Chapter 9 · Root Access, Gone

The red light hits my wrist jack first. Then the air starts screaming out of the bay.

I don't get a warning. No polite ship voice asking me to step into a lock. Just the emergency klaxons and the vents reversing and my ears popping hard enough to make my vision blur.

"Hostile entity detected," the hull announces. Cold. Flat. Not talking to me. Talking about me.

Ivo's yelling something but the wind's too loud. The other Sable—the one with my face and the four-hundred-year-old contract—she's standing by her casket looking calm. Like she expected this.

Briar's got her gun up but she's not aiming at either of us. She's staring at the pressure gauge on the bulkhead and her jaw's tight.

"Vey!" Briar shouts into her comm. "Kill the purge!"

Nothing.

I'm already moving for the pressure door but my legs are still cold, still wrong, and I go down hard on one knee. The deck plates are vibrating. That's not wind. That's the mag-locks on the main hatch starting to cycle.

They're going to space me.

"Briar—" I start, but she's already crossing the bay in four long strides.