Page 48

The infirmary occupied one of the warmer buildings near the eastern vent. Its walls had been sealed with resin and strips of ship plating, and six narrow cots stood beneath hanging tubes filled with filtered water, herbal infusions, and medicines scavenged from at least four different medical systems.

Lina lay awake on the second cot.

Her face crumpled the moment she saw Kesta.

“Mira?”

The single word erased everything else.

Kesta crossed the room and sat beside her.

Lina’s hand found hers before Kesta had decided whether to reach for it. Her fingers were cold.

Kesta held on.

“She died during transport.”

Lina stared at her as if the words had arrived in a language the translator could not handle.

“No. They took her to medical.”

“They injected everyone before deployment.” Kesta watched Lina’s face carefully. “Mira reacted badly. Lysa and I tried to resuscitate her until the launch alarm sounded.”

Lina’s fingers tightened painfully around hers.

“Did she wake?”

“For part of it.”

“Did she know I was alive?”

Kesta wished she had a kinder answer.

“I don’t know.”

Lina turned her face away.

Kesta could have invented something. She had done enough death notifications to know exactly which lies people wanted offered: She wasn’t afraid. She didn’t suffer. She knew you loved her. She died peacefully.

Sometimes those things were true.

Sometimes they were gifts made out of desperation.

Kesta had never been good at giving gifts she could not prove.

“But she talked about your family,” she said.

Lina looked back.

“She made me remember names. Toma Orr. Melei Orr. Dav.”

Lina covered her mouth with her free hand.

“Our parents.” Tears filled her eyes. “Dav is our brother.”

Kesta nodded.

“He collects engine seals,” she added. “Mira said he thinks she worked on ships because she loves the stars.”