As she climbed the long ramp to the deck, the people around her gasped. She followed their gazes upward. Gray streaks chased silent blazes of white light. Shit. The Machinehood had knocked out the emergency stellas. Her stomach twisted with helpless urgency. Twelve days to reach Hong Kong. Another three from there to Chennai. How much more damage would the world take in the meantime? What else would the Machinehood destroy with few witnesses and no recorded evidence? Cutting off communications was a damn effective way to terrorize.

They shared a cabin with three others, all of them Chinese nationals who spoke no English. If the stellas worked, their agents would’ve translated for them. Instead, they settled for hand gestures and friendly smiles. A total of six fold-out bunks lined the two sides. The head was in the hallway and shared with everyone else in their section. A tiny shower had a ration roster taped on pulp paper. Each person could sign up for one shower every other day.

Welga fell into the bottom bunk. She hadn’t taken a zip in over an hour, and if she was going to collapse, better to lie down first. She asked Ammanuel—Jady, if they were going to be this friendly—to scope out the lay of the ship. At the least, they needed to know where and when to get food. Welga also wanted to know where they could exercise.

“Keep a lookout for a working pill dispenser,” she called as they were leaving.

The chances of the ship having one were low, but it never hurt to check. The number of pills she’d taken from the asshole in Phoenix wouldn’t last her a week at the rate she needed them now. She’d have to space them further apart than comfortable. It would go easier if they didn’t have cabinmates, but somehow they’d have to communicate that her condition wasn’t contagious.

Luis and Jady returned to report what Welga had suspected. No pill dispensers. No satcom tethers. This wasn’t a military ship or a passenger cruise. They’d been lucky to get berths at all. An open space on the upper deck could serve as an exercise area. The cafeteria was one deck above them, amidships.

They had nothing much to pass the hours. Welga tried to read the massive document from Nithya and found the science too complex to understand. Josephine Lee’s resignation letter made more sense. The content and timing aligned with Lee’s journal. Welga would have to win her trust before convincing her to testify against Synaxel, especially now that she was Ao Tara, the leader of Eko-Yi. If the monk had anything to do with the Machinehood—if she’d knowingly harbored them—trust might be asking too much. Play the sympathy angle. Make Ao Tara feel guilty. It’ll be a breeze in this condition.