“Good,” I snarl. “Then listen harder.”
I turn back to Lia.
“If you go deeper,” I say, “you do so with limits.”
Her brow furrows. “Limits it might not accept.”
“Limits I will enforce.”
A flicker of something crosses her face, relief tangled with fear.
“You can’t fight a ship.”
“No,” I agree. “But I can break its assumptions.”
The light along the floor pulses once, then steadies. The basin remains contained, but the seams around it brighten faintly, as if tracking the exchange.
Tomas clears his throat. “Just—just checking—this isn’t the part where you two argue and something explodes, right?”
Neither of us answers him, but Travnyk does.
“If it were,” he says mildly, “we would already be dead.”
Comforting, Travnyk. Always helpful to state the blatantly obvious. I keep my eyes locked onto Lia, trying to will her to agree. Finally Lia nods, slow and deliberate.
“Okay,” she says. “If I move forward, I don’t compensate blindly. I don’t absorb excess without understanding where it’s going.”
“And if it resists?” I ask.
She meets my eyes. “Then I stop.”
“And if stopping causes a surge?”
“Then we redirect,” she says quietly.
I glance at Travnyk.
“That is possible,” he confirms. “But it would require rerouting output away from the planetary interface.”
“Into what?” Tomas asks weakly.
Travnyk’s gaze lifts toward the deeper corridors.
“Into containment structures? Outer space? Something. I do not know what is on the ship.”
The ship hums, just once, which does not feel like a denial, more of an acknowledgment.
“It has places it sealed for a reason,” Lia exhales shakily.
“Yes,” Travnyk says. “Because they are dangerous.”
Good. Danger I understand. I place my hand on Lia’s shoulder, firm and grounding.
“Then that is where we go.”
Her eyes widen. “Rakkh?—”
“I am not asking,” I say. “I am stating terms.”
