While loader bots filled the starboard hold with supplies and, outside, pipes funneled hydrogen into the Wallfish’s tanks, the crew swapped empty air canisters for full, removed waste, and replenished stores of water.

Kira helped as she could. Talk was limited on account of the work, but when the opportunity arose, she pulled Vishal aside, where the others couldn’t hear. “What happened with the Numenist?” she asked. “Is he okay?”

The doctor blinked, as if he’d forgotten. “The—Oh, you mean Bob.”

“Bob?” Somehow Kira had trouble imagining calling the purple-haired man Bob.

“Yes, yes,” said Vishal. He twirled a finger by his temple. “He was crazy as a spacebird, but other than that, he was fine. A few days’ rest and he’ll be as good as new. He did not seem to mind that you stabbed him.”

“No?”

The doctor shook his head. “No. It was a point of some pride with him, even though he promised to—and I quote here, Ms. Navárez—‘knock off her knobblestone head,’ end quote. I believe he meant it too.”

“I suppose I’ll have to keep an eye out for him,” Kira said, trying to sound as if everything were alright. But it wasn’t. She could still feel the spines of the Soft Blade sliding into the Numenist’s knotted flesh. She had done that. And this time, she couldn’t claim ignorance, as with her team on Adra.

“Indeed.”

Then they returned to readying the Wallfish for departure.

Soon afterward—so soon that it surprised Kira—Falconi was on the line to the UMC cruiser, saying, “We’re just waiting on you, Darmstadt. Over.”

After a moment, First Officer Koyich responded: “Roger that, Wallfish. Alpha Team will be there shortly.”

“Alpha Team?” Kira asked as Falconi ended the call. They were in the cargo hold, overseeing the last delivery of foodstocks.

He grimaced. “Akawe insisted on having some of his men on board to keep an eye on things. Nothing I could do about it. We’ll have to be ready in case they cause trouble.”

Nielsen said, “If there’s a problem, I’m sure we’ll be able to deal with it.” She gave Kira a hard glance and then fixed her gaze straight ahead.

Kira hoped she hadn’t made an enemy of the first officer. Either way, there wasn’t anything she could do about it; the situation was what it was. At least Nielsen wasn’t being actively unpleasant toward her.

Alpha Squad arrived a few minutes later: four Marines in exos, towing boxes of equipment wrapped in webbing. Accompanying them were loader bots carrying cryo tubes and several long, plastic crates. The lead Marine jetted over to Falconi, saluted, and said, “Lieutenant Hawes, sir. Permission to come aboard.”

“Permission granted,” said Falconi. He pointed. “There’s room for you in the port hold. Feel free to move whatever you need.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Then Hawes motioned with one hand, and a loader bot moved to the front, pushing a pallet with a containment bottle suspended from shock-absorbing springs within a metal frame.