“So long as you don’t hit us,” Sagara murmured, passing out more guns with a resigned expression: he looked like someone who felt it was a bad idea, but who also knew he didn’t have a choice.

Jimex shook his head, slinging a large rifle over his shoulder. “No. We could never,” he said. “You are the ones who are bringing us home.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fulbreech asked.

Jimex smiled, but no one else answered him.

Sagara handed Park another gun; she shoved it into her waistband. Chanur’s gun felt warm in her hand, as if it might melt out of her grip. Under her breath she said to him, “The unity rain—”

“I know,” he said in an undertone. “I felt it. Did you—”

“The ship—I think I’m—”

Fulbreech was looking at them. “What are you two whispering about?”

The two of them broke off. Finally Park said, with heavy finality: “It doesn’t matter. Not right now. Where are Boone and Natalya?”

“We don’t know,” he answered, frowning. “I can’t imagine they would have left the bridge, but it’s soundproofed, so we have no way of knowing for sure. And there was that moment the ship—you know, the gravity flipping around. Something might have happened to them. We don’t even know if they’re alive in there.”

“Oh, they’re alive,” Sagara said grimly. “They would never make it that easy for us.” He flicked the safety off his gun and looked at them. “Be ready. In the best-case scenario, they don’t know that we’re out of the freezer yet, and we’ll take them by surprise. In the worst-case, they’ve seen us coming and are prepared. We need to move fast—so fast that they can’t react. Shoot to kill, and then we regain control of the ship as soon as possible.” He suddenly seemed to notice that Taban was standing there placidly behind Park. “Why is that thing out?”

“You can use us as a shield,” Taban said, almost cheerfully. “They’ll be scared of shooting their only bargaining chip. It will make them hesitate.”

Sagara looked faintly approving. “Smart.” Then he jerked his head at Park and Fulbreech. “Let’s go.”

Storming the bridge with the synthetics felt a little like jogging in some strange parade: they formed a kind of flank formation around the humans, each of them except Taban mimicking Sagara’s hold on his gun (though one, Conex, seemed to imitate Fulbreech’s clumsy grip instead). Park felt jostled by their solid bodies, insulated and protected—but also deeply afraid. She knew some of them were going to get hurt.