“Can I?” she asked. “I don’t look human anymore. My legs are too long, my musculature is different, my eyes are too large, and my cheekbones are too sharp. With my pointed chin, I don’t look anything like Madison and Chaco’s kids. I’m alien. A whole new phenotype.”

“I think you look exotic,” Dek told her.

“Yeah, but you’re just as infected with TriNA as Talina and me. Can you imagine the impact I’d have walking down the main avenue in Port Authority? Me and Flute? We’d be shot down within seconds.” And that really grated deep down inside. They’d hated Rocket. And he still lived inside her.

“It’s not the same town it was back when you were there. We know a lot more about quetzals now, and Talina and I, we’ve had an impact. Actually, there’s a lot of speculation about you. People know that you and Flute saved Kalico and Private Muldare, and that you took down Batuhan. Not to mention the times you’ve worked as a scout for rescue parties.”

“I still don’t trust them.” But, at the same time, she felt a bit of excitement. Hard as it was to admit it to herself, since Tip had wandered off, she’d been at a loss. Sure, hanging around at Briggs’ place, teaching the little kids, filled some of the need, but a new sense of longing had been growing inside of her.

“What do you hear about Damien?” she asked as they sailed over a deep canyon in the basalt. He was her older brother and Rebecca Smart’s oldest son, now a geologist working with Lea Shimodi and employed by Kalico Aguila. He was doing minerals and mapping survey.

“He’s fine.” Dek shot her a knowing glance. “Kalico has him down at Southern Diggings logging core samples with Flip. Su asks about you. Kylee, your family understands. They don’t blame you for what happened to Rebecca and Shantaya.”

“Some sins can’t be erased, Dek.”

“No,” he agreed, “but they can be understood. And, once understood, they can be forgiven.”

If only it were that easy, she thought as the airplane arrowed its way east.

Chapter 4

  4  

Captain Margo Abibi was seated comfortably in the command chair in Turalon’s astrogation center, or AC. What once would have been called “the bridge” was the center of the ship’s navigation and operation. For hours now, Turalon had been taking readings, trying to refine her position relative to Capella III and to chart the most efficient course that would take Turalon to a satisfactory orbit.