Yes, thank you, Captain Obvious. Scooping meatballs into her bowl, Kira said, “What did the UMC say when you told them we were changing course?”

Falconi shrugged. “Well, they weren’t happy about it, I can tell you that.”

“Neither are our passengers,” said Nielsen, more to him than to Kira. “I just spent half an hour getting yelled at by everyone in the hold. The mood down there is pretty ugly.” The look she gave Kira suggested she blamed her for the trouble.

It wasn’t an unwarranted reaction, in Kira’s opinion.

Falconi picked at his teeth with a nail. “Noted. Gregorovich, make sure you keep a closer eye on them from now on.”

“Yesssssir,” the ship mind answered, his voice unnervingly sibilant.

Kira took her bowl and sat on the nearest free chair, facing the Zarian. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name before,” Kira said.

The Zarian regarded her with a flat expression and then blinked once. “Were you the one who patched the holes at the back of the shuttle?” Her voice was calm and vast.

“I did my best.”

The woman grunted and looked back at her food.

Okay then, Kira thought. So the crew weren’t going to welcome her with open arms. That was fine. She’d been the outsider on most of her postings. Why would it be any different now? She just had to put up with them until Malpert Station. After that, she’d never have to deal with the Wallfish crew again.

Then Trig said, “Hwa is the best machine boss this side of Sol.”

At least the kid seemed friendly.

The Zarian frowned. “Hwa-jung,” she said firmly. “My name is not Hwa.”

“Aww. You know I can’t pronounce it right.”

“Try.”

“Hwa-yoong.”

The machine boss shook her head. Before she could speak again, Sparrow came over and dropped into Hwa-jung’s lap. She leaned back against the larger woman, and Hwa-jung wrapped an arm around her waist in a possessive manner.

Kira raised an eyebrow. “So you pick up heavy things and put them down, huh?” At the other table, she thought she heard a suppressed snort from Falconi.

Sparrow matched her expression, cocking one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “So your hearing works. Good for you.” And she craned her neck to give Hwa-jung a peck on the cheek. The machine boss made a sound, as if annoyed, but Kira saw her lips curve in a small smile.

Kira took the opportunity to start eating. The meatballs were warm and rich, with just the right mixture of thyme, rosemary, salt, and a few other things she couldn’t identify. Were those tomatoes fresh? She closed her eyes, luxuriating in the taste. It had been so long since she’d had anything but dehydrated, pre-packaged food.

“Mmm,” she said. “Who made this?”

Vishal lifted his head. “You like it that much?”

She opened her eyes and nodded.

For a moment, the doctor seemed conflicted, and then a modest smile split his face. “I’m glad. Today was my day to cook.”