I shall revise this damned thing this weekend. I have spoken.
I’m not really sure about the exact details, because I’m not a hardcore computer jockey and I was being distracted by the white-hot pain suddenly gashing behind my eyes. But the pain ended up working out for the best; [redacted] wasn’t expecting me to nearly spasm and seizure the hauler into the ground. I don’t know what he was planning to do, if I hadn’t reacted. Probably just finished our trip, and never say a word until the nanoswarm flayed the marrow from our bones.
But, instead, when I blinked away the agony, he had moved back to the other end of the cabin… and now had a gun. Amazingly, the first thing he said was, “Pam? Are you all right?”
I looked at him, in angry bafflement. “What do you care?” I said, and pointed to his gun. “I mean, obviously you’re the saboteur, right? The gun you’ve got is kind of diagnostic.”