A burst of sound startled him as the Vid powered on. He glanced at the screen, then at the remote in his hand. He hadn’t done that. Or he hadn’t wanted to, at least not consciously. Had his hand developed a life of its own? Or was he just that distracted?

But the Vid was showing a news program, and those had become increasingly interesting lately. So far, ICDC and Navy security appeared to have kept a cap on things, but you couldn’t hide the fact that a bunch of ICDC personnel had just high-tailed it for Lagrange Four, or that ICDC and Navy Public Relations were now operating in Content-Free Mode, where nothing was said using many words.

Come to think of it, some of the commentary sounded way too close to be random guesses. The word “alien” had been used several times, and there was no reason to jump to that conclusion. Unless there’d been a leak…

What would it mean for his family if the public got hold of the facts? Nothing good, certainly. Guilt by association was still a thing, even in this age of supposed enlightenment. The New Liberation hadn’t actually improved humanity, so much as defined hard limits on what could be imposed on citizens by government, law enforcement, or military.

Ivan turned off the Vid and lay down, his hands behind his head, and tried to relax. Without prompting, an image of a bear cub popped into his head. And there it is again. Why would—

The beep of the intercom interrupted his train of thought. He pressed the accept button.

“Hello, Ivan,” said the voice of Dante Aiello. “We’re going to be announcing spin-down and deceleration in a few minutes. The captain has ordered you to remain in your quarters for the duration. One person still in the hab ring isn’t going to create a problem, and it’s probably better if you don’t—”

“Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t show up in the common room and freak out the other crew. I’ve had a taste of that, thanks. I’m good here.”

“Thanks, Ivan. And, sorry. I know this is hard on you.” The light went out on the intercom.

It’s nice to be wanted, isn’t it?

29.Arrival

29.Arrival

Dr. Narang examined the personnel module, hanging in the heavens a few hundred meters away. You had to hand it to the Navy, they did things right. The module consisted, essentially, of the hab ring from a typical Navy ship—minus the ship. It looked like nothing so much as a giant floating coin with a stick poked through the center. Concentric layers featured decreasing gravity levels as one approached the hub.

“That way, we use standard parts,” Lt. Bentley explained. “And training is kept to a minimum. Someone used to a frigate will be able to find their way around the module right away.”