“A body. A new body, as large or small as you want, metal or organic, in any shape or design that strikes your fancy. Just tell me, and the Seed can make it.” To Kira’s astonishment, the ship mind did not immediately answer. Rather, he was silent, and she could hear his silence as a physical thing: a pressure of contemplation and uncertainty on the other end of the signal. “Think of it; you could go anywhere you wanted to, Gregorovich. You wouldn’t need to be bound to the Wallfish anymore.”
At long last, the ship mind said, *No. But I think, perhaps, I want to be. Your offer is tempting, Kira, mighty tempting. And don’t think I’m ungrateful, but for the time being, I think my place is here, with Falconi and Nielsen and Trig and Hwa-jung and Sparrow. They need me, and … I won’t lie, it’s nice to have meatbags like them running around my decks. You might understand that now. A body would be nice, but I could always have a body. I couldn’t always have this crew or these friends.*
Kira did understand, and she appreciated his answer. “If you change your mind, the offer stands.”
*I’m glad to have known you, O Queen of Flowers. You are a prickly and problematic person, but life is more interesting with you around.… I could not have chosen as you have, to pursue these miscreants of the Maw all on your lonesome. For that, you have my admiration. Moreover, you showed me the path to freedom. You saved me from myself, and thus, you also have my eternal gratitude. If you find yourself in the far distant future, remember us as we remember you. And if the tides of time are kind, and I am still sound of thought, know this: you shall always be able to count upon my aid.*
To which she simply replied, “Thank you.”
4.
With her visitors departed and her mind far more at rest, Kira started upon the next stage of her plan. In concept it was simple; in execution it was more complicated and dangerous than anything she had attempted since waking in the aftermath of the Maw’s destruction.
First, she moved herself near the skin of the station. There, she gathered material—organic and inorganic—until she had formed a second core, equal to the one at the center of Unity. Then, and this was the most difficult part, she separated her brain into two unequal parts.
Everything that was of Qwon and Carr, she isolated and placed in the heart of Unity. Everything that was of Kira, the Seed, and the Maw, she drew to herself. Some duplication was necessary—she could still remember Carr’s medical tests and Qwon’s time spent hunting in the waters of its homeworld—and some omissions and oversights were inevitable. But she did her best.
The process was frightening. With every move, Kira worried that she would sever some crucial part of her self. Or that she would cut off access to a memory she didn’t even know she needed. Or that she would kill herself.
But again, she did her best. As she had learned, sometimes you had to make a choice, any choice, even when it wasn’t clear which path was the right one. Life rarely provided such a luxury.
She labored for a night and a day, until everything that seemed to be her fit inside the skull she had chosen. The tiny, limited skull. She felt diminished, but at the same time, it was a relief to be free of all the sensory input pouring in from the station.
She checked on the Qwon/Carr consciousness one last time—a mother checking on a sleeping child—and then she separated herself from Mar Íneth and set forth toward the near asteroid belt, using her newly built fusion core to drive her through space.
As always, Klein and Lphet came clamoring for answers. So Kira told them of the Maw’s seven deadly seeds, and she explained her intentions. “I’m leaving to hunt them down,” she said.
Klein sputtered. “But what about the station?”
[[Lphet here: Yes, Idealis, I share the shoal leader’s concern. The station is too important for it to be unguarded.]]
Kira laughed. “It’s not. I left Carr-Qwon in charge.”
“What?” said Klein.
[[Lphet here: What?]
“The part of me that was them now watches over Unity. They will care for it and, if it comes to that, protect it. I suggest you don’t anger them.”
[[Lphet here: Are you trying to create another Corrupted, Idealis?]]
“I hate to say it, but I agree with the Jelly,” said Klein. “Are you trying to give us another Maw?”
Kira’s voice hardened. “The Maw is no more. I have removed all parts of the Seed from Carr-Qwon. What they are now is something different. Something unformed and unsure, but I can tell you this: none of the anger and pain that drove the Maw still exists. Or if it does, it’s inside me, not them. You have a new life-form to usher into existence, Admiral Klein, Lphet. Treat them accordingly, and you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Do not disappoint me.”
5.
When she reached the asteroid belt, Kira slowed herself to a stop near one of the largest asteroids: a huge chunk of metallic rock kilometers across and pitted from countless collisions over the years.
There she parked herself, and there she again began to build. This time, Kira drew upon an existing blueprint: one she had found buried deep within the Seed’s memory banks. It was technology of the Old Ones, devised at the height of their civilization, and it suited her purpose perfectly.
Using the Seed, Kira devoured the asteroid—adapting it to her needs—and using the Old Ones’ schematic, she built a ship.
It was not square and spindly and lined with radiators, like the human ships. Nor was it round and white and iridescent like the Wranaui ships. It was not like any of those things. No. Kira’s ship was shaped like an arrow, long and sharp, with flowing lines reminiscent of a leaf. It had veins and ridges and, along its flared stern, fanned membranes. As with Unity, the ship was a living thing. The hull expanded and contracted in subtle motions, and there was a sense of awareness about the vessel, as if it was watching everything around it.
In a way it was, for the ship was an extension of Kira’s body. It acted as her eyes, and through it, she could see far more than would otherwise have been possible.
When she was finished, Kira had a ship that was over half the size of a UMC battleship and far more heavily armed. Powering it was another torque engine, and with it, Kira felt confident she could exceed the highest speed of any of the Maw’s foul offspring.
Then, she took one last look at the system. At the Cordovan star, at the planet R1 and the verdant framework of Unity floating in orbit high above. At the fleets of human and Wranaui ships clustered thereabout, which were, if not entirely friendly, at least no longer shooting.
And Kira smiled, for it was good.
In her mind, she made her peace, said her last farewells; a silent lament for all that was lost and gone. And then she turned her ship away from the star—pointed it toward the Maw’s final memory—and with the smallest of thoughts, started on her way.
EXEUNT VI
1.
Kira wasn’t alone. Not yet.
As she moved across the face of the void, four UMC battleships and three Wranaui cruisers trailed behind in close formation. Most of the vessels were damaged in some way: explosion-scarred and soot-besmirched and—in the case of the human ships—held together more with FTL tape, emergency welds, and the prayers of their crews than anything else. Still, the vessels were spaceworthy enough to accompany her.
Admiral Klein and Lphet seemed determined to provide her with an escort all the way to the Markov Limit. Not so much for protection, she suspected, as for observation. Also, perhaps, to give her company. Which she appreciated. If anything was going to do her in, it was the silence and the isolation.…