The seething force of energy in Surit’s mind paused, as if Tennal had heard that thought and hesitated.

But—no. Surit felt it. This wasn’t quite a sync. Surit still had defenses, even if Tennal had reached out to flood his mind and Surit had let him in. Surit could visualize it: two hands touching but not clasping.

Even as he had the thought, Tennal was moving again. He had control of Surit’s eyes and overlaid them with something else: his reader senses. Surit—Tennal—no, both of them—could see the flow of space around them with a startling clarity, as if they’d opened another eye with different vision. Where there had just been clouds, there was now a maze: a set of currents like they were a fish navigating water.

And they could see a way through.

The oasis of clear space was rapidly disappearing behind them, destroyed by the rogue scanning ship. Had it gone haywire? Was anyone piloting it? It didn’t make any difference: the only way to survive was to get back to the fleet. “Istara, stick behind me,” Surit managed. It felt like he was talking with someone else’s mouth.

Better hope Istara’s as good as they told me they were, a whisper came inside his head. Was that Tennal?

Surit-Tennal’s tug dived into the currents. Surit couldn’t tell how he was navigating, only that his knowledge of the controls and Tennal’s reader senses gave them a path where there shouldn’t be one. He could see Istara tracking him so close, the nose of their pod was nearly in his stabilizers. Surit-Tennal dodged and weaved and rode currents that threatened to smash them apart, until finally—

—finally, they shot back out into the clear paths.

There was no sign of the scanning ship. The Note’s fleet was scattered across the tunnel of clear space, much as it had been when Surit left. That was odd. The fleet should have moved on at a constant pace while they were out of sight. Instead they seemed to have halted, the smaller ships anxiously flocking together.

Surit blinked, reaching for Tennal’s senses to understand—

“Get out of my head!” Tennal said desperately over his wristband.

Surit’s mind reared back, horrified. He’d just tried to tighten his mental grip and complete their half-performed sync. He felt another flash of searing pain, and then he and Tennal were two separate people once more. “Sorry! Sorry.”

“No offense taken,” Tennal said, though his voice was cracked. Amid a surge of guilt at his mistaken sync attempt, Surit remembered the last couple of times Tennal had used his reader senses. Tennal was probably head down with exhaustion on his console. At least he was awake this time. But after a moment, Tennal said in a different tone, “Oh, wait. Wait! Lights, I think it’s my birthday!”