“How many of the space soldiers have killed a human, though?”

“Many, unfortunately,” Houston said sadly. “Twenty years after The Retreat, when our organisation was young, they revolted against the Mandate. It was before anyone knew what happened when a space soldier took a human life. The battle was quickly lost when the bulk of our force lost their minds. There hasn’t been another one since.”

Her mind was boggled by the fact there had even been a rebellion she wasn’t aware of. But of course, the memory wipe would have erased all traces of that, if she’d been alive then. “Wouldn’t Earth humans remember that?”

“Settlements are few and far between,” he reminded her. “And the Mandate controls all communication. We only see what they wish us to see.”

Houston clicked a button and peered up at the screens. Romy could just see one screen by straining her eyes upwards. You couldn’t see the five exits anymore; instead, images of two brains flickered into view.

“This is the brain of one of the soldiers aboard Orbito Four.” It was a brain full of reds, yellows, and oranges. A brain full of pain, she thought.

“And this is little skyling’s brain.” He clicked again.

Romy couldn’t see the rest of the other screen.

There was a long pause. “. . . I don’t see the difference,” Elara said.

“Exactly!” Houston rounded the bed, eyes flicking over the two pictures as though he was staring at a secret the rest of the world couldn’t see. “Then why is she still sane?”

“Get the card out, H.” Atlas settled on the foot of the bed once more.

Romy stared at him. There was so much she wanted to say.

But she settled for the words, “I’m so sorry, Atlas. I messed everything up. I . . . I should have trusted you.”

His stone eyes softened, framed by black lashes. He half-smiled at her. “I’m sorry you couldn’t. I knew you could sense there was something going on, but my hands were tied. You’re not to blame for this.”

She smiled back.

“All right,” Houston said. “Everyone stand back and brace.”

Thrym took a large step back, and the others held their arms in front of their faces. Elara gripped onto the side of her chair with one hand.

Atlas didn’t move.

Romy tensed, ready for the pain.

Houston cracked his knuckles. “In three, two. . . .”

Click.

Seconds ticked by.

And nothing happened.

“It’s done,” Atlas said gently.

“But I. . . .” She frowned. “It didn’t hurt.” For some reason she’d expected pain.

Houston was ripping the cables from her, laughing like a madman after his dramatic display.

Then Romy realised.

The ringing was gone! She closed her eyes, searching.

The glass.

It was fixed.

The cracks had disappeared. Romy sobbed, and pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. The cracks were gone. She wasn’t broken anymore.