Meanwhile, down in its hidden passageways, the Derloen ghosts swirled and explored. They stayed together, although every once in a while, one would dart ahead of the others and then return.

They clustered in the gardens where some of Dabry’s seeds had sprouted while others were preparing to do so, small green shoots among the racks of red-lit leaves, the hanging globes of collected water, swelling as large as melons. They curled once around a row of still unsorted but marked seeds: tomato, basil, lettuce, qanat. Eggplant.

They moved, they coiled. They were restless, as though seeking something. They spent a good bit of time in Lassite’s room, nosing at things, but eventually moved on. They swam through the folds of the great ship’s brain and left traces of themselves, though it never even knew they were there, before they gathered again in Lassite’s room and curled there as though waiting.

And the Thing continued to think.

On the next day, Tubal Last showed them more of their deaths.

They left Milly and Atlanta, the only ones who did not have the links the rest of them carried, behind in the cell. That’s how Niko knew what he intended.

“I became carried away before,” Last said dryly as they were dragged to their knees before him again. Today, as previously, his clothing and appearance were gray, but there was a gleam to him now, as though he were fattening on satisfaction, now that he was at long last able to act on the long-anticipated revenge. Petalia was nowhere to be seen.

He held a finger up in the air. Two technicians wheeled out a small table-cart, a familiar machine on it. Niko almost closed her eyes at the confirmation of her suspicions, then kept them open rather than give him the satisfaction. A mix of dread threaded through with an ugly anticipation permeated her.

It was a vertical twist of cables, the upper end capped with buttons and toggles. The lower end slotted into a stand that held it upright. The Hive Mind never cared much for aesthetics. When you had absorbed literally millions of minds, your opinions on styles were widespread and tolerant.

“It’s been a long time since you felt this,” Last crooned. “They don’t give out mesh units to retirees. I’m sure a part of you is looking forward to this.”

It was horribly true, but Niko kept her eyes open nonetheless.

He motioned to the first technician, who touched a button. A part of Niko’s mind unfolded like an origami flower, unrolling to slot in first the boxy, sensible presence that was Dabry and then, before she could even draw in a breath of appreciation for that, Gio’s mind, quick and wry, the level that let him speak in an unimpeded flow, as he did now, Well, at least we have this moment.