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“Ignore him. He really is sorry for being Punchy-McPunch Face, even though he punched nothing. Now, whatever you are, let’s set boundaries, or this friendship ends here with me blasting you with irradiated ions. You don’t touch anything without an invitation. We clear?”

The cold spot pulsed once. The lights in the nearest alcove flickered in a pattern that looked almost playful.

“Was that a yes to not touching?” What the hell was I talking to? Was the ship playing with me? “Rennick, any bright ideas?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Think faster.” I jumped back as a finger poked close to my right boob. “Hey! No, we don’t do that. A handsy anomaly with boundary issues isn’t acceptable.”

Rennick growled.

“And you, stop with all the growling and punching.” I checked the scanner. The readings around the cold spot were unlike anything in the archive.

The cold spot drifted past me, bumping my elbow like a hungry cat. It hovered there, pulsing, and the hum from the channels in the floor shifted pitch, getting lower and warmer.

Two point six million. We should have charged more.

The hum from the floor channels spiked to a whine, high enough to hurt my ears, and the cold spot scattered. Every alcove in the room lit, and the floor channels ran hot, bright lines racing from alcove to alcove in a sequence.

“Rennick! What the hell is going on?” I stepped out of the way of a stream of light. “Did you make the ship angry by trying to punch it?”

The floor bucked and sent him flying toward the door. The door frame buckled, the resin changing shape and narrowing the opening as he was propelled through the closing gap, which sealed behind him.

A tall, wispy shape moved out of the nearest alcove and hovered in front of me.

I lifted the scanner. “Oh, crap!”

Chapter 8

Rennick

I hit the door with both fists. “Cass!”

The surface hardened under my hands, and the hum from the room rose through the wall, cycling and accelerating. I hit it again, but the resin didn’t crack.

“Open.” I put my forehead against the wall. “Open for me.”

The ship ignored me, just as she always did.

I backed up and drove my shoulder into the door hard enough to rattle my brain, but the door didn’t move. My ship. My name on the deed, and the Hollow Chorus had locked me out.

I tried the manual release, yanking off a panel and gripping the crank with both hands. It seized.

My handheld pinged the ship’s central system and got nothing back, a blank signal where the Chorus usually sat, like she’d unplugged on purpose.

Through the wall, the hum changed pitch, and the vibration ran through my boots. What the hell was happening in there?

I pressed my ear to the door. Cass’s voice was muffled, but she was calm. I couldn’t make out the words, but I knew that tone. It was the same one she’d used this morning when it was just her and my ship, and she was talking like it was a problem she hadn’t solved yet, not a threat she couldn’t handle.

Every instinct I had said to break the door down. But those instincts were useless against this ship, so I stood in the corridor, my hands against the door, and listened to this brilliant, beautiful woman I couldn’t reach talk her way through something I had no control over.

Footsteps echoed from the main corridor. There was a laugh, and the smell of fresh pastries and coffee, warm and sweet, drifted closer.

Monica came around the corner, a cardboard tray of coffees balanced in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. Doc carried a second bag, already chewing, crumbs on her jacket. Tambi had her tablet tucked under one arm and a giant cinnamon roll in her hand.

“Morning!” Monica grinned at me. “We brought breakfast. The bakery two streets over does these almond croissants that’ll make you cry. Where’s Cass? Figured she’d already be working since her bed was empty.”

“She’s in there.” I grimaced and didn’t move from the door. “Trapped.”