Amira has the stinger clasped in both hands, her finger inside the trigger guard. A tiny wisp of smoke is curling from the barrel, catching light from a nearby screen. For one weird instant, I wonder how she managed to keep the gun on her when she was captured by Zhao. Above it, her eyes are cold. She has the same expression she had back at the brig, when she broke me out. Sorrow and anger, fighting for control. I slowly find the words, my voice shaking. “Amira, what are you doing?” “Don’t,” she says. Her voice cracks a little. Does she have to reload? Can she fire again straightaway? Impossible to tell. My eyes fall on Garner’s body. Her legs have tilted to the side as her chair toppled over, and she lies sprawled across the floor. As I watch, her hand, splayed out above her head, twitches ever so slightly. “She’s still alive.” I look at Amira, trying to hide the desperation in my voice.
