Whatever that can opener had done—whatever malware it had implanted—sizzled at the back of his teeth. He curled his hand into the cloth above his chest, his fingernails embedding into his skin there. His legs gave out from under him and he fell to his knees.

You were hers, the Solani had said.

And now he was dead.

The Solani was dead and he did not care. He did not care. He did c—

His chest burned even though he did not have lungs. He opened his mouth to try to breathe, knowing he could not, that he did not, but still it felt suffocating. His vocal box gave a staticky, gasping sound. Wheezing. As he clutched his hand to his chest and tried—to—

—Could not—

Breathe.

He knew the feeling, somehow. He knew it intimately well.

It felt like dying.

Or perhaps crying.

Both.

What had that can opener done to him?

Why was he calling the bot a can opener?

He curled his hand around the Valerio pendant clasped onto his cloak and gritted his teeth. The stitches on his cheek sizzled with electricity, crackling against his skin—and broke apart, revealing shining steel underneath, like a vein of ore through the earth—

—And realized, with a sharp crackle of fear, that for a moment he could not hear the HIVE’s song.

But then the melody returned, and it washed away his anguish and pain, and the Solani was dead.

And he did not care.

Robb

The moment both Elara’s and Robb’s skysailers landed in the Dossier’s cargo bay, the ship fired its solar thrusters and left. Robb barely gave the hull time to repressurize before he forced open the windshield. Lenda was in the gunnery beneath the stairs, fending off the schooners as the Dossier dipped and rolled, trying to get away from them.

Viera vaulted out of the skysailer, securing the ship with large steel cords, and went to the other skysailer to help Xu.

“Talle!” Robb shouted frantically. “Talle!”

Jax lay in the backseat, his eyes half open and his lips blue, and Ana had a fast and firm grip on his coat even though he wouldn’t float away. Frost clung to his undone hair and iced over the buttons of his coat. He looked paler than death, his breath coming in short, staccato gasps.

“Where’s Talle?” he cried.

Siege said through the intercom, her voice echoing over the booming sound of firefight and the whine of the thrusters outside, “She can’t come down there.”

“But—” He swallowed his words and pursed his lips together. Okay. Okay. He was not going to let Jax die on his watch. Not if he could help it. He tucked his hands under Jax’s arms and said to Ana, “Help me get him to the medical ward—but just don’t touch his skin.”

Ana gave him a baffled look. “He’s dying, Robb—”

“Please.”

“Fine.” She helped lift him out of the backseat, across the cargo bay, and into the medical ward. They lifted him onto a gurney, and he pressed his thumb over the outside of Jax’s coat, into the corner of his elbow. He still had a pulse, but it was faint.