Dead Space Kali Wallace (best non fiction books to read txt) 📖

leaned over the table while he spoke, mostly ignoring me to address his words toward Adisa. “We should have that, at least, but thanks to your fucking people, we’re stuck out here with our thumbs up our asses every time some psycho decides to fuck things up.”

Adisa didn’t bother pointing out that it had been the overwhelmingly powerful UEN, not the starving and desperate Martian rebels, whose use of weaponry had led to the postwar disarmament treaties. His only reaction was to tilt his head slightly and say, without trying to soften his accent in the slightest, “You think Prussenko should have been able to defend himself, aye?”

“I think a lot of things would be different if we weren’t expecting the likes of you and your little security shits to keep us safe.”

“So who do you think is responsible? Given the nature of the murder, aye?”

Delicata didn’t hesitate. “It was the Hunter brat. Lovers’ quarrel. You know how rich kids get when they don’t get what they want.”

“Yeah? What did she want?”

With a look of confusion, Delicata said, “Why don’t you ask her?”

Adisa thanked him for his help and asked him to send the next crew member in. Delicata, still red in the face, stormed away. I nudged Ned Delicata upward on my list of crew members to look into more closely.

Katee King, the electrical engineer, confirmed that David had told her not to bother repairing the offline transmitters until they figured out the cause of the power surges, but she swore once again she’d had no idea he was hiding something. Bitsy Dietrich-Yun, the facilities engineer, disagreed with Vera about David’s taste in music but confirmed what the others had said about David looking for off-assignment work; he had helped her reprogram some of the cargo loaders a month or so ago, and they were supposed to meet up in a day or two to fix some more. Ivan Dolin, the mining engineer, confirmed what Balthazar had said about David sometimes wandering about the station where he wasn’t supposed to be, but like everybody else, he didn’t think there was much to it and didn’t mind. He welcomed the company whenever David ended up out in the mine during long, dull shifts of fixing this machine or that. Sometimes they played cards on their breaks.

They were all edgy and anxious, every person we talked to, if not outright scared. A few had theories, a few had suspicions, but not one of them admitted to knowing anything that might have gotten David killed.

After the last crew member was gone, Adisa rolled his shoulders tiredly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Either this is the cleanest crew in the whole fucking system or they’re all so scared of being implicated they can’t see what’s in front of them. And that includes Sigrah.”

“Whatever David was doing, it will be in the data somewhere. I just need time to look. And access.” I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt. I had been expecting some guidance from the interviews—stories about crew conflict, hints of black market trades, suspicions of shady contacts—but all we’d learned was that whatever David was doing, he had kept it to himself.

Adisa tapped his fingers on the table. “Maybe Hugo has learned something from HQ.”

There was a shout from the common room. We both jumped to our feet and moved toward the door. Neeta Hunter’s voice rang out, high-pitched and furious. “What did you do to him? What did you do to him?”

Adisa and I emerged from the galley just in time to see Hunter launch herself at Mary Ping, who was walking through the main room. Hunter grabbed the front of her jumpsuit and shoved her against the wall; Ping’s head struck with an audible thump.

“What the fuck did he ever do to you?”

Ivan Dolin, who was closest, grabbed Hunter’s shoulder to try to pull her back. “What the fuck, girl? Stop.”

Hunter ignored him. She was fixated on Ping. She had one hand fisted in the front of Ping’s shirt; with the other she struck Ping hard across the face.

“Why? Just tell me why! Why would you hurt him?”

“All right.” Adisa darted forward to catch Hunter’s wrist before she could hit Ping again. He pried her fingers from Ping’s shirt and tugged her away, with Dolin’s help. “Back off, yeah? Don’t do this.”

“I know it was you.” Hunter’s voice was wet with tears. “Everybody knows it was you.”

“I’ll take her to her room,” Dolin said, putting his arm around Hunter’s shoulders.

The other miners stared as they left, half-risen from their chairs, mouths open. Their expressions were caught between abashed amusement and genuine fear.

I didn’t notice Sigrah in the doorway until she spoke.

“We’re not doing this,” Sigrah said. Her voice was strident and loud enough to carry. “Do you hear me? We are not fucking doing this. We are not that kind of crew. We are not going to make accusations. We are not going to treat each other with suspicion. We are going to let the security team do their jobs, and we are going to get back to work. Is that clear?”

A ringing silence filled the room. None of the miners reacted.

“Is that fucking clear?”

Mumbles of assent. Narrowed eyes. One or two obedient nods.

Through all of this, Mary Ping said nothing. She sat at the end of a mess table. She smoothed down the front of her shirt and touched her cheek gingerly. The blow had left a red mark on her pale skin. She looked over to see me standing just outside the galley. She smiled, whisper-soft and quick as a flash, and turned away.

ELEVEN

By the time we finished interviewing the crew, it was technically the end of the day, and we all sat down to a demoralizing meal of rehydrated noodles and indistinguishable plant protein smothered in a sticky, too-sweet sauce. I finished my own food quickly and slipped away