Kira shook her head, put down her cup, and followed.

At the central shaft, Sparrow slid an arm through the center of the crutch and started to climb down the ladder, careful in her movements. She grimaced with obvious discomfort. “Thank god for painkillers,” she said.

Down the shaft they went, to the bottom deck. There, Sparrow led Kira into the port cargo hold.

Kira hadn’t seen much of it before. It mirrored the layout of the starboard hold, the main difference being the racks of supplies and equipment bolted to the floor. The four Marines had taken over a section between the aisles. There, they’d set up their suits of power armor, as well as their cryo tubes, sleeping bags, and various hard-cases of weapons and Thule knew what else.

At the moment, Hawes was doing pull-ups on a bar placed between two of the racks while the other three Marines were practicing throws and disarms on a patch of clear deck. They paused and straightened up when they noticed Kira and Sparrow.

“Yo, yo,” said one of the men. He had thick, dark eyebrows and lines of blue script in some language Kira didn’t recognize tattooed up and down the muscles of his bare arms. The tattoos shifted as he moved, like long waves on water. He pointed at Sparrow. “You were the one what got perforated by the Jelly, yeah?”

“That’s right, Marine.”

Then he pointed at Kira. “And you were the one what perforated the Jelly right quick, yeah?”

Kira dipped her head. “Yeah.”

For a moment she wasn’t sure how the man was going to react. Then he broke into a big smile. His teeth glittered with implanted nanowires. “Well done. Most excellent!” He gave them both a big thumbs-up.

One of the other Marines approached them. He was shorter, with huge shoulders and hands nearly as big as Hwa-jung’s. Looking at Kira, he said, “That means you’re the reason we’re off on this crazy-ass trip.”

She lifted her chin. “Afraid so.”

“Hey, not complaining. If it gets us the jump on the Jellies, I’m all for it. You convinced old man Akawe, so you’re good by me.” He held out one of his paw-like hands. “Corporal Nishu.”

Kira shook. His grip felt like it could crush rocks. “Kira Navárez.”

The corporal jerked his chin toward the tattooed Marine. “This ugly lug is Private Tatupoa. That one over there is Sanchez”—he pointed at a thin-faced Marine with mournful eyes—“and of course you met the lieutenant.”

“Yes I did.” Kira shook with Tatupoa and Sanchez, and said, “Pleased to meet you. Glad you’re on board.” She wasn’t sure if she was, but it was the right thing to say.

Sanchez said, “Any idea what to expect when we arrive at this system, ma’am?”

“The Staff of Blue, I hope,” said Kira. “Sorry I can’t tell you any more. That’s all I know myself.”

Then Hawes came over. “Alright, that’s enough, everyone. Let the ladies be. I’m sure they’re busy.”