“Unacceptable,” the ship said before Milly could answer. As it spoke, the drones shot Turo; two neat holes appeared in his forehead, the edges smoking slightly.

Atlanta gagged at the smell of the burned flesh.

The body began to sink as the ship recycled its component materials.

“Wha-what-wha?” Milly gasped as the floor’s flesh crept over Turo’s face, obscuring it.

The ship said, “When are the others arriving?”

Before Milly could say anything, Atlanta said, “We’re going to need your help in order to retrieve them.”

Milly’s attention snapped to her. “What are you saying?”

“Thing,” Atlanta said. “Are there any circumstances under which you would leave the others behind while they were still alive?” Although her voice was directed toward the ceiling, she looked at Milly as she spoke.

“No,” the Thing replied without hesitation.

Milly rolled her eyes. “Fuck,” she said. She sighed. “All right.”

She glanced up at the drones. The ship recalled them.

Atlanta’s eyes widened as she watched the drones fly directly into the fleshy wall and the way the flesh surged to envelop it. “Sometimes, Thing,” she said, “there are times when you need to prepare us to see something. That was one.”

“Can you define the parameters of such occasions?”

“I’ll get back to you on that, but anything involving ingestion or digestion of people might be a starter.” She turned to Milly. “I know this wasn’t your plan,” she said. “But the fact of the matter is, it’s apparent that we’re not going to be able to leave without the others. That means we need to figure out a way to get them here.”

Milly pointed at the floor. “I think the ship shot your best chance.”

Atlanta thought. “What would Captain Niko do?”

“First off, she’d make some smart-ass remark, you can be sure of that,” Milly groused. “Be realistic, girl.”

“We can get captured and go back to that cell,” Atlanta said. “Or we can try something else. We’re ahead of where we were an hour ago.”

“True,” Milly said grudgingly. She looked around at the control room. “All right, let’s figure out what we’ve got.”

Back in the cell room, the absence of both Milly and Atlanta, not to mention Thorn, had left the rest of them subdued. Conversation was muted as they tried to figure out exactly what Milly’s angle could be.

Niko found it interesting that no one, not even Skidoo, posited benign intentions on the part of the pastry chef. No one believed she’d gone off to enact a plan that would benefit anyone but herself, and saving Atlanta, they all agreed, had been because Milly believed there would be a substantial reward. And there might be, after all. Imperial Heirs were an investment, and people—let alone governments—paid well sometimes in order not to lose their investment.

Lassite sat silent. Milly would be back soon.