PARALLAX

  Parallax crouches at the edge of the ship's roof, trusting in her magnetic auxiliary Protocol to keep her feet planted against the metal hull. The ship is in the process of circling back, making a slow but steady descent. There's a big hole in the rocky ridges below, a tunnel leading straight down into the Cloister underground. It's a lucky thing the chamber itself hasn't caved in. Hopefully it hasn't, for the sake of those people in there.

  "Talk to me, P," Artifice says over the comms, interrupting Parallax's thoughts. "Give me a good reason why you and Viper are on standby. We have a ship to take."

  Parallax stands, glancing over at Viper before returning her gaze to the hole in the Cloister. "What about Silas? What about those people down there?"

  "Let Blast and the HERALD wear each other down. This is perfect for us. Gives us time to apprehend Echo and the others. There's a lot going on here, P. Something about that girl, the blondie. I can feel it. I'd like to get to the bottom of this. I don't like being kept out of the loop."

  "So we're gonna turn our backs on these people so you can satisfy your curiosity?"

  "Viper is," Artifice says. "Did you hear that, V?"

  "I'm with P on this," Viper says. "We're the Protectorate. Our first priority is to protect."

  "Perhaps," Artifice says, smoothly. "But do I need to remind you what your first priority is, per your Protocol?"

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  Viper grimaces, then blinks a couple times. She's fighting it. The programming. But of course it's futile.

  Within moments, her entire demeanor changes. She no longer looks determined, but blank, impassive.

  "I understand," Viper says, drawing her sidearm and checking the chamber to make sure it's loaded. "On my way to apprehend the rebels."

  "Just Echo and the girl," Artifice says. "Kill the redhead--he's a problem right now. Just take him out."

  "Affirmative."

  Parallax has to fight a chill as she watches Viper head toward the hole in the top of the ship and slip down through it.

  "They shouldn't be like that," Parallax says. "It's not natural."

  "Yeah, well, if soldiers would simply obey their orders, it wouldn't have to be."

  "Have you stopped to consider that maybe it's the orders, not the soldiers?"

  "I don't appreciate this new side of you. While I don't always approve of your methods, I used to be able to say your head was in the game, at least."

  "That's what it is to you, isn't it? It's just a game."

  "It's this Razor thing," Artifice goes on, ignoring her. "It's got all your wires crossed. I would have thought your BF getting mer'c might be a good wake-up call, but that doesn't appear to be the ca--"

  Parallax cuts the feed.

  She's done talking. She's already made up her mind.

  She'd been willing to side with Razor against the Protectorate to save his life. She realizes that, now. She'd been willing to choose love over duty.

  Now, the love is gone. But she can't turn back the clock. She's experienced a new shift in paradigm.

  The Protectorate is not the only thing. It is a thing. And she thinks she's just about ready to leave it behind.

  She's spent the past couple minutes patching up her wounds from the fight with Revenant. She's not at one hundred percent, not even close. Plus she's lost a big chunk of her Nanobit reserves to the healing process. But she's good enough. She can still act. She can still fight.

  And now is the time to fight.

  Parallax dons her battle mask. For all she knows, it's for the last time.

  She summons two of her staves, brilliant purple bars of light, pulsing and humming with energy.

  She leaps off the edge of the ship, aiming for the hole in the rocks.