“They don’t know we’re traveling under the name Finger Pig, do they,” said Kira, gesturing at the holo. The realization had just occurred to her.

“No,” said Falconi. “Good point. We’ll shift our transponder back. Would suck to get blown up over a case of mistaken identity.”

“So we’re going?” Kira asked.

“One second. Let me check the coordinates. Update our wriggly little friend here while I do.”

Itari, Kira saw, was rather restless. Its tentacles were red and blue, and they wormed across the table where the Jelly had been floating, gripping and regripping the grating with what in a human would have been nervous energy.

After Kira filled it in, the Jelly said, [[Itari here: We will meet with the Knot, yes? Yes?]]

The repetition reminded her of Vishal, and Kira smiled without meaning to. [[Kira here: Yes, I think so.]]

“Okay,” said Falconi. “Looks like they want to meet closer to Cordova-Fourteen-Twenty. Assuming we get out of here quick-like, we can make it to the spot in about twenty-eight hours.”

“In FTL?” said Kira.

“Of course.”

“Just checking.… That’s cutting it awfully close, isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “They’re only twelve hours away by signal, so not really.”

“Do you need to go back into cryo?”

“Nah, but I’m going to leave the rest of the crew under, and we’ll have to keep the ship as cold as possible. You’ll tell Itari that, yes?”

She did. And then they set about departing the empty patch of interstellar space the Wallfish was currently racing through—although with no close point of reference, they seemed to be sitting perfectly still.

Once the ship was properly chilled, the Markov Drive wound back up, the familiar whine sounded, and they entered FTL.

6.

The twenty-eight hours passed in cold, quiet, and dark. Kira and Falconi spent most of their time apart, in their cabins, keeping as still as they reasonably could, to avoid producing extra heat. Likewise, Itari retreated to the port cargo hold, and there the alien held itself in watchful stillness.

A few times Kira met with Falconi in the galley for meals. They talked in hushed tones, and the meetings felt to Kira like the slow, late-night conversations she’d had with friends in school while growing up.

When they finished eating, they played games of Scratch Seven. Round after round, and sometimes Falconi won and sometimes Kira. Unlike before, they didn’t bet questions but rather tokens they folded out of wrappers from their meal packs.

During the last game, Kira broke the silence and said, “Salvo … why did you buy the Wallfish?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, why did you want to leave your home? Why this?”

His blue eyes gazed at her over the tops of his cards. “Why did you become a xenobiologist? Why leave Weyland?”

“Because I wanted to explore, to see the universe.” She shook her head, rueful. “Sure got more than I bargained for.… But somehow I think that’s not why you left Farrugia’s Landing.”

He turned over one of the shared cards stuck to the deck. A six of clubs. Added to her own hand, that gave her … four sevens in total. “Sometimes it’s not possible to stay home, even if you want to.”