By accident, Seth and Nines exchanged a look. He felt a strange kinship with the girl, because right now, she seemed to be the only other person alive who shared his mind.
“Nines,” Jacen said. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s time,” she said quietly. “I think . . . I’ve seen all I need to see.
I’m going home.”
“What about what Turil said? About your family?”
Nines glanced at Seth again. It was odd. He had no idea what they were talking about, in reference to words that had comeout of his own mouth. Another detail lost in the abyss of his possession.
“She couldn’t know for sure.” Nines lifted her shoulders. “She may have known what she tried to make them into, but . . . I choose to believe that isn’t destiny.” She paused, and finished softly, “You can believe that too.”
Jacen stared at her, bereft. “What if you’re wrong?”
“I don’t know yet.” Nines looked up, out the wide circular window to the desert beyond. In that moment, she appeared lighter, more certain than Seth had yet seen her. She smiled. “I suppose I can decide.”
“Nines—” But something made Jacen stop.
“Thank you,” she said. “You gave me the chance to choose my own path. Even if it wasn’t yours.”
She offered him a nod, and Seth could only guess at every emotion that gesture conveyed. Gratitude but not quite trust. Anger but not quite hate. Respect butneverdeference. Sadness . . . but not regret.
She walked out of the audience chamber. She did not look back.
Seth, Jacen, and Ysira stood in silence—equidistant points of a triangle, alone beside the great window. The stars were coming out.
Nue was full and bright. Ixion would have been, too, but its shattered face haunted the sky. It was a constant reminder of what they had lost, what they had done, and what they might yet have to overcome. Seth could not look at it without being reminded of that awful hunger in Neri’s eyes, burning blood-red as he ripped the moon in two.
He stared at it as he finally asked, “What was he talking about?” He turned to Jacen and Ysira as they stared at him,puzzled. “Nines istoo strong, he said. He spared the weaker telepath and had him imprisoned. He wants that list. Why?”
No answer.
“Ysira,” Seth said, sharper this time. “What does he need telepaths for?” Jacen’s rigid demeanor suggested he knew too but would not say it.
At last, Ysira reluctantly spoke. “Nothing we intend to use.” She averted her eyes. “The Firstborn have several distinct advantages we don’t, and the most important of those is that they’re not confined to a single planet. The distances are so vast, they have to travel through the Source.”
Seth frowned. “Through Gates?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know exactly how they do it, but we need to learn. We need the means to travel beyond Celes Lor. We’re searching for alternatives, but right now, the only way we know of to replicate that technology—faster-than-light travel—is through the use of?—”
“Telepaths,” Seth asserted, disbelieving.
“Their brains,” Ysira said. “Merged with a vessel. A—anavigator, they call it.”
Telepathic brains, used to power the Firstborn Empire’s technology. Specifically,weaktelepaths like the ones always taken in—“The Harvest,” Seth said faintly. “That’s what it was for.”
Utterly at a loss, he raked his fingers over his scalp. He braced his hands behind his head, breathing deep, until he thought he could speak without screaming.
He asked Jacen, who was staring blankly at his hands, “How long have you known?”
“A few weeks,” Jacen muttered.
“Does Hesaya know? The Disciples?” They couldn’t possibly accept this. “And who would have been stupid enough totellthat thing?—”
“Neri saw the navigator,” Ysira said flatly. “When we were aboard the station. No one knows but us.”
She said that as though Seth was meant to find it reassuring.
