“I’ve known people like you before,” Niko said. She faced Jezli in a corridor. She’d been en route to her cabin when she passed the other on her way and could not help but speak.
There was something innately infuriating about Jezli. Something about her that immediately set Niko on edge, made her feel as though she were being judged and found wanting, though try as she might, she could not point to any specific nuance of word or tone or body language that should have made her feel that way.
Jezli’s green eyes were cool as jade dice. “People like me how?”
“People used to getting their way unscrupulously.”
“And how do we do that?”
“Through flattery and manipulation. Coaxing and cleverness. Seduction.” Niko immediately wished she had not added that last, because it made Jezli’s lips quirk in amusement.
“Seduction,” she said, as though simply confirming that she had been listening, but Niko felt the blood rising to her cheeks nonetheless.
“Anyway,” she said. “I don’t want you trying to subvert my crew somehow. If you need something, come to me and ask for it, or if I am not around, talk to Dabry.”
“Presumably I should not seduce him,” Jezli said gravely.
Niko turned on her as though to snap something, but the solemn and polite demeanor with which she was greeted made the words impossible. Instead, she grumbled something under her breath, then raised her voice, addressing the ship.
“Thing, although this woman is aboard the ship, you are not to obey her orders. Anything that she—or her companion—want should be passed through me. Or the sergeant.”
“Yes,” the ship said. Niko paused for a heartbeat. Had that been a sliver of—what sort of a tone had it been? But there was Gio in the doorway gesticulating, something about the supplies.
Jezli watched Niko go over to the waiting chimpanzee, and her eyes were unreadable and shuttered. The ship considered them from several angles, opening its own eyes in unobtrusive places like ceiling crevices and other odd corners in order to do so.
It wondered what she was thinking. It had learned, though, that such questions were considered intrusive. The ship itself would have welcomed more people asking it what it was thinking, personally, and would have gladly shared that thought as well. If anyone had asked.
Atlanta was glad that Roxana was there. When she had thought that she would never see the paladin again, there had been an unexpected ache in her heart. Not romantic. Not anything like that.
But underneath that gladness a part of her worried and quailed, like a beetle whose rock has been overturned so the sunlight strikes it. Because there was something about the paladin that said Atlanta would be challenged, and harder than she had ever been tested yet, and the thought of that terrified her.
She made her counselors break off chanting the luck phrase and asked them, “What do you know about paladins?”
“Nothing,” said her youngest self.
“Nothing,” said her idealized self.
But the Happy Bakka looked at her and said, “Why?”
“There’s one aboard.”
“You are lucky. Very few people ever see a paladin in their lifetime.”
“Why are they so rare?”
“Because they believe they have been called by a force, and apparently only a few are capable of hearing that call.”
“What sort of call?”
The Bakka said, unexpectedly, “Why are you not asking this of the paladin?”
Even here in virtual space, she could feel her heart pulsing. “I will,” she stammered, pushing the words at the Bakka. His eyes were so bright and earnest. “But I want to be ready.”
The Bakka said, “They are few, but they exist. Anything else I tell you is hearsay. I do not believe one has ever come to Pax, and they do not fight in wars.”
“When do they fight?” she asked.
“When there is injustice, or so the legends go.”
She waited for the Bakka to volunteer more, but it seemed to be done. It looked at her with its buttony black eyes and she could see the question there again.
Why are you not asking this of the paladin?
Lassite meditated in the dry heat of his chamber. It was a turning point, another of them. So many of them coming up that the future was full of light and sparks. He could barely make out the path through the shifting glare.
And Jezli Farren. He had seen Roxana, understood the part she’d play, but Farren? He had never foreseen her and that meant that she was somehow outside all of this, as impossible as that might seem.
If the right people didn’t go on this expedition, it would fail. But even there—how would Farren’s presence affect things?
The ghosts were with him in their bag. If he let them out, they might go exploring again, upset the ship anew. But he opened the bag nonetheless and, rather than moving away, the ghosts stayed with him, rubbed their blunt, intangible snouts against his skin, a sensation less like a touch than a memory of one.
The universe was vast and dark and uncaring. But he had this crew. He would lead them through it.
He would figure out Jezli Farren and beat her at her own game, whatever it was.
We’re through the Gate now. I was worried that it might hurt you somehow. I looked and looked for anything about what the effects of that would be, but there wasn’t anything. Maybe you’re the first time someone’s taken a clone sac like that through Q-space.
Anyhow, everything looks fine. You look fine. There was a lot of yelling going on because the ship took on a couple of stowaways but I skipped over that because I didn’t care. Instead I went down to where you were, first thing, in order to make sure you were okay.
Every day I miss you and every day I think about the fact that you’re coming back. I think the others will be happy too. Ever since you died (struck out) left us things haven’t been the same. Dabry does make a lot of those crispy little fish I like, though, and sometimes if I look very unhappy, he gives me them just out of the fryer, still sizzling and so hot you can burn your lips on them.
Not that I’m not unhappy. You know how it is. Sometimes you make the most of things, because you might as well? Why be sad AND hungry when there are crispy fish?
Anyhow. Skidoo will be happy because Skidoo is always happy. Milly, who knows? She can be nice but sometimes when she is tired or angry, she is mean. Gio will be pleased because we can play warball again. Lassite likes things to stay the same, so he will be all right with it all. And who cares what the girl Atlanta thinks? She is new and worthless. She was there when you died and didn’t do anything to save you.
And the captain will understand that I did what I needed to do, and so will the sergeant. You’ll be able to help us, even. We’re through the Gate now, and next we’ll go to find Petalia, and then she’ll tell us how to defeat Tubal Last and you and I will go and kill him for what he did to you.