Kira thought so. But she felt so detached from anything tangible that she didn’t trust her own judgment.

Not so long now.…

Not so long.…

PART THREE

APOCALYPSIS

In the villa of Ormen, in the villa of Ormen

Stands a solitary candle, ah ah, ah ah

In the center of it all, in the center of it all

Your eyes

On the day of execution, on the day of execution

Only women kneel and smile, ah ah, ah ah

At the center of it all, at the center of it all

Your eyes

Your eyes

Ah ah ah

Ah ah ah

—DAVID BOWIE

CHAPTER I

PAST SINS

1.

This time, instead of the alarm, a slow dawning of light drew Kira toward wakefulness.

She opened her eyes. At first no concern troubled her; she lay where she was, feeling calm and rested, content to wait. Then she saw the cat sitting by her feet: a whitish-grey Siamese with ears half-flattened and eyes slightly crossed.

The cat hissed and jumped down to the deck.

“Kira, can you hear me?… Kira, are you awake?”

She turned her head and saw Falconi sitting next to her. The skin around his mouth was green, as if he’d been sick, and his face was drawn and hollow-eyed. He smiled at her. “Welcome back.”

With a rush, her memory returned: the Wallfish, FTL, the Jellies, the Staff of Blue …

Kira let out a cry and tried to bolt upright. Pressure around her chest and arms stopped her.

“It’s safe,” said Falconi. “You can come out now.” He rapped a knuckle against her shoulder.

She looked down and saw a featureless sheath of black fibers encasing her body, holding her in place. Let me go! Kira thought, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. She wrenched her shoulders from side to side and let out another cry.

With a dry, slithery sound, the Soft Blade relaxed its protective embrace and unwound the hard shell it had formed around her. A small cascade of dust slid from her sides and onto the floor, sending grey curlicues into the air.

Falconi sneezed and rubbed his nose.

Kira’s muscles protested as she levered herself off the mattress and carefully sat upright. She had weight again: a welcome sensation. She tried to talk, but her mouth was too dry; all that came out was a frog-like croak.

“Here,” said Falconi, and handed her a water pouch.

She nodded, grateful, and sucked on the straw. Then she tried again. “Did … did we make it?” Her voice was rough from disuse.

Falconi nodded. “More or less. The ship has a few service alerts, but we’re in one piece. Happy New Year and welcome to 2258. Bughunt is just ahead.”

“Bughunt?”

“It’s what the Marines are calling the star.”

“Are there … are there any Jellies or nightmares in the system?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

Relief, then, that they’d managed to beat the aliens. “Good.” Kira realized the Bach concertos were still playing. “Computer, music off,” she said, and the speakers fell silent. “How long, since…”