“Well, they’re not faked!” her voice cracked. “Captain Arrohauk would have shown you on the scopes herself if you hadn’t killed her.”

“Sympathy for your captor?” said Aptat, approaching. “That’s one I’ll have to ponder.”

“At least she was hunting to kill.”

Aptat barked a laugh. “To kill who? The Stringer? His cord would only have requickened in some other unfortunate. Someone was going to find Ben – or whoever landed on the cord after him – and sell them to the Scythin. Better for me to profit now than allow the benefit to pass to another of my ilk down the line.”

Ugh, lightheaded again. Naecia wavered. “You can count all the guush you want. If the Scythin get that Chime, you’ll be just as dead as the rest of us.”

“Well, bright side: you’ll be able to stop worrying about the Chime when the Vortu turn us to dust,” said Aptat, finger-tapping to the words on Naecia’s shoulder. “Back to your chamber.”

“And when will they be doing that?” she said.

“Four cygies give or take. Sooner if they decide to fire the Child’s engines.”

Naecia stepped into her chamber and waited to be sealed and sent below.

Aptat hesitated for a moment before closing the glass. “Tell me: would you rather that I turn off your air supply or space your chamber when the Vortu arrive?”

“You’re not going to fight them?”

Aptat laughed grandly. “What fight I can manage with no ability to maneuver and limited access to the ship’s systems. I will make my best personal stand.” They clicked heels and mimed a sword twirl. “You’re the one with a choice. I’ll do it for the three of you who remain. Or, if you choose to stay in your chambers, alive and well for your kidnappers when they arrive, I suppose that’s an option as well.”

Naecia turned a shoulder at the non-choice and the chamber descended.

Silence magnified the pounding headache. It was worse than a hangover from an after-shift party spent drinking pipe spirits back on Vask. She’d long since given up on returning home to the steam fields or to her family on Drev, but had always been able to take comfort in an imagined homecoming. Now if – when – the Earth man gave up the Chime, the entire Pangemic system and the galaxy it called home, would cease to exist anywhere.

The arrival of nausea was an unpleasant companion to the headache. Of course, she’d choke on it rather than decorate her chamber as the Earth man had. She condemned his weakness. With any luck, the trait ran deep, and the Scythin dredge would do to him what should have already been done. With any luck, it would melt his brain before he spilled.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN