Too tired and numb to talk, I signaled a negative through the feed. It hadn’t had a choice. And I hadn’t broken its governor module for its sake. I did it for the four ComfortUnits at Ganaka Pit who had no orders and no directive to act and had voluntarily walked into the meat grinder to try to save me and everyone else left alive in the installation.

ART said, Now get on the other platform. The shuttle will land soon and there is a great deal of evidence to destroy.

*   *   *

When Tapan woke, I was sitting on the MedSystem’s platform holding her hand. The MedSystem had taken care of my wounds, and I’d cleaned off all the blood. The projectiles that had hit me and the energy bursts from my own weapons had left holes in my clothes, and ART had produced a new set for me from its recycler. It was basically ART’s crew uniform without the logos: pants with lots of sealable pockets, a long-sleeved shirt with a collar just high enough to cover my data port, and a soft hooded jacket, all of it either dark blue or black. I fed my bloody clothes into the recycler so the waste-reclamation levels would be neutral and ART wouldn’t have to forge its log.

Tapan blinked up at me, confused. “Um,” she said, and squeezed my hand. The drugs made her expression bleary. “What happened?”

I said, “They tried to kill us again. We had to leave. We’re back on the transit ring, on my friend’s ship.”

Her eyes widened as she remembered. She winced, and muttered, “Fuckers.”

“Your friend was telling the truth, he gave me your files.” I held up the memory clip, and showed her I was putting it into the interface pocket in her bag. I’d checked it already for malware or tracers. “This ship has to leave soon. I need you to call Rami and Maro to come meet us outside the embarkation zone.”

“Okay.” She fumbled at her ear, and I handed her the blue feed interface. One of ART’s drones had found it in Tlacey’s pocket. She took it, started to put it back in her ear, and hesitated. “They’re going to be so mad.”

“Yeah, they are.” I thought they would be so glad to have her alive it wouldn’t occur to them to be angry.

She winced again. “I’m sorry. I should have listened to you.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Her brow crinkled. “I kind of think it was.”

“It was my fault.”

“It’s both our faults then, but we won’t tell anybody,” Tapan decided, and wiggled the interface into her ear.

*   *   *