If I had access to my suit’s advanced functions, I would have had the smart cloth repurpose and recalibrate one of the lasers.
Not that I wanted to kill Monard.
Not unless he lunged at me.
But without the suit’s advanced functions, I had only a whole suit of vulnerable smart fabric and a couple safety lines. I didn’t even have tools—the suit’s smart fabric formed hammers and wrenches and whatnot on demand.
My best weapon was the noxious stink of fresh fear-sweat inside my suit.
Monard shifted his stance. His feet left the deck for a heartbeat, the centripetal force only slowly bringing the deck up to meet him.
“Lucy,” Habre said. “The latch to the next hatch down. Bend it so it won’t open.”
“Ma’am.” Bapa—I never knew her first name was Lucy—knelt by the hatch, the smart cloth of her
