Arthur dropped to the ground like he was on fire as Mac’s hook sheared the air where Occam once stood. The hook swung on a chain that—like the rail gauntlet on his other arm—could be fired and retracted at high speeds. He wielded the chain-hook like a whip, swinging it in wide arcs, while the rail-gauntlet hammered forward in direct strikes.

  Since deflecting the gauntlet to save Cenn’s life, Arthur hadn’t been able to summon that kind of reflex again. He tumbled more than he dodged—and ‘dodged’ was generous for what he was doing.

  “You're fast,” Mac said through the PA as the chain retracted link by link into the arm socket. “but can you fight?”

  The gauntlet twisted in his shoulder joint like a beast in a cage.

  “Get ready,” Hitori said suddenly.

  Mac’s question was punctuated by the mechanical clang that launched his gauntlet like a missile.

  Flat on his stomach, Arthur did the only thing he knew he could do reliably. Contorting the sticks and grieves, he heaved Occam into a roll just in time. Unfortunately, he underestimated Occam’s strength—the roll carried him through a second rotation and onto the roof of a one-story building.

  Arthur cringed, expecting the structure to collapse, but it held. He’d already gotten an earful from Hitori about containing the brawl. As if learning to fight wasn’t hard enough, he also had to mind the collateral damage.

  Arthur growled, forcing Occam back to his feet. He had one foot off the roof when something urgent lanced through him—not a thought, and it wasn’t even a feeling—it was like a sunbeam the size of a needle struck right through his skull. Instinct took hold. He twisted sideways as though squeezing through a narrow door. Mac’s hook raked across Occam’s chassis between hip and ribs. As it struck, Occam leapt backward with the swing’s momentum. He was flung down the street, but he avoided being skewered—and at least he didn’t crush another building.

  “Good,” Hitori said, “you’re learning to listen, but you’re not engaging with the link intentionally. An accidental success is worse than an intentional failure sometimes.

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  Sometimes? Arthur shot him a flat stare and Hitori gave it right back.

  “Now why don’t you try hitting him for a change.”

  Down the street, Mac seemed content to let Arthur suffer. A blessing, Hitori told him. Arthur tried to see it the same way. Right then in the cockpit, warning alarms and integrity alerts alight, his circumstances crystalized.

  “Everything’s a test from here on out, isn’t it?” Arthur asked.

  “If we had more time, things would be different. We’d have a more formal, incremental training. But that’s not the hand you were given.”

  He was right, of course. This was Arthur’s dream—to be a meck pilot, eliminate threats to the Empire’s peace—he just hadn’t imagined threats would look or feel like this. He’d always thought about fighting Geos in their prismatic Transers, not bandits on backwater spheres in frames.

  What was Mac even doing here? His gang had war machines and ran unchecked as far as he could tell. From his perch in Occam’s cockpit, Arthur glanced at the town for the hundredth time, and confirmed no local militia intended to intervene. It was all on him.

  Arthur rubbed his damp fingers together across the sticks, trying to dry them.

  Emboldened, he asked Hitori what they should do.

  “We run.”

  The words hit Arthur like a slap.

  “Run?”

  Hitori brought up the map and highlighted the blips of Mac’s gang closing in.

  “We need to relocate,” Hitori continued, “the other frames and cycles are encircling our position.”

  “But didn’t you say our best chance was for me to beat him now? Thrust forward, that’s what you said.”

  “That was the plan. Till you decided not to throw a punch. So now we adapt.”

  “You still in there?” Mac called. “Did they forget to install an eject seat? Let me help you find it.”

  Arthur was surprised to realize he wanted to stay, what had to mean he was going insane. Occam’s sensors picked up the gang closing in, and his legs carried him backward into the alley before he could argue. Mac’s words chased him.

  “You can run, but you can’t hide!”