Chelo wasn’t in my room when I woke. My clothes hadn’t been set out, and there was no cup of hot col waiting for me. I splashed water on my face and pulled on clothes. As soon as I opened the door I came face to face with Ming. She looked tired and slightly unkempt, and vaguely older. “Is everything okay?” I asked her.
“The fight’s about to reach us. We’ve received threats against your family. Credible enough that Captain Hill asked that everyone be put into protective custody.”
“The children?”
“All of you.”
“You’re not putting me in custody!”
She waved a hand in front of her face. “No. No. Your job is custody enough. Speaking of, the captain asked that you arrive twenty minutes early for your shift for an extra debriefing. I’ve got someone making you breakfast.”
“I want to see my family.”
“Of course you do.” She started walking, using a gesture to pull me into step beside her.
Anger made me walk faster. “Are we going to my family?”
“There’s no time. They’re being kept near the ship’s bay in case they—or we—need to escape. The captain said you’d be able to check on them while you’re on duty.”
She meant in the data. “That’s not the same as seeing them in person.”
“The fighting will reach you this shift.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
She glanced at me sideways in exasperation. But then, of all of the people I counted as my own, Ming and Dianne were the only two with military experience.
“All right. Work when you can, sleep when you can.”
She smiled. The captain was the first one who’d said that to me, but Ming used the phrase more since she’d become my bodyguard. Off shift meant off shift. “Caro is there, too?”
“There’re five guards. One is inside their new rooms to run information and errands, and two are stationed in each corridor.”
I felt deeply unsettled, but we were moving too fast for me to think. My boots rang on the hard metal corridors. “Who made threats?”
“We’re almost there.”
Captain Hill paced alone inside the briefing room. She glanced at me when I came in, her face tense and worried. “Good morning.”
Enough food, drink, and thankfully, col, for at least five people filled the conference table. I poured a bulb from a steaming carafe on the table and sat down. Chocolate. One thing was going right. “What happened?”
The captain sat, her face grave. “Early this shift, a fresh set of rumors hit the ship’s social webs. They were … not complimentary. To you or your family. Then the rumors had babies, and the babies grew into new ones. Hopefully all lies.” She gazed at me as if I could testify to that before I even knew what the rumors were about.
“So tell me,” I demanded, anger roughing my nerves.
“Apparently you started this whole war on Fremont.” She reached for her glass of water, started pouring. “And apparently you now want to finish it, make sure as many people as possible die, all in revenge for your family.”
A laugh exploded from me before I got control. “You know neither is true.”
Ming leaned back in her chair. “I told her that.”
“That’s not all. Theoretically, you killed Marcus in order to gain his fortune.”
That one hurt. The first two were so absurd they didn’t matter; no one but conspiracy nuts would believe them. Not that the Thorn and her sister ships didn’t have a handful of those. But this? “I would never.”
“There are videos circulating. We’re trying to prove they’re doctored.”
I stared at her. Each word came out heavy and separated by space. “I did not kill Marcus.”
Her features softened into a smile. “I know that. I met you when you came in after, and I saw the look on your face. I’ve also worked with you deep in data. So I know you didn’t kill Marcus.”
I nodded. Working together to keep the ship safe exposed us one to another. She would know if I were false, like I would know if she was.
She continued, “I already know—from Marcus—your version of the fight on Fremont. If anything, Islas started this.”
I didn’t look away from her steady gaze. “Do you trust me?”
“I do.” She took a deep breath and refilled her water glass. “Two of my officers came to me this morning and asked me to remove you from duty until you can demonstrate innocence.”
I blinked at her. “What did you tell them?”
“That we needed you. The captain of the Sun’s Orbit also sent a message asking about it, so the rumor has gone through the fleet in less than eight hours, and that’s while the Orbit has been fighting.”
That felt like being hit with a board. “You do want me to take this shift?”
She hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Can you be effective?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to tell Ulrika to take front. She’ll give commands. I need you to keep the Thorn’s systems safe. Ulrika will call you if the fighting gets bad enough to need you to back her.” She sighed and met my eyes. “But my orders could change. This story is still new and evolving. We’ll enter battle on the next shift. Fighters need to be led by someone they trust.”
A tingle of mixed excitement and dread ran through me. “Tell me about the fighting.”
“In a minute. First, I need to know that you will pull yourself off shift and hand the Thorn over to Ulrika if you feel that there’s any reason you are not a hundred percent. Any reason. Rumors. Caro. Chelo. Anything in how you feel. Any reason.”
I took a deep breath. I’d sworn to protect the Port Authority and the ship above all other things. “I will.”
Caro, of course, waited for me. There were no facial expressions in streams of data. I couldn’t see her smile. But her energy was easy to locate. Young and curious and sincerely confident. She babbled on for a moment about moving, but apparently she didn’t feel threatened. Good for Chelo and Liam. Show me where you are in physical form? Where in the Thorn?
She did. The captain had installed my family in a suite of rooms near the docking bay with a galley, a restroom, one bedroom, and a larger room with couches and a meeting table. It was probably designed for visiting pilots who docked ships inside the Thorn. There were plenty of camera feeds. Liam and Chelo were talking in the big room. Jherrel was sleeping with his head on Chelo’s lap. Kayleen was on the bed beside Caro, stroking her shoulder and back, keeping her promise to stay out of the data while still supporting her daughter.
If only I could reach through and hug them all.
After Caro and I settled into work, I told her, We might see some of the battle today. Will you obey me, no matter what I ask you?
No. What if you ask me to hurt you?
I swallowed an inappropriate response and said, Will you obey me if I ask to you to stop helping me and come back completely to the Thorn?
Yes.
If I see something I don’t want you to look at, will you look away?
If I can.
At least she was always honest. Stubborn, but honest. I loved her with all my heart, and I still hated the extra power she gave me. If only I could turn away from it.
Estimates suggested we wouldn’t engage for five hours or more. Two enemy ships headed toward our group of five, and a few more could turn our way and might join. Battle, when it came, would be the larger and less maneuverable ships firing at each other where the fleets met, and hundreds of small battles between both manned and automated small craft.
As much as I wanted to focus on the Thorn to watch over my family here, this might be my only chance to check on Alicia. Can you help me bridge to the Sun’s Orbit again?
I’ll try. Some ships have moved.
Thank you. Tell me if I’m needed here.
I will.
It took an hour to jump carefully across three other ships to the Orbit. We went through the Unicorn, which was now easy to enter with data already flowing between the Thorn and her. Next, we bridged a newsfeed through the Nebulae’s Child, which had such lousy security I doubted it would survive its first battle, and—with great effort—along a command string through the Sky of Star Clouds, which was as beautiful as the Peacemaker, and as well-tended. When Caro and I together bested her systems after six tries, I actually felt a twinge of guilt at breaching her.
For all three hops, it felt like I relied less on Caro, which was a relief. Maybe if I practiced enough, I wouldn’t need her at all.
Not that the battle gave me any time.
The next hop was to the Orbit. Caro—I’m going without you. There’s damage reported. You stay here. This ship is safe.
Do I have to?
I need you to be a strong anchor home.
Okay.
Good. That was one order obeyed.
The Sky of Star Clouds had too much security for me to talk with its AI, at least not without spending a lot of time doing it. News feeds suggested that fighting raged all around us. The big ships had passed, but as the fleets slid through each other, there was more than one opportunity to take or give damage for every ship, maybe many.
Visiting the Orbit would be safe enough for now.
It was easy to slide into her feeds. I’d been there before.
I checked my anchor to the Sky of Star Clouds, and to Caro. This supporting and anchoring was a thing I could not describe to anyone who had not done what I have. Part pathway, part scraps of self left behind, an effort that feels like stretching away from your heart, and taking crumbs of your soul with you.
I shall know how to return to myself, I chanted. Again. I shall be able to return to myself. I shall be able to return to Caro.
Caro must have heard me. I will keep hold of you.
She was six, and amazing. What would she be like at ten? At twenty? Thank you.
I turned my attention to the damaged Orbit.
Data flashed and flew throughout her systems, focusing on the breaks. I followed some of the fastest and most strident data streams to locate a hole in section of crew quarters. They’d retained life support in the rest of the ship. Repair bots scuttled everywhere, chattering to each other in broken streams of communication on overloaded circuits.
They used spare parts and welding-torch arms to make sure the hole didn’t grow and to add a layer of protective coating to the parts of the ship that used to be inside but were now outside.
They didn’t bother to salvage anything. So the ship’s AI saw it as an emergency.
I drew back, headed for the great hold.
It was largely empty. So most of the small ships were out, fighting.
I found Cy stalking corridors, giving orders as he went. I verified he was okay. I didn’t speak to him. No one needed to know I could get this far except Caro, Chelo, and Captain Hill.
Captain Zhao sat in his command chair, barking orders, his face concerned.
The Lily Star was gone. I searched through all of the cameras onboard quickly, a continuous blurring spin through empty rooms.
No sign of Alicia. No sign of any fliers, or anyone from Lopali. No Keepers. Nothing.
They had come in the Sky Anvil. Maybe they were there.
The Anvil was locked into a path near the Orbit. Caro?
Yes?
I’m going next door.
That will stretch you further.
I’ll be careful.
The two ships already shared navigation data, which was a steady stream I could follow easily.
The Anvil was a deeply damaged beauty. She had been shot at by the same ship that had holed the Orbit. It had hit her twice. One person had died. A human male.
Not Alicia.
Surely she was okay.
Half the crew had lost access to their living quarters.
The Anvil had been assaulted by small robots. I hesitated, then stopped and took time to play back some of the history. The damage reports sent me the camera logs, where I got a decent look at the robots from some angles, and in other shots there were blurs or dots on the outside of the huge ship. They attached to whatever they bumped into and then started cutting and destroying. Determined more than subtle. Almost brutish. The Anvil reported robot damage to a communications antenna, two cameras, and two places on the ship where they had almost breached the hull. Based on the camera footage, it had taken two or three far smarter but weaker defense bots to remove each of the three robots that had attached themselves to the outside of the ship.
At least none had come in.
The list of personnel was more protected than the ship’s basic hardware systems.
Not surprising.
I had been gone too long already, but I needed to know if Alicia was safe.
I kept at it, trying one assault on the personnel systems after another.
No luck.
I went to the medical records.
No luck.
The exercise records finally yielded some data. The three fliers were Tsawo, Marti, and Alicia.
She had gotten her wings.
No pictures, no way to know what she looked like now.
Still, armed with that much data, I flowed through the ship until I found the bay. There were records of three flier ships leaving. Each one held one flier and no one else, each with a single pilot.
I’d seen these little ships around Lopali. They looked like soap bubbles. Unsafe as hell. Fast and lethal and dangerous. They were part of the reason Marcus had imagined Lopali would make a difference in the outcome of the war. But he must have been imagining hundreds of them. Not three.
I watched the logs to the end.
Only one had returned.
Alicia hadn’t come back. Neither had Marti.
I managed not to scream, but still I felt a brief probe from Caro. Are you okay?
I couldn’t talk.
Are you okay?
She deserved an answer. I can’t find Alicia.
I’m sorry. I need you to come back.
That startled me. Why?
Mommy’s trying to pull me home. If I don’t go, she’ll come into the data.
I couldn’t allow that. I could stay here even if Caro left, but I might get lost. Especially if anything happened to the Anvil. I wanted to stay here and explore, but the war didn’t care what I wanted.
Give me a minute. Just one.
Hurry.
I searched the Anvil’s communication systems. Found a way to send a message to Tsawo. This is Joseph. Tell me when Alicia is okay.
I slid back to the Orbit, and then back to the Sky of Star Clouds, and then Caro pulled me back through the other two ships.
I let her. I drifted in data while allowing a child to tug me back to my body and my ship. But this might be my only moment to worry about Alicia, or even to think about her. What if she came all the way here, and I never saw her? What if I never knew what she looked like with her wings? She had left me for them, and I wanted to see her fly.