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A re you asking me for a casual conversation as you climb out of a pit of death?” Rian asks.

“A little light banter couldn’t hurt the situation.” I have to scoot to reach another handhold. The security line does make me feel safer, as if I might be able to fall and not die, which is better than a hundred percent certainty the opposite direction.

“How’s the, er, weather down there?”

“Hot.” I swing out, my foot sliding until it catches the ledge I spotted. “Come on; you can do better than that.”

“Is distraction a really good idea right now, Ada?”

Okay, I’ll be honest. The warmth when he says my name? That is what’s actually distracting. Probably because he has no idea.

“Bold of you to assume you have anything witty enough to say to actually distract me,” I mumble, looking for the next handhold.

“If you’re going to insult me, I can just turn off this channel—”

“No!” I say a little too abruptly. I clear my throat. “No. Just...I don’t know. Tell me about yourself.”

“I feel like this is all a giant conspiracy to find out my darkest secrets. Did your jetpack really fail?” He’s teasing, but I don’t like the implication.

I have to push off a bit to grapple with my next step. It knocks the wind of out me when I slip, scramble, slip, grab.

“Ada?”

“Everything’s fine,” I say. “So, tell me about your childhood.”

Rian barks in laughter. “I’d rather swap places with you.”

“I can tell you about my childhood,” I offer. “But, you know, it was fairly typical. Boring.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

I pause, catching my breath. I’m feeling the weight of my jetpack and life-support unit right now. This shit’s heavy when you’re clutching toeholds on a sheer cliff face. And unlike in space, this damn planet has gravity.

At least the temperature lowers the higher I climb. It’s still too hot outside for my suit to register a number, but the warning has reduced from neon orange to neon yellow, so that’s nice.

“What are the others doing?” I ask. “Because this is kind of a shitty job, not going to lie, and it would make me feel better if you told me Magnusson was rooting through cycler worms to try to find the next item you need.”

I scan the other data I’m tracking in my visor screen. Download at thirty-two percent; jetpacks on standby. Looks like I’m going to keep doing this the hard way.

“Yadav is checking seismic activity,” Rian says. “But what makes you think Magnusson is looking for another item?” He’s teasing. He knows I know the real mission he’s on is twofold. He’s been letting things slip intentionally for a while now.

“I’m hanging off the side of a cliff with something so valuable, you crossed the galaxy at top speed to get here for it,” I say. “Don’t play coy. Plus, I opened the box, remember? I know this thing you want is a cryptex drive.”

I get up another little ridge. My shoulders are screaming. I’ve been in space too long for this shit.

“So,” I continue, panting, “you’re going to all this trouble to get a cryptex drive. But thing about those kinds of drives? They require a key. A physical key. And I’m just really hoping that you’re making Magnusson sort through the sewage pit of that ship to see if it’s there.”

I examine my choices. The higher I go, the fewer options I’m seeing to climb out. I test the safety line Rian dropped me; it’s taut, and it seems secure. At least the higher I go, the less chance I have of the external heat making this snap right when I really need it.

Rian chuckles. “What makes you think that we need a key for the cryptex drive?”

“Other than the fact that it’s a cryptex? Come on; I know my tech. That sort of drive is full of encoded data that cannot be translated without a key.” I’ve seen the sort before. They’re pricey, but if you want to secure your information, that’s the best way. A cryptex drive’s contents can still be downloaded anywhere—no data is secure these days, anyway, and if there’s a strong-enough uplink, anyone can get information. A cryptex key, though? That’s offline. Can’t be downloaded. You can only get the encryption code if you have the physical digits in your hand.

The box I’m carrying right now has the information Rian or whatever office he works for wants. But it’s useless and impossible to get any of that information if they cannot locate the key.

“No, you’re right,” Rian says, “of course I need a key for the cryptex drive. I meant, what makes you think we don’t already have it?”

I chuckle. “Because you’ve sent Magnusson searching in the trash compactor for it.”

“No, I haven’t,” Rian says. There’s a long pause, long enough for me to wrench myself up another meter or so. “But yes, he’s looking for the key.”

“You’re having him search the wrong spot,” I say.

“Because you want him to search in the hardest-to-reach areas that also are the dirtiest and most disgusting? I don’t think the crew of the Roundabout chucked the key in the trash, Ada. ”

“No, but the cryptex drive was on the bridge, in a secure location, yeah? I saw the bridge—the lockbox broke in the crash, and the fact that this drive is here makes it likely that it was ejected from there.” There’s a particularly wide outcrop of rock above me and to the left, big enough for me to take a breather. I hoist myself up, my leg slipping twice before I can make it. Once I’m on the rock, I crawl on my hands and knees until I’m at the widest area, then carefully twist around so I don’t mess up my jetpack or life-support unit. There’s just enough seat left over for me to dangle my legs over the edge, the lava river glowing beneath me.

“So, if I were the one ensuring super important data was kept safe,” I continue once I catch my breath, “I’d put the drive in one part of the ship and the key in the other.”

“Are you suggesting the key’s in the cargo hold?”

“I’m just saying that’s where I’d put it. Not that they thought their ship was going to crash and break in two. Just—if it’s top-secret information, it makes sense to put the key that can open the lock in the furthest place possible from it. And short of cramming the key up the exhaust, the cargo hold makes sense.”

I can almost hear the gears in Rian’s head churning. The cryptex drive was protected on the bridge, arguably the most secure location on the ship. Despite its size, the Roundabout could be manned by a minimal crew, maybe eight or a dozen members, tops. It wasn’t like it was a cruiser with hundreds of people on board, all of them nosy or bumbling around into areas they shouldn’t go to.

“If you want to protect something,” I say, resting my head back on the cliff face, “there are two ways to do it. First, make it obvious. Put the cryptex drive in a highly secure location and make sure everyone knows it’s off limits and guarded.”

“Second, toss the key in the cargo hold.”

“I saw the remains of that part of the ship. There were nearly a hundred transport crates. A cryptex key is no bigger than my finger, yeah? So, just pack it away in a box. Make it a needle in the haystack. And don’t even tell anyone that’s where you hid it, so they don’t even know to look there.”

I can tell Rian’s with me on this. After a while, he says, “You good, Lamarr?”

“I’ve found a nice spot to sit and contemplate all the bad life choices that brought me to a river of lava I have to climb out of. ”

“Okay. Sit tight for a bit; let me send Magnusson over to the aft part of the ship.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world.”

I swing my legs, thinking. I wonder what Magnusson is going to find in the cargo hold. I check my readouts. My suit’s finally not screaming about the external temp—the warning is now green and flashing inadvisable conditions rather than polite tech speech for certain death , so that’s good.

“Lamarr?” Rian’s voice fills my ear again.

“I wish you’d just call me Ada.”

“Ada.”

I can’t explain it, but I swear his voice grows softer when he uses my given name. It’s almost enough to make a girl swoon, if she weren’t sitting on a little ledge on the side of a cliff.

“I suppose I should start climbing again.” My voice is resigned.

“Are your jetpacks still not functioning?” Rian asks.

External download: 78%

Stabilizers: Neutral

Air gauge: 64%

Jetpack: Standby

“Nope, they’re offline,” I say. “I think when I finally get back up, you need to tell Captain Ursula that I deserve quadruple portions of the meal today.”

“You can eat everything in the supplies that you want,” Rian laughs. “Plus, there’s a special meal for tonight.”

“Special? Hell, you should have started with that. Is there going to be cheese? Because I’d scale a cliff for cheese.”

“I’m not sure, actually. I just know we have some celebratory—”

“How can you not be sure about cheese ?! ”

Rian laughs, as if this were a laughing matter. “I promise it’ll be worth the effort.”

“I’m going to need that in writing.”

“You have my word.”

I sigh. Time to get moving again. Before I can talk my jelly legs into working, I use my sight-line tracker to estimate the distance I have left until I reach the top. At the rate I’m going, another hour or two at least.

I force my body up. “Do you think First will give me a massage when I get back on the Halifax ?”

“Maybe. But there’s also a dry-heat pulser, if you want.”

I whistle. Damn, the Halifax is a nice ship. “Remind me to scavenge that when you guys crash.”

Rian laughs. “Crashing’s not in the plans.”

“Okay, but if it does, I’m calling looter’s rights now.”

“Noted.”

There’s some crackly silence as I heft up, starting the climb up the wall again. I’m slower now, the strain of the day wearing on me.

I’m so close, I think. Not much longer . . .

“Tell me about your worst job.” Rian’s voice almost comes as a surprise, and it spurs me on to find another grab, pull my body up a little more, keep going.

“Worst job?” I snort. “You mean other than this?”

“Other than this.” He pauses. “Or something. I just thought it may help take your mind off...all of this.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say. “It’s an easy question, anyway.” I don’t answer as I climb a little farther up. I miss my ledge. It wasn’t the comfiest spot I’ve ever sat on, but I liked not moving for a while. Not-moving is a pastime of mine I’m particularly fond of.

“So, this was maybe two years ago,” I say. “Got word of a ghost ship. Easy pickings, out in the middle of nowhere. I think the people on board were trying to relocate or something; I don’t know.”

I said it was an easy question, but the answer isn’t easy. Rian lets silence stretch as I focus on the climb, my mind back on the ghost ship.

I don’t want to think about this. I hate this memory. But recounting it between climbs, filling my long breaks with words...it was Rian’s idea, but it’s a good one.

A distraction is exactly what I need right now.

My eyes sting, my vision blurs. Which sucks, because it’s not like I can take my helmet off and wipe my face. I let out a deep breath. I should have lied about the whole damn thing, made up a story, not let myself remember this.

But that’s the thing about tragedy.

It’s hard to lie about.