Tennal should’ve explained he wasn’t synced. He felt prickly and uncomfortable. He had the wild urge to defend the legislator’s decisions: he might loathe his aunt down to the nail on her little finger, but he understood and respected how she thought. You don’t know what I’m like.

Instead he gave Oma a false, earnest smile and said, “I appreciate the sympathy.”

“I can see you’ve come through an ordeal,” the governor said, her voice becoming brisk. “I respect that. I have neuromod medics on the station. They can have a look at you and see if there’s any way to ease your sync.”

“Can they break a sync?” Tennal said, before he’d thought about what that would mean. He could have told her he wasn’t synced, but he didn’t trust her an inch. The thing he really needed fixed was the priming. He had no idea if that had an expiration date, or if he could find a defense that would stop them from doing it again.

“Not without one or both of you dying,” Oma said. Tennal appreciated that she didn’t even try to make it gentle. “I believe neuroscience is working on it. But at our current level, no. I am sorry.”

Tennal realized what he was doing. He was bargaining. Some small, naive part of him thought there was a way out of this. That he could undo the priming, announce he wasn’t synced, and—then what? Go home? Go back to Exana and see Zin, somehow overlooked by the legislator, the regulators, and the combined Orshan military?

“Well, this has been entertaining,” Tennal said, dragging the remnants of his dignity back together. “Don’t get me wrong, I am very grateful for your help.” Embarrassingly grateful, in fact; Tennal was trying not to think about how much he wanted to latch on to a governor treating him like an equal, like life could be normal again. But Tennal really didn’t need any more medics poking around in his head, even to be helpful, and he was aware Oma’s goodwill would run out as soon as she got to know him.

“If you could put me in touch with my sister,” Tennal said, with his best imitation of sincere and polite—Lights, Surit would have been useful here—“and give me passage through the galactic link, I’d be in your debt.” That debt would be completely useless to her, since Tennal intended to be on the other side of the galaxy as soon as possible, but Oma knew that. Tennal was trading on the hope that she’d do it to spite his aunt. It wasn’t completely far-fetched. His aunt was an appealing person to spite.

Oma rose to her feet. She laid a hand on the glass of the outer window, contemplating the stars beyond. “Let me make you a counteroffer.”