In an attempt to distract her, Kira said, “So how did you end up on the Wallfish, then—so far away from your family?”

Nielsen studied the reflections in her cup. “Lots of reasons.… The publishing company I worked for declared bankruptcy. New management restructured, fired half the staff, canceled our pensions.” Nielsen shook her head. “Twenty-eight years spent working for them, all gone. The pension was bad enough, but I lost my health coverage, which was a problem given my, ah, particular challenges.”

“But isn’t—”

“Of course. Basic access is guaranteed, as long as you’re a citizen in good standing. Even sometimes if you’re not. But basic coverage isn’t what I needed.” Nielsen glanced at Kira from the corner of her eyes. “And now you’re wondering just how sick I am and whether it’s contagious.”

Kira raised an eyebrow. “Well, I assume Falconi wouldn’t have let you on board if you were carrying some deadly, flesh-eating bacteria.”

The other woman nearly laughed, and then she pressed a hand against her chest and made a pained face. “It’s not that dire. At least not for anyone else.”

“Are you—I mean, is it terminal?”

“Life is terminal,” said Nielsen dryly. “Even with STEM shots. Entropy always wins in the end.”

Kira raised her cup. “To the Entropists, then. May they find a way to reverse the time-ordered decay of all things.”

“Hear, hear.” And Nielsen clinked cups with her. “Although, I can’t say the prospect of life unending appeals to me.”

“No. It would be nice to have some choice in the matter.”

After another sip and another pause, Nielsen said, “My … condition was a gift from my parents, believe it or not.”

“How so?”

The first officer rubbed her face, and the true depths of her exhaustion became evident. “They were trying to do the right thing. People always are. They just forget the old adage regarding the problem with good intentions and the road to Hell.”

“That’s a rather cynical view.”

“I’m in a rather cynical mood.” Nielsen straightened her legs out on the bed. It seemed to hurt. “Before I was born, the laws on gene-hacking weren’t as strict as they are now. My parents wanted to give their child—me—every possible advantage. What parent wouldn’t?”

Kira instantly grasped the problem. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes. So they packed me full of every known gene sequence for intelligence, including a few artificial ones that had just been developed.”

“Did it work?”

“I’ve never needed to use a calculator, if that’s what you mean. There were unintended side effects, though. The doctors aren’t quite sure what happened, but some part of the alterations triggered my immune system—set it off like a pressure alarm in a dome that’s been ripped open.” Nielsen’s expression became sardonic. “So I can calculate how fast the air is rushing out without having to check my math, but there’s nothing I can do to keep myself from asphyxiating. Metaphorically speaking.”

“Nothing?” Kira said.

Nielsen shook her head. “The doctors tried fixing the conflicts with retroviral treatments, but … they can only do so much. The genes changed tissue up here,” she tapped the side of her head. “Delete them, remove them, or even just edit them and it could kill me or mess with my memories or my personality.” Her lips twisted. “Life is full of little ironies like that.”