On her chest, I see the Wraith.

“The mechanics,” she says. “In your cell door. They must have failed.”

I shake my head and smile. “You’re scared,” I tell her. “You should be.”

She springs forward, jack-in-the-box fast, and her sticks whip through the air in a blur of flashing strikes. I fall into a defensive position. My hands vibrate with every blow she lands. I get a nick on my cheek. A crack on my ribs.

I leap backward and she flies at me, catching me flat-footed.

I feint left and her sticks whip in that direction, following me.

I spring right, out the way. Too late. An edge snags me. I feel the burn. A cut to my arm, slicing my mustard hoodie open. Not deep, but I feel the blood flow.

She comes at me again, eyes on fire.

She swings and I dive right and leap through the air.

She misses.

The ship lurches. It’s diving hard now. The floor is at a thirty-degree angle.

“Do that again!” I shout at her, panting hard. “Come on!”

She paces. The tip of one of her fighting sticks drags on the floor, but not from fatigue, rather to lure me into an attack. A ploy. I steady myself. I hold the sword in both hands, tip to the roof, waiting.

“You should know,” she says, “I have never lost a fight.”

“There’s always a first,” I say, and we fly at each other.

Our weapons clang and ricochet and we exchange blows, then leap away and pace. She twirls her sticks, like a drummer in full flow. I keep my sword steady, controlled. Again we engage. We pull away. We pace.

I feel strong, like a newly oiled machine.

No longer afraid. No longer a Noob.

Entangle. Detangle. The Wraith jumps on her neck.

Now we back up into the corridor, leading into the hold space.

I walk backward. She follows me.

She strikes, her sticks lightning fast. They cut the air.

I evade the onslaught and then turn and run down the sloping corridor to regroup, get some space. She hurtles after me. I break out of the corridor, back into the hold and wait for her, breathing hard. She follows, leaning against the pitch of the ship.

Between us lies a body.

My heart clenches. My hands cramp.

Vidhan.

Mara’s eyes flick to it and back to me. A shadow of something in her expression. Pain?

“His death,” she says. “It was unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate?” I spit back at her.

“What could I do?” Mara says. “His loyalty to the Collective, and Malik, was ironclad. He would never join us. But you…” Her voice hitches. “Come with me, Ana, beyond the Gateway. I promise you, we can live a life beyond imagining.”

I step sideways, watching her, sweat rolling down my back. “I don’t think you understand. There is no you and me.”