Solo stares, open mouthed, at the woman who made us even as the Poppy who will be gestures at my sister. Something flies from her hand and Solo staggers back, gasping, grabbing at something sticking from her shoulder. For a heartbeat I rally-Mother's come to save me, to help me in my task.
But Solo is already laughing again, throwing aside the trank dart the woman used on her, gazing on her as though she's some prize Solo hadn't considered a possibility. "Hello, Mother," she says. "You'll have to do much better than that."
"One, you have to stop this." Mother wrings her hands, her old face a wealth of wrinkles, white hair now thin and wisping around her face. "Please, you must listen."