I swallowed. We climbed. Quickly and quietly. Below, the goons moved ever closer, their boots echoing on the metal floor.

We reached the gantry and I pretty much wanted to freeze right there, but Florence started to inch out along it so, not wanting to seem like a total wuss, I felt bound to follow. It was pretty scary, I thought. Looking back, I’d have to admit it was pretty solid, but then I would have sworn that the entire structure groaned under our weight. Whatever, I held my breath. The men below paused, frowning, clearly wondering where we had gone. And then, from somewhere deeper in the bay, there was a loud crash. One of the men cursed. The other demanded, “What the hell was that?”

I turned to see if I could see what had made the noise but Florence didn’t waste time. She just grabbed my arm and we bolted together, as quietly as we could, across the walkway and we arrived at a door. The two blokes below had gone off to see what the noise was so we tried the door, which, it turned out was open. It took us back into the station proper but on a level above where we’d dodged out of sight.

We ran, in that ‘we’re only walking very fast because it’s good for our health and we’re not at all suspicious or running away from two goons who want to turn us into dogfood’ sort of way. We needed a downward elevator or stair to the admin levels, which weren’t far away now. But Krenz’s men weren’t the only ones looking for us. Shasta would have got the word out by now and she had goodness knows how many people scattered about who were on her payroll. We probably couldn’t trust a living soul on the entire Station, with, I fervently hoped, the exception of Jake Firby. The real question was whether Shasta would try and grab us overtly or just keep tabs on us and make sure she got what she thought she was owed her later. She was a sly one, but we’d probably pushed a button too many with her.

As luck would have it, we found a door to a stairwell. It was locked but Florence was already gamely tapping at the control panel. “Give me a second,” she said.

“I’d like to but I don’t think we have a second.”

A very large man in coveralls had appeared from nowhere and had a grip on the collar of my jacket. I tried to turn towards him, initially to see who he was. Florence was turning, limbering up for a fight and then the guy was down, twitching violently and frothing at the mouth a bit. Florence turned back to the control panel while I wondered what had happened. And then I looked down and in my hand was Verya’s cattle prod. My best chum in all the world. Finn’s little helper. I must have just grabbed it from my pocket on a reflex and jabbed the guy. As the smell of frying bacon wafted away, Florence got the door open. She grabbed my sleeve and pulled me through, sealing it behind us.

We hammered down the metal steps in a clatter, half running, half falling and then we were in the dingy, flickering corridors of the admin levels.

I leaned against a wall, panting. “Tell me Firby’s actually here.”

Florence just pointed ‘Archives, Records, Transit Logs and Station Information.’

I sighed. “When I grow up I want the quiet life of a garden centre watering attendant .”

She rolled her eyes and pushed open the door.