Tennal was an accessory to murder. He couldn’t even keep the whole thought in his head at the same time: it was so awful that he could only grasp the edges of it. He’d always known he made things worse for people he liked just by being around them, but he’d never imagined this.

He couldn’t bear being inside his own head. He wanted to dissolve into Surit, but that wouldn’t undo any of it; that would only burden Surit with Tennal’s thoughts on top of his own. Tennal couldn’t even leave Orshan space without dragging part of Surit’s essence with him. Tennal was stuck with everything he’d ever done and everything his family had ever done, and there was nowhere to go.

Istara’s request pinged on his wristband, with slightly more colorful language as they got closer to the jump.

Tennal made his way back to the bridge.

His thoughts were blank. This was the gift of the military, he realized. It made your actions automatic. He’d spent so long trying to find a way to stop thinking; who knew that all it took was to have walked down the same corridor dozens of times, to sit at a bank of desks the same as the ones you’d trained on, for your unit-mate to look up in familiar irritation and say, “There you are. Get your headset on. I’ll get up the map.” Tennal’s muscles knew the drill. He didn’t have to think about what he had done to Surit just by existing.

He put on his headset. He looked at the map.

It took only an instant for him to sink outside his body. It was easier every time, and this time was like water running downhill. It was as easy as blinking to draw on Surit’s power now.

I’m taking us closer, Tennal said. I can see a shortcut. Back by his body, he could sense Istara frantically keeping the spaceship from hitting any of the near obstacles with their dual controls as Tennal ripped them all through rift after rift.

It was the same, he realized, in his dreamlike state. The contours of his mind, the storm of chaotic space, the ocean Surit saw in their heads, the fabric of space between galaxies: it was all the same. Tennal felt both unutterably expansive, as if he himself could encompass star systems, and also very small. There was so much universe. He didn’t have to be a shackle around Surit’s leg. He didn’t even have to die. He could leave enough of himself behind, and just, and just—

Next jump is the last one for now, Surit said tersely. Tennal knew Surit could feel something was wrong but not exactly what. That’s an order.