“I know,” I said quietly.

“No, Jas,” she said, finally turning to face me, “I don’t think you do. Do you want to know why I haven’t been invited to very many Councils meetings over the last couple of days? It’s a bit embarrassing, I’m afraid. I grew rather . . . heated in my response when Councilor Nyman suggested the doctors wake you prematurely to interrogate you.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I only said, “I’ve never liked him.”

“He’s a boorish, insufferable prick,” my aunt said. “Jas, I did not think a young woman who’s spent more than half her life on a desert homestead could have figured out how to revive the ship’s engines and set such a carefully calculated course. I knew who had come up with the plan from the very moment it became clear.”

“Mum’s engines didn’t need any help.” My voice was hoarse. “They fired up like they’d never gone cold.”

“Oh, of course they did,” Aunt Padmavati said, with a breathy exhalation that was almost a laugh. “As though Amita would have accepted anything less. Do you know what they’ll say about you, if the truth is revealed? If you become known as the one who destroyed humanity’s first chance at communicating with alien life? Do you know what they’ll say about your mother? Some people will understand, but others won’t. Others will only see the destruction and the death. They won’t see what was saved.”

I sat up, ignoring the twinges of pain, and reached for her hand.

“Auntie, I knew exactly what I was doing. So did Mum.”

She squeezed my hand and smiled sadly. “Jas . . .”

“And what happens if the Councils cover it up?” I asked. “They’re going to search the wreck for everything they can. If any part of the parasite survives, and they aren’t warned, it will happen again. There will be another massacre. They’ll find somebody else to blame. And it might happen here in Armstrong, or down on Earth. We might not be able to stop it.”

Her lips were a thin, worried line, but she did not deny it.

“I knew what I was doing,” I said again. “We have to tell them. Release the data to the public. Let everyone know what happened and why.”

“The Councils will never agree to that, but we—”

“So don’t ask them! You’ve done it before! I know you weren’t supposed to give me any of the ship’s data when I was all of fourteen years old, but you did it anyway. You can—”

“Jaswinder,” my aunt said calmly, the corners of her lips rising. “Please don’t interrupt me. I was saying the Councils will never agree to that, but we don’t have to ask their permission.”

“Oh.” I slumped back into my pillow. “No. We don’t.”

“I won’t be able to shield you as I did before,” my aunt said. “You’re not a child anymore. You’ll have to testify before the Councils. You’ll be asked to tell your story over and over again. They won’t allow you silence, not this time.”