“Ah, good,” An said as the group stepped into the reactor room, “you’re all here. I take it you’re ready to begin?”

“Pretty much,” Kano said. “Though I’m not sure I entirely understand the plan. I’m going to redirect the energy to the children, and then what?”

“Then, while the catalysts are separated from the rest of the reactor, I’ll render them inert.”

“How are you going to do that?” Was the necromancer going to climb into the reactor? That hadn’t ended too well for Werisah.

“I’ll carefully direct some tiny particles through the reactor to the catalysts in question, so that I can remotely manipulate them. They’re quite simplistic in nature and should require only a few minor alterations.”

Kano took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s do it. I’ll start with a small part and then work up from there, sound good?”

Seeing An nod, Kano reached out to bottom-right corner of the reactor and redirected the energy around one of the catalysts to where the children waited. Even if they weren’t too enthusiastic about their role, at least it would be easy. All they had to do was stand there and receive what Kano gave them.

Concentrating only on the task at hand, Kano kept her breathing steady and watched the flow of energy. There were no abnormalities or fluctuations. Everything was proceeding as planned. She couldn’t sense whatever An was doing, not until she noticed the catalysts in the area she’d isolated had stopped producing energy.

“All right,” An said, “I’m done. We can move on to the next area.”

“You’re sure?” If An made a mistake and Kano let the energy flow back, it was likely to kill them all. Or worse.

“Completely. Come on, we don’t have all day.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” Despite An’s reassurance, Kano anxiously watched for any hint that the catalysts might still be functioning as she released her hold. But there was no reaction as the energy washed over them, and Kano finally relaxed. An was right.

“How much of the reactor do you think you can handle at once?” Kano asked.

“As much as you like.”

“Good.” Now that the process had been tested, Kano felt confident enough to work with a larger portion. Just as before, she shifted the energy, the children absorbed it, and An neutralized the catalysts. Once that was done, they’d dealt with maybe a tenth of the reactor’s total volume.

Kano considered trying to do more at once, but that would require going considerably beyond the maximum amount of energy she’d handled before, and it was probably best to play it safe. They weren’t in that much of a hurry, and things were going well at their current pace.

“How are you guys doing?” Kano asked, turning her head toward the children but keeping her eyes closed and focused on the energy.

“We’re fine,” said One, sounding perfectly calm.

So they’d already merged. Kano hoped they wouldn’t have to be like that for much longer. Once they were done with the reactor, they should be able to expend the energy fairly quickly, like they had when they tried to stop Werisah. Staying as they were for a little while shouldn’t be much of a problem. They’d stayed that way longer last time.

It was only as they were nearing the halfway point that Kano realized something was wrong. Despite working with more or less the same amount of space each time, each segment required her to divert more and more energy. The increase started off gradual, but now it was growing exponentially. Was the reactor somehow producing more energy? That didn’t make any sense. Was it possible An wasn’t actually making the catalysts inert? It didn’t seem possible that she could’ve made such a colossal mistake… Was she deliberately misleading Kano?

“Wait,” Kano said. “Let’s take a short break. I want to check something.” She strode over to An. “Do you realize that the energy in the reactor is only increasing?”

“Is it?” An turned back to the reactor, checking the readers. “It appears you’re right. How strange.”

“You really didn’t notice?” If it had been obvious to Kano, surely it had been obvious to the necromancer.

“I can see it clearly now that you mention it, but I was too occupied with my own task to notice before.”

“Why is the energy increasing? I thought the whole point of what you were doing was so the opposite would happen.”

“I’m not entirely sure. My best guess would be that the catalysts are releasing something as I neutralize them, and that’s increasing the reactor’s output. I don’t think it’s a problem. The effects should be short-lived.”

“What if there ends up being too much energy for me to divert, or the reactor explodes or something?” They both seemed like strong possibilities, assuming something even worse didn’t happen.

“It is what it is. If that happens, there’s no real way for us to prevent it. And either way, we’re better off finishing what we started, no?”

Did An really have so little regard for their lives? Not that Kano disagreed with her. For better or worse, all they knew for sure was that they couldn’t leave the reactor like this. Despite the risks, they had to keep going. “You’re right.”

Working quickly, they got through another large portion of the catalysts as the concentration of energy continued to build. If it showed up on the visual spectrum, Kano was sure it would be enough to blind someone. Even just sensing it was excruciatingly painful. But they were almost done. They just had to keep working.

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Kano repeated the same action, again and again, as she redirected as much energy as she felt comfortable handling. The children were absolutely saturated with it at this point, but they seemed to be holding up fine from what Kano could tell, and she didn’t have the attention free to spare them much thought.

They were getting close to finishing one of the last segments when Kano noticed nothing was happening to the remaining catalysts. Either An had stopped or whatever she was doing wasn’t working anymore. “An? What’s going on?”

“Give me a few seconds. I’m working on it. Wait, I think I’ve got it.”

“Well?” Kano asked when the catalysts remained functional.

“Err, it appears I can’t do it. It seems I was wrong about what the catalysts were doing when I neutralized them. Rather than releasing energy, they were releasing whatever it is that makes them work, which was then absorbed by the other catalysts.”

It definitely sounded bad, but Kano wasn’t seeing why An couldn’t keep working. “Can’t you just keep neutralizing them until they’re all gone?”

“As much as I’d like to, I don’t think that’s possible anymore. Trying to do so at this point is likely to set off a chain reaction that will likely destroy the whole thing. And make sure you don’t stop redirecting energy either. If the reactor fills up much more, the same thing is likely to happen.”

“What’re we supposed to do, then?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out. I think what I should have been doing is transferring whatever was inside the catalysts into something else, though I don’t know what.”

“Well, do that, then.”

“I can’t. Like I said, tampering with the catalysts at this point is too dangerous.”

“What other option do we have? It’s either that or we sit here and wait to die.”

“I know, I know,” An said, tugging on her hood as she frantically looked around the room. “There has to be something… If we had another reactor or something similar, I believe I could transfer them there. I might be able to build something like that if I had the time, but we’re rather short on that.”

Was that it, then? Had it all been for nothing? If only there was something they could adapt to function like a reactor, something else a necromancer had made. Unfortunately, none of An, Werisah, or Eomonsa’s creations were much like that. Barring possibly the machine Eomonsa and Werisah had made, but that was too far away. What else was there? And then it hit Kano. If they couldn’t adapt something to function as a reactor, then they needed something that could adapt itself.

“I’ve got an idea,” Kano said. “Go back to the lab and get Ren. I think she can help us.” She’d been able to copy the organisms that were keeping her alive. Maybe she could copy the reactor as well.

“Are you sure?”

“No. But unless you’ve got a better idea, hurry up and do as I say.”

Sighing, An said, “Very well.” She hurried from the room, black robes fluttering.

Now all Kano had to do until An got back was maintain the redirection. “Are you guys still alive?” she called to the children.

“Yes,” said One, unfazed.

That was probably about the best she could hope for under the circumstances. Now that she’d confirmed their relative safety, Kano tried to dismiss them and everything else from her mind. Standing motionless with her eyes closed in the silent room, the reactor and her sense of it became her whole world.

She was so absorbed that An’s arrival took her completely by surprise, and for a moment she lost her concentration. Chiding herself for overreacting, she resumed redirecting the energy. She split her attention between her task and explaining what she had in mind to Ren. It was only after she was done that Kano realized she was shaking from a combination of exhaustion and pain.

The blob sat on the floor, taking it all in before her copy of Kano replied, “That sounds pretty dangerous.”

“I know, but it has to be done.”

Ren titled her head. “Does it, though? I’m fairly sure I can survive whatever happens with the reactor. It has to be better odds than what you’re suggesting.”

For a moment, Kano’s concentration slipped again. What nonsense was Ren talking about now? “What about everyone else? Are you just going to let them die?”

“If I have to.”

“What about An and I? Think about all we’ve done for you.”

“Look, I realize you guys helped me, but that doesn’t mean I have to risk my life for you.”

Kano ground her teeth. How ungrateful could this stupid blob be? “If you’re going to act that way, what was even the point of freeing you?”

Ren shrugged. “How am I supposed to know? You’re the ones who did it. It’s not like I asked you to do it.”

It was a weak argument, given that Kano had only done it because Ren had made her desire for freedom quite clear. “Well, we did, and you were happy to be free. Don’t you think that’s worth repaying?”

“Sure, just not like this. If you’ve got something you want me to do that doesn’t involve risking myself, then I might be able to help you.”

What a useless suggestion. Of course there was nothing so convenient. Wasn’t Ren supposed to think like Kano did? If so, then why was she so unhelpful? She was nothing like Kano in that regard. Or at least, nothing like Kano was now. Now that Kano thought about it, she’d probably been just as bad in the past, if not worse. What had changed that? And how was she supposed to convey it to Ren?

“Why do you want to live so badly in the first place?” Kano asked. Not a great opening, but she had to start somewhere. “The way you are now, it doesn’t seem like you have much to look forward to, so what’re you even risking?”

“Do I need a reason? Wanting to live is a pretty basic impulse.”

“Yes. If you’re going to choose your life over the lives of other people, then you’d better have a good reason for doing it. Especially when they clearly have so much more to live for than you do.”

“Therefore I should shut up and sacrifice myself for their benefit? I don’t care about them at all. Why should their lives or reasons for living matter to me?”

Ren’s question was so against Kano’s current way of thinking that it took her a moment to comprehend it, while her concentration grew closer and closer to breaking completely from all the distractions of conversation. “Because we all have to live in this world together. There’s nothing to be gained from ignoring that or trying to cut yourself off.”

“It’s not like I chose to be like this,” Ren said, lowering her voice, “it’s just the way I feel. You should know that better than anyone.”

Ren was right. Kano knew what it felt like all too well. “That’s all the more reason to force yourself to care. Your life is basically pointless otherwise. Don’t you think?”

“It might be pointless, but I don’t see how caring would change that, other than to cut my life short. What’s going to happen if I did decide to care? I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t enjoy it or get anything out of it, other than having to do more things I don’t want to do.”

She was right about that. There was little to recommend this way of living as far as enjoyment went. At least for someone like Kano. “It doesn’t matter if you like it or not; that’s not what it’s about. It’s about doing what’s right. Don’t you care about that?”

“What’s right?” Ren echoed with a derisive laugh. “And how am I supposed to know that? It’s not like it’s written down somewhere.”

“It’s something you’ll have to decide for yourself. But can you honestly say that you think sacrificing all these other people just to preserve yourself is worth it?”

Slouching, Ren glared at Kano. “You’re really annoying, you know that? And I’m pretty sure what you just said is garbage, but I’ll do it.”

“What? Really?” She sounded serious, but Kano found her sudden turn rather hard to believe.

“Yeah. I guess we must both have a fondness for stupid garbage, like doing what’s ‘right.’”