“Are you okay?” I asked.

He shrugged his good shoulder. “I’m fine. They’re building me a new arm. Last one was unsalvageable.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say, so I didn’t say anything and we fell into an awkward silence. But we didn’t have awkward silences, the two of us; that had never been our way. Baqir was fiddling with the belt of his hospital robe, and I could not stop looking at him.

“You know,” he said, “I thought that smashing two fucking huge spaceships together was going to be the most insane thing your family did this week, but I think your aunt has outdone you.”

“What? What did she . . .” Then I understood. I struggled to sit up. “She released the data from House of Wisdom.”

“You knew she was going to?”

“It was my idea.”

“I . . . don’t think I am exactly surprised by that,” he said. “For fuck’s sake, Jas. They’re going to be all over you. The investigators and journalists and—everybody. They’re never going to leave you alone.”

“I know,” I said.

And I did. I did know, but even so, the prospect of having to tell the story—everything I would have to reveal—every accusation I would have to face—every warning I would have to give—it all began to drum at the medicated haze of my mind like the first dangerous rain of the monsoon. My breath was short, my heart fast, my thoughts suddenly racing.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that,” Baqir said. “Jas, come on, breathe. It’ll be all right.”

He took my hand and held on tight. I closed my eyes and focused on the touch of his hand, imagined that warmth spreading through me, melting an invisible frost that coated my veins and clung to my bones. He moved his hand and I thought he was leaving—already tired of my company, and I didn’t have the energy to blame him—but he did not stand. He lifted my hand and kissed the palm softly. My eyes snapped open, and he pressed a second kiss to my hand, right where the fingers met the palm, then lowered our joined hands to the bed again.

He said, “If I hadn’t been so fucked up, I would have realized what you were doing when you put us on that ship. I should have realized you never meant to follow us.”

I held my breath for a moment—forced myself to let it out. My eyes felt hot but I did not look away. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“Yeah, I got that, but I should have anyway. I know you. I know everything about you.” A pause. “Well. Almost everything.”

I couldn’t figure out what that tone meant, somewhere between sad and frustrated, amused and relieved. “I didn’t want you to know,” I said again.

“I know,” Baqir said. “Because I know you’re an idiot. And I’m really fucking angry about—about all of this. Everything. All of them, for what they did. And pretty angry at you too. But I’m also so fucking grateful that she didn’t let you kill yourself.”