They left the Jelly pouring the bags of sugar into the beak-like maw on the underside of its carapace and went then to the storm shelter near the center of the ship.

There, Kira watched with an increasing sense of loneliness as, one by one, the crew again got into their cryo tubes. (The Entropists had already retired to their cabin and the tubes contained within.)

Before closing the lid over himself, Vishal said, “Ah, Ms. Navárez, I forgot to tell you earlier: there is another pair of contacts waiting for you in sickbay. So sorry. Check the cupboard above the sink.”

“Thanks,” she said.

As in 61 Cygni, Falconi waited until the last. Holding onto a grip with one hand, he pulled off his boots with the other. “Kira.”

“Salvo.”

“Are you going to practice with the xeno on the way back, like you did before?”

She nodded. “I’m going to try. I have control, but … it’s not enough. If I’d had a better feel for the xeno, I might have been able to save Trig.”

Falconi studied her with an understanding expression. “Just be careful.”

“You know I will.”

“Since you’re going to be the only one up and around, can you do something for me?”

“Of course. What?”

He stashed the boots in the locker next to him and started peeling off his vest and shirt. “Keep an eye on the Jelly while we’re in cryo. We’re trusting it to not break out and kill us, and I’ll be honest, I don’t trust it that much.”

Kira nodded slowly. “I had the same thought. I can hang some webbing outside the airlock and hunker down there.”

“Perfect. We’ve got alarms set in case the Jelly does break out, so you should have plenty of warning.” He gave her a wry smile. “I know it won’t be that comfortable there in the entryway, but we don’t have any better options.”

“It’s fine,” said Kira. “Don’t worry about it.”

Falconi nodded and pulled off his shirt. Then he stripped off his pants and socks, put them in the locker, and pushed himself over to the one empty cryo tube. On the way, he trailed a hand across the side of Trig’s tube, leaving a three-fingered mark in the layer of frost coating the machine.

Kira joined Falconi as he popped open the lid to his tube. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but admire the play of muscles across his back.

“You going to be okay?” he said, fixing her with a look of unexpected sympathy.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“Gregorovich will be up for a little while longer, and remember—if you need to talk, at any time, you wake me up. Seriously.”

“I will. Promise.”

Falconi hesitated, and then he put a hand on her shoulder. She covered it with her own, feeling the heat from his skin radiating into hers. He gave her a soft squeeze before letting go and pulling himself into the cryo tube.

“We’ll meet again at Sol,” he said.