Director Mercer exhaled once, sharply. "Cut auxiliary power feeds. Starve the overload."
"I've been trying—Nine rerouted direct—" Kearns started before she stopped and stared at one flashing red indicator, then another. "It isn't just ignoring commands—it has locked us out. All I have are surface controls. And even that is touchy"
Mercer's jaw flexed.
It was the first real sign that he was angry.
Not at Sera.
At the machine.
"You're telling me," he said quietly, "my own system is refusing me."
Kearns swallowed. Sweat ran down her temple. "Yes, sir. It's busy."
Busy.
Sera almost laughed.
Her creature stretched and yawned. It is trying to remember how not to think about you. Poor thing. We are nothing if not memorable.
The platform bucked again, harder.
