JAS OPENED HER EYES. She was lying naked in her bunk, a hypodermic needle hanging painfully from her upper thigh. She sat up and carefully pulled out the needle. The syringe was empty. As she remembered what she’d done and why, the weight of her entire existence settled heavily over her.
So it had all come to this? All her years of fighting. Everything she’d endured. All the friends that she’d dragged into the fight, only to have them die. And she’d ended up like the man she’d despised—Loba, a myth addict, living only for the next run.
The hypodermic syringe in her hand fell from her fingers to the floor. Let it lie there. Let them see it. What did she care? Her mind returned to the airlock and its alluring escape.
Jas rose out of her bunk and went into the shower. Maybe she could wash
