Falconi noticed her gaze and met it with an even more direct look. He said, “One other thing. Since you’re the only person who’s going to be up and around—”

“Not much, if I can help it.”

“You’ll still be more functional than any of us. Since that’s the case, I’m naming you acting captain of the Wallfish while we’re in cryo.”

Kira was surprised. She started to say something, thought better of it, and then tried again: “Are you sure? Even after what happened?”

“I’m sure,” said Falconi firmly.

“Does that mean I’m part of the crew then?”

“I suppose it does. For the duration of the trip, at least.”

She considered the idea. “What sort of responsibilities does an acting captain have?”

“Quite a few,” he said, going over to his cryo tube. “It gives you executive access to certain systems. Override ability too. Might be needed in an emergency.”

“… Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He nodded. “Just don’t wreck my ship, Navárez. She’s all I’ve got.”

“Not all,” said Kira, and gestured at the frozen tubes.

A faint smile appeared on Falconi’s face. “No, not all.” She watched as he lowered himself into the tube, hooked up the drip to his arm, and attached the electrodes to his head and chest. He looked at her once more and gave her a small salute. “See you by the light of a strange star, Captain.”

“Captain.”

Then the lid closed over Falconi’s face, and silence settled over the shelter.

“Just you and me now, headcase,” said Kira, looking in the direction of Gregorovich’s sarcophagus.

“That too shall pass,” said the ship mind.

8.

Fourteen minutes later, the Wallfish went FTL.

Kira watched the transition on the display in her cabin. One moment a field of stars surrounded them; the next a dark mirror, perfectly spherical.

She studied the ship’s reflection for a long, wordless while and then closed the display and wrapped her arms around herself.

They were finally on their way.

EXEUNT II

1.

Outside the Wallfish, the Darmstadt was flying along a parallel course, swaddled in its own protective soap bubble of energy. Communication between ships in FTL was possible but difficult: the data rate was slow and lossy, and since they didn’t want to attract the attention of the Jellies or anyone else who might be listening, the only signals passing between them were an occasional ping to check the ships’ relative positions.

Inside the Wallfish, it was as quiet as Kira had feared.

She drifted along the dark corridors, feeling more like a ghost than a person.

Gregorovich was still awake and talking: a whispering presence that filled the hull but was poor substitute for face-to-face interaction with another person. Nevertheless, a poor substitute was better than nothing, and Kira was grateful for the company, strange as it was.

The ship mind needed to enter cryo himself. His oversized brain produced more heat than most people’s entire bodies. However, as he said, “I shall wait with you, O Tentacled Queen, until you sleep, and then I too shall sink into oblivion.”