Page 143 of Carousel

“It took you all far too long to realise that,” Drake’s voice says.

He sounds so close it makes my heart stutter. When did he creep up on us?

I turn. He’s looking out, past me, to where Riss and the other pilot are now struggling to get back into their original positions. The Rhavnan ships keep blocking them – and I realise they’re low down enough, and close enough to us, that they must be out of range of our own cannons on the hive. And, for some reason, Riss and the other pilot seem reluctant to shoot at them.

Then I understand why – at the same time that I think a lot of people in the room do.

“They’re right by the Osimidite Chamber,” I breathe.

Officers glance at each other. Meg is stiff as a rod.

Samson says, a little dumbly, “But we’d light up like a torch.”

Dezeeves doesn’t look concerned.

He says, through gritted teeth, “They won’t hit the Chamber.” As if he can command it just by thinking it.

Ephraine has also drawn closer. He stands slightly stooped, like a giant vulture, beside Drake. “What, can I ask, makes you so sure, Dezeeves?”

Dezeeves lets out a pained laugh. “The blast radius, Ephraine. Look at us. We’re surrounded. It would wipe out half a fleet of their own, too.”

“But we have the weapon,” I remind him, strangely calm for the situation. “Isn’t half a fleet a good enough price for the Queen to pay, for the freedom of her whole country?”

My own words frighten me.

Because it’s a decision I would make, too. If I had to.

“Ara is correct,” Drake states. “You are trying to defeat an opponent when you have no idea the way they play.”

His face turns dangerous. “I can assure you I know how the Queen plays. I have been her opponent for years. And to blow us up now, when we have…”

“Have what, Dezeeves?” Drake asks. Simply. But pointedly.

“When we have so many men and women on board, including her own soldiers, as our prisoners of war⁠—”

“Who are no longer loyal to her,” I remind him, nodding slightly at Drake. Because he’s absolutely right. Dezeeves is playing a game he doesn’t know how to win.

Vikemy had warned Dezeeves his complacency would get him killed.

I hadn’t thought, until now, that it would get us all killed.

“Dezeeves,” Ephraine growls. “Are you letting the prisoners – who really, shouldn’t even be here – question your authority?”

Dezeeves looks between the three of us like he’s searching for something. Grasping for it.

Then he stares down – at the obvious, and growing, gap in our defence.

Termite 5 approaches, again. Gets close to one of the ships, maybe even close enough for a shot that won’t hit the Chamber.

But rather than swerving, the ship accelerates – right at the pilot. My mouth falls ajar as the ship slams straight into the other, and they collide in the air. Become a ball of rolling fire against the night sky. Then they’re falling, and the fire seems to grow, black smoke billowing like sleeves on Rhavnan dresses.

My knuckles, gripping the table, go white.

“W-Why?” I can’t even speak.

“The pilot protected the gap,” Drake replies. “It is what we are taught on Rhavnan ships. Do not swerve. Sacrifice. The last line of defence if there is a plan being enacted.”

“That…”