STRANGE ARE THE wheels of fate. You’ve got your grandfather back, and I’ve lost my father a second time.” Various hues of emerald and jade shaded Orion’s lem body from head to toe.
The pain meds Coraz had given Sabira created a feeling of taking one step back from her senses. Even shoulder to shoulder, she felt as if Orion was planted on the other side of the hangar.
Together, they stared through the window of the airlock’s inner door. On the other side, Grandfather Spear knelt in supplication. Forehead, palms, and knees pressed to the deck while he mumbled under his breath. Cobalt blue stripes pulsed through the biomech implanted into his neck and upper spine.
“I saw him. Your father, Subaru. He wasn’t . . . It didn’t seem like he was fully in control of himself.”
Orion studied her with eyes like swirling veins of jade.
“It reminded me of the way Warseer Zika seemed to be controlling Grandfather Spear and Daggeira. Not just ordering them, but directly using their bodies somehow. Like that, but deeper. Like the Final Masters had dug into his mind.”
“Subaru Hanada was—is—a Muyama Adept. His mind would not be soft mud for the Final Masters to easily dig into.” The swirling of his eyes stilled, dark green pupils settling into deep, reflective pools. “However, I agree with your assessment. It’s the best explanation for his behavior. I knew something was glitchy since his first transmission, but I didn’t want to accept he could be reduced to . . . a mere puppet.”
“Now, they’re doing the same to Daggeira.” Sabira turned and leaned back against the airlock door. The cool, hard metal felt distant, out of reach. “Will we slice void soon?”
“I’m getting us as far away from Loshan Bastion as fast as I can. But we can’t slice.”
“What happened?”
“All things considered, Torque did an amazing job bringing the pagoda back online. Didn’t exactly know what she was doing, though. More intuition than anything. Accidentally blew out several of the feedback modulators. For the foreseeable future, no slicers and no veils. I’m pushing us with sublights back to the Shattered Gates, but we’re out in the open. If Godsfall comes online and Daggeira, or my father, or whoever is in that thing comes looking, they’ll see us. And if they have slicer engines, they’ll catch us.”
“So it all depends on how fast it will take for Daggeira to claim control of Godsfall?”
“You got it.”
“And we have no idea how long that will take.”
“No, we do not.”
“How long until we reach the Gates?”
“Six days.”
“Godsdammit.”
“So, at the risk of sounding rude, why not you?”
“Instead of Daggeira?”
“For Godsfall, yes. Why didn’t the Final Masters choose you?”
“I don’t know. I remember Subaru said the Final Masters wanted revenge against the Gods. But Daggeira still believes in the Gods, deeper now than ever. In the end, after everything, she even said that she didn’t want Godsfall. But they still chose her.”
“And you? Did you tell Subaru you wanted it?”
“I didn’t say anything. There was this light—this blinding yellow light—and my head hurt so drilling much. Even though, just a minute before, all I had thought about was catching Daggeira, at that moment, I . . . I couldn’t stop thinking about Zonte. How I should never have left him behind. If only I hadn’t gone after her, I could have protected him. He’d still be . . .”
“I see.”
“I see, too.” Gabriel walked across the hangar bay to join them. “I see a warrior with an open heart. I see a free woman who could no longer be reduced to a tool for others. Daggeira was chosen to be the Final Master’s weapon because, deep down, she had already made the choice to be one. And you, Sabira”—he rested his gloved palm on her shoulder—“had already made the choice to be something more.”
Sabira barely felt Gabriel’s hand. Normally strong and reassuring, his touch felt disconnected, like it was happening to somebody else. And she definitely didn’t feel like “something more.” If anything, she felt less certain of who she was. Of who she should be.
“How are the others?” Sabira asked.
“Coraz is keeping Playa mildly sedated for now,” Gabriel said. “As you can imagine, she’s devastated. The others are saddened and shocked at Zonte’s loss, of course, but coping. You should check in on them yourself.”
“You’re right, I should.” No, I shouldn’t. They don’t want to see me. They don’t want to be reminded of how I failed Zonte. How I failed them all.
Gabriel lifted his hand from Sabira’s shoulder and peered through the airlock window. “Seeing how we’ve all decided to check in our prisoner, any thoughts about how to proceed?”
“I was wondering if we shouldn’t sedate him, as well,” Orion said. “Though by the looks of him, I don’t think that’s necessary. We should flush all the psychotoxins out of him as soon as possible. That kind of intervention will go considerably better with his cooperation.”
“Can’t we do like Maia did with us?” Sabira asked. “Give him the eon.”
“I’m afraid not,” Gabriel said. “Only an Oracle is qualified to brew and administer a proper batch for the drinker. And Maia would never have allowed an eon ceremony that wasn’t planetside.”
“Don’t glitch,” Orion offered. “The medical intervention will help him along plenty. Our brains are mostly chemicals. Flushing out the shitty ones makes a big difference.”
“And what do you think, Sabira?” Gabriel asked. “How should we move forward with your grandfather as our prisoner?”
“Let me in there with him. Alone.”
“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said. “That’s not advisable at the moment. Certainly not before the psychotoxin intervention.”
“He won’t hurt me.”
“If his surrender turns out to be a strategic ruse to get aboard our ship,” Orion said, “which is a strong statistical possibility, taking a hostage could be the next part of his plan. It’s no insignificant risk, giving him the opportunity.”
“I told you, he won’t hurt me.”
“How could you possibly know that for certain?” Gabriel asked.
“Because the Warseers finally did the impossible. They broke him. They broke his faith. Now, I’m all he has left.”