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“Spensa is hotheaded,” Jorgen said. “Passionate. But as I said, something more is going on here than we can see. I promise you, she didn’t abandon us.”

The others didn’t believe him. Why would they? She’d run off and attacked the mining station on her own, against his orders. He’d reluctantly been forced to admit that truth, as rumors had started tospread. They saw Spensa as a complete wildcard. The kitsen thought that, like some ancient deity, she might save them. The UrDail saw her as a rogue cytonic who might destroy everything.

But Jorgen…He didn’t know for certain what he thought. When M-Bot had spoken mind-to-mind earlier today, saying that he thought Spensa was at the Evensong station…well, they’d been ready with their battle plan anyway.

She didn’t go to them,Jorgen thought forcibly.That note we found didn’t sound like her. She promised me. She met my eyes and she promised me.

Maybe he was telling himself what he wanted to believe, but until he heard it from Spensa herself, he was determined to trust her.

“Thirty minutes until engagement,” one of the aides said. It took time to maneuver in space battles without hyperjumps. In the hologram, theDefiantinched toward the enemy ships. It would launch its own fighters when it got closer, each carrying an inhibitor to prevent the enemy from hyperjumping too close. With both the enemyandhis team using inhibitors, it would turn into a mostly conventional battle.

“All right,” Jorgen said, hands flat on the counter around the hologram. “We ready for our Hail Mary?”

“I do not know this term,” Itchika said. “But the Masked Exile is here. Watching.”

Jorgen paused, looking around until he saw the strange kitsen hover out from the shadows, wearing his white-and-red mask. This kitsen always unnerved him. When the creature spoke, there was poetry and music to his words, which always seemed…well, creepy. What to think of a killer who wore a mask and kept to the shadows?

“We have a set of long-range, ultra-speed missiles ready to fire,” Rig said. “With one set to ‘malfunction’ and go off target. Controls inside will let it be steered, replacing the detonator and explosives.It’s the best we could do on short notice, but it will be fast. Fast enough that we had to put in six different GravCaps.”

“I will go, then,” the masked kitsen said. “An arrow hidden among the clouds. One small ship. They will not notice.” He stood on his platform and bowed. “Spensa saved me from a terrible fate of isolation and loss of self. I will recover her or I will die in the attempt.” He put his hand on his sword.

Jorgen wasn’t certain what a little kitsen sword could do against modern battle troops. But…well, he’d been threatened by one of these creatures before, and they could be far more intimidating than their size would suggest.

“Good luck,” Jorgen said.

The Masked Exile bowed, then drew back into the shadows.

“Sir?” called one of the junior admirals. “The enemy wants to talk to you.”

Itchika nodded to him. She’d warned that in a fight like this, there would often be a conversation between commanders before battle commenced. He found that strange, as the Krell had always tried to destroy his people in silence, with no offer of parley. But he supposed that his forces were harder to ignore now.

“Let’s see what Winzik wants,” he said, turning to the wall screen. “I’ll talk to him. Itchika, you run our tactics.”

“Agreed,” she said. The kitsen had a lot more practical experience with large-scale battles than Jorgen did. He thought that Cobb would be a good resource too; Jorgen’s own tactical abilities were focused on small group fights. He was perfectly happy to let the kitsen head up the coalition’s strategy.

Jorgen himself…well, he was here to make the difficult decisions and to talk. He composed himself, then nodded. The screen winked on.

But it wasn’t Winzik who confronted him.

33

As Jorgen appeared on the holoscreen, my heart leaped, and I wanted so badly to hyperjump to him.

It was incredibly frustrating to stand there, ghostly, and have towatchas the ships slowly moved into position to start killing one another.

We can escape this pain,Chet thought to me.

We decided otherwise,I sent to him.That’s why we returned to the somewhere. I made this decision. So did you.

I…he sent to me.I’m too weak, Spensa. Far too weak. I can’t handle this. I can’t watch it.

By being part of me, he’d taken on some of my memories. My time with my friends, my love of them and my family. Scud, I hadn’t anticipated what that might do to him—a creature who had abandoned all attachments, now suddenly thrust into a universe full of them.

The air started to warp around me. The cytonic me, not the physical one. But I was drugged—and that warping…that worked? Why now?

It wasn’t centered on me though. It was centered on my double image, the delver that stood beside me.

Because of the pain,I realized. Suddenly, some things started to make sense. Specifically, I understood the warping had happened every time I thought my friends were in danger.