Then Di stopped. He reached his hand up as if to grab the ship. Robb felt a shift—brief, like a magnetic pull— And Di snapped his fingers. The chip in his wrist lurched. Robb clutched it with a cry, dropping to his knees. Pain, swirling, throbbing, raced up his swordfighting arm as the chip grew brighter. And brighter. Blazing like the sun through his skin. He screamed. Pain curled up around his shoulder, seized hold of his heart, and squeezed. It squeezed so hard he barely felt it when the chip burned away the nerves in his wrist. When it tore apart the blood vessels in his hand. When it
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I'm about to cry!
