At that, Kira nearly laughed. Sometimes humor was the only rational response.

“I was really worried about you,” Alan said.

“We all were,” said Marie-Élise.

“Yeah,” said Kira, tightening her hold on Alan. She could only imagine what it had been like for him, waiting for her these past weeks. “So, Neghar, you managed to haul me out of that hole?”

The woman wobbled her hand in front of her. “Eh. So-so. It took some doing.”

“But you got me out.”

“Sure did, honey.”

“Next chance I get, I’m buying you a whole case of cinnamon rolls.”

Mendoza snared Fizel’s exam stool and sat. He rested his hands on his knees, arms straight. “What she’s not telling you is—You know what? Tell her, go ahead and tell her.”

Neghar rubbed her arms. “Shit. Well, you were unconscious, so I had to strap us together so I could keep you from getting your head ripped off or something when Geiger winched you out. There wasn’t much room in the tunnel you fell through, and, well—”

“She tore her skinsuit,” said Jenan.

Neghar extended a hand toward him. “That. Full—” A cough interrupted her, and she doubled over for a moment, hacking. Her lungs sounded wet, as if she had bronchitis. “Guh. Full pressure breach. Was a bitch to patch with one hand while hanging from a harness.”

“Which meant,” said Mendoza, “that Neghar had to be quarantined along with you. We ran every test in the book, including some that aren’t. They all came up negative, but you were still unresponsive—”

“Which was scary as fuck,” said Alan.

“—and since we didn’t know what we were dealing with, I decided it was better to put both of you into cryo until we got a handle on the situation.”

Kira winced. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Neghar.

Fizel thumped himself on the chest. “What of poor me? You forget about me. Cryo is easy. I had to stay in quarantine for almost a month after working on you, Navárez. A month.”

“And I appreciate your help,” said Kira. “Thank you.” She meant it too. A month in quarantine would wear on anyone.

“Bah. You shouldn’t have been poking your bony nose where it didn’t belong. You—”

“Enough,” said Mendoza in a mild tone, and the doctor subsided, but not without flicking his index and middle fingers toward her in a way that Kira had learned was a rude gesture. A very rude gesture.

She took another sip of water to fortify herself. “So. Why did you wait so long to thaw us out?” Her gaze shifted back to Neghar. “Or did they wake you up sooner?”

Neghar coughed again. “Two days ago.”

Around the room, Kira noticed faces tightening, and the mood growing tense, uncomfortable. “What is it?” she asked.

Before Mendoza could answer, the roar of a firing rocket—louder than any of their shuttles—sounded outside and the walls of the compound shuddered as if from a minor earthquake.