Sparrow dropped flat on the bench, a small blaster appearing in her hands. All emotion had vanished from her face, replaced by the flat-eyed intensity of someone about to fight for their life.

In that instant, Kira realized the woman’s bravado was just that—a cover—and that she was treating Kira with the same caution as a live grenade.

The skin around Sparrow’s eyes tightened with pain as she pushed herself back up. “As I said, you need practice. Discipline.” She tucked the blaster into a pocket in her slacks.

By the bulkhead, Kira saw what Sparrow had thrown at her: a white therapy ball.

“Sorry,” said Kira. “I—”

“Don’t bother, Navárez. We know what the problem is. That’s why you’re here. That’s what we have to fix.”

Kira ran a hand over the curve of her skull. “You can’t fix the instinct for self-preservation.”

“Oh yes we can!” Sparrow snapped. “That’s what separates us from the animals. We can choose to go out and march for thirty klicks with a heavy ruck on our back. We can choose to put up with all sorts of unpleasant shit because we know our tomorrow selves will thank us for it. Doesn’t matter what kind of mental gymnastics you have to pull in that mush you call a brain, but there is sure as shit a way to keep from overreacting when you get surprised. For fuck’s sake, I saw Marines out drinking their morning coffee while our point-defense was picking off an ass-load of incoming missiles, and they were the coolest, calmest motherfuckers I ever saw. Had a little poker game going with bets to see how many missiles would get through. So if they could do it, you sure as hell can, even if you are bonded with an alien parasite.”

Somewhat abashed, Kira nodded, took a breath, and with a concerted effort, smoothed the last few bumps on the Soft Blade. “You’re right.”

Sparrow jerked her head. “You’re damn right I’m right.”

Then just because, Kira asked, “What sort of drugs did Vishal pump into you?”

“Not enough, that’s for sure.… Let’s try something different.”

Then Sparrow put her on the treadmill and had her alternate between running sprints and attempting to coax the Soft Blade into performing certain tasks (mainly reshaping itself according to Sparrow’s instructions). Kira found she couldn’t concentrate past her panting and the pounding of her heart; the distractions were too great, and they kept her from imposing her will upon the Soft Blade. Moreover, sometimes the xeno would attempt to interpret what she wanted—like an overeager assistant—which usually resulted in it shooting out farther than she intended. But fortunately not with blades or spikes, and not so far as to endanger Sparrow (who nevertheless stayed as far away as the meager area would allow).

For over an hour, the ex-Marine worked Kira over, testing her as thoroughly as Vishal and Carr had. But not just testing, training. She pushed Kira to explore the limits of the Soft Blade and of her interface with the alien organism, and when she found those limits, to strain against them until they widened.