Finding Jibril wouldn’t be easy. The Protean Clan leader had gone to ground and smoking him out of his hiding place meant either dangling some kind of bait tempting enough to lure him out despite his unease, or else scaring him out by pointing a big enough threat in his direction. At the moment Samara didn’t have the former and was leery about using the latter.

There had to be another way.

She was still nursing a grudge over Xeno’s bait-and-switch, though Kalypso could prove useful when they found their quarry. She still wasn’t sure what to make of Gideon, though if he was everything they claimed it tempted her to wean him off his meds long enough to put a whammy on her Avatar jailer. The only thing that stopped her was the fact Rook was watching her every move, and the instant she tried pulling a stunt like that, he’d make good on his threat.

It was tempting, though.

That left Persephone. She needed to get a handle on the woman, see if she was as just bitter as Xeno was. If so, that would be a problem.

The type of problem she’d cleaned up more than once during her tenure with Wetworks.

The only problem was that if she punched the woman’s ticket her friends would come looking for payback, and given their abilities, the odds weren’t encouraging if they forced her to throw down.

Maybe I’m just buying trouble, Samara thought. Retreating to her cabin, she sent a comm request to Persephone, making herself comfortable on the bed as she waited for a response. Moments later, her face appeared on the screen, and it took every gram of resolve she had to smile at the other woman, and not recoil in horror.

She might have been pretty, once, though it was hard to say. Persephone wore a sleeveless shirt and a pair of loose shorts, exposing much of her flesh to the air. Whether it was for comfort or hygiene was difficult to say...for every square centimeter of skin was covered in oozing pustules. She was wiping down her arm with a rag, cleaning off the worst of the yellowish-green slime. She looked into the camera and smiled.

“You must be Samara,” she said. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Thank you for rescuing us.”

“It was my pleasure, unexpected though it was,” she answered.

Persephone grimaced. “Xeno didn’t tell us until we were at the airlock he hadn’t warned you we were tagging along. I’m sorry about that.”

“Forget it,” she answered with a dismissive wave. “I just wanted to check in and welcome you aboard.”

“That’s very kind,” she said, “and your partner has been most helpful getting me settled in.”

“Well, if there’s anything you need, just ask,” she told her, though it took her a moment to realize she was referring to Rook. “I’m curious though, what did Xeno say to have you sail off with us?”

She dunked the rag in a bowl of soapy water, rinsing and then wringing it out, before attacking the other arm. “That he could help me get away,” she said quietly, before looking up. “I’ve lived on Saint Jean most of my life. I didn’t want to die there, too.”

Samara raised an eyebrow. “Are you...ill?” she asked.

Persephone paused in her cleansing. “Samara, look at me.” She held out her arms for inspection. “I’ve been ill since my last gene splice. There’s nothing they can do for me, except lock me away.”

She could only imagine what living with that mutation must be like. “I’m sorry,” she told her.

The other woman shrugged. “Not your fault,” she told her. “You were lucky. Many of us weren’t.”

Samara didn’t feel guilty that her enhancements had worked out, exactly, but seeing the Misfits made her more than a little uncomfortable. And there was still one thing she had to know.

“Now that you are free,” she said carefully, “what are your intentions?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” Persephone countered. “Xeno told us you were leading a rebellion against Jibril and his alien Masters. Was he wrong?”

“No, he wasn’t,” Samara answered. “But there’s more than one way to fight, and I’m still deciding what the smart move is. Your ability, though...as potent a weapon as it might be, it’s a double-edged sword. With no way to protect our own people, setting you loose on the universe is a dangerous move. I hope you understand that.”

Setting the rag down in the bowl of water, she looked into the camera. “I do understand,” she agreed. “I also understand that we will never defeat the Troika by conventional means. That they’ll always have the better hand. If my ability can tip the scales in our favor, if we can finally break their hold on us, then I will gladly be a part of that, whether or not it’s dangerous.” There was an almost unearthly calm about her as she said those words, while Samara felt a chill running down her spine.

“If the disease your body creates ever escapes into the population, it could mean the end of humanity,” he said at last. “It’s too big a risk.”

“The Troika are already trying to kill us,” she replied, her eyes suddenly growing hard and cold. “At least with my help, we can take the bastards down with us.”

Samara stared at the woman as realization hit her with more juice than a certain unnamed Tinker had shocked her with. Xeno hadn’t escaped with a desperate group of patients, she thought with growing comprehension, but a full-fledged terrorist cell.

And just what the hell was she supposed to do now?

“Well, if there’s anything you need, you just let us know,” she smiled, remaining calm while she made pleasantries before cutting the circuit. If Rook ever got wind of this…

“You fool,” she heard from the display, her heart sinking. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I suppose thinking I’d have even a moment of privacy was too much to hope for,” she snapped, “but you can’t pin this one on me. I had no idea he was bringing them out with him.”

Rook just glared at her. “This little experiment of yours is over,” he hissed. “By this time tomorrow they’ll be a distant memory.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, though his words were brutally clear. But she needed to hear him say it out loud.

“When they enter their sleep cycle, I will ensure they never regain consciousness,” he informed her. “You need not concern yourself with the details.”

A thousand responses flitted through her mind, before she rose silently to her feet. “And where do you think you’re going?” he shouted behind her, but Samara was already out of her cabin and into the corridor. Rook easily kept pace with her as she moved through the ship, bouncing from one monitor to the next. “Stop this instant! I command you!”

She refused to acknowledge his orders, moving faster now as she hurried towards her destination. It only took a second to disable the lock on Kalypso’s cabin, forcing her way in and grabbing the startled woman by the metallic arm. “Come on,” she growled, “there’s work to be done.”

“What work?” she asked as the hatch slammed shut, locking them both inside.

“That, for starters,” Samara answered, pointing at the portal. “Rook will kill all of you while you sleep, and we need to stop him.”

“What? Why?” she shrieked. “Why would an Avatar try to kill us?”

“Because he’s not a human Avatar,” she fired back. “He’s Kikush, and he thinks you’re a threat.”

Kalypso’s eyes went wide at that revelation, and then suddenly she was moving, her hands now glowing as she shoved them into the bulkhead beside the hatch. Seconds later, it popped back open as Samara shoved her way through. “This way,” she told her, heading for the Engine Room.

Rook’s image appeared before them. “That’s far enough,” he warned, as a klaxon howled. The Protean’s head snapped left and right, looking for an alternative route, when Kalypso stepped forward, her arms wide as she plunged them into the bulkheads on either side of the corridor, and ran.

Monitors and lights snapped off or exploded as she dashed through the ship, her embedded artificial limbs wrecking unimaginable havoc to the ship’s systems as she raced through the vessel. Somewhere behind them she could hear Rook screech, “Stop! Stop!”

Gideon staggered out into the corridor before them, his eyes wild and groggy. “What…?” he got out, as Samara grabbed him and pointed aft.

“Trash the ship!” she screamed, “Rook is trying to kill us!”

That was all the encouragement he needed. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes, concentrating with clenched fists at his side seconds before a rumbling detonation reverberated throughout the craft.

“STOP!”

Rook’s face appeared without warning, on every undamaged screen in sight. “You’re destabilizing the core!” he shrieked. “I’m begging you, stop what you’re doing!”

Samara’s smile was as glacial as a comet’s frozen heart. “Then stand down,” she warned him, “or I’ll tell him to finish the job.”

He stared at her in disbelief, as the others looked on. “You’re mad,” he said in shock. “That would kill you too!”

“You were already planning on killing us,” she fired back. “I have absolutely nothing to lose here.”

“Not you,” he corrected her, realizing too late his error, the others glaring at him with undisguised hatred as he admitted the truth.

“You fucking aliens,” she snarled, “you just don’t get it.” Samara moved until she stood between the others, staring angrily at his image. “You come after one of us, you’d best be prepared to face all of us.” She’d had her issues with other humans in the past, like everyone else, but there was a line she now refused to cross.

“This changes nothing, you know,” he told her. “I still control this ship. I can still call for help.”

“And we can wreck this ship before they ever get here,” she countered. “I already warned you about Mutually Assured Destruction, Rook. So just how eager are you to test us?”

Time seemed to come to a halt as she awaited his answer. The irony of the situation was especially biting; not five minutes ago she was trying to decide how to extricate herself from the other humans aboard, and now she was vowing to go to her grave defending them.

Rook sneered at her. “You’re bluffing.”

“...bad call,” she snorted, before turning to Gideon. “Hit it again.”

Another muffled explosion seemed to rock the ship, as the Avatar screamed in panic, “All right! I’ll stand down!”

Samara moved closer to the monitor. “Now here’s the deal, Rook. We’ll fight the Troika, just like I promised...but in return you back us every step of the way. You pull another stunt like this, and it’s over. Along with you.”

He looked like a cornered rat. “You’re insane,” he said in disbelief. “Your entire race is dangerously psychotic!”

“Now you get it,” she smirked. “How do you think we’ve survived as long as we have?”

The Avatar paused, the image halting for a moment before coming back to life. “We must find a port for repairs,” he reported. “There has been extensive damage done to the ship.”

“You do what you have to do,” she said evenly. “Just remember...so will we.”

Liva waited until it was quiet, until she was certain her family were all deep in their slumber, before making her move. She’d wrapped the tiny crutches she used to propel her cart in rags to silence them, just as she asked one of the Tinkers aboard to oil the wheels. Even so, she had to move so slowly, so not to be heard, as she levered herself onto the cart and moved towards the hatch.

She held her breath as the hatch slid open, pushing herself out into the corridor as quickly as she could manage before it closed behind her. Her heart pound in her chest as she waited, precious minutes ticking by until she was certain her family had not awakened. When she was sure, she started the long trek to her destination. Clump, drag. Clump, drag. Clump, drag. It was slow going, pressing the wrapped hunks of scrap to the deck and propelling herself forward, bit by bit, and it forced her to stop and rest many times during her journey. What few others up who were and about during Midwatch gave her a wide berth, but then they always did.

No one wanted to be anywhere near the cripple.

There was some deep-seated fear for those like her, the knowledge that no one was truly safe. She didn’t blame those that avoided her, truth be told she was glad for it. At least they were honest, not like the ones with fake smiles pretending to care about you. Them she couldn’t stand.

She stopped once more, her skinny arms trembling with the effort as she fought to catch her breath. The MS had only gotten worse over the years, but what had finally driven her to this wasn’t the pain, or the incontinence, or the nonstop humiliation. It was watching those around her taking those first furtive steps to adulthood, watching her friends pair off and explore this unknown world of touch and emotion and sense...and knowing that no one would ever want to share that with the poor little cripple girl.

And then there was her family. She loved them deeply, and they her, but they had sacrificed so much because of her, given up so many things that could have made their lives better. It wasn’t fair.

They’d all be better off without her.

It took over an hour for her to crab her way at the airlock. There were other entrances that were closer, but they were all manned and saw plenty of traffic. No, for this she needed privacy, just a few minutes alone to do what needed to be done. She’d have to set the cycle to automatic, but that was simple enough. Close the inner hatch, pup out the air, then open the outer door to release her body into space.

And it would all be over.

Not that she wanted to die, far from it. There were so many things she yearned to do, so many experiences she had yet to savor. And then there was her family. She knew how they’d mourn her, how sad it would make them. If she had any other choice, she wouldn’t do this.

She didn’t want to die...she could just no longer bear to live.

Clump, drag. Clump, drag. Clump, drag. Meter by meter, she drew closer until finally her goal was in sight. She glanced nervously around her, but there was no one in sight. With a deep breath, she moved forward, reaching up to palm the hatch release.

Time to finish what she’d started.

As the hatch locked open she pulled herself inside, making her way to the console. The controls were above her head, but she was used to that. She leveraged herself up with effort, clinging to the dashboard as she programmed the automatic cycle and prepared to trigger the sequence.

She froze, her hand hovering over the blinking red light, willing herself to press the button. It was so hard, ending all of this, but she knew it was the only thing left for her. Going on just hurt too damn much. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath...and forced her hand to close the circuit.

“Liva! No!”

Her head irked up in shock, her eyes going wide as she spotted her Mama and Baba racing towards her, before bowing her head in shame. How had they found her? So close...she’d been so close.

Her parents forced their way into the small chamber, her father quickly deactivating the controls while her mother enfolded her in her arms. “Why bao-bao, why?” she wailed, again and again, rocking her back and forth.

“...I’m sorry,” she cried, as she broke down into great wracking sobs, the tears streaming down her cheeks.