“I’m keeping fit,” says Fin. He flashes to the push-ups he failed to complete but tamps the memory down.

“Good. I want you to listen to this.”

This is Captain Michelle “Shell” Campion of the starship Ragtime. I’m code 4717, repeat: 4717. Contaminant on board, possible contagion. Passengers still in Ragtime Dreamstate. Do not send shuttles for passengers until you hear further. Campion out.

“Where’s it from?” asks Fin.

“Earth.” Unwin studies Fin’s face. “What do you think?”

Fin squints. “I think we should be hearing from the AI, not a human. Don’t the Earth AIs fly interstellar missions?”

“They do,” says Unwin. “We’re thinking it’s failed and Campion took over.”

“Ship AIs don’t fail, as far as I know, but I’ll take your word for it,” Fin says. “If that’s the case, they didn’t follow protocol, so they have measles.”

“No; ‘4717’ isn’t the code for contamination,” says the thin man.

Fin swivels his chair to face him. “What’s it code for?”

“Untimely deaths. Multiple untimely deaths.”

“Untimely death from disease. Like measles.”

“Maybe.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Fin looks from Unwin to the thin man.

“Sebel Malaika. Space Command. I’m friends with Gerald.” He smiles.

Fin nods and wonders again why he is here. “How experienced is Campion?”

“This is her first interstellar,” says Malaika.

Fin kisses his teeth. “She might have made mistakes with the code.”

“Maybe, but unlikely. That message is on repeat, and it’s a broadcast. We think the ‘contagion’ part of the speech is for others, but the code is for us. She wants to discourage tourists.”

“Or she’s panicked and made a mistake with the code,” says Fin.

“Either way, we can’t risk bringing exotic diseases to Bloodroot. We don’t want to become another Nightshade,” says Unwin.

“It wasn’t disease that did in Nightshade.” Fin leans back in his chair. “Why am I here? I’m suspended.”

Unwin says, “We’re considering you for an assignment. We want you to go up there.”

“You what?”

“Don’t get excited. This is fact finding only. No repatriation involved. No fighting, no shooting,” says Unwin. “Definitely no pyrotechnics.”

“We want to send you up in a shuttle. You have a look around, talk to Campion. If everything’s okay we come and get the passengers on your signal,” says Malaika.

“I’m a repatriator, not a spaceman,” says Fin. When they mentioned an assignment, he thought they meant doing an IFC dive to mine for incriminating data, which Fin is good at, and has been doing on the sly as a favour to colleagues. He does not want to fly off into the Brink. “I don’t like space.”

“You’ve been to space twice,” says Unwin.