The tube car accelerated fast. Tennal’s breath caught as they rocketed up the walls of the complex and joined a circle of transport tubes that ran around the dome. While their capsule coasted along, the city nestled in the station’s uppermost disc flashed by underneath.

Silver towers and streets flickered by one after the other. Despite everything, planet-born Tennal felt an unexpected relief. Archer Link Station wasn’t what he was used to, but it was still a city: there were neat blocks below them, scores of people walking to work, and tiny glass-enclosed gardens. After almost two weeks on a ship, it was such a relief to be able to see beyond the next corridor. Tennal missed the sprawling messiness of Exana so much that he ached, which was absurd, because he’d run away from Exana the first chance he’d had.

Tennal couldn’t see any docks from here. They must be somewhere close, because Archer Station was a staging post for journeys through the galactic link. Orshan’s link churned up an unusually large patch of chaotic space around itself, so the station had to be some distance away from the link—if it had been too close, it would have been torn apart. But every ship that went through to the wider galaxy docked here. Tennal just had to find his way onto one.

The tube car coasted down toward a shining set of buildings with official-looking domes and wings. That must be the governor’s office. Tennal tapped his fingers on his leg. “You don’t happen to know the whereabouts of Suri—Lieutenant Yeni? He’s my synced architect, in case no one told you.”

Captain Fari gave him a quick, tight smile. “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he said. “Lieutenant Yeni is under detention with the rest of the Cavalry intruders. He won’t be allowed within writing distance of you, or even out of detention. Are you satisfied with that?”

“Am I?” Tennal said blankly. That sounded like Surit hadn’t been waking up to a fresh-cooked breakfast. And, of course, they weren’t really synced. But Tennal had spent so much effort lying about it that it had become habit. “What are you planning to—”

“The governor will sort that out.”

“Oh,” Tennal said. “Of course.”

Tennal entered Governor Oma’s office alone. The first thing he saw was the floor-to-ceiling window looking out onto the sea of space.

He nearly stopped breathing.

The viewing pane stretched across the entire office. Behind it, its vast tendrils uncontained by the field of view, was the pale, eye-watering maelstrom of the link. Tennal stumbled toward the glass. He pressed his hands against it.