“I’m hurrying!” Walters reassured, his mic crackling as he passed into the equalized tunnel. So close. She just needed to get in range and hope that Walters was smart enough to come armed.

“Do not let those doors open!” Rayan screamed. He was not a large man, but his voice boomed through the galley.

JAX’s grip did not slacken as he attempted to block Walters’s access to the ship. She could see the flicker in his “eye” as the Servitor connected, and he answered a moment later. “Error. The Salvager 6 maintains priority access to our vessel.”

Gasping, Rayan scrambled away, toward the cockpit, his voice trailing behind him as he threw himself through the arch. “No! That’s not right!”

“Researcher Yasin,” the Servitor prompted stoically, “the Salvager 6 will retain priority access until the code blue is lifted. The Brigantine’s autonomy cannot be restored until—”

“Then lift it, lift the code!” Rayan screamed back.

Rosalyn clamped her hand over her bruised forearm, commanding herself to regain control of the situation. That started with her doing whatever she could to help Walters when—if—he got through the doors.

“Don’t lift the code,” she said, winded. “Please, JAX, I’m begging you. We came here in good faith, and right now we have command of the Brigantine. Obey your programming. Listen to me . . . Leave the code intact.”

“Just be quiet,” Rayan whispered, almost panting. Rosalyn leaned back, his breath fogging her visor. “Lift the code, JAX, do it. I’m your superior, she isn’t part of the crew. Lift it!”

The Servitor did not release her, but he seemed to regard them equally, weighing the options while Rosalyn wondered if it was possible to die from sheer panic. She slumped back against the wall, fighting the AI’s strength, inching toward the air lock doors.

At last the bot managed to make a decision or run through its programming or whatever it took, and it looked in Rayan’s direction. “Lifting the code requires a full reset of onboard ship functions.”

“I don’t care.” Rayan was sweating now, too, seething, his eyes flaring white again. Then he seemed to recall something and froze, blinking. “All functions?”

“Yes, sir, all functions. The lockdown on bays two and three will lift, sir.”

“Shit. Piero and the captain . . .” He wiped at his face, but time was running out. Behind her, Rosalyn heard Walters fumbling through the tunnel toward them. He would reach the doors in a matter of seconds.

Her heart lifted, one last gust of energy—of hope—breaking through the fear. Maybe these two would debate and hesitate just long enough for her to get the fuck off that ship. The portal to the Brigantine hissed, the galley pressurizing, one step closer to letting her unlikely savior in.

9

The burn behind his eyes was incredible. Rayan could hardly see through the pain and the fine web of blue lines that splintered across his vision.