’s coattails. Nik’s expression was formidable as he took in the scene under the garish red strobes and took point alongside Ethan.

“Becca,” Em called to her from across the room, her face crumpled with distress.

Becca left Ethan and ran to comfort Em, throwing her arms around Em’s shaking shoulders. As Becca tugged her close, she caught a glimpse of the problem through the door’s glass porthole.

Preacher was inside the airlock.

Fuck.

Cade shot Becca a glance. I know, it said.

Becca looked again. Preacher was standing, his head hanging low, while one hand rested on the red purge handle. As if sensing Becca’s presence he raised his head, his gaze meeting hers. His lips were indigo with cold, his fingers blanched and white.

Becca slammed the communications panel built into the wall. “Tom, what the hell are you doing? Get out of the airlock right now. That is an order.”

Preacher shook his head, his eyes screwed tight as if trying to dislodge an insect from his ear. “No. They’re not going to let us out of here, Becca. You know that, don’t you?”

His eyes snapped open and zeroed in on her through the wavy distortion of the thick reinforced glass. Icy black ocean loomed behind him, visible through the small porthole over the top of his shoulder.

“What the holy hell is he doing?” Ethan said at Becca’s back, his breath brushing the hairs on the nape of her neck.

“I have no idea.” Becca hugged Em closer to her body, tucking the petite engineer’s head to her collarbone, ignoring the tremor in her own hands. “We both spoke to him less than an hour ago in the infirmary. What’s happened in that short time?”

Em’s hands clenched and unclenched in rhythmic fear at her side while her chest was heaving up and down in a panicked effort to draw in more oxygen. She shook her head, blinked bright tears from her eyes. “He said we’re all infected, Becca. Is that true?”

Becca started. What? “No. Of course not. If that were the case, I would enforce quarantine procedures.” She pulled Em closer and Em sagged into her, narrow shoulders trembling.

Ethan slammed the door lock, but it remained stubbornly shut. “Cade?”

“Working on it,” Cade mumbled through a mouthful of wires. He’d already removed two panels under the door lock and wiring now spewed like plastic guts. He narrowed his eyes at Ethan and lowered his voice. “Aimee’s blocking the door mechanism.”

Becca’s fingers tightened uncontrollably on Em’s shoulders. Aimee, again. She tilted her head and screamed at the ceiling. “Aimee. Open the docking bay airlock right now. That is an order. Do you hear me?”

“I am sorry, Dr. Johnson. I am unable to open the identified airlock.”

Becca stiffened. As she watched, Preacher raised his other hand, so both were resting on the purge handle.

She kept her gaze locked on him as she spoke, sure if she broke eye contact he would depress the lever. “Cade, if you’re going to get him out of there, it needs to be right now.”

Red digits scrolled faster than Becca could read across the lock and a plume of white smoke escaped from the open panels. Cade coughed. “Thirty seconds.”

Luca slid up to Becca. He raised his pulse rifle, aiming at the door lock. “Bambi’s taking too long, let’s just fry the fucking door.”

Ethan grabbed the nose of Luca’s weapon, his voice rising as he manhandled Luca and his gun away from the door. “Not now, Luca. You’ll fuse it shut.”

Becca released Em to Finn and raised her hands to the porthole so Preacher could see she wasn’t carrying a weapon. “Tom. Whatever it is, we can talk about it.”

Preacher laughed, his lips pulled back from his teeth, the sound desperate through the intercom from the bare compressed space. “I don’t think so, Johnson.” His head jerked and whipped from side to side.

“Jesus,” Ethan muttered. “Preacher, tell us what you want. We can help you. You don’t need to do this.”

Preacher ’s gaze returned to the door at Ethan’s voice. He rolled his head in a lazy circle. “It’s no use. You see that, don’t you?”

Becca rapped on the glass. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it. Get this sorted. No one needs to get hurt.”

Preacher snorted. He reached under his shirt and pulled a long kitchen knife out from his waistband. He slashed the empty air with it and glared at Becca. “It’s too late for talking, Johnson. They wanted it and didn’t care what it did to people.” He sucked in a breath. “In fact, they did care that it did something to people. That’s why they dug it out of the fucking sea, so they could hurt people. Well, not them of course.” He twitched his head upward, toward the air and light. “Just us, and anyone else they don’t like.”

“What on earth is he talking about?” Ethan asked.

Despite the chill air, Becca was too hot. “I have no idea. Tom, put down the knife and open the airlock. We can talk this out.”

“You can’t sweet-talk me.” Preacher’s shoulders slumped. “It’s too late. I can’t let any of you leave. We’re all infected.”

“Tom, no one’s infected. Put the knife down and open the door.”

“You’re wrong, Becca. You just don’t know it. We both saw what Redd found. You can’t put that back in the box. It’s too late, Becca.” He sagged. “Too late. This is the only solution.”

Ethan’s voice was clipped. “Cade. The door.”

“Few more seconds.”

“Tom, look at me.” Becca knocked the glass as his gaze lost focus. “Look at me. I’m here.”

Preacher slowly turned and for a desperate moment, it seemed he was going to release the airlock and let her in, but he kept turning and his hands found the purge lever once more. His fingers tightened on the red metal.

“Got it.” Cade sprang backward as a bang exploded from the door panel and the airlock finally slid open.

“Thank fuck.” Ethan surged ahead of Becca, lunging for the Preacher.

Preacher ducked and shoved his full weight onto the lever. The red purge bolt arced to the floor and locked with a solid clunk, the reverberation traveling through the soles of Becca’s feet.

The wailing alarm ceased, and for a second, calm stillness saturated the air before Aimee spoke. “Airlock purge engaged.”

The exterior door split and water exploded into the room in a black avalanche, smashing Preacher into the wall face-first.

“Commencing emergency lockdown of docking bay,” Aimee announced in slick monotone.

Becca focused on the door to the corridor behind her. Fuck. Suddenly the entrance to the rest of the habitat was so far away.

She pushed back from the airlock door as the surface of the moon pool ballooned, then broke free, surging upward in a deadly, unstoppable cascade where it hit the ceiling with a crash and jetted sideways in all directions.

Freezing water instantly drenched her, knocking the air from her lungs. Cade was tossed sideways, and yells from the other men ripped the air around her. Ethan was gone, a gray spate flooding the space where he’d been. Becca gasped as churning water ripped her feet from under her, and she tumbled headlong across the room, dark water closing over her head. She collided with the far side, her body pummeled by a torrent of remorseless ocean that pinned her like a bug and wedged her against a fire extinguisher.

She wrenched her head free. She was several feet from the exit where the emergency seals were rolling into position. Even through the turbulent thrum of water, the vibration of the solid steel doors grinding into place was palpable. Panic lanced through her. If she didn’t get to the other side of the door, she was going to drown in less than a minute. She screamed, “Ethan!” and ducked her head under the water, but when she opened her eyes, everything was a seething mass of gray and black. She surfaced, spluttering, frigid water leaching heat from her limbs.

Where the hell is he?

The water was already chest high, plucking at her legs, threatening to pull her under. Across the room, Cade was dragging himself toward the door, using the diving equipment secured to the wall as handholds. Becca twisted, her fingers clumsy and numb, searching for a similar grip, anything that could help her to the exit.

But there was nothing. The walls were smooth, paneled metal, the bolted edges providing no grip to her searching fingertips as the relentless current spun around her, sucking everything into a lethal whirlpool. Her only hope was to relinquish her precarious grip and let the current drag her to the door. To ride the current, and not fight it. Becca snatched a shallow breath, her clawed hands skimming the wall in frantic jitters.

Ethan surfaced coughing in the middle of the room.“Go!” he yelled as he ducked under the surface in the direction of the door.

Icy water clasped Becca’s throat. Invaded her mouth. Her head bumped the ceiling.

I have to.

She took a final breath and dived.