“Go home.” Surit didn’t know what that would translate to. He didn’t care. Wherever that was for them.

This time, the effort left him panting. He braced his hands on a desk. The tingling headache was starting to spread, he could feel it.

They left him alone, grappling with the damage to his head, in the security control room of the Codifier Halls.

Surit took ten long seconds to realize what a gift this was. He had the camera feeds. He forced his way past the incipient headache and urgently gestured all the screens to circle him, searching for Oma’s tall, angular silhouette.

The Codifier Halls were operating normally. Politicians in bright civilian patterns talked in their offices, walked through corridors, cast nervous glances at the Archer troops around them. Surit couldn’t even tell who was brainwashed. Surely all the senior ones were. But how many senior people did you really need to brainwash before the rest accepted that their bosses had switched sides? Even civilians had chains of command.

He couldn’t see Oma.

There were gaps in the cameras. The biggest one had to be the hall that housed the Convocation itself, where politicians met to vote. If Oma was anywhere in the Codifier Halls, it made sense that she’d be there. There were actual Archer troops stationed around the central doors, though, not just security guards. Officers. Some of them would be architects. Surit stared at them on the screens, feeling the prickling of his incipient collapse in the back of his head. He could take on a handful of unsuspecting rankers, but he couldn’t take on the world.

A call came in. Surit was about to ignore it, but the alert showed a Cavalry originator.

When he picked it up, the square, florid face of Commander Vinys stared back at him. The original commander of the Fractal Note. The one Surit had served under who had secret orders to have Surit die. Surit’s mind went blank.

He saluted out of instinct.

“Our forces surround the perimeter,” Commander Vinys said without preamble. “You will open the doors—” He apparently noticed Surit was by himself and not in uniform. The commander frowned at Surit as if a recollection was just out of reach. “Who are you?”

Surit felt another spike of that new anger. You tried to have me killed and you can’t remember who I am?

At least that got rid of any guilt Surit had for hijacking his ship. “Lieutenant Surit Yeni, sir,” he said levelly, “previously of the Fractal Note.” He had the satisfaction of seeing the commander flinch.