“It’s either Cavalry calling us in or Oma trying to bribe me over so she can put me on more vids,” Tennal said, his eyes still glued to the pilot console. “Either way, they can’t make us do anything while we’re in here. Can I see?”

“It’s just the newslogs,” Basavi reported after a moment, sounding nonplussed. “I don’t recognize the name of the originating ship; it’s just relaying newslogs into chaotic space. I don’t know if it even knows we’re in here.”

At that moment, something from the same burst pinged on Surit’s wristband. A transmission marked private.

The others didn’t notice him open it. A small, personal screen appeared in front of his eyes, as if he were reading a report. On it was an image of Governor Oma.

The clip was two seconds long. Oma simply looked straight into the camera and said, “Yeni, stop and report back.”

What—

Surit had never before felt a compulsion settle its firm, merciless grip on his mind. He had thought he was too strong an architect for compulsions to take on him for long. Of course, Oma had put one on him when they’d first taken him to Archer Link Station, but people had tried compelling Surit before, and surely …

But he only had a moment to think that, and then that was it. The compulsion settled over him, and everything realigned around a sudden, certain knowledge: he had to get back to Archer Link Station. He had to get back to Oma’s office. He had to.

His whole brain kicked into gear, synapses firing to work out how to get back as fast as possible. He had a vague sense that the crew might resist. That had to be avoided at all costs. “We need to change course,” he said. “We have to get out of chaotic space. Immediately.”

Basavi killed the comms screen, startled. “Yes, sir. Why…?”

Tennal’s head snapped up. Surit felt Tennal’s presence stir awake in his mind as well, aware of the change in Surit’s thoughts but not understanding it, not yet. “Surit, what the fuck?”

Tennal was his greatest threat. But Surit was a Rank One architect, and Tennal was his synced reader.

As Surit reached for the full extent of his powers, he wondered why he’d never used them much before. They came to his hand easily; they seemed stronger here, resonating with the chaos outside, with the fabric of space, with Tennal in his head. They filled his ears like a symphony.

We have to go, he said calmly. And he wrote Tennal.