11
Starla
Despite her map, the station is like a maze, and more than once Starla leads Calanthe and Absolon into a dead end before figuring out the right turn and finally arriving at the room Mona had led her to last night. The forklift suit is still leaning in the hallway, slumped in on itself in an eerie mimicry of the cartel solder Absolon zapped.
Starla tries the handle. Locked. She knocks, the same tat-a-tat, tat-a-tat she used to use to get Mona’s attention when she was supposed to be studying in her room, but nothing happens. She frowns at Absolon, jerking her chin at the door.
“I don’t hear anyone inside,” he says.
Starla tries the handle again, then Calanthe Yang taps her on the shoulder and produces a tab the size of her thumbnail, which she affixes to the lock. It begins to
