Again, Kiem felt that lurch, as if everything were shifting around him. He took both of his hands out of the mesh and set the controls to autofly, clumsier than he should have been. “They aren’t,” he said, trying to make his voice level.

“I mean, I’ve got interests in the College, yes, but that doesn’t affect you. I didn’t want you to help out Professor Audel for my sake, and you don’t bloody need to—to make up for it or whatever you’re offering!”

Jainan drew back from him. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he said,

in a thin, blank voice that made Kiem realize he’d been raising his. “I’m sorry.”

“I—what? I don’t want anything,” Kiem said, keeping his voice down with some effort. “That’s the point.”

The flybug beeped a warning, coming up to a sharp rise that the autofly couldn’t deal with. Kiem lunged for the controls again.

“You’re angry.”

“I’m not,” Kiem said, concentrating on the steering. It was true—at least it was true he wasn’t angry at Jainan. He wasn’t entirely sure who he was angry with.

Jainan said nothing, but the quality of his silence was as good as a formally countersigned memo of disbelief.

“I’m not,” Kiem said again. “I’m—upset.” That felt accurate. “I’m upset that you’d think I’d—I’d use you like that.”

“It isn’t unreasonable,” Jainan said sharply. “I represent the junior partner in the treaty. I have caused you nothing but trouble so far. It is reasonable to expect my help.”

“No, it’s not reasonable!” Kiem said. “That’s messed up! We’re married—

even if it’s a political marriage, that doesn’t mean one of us is in charge!”

“I—of course not,” Jainan said. “No.”

Kiem raked a hand through his hair. “Expect you to do my work for me?” he said. “Where the hell did that come from? Taam?”

“No,” Jainan said, his voice suddenly harsh.

Kiem raised a hand in apology. “No, I didn’t mean that,” he said. “Sorry.

Tactless.” He tried not to let himself be hurt that it wasn’t okay to imply it of Taam, but apparently it was okay to imply it of Kiem himself. Jainan had been close to Taam; Kiem was the one he had been forced into a rushed remarriage with. It was different. It was understandable.

Jainan cast him a wary glance, “I would still like permission to withdraw from the project.”

“You don’t need my bloody per—” Kiem started to say, but was stopped by a muffled bang that shook the whole flybug.

Both of them broke off. “What was that?” Jainan said.

“No idea.” A beeping noise started to blare: an alarm Kiem didn’t recognize.

He grabbed for the steering with one hand and keyed up the display with the other. “It’s not—shit, it’s not responding.” The filaments were dead and inert around his hand. And both of them felt it at the same time—the slow curve of the flybug as it lost its forward momentum and started to point inexorably