Naecia really did feel like her bones had been pounded to dust, while every muscle was drawn and sore. Gravity had been restored to the ship and she managed the slow slog up to the blown valve where she closed its dedicated supply line, then slid down to the cut-off for the bank of thrusters and reopened it. Job complete, she rounded the circumference of the deck, trying her best to dodge floating orbs of Vortu ichor. By the time she reached the bulkhead at the deck junction, she was well oiled in it. Not her problem. Maybe the suit’s storage vault had a steam cleaner.

She reached the portal, drew down the lever, and with some measure of surprise, found it unlocked as Aptat had promised. Quickly she opened it and pushed through the rush of atmosphere, then closed it.

“Move along.” The voice was coming from the suit’s com again. Aptat had graciously abandoned her implant.

“On my way,” she said. Naecia stood where she was and thought. If only she could control the suit. She’d kill Aptat and take control of the ship. Retrieve her mother and Aeshua from Drev, then run as far away from the Dasma Arm as possible; maybe far enough away by the time Earth man found the Chime for the Scythin. It was a nice fantasy. There would be no escape if the Chime was recovered.

“Hang on,” said Aptat. “The Terror’s Glaive is firing up.”

“What?”

“Seems the Vortu left someone behind just in case. I’m guessing they’ve gathered that their boarding party was neutralized. Move quickly.”

Naecia took the lift down to the second deck where she rushed out. The ship lurched. Aptat was strapped in at the ship’s console. “Find somewhere to secure yourself!”

The others had retreated into their chambers. Naecia rushed into her own and braced against the glass.

The ship came around and the holographic display showed the Terror’s Glaive pouring headlong. The Silent Child was fleeing, backward. “You can’t outrun them with the fore thrusters!” Naecia exclaimed.

“Yes, Captain,” chided Aptat.

The cruiser fired and the Child took a direct hit. Naecia cried into the helmet’s com, “What are you doing?”

“Way-ting,” sang the stringhunter.

“For what?” she screamed.

Oush called out, “Those are flay guns!”

The Vortu fired again and the ship took damage. Aptat spun in their chair, back to the display. Smug expression on their face.

“What?” asked Naecia, confused.

Then the Glaive was in pieces, deader than dust. In the fraction of a moment, it went from being whole to sliced like birthday bread. The dilaceration cannon had fired its nine planar lasers, dividing the ship into ten equal parts, which now quietly followed the Silent Child.

Naecia drew the helmet latch across her neck and chinned the inner tab, opening the helmet into quarters. She met Aptat’s gaze.

“Nine cannons leave no doubt,” sighed the stringhunter.