Chapter Twenty-Three

Cira

Terra-Sol date 3814.258

This will work, Cira told herself. Just because it hasn’t yet doesn’t mean it won’t. There’s no way anyone can hide from us if we get these into enough hands.

It was true. Would it happen in enough time, though? Even without seeing an actual countdown, she knew their deadline had to be approaching. Running shaved precious seconds off the travel time between teams, but delivering the first five LSSs still took half an hour.

Since Adrienn was the senior officer, ze did most of the talking. Cira only jumped in when needed. Riston didn’t even breathe loudly, not within sight of any crew. Zir entire focus was on monitoring the readouts. It gave zem an excuse to stay several yards back with zir eyes cast down. The crewmembers looked at Riston; ze never let zirself look back.

In between those brief stops, though, was entirely different. At first she only heard periodic muttered curses, but by the end of their first half hour out of medical, Riston was staring at the green dots on zir screen and all but growling with frustration. “Ghost’s only been on this ship for four weeks! They shouldn’t know it better than us!”

Us. Cira tried not to show how much that tiny word thrilled her.

“Construction plans, probably.” It was the answer she’d come up with after asking herself the same question. “Those details are supposed to be secured, but security doesn’t seem to matter to them. Plans are how I’d do it—make agents memorize every detail of the target’s layout.”

The sixth search team was working on the port side between decks five and six. Getting there meant crawling through the tunnels, and since Riston had spent more time in these hidden lanes than Cira and Adrienn combined, she tried to nudge zem into the lead. Ze shook zir head and stepped firmly into last place. Cira was the one who led them from the main halls of deck five to the search crew on the opposite side of the ship.

“I was wondering.” Adrienn huffed, wheezing slightly as ze clambered after Cira. “Why isn’t it worse?”

“Worse?” She stopped short, turning to stare at zem. “What do you mean worse? They’re apparently trying to send us to the other side of the galaxy!”

“Exactly! Nothing on the ship has been broken—even our communications will be fine once the block is dealt with. They haven’t irreparably broken anything,” Adrienn pointed out. “Why? If someone wanted to get rid of the fleet, there are easier ways than transdimensional drives. Developing tech like that must’ve cost more credits than a fleet of warships.”

“Which they could’ve used to blow us up.” That hadn’t occurred to Cira before. She’d been too focused on what was happening to speculate on what could be happening instead. “Why didn’t they blow us up? It’s what I thought was happening at first.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Adrienn exclaimed. “No bombs. Plus, when they realized Riston and the others were here, they didn’t murder them and hide their bodies in a cargo hold.”

“Yes, they did,” Riston growled. “Shadow—”

“Was alive when you found him and alive when you brought him to me.” Adrienn’s voice gentled, and sorrow was etched into the lines on zir face. “His death was a series of unfortunate accidents. The blade did damage, but he could’ve survived it.”

“Then why—”

“His spleen ruptured before you got him on my operating table,” Adrienn quietly interrupted. Cira was frozen ahead of them, watching Riston’s breath come quicker and zir fists clench tight. It was a standoff Riston wouldn’t win. As mild-mannered as Adrienn was most days, ze was still a brilliant doctor who’d fought to climb to the top of zir field.

“Was it my fault?” Riston’s voice cracked, and Cira’s heart did, too. How long had ze wanted to ask that question and kept zirself quiet by force of will.

“No,” Adrienn reassured. “There was a bruise on his side, something just beginning to show, and I think it must’ve happened when he was trying to hide. Knife wound or organ failure alone he could’ve survived. Both, though?” Adrienn slowly shook zir head. “Riston, nothing you could’ve done would’ve saved him, but I don’t think the intruder meant to kill him, either.”

Riston’s jaw clenched, muscles bulging under zir skin as tears gathered in zir eyes. The urge to gather zem up in her arms was hard to ignore, but they’d already stopped for too long.

“C’mon. We better keep moving,” Cira quietly prodded. “There’re still three to deliver.”

The two zeren glanced at her and muttered quick acknowledgements—Adrienn’s a simple “Right” and Riston’s a far more complicated “Sorry.” There was no way Riston was apologizing solely for the delay. Ze carried too much guilt on zir shoulders, and Cira wanted to force zem to dissect every thought in zir head until she could lay out all the errors and false equivalencies and show zem the truth instead. That was impossible now. All she could do was redirect zir attention.

“Any change on the maps?” She glanced back, relieved to find zem already checking.

“Not yet,” ze said. “I’m trying to reach Tink—uh, Mika. I think her team might be able to boost the LSSs sensitivity by linking the units. I don’t know if it’s possible, but it’s an idea.”

“If it can be done, Mika will find a way to do it,” Cira said.

Adrienn smiled. “That girl is so smart it scares me sometimes. I can’t wait to see what she’s like when she’s my age.”

“Yeah.” Cira faltered as the many things that could keep that from happening rushed through her mind. Swallowing, she managed to say, “Me, too.”

Riston was conspicuous in zir silence, and Cira couldn’t bring herself to look back. She pressed onward instead, narrowing her focus to reaching the next team as fast as possible. Whether or not Mika managed to boost the LSSs effectiveness, the odds would be better if all ten sensors were deployed. That was just statistical common sense. Cira could see the difference each time a new sensor was added to the sweep. The search map was getting more accurate.

Cautious hope bloomed in Cira’s chest. They’d find their target soon. They had to. No one was good enough to hide from signal sensors, a life sign sweep, and the crew. The biggest question wasn’t if the culprit would be caught but by which method.

Riston’s tablet chimed with an incoming alert.

Her heart leapt. Would Treble’s idea pay off so quickly? It was hard to believe, but when she turned, Riston’s fingers were dancing across the surface of zir tablet and through zir holo-controls. A grimly determined expression was settling over zir face.

“Good news or bad?” she finally asked.

“Both.” Ze looked up, gaze flitting around the junction until it locked on a display set into the wall. With a few quick gestures, ze sent several alerts and one map to the screen and pointed to one tiny red dot moving quickly up the starboard hall on deck three. “Most of the other teams have moved back to the body of the ship. We’re closest.”

“No.” Adrienn shook zir head. “We send security to investigate that dot.”

“They’re on their way, but I think…” With a couple flicks of zir fingers, Riston zoomed in on the red dot. “I think Ghost is headed for the forward elevator.”

“And we can’t assume the lockdown will keep them from using it.” Cira looked down the tunnel, already thinking about the route they needed to take. “But why? Where are they going?”

Riston frowned. “I wish I knew. We could cut them off.”

“Where would you go?” Cira asked.

“Neither of you are listening,” Adrienn protested. “We’re not chasing a criminal!”

“I’d want off this ship as soon as the work was done.” Riston held the tablet up, muttering as zir attention jumped between it and the wall displays. The sound stopped when ze zoomed in on the forward sector of deck twelve. “Here. It’d be the easiest place to shut off from the rest of the ship during an escape. There was a reason we always met here, after all.”

“That… Yes.” Cira nodded and scooted back, aiming for the closest ladder.

“No! Stop it!” Adrienn insisted. “This is a ridiculous, dangerous idea.”

Cira ignored zem—arguing would take time they didn’t have. “Get to the front, Ris. You know the best ways up.”

After tucking the tablet under zir arm, Riston scrambled closer. They were nine decks and a quarter of the length of the ship away from their goal, they were working against someone who knew the ship just as well as the crew, and they weren’t sure their guess had been right. Adrienn was right. This was ridiculous. Despite that, Adrienn followed close on their heels.

Cira tapped into the encrypted comm channel and connected to the team in medical. “Mika, there’s a signal.”

“I see it.” The girl’s voice sounded grim.

“Track it and let us know if they head anywhere other than deck twelve.” Cira grabbed the inset rung and hauled herself up after Riston.

“Why there?” Mika asked.

“That’s our best guess. We’re assuming they’re rushing because they’re done and trying to get away.” Cira followed Riston into a crawl space that, if she remembered correctly, would bring them to the starboard edge of the ship. “The two forward sections of deck twelve are the easiest places to secure. And each side has an external air lock.”

Mika’s breath caught. “Of course. How could I forget that?”

Every fully external air lock could be transformed into an escape pod. It detached from the ship and spun out into space. If Ghost broke through the lockout, they’d be able to flee even when Novis was traveling at superluminal speeds. Worse, someone skilled enough to break the lockout would also be able to break every homing beacon and tracking system in the escape pod. It’d become nothing more than a random hunk of metal in a quadrant full of them. Ghost would get away with this. They’d get away to do it again to another ship.

“Faster, Ris,” Cira urged.

“Fine.” Riston grunted and turned in to a side tunnel, this one tall enough for them to walk without stooping. After sprinting bow-ward for about five meters, ze stopped short, looking up at the ceiling. “This will be tight.”

Initially, Cira assumed ze’d meant in time. Then ze opened a panel Cira had thought was a storage compartment. It wasn’t much wider than one, but it was deeper, going up farther than Cira could see. Trepidation sent Cira’s heart fluttering. It went straight up. They’d be fighting artificial gravity with each centimeter gained, and their movements would be restricted by walls of metal and graphene no more than a meter square. It must have been part of the ventilation system, because she felt a faint, cool breeze brush her cheeks. She’d grown up inside a ship, but Novis felt like a town. It had never been confining. Now, she had to swallow hard before she reached up, grabbed the edge of the shaft, and hauled herself into the enclosed space.

Despite the divots sunk into the wall to aid in ascending the chute, maneuvering herself to use the false ladder rungs was annoying. And too slow. Instead, she only held those narrow rungs with the extra strength of her cybernetic fingers and braced the rest of her limbs flat against the other walls.

“Since you’re both committed to this lunacy,” Adrienn muttered up at them, “I’ve notified the captain and Meida.”

“I’ve got an open line to Mika, so Meida already knows,” Cira reminded zem.

“Probably, but I’ve got a direct like to the security backup now.” Adrienn grunted and dragged zirself up another level. “Two teams are converging on twelve.”

“We’ll get there first,” Riston said with confidence Cira couldn’t help believing in.

Chimneying up the shaft seemed so much slower than running through halls and passages, until Cira realized exactly how far through the ship this stretched. She rose past hatches labeled for decks four, six, and seven before the tunnel veered even slightly. Her shoulders ached, she’d have a collection of bruises on her back and her knees where she’d been pressed against protrusions in the walls, and something had cut into her forearm deep enough to have blood seeping into her uniform sleeve, and yet she wanted to grab Riston and kiss zem for thinking of this path. Ghost was dug too deeply into Novis’s systems. Stopping one elevator would be nothing for them. Here, there were few computer-activated cutoffs. Nothing kept them from progressing. And according to updates from Mika, Riston’s hunch was proving right.

Ghost was heading up. They were on deck ten now, and soon the only logical destination would be the one Riston had picked—the same spot she and Riston used to meet. Cira hoped their knowledge of that out-of-the-way spot would be enough to give them even a slight edge, although she didn’t see how. She supposed it’d only matter if they got to twelve in time.

“Oh, no.” Mika exhaled heavily. “They’ve vanished on deck eleven, starboard side. Either they’re out of range of all the sensors or they’ve gone invisible again.”

Cira could see the red lettering marking the hatch for deck ten just above Riston’s head. They didn’t have much farther to go. Reaching up, Cira grabbed as high as she could and hauled herself up. Her arms were trembling with effort, and her right shoulder was flaring with pain where metal met flesh. She pushed through and kept climbing.

“This doesn’t connect all the way to twelve,” Riston called down. “Another dozen yards or so, we’ll exit onto eleven and make our way up another way.”

“Lead and I’ll follow.” Cira ground her teeth and continued moving.

“Cira did you hear that?” Adrienn asked.

“No, what—”

“A security alert popped up on a bulkhead door,” Mika explained, her voice cutting into the conversation through the inner-aural comms. “There and gone. I think Riston was right and Ghost’s trying to seal themself in. You might not be able to get in if you don’t get there fast.”

Riston was already shoving open the hatch to deck eleven, letting zirself into a wider maintenance tunnel, and as soon as Riston’s feet hit the floor, ze was running. Cira had to sprint to catch up by the time she’d levered herself out of the tight space. Their boots sent up echoing thunks each time they struck the grated floor. Second by second, Cira felt her focus narrowing to two distinct goals—follow Riston and listen to Mika.

Riston skidded to a stop and grabbed the rungs of a ladder set into the wall. It led to another chute. At least this one was wider than the last and the ladder made climbing easy. It felt like progress. They might make it. No, they would make it. Losing this race was unthinkable.

An alarm blared through the tunnel, obnoxiously strident in the small space. Cira flinched. Her flesh hand slipped off the rung. Automatically, her cybernetic fingers tightened their grip to stabilize her. Riston shouted as the walls began to shiver.

“Faster! Cira, it’s closing!” ze warned. “Move, move, move.”

She looked up and saw it—the thick gray bulkhead door two meters above Riston’s head was moving slowly, its closure mechanisms sending the tremors through the walls. Heart leaping into her throat, Cira started climbing faster, pushing her aching body. Riston called encouragements as ze hauled zirself around the protruding door. As soon as ze was stable on the other side, ze reached down for her, beckoning for her to go faster.

The door was already halfway shut. Only a meter of space remained.

Cira flung her arm up. Riston’s solid grip landed tight around her wrist. With Riston to steady her, Cira planted her other hand on the shifting door and pushed. Both legs flailed in midair for one horrifying second. The closing door scraped against Cira’s thighs. She scrambled back, away from the incredible amount of pressure per square centimeter about to crush anything or anyone in its path. But Adrienn was still down there.

Riston leaned through the remaining gap, arm outstretched. When Cira crowded in and looked over zir shoulder, she could see Adrienn a meter below. The closing door cast a shadow across zir face, and it was quickly swallowing zem up. Cira’s stomach clenched.

“Climb faster!” she screamed.

Determination sharpened the features of Adrienn’s face, but instead of speeding up, ze fought to slide the straps of zir kit off zir shoulders. Ze was still moving, just not fast enough.

“What are you doing?” Cira scolded. “Forget the bag and hurry up!”

It was too late. The door was almost closed. Only about ten centimeters of space remained. Adrienn would never be able to squeeze through, and Cira’s heart pounded at the thought. Would she and Riston be able to finish this without zem?

“Take this!” Adrienn shoved the kit through the gap. “Be careful, both of you.”

Riston grabbed the kit and thrust it into Cira’s hands then leaned back over the waning space. It was like ze believed conviction would be enough to pull Adrienn past the barrier. But it wasn’t. Cira’s heart lodged in her throat as the door sealed, leaving her and Riston alone to face the enemy.

Tightening her grip on the hard casing of Adrienn’s kit, Cira sank against the wall, shaken and not wholly sure why. Adrienn was fine. With directions from security, ze’d find zir way to the main corridors of the ship and back to work. A door had closed, that was all. It wasn’t as though Adrienn had died.

True or not, the door had cut them off from the rest of the crew. She couldn’t help seeing it as a harbinger. Especially since they weren’t sure if there were more sealed bulkheads between them and Ghost.

“We need to keep moving.” Riston cleared zir throat, drawing Cira’s eyes and inclining zir head toward the ladder. When ze offered a hand up, she let zem haul her to her feet. Step two was arranging the straps on Adrienn’s kit so the pack wouldn’t impede her ability to climb or clang against the walls and announce them too early.

“How much farther?” Cira asked.

“A few minutes.” Zir voice was rough, but zir pace never faltered. “This is the highest bulkhead in this section, so by now they’ve pretty much cut themselves off from the ship. Even the slightest noise could alert them.”

Relieved, Cira nodded her understanding and gestured for zem to move ahead.

A burst of static and what sounded like half her name suddenly came through her comm. Cira paused with her hand on the rung of the ladder and listened. There were three more bursts of sound and static, each one carrying only shattered pieces of words.

“I think we’ve lost signal,” Cira murmured as she began to climb again. “That shouldn’t happen just because an escape pod is activated.”

“Maybe the bulkhead sealing caused it.” Riston reached the next landing and helped her over the edge. “We’ll run our comms directly through the panels once we get in there.”

If we can. The thought echoed in her head, but she kept it from leaping off her tongue. Doubt and fear ate at her, though. They’d already been separated from Adrienn, and they were heading into an unpredictable situation against a well-prepared foe. They’d only be able to connect to the comm system if Ghost hadn’t severed that, too.

They inched along and, very aware of the danger they were approaching, they communicated only in gestures and expressions as Riston led them toward the secondary exit. It was smaller than the main hatch, and it’d limit how fast they could exit the confined walkway. Riston leaned in and pressed zir ear against the panel, and Cira pressed her palm flat against zir back as though what ze was listening to might travel through the connection. It didn’t, but the sensors in her cybernetic palm picked up the faint, quick pulse of zir heart. It was a sharp contrast to the absolute stillness of zir lungs. They stood there for ten seconds. Twenty. Forty. Still, ze didn’t breathe.

Worried, Cira tapped twice on zir back and then traced a large question mark

Riston shivered and exhaled in a long burst before raising zir right hand to touch the side of zir head—the hand signal for okay when someone was enveloped in a vac suit. Then, Riston placed one hand on the latch that’d release the lock and held the other out to the side. Zir thumb and two fingers were splayed wide to count down. Now, Cira was the one not breathing.

Three.

Two.

One.

They burst into the room. Cira tried to be ready to run, to dodge, to block, or to attack, but the only thing she hit was air. The room was only empty space and the quiet hiss of a sealing air lock as Ghost sealed themself inside.

By the time they reached the small window and peered in, Ghost was already pulling on a vac suit. The separation countdown had already begun.

Cira swiped her wrist in front of a nearby console sensor, claiming control. What she’d feared was right—the regular communication channels had been shut down. Nothing she tried connected anywhere, but there was one system even the deepest infiltration shouldn’t be able to touch. Cira prayed to every power in the universe she was right as she brushed away the error messages and denial codes and activated the emergency intercom. It connected with a short, harsh alarm that had never sounded so beautiful to Cira’s ears.

“Attention crew, this is Ensign Cira Antares. The intruder is attempting to escape via air lock 12FS-A1.” As she spoke, her hands danced. She swiped through command after command, desperately entering every override she knew and just as desperately wishing the emergency channel allowed two-way communication. “Security and command crew to my location as soon as possible. All others, if you’re in this system and can stop the air lock from cycling through, do it. Do not let them leave this ship!”

She asked because she had to—every mind and hand was needed in a moment like this—but it would come down to her in the end. No one knew the tricks to the air locks better than she did. No one knew the security overrides and command codes by heart like she did, because no one else used them for cycles to let illegal passengers on and off the vessel.

But this time her codes weren’t working. Her overrides were being overridden by an automated program buried in the system. She was being cut off and shut out and turned away at every approach. There was no way she’d allow it. Pax Novis was her ship. Ghost would not get away with what they’d done to her home.

Riston, though, couldn’t help. Ze didn’t know the command codes or security overrides, and there was no one to fight. While she broke through the lock on the air lock’s security camera and displayed the feed on the smaller of her screens, Riston moved closer to the door and stood there staring through the small window.

“Who are you?” Riston demanded. Cira scoffed; what criminal would answer that?

“Lasalia Nadar, she. I’m originally from Vohtu in the Draconis System.” Her voice was soft and light, but there was a thread of weariness under the words. Surprised at both the answer and the tone, Cira blinked, her hands faltering on the controls. Inside, Lasalia was still getting into the vac suit, but her eyes fixed on Riston through the window. “You won’t find me in any databank, though. I was erased even more thoroughly than your stowaways.”

“Why?” The question burst out of Cira. An all-consuming need for answers loosened her tongue, especially since, against all odds, Ghost was talkative.

“I doubt you’re asking why I tried to research the children secretly living on your ship.” Lasalia looked straight at the camera. “But it’s not exactly hard to solve the mystery of why I might want to delete myself.”

“No. Why are you doing this?” Riston’s voice was strangely calm, and Cira found herself relaxing just a tiny bit, as though Riston’s serenity was soaking in through her skin.

“Because humanity has never been able to end a war without one of two things—an utter lack of resources or the absolute annihilation of one or both of the forces fighting.”

“We’re not fighting with anyone,” Riston pointed out. Cira’s heart fluttered to hear zem say we. She stuffed the response away and refocused on trying to find a way around the blocks Lasalia had installed.

“You’re enabling others to fight. Resources, remember?” Lasalia adjusted the set of the suit and lifted the helmet off the floor, but she didn’t put it on—she simply held it against her hip and stared steadily through the window, infuriatingly calm despite being seconds away from jettisoning into the vacuum with nothing but an escape pod between her and the endlessness of space. “The original purpose of the Pax ships was humanitarian, but in the last few centuries, the PSSC has become just another corporation trying to pull profit out of every micron of the quadrant.”

“We carry supplies that ensure the health and stability of people living in every inhabited system.” Riston repeated it like the adage it was; that lesson was taught to every Pax child.

Lasalia shook her head, and Cira noticed the bruise-like circles around her eyes. “Maybe, but that’s the same philanthropic shroud governmental and corporate powers use to stay within the letter of the Pax charter. What the PCCSs really do is ensure the governments of those systems have the supplies they need to stretch the war on ad infinitum.”

An idea struck Cira, and she went back into the emergency systems. So far, all she’d managed to do was slow the pod’s ejection down by confusing the system and making it reevaluate the condition of the ship. There might, however, be a way to stop the process. She shifted through files and subroutines of Novis’s core functionality, looking for a way to turn the escape pod into a prison cell while listening to Riston draw confessions out of Lasalia.

“And that’s our fault?” Anger filtered into Riston’s voice. “You’re blaming us for a war that started centuries before our parents were born?”

“No. I’m not. You, Riston, are one of the victims of this.” Lasalia spoke with even certainty. Objectively true or not, there were no doubts clouding Lasalia’s mind. “The systems’ constant battle for control is what leaves so many children orphans and so many parents grieving. On the surface, the Pax fleet promises aid, but nearly everything carried by the ships is only used to quell revolts or build bigger and stronger warships. The Pax fleet might not be responsible, but they’re not helping. Not anymore. It’s our hope that, once you’re gone, the people who profess to be representatives of peace will be motivated enough to work through to a lasting truce.”

Cira ground her teeth as she flicked through commands and menus to dive deeper into Novis’s systems. Lasalia may talk about spreading pacifism, but her group’s actions told a different story. Conspiracies, sabotage, murder, and more—maybe worse—was what Cira saw, and Lasalia had worked to send over two hundred people away from everything and everyone they knew. Her group didn’t want unity of the systems; they wanted control of them.

There was silence from Riston, and it stretched longer than Cira expected. When ze spoke, zir voice trembled with emotion. “Peace? This is really about ending the war?”

“By any means necessary,” Cira muttered.

“No. You’re wrong about that.” A pained edge came into Lasalia’s voice as she asked, “Did…did the child survive?”

“What?” Riston lurched backward. Automatically, Cira’s hand snapped out, ready to catch zem if ze began to fall. She returned to work the instant Riston’s balance stabilized. A second later ze surged forward, furious. “You stabbed him! You left him alone and away from everyone who might’ve been able to help him, and now you want to know if he survived?”

“Oh.” Lasalia looked down, voice faltering. “I thought he’d…he should’ve made it. I aimed where it’d do the least damage—I only wanted him to stay away, to stop following me.”

“He won’t be following anybody anymore.” The growl ze tried to infuse into the words cracked and broke, betraying the pain and loss ze still hadn’t had time to process.

“No one was supposed to die,” Lasalia said. “We didn’t even want anyone to get hurt. In every part of this plan, we’ve done everything we could to minimize loss of life. Unless you disturb the process I’ve already started, you will be fine. The ship will survive the jump, and everyone will live out full lives on board the vessel you already call home.”

“You’ve simply decided we’re not allowed to live out our lives here,” Riston said, voice flat. “Why do you get to make that decision? What gives you the right?”

“Nothing.” On Cira’s display, Lasalia stood straighter and pulled her shoulders back, either pride or defiance in her stance. “No one person can make a choice like that, which is why it was decided we’d only act on a unanimously approved plan.”

“One group set out to destroy another because they believe they’re right.” Riston shook zir head, lips curled in disgust. “Yeah, you’re nothing like the governments at all.”

Cira huffed a weak laugh and then choked on it when an alert popped up on her screen.

Escape pod sealed and activated. Launch in ten seconds.

Lasalia was still talking about governments and failed protections for citizens, but Cira barely heard it. Her focus had narrowed to the screen in front of her and the blur-quick motion of her hands and fingers as they skipped from one command prompt to another. At this point, she didn’t care if she broke the air lock and had to cut the doors open to get Lasalia out.

Nine.

Lasalia put on the suit’s helmet, securing it as she kept talking. Her words were little more than a hum to Cira as she desperately tried to do two things at once.

Eight.

If Cira could force a new ship scan, the system might note the lack of damage and deactivate the launch. While the scan was running, she also tried forcing the air lock into simulation mode to engage the safety mechanisms that kept trainees from launching themselves into the void. A or B. One or two. Either way, Lasalia wouldn’t make it off this ship.

Seven.

Lasalia couldn’t leave because she had to stop the other countdown happening on Novis. The only person who knew how to safely uninstall the transdimensional drive was about to eject herself into the vast nothingness between inhabited systems, and that could. Not. Be. Allowed.

Six.

“Yes!” Cira hissed when the clamps reengaged with a thunk. She hadn’t overridden the door yet, but what did that matter? Lasalia Nadar—if that really was her name—wasn’t going anywhere. “Keep talking if you want. It’s all being recorded for your trial on Paxis.”

Hopefully, that was true. Cira wasn’t sure. The cameras worked, but Lasalia could’ve disconnected them from the data core.

“I won’t make it back to Paxis.” Lasalia unlatched the seal on her helmet, took it off, and set it gently on the floor. As she straightened, she began to unseal and unhook the suit, too. When she looked up again, she was, inexplicably and unsettlingly, smiling.

“Yes, you will.” Cira left the console to stare at Lasalia without a camera lens and a screen between them. “We’re not like you. We don’t murder people just because they’re in the way. You’ll stand trial in exactly the same condition you are now. I’ll make sure of it.”

Slowly, Lasalia extricated herself from the top half of the vac suit, leaving her in just a black, long-sleeve, fitted shirt with the rest of the white and gray suit hanging from her wide hips. Although nothing in her expression or her movements made Cira think Lasalia had a backup escape plan ready to throw into action, something was putting Cira on edge and leeching the euphoria from what should’ve been a moment of victory.

“I hope one day the quadrant understands why we did this.” Lasalia looked away from the window to sift through the large pocket on the suit’s thigh. When she straightened, the blue light of emergency power glinted off something in her hand.

“What are you doing?” Cira demanded, more confused than scared. The woman couldn’t possibly think a knife would do her any good now.

“No.” Riston’s voice was a harsh, hoarse plea. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry. Close your eyes if you need to,” Lasalia said softly, regret in every word.

Dread settled in Cira’s stomach. “What—”

Cira stopped breathing the second she understood.

Comprehension, though, came too late.

Lasalia Nadar drew her blade across one wrist, a deep and vicious slash that splattered the white walls and floor. Then, as though she had to be absolutely sure no one could save her, she made one more cut—straight across her own throat.