The mocking smile never left Falconi’s lips but his eyes hardened into spikes of blue ice. “I believe you, Ms. Kaminski. However, if you think I’m going to meet with you all on my own, with no witnesses, you must think I was a born idiot. They stay. That’s final.”

Behind her, Kira heard the muscled woman readjust her grip on the slug thrower.

Kira pressed her lips together, trying to decide whether she could force the issue. There didn’t seem to be any way, so finally, she caved. “Fine,” she said. “Can you close the door at least?”

Falconi nodded. “I think we can manage that. Sparrow?”

The woman who had accompanied Kira pulled the pressure door shut, although she left it unlatched and unlocked—easy to open in an emergency.

“Well? What is it, then?” Falconi said.

Kira took a breath. “My name isn’t Kaminski. It’s Kira Navárez. And this isn’t a skinsuit. It’s an alien organism.”

2.

Falconi burst out laughing so loudly that he disturbed Runcible; the pig snorted and looked up at his master with what seemed to be a worried expression.

“Riiight,” Falconi said. “Good one. That’s real funny, Ms.…” His smile vanished as he studied her face. “You’re serious.”

She nodded.

A click sounded next to her, and out of the corner of her eye, Kira saw Sparrow aiming the slug thrower at her head.

“Can you not do that,” said Kira, her voice tight. “Seriously, it’s a really bad idea.” Already she could feel the Soft Blade preparing itself for action across her body.

Falconi waved a hand, and Sparrow reluctantly lowered the gun. “Prove it.”

“Prove what?” said Kira, confused.

“Prove that it’s an alien artifact,” he said, pointing at her arm.

Kira hesitated. “Just promise you won’t shoot, okay?”

“That depends,” Sparrow growled.

Then Kira coaxed the suit’s mask into sliding across her face. She did it slower than normal, to avoid frightening anyone, but even so, Falconi stiffened, and Nielsen half pulled her blaster out of its holster.

Runcible looked at Kira with large, wet eyes. His snout wiggled as he sniffed in her direction.

“Goddamn,” said Sparrow.

After a few seconds, when her point was made, Kira allowed the Soft Blade to relax, and the mask retreated, exposing her face again. The air in the cabin was cool against her newly exposed skin.

Falconi remained very still. Too still. Kira was worried; what if he decided to just space her and be done with it?

Then he said, “Explain. And you better make it good, Navárez.”

So Kira started talking. For the most part she told the truth, but instead of admitting it was the Soft Blade that had killed Alan and her other teammates on Adra, she put the blame on the Jellies’ attack—partly to avoid frightening Falconi, and partly because she didn’t want to discuss her own role in the event.

When she finished, there was a long silence in the cabin.

Runcible grunted and wiggled, trying to get down. Falconi put the pig on the floor and pushed him toward the door. “Let him out. He needs to use the box.”