A SILVER BLUR pierced the ship’s hull and struck Zanj from behind. She tumbled into the hollow space within Groundswell as the blur bulged and transformed, shifting form to match her every strike, gnawing at her skin, at the Star.
Viv staggered, almost fell, reached for something to steady herself—and felt familiar arms embrace her, too fiercely for her broken ribs’ comfort. “Ow.” But she couldn’t stop from smiling.
Xiara let her go at her protest, and she almost fell—caught herself with a hand on the other woman’s shoulder, steadied, and stared, relieved, into her turning pilot’s eyes as the battle bloomed above them with apocalyptic fire and bursts of ultraviolet light.
“You’re safe,” Xiara said, and kissed her, which she liked, though that hurt, too. “Oh my god, your face.”
“And my hand, and ribs, and—” But she kissed her again. “What’s going on here? You…”
“We’re here to rescue you.”
“We?”
“Gray and I. I saw Zanj and Yannis working together, Zanj was drawing the Star, you were hurt. I thought we wouldn’t get here in time. I thought—when I thought the elders kidnapped you, I ran to Zanj for help. When I freed Gray, I realized what she was doing. So I pushed as much of the ship’s power into him as he would hold, so he could fight her. It’s all my fault, I didn’t see—”
“No! Xiara, Zanj was trying to trick them. To keep me safe.”
“Oh,” she said. She looked up into the mess of light and fire. “Well. She’s doing all right, all things considered.”
She blinked, finally thinking through the pain. “Wait a second. Are you inside the ship? This ship?”
From above, a roar: “I’m on your side, you gluttonous waste of silicon!” The sound that followed was a crash of cars dropped from an airplane onto a granite flat. “I am sick—of—people—tackling me—for—no—reason!”
When Xiara smiled, arcs of lightning darted between her teeth. “Groundswell. It’s broken, but Zanj gave me its keys, its true name. Viv, the size of this ship—I can feel gravity waves, I can see your mind inside your skull—” She pulled her closer, tighter, kissed her with darts of static—and as she did, the ship rippled around them. “It’s beautiful.”
Even with the broken ribs, even with the fucked-up hand, it felt … good. Excellent. Ideal. She kissed Xiara, and this time there was no collapse, no withdraw. When she pressed into her, she pressed back.
Gray crashed to the hull behind them, and a cloud of debris rose into the night, only to patter and ting off a forcefield Xiara popped into place around them.
“You know,” Viv said, “I’ve never hugged a battleship before.”
Xiara grinned. “You’ll get used to it.”
Behind, Gray: “—traitor all along, just waiting for a chance to turn—” Something, probably Zanj, hit him very hard.
“Gray,” Viv said without turning. “It’s fine.”
“What?”
“It’s fine. Zanj is on our side.”
“That,” Zanj growled, “is just what I’ve been trying to tell you!”
“Of course you would say that! Even if you weren’t. Especially if you weren’t.”
“Just shut up and listen,” Zanj said. “We have a very brief window here. Yannis is out, and Nioh, but they’ll wake up soon. The Cloud’s rolling back in, because Viv broke the Empress’s lock, and that will make them stronger. I want to get us the hell out before any of our other friends decide to show—”
Up was the last word, but lost beneath a crackle, snap, and hiss of static. A gleaming golden cloud filled Groundswell’s hollow core in an instant, spun, and resolved. Its billows sharpened to features, sculpting form.
Viv did not recognize the Grand Rector of the Mirrorfaith at first: bald and ageless, beautiful as a bomb. Viv had only glimpsed her on Hong’s wrist screen as they escaped High Carcereal. Now she saw her mountain-sized and fearsome, draped in robes of the ’faith.
But she recognized the ships visible behind her, diamond cathedrals burning among the wrecked ships in Groundswell’s orbit. And she recognized, too, with one final iceberg turn in her gut, Hong, kneeling by the Rector’s side, under heavy guard, in chains.
“Vivian Liao,” said that voice of instinctive, sneering command, “and friends. We have placed your ship under interdict. Thanks to a timely prayer from Brother Heretic Hong, we have come to save you from the greatest blasphemy. Surrender yourself to our care and study. Be welcomed to the ’faith as a treasure beyond price. Or we will burn your world, and kill your friends, and sift your corpse and its ashes for the sacred truths we seek.”