It was a machine shop, small and cramped—stuffed with more pieces of equipment than Kira recognized—but impeccably organized. The scent of solvents stung her nose, and the smell of ozone put a bitter, nickel-like taste on her tongue.

“Warning, some chemicals are known by the League of Allied Worlds to cause cancer,” said Hwa-jung as she edged sideways between the different machines.

“That’s easy enough to treat,” said Kira.

Hwa-jung chuckled. “They still require the disclaimers. Bureaucrats.” She stopped by a wall of drawers at the back of the shop and slapped them. “Here. Powdered metals, polycarbonates, organic substrates, carbon fiber, more. All the raw stock you could need.”

“Is there anything I shouldn’t take?”

“Organics. Metals are easy to replace; organics are harder, more expensive.”

“Okay. I’ll avoid them.”

Hwa-jung shrugged. “You can take some. Just not too much. Whatever you do, do not cross-contaminate—with any of these. It will ruin whatever we make with them.”

“Gotcha. I won’t.”

Then she showed Kira how to unlock the drawers and open the storage packs inside. “You understand now, yes? I will go and see if I can print what you want.”

“Thank you.”

As Hwa-jung left, Kira dipped her fingers into a mound of powdered aluminum while at the same time telling the xeno: Eat.

If it did, she couldn’t tell.

She sealed the pack, closed the drawer, cleaned her hand with a wet wipe from the dispenser on the wall, and—once her skin was dry—tried the same thing with the powdered titanium.

Drawer by drawer, she worked her way through the ship’s supplies. The suit seemed to absorb little to none of the metals; it had apparently sated most of its hunger during the night. However, it displayed a distinct preference for some of the rarer elements, such as samarium, neodymium, and yttrium, among others. Cobalt and zinc, too. To her surprise, it ignored all the biological compounds.

When Kira was finished, she left the machine shop with Hwa-jung still there working—bent over the control display for the ship’s main printer—and returned to the galley.

Kira fixed herself a late breakfast, which she ate at a leisurely pace. It was nearly noon, and she was already wiped from the day’s events. Sparrow’s training—if it could be called that—had taken a serious toll.

Her abdomen twinged again, and she grimaced. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

She looked up as Nielsen walked in. The first officer got herself some food from the fridge and then sat opposite Kira.

They ate in silence for a time.

Then Nielsen said, “You’ve set us on a strange path, Navárez.”

Eat the path. “Can’t argue with you there.… Does it bother you?”

The woman set down her fork. “I’m not happy that we’ll be gone for over six months, if that’s what you’re asking. The League is going to be in serious trouble by the time we get back, unless through some miracle, these attacks let off.”

“But we might be able to help, if we find the Staff of Blue.”