“Let’s get one thing clear,” I said. “I am not flying this ship for you. We are on a rescue mission, pure and simple. You’re just tagging along.”

I saw the muscles around his left eye twitch as if electrocuted. He looked like death. Supported by the exoskeleton, he rose to his feet in one smooth movement. Behind him, his chair tipped over with a crash.

“No! I’m not going back. Not for you, not for anybody.”

His eye convulsed again. He seemed to have lost control of that side of his face. Was he having a stroke, or some kind of fit? I took a step backwards, remembering his enhanced strength.

“The House of Reclamation is an independent and apolitical organisation,” I warned. “Any attempt to threaten or commandeer—”

With a roar, Childe lunged. I threw up my arms but he swiped them aside. One hand closed over my mouth. The other clasped my shoulder to stop me from struggling. He was close enough now that I could smell his breath. His servo-powered fingers dug into my deltoid muscle, bruising the skin. The pressure of his grip on my jaw forced my lips into an uncomfortable pout.

“Shut up!” he screamed.

Light flickered at the edge of my vision as a screen on the galley wall lit to reveal the face of the Trouble Dog’s avatar.

“Release the captain,” she said.

Ashton Childe shook his head. The entire left side of his face had contracted into a knot. His cheek muscles jerked and quivered, pulling up the corner of his mouth. His eyelid flickered in agitation.

“No way.” Sweat poured down his face, and the tendons stood out on his neck like lengths of high-tension steel cable. “I’m in charge now, you hear? You’re going to be taking orders from me.”

The Trouble Dog looked apologetic. “I am sorry, but that is not an option.”

I tried kicking his shins, but Childe simply tightened his grip on my face and shoulder. His fingers were like a docking clamp, and I swear I felt my jawbone begin to sag.

“I don’t want to have to kill a hostage,” he said. His eyes were wild and strangely unfocused. “But I will if I have to.”

The Trouble Dog glowered. “And I don’t want to have to vent all the air from the room you’re standing in.” Her gaze seemed to burn through the display. “But I will, if I have to.”

Childe gave a manic laugh, and I was terrifyingly aware that his enhanced fingers could easily crush my skull. “You’re bluffing,” he yelled at the screen. “You’d never risk your captain.”

The Trouble Dog raised her eyebrows. “You don’t know the first thing about me,” she said, “or what I’m capable of.”

“I know you resigned your commission.”