Glenn was just showing her the truth of things. There was always that fear of drowning. But he was showing her the way to survive: hardness, endurance, the brisk efficiency of something that outlasted sentimentality. She understood it; understood who he was to her, at last. If she was in danger of sinking, she couldn’t hold on to something soft, something mushy and yielding. She needed to have something solid, or else she would be lost to the waves.

10.

[You asked, so here it is:

3 large Roundup-Resistant3 beets, thoroughly washed

2 large Snowdrop potatoes, sliced into bite-sized cubes

1 bulb of oil

1 medium Unyun, finely chopped

2 Toutsweet carrots, grated

½ head of Kabbage, finely chopped

1 can kidney beans with juice

10 bulbs water

6 bulbs chikin broth

5 strips ketchup leather

1 bulb Lemmon juice

¼ spoon pepper paste

Add all ingredients to a Moley Kitchen Assembler and set to INTUIT.

You were right: Alex’s old recipes are still in the server. I’ve downloaded them all to bring with us. We will have to make this when we join you, yes? There will be time when we settle into our new home. We are ready. Andrei is standing by with his ship—big enough to hold us and the families of all your friends. We can leave any day. We are waiting for your word. I hope to God we can pull this off.

Love,

S.S.]

VIDEO LOG #24—Ship Designation CS Wyvern 7079

Day 5: 13:43 UTO

[The videostream starts up again in a dark, cramped room, presumably back aboard the ship. Small, outdated monitors hang from the ceiling. In view, there’s the upper part of a white, bunk-like object. It looks to be an ISEKEI medical pod, model and generation unknown. Fin Taban is slumped on the floor next to the pod, still in his exo-armor and helmet. There’s the sound of sloshing. A suspended shape (Daley’s) is lying supine beneath the darkened glass of the pod, being churned around in the liquid like an old rag.]

[Taban slowly eases himself up to look at the readouts on the medical pod.]

HARE: Would you like me to play music?

Taban: No.

HARE: Understood.

Taban: Thanks.

HARE (processors whirring): . . .

HARE: I have other selections that are better suited to your tastes.

Taban: Still no. I’m not a big fan of—robot singing, or whatever it is.

HARE: Stellar-synth. It converts the wavelengths of nearby stars into sound. Many people enjoy it.

Taban: Yeah, well, I don’t. Sorry. (tapping on glass) Daley? Can you hear me?

HARE: USER Daley is still unconscious.

Taban: His eyes are open. I can’t fucking read these monitors. My inlays are useless.

HARE: Do you require assistance?

Taban: What do you think?

HARE (processors whirring): I am unable to answer your query at this point in time.

Taban: (kneading his temples) . . . Just tell me what it says, please.