Feeling about as substantial as a spiderweb, I still stopped in at each of the Third Fleet ships and thanked them. I was spread so thinly I could do many at once, but not all, of course. It took time.
The exhale of winning left me floating and soft, partly carried on Caro’s younger energy and also directing her.
Maybe we could do anything. But the negotiations included me promising never to control Islan or Authority Ships again, at least after they agreed to terms. This did not bother me. I had no desire to ever control more than one ship at a time. Whichever one I was flying.
There were still a few details to work out, but who would have expected five young people from backward Fremont to change the outcome of an interplanetary war?
I felt good.
As I slid carefully inside myself, the act of becoming smaller cost me the sense of vastness I had enjoyed. But it was replaced by the slick swipe of Sasha’s tongue and a burbled hello from Jherrel—and the most intense hug of my life from my sister.
Each of these things also contained multitudes.
Chelo carefully fed me vitamin-charged water, making me take it in slowly.
Liam carried Caro over and set her in my lap. She was big enough that her feet almost touched the ground as her head lolled against my shoulder. I whispered into the data, Thank you.
I love you, Uncle Joseph.
And I love you. Sleep.
Okay.
And she did. Just like that, the sleep of the innocent and the young and the heroic.
Captain Hill came over and held out her hand. Her face looked more relaxed than I had ever seen it, and her smile wider. “You did well.”
“Thank you.”
She cocked her head. “Do you know my nickname?”
I smiled. “Marcus told me what he called you once.”
She smiled again. “Rose. You can call me Rose.”
“Thank you.”