They marched right past. Naecia pushed herself out – fast – slid to a knee and swung the pipe as hard as the suit would swing it. It clipped Aptat’s heels, flipping them over, while their melee limb went live, firing twenty, thirty, stings that glanced harmlessly from Naecia’s armor. She ran over and hammered down with the thick pipe, collapsing the stringhunter flat to the floor, and beating them until the weapon finally crimped. Then she was sprinting off as Aptat pushed up from the ground. She slid behind a cargo skiff and tried to get a clear picture of what was happening.

Aptat was upright again. “Hold please,” they said through the com. Then there came a noise. Repetitive. Like some sort of... music?

Bum buda-buda bum-bum, bada bum-bum, bada bum-bum.

Bam.

Bum buda-buda bum-bum, bada bum-bum, bada bum-bum.

Bam.

“What is that?” Naecia yelled over the noise.

“What is that?” exclaimed Aptat in a tone of great offense. “Just a little ditty by Michael Jackson entitled ‘Smooth Criminal’ from his chart-topping 1987 album, Bad. It went double platinum, Naecia. People’s Choice award for Favorite Music Video in 1989.”

“I don’t know what any of that means! Turn it off!”

“Prepare to be cultured!” exclaimed Aptat while going en pointe and doing a twirl. Then the melee limb swung to life again, peppering sting all about as the soundtrack played.

Naecia burst upright and ran, sliding behind a huge pile of rations boxes.

Aptat sashayed headlong to the beat. “You made a mistake, love.”

“Oh yeah?” she snarled defiantly. Had she? Probably.

Aptat stood perfectly straight, and executed some quick, Jacksonesque head twitches. “See, I’m sure you’ve already surmised that I killed the last person to wear that suit. While they were in it.”

“Looked to me like an ambush,” Naecia said, trying to get control of her breathing. She jumped up from behind the pile, pointed a finger. Fire.

The melee limbs on both suits angled and fired, dozens of rounds per cyclisec, that went bouncing off the carapace armor. Naecia closed her fist to stop the volley.

Aptat halted a beat later. “Don’t you recognize a stalemate when you’re part of one?”

“It’s not a stalemate just because one side can’t win,” she said. “That’s you, by the way.”

Aptat gave an easy shrug. “Pretty confident.”

“You can’t operate the Switch Drive without me.”

“You can’t escape the Scythin without the Switch Drive.”

“But I don’t need you once I’ve got it,” she said. “You need me.”

“I’d love to have you along, if not just to make things easy for myself,” Aptat said. “But I will kill you if need be.”

“You want me along because you have doubts about whether or not you will be able to commune with the Fray in order to operate the drive.”

“Preposterous.”