Several times, as she ran, Juliet paused and peered with her other vision, keeping track of the strange, “wrong” mind as she drew ever closer. Each time, she pointed, and Angel refined her destination. By the time her countdown timer reached nine minutes, Angel pinned down the target location. It was a small cargo or shuttle bay situated two decks below the bridge. The ship schematics Angel had taken from the network called it an “executive shuttle bay.”

“That makes sense, I guess,” Juliet huffed as she waited for a lift. She hadn’t encountered any crew as she charged down the last few corridors, and with the red lights flashing, the klaxons sounding, and the repeated warnings about “catastrophic errors in fusion reactor A,” she wasn’t surprised. People were bailing, and she knew Angel and Athena thought she should be too.

“At the very least,” Angel said, “promise you’ll run here”—she highlighted a small airlock about fifty meters from her destination—“when the timer says two minutes. There’s a rack of EVA suits with maneuvering jets there. With the ship’s inertia and the suit’s propulsion, you should—hopefully—be able to get clear of the blast before the reactor finally gives way.”

“We don’t know if it’ll blow when this timer reaches zero. It’s just what Athena thought would be a safe estimate. You know there’s got to be some wiggle room.” She subvocalized because she had no doubt Athena was watching and listening to her through the many cameras lining the ship’s corridors.

“So, are you going by your gut? Do you think your gut is accurate when it comes to predicting reactor meltdowns?”

“No. Obviously! I’m just saying . . . I’m just saying I need to see what’s in there, and I hope we have time.” The lift arrived, and Juliet hurried in. Eleven seconds later, she was on the correct deck and only thirty meters from the shuttle bay and whatever awaited her. “No cameras, huh?”

“No. Coverage ends at this lift. Perhaps they didn’t want people seeing who was brought aboard via the executive shuttle.”

Juliet progressed, peering down the long plasteel corridor lined with sound-dampening panels. They were installed to reduce the echo and clamor of boots and machinery and were a clear sign of a corporate-sponsored venture versus a budget operation like the Kowashi. As she steadily approached the end of the corridor and the object of her hunt, she worked to regulate her breathing. She wanted to be right. She wanted to have a reason for being there, ignoring the urging of Angel and Athena to get off the ship. She needed to know what was in there, who it was, and why she felt she had to confront them.

Another part of her wanted to turn and run. Hadn’t she done enough? Hadn’t she foiled WBD's plans and given them plenty to worry about so that she could live her life without worrying about them stalking her? When she reached the closed bulkhead labeled “EXECUTIVE SHUTTLE BAY,” she paused and once again let her mind’s eye peer outward. Just as before, the “broken” mind was there, stationary and very close. Juliet counted eleven other “normal” minds nearby, but they were moving, doing things. She gently tugged the threads from one of them, pulling them out to her, and listened.

War? Yeah. It’s got to be. We’re doing this. Secure the package. Keep the principal safe. Reach the fallback. We’ve got this. Let the freak play his games. You focus on your business.

The masculine voice reminded her of Houston when he used to psyche himself up before deployment. She could picture him sitting in his drop seat on the fluttercraft, repeating his mission parameters over and over, reminding himself to focus on his objectives. Juliet pulled back to herself, opened her eyes, and looked at the countdown: four minutes and sixteen seconds. With a deep breath, she reached for the door panel. She had to see what was in there.

Angel didn’t have access to the door—it was part of the air-gapped shuttle bay. It didn’t matter, though, because it wasn’t locked. With her fingertips lightly tapping the grip of the Texan, Juliet watched the large doors woosh open, and then she stepped through. The bay was small by capital ship standards, but it was still big enough to hold a sleek, high-end passenger shuttle. The angular, matte-black vessel sat on three struts, with oversized drive-cones pointing directly at Juliet. She could tell the shuttle was spooling up; steam and heatwaves drifted up from the cones, and the hum of the reactor vibrated the air.

A loading ramp hung down from the shuttle’s belly, and ten meters from the base of that ramp stood a tall, lanky man dressed in corpo-sec augmented battle armor. She could tell it was augmented because of the actuator struts around the joints and the bulky armor plates on the torso and thighs, which hid and protected the batts. It had a decisively aggressive, “do not mess with me” design. The armored figure’s mirrored visor regarded her as Juliet’s gaze drifted further into the bay, to the shuttle ramp, where a tall, elegant woman stood, surrounded by half a dozen other corpo-sec officers.

“You’ve got two minutes, sugar,” the woman said, and Juliet immediately knew she was looking at the mysterious Mrs. Gentry. She took a step forward, her gun hand veritably vibrating with the need to shoot, but Gentry was smart; in the time it took Juliet to register her voice, the squad of security personnel closed in, blocking her from sight. As Juliet hesitated, contemplating an all-out assault, the escorts and Gentry stepped into the shuttle, leaving Juliet alone with the armored figure. A nausea-inducing, dizzying flip of her stomach told her who he was.

“Jensen.”

“Walker,” he replied, his voice augmented by the helmet. It sounded harsh and wrong, and Juliet hated it.

“What are you doing?” She pointed to the shuttle. “Do you know who that is? Do you know who you’re working for? What they’ve done?”

“Do you?” Jensen took another step toward her, and he touched his helmet so his visor slid out and up, exposing his face. “Your name’s Juliet, right?”

“Screw you, Tristan. Just get out of my way so I can end this.”

“Calm down and listen to me. Why do you want to kill Gentry? Seriously, ask yourself why. Do you understand what’s on this shuttle? Juliet, there’s a—well, a god on this shuttle. Don’t you see? We’re talking about the future of the human race. Aren’t you tired of all the fighting? The wars? The poverty? Do you think it’s fair how billions live and die in squalor, never tasting a hint of the freedom and luxury you’ve experienced in your success? He can solve it all! He’s solving it! Come with us, Juliet. Help us!”

Something about the inflection of his words was off. He didn’t sound like he had when they’d been close. No—he didn’t sound like he had when he’d found her in her cell on the ship. Jensen was a quiet, “get things done” kind of guy—this pitch, this framing of Apollyon as some kind of messiah wasn’t right for him. Juliet took a few more steps, putting herself just five meters from him. Could she draw, shoot, and hit him in the face before that visor fell into place? Was she really thinking of doing that? To Jensen? “Go where? Help with what? A new world run by a corporation? You think that’ll solve anything? Look at everything WBD has done here and tell me they’ll be any different wherever that AI is taking you.”

“There won’t be a WBD, there, Juliet! Gentry’s abandoning the corporation. She used their coffers to build and stock the ships. She used their resources for personnel, but once we get there, she and Apollyon will build a new society. A better one! A place of equals, all striving for common goals. Of course, they’re upset about what you’ve done here, but they’re willing to give you another chance. You could play a big part in things! Don’t you want to see what people are capable of without corporations ruling over them? Without greedy politicians lying and stealing? Aren’t you tired of being manipulated? Aren’t you tired of the constant manufactured strife?”Stolen story; please report.

“Juliet—” Angel started to say, but Juliet spoke over her.

“Jensen, you really believe this AI and that woman will give up their control? You believe people who could work with beings like Montclair and Chen and—”

“He’s not an AI!” Jensen yelled, spittle flecking his lips. “There’s nothing artificial about him! He was born to bring peace, Juliet! His every reason for existing is to bring an end to wars and conflict. They’re working on an evolution! Humanity has been stagnant thanks to our stupid factions and infighting. In a new environment, without any threat of outside interference, where we can work toward peaceful goals together, real changes can begin. Can’t you see it? I thought you were a dreamer, Juliet. Even when I thought your name was Lucky.”

He stepped toward her, the armor whirring. Juliet glanced at her countdown—two minutes and change. She stepped back. “Is that you, Jensen, or did they stick one of those chips in your head?” As she spoke, Juliet reached out, grasping at the threads of thoughts that should be there, only to come up against an empty void. She didn’t need him to answer; she could feel it—he was like Chen. Like Montclair.

Jensen took another step toward her. “It’s me, Lucky. Come on! Come with us. See for yourself. Hell, I bet Gentry will be so grateful for your help that she’d let you—” The thunder of the Texan interrupted him as Juliet drew and fired. She didn’t aim at him, though, just a warning shot up to the high plasteel ceiling.

“Stop trying to get close enough to grab me, Tristan,” she growled, emphasizing the name he’d used when they’d been intimate. She shook her head at the thought, and something stung her eyes. “What happened? They found out you knew me? They put the chip in your head to control you when one of their listeners realized you wanted to help me? I bet that’s it—"

“So, you won’t join us? We held this shuttle for you, you know. Apollyon knew you’d be coming. He said he could feel it. Tell me, do you think humanity’s doing things right? Haven’t you seen the suffering? Haven’t you—”

“Stop! Dammit! I’m not here to be brainwashed. I’m here to stop that madwoman and the AI that brainwashed her. How long has she been working with Apollyon? Jensen, I don’t want to kill you. Please. Just back off.” Juliet started to circle to the side, her mind racing for a solution to the ticking countdown on her AUI. If she got into a fight with him, he was fast enough to drag it out. Worse, wearing that armor, he might just be able to overpower and subdue her. With that thought in mind, Juliet holstered the Texan and ripped her monoblade from its scabbard.

Jensen matched her sideways step, keeping himself between her and the shuttle. Just then, as though Apollyon and Gentry were watching and had seen his failure to recruit her, the two overlarge, conical drives emitted rapid clicks and then burst out hot, blue cones of fire. The drives were just idling, and the two of them were twenty meters away, but the heat was palpable. “They’re not going to wait.” Jensen eyed her monoblade’s flickering red blade warily. “She wants you to come, Juliet, but I can’t let you board armed with that thing.”

“And I don’t want to kill you. How about you step aside and let nature take its course.”

Jensen growled, then reached behind himself with his right hand. From the small of his back, with a zwapping sputter of hot sparks, he drew a ten-inch plasma blade. “You’re not fast enough! Dammit, just drop the fucking sword and come with me. See their plans for yourself. Shit, I’ll promise you this: If you want to leave, I’ll make sure they drop you somewhere safe before we jump.” His desperation was almost believable, but again, something was off. The cadence of his words was wrong; the inflections were just on the far side of natural. His eyes twitched toward the shuttle. He wanted to hurry.

Juliet felt nothing but sadness for the man, for the person she’d grown to care about on Luna. “I’ll go with you, Jensen, on one condition: Look into my eyes and tell me that Gentry’s not leaving behind any surprises, that she’s not going to try to start up a war or destroy her competitors before they can learn all the magical tech Apollyon’s been creating for her over the years.”

“I . . .” Jensen licked his lips, his face pale in the blue-white light of his plasma knife. “Do you think she should allow competing corps to follow her? Wouldn’t you rather the people here had a chance to throw off their oppressors? Isn’t it good for the people if the corps are tearing themselves apart?”

“You asshole,” Juliet sighed. “Corps use people like us to fight their wars!” She grimaced; she hadn’t wanted to be right about Gentry and Apollyon. “Okay, here’s another deal. Take that PAI chip out. If you take it out and still want me to join you on the shuttle, I’ll do it.”

With a whine, the shuttle’s ramp started lifting off the decking, and Jensen growled in frustration. “Okay, Juliet. Have it your way. Stay here and die. Die now in this ship, or die of old age in a hundred years. It doesn’t matter.” His visor snicked closed, and then he turned and jogged to the shuttle, his boots thudding heavily as Juliet watched. Part of her wanted to chase him, leap aboard the shuttle, and try to fight him then and there, try to rip that chip out of his skull. A more thoughtful part of herself sheathed her sword. With him in powered armor and wielding a plasma blade, she had a very good chance of losing. He was too fast, and she was too tired.

Instead, she closed her eyes and watched his mind-galaxy recede, confirming that he was the one she’d seen with the “broken” mind. When had they done it? When had Apollyon or Gentry or whoever was in charge of those damn things plugged in a chip to take control of his mind? The sick, sinking feeling in her stomach told her it was when he’d promised to help her or shortly after. He was working at Gentry’s right hand—of course, they’d point a listener at him now and then.

Angel had had enough of her standing there and began to increase the font size and brightness of her countdown timer. It was down to forty seconds. The shuttle’s ramp thunked closed, the engines began to spool up in earnest, and Juliet ran for it. She followed Angel’s route to the airlock and the bulky EVA suit racks. They were big, bulky units with oversized maneuvering packs. The racks made things easy; she climbed a short ladder, stepped into one of the suits, and plugged her data cable into a port. After that, Angel handled everything—an actuated mechanical arm hooked the pack on the back, sealing Juliet in. Then, another arm lowered the bulky, dome-like helmet over her head.

By the time she started putting one on, the timer had reached zero, and Angel was running it into the negatives. When Juliet snapped the helmet over her head, she saw she was two minutes past zero. “I’m sorry, Angel! Really, I am. I know I put you in danger, too, and I didn’t even accomplish anything.”

Without a word, Angel started cycling the airlock, and Juliet picked up her gun belt, hooking it to one of the cargo clasps on her suit’s bulky exterior harness. Then, she stood before the exterior door, expecting a blast that would end her existence at any second. When it didn’t come, and the door clicked open, she braced her feet against the lip and launched herself out into space, allowing Angel to fire the suit’s maneuvering jets to help her gain some distance from the enormous vessel.

Again, she said, “I’m sorry, Angel.” In silence, she watched the timer continue to tick down; they were now seven minutes past the predicted detonation. A small view-screen on her AUI showed a vid feed from a cam in the back of her helmet, and she watched the ship grow smaller and smaller. When the timer reached minus eight minutes, and Angel still hadn’t said anything, Juliet added, “I was selfish. Something in me desperately wanted to see who was leaving the ship, who the . . .” She trailed off, unsure how to explain why she’d felt like she needed to go to that shuttle bay.

“I don’t understand, but I love you and trust you. I forgive you.”

“Are we going to live?”

“Yes. We’re far enough away from the vessel that, even if it explodes now, the suit will protect you from the radiation. There’s no atmosphere here, so the explosion itself would only be deadly in close proximity to the ship. The only real danger now lies in the debris thrown off from the blast. I’ve positioned you behind the bulky, dense drive-section of the ship. Athena and I both think the destruction of reactor A will result in a blast that will split the ship in two, sending most of the debris on perpendicular trajectories to the ship’s path. You will be relatively safe in the shadow of the ship’s rear half.”

Juliet breathed a sigh, not realizing she’d been holding her breath. “Please tell me Athena is tracking that shuttle.”

“She is. And you. She’ll be here to pick you up in—” Angel's words cut out as white light filled Juliet’s vision, and the suit’s visor darkened to compensate. “The reactor has blown.”

Juliet’s suit was still propelling her away from the WBD ship, and after five minutes of constant thrust, she knew she was cruising pretty fast. Still, the explosion was extraordinarily bright and sent out a wave of radiation strong enough to force Angel to take most of her implants offline for a few moments to reduce feedback. With her vision dark, she flew in silence. After more than a minute, her vision flickered and came back online, and Juliet found herself staring at Mars.

The red planet hung like an ochre ball of light, filling most of her view. She could see, distantly, the reflection of massive domes near the equator and the green cap near the terraforming installations at the pole. It was a small percentage of the planet, but it still amazed Juliet that there were parts of Mars where a person could stand, outside a dome, and breathe. “We’re not all bad.” She spoke softly into her helmet, finding it weird not to hear her own voice. It reminded her of when WBD had taken her, and she’d lost her senses. “And a friend,” she muttered. “I’m sorry, Barns. I wish I could say it was worth it, but I didn’t accomplish shit.”

With a soft crackle, her audio implants came back online, and Angel said, “Stop that! You accomplished a great deal. Thanks to you, Athena and I will soon have an understanding of Apollyon’s plans.”

“And Gentry. Don’t let her off the hook. Angel, I didn’t tell you, but Jensen’s mind was . . . wrong, which means Gentry’s isn’t. She’s a normal person. How old is that lady, anyway? How long has she had Apollyon? Has he been whispering in her ear, or has she been in control of him?”

“Perhaps both. Perhaps they’ve been partners all along. Juliet, the local sats have recovered from the destruction of the Horizon Prophet, and Athena has contacted me. She’s nineteen minutes out.”

“Horizon Prophet? Are you kidding me? What a pretentious—” Juliet let her words die on her tongue as her rear camera feed came back online, showing the continuing destruction of the ship. It was distant now, tiny, but she zoomed the camera in with a thought. Just as Angel had predicted, the ship had split into two enormous pieces, with a million smaller bits of wreckage spiraling away on trails of rapidly dispersing smoke and gas—a starburst of debris that spanned hundreds of kilometers.

“Are you sad? About Walker?”

“I’m sad about everything, Angel. I don’t know what would happen to him if I pulled that PAI chip, but I’d like to try. I’d like to stop Gentry and Apollyon, too.”

“Well, rest for now, Juliet. Athena will be here soon, and she may have an update on the encrypted data we acquired from the Prophet. In the meantime, I believe I can connect to the Cherry Blossom. Should we try to call Aya?” Juliet didn’t have to say yes; Angel could feel her excitement at the prospect. So, as she drifted through the void of space, with Mars unfolding beneath her, she waited as Angel connected her to her friend.