“Thank you,” she said, heartfelt.
The Entropists dipped their heads and touched the tips of their fingers to their foreheads. “You are most welcome, Prisoner. May your path always lead to knowledge.”
“Knowledge to freedom,” she said, completing the refrain. Their definition of freedom differed from hers, but she could appreciate the sentiment.
Then Kira returned to her spot among the crates, called up her overlays, and dove back into the news with a renewed sense of resolve.
4.
Ship-night arrived, and the lights in the hold dimmed to a faint red glow. Kira found it difficult to sleep; her mind was restless, and her body too after so long spent on the Valkyrie. Plus, welcome as it was, it was still strange to have a sense of weight again. Her cheek and hip hurt where they pressed against the deck.
She thought of Tschetter, and then everyone from the survey team. Hopefully the UMC had thawed out the survivors. It wasn’t good to spend too long in cryo; basic biological processes like digestion and hormone production started to go awry after a certain point. And Jenan always had been prone to cryo sickness.…
In the end, Kira did sleep, but her mind was troubled, and her dreams were more vivid than normal. She saw herself at home, as a child—old memories that she hadn’t recalled in years but that seemed fresh and current, as if time were looping in on itself. She was chasing her sister, Isthah, through the rows of plants in the west greenhouse. Isthah shrieked and waved her hands as she ran, her brown ponytail bouncing against the back of her neck.… Their father cooking arrosito ahumado, the dish his family had brought from San Amaro when they emigrated from Earth and the whole reason there was a firepit in the backyard. Ashes for the sugar, sugar for the rice. Her favorite food because it held a flavor of the past.… Then her mind shifted to things more recent, to Adra and Alan, and her worries over the Jellies. A mélange of overlapping memories:
Alan was saying, “Can you get a scan of it? Maybe pick up a few samples?”
Then Neghar: *You’re gonna give up Yugo’s cinnamon rolls for THAT?*
And Kira answered, as she had: “Sorry, you know how it is.” … you know how it is …
In HQ, after waking from cryo. Alan had his arms around her. “It’s my fault. I should never have asked you to check out those rocks. I’m so sorry, babe.”
“No, don’t apologize,” she said. “Someone had to do it.”
And somewhere Todash and the Boys were howling and screaming, “And there’s nothing at the door. Hey, there’s nothing at the door. Babe, what’s that knocking at the door?”
Kira woke in a cold sweat, heart hammering. It was still night, and the hundreds of sleeping people filled the cargo hold with the white noise of their breathing.
She let out a long breath of her own.
Someone had to do it. She shivered and ran a hand over her head. The smoothness of it still surprised her.
“Someone,” she whispered. She closed her eyes, overcome by a sudden sense of Alan’s closeness. For a moment, it felt as if she could smell him.…
Kira knew what he would do. What he would want her to do. She sniffed and wiped away tears. Curiosity had driven both of them to the stars, but in the process of satisfying their curiosity, they’d had to assume a certain responsibility. More so for her than him—xenobiology was a riskier profession than geology—but regardless, the fact remained: for those who ventured into the unknown, there was a duty to protect those left behind, those who lived their lives in familiar bounds.
A line from the Entropists echoed in her mind: Meaning comes from purpose.… And Kira knew then what her purpose was. It was to use her understanding of the Jellies’ language to broker peace between their species. Or, failing that, to help the League win the war.
But on her own terms. If she went to Ruslan, the League would just throw her back into quarantine, and that wouldn’t do anyone good (least of all herself). No, she needed to be out in the field, not stuck in a lab getting scrutinized like a microbe on a petri dish. She needed to be where she could interact with the Jellies’ computers and extract what data she could. Better still would be to speak with a Jelly, but Kira doubted that would be possible in any safe way. At least, not yet. If she could get her hands on a transmitter in one of their ships, that might change.
She’d decided. In the morning, she would talk with Falconi about diverting to a port closer than Ruslan. Somewhere that might have salvaged Jelly tech she could examine or where—if circumstances played out in her favor—she might be able to hitch a ride to a disabled Jelly ship. Falconi would take some convincing, but Kira felt hopeful she could persuade him. No reasonable person could ignore the importance of what she had to say, and while hard-edged, Falconi seemed reasonable enough.
She closed her eyes, feeling a new sense of determination. Even if it was a mistake, she was going to do her damnedest to stop the Jellies.
Maybe then she could save her family and atone for her sins on Adra.
CHAPTER III. ASSUMPTIONS
1.
When the lights brightened in the cargo hold, Kira found herself covered with a fine layer of dust everywhere but her face. Since she had eaten, she’d expected as much. Fortunately, her blanket covered most of the mess, and she managed to brush off the powder without Inarë or anyone else noticing.
She activated her overlays and checked on the activities of the Jelly ships. It was grim stuff. The two Jellies by Karelin were still harassing cargo haulers in the area, and there were unsubstantiated reports that the aliens had landed forces at the small settlement on that planet. Meanwhile, the Jellies in the asteroid belt had destroyed half a dozen ore processors before executing a high-speed flyby of Chelomey. They’d strafed the hab-ring, shooting out most of the station’s defenses, and then continued on toward another set of mining installations.
The damage to the station was ugly to look at but mostly superficial; structurally it still appeared sound. That was a relief. If the hab-ring broke up … Kira shuddered at the thought of thousands of people getting spaced, young and old alike. Few things were as horrible or terrifying. Even as she watched, three different transports departed Chelomey as part of an evacuation effort.
Kira shifted her attention to Cygni B and tapped on a header: one of the Jelly ships there had exploded during the night, leaving behind a bloom of debris and hard radiation.
A group of miners calling themselves The Screaming Clams were claiming responsibility. Apparently they had managed to maneuver a drone up against the Jelly ship and blast it open, breaching the ship’s internal containment.
The destruction of the alien ship was a small thing in the greater scheme of the war, but Kira found it heartening to see. The Jellies had their advantages, but dammit, humans weren’t pushovers.
Still, that didn’t change the fact that the whole system was under attack. Kira could hear people throughout the hold talking about the situation on Chelomey (a large number of the refugees seemed to have come from the station) as well as the destroyed Jelly ship.
Putting aside the news—and ignoring the ongoing chatter—Kira started to look for a place where Falconi could drop her off. Somewhere relatively close that wasn’t currently taking fire from the Jellies. There weren’t many options: a small hab-ring out past Tsiolkovsky’s orbit; a fuel plant stationed at Karelin’s L3 Lagrangian point; a research outpost on Grozny, the star’s fourth planet …