The machine boss sucked on her lower lip for a moment. “Ah, the lines need to be flushed, the fusion drive and the Markov Drive both need to be checked.… Water, air, and food are still mostly full, but I would restock if we were going out for a long time. Hmm.” She bit at her lip again.
“Could we do it?” Falconi asked. “Three months’ travel in FTL, round trip. Assume three weeks out of cryo, just to be on the safe side.”
Hwa-jung dipped her head. “We could do it, but I would not recommend it.”
A bark of laugh escaped Falconi. “Most of what we’ve done over the past year falls under the category of ‘I wouldn’t recommend it.’” He looked back at Kira. “The question is, should we?”
“There’s no profit in it,” said Sparrow, leaning forward, elbows on her knees.
“No,” Falconi admitted. “There isn’t.”
Nielsen said, “There’s a good chance we’d get killed. And if not killed—”
“—executed for treason,” said Falconi. He picked at a patch on his trousers. “Yeah, that’s my read on it too.”
“What would you do instead?” Kira asked, quiet. She could feel the delicacy of the moment. If she pushed too hard, she would lose them.
At first, no one answered. Then Nielsen said, “We could take Trig to a proper medical facility, somewhere outside the League.”
“But your family is still here in Sol, isn’t it?” said Kira. The first officer’s silence was answer enough. “And yours too, right, Vishal?”
“Yes,” said the doctor.
Kira let her gaze roam across the others’ faces. “We all have people we care about. And none of them are safe. We can’t just go and hide.… We can’t.”
Hwa-jung murmured in agreement, and Falconi looked down at his clasped hands.
“Beware the temptation of false hope,” whispered Gregorovich. “Resist and seek your validation elsewhere.”
“Hush,” said Nielsen.
Falconi lifted his chin toward the ceiling and scratched the underside of his jaw. The sound of nails rasping against stubble was surprisingly loud. “Ask Itari this for me: If we warn the Knot of Minds, would there still be a chance of peace between Jellies and humans?”
Kira repeated the question, and the Jelly said, [[Itari here: Yes. But if the Knot is cut, then the cruel and mighty Ctein will reign over us until the end of this ripple, to the detriment of all.]]
Falconi gave another of his grunts. “Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.” He turned toward Kira as far as his seat and harness would allow. “You would go?”
Despite the fear she felt at the prospect of again venturing into the unknown, Kira nodded. “I would.”
Falconi looked around the room, at each and every one of the crew. “Well? What’s the verdict?”
Sparrow made a face. “I don’t much like the thought of helping the UMC after the shit they pulled on us, but … sure. What the hell. Let’s do it.”
A sigh from Vishal, and he raised a hand. “I don’t much like the thought of this war continuing. If there is anything we can do to stop it, I feel we must.”
“Where she goes, I go,” said Hwa-jung, and put a hand on Sparrow’s shoulder.
Nielsen blinked several times, and it took Kira a moment to realize the first officer had tears in her eyes. Then the woman sniffed and nodded. “I vote yes as well.”
“What about the Entropists?” Kira asked.
“They’re in no state to be making decisions,” said Falconi. “But I’ll ask.” His gaze went blank as he switched to his overlays. His lips twitched as he subvocalized his texts, and the control room was silent.
Kira assumed he was communicating with the Entropists via a screen in the sickbay, since their implants were burned out. She took the opportunity to update Itari on the conversation. The constant back-and-forth of translation was beginning to wear on her. She also checked on the holo in the central display—to her relief, she didn’t see any pursuing ships, but the nightmares had managed to destroy the near receiver/emitter for the solar laser.
“Okay,” said Falconi. “Veera can’t talk, but Jorrus votes yes. It’s a go.” He scanned their faces once more. “Everyone on the same page?… Alright, then. We’re agreed. Gregorovich, set a course for the rendezvous point Tschetter gave us.”
The ship mind snorted, a surprisingly normal sound coming from him. Then he said, “Forgotten me, have you? Does my vote not count?”
“Of course it does,” said Falconi, exasperated. “Tell us your vote, then.”
“My vote?” said Gregorovich, an unbalanced edge to his voice. “Well now, so kind of you to ask. I vote NO.”
Falconi rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but we’ve already decided, Gregorovich. You’re outnumbered seven to one. Lay in the course and get us out of here.”
“That I think not.”
“Excuse me?”
“No. I won’t. Is that clear enough, O Captain, my stern captain, my supernumerary captain?” And Gregorovich giggled and giggled and giggled until he broke into a demented laugh that echoed through the corridors of the Wallfish.
Cold fear wormed its way into Kira. The ship mind had always seemed a bit unstable, but now he’d gone totally insane, and they were all at his mercy.
3.
“Gregorovich—” Nielsen started to say.
“I object,” whispered the ship mind, breaking his laugh. “I object most strenuously. I won’t take you there—I won’t—and nothing you can say or do will convince me otherwise. Pretty my hair and pat my head, doll me up with satin ribbons and pamper me with plumpest persimmons; I shall not reverse, regress, retract, or otherwise rescind my decision.”
[[Itari here: What is the wrongness?]] Kira explained, and the Jelly turned a queasy-looking green. [[Itari here: Your ship forms are as dangerous as hidden currents.]]
Falconi swore. “The hell is wrong with you, Gregorovich? We don’t have time for this nonsense. I’m giving you a direct order. Change our goddamn course.”
“Never I will. Never I might.”
The captain slapped the console in front of him. “Seriously? You didn’t object when we went off to Bughunt, but you’re going to mutiny now?”
“The expectation of peril thereat was not a certainty. Calculated risks remained within reasonable tolerances given available information. You were not setting forth to plunge yourself into the midst of martial turmoil, and I won’t allow it now. No, I won’t.” The ship mind sounded insufferably self-righteous.
“Why?” asked Nielsen. “What is it you’re so afraid of?”
The ship mind’s unhinged giggle returned. “The universe is spinning apart: a pinwheel driven to the point of failure. Darkness and emptiness, and what matters still? The warmth of friends, the light of human kindness. Trig lies on the brink of death, frozen in a tomb of ice, and I will not allow this crew to be further torn apart. No, not I. If we venture forth amid nightmares and Jellies battling, with the Seventh Fleet skulking about for trouble to cause, likely it is circumstance shall deliver us our doom in the shape of some ship—bearing down upon us as the wrath of cruel fate unburdened by grace or pity or the slightest shade of human consideration.”
“Your concern is noted,” said Falconi. “Now I’m ordering you to turn this ship around.”
“Can’t do, Captain.”
“You mean you won’t.”
Gregorovich laughed again, long and low. “Is the inability a result of nature or nurture? You say potatoh, I say potayto.”
Falconi glanced at Nielsen, and Kira saw the alarm in his expression. “You heard Kira. If we don’t warn the Knot of Minds, we’ll lose our only chance of peace with the Jellies and, possibly, our only chance of defeating the nightmares. Is that what you want?”