The built-in holo sprang to life, and an image of Tschetter—clad in the same skinsuit as before—appeared from the shoulders up. Kira was relieved to see the major had survived the battle at Bughunt.
Tschetter said, “Captain Falconi, Navárez, your message is received and acknowledged. Thank you. We would have been in a shit-ton of trouble otherwise—not that the current situation is much better. Given the change in circumstances, it’s imperative that we meet and talk.” As Kira had expected. “Let me repeat: it’s imperative that we meet. Long-distance won’t suffice. It’s not secure, and we can’t have a proper conversation this way. Lphet has proposed the following coordinates, which I’ve done my best to convert into standard notation. For the sake of everyone’s safety, don’t respond to this message. We will travel to the specified location and wait exactly forty-two hours after you receive this. If the Wallfish doesn’t arrive by then, Lphet says it will assume that you—and this specifically means you, Kira—are no longer willing to assist in this endeavor, and the Knot of Minds will plan accordingly.” A note of appeal entered Tschetter’s voice, even though her expression remained as stern as ever. “I can’t emphasize enough just how important this is, Kira. Please, you have to come. And you as well, Falconi. Humanity needs all the allies it can find at the moment.… Tschetter over and out.”
“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.”
“Did you want to?”
A slight shrug underneath his thermal blanket. “The situation wasn’t great. I didn’t have much of a choice. You remember the uprising there?”
“Yeah.”
“The company was screwing folks over on their benefits in all sorts of ways. Disability. Worker’s comp. You name it. Things finally reached a boiling point and … everyone had to take sides.”
A slow realization dawned on her. “You were a claims adjuster, right?”
Salvo nodded, but with some reluctance. “That’s how I really came to understand how people were getting swindled. Once the protests started, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. You have to understand, these were people I grew up with. Friends. Family.”
“And after?”
“After…” He put his cards down and rubbed at both temples with the tips of his index fingers. “After, I couldn’t bear to stay. Words had been said and actions had been done that couldn’t be forgiven. So I buckled down, saved my money for a few years, and then bought the Wallfish.”
“To escape?” she asked.
“No, to be free,” he said. “I’d rather struggle and fail on my own than be coddled as a slave.”
The conviction in his voice was so strong, it made the back of Kira’s neck prickle. She liked it. “So you do have principles,” she said in a softly mocking tone.
Salvo chuckled. “Careful now. Don’t tell anyone or you’ll give them a bad impression.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She put down her cards. “Hold on. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Salvo watched with a questioning look as she left the galley. Hurrying, Kira returned to her cabin, fetched her concertina from under a blanket of the Soft Blade’s living tissue, and then headed back.
When he saw the concertina, Salvo groaned. “What now? Are you going to make me listen to a polka?”
“Hush,” said Kira, using the brusque response to conceal her nervousness. “I don’t know if I remember all the fingering, but…”
Then she played him “Saman-Sahari,” one of the first pieces she had ever learned. It was a long, slow song with what she thought was a beautiful melody. As the languid music filled the air, it reminded her of the greenhouses on Weyland, of their fragrant scents and the buzz of pollinating insects. It reminded her of family and home and much that was now lost.
Tears filled Kira’s eyes in spite of herself. When she finished, she stayed where she was for a long while, staring down at the concertina.
“Kira.” She looked up to see Falconi gazing at her with an earnest expression, his eyes gleaming with tears of his own. “That was lovely,” he said, and put his hand on hers.
She nodded and sniffed and laughed a little. “Thanks. I was afraid I was going to make a mess of it.”
“Not at all.”
“Well then.…” She cleared her throat, and then with some reluctance, freed her hand. “I suppose we should call it a night. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”