The dim room inside hosted banks of consoles and blinking buttons in a great semi-circle. Above them all, a giant window, taller than Aevryn's house, looked out over the city. Dust covering the glass made the world look twice as snowy as it should be. Chairs sat in front of all the consoles, but a larger chair rested before the console in the middle, and M'yu hurried over to it. Behind him, the door swooshed closed, and M'yu's chest clenched. That might keep random people from wandering in, but if the techs were paying attention at all, there had been a lot of activity in this otherwise abandoned area. They may-or-may not be able to override the AI's control, but they sure as rot could notify the guards to wait outside the door.

Better make this quick.

The chair hugged M'yu as he settled into it. The console lit up with a tap, and M'yu searched through its menus. Navigation, Life Support, Engine Systems... He flicked through, growing increasingly frustrated. He hadn't come here to fly the rotting ship! Besides, most of these systems were dead, offline, except—

M'yu's brow furrowed, and he clicked open one system that looked like it was still operational. Signal Cloaker, it read. He tapped out a command to get access to its code, but it opened in read-only mode. He scrolled down, trying to make sense of it. Part of the code—a small part—seemed to be what kept M'yu from detecting and latching onto the Prav'sudja's port earlier. But the rest of the code—

It was beyond M'yu, far beyond him, but whatever it was, it had enough bandwidth to reach the whole city. M'yu shook his head, the astronomical numbers swimming before his eyes. No, it reached far beyond the city. Maybe...

Maybe beyond the planet.

Aevryn might have lied to him about some things, but those holodisplays... M'yu bit his lip. Those weren't lies. And the Tsar who filmed those videos had thought he was coming back. He'd counted on the pigs that ran the world to the ground now to keep his city safe and to help him get back home. He didn't deserve to be locked out of his planet, and the Caps didn't deserve to get away with it.

M'yu turned the Signal Cloaker off.

The AI Peitros appeared, flickering in blue light. "Invalid operation," he informed M'yu. "The current settings were set by a previous Tsaright. To override them, you must of equal or higher station."

M'yu's lip curled, and he glanced down at his map. If he stayed, he might be able to find a workaround, maybe, but those linkcard dots were heading in a direction that looked concerningly like his.

Cursing, he pushed out of the chair. The door swooshed open as he approached, and he limped down the hall, following the map on Ruslan's linkcard. This section of the Prav'sudja didn't have as many halls and connecting paths as the other. There were—he swiped through as he hurried along—three routes. In the left hall, dots moved in clusters down toward him; in the center hall, a smaller group of dots hit the mouth of the corridor. If there were any guards moving toward the right hall...

M'yu broke into a run, eyes watering and vision bursting with bright dots of pain. If there were guards headed toward the right hall, they were far enough away to be out of range. He kept glancing down as he ran, checking, worrying. They're going to catch me, and this is all going to be for nothing. The first dot appeared, not quite to the hall mouth yet. M'yu tried to speed up, then stumbled as his lungs begged for breath that his injured rib refused to give. He leaned against the wall, watching with mounting horror as the dots trickled into the mouth of the corridor. They're going to catch me.

He glanced back, then down at his map. The other two tunnels were already marked full. But maybe if he could hide in the hall, near the chamber all three connected to, there was a chance one tunnel would empty and he could slip—

Footfalls sounded up the hall, and M'yu pushed off the wall, stumbling back the way he'd come. That wouldn't work; the guards had all arrived too close together. Dim lights in the wall sconces danced at the corners of M'yu's vision. There had to be another way, a better way—

His breaths came ragged, and his pace slowed as he pulled Ruslan's linkcard back up. These halls didn't have any doors to close. He could buy himself a few moments by turning off the lights, but someone would have them on again soon. He was caged in, just as caged in as he'd been in that drawer earlier, just as caged in as he'd been in his cell. Rot, he was about to be in a cell—

He pushed back the waves of horror, zooming in on the map where he was at. Control, control, control. Every cage had a key. He just needed somewhere to hide, just for a moment. A door, any door. That door.

Footsteps pounded down the hall, and M'yu typed out an unlock command with fumbling fingers. Down the hall toward the bridge, something metal clanged against the floor, and M'yu ran toward it. Voices called out behind him as he skidded to a stop in front of his escape—an air grate he had ordered open. The mouth gaped at him, barely big enough for him to crawl into, and his eyes watered, chills running up his spine. The metal door rested against the floor, as inviting as the ominous arches of Scrollschool.

"Halt!" someone called, and M'yu dove into the blackness. He screamed as his ribs thudded against the metal. Something cracked, and he fought to catch his breath. "He's here!" someone called, and M'yu wormed further into the pipe, biting back a whimper.

A hand reached in and grabbed his foot. M'yu flailed, shoe coming loose. Another hand grabbed his other foot, and M'yu kicked, sending every bit of panic down the length of his leg. Something solid crunched against his heel as a man cried out, letting go of M'yu's foot.

He shimmied up the vent, tears streaming down his face. His breath came in shallow, pain-wracking gasps. The heat was intense, worse than it'd been in the drawer, and sweat beaded M'yu's brow. I'm going to burn alive in here. He wanted to glance back, to see if he was far enough away from the entrance, but the ceiling was too low to move his head that far. He gasped, breaths turning to erratic hiccups as he crawled. "Control," he whispered to himself, but pain swam through his head, and the walls were so close, closer than death to a rot-ridden man. "Control," he whimpered.

A new burst of hot air blasted down the pipe. M'yu choked on it and fumbled for the linkcard in his sleeve. The soldiers' voices and laughs called behind him. "Better come back before you fry, kid!" The card slipped from M'yu's fingers, screen-side down. Thrown into darkness, he scrabbled blindly for it. The vent burned his fingers. He flipped the card into his hand, face up. Cracks ran across the surface, its light dim. Please, please, he begged as he tried to type out commands.

"Get a rope," someone yelled from behind him. "We'll hook him."

M'yu squirmed forward, toward the heat, fresh pain bursting across his side. Sweat dripped into his eyes. Please, he begged, running the routine.

The heat stuttered off, but then kicked back on, reset by the techs. M'yu kicked out, trying to convince himself he was getting somewhere, that he'd get out, that he wasn't trapped here until his skeleton burned to dust. Something hit his ankle, and he shoved it off with his other foot. Pain shot through him, and colors danced in his eyes, coalescing into knives, into puddles of blood, into shooting flames. I still think we should just set the house on fire, he heard again, as if Karsya was right beside him.

Swallowing dust, M'yu wiped his eyes clean and punched out a new routine on the linkcard. The cracked screen fought him, typing the wrong letters, backspacing, jumping a line. His frenzied fingers flew over the card, his swimming vision fighting to double-check all the commands. This is going to get me killed, he thought just as he hit 'run.'

The heat blasted up as high as it could possibly go. The metal burned beneath him. He used his beanie to protect his face from the blistering air. The fragile linkcard splintered and fell apart in his hand; glass bits blew back and sliced his ears in tiny cuts. It was so hot, M'yu couldn't breathe, could hardly think. The vent whined; M'yu tensed.

And everything died.

The air cut off with a clang. What light had trickled in from behind M'yu disappeared entirely. The entire building fell eerily silent. Then the soldiers began calling out. The vent cooled quickly, aided by the winter. M'yu shimmied past the broken glass, beanie held between his teeth. He bit down on it with every pounding flare of pain, in every tense moment where he swore he was stuck, and kept inching forward until he couldn't hear anyone anymore. He had no map and he had no light; his own linkcard was tucked into his coat, but it might as well have been back at Aevryn's house for all he could reach it. There was no plan, nothing beyond forward.

Ruslan's card was gone. Destroyed. M'yu would never get another chance. The revolution, the dream, the desperate hope... it was over. He laid his head on his hands, just for a second, just long enough to catch his breath, to give his fiery side a moment to cool down.

The dark grip of the tunnel was little different than the dark grip of sleep.

* * *

M'yu awoke to voices. They whispered a way off, and he wondered if he was hallucinating. He blinked in the darkness. Perhaps he hadn't woken up at all. The world was black nothingness, anti-reality, no sense and nonsense—

He shifted, and pain blossomed in his side. It sent stars through his sight and sharpened his focus.

He swallowed hard, then crawled forward, trying to listen. A grate opened up, looking down into a room dimly lit by a single electric candle held up by an old man. It seemed the techs hadn't yet managed to restore the systems M'yu had overloaded. M'yu's lip curled as he wondered how the Caps liked getting a taste of Gloamer medicine.

"...told you what his plan was," a girl hissed. M'yu's chest constricted. Karsya. "It's not my fault you didn't take me seriously."

"Such a tongue." The man with the candle tsked. He took Karsya's cheeks in one hand, throwing her shadow across the austere room. A thin mattress was the tiny space's only decoration. "In many houses, slaves with tongues like that don't often keep them."

Karsya bit at him, and Xten pushed her to the ground. "I have shown you mercy," he said mildly. "Please don't make me regret it."

She glared up at him through wild locks of hair.

"Child, we don't have to be enemies. You came here looking to make a deal, but you came with the wrong bargaining chips. I'm offering you a new bargain. That's what you want, no?"

Karsya trembled. "I won't."

"Child." He sighed, a soft, patient noise that M'yu wished he could tear out of his mouth. "You already know you will. You knew you would before you came, or else you wouldn't be here."

"It was a mistake," she bit out.

"Why?" His head tilted. "Because I put you in your place for a time? I think you knew that would happen too. You, Miss R'vel, you understand something many people don't." He smiled softly. "You understand power. Its worth. Its price. Its... benefits."

He paced to the side of her, and her eyes followed him, wide, desperate, afraid. Hopeful. M'yu's nails dug into his palm.

"You want Fesryn Tam's head?" the Tsaright asked. "I can give it to you. And more than that, I could give you his title. Magnate Karsya R'vel, ruler of the Gloam, richest woman alive."

Karsya shivered, head tilted back, and M'yu's throat burned. No, no, no.

Almost as though she'd heard him, her eyes snapped open, and she shook her head. "As if you'd even do it."

Xten shrugged. "And why not? He's lost control over the Gloam—letting nosy lawyers interfere with his Nightsale, paying for terrorists to attend Scrollschool." He tsked. "Not good business, not good business at all." He stepped closer, the electric candle throwing soft, shifting lines over his face. "No, no, he's outlived himself. Become soft, cowardly, sloppy. Not at all, I see"—he reached down a hand to Karsya—"like you."

Her eyes shimmered, and she swiped her face with the back of her hand. "I want it in writing."

M'yu's heart plummeted.

"You know I can't make a contract like that." He smiled at her, an almost fatherly thing that M'yu hoped the candle would burn off. "But you also know I can make it happen. You wouldn't have come to me otherwise."

She looked up at him, a dangerous amount of hope in her eyes. "You would really strike down the Magnate?"

M'yu's breath burned in his throat.

"For you?" Xten crouched down in front of her. "For your help, Miss R'vel, I would strike down half the Capital." His head cocked. "But I don't think it's the Capital you're interested in. This is about you and the boy who ran to the people you hate."

Karsya froze.

"Mykta z'Daras lied to you. He played with you. He stood on your shoulders so that he could reach the stars. And then, when he could have brought you into the stars with him—" Xten snapped, and Karsya flinched. "Just like that, he forgot you. Like you were nothing."

Every muscle in M'yu's body shook, but his tongue clung to the roof of his mouth.

"You expect a man like the Magnate to be cruel." Xten's voice softened, warm as the hearth. "But your friend?" He shook his head. "He stole everything from you, and what I'm offering is to give it back. Two courses of revenge, and a box seat to watch it all from."

"I can't," Karsya said again, but softer now.

"You can. All you have to do is tell me things people already know. Your friends in the Gloam, they're scared. They're being bullied by a man who wants to let Mytka off free while you rot in here. Now you tell me." He held his hand out again. "Is that fair?"

Don't do it. M'yu wanted to scream, but his throat was frozen. Karsya's eyes squeezed shut, and her fists clenched. Don't do it. She drew in a slow breath, that same measured inhale she took before any of their missions. It rippled through her whole body, filling out her shoulders, straightening her spine, until she tipped her head up and looked the Tsaright in the eye. "What do we have to do?"

M'yu's world spun as she let the Tsaright take her hand and draw her to her feet, his smile sweet as sugared witchcandy. "All I need to know are the things he doesn't want me to. Come." He held her hand high, like she was some woman of station. "Let us go somewhere more comfortable."

The door unlocked, and they left. M'yu's fist banged against the vent, head pounding. Karsya! Had she really come here to trade what she knew for the Magnate's head? All those years they spent imagining a better world, a fairer world—

Had she just been imagining a world with her on the top of it? And how long had she been willing to sell him out to get it?

Old memories rolled over him, and he sagged against the cold metal of the vent. It had been Karsya who first suggested they destroy the central linkcard system. He had worried at first what that might do to the people in the Gloam, the handful who did have cards, who had managed a mite of money and stability. But the more she talked about it—the more they talked about it—the more the idea took hold, sinking hooks into his heart, setting his eyes in one direction until it seemed like the only way out, the only way to freedom.

But Aevryn had offered him another and he'd spat on it.

M'yu banged on the grate, trying to pop it open. It wasn't quite big enough to squeeze out from, just three feet by one, but M'yu wasn't staying here another second. These were the slave quarters; no one would report the noise. The thin wall bent as he hit it, and he pressed the advantage, hammering with his fist, his elbow, anything to get it to give just a little, just a little more...

The grate popped free, tearing part of the wall off with a screech. M'yu's knuckles bled. The grate had left some sharp edges behind, but they were mostly pointed the way he wanted to go. He shimmied past the opening, then wormed his way backward, feet-first through the hole. Holding onto the vent walls, he dropped gently down, wincing as his feet hit the ground. His hand went to his side and came away bloody. He bit his lip, then shook his head. There'd be time to figure that out later.

Right now, he needed to get back to Aevryn.

He limped toward the door, leaning against it as he pulled out his picks and fiddled with the lock. Pushing into the hall, he hurried as best he could, hand pressed against the wall for balance. He didn't recognize this area, but he didn't need to. He just needed a way out. Any way. A window. He'd climb down the face of the mountain for all he cared. He just needed to get home—

A guard appeared from around the corner, a male slave at his elbow. M'yu cursed and turned, running back the way he'd come, but his rib stabbed against his skin, and his leg gave out from under him. He hit the ground hard, chin clipping the stone. His head rang as he tried to push to his feet, but the guard was on him before he could rise, putting pressure on his wound. M'yu called out, pain rolling over him in crashing waves of blackness.

And then the blackness drowned him.