“So…,” I said, licking my fingers, “what do you guys do all night?”

“Sleep?” Hurl asked.

“For twelve hours?”

“Well, there’s PT,” FM said. “We do laps in the pool usually, though Hurl prefers the weights. And target practice with sidearms, or extra time in the centrifuge…”

“I still haven’t thrown up in that,” Hurl said, “which is, in my opinion, completely inappropriate.”

“Hurl taught us wall-ball,” Kimmalyn said. “It’s fun to watch her play the boys. They always take it as an invigorating challenge.”

“By which she means it’s satisfying to watch Nedd lose,” FM said. “He seems so befuddled every time…” She trailed off, perhaps realizing that they’d never get to see him play again.

My stomach twisted. Swimming. Target practice. Sports? I’d known what I was missing, but hearing it like that…

“We won’t be expected to do any of that tonight,” Kimmalyn said. “Since we’re sick. It will be fun, Spin! We can stay up all night talking.”

“About what?” I asked.

“Normal things,” FM said, shrugging.

What was normal? “Like… guys?”

“Stars, no,” Hurl said, sitting up and pulling something off her headboard. She held up a sketchbook filled with little drawings of ships going through patterns. “Flight strategies!”

“Hurl keeps trying to name new moves after herself,” FM noted. “But we figure the ‘Hurl maneuver’ really ought to have several loops in it or something. Like the one here.”

“I hate loops,” Hurl said. “We should call that the Quirk maneuver. It’s flowery.”

“Don’t be silly,” Kimmalyn said. “I’d somehow end up crashing into myself if I had to do that many loops.”

“A Quirk maneuver would involve complimenting the enemy while you shoot them,” FM said, grinning. “ ‘Oh! You make lovely sparks when you die! You should feel very proud of yourself. Good job!’ ”

My tension bled away as the girls showed off the maneuvers they’d designed. The names were consistently terrible, but the chatter was fun, engaging, and… well, just so very welcome. I took a turn sketching an obscenely complex maneuver into the book, something between an Ahlstrom loop and a double switchback with a sidewind.

“Crazy thing is,” FM said, “she could probably pull that off.”

“Yeah,” Kimmalyn said. “Maybe we could rename taking off the Quirk maneuver. That’s the only thing I can manage consistently.”

“You’re not nearly as bad as that,” Hurl said to her.

“I’m the worst pilot in the flight.”

“And the best shot.”

“Which matters zero if I die before I can fire back.”

I grunted, hand still on Hurl’s notebook. I turned to another page. “Quirk is a great sniper, and Hurl, you’re excellent at chasing down Krell ships. FM, you’re excellent at dodging.”

“I can barely hit the broad side of a mountain though,” FM said. “I guess if you somehow mashed us all together, you’d have one good pilot.”

“Couldn’t we try something like that?” I said, sketching. “Cobb says that the Krell are always on the lookout for pilots who distinguish themselves. He says that if they find someone they think might be flightleader, they concentrate all fire on that person.”