But he could still make out the woman in front of him, huddled back against the doors, her face screwed up in a mask of fear. He hated that. Hated that anybody could look at him that way . . . But of course she did. Of course he deserved that look. He was only trying to help, but sometimes helping looked like something else entirely. Like violence. No. He was not violent, could never be violent.

And then there was JAX. This was impossible. More impossible was time, and the decision bearing down on him like a ship at speed. They needed her VIT credentials. Above all, they needed her VIT, and that was at all bloody costs. They needed to get back to Mother. Mother came first. So he closed his eyes, just for a tiny respite, just to see if he could escape the throbbing in his skull and heart for a second, and then he spoke, trembling.

“Do it, lift the code. Reset.”

It was a quiet order, and he didn’t give it lightly. The thought of Piero on the loose again . . . He shuddered, listening to the Brigantine snap to life, engines cycling, lights attempting to turn on but only managing a flicker, and of course, the most important part, the air lock functions resetting.

“No!”

He hadn’t heard a wail like that since Iwasa found Sverdal’s body. It stilled the blood in his veins and he clenched his fists, watching as the woman slipped her fingers between the Servitor’s hand on her arm and the slick material of her suit, prying his metal fingers off and spinning, sending JAX skidding toward the cockpit. She hurled her body against the air lock doors. He could see over her shoulder through the small, circular window in the door—the tunnel uncoupled, whipping free and then floating in the nothingness of space.

And with it, the pilot. All of his anger with her for lying vanished. It was only natural to try to escape, it was only natural for her crewmate to lend assistance—

No, child, you were foolish. Reckless. Once this new one relinquishes her VIT data she will join them, but she is not like Mother’s original children. You must control yourself, darling. No more silly schemes. No more syringes. Think of your family. Think of your mother.

He felt for her. But he stayed at a distance, numb with guilt as the interloper in his head went quiet again and he was left to his own thoughts. That was almost worse. Rayan could feel remorse, but the thing in his head? He didn’t know what it felt beyond determination. Endless hunger. Constant need.

Mother needs you. Mother needs this. Mother needs that.