I could hear things through the wall. Muffled. Indistinct. I tried to decipher the swishes and thumps, but the gel wall was too thick. I pictured plasma rifles going off and blood squirting. But my idea of that sort of fighting was based on movies, and I wasn’t sure how accurate it was.

I suddenly thought I should have come more prepared. A medkit maybe. At least some wipes from the synthesiser. I was no longer armed, but I still had my apron and four to-go meals.

I could throw potatoes at them, I thought and then laughed.

The laugh became a little hysterical, so I covered my mouth with both hands until I finally stopped.

People were probably dying in there. Dying to escape my father’s prison.

I curled up into a little ball and tried to ignore the swishes and thumps that had started to sound like failing heartbeats.

My body shook, my breaths came out shaky. I squeezed my eyes closed and prayed for it all to stop. This nightmare that never ended. This role I found myself in.

What if they all died? What if the guards who were armoured and carried freaking plasma rifles overpowered them with their steak knives. It was highly likely. I stared at the solid wall a few feet in front of me, where the invisible hatch was hiding, and waited and waited and waited for the tapping of the word ‘Fish’ in Morse code to tell me they were all right.

My body felt cold. My lips numb. I couldn’t feel the tips of my fingers. It was as if I was freezing to death in the snow. But I wasn’t. These tunnels weren’t as hot as the computer core room, but they weren’t freezing cold either.

I worked on stretching my fingers and toes, bringing them back to life.

And then someone tapped.

I was so busy counting my fingers and trying to ignore the swish and thump that I missed it.

Like a startled possum, I stared at the dead end of my tube and tried not to breathe.

The tapping came back a minute or so later. This time harder and, if I wasn’t mistaken, a little desperate.

Fish. Fish. Fish.

I shuffled forward, then hesitated, and then sucked in a breath and waved my wrist comm at the hatch.

The gel wall retracted, and there was the captain, holding a wrist comm in his own hand. It clearly did not work on the gel walls.

“You didn’t leave,” he said.

“You asked me not to,” I replied.

“But…” he shook his head. “Never mind. We have wounded. We have to get out of here.”

“OK,” I said, not sure what else to add.

I peered out of the hole and saw all of the cells were empty; most of the containment fields were down. Lying on the ground, in various stages of distress, were my father’s security detail. Mercs, Captain Tremblay had said. And lying beside them were two of his officers. Their uniforms were burned to a crisp. I looked away before I registered what was on display through the holes in their chests.

I swallowed thickly. Tremblay shifted until he completely blocked my view.

“We managed to stop them calling for help,” he said. “But someone will check on them soon. We have to go. Now, Adi.”

“OK,” I said again.

He reached out and touched my shoulder briefly. “Can you lead us somewhere safe?” he asked.

I nodded my head. He watched me closely.

OK. Somewhere safe.

“I’ll have to stay by the hatch to keep it open,” I said, holding up my wrist comm.

I could see the idea forming in his mind. I shook my head.

“It’s mine,” I said. “I didn’t steal it.”

He nodded his head.

“López,” he called out. “Zenith first. Lead the way.”

“Yes, sir,” the female officer from the cell beside his said. She climbed in and slipped past me, muttering, “Hope none of the boys are claustrophobic.”

The guy with big muscles followed next, winking at me, and then the other one in the cell next to the hatch.

“Flux, you’re up,” Tremblay said. “Careful with Wilson.”

“Aye, sir.” Two men climbed in, helping an officer who looked a little worse for wear.

They all did really, but this one’s head was covered in dried blood. He was the one that had been out cold at the far end, I realised. The three of them passed me. I watched them all shuffle down the tunnel a fair way and then stop at a junction beside the one Tremblay had called López.

I looked back at the captain.

“Come on, Munro,” he said softly. “We’ll get you sorted.”

A woman was lifted into the tube next. She looked bad. Really bad. Blood covered her uniform. She was shaking. She made a pained sound as another officer slipped around her and started dragging her toward the others. One more officer climbed in behind them and lifted her feet to ease her way.

Tremblay looked worried.

He noticed me watching him.

“Our chief engineer,” he said and shook his head. He didn’t think she’d survive.

I crouched there, not sure what I was feeling, but knowing I hated it. I hated it.

Tremblay climbed in the hatch. That was it then. The two dead officers were being left behind.

He looked at the hatch and then looked at me. It was still open. I forced myself to turn away and start toward the others. When I looked back, the hatch was closed, and Tremblay was staring at it.

“Automatically coded,” he said.

I said nothing.

I worked my way forward, past all the officers who sported scrapes and cuts and bruises, and in the chief engineer’s case, life-threatening injuries. Where I was taking them might be safe, but it didn’t have medical equipment. I considered that for a moment. But where else was there?

The medical bay was on Deck B, one up from the computer core, and three up from here. Getting to the computer core was going take enough effort. I highly doubted the engineer would make it. If she did, then we’d consider raiding the medical bay afterwards.

For now, they needed a safe harbour, and I only knew of one on this ship.

“What’s that delicious smell?” the muscly one called Johnson said as I passed.

“Cut that out, Lieutenant,” the captain snapped at my back.

I realised then that he had followed me to the front of the line of officers. I looked over my shoulder at him. He offered a reassuring nod of his head.

“Sorry, sir,” Johnson said. “But I could have sworn I smelled steak.”

“Steak?” someone said. “You’re dreaming. Haven’t we already established you’re a baker, not a chef?”

“Um,” I said, moving my apron around. “It is steak. Here.”

I handed the apron to him. He peered inside.

“You are an angel sent down from heaven,” he announced, reaching in and drawing out a takeaway box. “Spuds,” he said, dipping his hand inside.

Someone took the apron from him and handed the steak meals out.

“If you’re quite done feeding my men,” the captain said, “can we move things along?”

He glanced back at the engineer.

“Sorry,” I muttered and kept on pushing past the rest of his men.

“At least the steak knives finally make sense,” López said as I approached the front of the line. She offered me a smile and wink.

“Ah,” the captain said as if he hadn’t put it all together until then. “You had to buy the meals to get the knives.”

“Yes,” I said, finally reaching the front of the line. I started heading back to my glowing green ladder.

They all followed, the captain directly behind me.

“How much did that cost?” he asked conversationally.

I thought perhaps he was trying to make me feel more at ease with them.

“About one-eighty,” I said.

Silence for a beat and then he murmured, “That’s a lot of money.”

I realised then, the question hadn’t been for my benefit. But for his. So he could figure out who I was.

The captain didn’t trust me. I felt sad about that. But I knew things were about to get a lot worse.