Sparrow chimed in, “From what Trig’s said, things got real bad on Undset before the new transport showed up. Supposedly, they ended up spacing the quartermaster and the station commander.” And she nodded as if sharing a great secret.

“Thule.” Kira shook her head. “How long ago was this?”

Sparrow looked over at Falconi. “What, about ten, twelve years?”

He nodded. “Sounds about right.”

Kira picked at her food, thinking. “Trig would have been pretty young, then.”

“Yup.”

“No wonder he wanted to get off Undset.”

Falconi returned his attention to the holo. “Wasn’t his only reason, but … yes.”

7.

They were still in the galley forty-some minutes later when Trig strutted back in. His cheeks were bright red; his eyes swollen, bloodshot, glassy; and his skin shiny with sweat, but he looked happy, almost euphoric.

“How’d it go, kid?” Sparrow asked, leaning back against the wall.

He grinned and puffed up his chest. “Awesome. But sheesh, my throat burns!”

“I can’t imagine why,” Nielsen said in a dry tone.

The kid started toward the kitchen area, and then stopped and looked at Kira. “Can you believe we’re actually going to get to explore alien ruins tomorrow?!”

“You’re looking forward to it?”

He nodded, serious but still excited. “Oh yeah. But, well … I was wondering, what happens if they’re still around?”

“I’d like to know that too,” Nielsen murmured.

In her mind’s eye, Kira again saw the Highmost sweep the Staff of Blue downward, and a dark and miserable planet vanish from the sky. “We hope they’re in a good mood.”

8.

Trig’s final question lingered in Kira’s mind as she returned to her cabin: What happens if they’re still around? What indeed? She checked on the ship’s progress in her console—course unchanged, planet e now brighter than any of the visible stars—and then lay on the bed and closed her eyes.

Tomorrow’s worries would have to wait for tomorrow.

She slept, and this time no memories intruded.

9.

A persistent beeping roused her.

Annoyed, Kira forced her eyes open. In the holo, she saw the time displayed: 0345. Fifteen minutes until departure.

She groaned and rolled out of bed, feeling every second of missed sleep. Then it occurred to her that she’d forgotten to set an alarm. Was Gregorovich responsible for waking her?

As she dressed, Kira opened a new window and sent a single line to the ship mind:

Thanks. – Kira

A second later, a response arrived:

De nada. – Gregorovich

It paid to be courteous with ship minds, especially if they were anything less than sane.

Still groggy, Kira ran through the ship and climbed toward the nose of the Wallfish. The ship hadn’t stopped thrusting, which meant the shuttle had yet to arrive. Good. She wasn’t too late.

She found the crew—along with the Entropists and the four Marines in power armor—at the top of the ship, by the airlock.

“About time,” said Falconi, and tossed her a blaster. He was wearing a skinsuit, helmet included, and his oversized grenade launcher, Francesca, was slung across his back.