He hadn’t. His pale face glimmered back at her from the vent. He was doing something, the white text from his jacket visible, then obscured by a bunch of cables. There was a blue flash, then the Klichka blocked her view, his mouth a thin line. His right eye was shut, purple swelling obscuring the pupil. He would kill her now, apologize later. Alice still had the knife in her left arm scabbard; if he got close, she—