That had been Surit’s fault. Tennal was dissolving into the sync with Surit and neither of them could stop it. And worse—ten minutes after the breathing incident, Surit had written Tennal. He had overridden Tennal’s will because Oma had put a compulsion on him.

Surit had always known other people might act unpredictably. They might save you, or they might let you down. The one person you could always rely on to act with total predictability was yourself. Your own mind was the only thing you had total control of.

Yet he had let Oma use him to betray his unit.

Tennal had said it last night and again this morning: I trust you. Surit’s chest twisted. What if Oma had planted more compulsions? Surit didn’t remember any, but he hadn’t realized this compulsion was strong enough to last for weeks. What if she had a way to make him forget?

Surit had always been the strongest architect around. He should have fought harder. He’d refused to acknowledge what he had, and it had been used against Tennal. Against his unit. He had built his entire life around being dependable, and it turned out that was only a delusion.

Surit had used Tennal like a puppet. The sync was killing him.

We have some unwelcome visitors, Tennal commented in his head, from the bridge.

Surit roused himself out of the spiral and asked for detail. This, too, was his fault. Tennal offered a mental picture of the map, now functioning since they were on the edge of normal space. A trio of Archer ships tracked slowly toward them. I think we were supposed to run straight into their arms, Tennal added. They sent the clip that triggered your compulsion.

Can we escape?

Tennal formed Surit’s hand muscles into a thumbs-up. We should be able to jump back into chaotic space without much trouble. Surit looked down, and Tennal dropped the thumbs-up. Sorry. Want to come to the bridge and see?

No. Surit gave him the vague impression that he had to work on something to do with the ship. He could tell Tennal was wary of the way Surit was hiding his thoughts, fearful of what the merge was making them, but more concretely fearful of what would happen if they separated. And he still trusted Surit, even after what Surit had done to him. That hurt.

All right, Tennal said. I’ll leave you to it.

Surit didn’t get to work. Instead he let a screen hang in front of him, blank, and turned his gaze inward. Tennal trusted Surit to know the right thing to do, even if Tennal didn’t know what it was. Surit had never been trusted like that before. It was humbling. Surit felt like he was piloting a tiny boat in the middle of the vast ocean, under an endless, eternal sky, and everywhere he looked, the sea echoed the stars’ light.