Niamh's face fell, an expression of sadness similar to one she'd seen on her best friend Carole's little boy, Bemo, right before he began to cry.
"Niamh, don't cry-"
But as Lyse reached out to try to comfort her, Niamh shook her head.
"I keep losing the people I care about," Niamh said. "I don't want to lose you, too."
"We have to accept our fate," Lyse said. "Whatever it is. We like to think we're in control, but we're not and we never will be."
Niamh swiped at her wet face with the sleeve of her shirt.
"Are you sure about that?" Niamh said, as she drew in a shaky breath. "Isn't that what you're doing now? Changing all of our fates?"
She was right, of course. That was exactly what she was doing. What they were all doing.
"Thomas told me that I should come with you," Niamh continued, "because he said you might not want to do what needs doing. When the time came."
"What does that mean?" Lyse asked.
"I don't know," Niamh said. "I wish I did."
Lyse felt like she'd just stepped onto shaky ground. She didn't like that Thomas knew things that she didn't.
"Okay, we're going back. You'll be safer there . . . and then I can ask Thomas what the hell he meant by sending you with me. Fair?"
Lyse took Niamh's hands. They were thin and clammy.
"Fair," Niamh said, a little defeated.
"Think of Devandra. Think of the real world. Think about the girls. They're who we're doing all this for," Lyse whispered as her eyes unfocused and a pale blue orb grew around them.
• • •
Lyse opened her eyes just as the orb's neon-blue sheen died away. They had come back to the ship . . . but not the same one they'd left behind. What they found, instead, was the scene of a massacre. One with no survivors.
The Flood had been thorough.
The mess hall where they'd left Daniela and Dev and the girls . . . had been the scene of a bloodbath. Innocent women mowed down like animals. It was a party for the dead, decorated in spilled blood and viscera that blanketed the walls and tables and floor.
Lyse felt like she was being watched by a thousand dead glass eyeballs, all blank and unfocused, yet somehow still staring. Still calculating what was happening around them. Tracking every tiny movement, every flutter of eyelash, every tic of a cheek. The dead were fascinated by Lyse and Niamh. Curious about what the women were doing there, what they were thinking and feeling.
Niamh dropped Lyse's hands and took a step back, face white with dismay. She took another step, unconscious of where she was going, and the heel of her shoe slipped in a puddle of congealing red. Lyse caught her arm before she went down, but not before a terrified whimper escaped Niamh's lips.
"Oh God," Niamh cried.
"There is no God," Lyse said, her throat tight with anger.
It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The only sound-and it was a faint, repetitive one-was the steady drip of a water tap somewhere in the galley. Someone had probably been washing up back there when the attack started. Caught off guard, they hadn't managed to get the water turned off before they'd joined the fray . . . or maybe they'd just been shot right where they were standing.
Lyse covered her mouth with her hand, bile threatening to come up into her mouth. She was having trouble believing this was possible. How had it happened so quickly? They'd just left. Why hadn't someone realized The Flood was about to attack? Why hadn't they stopped it?
"It can't be," Niamh said, her lips trembling. "How?"
Lyse didn't have an answer for her. Whatever had gone down, it had occurred in a matter of moments . . . and none of the unarmed women had been ready for it.
"It looks like it was a blitz attack."
Niamh nodded, but she was already scanning the dead . . . looking for their friends.
"Why would someone do this?" Niamh asked, still trying to make sense of the carnage. "I don't see them. Do you?"
Lyse didn't want to look at the blank faces. Didn't want to see Dev or Marji or Ginny lying there in the blood-splattered mess hall, their bodies limp as marionettes . . . couldn't bear the thought of Daniela being among the victims. Her mouth grew taut with anger as she remembered how excited Daniela had been to meet Jessika. She wanted Daniela to fall in love and have a normal life. She wanted bright, happy futures for all the people she loved-not this. Not this death and suffering and fear.
". . . should check and make sure . . ." Niamh was saying, but Lyse had totally blanked.