sure these people will let you—
No, no, I’ve just been crying. I’m pregnant.
Ah.
And I need to not be.
Would you like me to turn the camera off? I won’t use this if you don’t want me to.
No, it’s fine. It’s just . . . I always wanted to. But not here, not without knowing where I’ll end up or if it’ll be okay there. I can’t do that to a kid.
Would you like some company?
What?
I can wait with you, if you’d like.
Yeah. I’d like that.
• • •
Niko watched out the window of their quarters as the Gandesian transport pulled away from the Altair. Cynwrig was gone, on her way back to her grandkids and her total disregard for human life. Niko hadn’t said goodbye, obviously. They were sure nobody had wanted that.
They flopped back on their bed and closed their eyes. They were relieved, yes, but it didn’t feel good, because they’d failed, too. Asala was below decks switching off the scramblers now—the two of them didn’t warrant that level of defense, and they both were looking forward to carrying out the rest of their journey without random screeches and freezing menus. Not that the glitches would continue, now that Cynwrig was gone. But Asala didn’t know that.
Niko fell asleep, only to be awoken an hour later by an incoming message on their handheld. Ansible line, and encrypted. Niko rubbed their eyes and sighed. So easy with the scramblers off.
Reports received. Please acknowledge when you receive this message.
Acknowledged.
There you are. You okay?
Yeah, no need to worry. Neither of them know anything.
That’s good, but we were worried about you, too. This wasn’t the plan, but that bait-and-switch with her ship happened too fast to get word to you.
I tried to hack a hole in the scrambler net, but it screwed things up all over the ship.
Scramblers will do that.
I knew she’d freak out if they went down. But I should’ve done it sooner. It was just a dicey situation here.
We understand.
She’s gone now. I’m sorry. I didn’t get anything.
That wasn’t your job in the first place. You showed initiative by trying. We’ll get another opportunity.
What should I do next?
Hang tight for a while. We need to re-strategize. Contact us once you’ve reached Hypatia. Keep us informed on your findings.
Will do.
And be careful with your partner there. She’s not stupid.
I know.
There was a knock on Niko’s door. “Come in.”
The door slid open. “You can stop hiding now,” Asala said. “Unless you’re scared of me, too.” She looked them over. “Were you asleep?”
“Yeah—I mean, no. I mean—kind of.”
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s cool. I was basically awake anyway.”
Asala paused. “I was going to have lunch,” she said. She weighed something. She made a decision. “Do you want to join me?”
Niko smiled and shoved their handheld in a pocket. “I’d love to.”
• • •
What’s your name?
Melis.
And how old are you?
Five.
Melis, why is your family on this ship?
Because our planet . . . our planet is too cold.
Were you cold there?
Yeah.
Me too. Why is our planet too cold?
Our sun is also too cold.
That’s basically right. Our sun is unstable, and it’s not putting out the amount of heat we need to keep our planets habitable. Do you know what “habitable” means?
Yeah.
How do you feel about going to live on another planet?
Mmm . . . I don’t know.
Are you excited? Are you scared?
I’m mad.
You’re mad. Why are you mad?
I didn’t want to leave our house.
Was it a good house?
Not as good as Anan’s house, but I didn’t live there. This ship smells bad and it’s loud.
Who’s