“Hey, Michaela, we’re way off the map here. Whatever these things growing down the side of the kid’s neck are, it’s like nothing recorded so far on Donovan. It’s something new. And I don’t have a clue about how to reverse this, let alone get this kid out of his coma.”

“What about an antihistamine? Something to reduce inflammation? A steroid or something that would make the swelling go down?”

“You’re assuming it’s glandular, maybe—”

“Hell, I don’t know. I’m grasping at straws here. But, screw me with an ion, it’s worth a try.”

“Okay, you got it.” A pause. “Call Yosh and Mikoru?”

“They just put Breez to bed. Given Kevina and Felix’s problems, they took her. The little girl still hasn’t realized that her moms are gone forever. Let the kid sleep. Hell, maybe by morning the swelling will be down, and we’ll have all caught a lucky break.”

“Yeah . . . maybe.” But Gabarron didn’t look like she believed it for a minute.

57

Felix came awake. Or it seemed like he did. He should have been asleep. In his bed. That was the last thing he remembered: Mother, that sad look in her eyes, the quivering of her lips, as she tucked him in.

She had undressed, laying her clothes out on the chest of drawers as she always did, pants and shirt folded neatly. She had pinned her golden hair up. On the ship, where most shaved their heads, she’d kept her hair long. Said it was an “affectation.” Whatever that was. She used to leave it down when she and Yee were going to do the sex thing.

Felix had watched as she pulled her blanket back and folded her long legs into the bedding. Her face working, she’d turned off the light. For a while it was quiet and dark. Then Felix had heard Mother crying softly.

He had thought about slipping out of bed, of climbing in with her, holding her. That maybe that would have made things all right. But he missed Father, too. Wondered if crawling in where Father had slept would be wrong. Like he was trying to take Father’s place. And doing so might hurt Mother even worse than she was.

He’d been thinking that when he fell asleep. And he should have been in his bed. That was the last thing he remembered.

But now, as his mind began to work, he was standing in the Pod’s kitchen. And he could hear things. Things he’d never heard before, like the waves washing against the pilings down below. And deep thrumming, an almost musical sound. Then he realized the slight whisper was the wind around the landing pad two floors up.

Weird. He’d never heard those things before.

“You will hear a great many things, even more than you can now.”

The Voice was right.