When Aster mentioned food, I expected him to pull out a pot like the ones in the canteen. But instead, he took two sealed packets from a box in a cabinet.

"These are just rations, like we had on Five," he explained, tearing one open and handing me a bar. "I've tried the slop they serve here, but I just can’t seem to keep it down.”

I nibbled at the edge of the dense dark-grey material. It tasted earthy and slightly sweet, nothing like the strange pale mixture I had sampled in the canteen. It was far more like the nutrition that Redd prepared for Rashala, and the flavour was comforting. The strangest part was eating without being constrained by a veil, and my nibbles soon became bites. Within moments, I had gobbled the whole bar.

“Wow,” Aster exclaimed. He had not yet touched his food and was staring at me, wide-eyed. “Um, you are supposed to stretch one of those out over an entire day…wait, you’re going to need some water with that.” He pointed over his shoulder to a row of flasks on the shelf. “Get yourself one of those.”

Feeling a little queasy, I took slow swallows of water, watching as Aster ate his bar with far more care. Behind him, the complex machinery of the integration cradle slowly wove connections around Cedar's module. The misshapen functionary stood motionless nearby, its presence both familiar and unsettling.

"So,” Aster said after a while. “Tell me, what's it really like on Zero? I was always rather intrigued by the idea of brains in vats, but you are turning out to be far more interesting.”

"It's...quiet. We are just four humans and lots of functionaries."

"Only four?" He leaned forward, fascinated.

“Yes. Mother, Father, my sister Rashala and me.”

I wondered what they were doing at that moment, whether they were thinking of me. Then I thought they were probably glad to be rid of me.

"That’s astonishing." Aster shook his head. "How does that work? How do the four of you maintain the voidhold?"

"I…I don't know. I mean, the functionaries do all the work, I just go along and give them permission."

"Huh." His scepticism was clear. "It seems like an odd setup. Although I do suppose it gives you plenty of time to spend with your family.”

“Yes.” I hesitated, unsure of how much I should share. “It's very different from here. A lot less happens.” I wanted to add that Larkin’s arrival had changed all that, but Aster seemed to be struggling with a particularly violent spasm on his left side. “Are you okay?”

"I’m fine." He offered a weak smile. “Don't worry about me. It sounds as if coming to Two was an eye-opening experience for you.”

“Yes, I suppose it was.”

He leaned forward. “Do you know what I grew up in on Voidhold Five? A box.”

"A box?

“Yes. Well, a storage container for spare parts, shared with four other kids, stuck under a ventilation shaft that never stopped humming." His face twisted. "No day or night, just that endless light and noise and the taste of metal in the air."

“Why?”

His eyes were intense. “Most of our voidhold was uninhabitable. Just a few sections above the collectors and the power core, linked with tunnels.”

I struggled to imagine that. “What happened?”

"We hit a voidmaw. A massive convergence of void streams tore through our outer hull like it was paper. Our navigator tried to compensate, but the forces were too strong." He made a twisting motion with his hand. "The upper half of our voidhold literally folded. Whole sections sheared off, taking their atmosphere with them. The rest twisted and buckled. We lost gravity, and disintegrating components became clouds of particles."

I stared at him, aghast.

"After that, we all had to squeeze into what was left. We learned to sleep in any position, to be motionless for days on end." His shoulders twitched violently. "The functionaries were able to keep basic systems running, but they couldn't enter some of the damaged sections as their joints would seize up from the particles. So humans had to do it, crawling through tight spaces, breathing through makeshift filters. And the tighter the spaces, the smaller the humans.” A cold smile formed on his lips. "I became a great parts scavenger."

“But…” I didn't know what to say. "They made children do that work?"

“I was glad to be moving, to be doing something.” He looked at his trembling hands. "But the dust was everywhere. In the air, in the food, in our bodies. By the time they realised what it was doing to our nervous systems, it was too late."

He was silent for a long moment, then shook his head. "Do you know what the worst part was? Not the cramped spaces or the constant noise or the dangerous work. It was how the adults talked about it all. Like we deserved it somehow. Like Five's destruction was..." He also struggled with his words. "Like it was meant to happen."

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"What do you mean?"

"They said that we should accept our lot and that it was our burden to bear.'” He clenched his fingers against each other. "That it was our punishment."

"Punishment? For what?"

"For whatever our ancestors did to deserve being sent to the voidholds." He gave a bitter laugh. "Think about it. Why build these massive structures just to house a few humans? Why keep us isolated, dependent on machines to survive?" His face twisted into a scowl. "Maybe we're meant to slowly decay, generation after generation, until there's nothing left but broken bodies and failing systems."

I thought of Cedar's far-fetched claims about the voidholds as the ultimate force of destruction. This seemed no more likely to me. "But why would anyone build such elaborate prisons?"

"To make sure we never escape. Never corrupt the rest of humanity with whatever made us so dangerous in the first place." He gestured at the node around us, at the dismembered functionaries. "If you ask me, the people of Voidhold Two are delusional. Unification? Some grand human future? Pure slag. The voidholds were built to contain us, to make us suffer for sins we’ve never even known."

He sat back heavily, slamming into the back of the chair. Then he carefully broke off a tiny piece of his ration bar and ate it. I took a few more swallows of the stale, tinny water. The silence stretched between us, filled only by the hum of machinery and occasional distant tremors.

Finally, he looked at me. His gaze was far softer. "You're exhausted, aren't you?”

I nodded. I did not have words to describe my tiredness.

“Why don’t you have a rest? Cedar is going to need some more time. You can go up there.” He pointed to a corner of the node, at a narrow platform nestled high among the pipes and conduits, barely visible in the shadows. "It's my retreat," he said, with a slight smile. "When I need to compose myself. There's a ladder." He indicated a set of rungs hanging from the wall. "You can pull it up after you. Nothing can reach you up there."

I studied the space. It looked tight but secure, offering a clear view of both Cedar's installation and the node's entrance. "Do you sleep up there?"

"When I remember that I need to sleep." He leaned forward against the workbench. "Though I usually doze off right here.”

"I shouldn't take your space," I said.

"Don’t worry about it." His dark eyes met mine. "I need to monitor Cedar's integration anyway. And you look..." he hesitated, "like someone who needs a moment of safe rest."

"Thank you."

The platform on top of the ladder was just big enough to lie down, with a thin pad that smelled of metal and oil. Once up, I pulled the ladder up after me, the action sending an unexpected surge of relief through my tired body. Below, Aster's quiet movements and occasional murmurs to himself were almost as soothing as Oren's clicks had once been. I lay down, my body finally releasing its tension, and let exhaustion pull me under.

✾

A blaring siren jolted me awake. Yellow emergency lights pulsed through the node. I sat up straight in alarm, hitting my head on the platform’s low ceiling.

"Alert. All voidhold members. Alert.” The announcement blared out across the node. “A hostile infiltrator from Voidhold Zero has breached our community. Female, early twenties, slight frame, prominent facial scar. She may be masked."

I froze in fear, pressing myself deeper into the tight space.

“This individual is extremely dangerous. She has already assaulted a senior council member. She is mentally unstable and prone to violence. Do not attempt to engage. If sighted, maintain distance and immediately notify the council.”

My heart wasn't just hammering, it was trying to escape my chest. Each beat felt loud enough to echo off the node's walls. The siren made one last blast and fell silent.

“Well,” Aster said from down below. I looked out over the edge of the platform to see him standing motionless, his face turned upward. The emergency lights painted him in flashes of sickly yellow. "That's an interesting development. Assaulted a senior council member?" His head jerked to one side. "I suppose I should report that the dangerous criminal is right here in my node."

My breath froze in my lungs. Aster's hand moved to his control panel, and I tensed, ready to... what? Stay up here on the platform until he sent the functionary to haul me down?

"Hmm," he continued, his fingers dancing across the interface, "alas, it seems my communication systems are experiencing some unfortunate interference. Must be all these tremors." He tapped another control, and the lights stopped their flashing. "There. Much better."

Oh good, he's not an idiot.

Cedar's voice emerged from the integration cradle, dry and familiar.

"I heard that," Aster said mildly. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd stop probing my neural interfaces. I have enough trouble keeping my systems aligned without your assistance."

"Can you hear Cedar?" I asked, relief making my voice unsteady.

"Yes, I hooked us up. Never thought I’d be talking to a navigator."

I’ll admit, under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t even give you a location.

Aster smiled. "Shade, you can come down if you want. Or stay up there if you prefer."

I hesitated, then moved toward the ladder. Aster stepped back, giving me space as I climbed down. "They'll be looking for me," I said quietly.

"They won't find you here." Something dark crossed Aster's face. "Only the council members know of the node's existence, and they prefer not to down here in person."

A low chime sounded from the integration cradle, drawing both our attention. Aster moved to check the readings. "The integration is done," he said, reaching into the cradle and disconnecting the last filament. "Our navigator is ready for transfer to the bridge. By the way, that earpiece of yours?" He pointed to my ear. "That needs to go. You might as well paint a target on your head."

I touched it self-consciously. "But how will I hear Cedar?"

"There are better ways." His hand reached out, then paused. "May I see it?"

I removed the ornament and handed it to him. His fingers brushed my palm with surprising gentleness.

"Still working," he said. "They knew how to make things back then.” He placed it carefully on his workbench and moved to a storage cabinet. After some rummaging, he returned with a thin metallic strip. "Here. A bio-adhesive receiver. It bonds directly to your skin. Fit it into your outer ear, behind one of the ridges."

"Thank you."

"No problem. Now, you need to go four levels up. Take maintenance shaft seven. It'll bring you straight to the bridge deck, but in the back section, directly behind the consoles. No one goes there, so it should be safe." His eyes met mine. "Cedar will tell you what to do. There will be humans on the bridge, so keep quiet." He offered a shy smile. "You can come back here when you're done, if you want."

I tried to return his smile, showing my teeth. "Yes, I think I will."