Marina cries out in surprise, pulling her hands away.
“What the hell was that?” I ask, eyes wide.
“I don’t know!” Marina yells. “Something’s fighting me, Six. I’m afraid I’m hurting him.”
The second Marina’s healing stops, Adam’s still-open wound begins bleeding again. He’s getting pale. More pale than usual, even. His hand scrabbles through the dirt and gropes for Marina.
“Don’t . . . agh, don’t stop,” Adam manages to gurgle, and when he does I can see that there’s dark blood in his mouth. “Whatever happens . . . don’t stop.”
Steeling herself, Marina again presses down on Adam’s injury. She squeezes her eyes shut and concentrates, fresh sweat dripping down the sides of her dirt-smudged face. I’ve seen Marina heal a lot of injuries before, but this is definitely the most effort I’ve seen her expend. Adam’s body slowly begins to regenerate, until another section of his insides sparks and disintegrates, looking like the fuse of a bomb burning up inside him. When that’s over, though, the rest of him heals normally.
It takes a couple of minutes, but Marina finally gets Adam closed up. She falls backwards onto her butt, breathing like she’s just finished sprinting, her hands shaking. Adam remains on his back, running his fingers over the skin of his abdomen that minutes ago wasn’t there. Finally, he props himself up on an elbow and looks at Marina.
“Thank you,” he says, locking eyes with her, his face a mixture of amazement and gratitude.
“Don’t mention it,” Marina replies, catching her breath.
“Um, Marina . . . would you mind?” I gesture to the piece of metal still sticking out of my leg.
Marina groans from the exertion, but nods, maneuvering around so she’s on her knees in front of me. “Do you want me to pull it out or . . . ?”
Before she can finish, I yank the jagged piece of shrapnel out of my thigh. A fresh spurt of blood trickles down my leg. The pain is bad, but Marina quickly numbs it with a blast of cold before using her healing Legacy to close me up. Compared to putting Adam back together, it takes no time at all.
When she’s finished with me, Marina immediately looks back at Adam. “What was that when I was healing you? Why was it so hard?”
“I . . . I don’t know, exactly,” Adam replies, staring into the distance.
“You started to disintegrate a little,” I say. “Like you were dying.”
“I was dying,” Adam says. “But that shouldn’t happen to me. The vatborn warriors you’ve faced turn to ash because they’re made entirely from Setrákus Ra’s genetic experimentation. Some trueborn, like me, receive modifications that would cause them to disintegrate when they die. I haven’t received anything like that, though. At least . . .”
“Not that you know of,” I finish the thought for him.
“Yeah,” Adam replies, looking down at himself like he suddenly doesn’t trust his own body. “I was in a coma for years. It’s possible my father might have done something to me. I don’t know what, though.”
“Whatever it was, I think my healing burned it out of you,” Marina says.
“I hope so,” Adam replies.
All three of us fall silent. With the medical emergencies averted, it becomes clear just how badly we’ve screwed up. I walk over to the scorched patch of dirt where Phiri Dun-Ra’s explosive went off, kicking around tattered bits of duffel bag and misshapen hunks of metal. The bag was probably filled with conduits, but I don’t find anything even slightly salvageable.
We are now totally stranded here.
When I turn around, I find that Adam has picked himself up and is now standing over Phiri’s unconscious body.
“We should kill her,” he says coldly. “There’s no reason to keep her alive.”
“We don’t do that,” Marina answers, her voice gentle, reasonable. “She can’t hurt us if she’s tied up.”
Adam opens his mouth to respond, but seems to decide against it. Marina just saved his life, so I guess he feels like he should listen to her. I actually find myself agreeing with both of them—Phiri Dun-Ra is nothing but trouble, and holding on to her is just begging for her to screw us over again. But killing her when she’s unconscious seems wrong.
“We’ll at least wait for her to wake up,” I say diplomatically. “Figure out what to do with her then.”
The others nod in silent, glum agreement. We head back to the Sanctuary. I use telekinesis to float Phiri’s unconscious body along with us. Once we’re back, Marina keeps the ice shackles nice and thick until we’ve used an electric cable to safely secure the Mog trueborn to the wheel of one of the many broken-down ships. At this point, I’m pretty sure she’s playing possum. Let her. Marina’s right—she can’t hurt us while she’s tied up, and if she gets free, well, I’ll make sure Adam gets his wish.
Not sure what else to do, I try the satellite phone again. Still no answer from John. That makes me think of Phiri Dun-Ra telling us that the war had already come and gone. I don’t have any new scars, which means John and Nine are still very much alive, but that doesn’t mean everything is copacetic back in New York.
“Adam, can we key into the Mog communications from one of these ships?” I ask. “I want to know what’s happening.”
“Of course,” he replies, jumping at the opportunity to do something productive.