Gyre slipped out from behind his spur as soon as the ghoul turned the other way. The bomb had rolled across the deck, and he snatched it up. Turning the cylinder over, he found where Naumoriel had cut the fuse. It was easy enough to reconnect, and he tossed it over the heads of the little constructs and down the hole. The primary motivators sound important. Let’s hope. Moving as quietly as he could, he skirted Naumoriel and slipped to Kit’s side.

She lay slumped against the metal spur, one arm obviously broken, glistening bits of torn gut visible through the huge rent in her stomach. Her chin was coated in blood, but her eyes were open, and as he knelt beside her, she stirred enough to look at him. Her lips curled in a smile.

“Can’t … keep … you down, eh?” Her words were the barest whisper.

“Try to hold on,” he said, grabbing the remote trigger from her limp hand.

Kit laughed, a horrible sound that brought another gout of blood from her lips. “Fuck. You.” She leaned her head back against the metal. “Just … kill me. For … old times’ … sake.” Her hands moved against her stomach, squishing wetly. “This … really fucking hurts.”

The war-construct shifted with a whirr, tentacles holding Naumoriel halfway to the arcana-shrouded chair. The old ghoul was looking right at them, and Gyre slowly straightened up.

“Fine,” Kit said, her voice fading. “Have it. Your way. Slow and painful … it is.”

“Boy,” Naumoriel said. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Putting a stop to this,” Gyre said.

“Too late for that,” the old ghoul said, ears quivering. “Besides, I’m only going to grant you what you wanted. The destruction of the Order and the Republic.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Gyre said. “It’s no good if everything else is destroyed as well.”

Naumoriel’s lips split in a grin, showing pointed teeth. “In that case,” he said, “you should have bargained more carefully, human.”

“I’d like to renegotiate,” Gyre said. He flipped the grille up and pressed his thumb to the crystal switch.

The ghoul barked a laugh, ears twitching. “You ignorant wretch. Apparently you haven’t been paying atten—”

There was a low rumble, a buzz through the metal into the soles of Gyre’s feet. Moments later a pillar of smoke erupted from the hole in the deck, followed by a tongue of flame that blasted a dozen of the small constructs into the air. Another explosion followed, and then another, marching backward through Leviathan’s vast bulk. The deck shifted underneath them, canting as the entire enormous construct lurched drunkenly to one side. With a crash like a mountain coming to pieces, it hit the far wall, sliding down it in a scream of tortured metal until it finally stuck.