Curfew was lifted the next day. Aquila announced it over the gel wall speakers. I was curled up on the floor, a few feet away from a dead end in the tunnel. The tube around us still glowed a soft green.

Ratbag was snoring, while I stared at my datapad and wondered if switching it on was the best decision I’d ever make or the last. I chose to leave it for now. My stomach was growling again. The cheese and bread rolls were all gone. I nibbled on one of the last grapes and took a sip of the water.

And stared at the dead end of the tunnel.

Why had the green glow led us here?

“What deck do you think we’re on?” I said softly. Ratbag’s ear twitched, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Must have climbed up about three or four,” I murmured. “So, that would mean Deck D or C.”

I had no idea what was on Deck D, but I knew what was on Deck C. Was it a trap?

Aquila was still not talking to me. But it had to be him who was opening all the hatches. Who’d used green to lure us up four freaking decks. It had to be.

I sighed. Then stared at the screwdriver lying on the gel floor beside me. There were no screws in this one. No hatch. Just a blank gel wall. I left the screwdriver where it was and started crawling toward the wall with the filleting knife instead.

I’d stab anything that moved including the damn wall.

The moment I was within a foot of the dead end, the gel wall retracted. I lunged forward with the knife and rolled out of the end of the tunnel, landing hard on a gel floor.

“Oomph,” I managed, quickly looking around my new location to get my bearings.

No armoured guard stepped out, and my father or the mayor weren’t waiting. I slowly got to my feet, noting Ratbag had hopped out of the gel wall before it had shut again. I walked back up to it and watched it open.

It wasn’t the screwdriver that did it. I looked around the room for cameras. I couldn’t see any, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Reaching in, I grabbed all of our pitiful gear and then stepped away from the wall. The gel wall resealed, and the tunnel disappeared behind it.

I huffed out a breath in confusion and frustration. That was one puzzle I couldn’t seem to solve.

But, as I turned around to look at the enormous room I’d ended up in, I realised one other question was at least answered now. We were in the computer core. This was Aquila’s home.

I tapped the knife against my thigh as Ratbag wandered off to sniff at tall banks of electronic equipment, which, I guessed, had to be hard drives or something. Aquila had told me I could hide here. That my biosignature had been keyed for entry. But that Aquila was not the Aquila I heard every now and then over the ship comms.

But somehow I was here, led here by green walls, Old Aquila’s form of greeting. And no alarms had gone off unless they were silent.

I gathered up the apron and container that had housed the bread rolls and attached them to my belt, and then I headed out to see what was here that I could use.

I walked the circumference, but I still couldn’t see into the centre of the room. It was hotter in here too than in the tunnels. I stripped off my shirt, leaving me in a camisole, and kept searching for clues.

I finally made it to the centre of the room, checking every nook and cranny on the way to get there. I stared down at the small depression in the gel floor. At the food synthesiser at one end and the cushions at the other.

I stared for a very long time.

Ratbag had no such qualms as me; he jumped down into the hollow and turned around a few times on what had to be the bed. Then sank to his belly, head on front paws, and yawned wide.

I nibbled on what was left of my nail and then finally stepped down into the depression.

Nothing happened. No containment field flashed up all around me. No voice telling me to freeze. Not even Aquila welcoming me to my new home. Because that’s what this had to be. Aquila had made me a home away from home, somewhere to hide in.

He knew I’d come here eventually. He’d left the glowing green walls in the tunnels to help me find my way. I wouldn’t have looked at that dead end if it hadn’t have been for the glow leading me there. I wouldn’t have even found it, I thought.

But here I was. In the middle of Aquila’s…brain.

And there was the little nest waiting for me.

“What are you playing at, Aquila?” I asked. “And why won’t you talk to me?”

I let out a sigh and crossed to the food synthesiser. A few pushes of buttons and I had Ratbag’s favourite meal in a recyclable dish. I placed it on the floor to one side. Then after a couple more commands to the synthesiser, I had a cup of coffee and a croissant coated in jam in my hands.

I sat down and tasted nothing. Just fuel into my mouth.

My hands were sticky afterwards. But the synthesiser provided wet-wipes and then took the discards and wicked them all away.

For a long time, I just sat there, feeling disconnected from reality.

And then I thought of Mandy and what could be happening back in the habitats.

I didn’t know what my father was up to, but obviously, it was not good nor was it legal. I hadn’t spotted an AU crew member since before yesterday. The civilians had been released from confinement in quarters, but I had no illusions that the crewmen would have been. I needed to know if the passengers had seen anything and the best way to do that was by going to a hub.

I reached up and touched my hair. The sloppy bun was lopsided, and it felt a little greasy. I would have given over half my savings to have a three-minute shower right then. Instead, I synthesised wet-wipes by the dozen and proceeded to wash up as best as I could.

And then I pulled my filleting knife out of the belt at my hip and stared at it.

For a moment, I tried to reason everything that was happening through. To give it some meaning. To justify what I’d heard and seen and knew.

Bottom line. My father was evil. I’d kept my distance, as much as I could, and ignored the signs over the years. He’d changed, though, when my mother had died. It wasn’t mourning he’d been going through, I was sure of it. It was darker than that. Destructive. Although, I was pretty sure, mourning someone could be destructive in its own way. I know mourning my mother had thrown me into a pit of depression.

But my father had become more and more of a stranger to me since then.

Had I been scared of him? Not at first. The fear had simply increased over time until it was just there and I couldn’t remember when exactly it had started.

And now it was almost an immobilising thing.

There was no reasoning it out; no justifying what had happened here. If I didn’t understand my father back on Earth, then his actions now were a mystery to me.

But this was happening. The ship had been taken over by my father. The leaseholder. And his armoured goons.

I couldn’t risk being recognised. So, I reached up to grab a hunk of my long, blonde hair and then sliced it off with the filleting knife. I tried to attack it in some measured way, but in the end, I was simply hacking at it. Taking my frustrations and fears out on the only thing my father had ever liked about me.

Hair just like my mother’s.

I hacked it all off. I didn’t have a mirror, but maybe that was for the best. I reached up and ran my fingers through strands so unfamiliar I thought briefly that it wasn’t my head at all. But someone else’s.

Ratbag sat up and cocked his head at me, ears perked.

“It’s just me, baby,” I said, letting him lick my hand.

He seemed satisfied as he headed over to his bowl of snacks and started eating.

I stood up. Looked down at my civilian clothing. There was nothing top tier about them. And now they were crinkled and dirty, my father’s men would have no hope of recognising me.

I smiled. Scratched Ratbag under the chin and then headed back to the tunnel.

It was faster going down with the artificial gravity on the ship than it had been climbing up the ladder. And without Ratbag and the apron sling, I made quick work of the tunnels. Crawling toward the hatch that led to the Habitat Two central hub.

I could see the place was subdued, but people were still there. Grabbing what they needed and hurrying off to their quarters for safety and comfort. The familiar was all we really ever had.

Mandy’s stall didn’t have any customers. I thought perhaps digital flowers would be the last thing on anyone’s mind. But when I saw the armoured guard appear from behind the stall, I knew the real reason why.

“Where is she?” he demanded. “Your cooperation will be rewarded.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Adriana Price,” the guard snapped. “She’s visited your stall previously. Don’t lie.”

“Oh, Adi,” Mandy said, quickly backtracking. “Haven’t seen her since yesterday. And if she’s got any sense, she’ll keep out of sight.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because she stole something from me and I’m likely to hit her as soon as I see her.” Mandy shrugged.

It was all a lie. My friend was trying to throw the guards off my scent. Send them away, so it would be safe if I ever did come by.

My chest hurt. It was difficult to swallow.

And then the guard lifted his plasma gun and aimed it at her head.

“Where is she?” he said in a cold mechanical voice.

Mandy slowly rose her shaking hands and whispered, “I don’t know.”

“The woman is telling the truth,” Aquila suddenly announced.

I pulled back from the hatch, for fear it would open, and tried not to make a sound.

Mandy looked all around her with wild eyes.

“She shows none of the chemical markers,” Aquila added, “that would indicate she is lying.”

The guard kept his plasma gun levelled at her head.

“I’m telling the truth!” Mandy cried.

“I believe you,” the guard said and then shifted his plasma rifle and fired at the stall instead.

My friend's shop went up in a blaze of plasma and melted plastics, sending hot sparks and licking flames into the crowd. Mandy dropped to the floor, covering her head and screaming obscenities. People scattered and then turned back to watch, as if unable to look away from such an injustice.

The macabre was always so hypnotising.

It was over in minutes.

The guard, satisfied that the message had been received, turned on his heel and marched toward the lifts without another word. No one moved. No one said a thing. Until the lift doors closed behind him.

And then they stepped forward as one and picked my friend up off the ground, closing in around her. I lost sight of her, but the flames and sparks of the burning stall were still front and centre in my mind.

I couldn’t go to Mandy now. I couldn’t go to anyone, really.

Not if knowing me caused this type of destruction.

I moved back from the hatch and leaned against the wall, and let the tears fall silently.

I had to do something. I had to fight back. This was wrong. So wrong.

I had to stop my father.