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Enormous beams of destructor fire blasted from the gathered gun platforms of Detritus, cutting through the remnants of theDefiant—piercing the very dust, debris, and burning light of its pyre.

It had been Gran-Gran’s plan. To send her fighters away. To leave herself defenseless. To limp back, knowing that the enemy would follow. That they’d be reckless in their determination to bring her down, and would ignore what the fighters were doing.

Jorgen’s shots passed through the corpse of theDefiantand slammed into the enemy fleet. Warping shields, overloading them with blast after blast. The enemy, of course, tried to hyperjump away. But per Gran-Gran’s instructions, the half of the Defiant fighters that had scattered chaotically swung back around toward the enemy. And if there was one thing that Jorgen’s forces had, it was superior fighters. They converged on the enemy capital ships, bearing kitsen cytonics and slugs. Inhibitors.

In that moment, the battle reversed. The enemy, overconfident, had sent its fighters to bring down theDefiant’s shields—and in so doing, left their fleet undefended. They’d assumed that Jorgen’s fighters were too few in number to do any damage, or bring down their own shields. They were right, but Jorgen didn’t needto worry about that. Not when he had Detritus’s gun platforms and their powerful beam weapons.

All he needed was the enemy lined up, unable to jump away.

And so, within moments of her passing, the hero Rebecca Nightshade got her revenge. The entire enemy fleet went up in blasts of light. Like stars being born.

47

I felt Gran-Gran as she died.

One final connection let me see her as she sank into her seat on the bridge. Not the same ship she’d landed on Detritus in, but somehow stillhership. The ship her people had made, the ship she’d claimed by birthright. She had arrived on theDefiant,and she would leave on it.

She’d evacuated everyone else, so she was alone as she died.

No,she sent to me.I have you.

Gran-Gran…

She was gone by the time I thought it. Gran-Gran had been inhibited and prevented from hyperjumping away. She’d stayed to pilot the ship, staring the enemy in the face. Brought down by Brade’s mad insistence that destroying this symbol of insolence would break us. Gran-Gran died a hero, yes, but she…

She was still gone.

My soul contorted. I barely noticed as Brade forced me off her. A piece of me recognized what she was doing when she leveled her pistol at me, and the air warped—not really by conscious effort on my part. My powers protected me by instinct this time—because when Brade fired, the shot went straight into the nowhere.

She cursed and tried again from another angle. Same result. When she sent in a guard to grab me, he ended up suffocating in the reaches of space halfway across the galaxy.

I barely noticed. I was watching particles of light from the hologram break apart and vanish. TheDefiant.

Gran-Gran.

I barely even registered that Detritus’s gun platforms somehow hyperjumped into the space theDefianthad been heading toward. The slugs there had let them through? The emplacements shot back.

Pain welled up inside of me, like a reactor going critical. So much emotion. So much anguish. I screamed, howling into the sky, my hands forming claws.

I…I couldn’t handle it. I’d said I could withstand the loss of friends. But this?

I couldn’t lose Gran-Gran. I…I…

It’s too much,Chet thought.It’s too much! I can’t!

All along, part of this panic was his. I’d learned some lessons about grief, but he still hadn’t. My pain at losing my grandmother was too much, when amplified by his inability to handle grief. Together our souls vibrated in a cacophony of agony, loss, panic, terror, pain—

I felt something warm wrap around me. Another mind, like comforting arms. A…a slug?

Another.

A third.

Ahundredof them.

It was the inhibitor slugs, left alone in their isolated pods in the frozen emptiness of space. They noticed my pain, and they came to me. Soon there were over a thousand of them, holding me mentally. Supporting me. Not trying to explain away my pain, but comforting me in it. Letting me know they were there.

I had to suffer. But I didn’t have to do it alone.