At the compost pit, my two workmates from yesterday shooed me away. “Jado sent the word down, someone's gonna come and cover for you. You’re needed on another project,” the bald one said as he pulled on the work coveralls.

I fought my growl of irritation down. I didn’t like not knowing what was going on, being sent from one section of the satellite to another.

But Jado had the resources that we needed right now, even if the control codes that we offered him would be more than a fair exchange.

Besides, I really hadn’t been looking forward to getting into that mess again.

By the time I followed their directions, I ended up at a door at the end of a series of store rooms, guarded by yet another of the Skulls.

He eyed me and then stepped aside. “Jado said you were big, that I’d know you on sight. He was right.”

Inside, an older man with the dark, toughened skin of someone who's spent most of his life planetside or somewhere with a high radiation count, came over and measured me.

“It's going to be a tight fit, son,” he said as he turned back to his work.

“I’ll manage. What can I do to help?”

“You know how to handle tools?” he asked, his doubt made friendlier by the slight smile on his face.

“Not at all. But if you need stuff lifted, moved, or held in place, I'm your man.”

“That’s always useful. Come on, we’ve got lots of work to do, and not much time to do it.”

The day wore on endlessly. I couldn't believe how much time and care could be spent on constructing what was basically a long, hollow box.

The craftsman, Elsu, grinned at my obvious frustration. “Gotta make sure the weight balances. We don't know how the grow racks are unloaded on the other end. They might run over a scale, double-check that we’re not shorting them. Never know, best to be sure and careful.”

“My apologies, I'm just anxious.” I hefted the next panel he pointed at and brought it over for him to shape.

“Don't blame you for getting nervy. You’re taking a helluva risk.”

“No more than the rest of you.” A twinge of conscience struck. “Jado decided to put everyone at risk, didn't he, when he agreed to help us. Do you resent him for it?”

Elsu laughed. “Jado knows damn well we'd all kill for a fighting chance to be free. Die for it, if it came down to it.” He made another cut, then carefully beveled the edge. “Rather not, of course.”

Our work was interrupted by a group of men carrying an assortment of long, thin tanks.

A pudgy, dark-haired man nodded at the pile of tanks, then looked at me. “Your old lady’s pretty smart. You keep her safe, and I’d lay money on her doing the same for you.”

“I plan to.” Thoughts of Zayda brought the memory of her skin under my hands to mind. Not the time or place, but the stray thought from last night re-crossed my mind.

“Hey, where would I find the laundry?”

Elsu looked up, bemused. “What, need an emergency load of dress uniforms pressed before you go?”

I shook out my jacket hem. “Nope, wouldn’t know how to wear them. Just need to talk to a guy.”

He stayed silent, waiting.

“Do you know Gozer?”

He whistled. “Son, he’s got more wires loose than an old jump drive. Everyone knows Gozer.”

“Maybe he’s a little jumpy,” I argued, “but he means well.”

“Never said he didn’t.” The old man went back to his work, no doubt expecting me to do the same.

Worry struck. “Anyone give Gozer a hard time in here? I can’t see him fighting back much.”

“Nah.” The welder handed me a sheet of permasteel to move to the other table. “Bad luck to mess with people like that. Need all the luck you can get up here.” He stood and stretched shoulders that must have been stiff from a day of being hunched over. “Look, we’ll get a message to him, if you think he’s going to be worried about you. But I need you here, helping. Priorities, son.”

I nodded, and got the next section of the rebuilt rack to be adjusted.

Priorities.

* * *

Elsu cut me loose shortly before the end of the day shift. “More help than I thought you’d be, to be honest.”

I’d climbed in and out of the coffin-like enclosure throughout the day, checking the hidden latches, estimating the space Zayda would need curled beside me.

He tilted his head to the door, eyes still focused on one fine piece of work. “But you’re edgy now, and it’ll throw me off. Go get her, and save us both a headache.”

“Thanks.” I stopped by the door. It seemed such a measly word to offer, but I didn’t have anything else. I went to get Zayda. Priorities.

She waited for me just inside the clinic door, obviously anxious to get out.

“I hate that place,” she muttered as we headed down the hall towards the mess. “It's like a prison inside the prison.” She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Denon's acting weird. He knows something is going on, but I can't tell if he's heard about what we’re planning, or if he's just waiting for the ghosts to come get me.”

The thought hit me in the gut and for a flash I wanted nothing more than to crush the spine of the man who would have happily handed Zayda over to those monsters.

I knew what they could do, I knew what they did do. And...

I stumbled in the hallway. No, I didn't, did I?

“You okay?” Zayda asked, her hand under my arm as if she could support me.

“A long day finding out I am not meant to be a welder, that's all,” I joked, trying to put the eerie feeling behind me.

Before we turned the corner to the mess hall, Zayda stopped me.

“Here, hold this.” She slipped me a dummy tablet like the man in the dorms had been reading. “It has all the information Jado’s genius will need to take control of the station.”

“Then why are you giving it to me?”

“Because if anybody tries to give us any trouble, they’re a hell of a lot less likely to find it on you.” She reached inside the sleeve of her jacket, pulling out a handful of small flat clips. “Turn around.”

Zayda folded up the hem of my undershirt and secured it into a pocket with the clips, pulling and tugging to test its security.

“Suture clips,” she explained. “There. With your jacket back down, I can't even see where the tablet is against your back.” She squeezed my arm. “Not so great for hiding in small spaces, but you’re handy to have around.”

“Speaking of small spaces,” I said as we entered the mess. “I'm glad to know you’re not claustrophobic.”

She raised her eyebrows but we didn't say anything else as we moved through the lines in the mess.

Word must have spread through the prison that something was going down. Several inmates went out of their way to walk by the table we occupied, pausing to glance at us, look us over, evaluate and weigh.

No one said anything, just nodded and moved on.

“Does everyone know?” Zayda whispered as she glared at the mound of greenish-gray goo on her tray.

“I suspect a lot more people than we realize are making our project possible.” I put down my spoon. If we were going to be out of here soon, I'd eat real food on Orem. If not, well, I’d resign myself to a life of this sludge when it came up.

“You're right.” Zayda pushed her tray away, obviously of the same mind. “And I suspect they're afraid of Jado enough to stay in line.”

“I'm putting my credits on Ardelle,” I answered, “I’m scared of her myself.”

Zayda's laugh echoed throughout the mess hall.

* * *

This time we didn't bother with the pretense of drinks, just went straight back to the small apartment behind the Down Low to meet with Jado and Ardelle.

A stranger sat with them, an older woman, short gray hair framing an angular face.

Zayda stopped, looked her over. “You the techie?”

“Was,” the woman's gravelly voice dragged out of her, surly, bored. “Before I got stuck up here and had all access removed.”

“Have I got a present for you.” Zayda smiled and slipped the tablet out from my shirt. She flipped to a certain page and handed it over.

The woman's eyes lit up and in moments the two of them were hunched over the tablet, flipping screens and muttering what sounded to me like babble, but obviously was a shared language between them.

“Think you can do it?” Jado asked.

The woman looked up, her eyes not entirely focused on him, still running through the codes in her head. “Yeah, this part is easy. But she got us a lot more. I need to think through some of it.”

Zayda stood up, and I noticed she braced herself. I shifted to stand closer, and wondered what was coming.

“We have a couple complications.”

Jado shook his head. “I really don't like that word.”

“This wasn't avoidable. I used the hand scanner from the clinic to generate the frequencies before. But, if I try to leave the clinic with it, it'll trigger an alarm.” Her hands clenched in frustration. “I tried to remove that section of the wiring, but even tampering with it would set it off.”

Jado scowled and started to say something, but was interrupted.

“No problem.” The gray-haired woman looked up from the tablet, eyes bright. “You just need a frequency generator?”

Zayda nodded. “Can you build it?”

“Yeah, sure, back in a few.” The woman wandered off, still muttering schematics and codes.

“And there's something else we need to talk about,” Zayda continued.

Jado started to speak again, but this time Ardelle cut him off. “And we’ll figure it out, too. What’s up?”

“Most of the cuffs are programmed to check for a pulse every ten minutes or so,” Zayda explained. “In case someone dies in their sleep, or needs medical attention. Once we get them off, if we don't put them on someone else, they'll send a signal.” She sat, and I stood behind her, hands resting on her shoulders. “I don't know how many layers of bureaucracy it would have to go through, but it wouldn't be long before it ended up in front of the governor.”

Jado rocked back in his chair, thinking. “Is it possible to disable the punishment subroutine?” he asked.

“There's an override for that in the controls,” Zayda answered.

“But if we keep ours on,” I added, “the governor and his staff would be able to track us. Even if they can't use the shock to punish us, we can't risk it.”

Zayda bit her lip, her finger tapping as she thought. “It's not ideal, but if we disabled the punishment subroutine, everyone could keep their cuffs on here until your tech is able to secure Minor from outside interference.”

Jado nodded slowly. “Everybody's used to them, I don't expect it to take her too long to get it together.”

“But what do we do about Zayda and Mack’s cuffs?” Ardelle asked.

“It just needs a heartbeat, right? Any heartbeat?” Jado asked.

Zayda nodded.

“Fine, I'll put one on, Adam can wear the other. If the subroutine for punishment is disabled, not a big deal, right? And, if it's not, we’re the best choices for being able to take a doubled dose.”

Ardelle and Zayda's eyes met, but no one said anything. It was the best choice, but no one had to like it.

Before the silence stretched on too long, the gray-haired woman was back. “Let's give this a shot.” She held up what looked like a random collection of wires wrapped around pieces of scrap circuit board.

“Never said it would be pretty, just that it would work. Gimme a wrist.”

Ardelle bounced up. “Take mine off, even if it’s just for a minute,” she held out her arm, waiting. “I’ve had an itch for a week that I can’t get at.”

“In a minute, babe.” Jado pulled her into his lap and stuck out his own arm. “On the off-chance there's an additional booby-trap stuck into these things, you're not getting hit with the shock.”

The tech ran her homemade frequency generator over the cuff. Pressure mounted in the back of my skull with every second the high pitched whine continued. I clamped my jaw, determined to ignore it. Just when I thought I was going to have to leave the room, with a ‘pop’, Jado's cuff clattered to the floor.

We all stared at it.

“It really worked,” and for once the lazy drawl was gone from his voice.

In minutes, we all had our cuffs removed, rubbing and scratching the abraded skin.

“They have to be replaced soon. I'm sorry,” Zayda said.

“You don't have to be sorry for anything ever again as far as I'm concerned,” the tech said. “Even just a minute of not being pulled sideways by that stupid thing is fantastic. I hate to put it back on, but knowing that soon it will be gone forever? We’re good.”

“What about the rest of it?” Ardelle asked “Do you think you can lock down Minor, keep the station from connecting with our system?”

“I can keep this?” the tech held the tablet up and Zayda nodded.

“Right now I'm at 86, maybe 87% certainty. I'll try to have a higher number by the morning.” She wandered out again.

“She’s never going to get to 100%,” I said. “No matter how good she it, there’s always a chance of failure.”

“Sure,” Jado’s tone regained its swagger. “But I’ve never had those good of odds for anything. Doubt anyone else has, either. We’ll take it.”

“Well,” Ardelle said, “I think we should all plan on an early start tomorrow. It’ll take a while to get you into position and test the oxygen.”

She stood up, tugged on Jado’s hand until he followed her. “Have a good night you two!” She called over her shoulder. “Don’t stay up too late!”

“That was… odd.”

Zayda reached for my hands, still at her shoulders. “I think she’s trying to give us some privacy before whatever happens tomorrow.”

“Mack?” The tentative note in her voice struck alarms. “I’m worried about tomorrow. What if the trip is longer than we figured? What if the tanks don’t last?”

She spun in the chair, her eyes wild with worry. “We don’t know how they unload on Minor, what they check for, or...”

“Hey, hey.” I reached down to stroke her hair. “We’ve done everything we can. The hidden compartment is built down to the last micron to get us through. No one is expecting a breakout. As far as anyone knows, it’s impossible.”

Zayda didn’t say a word, but I could see her lost in lists. Nothing I said reached her. “Come on,” I leaned over the back of her chair, lifted her over it. “Let’s go to bed.”

“What?” The change of topic caught her off guard. “Mack, I’m not sure if…”

I sat her on the bed and turned to the privacy booth. “Just to sleep, darlin’.” The door to the privacy booth closed behind me, and I called out over my shoulder. “Besides, who else is going to keep me safe from the nightmares?”