Chapter 1

Natasha

I lit my thirtieth cigarette of the day. It was some cheap Bulgarian import brand that Kev’s mate had bootlegged in on the ferry. Two-fifty a pack. Couldn’t even get Stirling for that price anymore. Tasted like diesel fumes, but I didn’t care. I needed my nicotine hit.

“Ready?” Kev asked. I nodded. A balaclava covered his shaved head. Mine was next to me. Didn’t fancy the chances of it being flammable.

“Aye,” I whispered back. “I’ve got the bag.” Anything to get out of this rank squat. I stood up from the soggy, ripped mattress I’d been perching on. Rusty springs surrounded by mouldy foam were sticking out of it.

“Marcus got a new chib this mornin’.” Kev sounded excited. I wasn’t.

We both knew the significance of that. Marcus wanted to find someone to stab up.

“Is he steamin’?” I asked. He’d been off his head on meth during our last job. Lashed out at all of us. My leg still had an angry red cut from where he’d caught me with his old knife.

“Nah, just had a bit o’ coke.”

I nodded. Marcus was hard work when he was out of it. When he took things together, he became unpredictable. I would never admit how much he scared me.

“’Mon, it’s time to go. Put that on.” Kev indicated my balaclava. I dropped my fag butt on the floor and ground it in with my foot. I had no way of knowing that would be the last cigarette I ever smoked in my life.

I unfurled the balaclava and pulled it over my face. With it on, I felt safe. Protected by the fabric covering my nose and mouth. Like it was stopping the bleachy do-gooders from seeping in and infecting my soul with wanting something other than this.

I picked up the bag. It was a huge holdall. Perfect for a job like this. Kev swung his metal baseball bat over one shoulder. That bat made me almost as wary as Marcus’s knife.

“Giz a kiss.” Kev pulled me in. I obliged, knowing what would happen if I didn’t.

With that chore out of the way, we left the squat. Marcus was standing outside smoking a spliffy. He swayed on the spot and it was obvious he’d had more than a bit of coke. I’d guess he’d robbed some meth off someone.

“You keep edgie while we go in, aye?” Kev asked him. I didn’t think it was a good idea for Marcus to be responsible for raising the alarm if we were spotted. He wasn’t exactly observant when he’d had a few.

“Can’t she do it? Or are you plannin’ on wynchin’ her while I’m out in the cold?” Marcus grinned but he’d said nothing funny.

“Already done it, pal,” Kev replied. I hated that they talked about me like this. “Don’t you want to use your new chib?”

“Aye. But I dinnae want to miss out on the fun, either. I’ll be Nigel nae pals.”

“Aye, right. You just want to knock the morphine,” Kev countered.

As a trio, we made our way to the our destination. Kev and Marcus still bickered over who was doing what, but by the time we arrived, Marcus seemed to have decided to keep watch after all.

“That’s the place,” Kev whispered.

Jaswan Pharmacy was one of several shops in one of those run-down concrete shopping parades that had been optimistically built a long time ago to give council estates a sense of “community”. If community meant people coming together to rob shops for drugs or drug money, the town planners had succeeded.

The pharmacy’s shutters were down at the front. It might put off some people, but I had practice at this sort of job.

“Go on, do yer thing,” Marcus said, waving his knife in my face. I nodded and eyed the lock that operated the roller for the shutters. Any security was only as good as its weakest point.

“Piece of pish.” Easy to deal with. I pulled out my lockpicks and put them into the barrel, feeling for the pins. Turning slightly. Eyes closed. It was a delicate dance that could end in breaking the lock instead of opening it.

“’Mon, ‘mon, ‘mon, we’re no’ standin’ here for our health.” Marcus bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.

“Don’t rip your knitting, I’m workin’ on it,” I grumbled.

This wasn’t the sort of distraction I needed right now. Irritated, I twisted the pick too hard and the metal bent. Shit. Had I used too much force?

The lock turned. Shutter began to move. I breathed a sigh of relief.

It got halfway up then jammed.

“Stupid thing’s broke,” Kev complained.

“She broke it,” Marcus accused. “She did it on purpose.”

I rolled my eyes. Kev ignored Marcus. He knew what he was like. Marcus got edgy. He wasn’t good at holding it together under pressure. That was why I hated working with him. Usually, we’d take Jimmy-boy, but he got nicked for possession with intent to supply two days ago.

“I can’t get to the lock on the front door.” It was a high lock, covered by the partially-opened shutters.

“Fine, we crack a window, then.” Marcus snatched Kev’s baseball bat off him.

“No, stop! It could be alarmed!” Kev tried to take the bat back, but he was too slow. Marcus whacked the plate glass window and smashed it in. Glass shards tumbled away like snowfall. Immediately, an alarm blared.

“We need to scarper,” I said, looking around in case anyone on the deserted pavement had seen us.

“Not ‘til we’ve got the goods.” Marcus pulled his knife out and indicated for me to go in. “You broke the lock, you go in there.”

He put the knife to my stomach. One shove and he could gut me like a fish. I held my hands up and nodded.

“I’m going, I’m going.” I stepped into the pharmacy through jagged chunks of broken glass still framing the window. The shop floor was of no interest to me. I needed to get into the dispensary.

It was protected by one of those little waist-high swing doors with a partial counter on top. It didn’t even have a sliding bolt. I went straight to the high shelves that customers never saw. From experience of doing this in other pharmacies, the medications would be arranged alphabetically, with a locked cupboard for the really good stuff.

I swiped as many painkillers as I recognized, along with the cough medicine and other things Marcus would need to cook up some meth. The cupboard was another issue. I turned to work it out, then realized that the pharmacist hadn’t clicked the padlock properly at the end of the day. It opened easily, and I swiped the heavy shit. Oramorph went into the bag. Ketamine, too. Fentanyl. Diamorphine... that was heroin, so it went in. I grabbed the amphetamines, too. Speed, they literally handed out speed legally to some people.

There wasn’t a huge amount else on the shelves. This place must have been waiting for a delivery. I zipped up the bag.

“Tash, the police are comin’!” Kev shouted, pronouncing it po-lis. I ran to the door. Marcus blocked the broken window and held out his hands for the bag.

“Giz it!”

I shook my head. I knew what would happen if I let go.

“You’re on to plums if you think I’m giving you this. Get out of the way.”

“Let her out.” Kev dragged Marcus away from the broken window and I climbed out.

The sirens were getting louder. Blue and red lights flashed from up the road.

“You were too fucking slow,” Marcus growled.

“Come on, we need to scarper.” Kev began running. I followed. Around a corner, in a dark alley, Marcus snatched the bag off me and shoved me over. I fell down some concrete steps that must have led to a boiler or a stockroom. Pain flared in my ankle. I knew I couldn’t stop. Scrambling to my feet, I limped away after them.

Footsteps thudded behind me. The police were going to catch up with me. Someone slammed into me, I fell to the concrete and all my breath left my lungs in a whoosh.

Fuck. I was caught. Trying to stay calm, I remembered they had zero evidence I was involved in robbing the pharmacy.

“It’s not a balaclava, it’s a fucking Covid mask!” I shouted. “I’m an innocent bystander!”

On reflection, I might have incriminated myself by protesting. I shut my mouth.

“Two to trans mat.”

The voice sounded strange. Then, to my shock, the concrete surroundings vanished and were replaced by metal and lights. A man in a black uniform stood behind some sort of console pressing buttons. I looked over my shoulder at the one who was crushing me into the floor.

“This is police brutality!” I argued. “Get the fuck off me.”

“Lively, isn’t she?” the man behind me mumbled. He got up and let go of me. “We’ve been watching you for several days. You’re on our ship, now.”

I growled. “Did I fall on a needle with some shit in it? Am I trippin’?”

“No. This is real. You were on Earth, and now you’re on our ship.”

“You’re wired to the moon if you think I’m falling for that shyte,” I replied. Had Marcus put something in the last drinks we’d had? God, I hoped I was somewhere safe. I didn’t want to come down from this and find out I’d been rolling around by myself in the Clyde this whole time.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ skelp Marcus next time I see him.” Being off my head this bad was the last thing I needed today. It had been months since I’d last been this out of touch with reality. I wondered how much time had really passed since we’d ripped off the pharmacy.

“Are you under the influence of dangerous substances?” The man’s voice was so weird. And he was taller than any human I’d ever seen. His muscles rippled in the light.

“Well, obviously,” I snapped. “I wouldn’t be hallucinatin’ a spaceship if I was straight up.”

“Tell the captain I’m taking her to the medical bay to be detoxed. She will probably still be there when we arrive on Epsilon. Remember, only those with red-level clearance can know about her. Don’t mention her to anyone off the ship.”

“Understood, sir.”

The second very tall bloke saluted and stayed where he was. The other one walked me out into a metal corridor. I was beginning to sense a theme, here. I didn’t remember ever hallucinating this bad before. Shit. I hoped I was going to a real hospital, in real life, and that this was just the way my brain was reimagining it. If I was this far gone, I was going to need medical help.

The tall man opened another door and led me in. Another giant stood in what looked like a doctor’s coat.

“This is Natasha?”

“How’d yer ken that?” Had he been following me? How else could he know who I was?

“Yes. She needs a drugs test.”

“She doesn’t look like an omega.” A what?

“That was the point.” The other one sounded like he was bored. They all spoke very properly. I supposed a lot of doctors did. They were usually from wealthy families with three-bedroomed houses and parents with jobs. People with facilities as my uncle Robert had always put it. Not that I’d met many of them. We didn’t exactly move in the same circles in life.

“Dinnae let me keep ye, pal.” I rolled my eyes when I spoke.

“I think that’s the least of your worries. She’s also riddled with parasites and appears to be suffering from a venereal disease.” The doctor’s tone was so condescending, and so was the way he’d deliberately turned to the other bloke to talk about me like I didn’t matter. I was just an object, to them.

“Fuck off!” I’d like to see him live in a clatty shithole and not get the occasional flea.

“Can you heal her? We need her in a good state for the mission.”

“Remove all her clothing. And put it into the biohazard waste disposer.”

“You’re no’ getting my clothes off me!” I shouted. The doctor rolled his eyes. He reached out and tore my thin T-shirt off. I imagined that what had really happened was paramedics had cut it off with those fancy scissors they carried.

“You can’t win this. You’re weak as a kitten and very sick.” He tore my jeans off, next. Kicking out at him, my foot connected with his knee, but my soft trainers were ineffective and he didn’t even show any signs of pain.

My underwear, shoes and socks were removed in a similar manner. The other huge man picked everything up and put it into a chute.

“Ay! That was my shit! Giz it us back! I’m fuckin’ heavy ragin’!”

“Urgoth, is the translator not working properly?” the doctor asked.

“Think you can dinghy me? Fucking nae chance, pal!” I retorted angrily.

“She is speaking gibberish. The translator can’t make sense of it. I assume it’s to do with how intoxicated she is.”

“What kind of Jakey name is Urgoth?”

The doctor sighed in resignation. “I see. Fine. Get her on the bed.”

Hands moved toward me and I batted them away.

“Wrap it. I can move myself, pal, a’right?” I climbed onto the trolley. There was no pillow. What was the NHS coming to, these days, when the hospital couldn’t provide pillows for patients? The doctor scanned me with some sort of metal device. It bleeped.

“She has tapeworm, ringworm, fleas, lice, and appears to have a touch of chlamydia. She’s also currently got nicotine, alcohol and ketamine in her system.”

“Ket. Fucksake. Marcus is pure gallus. I must be a complete stoater.” I was so annoyed that Marcus had slipped me ketamine at some point. At least it explained why my brain was reimagining the Glasgow Royal Infirmary into some sort of spaceship. I’d never gotten on with ketamine. Last time I’d taken it, I’d thought I was a horse having an out of body experience. Apparently I’d been neighing into a corner of the squat for three hours. The comedown had been brutal. “Fuckin’ bastard. Marcus? If yer c’n hear me ye’re dead!”

The men were looking at me like I was making a scene.

“Can we get her to shut up?” Urgoth asked. “The continuous gibberish is reminiscent of a toddler.”

“Who ye fuckin’ callin’ a wain, pal?” I demanded.

“The detoxification process will be sedating. We feel it’s kinder to the patients.” Detoxification? Wait, had I been taken to the other hospital?

“Is this the nuthouse? Aw, fucksake, if Marcus got me banged up in the nuthouse I’m gonna be ragin’!”

“This has happened before?” Urgoth looked surprised.

The doctor nodded. “Plenty of times. The streets of Epsilon are riven with victims of various chemical concoctions.”

“Why have I never seen them?”

The doctor gave him a hard look. “They built better streets for people like you to walk on. Are you sure you’re up to being her handler? This isn’t a mission to get her into Grigor. There’s no glory or adventure on this one. Just reality.”

“Are you questioning my role, Kavat?” Urgoth’s tone darkened. I got the impression he wasn’t used to anyone doubting his abilities. At my best guess, Urgoth was a social worker? Or one of those CPNs... those happy-clappy types that went to depressed people’s houses and told them life would be perfect if they just took their pills and stayed positive. I’d crossed paths with a couple of them. They were usually less use than a chocolate fireguard.

The men faced off against each other. Another thing I’d never seen doctors in a hospital do. The longer I thought about it, the more I was sure Urgoth was actually a social worker, since the other guy had said he was supposed to be my “handler”. Social workers handled people. Badly. Fucked up lives.

“You can get to fuck if you think I’m going on some reform programme. I’m happy with my life. Leave me the fuck alone. Where the fuck were you when my stepdad was givin’ me a doin’ every night, skelpin’ the shit out of me wi’ his belt? Go save someone else. I don’t need it.”

“That was almost comprehensible,” the doctor remarked. “Inserting IV line.” He stuck a needle in my arm and attached it to a clear tube that went up to a drip.

At first the liquid was cold all the way up my arm, but then I got used to it. My eyelids felt heavy. Vision blurred worse than it already was. Eyes closed.