“Yeah … You heard about the nightmares?”

“Sure did.” Sparrow gestured at the display. “I was just reading the reports. Real shame what happened to Ruslan’s beanstalk. If only they’d had a proper defense network, they might have been able to save it.”

Kira blew on her chell. “You were in the UMC, weren’t you?”

“UMCM, technically. Fourteenth division, Europa Command. Seven years enlisted. Ooh-rah, baby.”

“That’s how you got MilCom access.”

“You know it. Used my lieutenant’s old login.” A feral smile crossed Sparrow’s lips. “He was a bastard anyway.” She cleared the display with an unnecessarily violent swipe. “They really should change those codes more often.”

“So now you work security. Is that it? You don’t just pick things up and put them down.”

“No, not really.” Sparrow scratched her side. “Most days it’s pretty boring. Eat, shit, sleep, repeat. Sometimes it’s more exciting. Knock a few heads together, cover Falconi’s back when he’s making deals, keep an eye on the cargo when we’re docked. That sort of thing. It’s a living. Beats sitting in a VR tank, waiting to get old.”

Kira could relate. She’d felt much the same when deciding to pursue xenobiology as a career.

“And every once in a while,” said Sparrow, bright fire kindling in her eyes, “you end up at the pointy end of the knife, like we did yesterday, and then you get to find out what you’re made of. Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Sparrow studied her, serious. “Speaking of knocking heads together, I saw the video of what you did to Bob.”

Another small, quick pain lanced her abdomen. Kira ignored it. “You knew him?”

“I met him. Vishal had him in here, pissing and moaning while he got stitched up.… So what went wrong in the hold?”

“Falconi must have told you.”

Sparrow shrugged. “Sure, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

The surface of Kira’s chell was dark and oily. On it, she could see her face in a warped reflection. “Short version? I got hurt. I wanted it to stop. I lashed out. Or rather the Soft Blade lashed out for me.… It’s sometimes hard to tell the difference.”

“Were you angry? Did Bob’s idiot maneuver get under your skin?”

“… Yeah. It did.”

“Uh-huh.” Sparrow caught her gaze by pointing at Kira’s face. “That nose of yours must have caused you all sorts of pain when it broke.”

She touched it, self-conscious. “Have you broken yours?”

“Three times. Got it straightened out, though.”

Kira struggled to find the right words. “Look … Don’t take this the wrong way, Sparrow, but I really don’t see how you can help me with the xeno. I’m here because Falconi insisted, but—”

Sparrow cocked her head. “Do you know what the military does?”

“I—”

“Let me tell you. The military accepts everyone who volunteers, assuming they meet the basic requirements. That means, at one end of the spectrum, you get people who would just as soon cut your throat as shake your hand. And at the other end of the spectrum, you get people so timid they wouldn’t hurt a fly. And what the military does is teach both of them how and when to apply violence. That, and how to take orders.