The suit had a pill dispenser that even the minimal version of Por Qué could control. It kept her zip dosing on a schedule so she didn’t run out, but she was tempted to override it. Her seizures had added a vomit feature. She wondered if the microgravity caused it, or if her body had progressed to a new stage of disorder. She grew desensitized to the smell after the first four hours. The suit’s air filters couldn’t handle it. The seizures left her exhausted and drowsy. Sleep helped to pass the long, dull hours, too.

Welga’s spacecraft had a WAI, emphasis on Weak, but it was good enough to handle docking with the station. Luis had warned her to expect some gentle speed changes toward the end. Nothing strong enough to require straps.

So what the hell had just flung her into a wall of the crate?

Stupid zero-gravity environment made it impossible to intuit what had happened. Welga floated in the middle of the crate and tried not to hold her breath. She activated Por Qué, then told her agent to connect to the craft’s WAI.

“Por Qué, what is our vehicle’s status?”

“Speed has slowed due to an external factor. Present velocity is one point three kilometers per second.”

“What external factor?” Welga couldn’t keep irritation from her tone. The real Por Qué would’ve anticipated the question and answered it.

“Unknown.”

Welga growled. “I need more information!”

“Would you like to connect to the local network?”

If she’d been in gravity, she might have fallen over with surprise. What local network? Was she close enough to reach Eko-Yi’s comms?

“Yes, connect to the local network. What’s our distance to Eko-Yi Station?”

“Approximately thirty-five hundred kilometers. Unable to connect to the local network without authorization. Call request incoming. Unknown source. Do you accept?”

Welga attached her helmet, powered up the suit, and then accepted the call.

A face appeared in her visual: pale skin, light blue eyes, square jaw, and full lips, with a makeup job to die for. Rounded cheeks indicated youth. Light brown hair formed a halo warped by the wide angle of their camera lens.

“I am a dakini of Eko-Yi. I’ve come to inspect your vehicle. If you make any hostile moves, I will deploy my weapons.”

More than one dakini from there—that added to the theory that the station had created them. Welga wasn’t sure if they all used female pronouns. She kept the neutral in her head out of politeness.

They hadn’t shot the craft on sight, so she tried the sympathy angle.

“My name is Olga Ramírez, and I’m dying. I seek asylum and medical attention.”

“We know who you are, Officer Ramírez. We have your application. We last saw you with our sister, Khandro, and you looked well. Has something happened since then?”