“. . . Okay,” he conceded.

Di took ahold of Robb’s arm gently with both hands, one at the wrist and the other his elbow. He rotated his wrist and moved his elbow up and down slowly to assess the arm. “For what it is worth,” Di said slowly, “I am sorry. For what I did to you.”

Somehow, that felt like the wrong thing for Di to say. Robb thought it was what he wanted to hear, but when Di said it . . .

“It wasn’t your— Fuuuuck!” As Di’s fingers lit up with electrical sparks, his knees almost gave out from the pain. He felt Di sink into the circuits of his arm, command his hand, telling his fingers to flex and clench. The pressure building in his arm died with a pop of relief, and Di extracted himself again.

“It should not act up anymore. There was a malalignment in the central nerve connecting to your . . . Oh, never mind. Is it better?”

Hesitantly, Robb flexed his fingers and rotated his wrist. His eyebrows furrowed.

Di read his expression. “Is it . . . not better?”

“It feels like my hand,” he replied, surprising himself. Like, just like his hand. No more glitching, no more weird twitches, no more half-second lag.

“You will still have to check your strength, but—”

Robb reared back and slammed his fist into Di’s face. The Metal stumbled back a few paces and hit the ground. “There. Now I feel better.”

The android lay still on the ground. “I am . . . glad,” he replied, not sounding all that convinced.

Robb rotated his shoulder back, flexed his fingers again, and then offered his metal hand. Di hesitated for a moment, but then he took it and let himself be pulled up into a hug. “It wasn’t your fault, Di. I’m glad you have my back.”

“And you mine,” Di replied, and grabbed his towel from the floor. Then he said, “I believe Jax is staying on the waystation tonight. He wanted a room apart.”

“Oh—oh, thank you.”

The Metal gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I just thought you would want to know, if you need him.” Then he squeezed around Robb and into the crew’s quarters.

Jax

The waystation was very much deserted, and thank the Goddess for that. Siege’s fleetships were already en route to Nevaeh to begin the plan, and his mother’s ship was readying to leave as well. While the Solani could not infiltrate Nevaeh without raising suspicions, they were to wait a few klicks away with as many aid ships as possible in case things went south. In case Mellifare appeared. In case she got to her heart.

His mother’s ships were the contingency plan—if there ever was one.

One of the waystation’s robotic attendants led him to a hostel room that had been vacant for Goddess knows how long, but it was quiet and clean, and honestly that was all he cared about. He shrugged out of his evening coat, tossing it onto the modest single bed, and he sat on the edge, closed his eyes, and could finally hear himself think.