“Rhea, it’s not for lack of trying.” Ariadne had grabbed her tablet to draw up the communication logs. “His comms were damaged when he was injured. He tried to send several messages, but they were caught by my firewalls when I de-Oracled the ship.” Ariadne opened one at random and read: “Mayday. Injured and trapped aboard Zelus. Ship successfully commandeered by insurgents. Requesting aid. He sent that one a few times, and then he called us bitches in this last one. I don’t think he’s nice.”

“Of course he’s not nice,” Clo said. “He’s brainwashed and controlled by the Oracle.”

“I think he’s pretty, though,” Ariadne said. “In a gross, unwashed sort of way.”

Nyx rolled her eyes. “You think everyone’s pretty.”

“Everyone has something pretty about them!”

While they nattered back and forth, Eris steeled herself, tilting the pilot’s head up with the tip of her finger. Before his illness, the pilot must have been strong. Muscles still bulged at the shoulders of his filthy pilot’s uniform. His features were sunken from dehydration and fever, but he still looked like so many other soldiers, except for the scarring on his neck. It only showed because the collar of his uniform was badly torn.

Eris leaned close, nose wrinkling slightly. “Interesting. He’s heavily scarred here. I wonder what caused it.”

As if at her words, the pilot groaned, head turning side to side. One eyelid, caked with gunk, cracked open as he looked at her blearily. “Am I dead?” he asked, groggy.

“You’re awake!” Ariadne chimed from behind Eris. “Hi! Your messages were rude.” She wiggled her fingers.

He shut his eyes hard. “Not dead, then. Godsdamn it.”

“Afraid so,” Eris said. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.”

“Your humor is intact, at least.” When he opened his eyes again, Eris let out a slow breath. Blue, as pale as the sky on Lethe. “I have some bad news: I think you’re going to recover, pilot.”

That blue gaze went hard, distant. “If you let that happen, I’ll kill you. First chance I get. In His name. Letum, God of Death, I kill for Thee.”

“Five against one. I don’t like your odds.”

“The worse odds, the better.” His voice was fainter, trembling.

Eris jerked back. That sounded like something she would say. Something drilled into their minds through blood and pain and training.

“If he mentions the God of Death one more time . . .” Nyx let out an irritated huff. “He’s a liability. We’ll never be able to break his programming.”

“We broke yours,” Rhea said softly.

“It was already fracturing on its own,” Nyx countered. “It took weeks, and we don’t have that kind of time.”

“We have a duty to try.” Rhea shook her head. “We can try to get more of the blockers to keep him calm.”