With one last gigantic effort, the Dowutin ripped the helm in two. The lightning ceased, releasing Pan from its grip. The Tempest Runner breathed out, his muscles shuddering one last time. Lourna moved to help him to his feet, but the hulking alien turned his head so fast she thought he was about to sink his teeth into her fingers.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I wanted to help you.”

“I doubt it was for my benefit.”

She took a step back, allowing him to rise painfully to his feet, the two halves of the smashed helmet still in his hands. Steam was rising from his parched skin, burns raw across his wide forehead and cheeks. He swayed slightly on his feet, and to her surprise, this time Zeetar moved, shooting out a mechanical pincer to grab the giant’s shoulder, stopping him from slumping to the ground.

Pan didn’t pull away, but neither did he offer thanks. He just stood there, breathing heavily, his shoulders hunched and his back arched.

Instead, it was the Talpini who spoke first, a simple question that Lourna should have guessed was coming.

“What did he mean … sacrifice?”

Pan licked his cracked lips. “What do you think?”

Zeetar looked at Lourna. She sighed. “Kassav’s death was a tactical choice.”

“On Ro’s part?”

Her silence gave him the answer.

Zeetar’s eyes searched both their faces. “But Kassav’s entire Tempest … everyone died, Lourna.”

“To protect the Storm.”

“To protect Ro.”

“And you knew?”

The Dowutin took a step toward Zeetar but this time there was no challenge, no bravado. For the first time since Zeetar had been elevated, Pan was looking at the Talpini as an equal.

“You can’t blame her.” He glanced back at Lourna. “I don’t, because it’s not about us. It’s about him. We do the work. We risk our lives and the lives of our Tempests and he reaps the rewards.”

“The entire Storm reaps the rewards,” Zeetar replied, although the words had no conviction.

“Really? You know the way it works. Yes, the spoils get spread around, but most work their way up.”

“To us,” Lourna reminded him.

“And to Ro. And for what? What does he actually do?”

“He provides the Paths.”

“Does he?”

Dropping the remains of Ro’s helmet, Pan reached into his armored jacket, pulling out a holoprojector.

“I hope this still works,” he grunted, fumbling with the controls, his fingers obviously still stiff from his ordeal.

“Let me,” Lourna said, holding out a hand.

Pan handed it over, looking her straight in the eye. “You sure you want to see?”

Lourna responded by taking the unit and activating the projectors. A holo of Udi Dis appeared, the Talortai’s face frozen mid-conversation. The Talortai’s eyes were wide, frenzied, the pupils reduced to pinpricks.

Lourna looked back up at her counterpart. “He looks …”

“As high as a kitehawk,” Pan said.

“I thought he was straightened out.”