The constellations lit her thoughts like a glowing web with roots reaching down to the major ground-side hubs. An odd-shaped void defined the edges of the caliph’s empire. She couldn’t see inside the agency’s office in DC, either, which was as it should be, though she was desperate to know their reaction. No doubt they’d seen the craft leave the station. They probably expected it to return to Chennai, where it originated and wouldn’t get shot down.

Chennai.

The word somehow worked as a key. She saw Nithya and Luis’s flat again. People slept in beds rather than the floor. India had deployed a full constellation, and Ao Tara had not shut it down. Welga could sense how easy it would be to take control of the high-altitude drones, to corrupt their software and send them plummeting to the ground. With enough minds working in concert, they could crash the entire world’s stellas at once.

Speaking of falling from the sky, when we drop below thirty-two kilometers, we’ll be in range of the US Air Force jets that just took off from a carrier in the Indian Ocean.

They wouldn’t fire on an Indian spacecraft.

Are you sure? Because they’re programming their missile guidance systems.

Shit! Can we talk to them, explain the intended prisoner swap?

We can try.

Welga narrowcast to the fighter pilots’ WAIs: This is Olga Ramírez. I have with me a representative of the Machinehood who wishes to negotiate peace in exchange for the American prisoner, the dakini. We request permission to land at Andrews Air Force Base.

After five minutes, they had no reply. She chose to broadcast their message on every public channel in the world. That got the attention of anyone who was awake and listening. Her tip jar ticked upward. How sweet—I didn’t realize our fans were so loyal. Still no response from her country. Meanwhile, India and China had scrambled jets and were now engaged in a game of high-altitude chicken with the Americans. Both Asian governments sent her guarantees of safe landing, but there was no way in hell she’d put Ao Tara in their hands. She didn’t know any of the key players there. Her president might have let her down—again—but she trusted Olafson, the intelligence community, and the US military more than India’s or China’s, and she hoped they’d return the favor.

Ao Tara leaned close and shouted, “My agent says we’re in danger of being shot out of the sky.”

“Yes. I’m trying to figure out what to do about that. They’re not responding to my messages.”

“May I suggest that you harness your newfound abilities to disable the jet WAIs?”

Welga glared. “That would make those pilots crash! They can’t use manual controls that high up.”

But the monk’s question gave her an idea.

Can we disable the jets’ weapons controls?