It wasn’t as easy as writing Tennal, but Surit was at the height of his powers. Basavi jerked on her feet slightly and said, “Yes, sir, announcing course.” Surit swung around to Istara, but they were already sliding dutifully into the copilot’s chair.

Switching his architect powers between three people was not easy at all. Tennal and Istara exchanged a few terse words, but they’d done this before, so Surit had no need to force them through the individual steps. Surit took hold of a safety strap and watched them, his heart beating in a terrified patter. He had to get back. His entire future narrowed to that. He had to walk through the door to Oma’s office in Archer Link Station and report. That was the only thing that mattered.

Tennal shut his eyes. The ship shuddered as Istara brought it closer to distorted space. Surit recognized Tennal’s wayfinding method now and was no longer afraid when Tennal’s eyes turned empty and his fingers moved like a puppet, inputting information and directions to Istara.

It took minutes. The gravity fluctuated; Surit was the only one not strapped in and had to secure himself halfway through so he didn’t get thrown onto the ceiling. Anything could go wrong. Surit had to force himself to breathe.

Finally the shuddering of the ship stopped, and the gravity stabilized. Surit unstrapped himself and took a stride toward Tennal and Istara in the pilots’ chairs. They must be near normal space now. “Set course for—”

He was arrested by a forearm over his windpipe like a vise.

“Sir,” said Basavi’s voice in his ear. Her bulk behind him was immovable, pinning him to the spot in a textbook unarmed wrestling move. “I think you should go to Medical.”

Surit’s body moved automatically. He grabbed her wrist and threw her over his shoulder. He had taken unarmed combat classes in basic training, but so had Basavi, and Surit was used to having more of a height and weight advantage than he had here. She came flying over his shoulder but grabbed his arm on the way. Surit came down with a crash. Basavi rolled onto him and jammed her elbow into his stomach.

That moment of inattention was all Tennal needed to say, “He’s compelled,” and Istara stood from their terminal.

Surit slammed a write command into Istara, and they dropped back into their seat. But he’d taken his eyes away from Basavi, who punched him in the stomach a second time like a demolition ball. The other soldiers on the bridge started to stand and shout. Surit ignored the pain in his stomach and gathered the energy for another write command—

And then Istara shot him.

“Okay,” Tennal said, with a wan attempt at a smile, “the good news is, you’re not brainwashed.”