“I didn’t know if the shunts would hold.”

“They’ll dissolve soon and his normal blood flow will come back. If he’s lucky his muscles won’t be necrotic and he’ll be able to keep his arms.”

“And if he’s not lucky?”

“If he’s not lucky, then fuck him, he tried to put a bomb in my ship.”

“And kill me,” Marce reminded her.

“Right,” Kiva said.

“What if it hadn’t worked?”

“You mean, what if they figured out that was Chat on the gurney while we were still there?”

“Yes.”

“I had a backup plan.”

“What? Run?”

“No. I’d give them you.”

“What?” Marce looked at Kiva, shocked.

Kiva looked back. “Don’t look at me like that. Why do you think I had you go? Because I like your company?”

“I thought I was one of your people now.”

“Yeah, but you’re new,” Kiva said. “And there were a whole lot of other people to think about.”

Marce didn’t say anything else to Kiva for the short remainder of the journey.

As they exited the shuttle on the Yes, Sir and the ship accelerated away from the Red Rose, Marce received a ping on his tablet: a forwarded message from Vrenna.

Tracked down that thing you asked. Sjo Tinnuin heard the rumor from a friend who works for the House of Nohamapetan. Says the Nohamapetans have been paying for navigational data from ships for the last couple of years.

It sounds like maybe they’re seeing some of the same things we see. I don’t know what that means for us, but I don’t think it means anything good.

Be careful out there. Miss you already.

—V

Kiva tapped Marce on the shoulder. He looked up from his tablet. “Come with me,” she said.

“I’m tired,” Marce said, putting his tablet away.

“Do you honestly think you’re going to sleep until we’re in the Flow and these pirates are well fucking behind us? Come on.” She walked out of the shuttle bay. Marce stared after her and followed.

Presently they came to Kiva’s cabin. Marce entered and was immediately jealous. “You have a room the size of a room,” he said to Kiva, who had entered the room behind him. He stared at the immense expanse of the wall in front of him, which featured schedules, notes, and personal photos.

“Of course I do,” Kiva said. “My family owns the ship. I’m the owner’s representative. You think they’re going to put me in a fucking bunk?”

“No, I suppose not. It’s just funny.”

“It’s not that funny.”

“Says the woman who doesn’t sleep in a bunk the size of a coffin.”

“Well, you won’t be sleeping there tonight, anyway.”

“What?” Marce turned and Kiva was entirely undressed.

“Let’s get laid,” she said, to Marce.