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Davidov told us. “When it learns about your wife’s unique physiology, it will not stop until it can play with her. I suggest you dangle her in a prominent place. One more thing: Don’t kill the Hsktskt. I’ve become very fond of her.”
    I wondered if Reever’s former friend had gone mad. He was speaking as if he had.
    “Find the shifter and kill it, Duncan,” Davidov repeated. “You and the lovely doctor are the only ones left who can. Because if you don’t, I will bombard the surface of Trellus until I kill you, Jarn, the shifter, and every other living thing on this planet. You have thirty solar days. Renko , out.”
    Five
    Davidov’s threat echoed in my head, which was starting to spin. I tried to take a deep, cleansing breath, and found that I couldn’t. My ears suddenly popped rather painfully, as if someone had clapped their hands over them.
    “Something is wrong with the air,” I told my husband, who was staring down at the ruined helm. His back and shoulders were rigid. “Duncan.”
    He straightened and turned to me. “The air?” He breathed in and touched one of his ears. “The cabin pressure is dropping.” He summoned the maintenance drone. “Report the current levels in the environmental supply tanks.”
    “Working.” The drone made more of its noises, and then said, “Atmospheric supply levels at twenty-seven percent.”
    “Is the hull leaking atmosphere?” Reever demanded.
    The drone fell silent for a few moments. “Negative.Supply tanks two, six, and nine empty and no longer functional. Estimated repair time, three solar days.”
    “We have to get into suits,” my husband said. “We’ll run out of air in an hour.”
    We couldn’t stay with Moonfire or try to make repairs without air. “Do we have enough oxygen in the suit tanks to walk eleven kilometers?”
    “We’ll have to carry spare tanks with us.”
    “We may not have an hour,” I told him. “I think colonial security has found us.”
    The machines surrounding the ship stood ten feet tall, and were covered from top to bottom in heavy, dark blue armor. The armor plates seemed to absorb the light from the ship’s exterior emitters rather than reflect it. Tight bundles of shielded power cables ran the length of their frames, feeding into hydraulic boosters and weapons ports.
    They had been designed to appear somewhat humanoid, with two upper extension grapplers like arms that ended in four-pronged, claw-shaped grips serving as hands. Instead of two legs, they had three, which formed a jointed tripod base.
    “Drednocs.” Reever came to stand beside me, and I looked at him. “A type of battle drone developed by the League during their war with the Hsktskt. They were used during the heaviest surface fighting. Very little can stop them.”
    I recalled what Davidov had said about the Hsktskt. “Why would they be used here, on a trade colony?”
    “I don’t know.” He stiffened as something struck the hull outside. “They’re fitted with sonic torches and are going to cut their way in. We have to put on suits, now.”
    We found two intact envirosuits, and I removed the supply tanks from two others. As we dressed, Reever issued terse instructions.
    “Do not identify yourself to them,” he said, “or relate that we met with Alek, or that he and I have any connection. If they wish to know why we were in orbit, say that we were surveying the planet when we experienced engine trouble.”
    “Can’t we just hide somewhere until they go away?” I asked as I pulled the envirosuit up over my legs.
    Vibrating, squealing metallic sounds shook the hull.
    “Thermal scanners are standard on all security drones,” Reever told me as he fastened the air seals at the back of my suit, and turned to let me do the same with his. “They’ll pick up our heat signatures wherever we hide. If they’re ATD programmed, they won’t harm us.” He saw my expression and added, “Security drones are usually programmed to apprehend,