Eris sighed and leaned over to open one of the pilot’s eyelids. The pupil of those beautiful blues contracted. They weren’t pulsing, so at least the hormone blocker Rhea injected him with was still working. Eris’s instincts still said to kill him. Lessen the risks. Turn him into one more casualty of the Tholosian empire. Another broken promise to Kyla and Sher for the greater picture. But those instincts had been honed in the academy on Myndalia. The training grounds of Macella. The battlefields across the galaxy. This fevered, injured pilot had tried to break through the programming. It had been the barest glimmer, but Eris had seen it. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t.

“I say we listen to Rhea and give him a chance.”

Clo raised her eyebrows in surprise. Despite everything they’d been through, did she think Eris was still the person who killed first and asked forgiveness after?

Eris’s fingernails dug into her palm. “Don’t give me that look. You judged me for all the people I’ve killed, so don’t be shocked I’m having some second thoughts.”

Clo held up her hands. “I said bog all.”

Nyx exhaled loudly through her nose. “Fine. He gets a shot. But first sign of trouble, we shove him out the airlock. Deal?”

Eris gave a short nod. “Give me a hand with him. We’ll take him to the med center and take out his implant.”

“I did that already,” Rhea said. “Don’t take me for an amateur.”

Eris peered at the base of his skull. Sure enough, there was a tidy bandage, barely bloodstained.

“His programming is in too deep for removing it to make much of a difference, but it might give him a start. And make it harder for the Oracle to track us,” Eris said. “How’d you learn to do this?”

“She was there when a surgical bot took out mine,” Nyx said, shortly. “We taking him to the med bay or not?”

Eris put up her hands. “Fine. We’ll get him patched and cleaned up.” She raised half of the chair the pilot was tied to, and Nyx reluctantly took the other. They carried him off to one of the brigs. He was ridiculously heavy.

“Gods, he really stinks,” Nyx muttered.

“Make sure Rhea doesn’t feed him all my favorite foods!” Ariadne called after them.

—

After everyone had cleaned up and rested, the women met back at the bridge.

The pilot was still in the medical center on the deck below them, passed out but recovering. Eris had checked on him to see that Rhea had given him a tincture to bring down his fever and even bathed and shaved his face. Beneath the grime, he still looked ill, but Ariadne had been right. He wasn’t ugly.

“Clo, Ariadne,” Eris said. “Update me.”