Andira reached for her as soon as she could, pulling their bodies close. “What is it today?” she asked.

  Salomen showed her the sallgreen twig, then crushed another leaf and held it up.

  “Early morning runs in the Snowmounts,” Andira said, and inhaled a second time. “On a cold autumn day with a cloudless sky.”

  “Winter for me. Deep in the woods by Blacksun Base.” She rolled the crushed leaf between her fingers, releasing more of the scent, and filled her lungs. After two more breaths, she dropped the used leaf and held out the twig.

  Andira carefully stored it in her jacket pocket, then slid one hand along Salomen’s jaw and the other behind her neck. “Initiating.”

  Salomen matched her hand positions and rested their foreheads together.

  The surge of power no longer jolted them. They were long used to it and welcomed it as an extension of themselves, holding it close and ready.

  Two hands came down on the back of her neck, warm and familiar: Pilannon and Savisi. Behind Andira, Jorsil and his bondmate were making the same connection. They initiated their own Sharing, completing the circuit and sending a new surge of power.

  Others added to it, couple by couple, in a smooth flow they had perfected over moons of training. Salomen had watched hologram playbacks and seen how it looked from the outside: a series of silent explosions of light, enveloping each couple until the whole group seemed to be in a shifting sphere of flame.

  Once she separated, that power would flow inward, lighting her and Andira until the brightness of the playback became difficult to watch. She often wished she could see it in real time.

  “I don’t feel anything,” Alejandra observed.

  “She hasn’t made the jump yet,” said Ekatya. “I’ll tell you when we’re ready.”

  “That’s a damn slow weapon, then.”

  “It’s time to isolate you. Phoenix, remove Dr. Wells from this call.”

  Reassured by Alejandra’s crankiness, Salomen reached inside herself and released the lock. Her empathic senses unfurled, bringing the joyous rush of freedom.

  Her first separation, at the age of ten, had been so incomprehensible to her young mind that she decided it hadn’t happened. Her second, just fifteen moons ago, had been uncontrolled and traumatic for everyone.

  She had full control over it now. The power she once feared she now embraced, glorying in its strength and the places it could take her.

  Somewhere overhead, the Phoenix orbited with more than one thousand and two hundred minds aboard. It was easier to locate than Rahel and Ekatya in a shuttle. Two minds were a mere speck of emotional output in the vastness of near orbit, but Ekatya’s crew created a beacon that drew her in.

  She gathered her strength and leaped.

  The shift was instantaneous, the power of thirty-one divine tyrees added to her own and driving her at the speed of thought.

  “This isn’t where I thought I’d land.” She turned in place, taking in the rows of high racks bursting with alien plants. A vine laden with black-and-red flowers dangled in the space her shoulder occupied, and she traced it to a tree branch overhead. The tree itself soared upward, its top brushing the ceiling four decks above.

  “Where are you?” Andira’s voice was soft, speaking to the physical body she had left far behind.

  “Hydroponics.”

  “It makes sense, in truth. It’s the part of the ship where you’re most comfortable.”

  “Not very useful for a Voloth ship, though, is it?”

  “Try to locate the bridge,” Andira urged. “Look for a concentration of minds that are—”

  “Like Andira,” said Ekatya. “Look for the ones that feel like her.”

  Salomen closed her eyes and focused. There were so many minds here, a roar of emotion pouring past in a torrent. She listened to the flow, waiting for something that felt right.

  There. A bright point, confidence and power and fierce focus on the task at hand, all leavened by concern. She reached for it and leaped again.

  With a startled laugh, she said, “I’m not on the bridge.”

  Ekatya spun around, eyes wide with the shock that blasted her senses. “Salomen?”

  “You can see me?” Salomen blurted. Dazzled by the dual voices, she reduced the volume of her earcuff. More sparks of surprise hit as Corozen and Alejandra stood up from their chairs, looking first at Ekatya and then around the room.

  “No, but I can hear you. From two different sources. Phoenix, reduce my com volume by eighty percent. Salomen, say something.”

  “Tell Alejandra that I’d like a tour of her indoor garden.”

  “Shekking Mother,” Ekatya gasped. “I really can hear you. How is that possible when Lhyn’s not in the link?”

  “Because Salomen is separated?” Andira guessed. “It does augment her powers by a considerable degree. Or it could be the combined power we’re feeding her.”

  “We’ll have to experiment,” Salomen said. “Find out whether it’s me or the thirty-one divine tyrees behind me.”

  Ekatya nodded, still dazed. “Right. We will. Great galaxies, this is unbelievable. You’re here.”

  “That was the point, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, but—” She shook her head and took control with an effort that rippled across Salomen’s senses. “Let’s do this. Alejandra, I need to speak with Micah privately before we start. May we use your bedroom? Or you can go in the bedroom and we’ll stay here.”

  “Go.” Alejandra waved a hand.

  Though visibly uncomfortable, Corozen straightened his shoulders and followed Ekatya.

  Left alone in the room, Alejandra fidgeted, wrapping her arms around her torso and beating out a rhythm with her fingers. Giving up on that, she picked up a thin stick from the table between the chairs and flipped it through her fingers with the ease of long practice.

  “I have to say, the idea of you being here and not being able to see or hear you is discomfiting.” Her gaze was fixed on the spinning bit of wood.

  “I understand.” Salomen was compelled to answer. “I think I should take you out for evenmeal. We can speak the way we haven’t had a chance to yet.”

  “I’d like to get to know you better,” Alejandra continued. “You and Tal are so important to Micah, and he’s . . . becoming very important to me.” The stick changed directions. “Sainted Shippers, I don’t recognize my life anymore. For all I know, I’m talking to myself.” She cast a quick look around the room and refocused on her stick. “About making a future with a man who isn’t of my species. That’s crazy enough, but my other option is that I’m talking to an apparition who used an incomprehensible power to send her mind into orbit. To think my biggest concern three years ago was whether or not I should stay in Fleet.”

  Salomen didn’t know how many cycles three years came out to, but she could guess.

  “Salomen,” Ekatya said on her earcuff. “We’re ready. Is she?”

  “Just a moment.” She watched Alejandra, still spinning the stick, and reminded herself that she had consent. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and reached into her unshielded mind.

  It was easy, too easy. Much simpler than projecting on Rahel, who had the built-in shielding of all Alseans. “She’s ready.”

  Alejandra’s head snapped up as the bedroom door opened. She relaxed her arm—but still held the stick, Salomen noted—and turned to face Ekatya as she emerged.

  “We’ve had a little accident. I was prepping Micah and, well . . .” Ekatya gestured at Corozen, who stepped out holding a blood-soaked cloth wrapped around his wrist.

  “What did you do?” Horrified, Alejandra dropped the stick and started forward.

  “Stop,” Ekatya said.

  She stopped instantly, compelled to obey with Salomen’s projection in her mind. But she still had her voice. “Ekatya, I need to treat him. It’s his wrist, for the love of flight, that’s too much blood. It looks like you nicked a vein!”

  Ekatya shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t treat him.”

  “I can’t—” Her mouth moved silently. “I can’t treat him.”

  She was resisting, but it was the helpless wriggling of a mouse trapped in the talons of a great bird of prey. Salomen almost let go, sickened by the tiny beating of a will against her own.

  “Hold on,” Andira whispered. “Just a tick or two longer.”

  The will in her grip beat more weakly. A few steps away, Alejandra looked at Corozen with agony written on her face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, you have to go to medbay. Right now.”

  “No.” Ekatya’s voice was steady, belying her own turmoil. “We can’t treat Alseans who aren’t serving in Fleet. It’s a new order; I only got it yesterday. He’ll have to go back to Alsea.”

  The will surged, finding strength from a source beyond Salomen’s grip. “With that much blood? Shek that order and take him to my medbay!”

  “I can’t disobey my orders. Neither can you. Tell Micah he’ll have to go to Blacksun for treatment.”

  Obey, Salomen thought. She desperately did not want to go deeper than this.

  Despair saturated the room as Alejandra clenched her trembling hands. “Micah, we can’t treat you here. You have to go to Blacksun. Wrap that as tightly as you can, keep pressure on it, and hold it above your heart. If you compress the vein enough, you’ll stop or at least slow the bleeding until someone else can help you.”

  “Fucking Hades.” Ekatya closed her eyes. “Salomen, stop. We’re done.”

  Salomen released her and sagged with relief. “She’s free.”

  “You’re—done? That was the test?” Alejandra crossed the room in a whirl of fury. “Let me see your wrist.”

  “It’s artificial blood,” Corozen said.

  “Let me see your wrist!”

  Hurriedly, he unwound the cloth and held out his arm. She seized it in a none-too-gentle hold, ran her fingers over the inside of his wrist, and let go with a growl.

  “That was low. I thought you’d order me to do something embarrassing. Or stupid. I can’t believe you’d force me to go against—dammit!” She turned away, anger collapsing into anguish.

  “Alejandra,” Ekatya began.

  “Don’t you even speak to me,” she snarled. “Either of you!”

  They looked at each other in distress and did not see her wipe her eyes.

  Salomen’s heart was breaking. “Put her back on the call. Then I want everyone else off. This is between me and her.”

  After a reluctant pause, Ekatya conceded. “Phoenix, transfer this call to Dr. Wells.”

  Alejandra shook her head and stalked toward the kitchen.

  “Alejandra,” Salomen said.

  “I don’t want to talk to you, either.”

  “Dr. Wells,” Andira said formally. “Please accept our apologies and our deepest gratitude. We will speak later.”

  In the kitchen, Alejandra pulled a square bottle from a cupboard.

  “You and Corozen need to go,” Salomen said.

  Ekatya nodded miserably. “Come on,” she said, tugging Corozen by the arm. He went unwillingly, never taking his eyes off Alejandra until he was through the door.

  She kept her back to him.

  “It’s just us,” Salomen assured her.

  “Did you not hear me say I don’t want to talk to you?”

  “I heard. I also heard what you said earlier, about getting to know me.”

  With a snort, Alejandra scooped up the short glass she had just filled and turned to lean against the counter. “You could hardly have picked a worse time.”

  “I’m so sorry about the test. Will you let me explain why we chose that?”

  “To tear my heart in half?”

  “Because if I have to do that for real, I’ll be forcing a Voloth captain to disobey orders. You know what happens to Voloth soldiers who disobey.”

  Alejandra silently sipped her drink, but she was listening.

  “I may even have to force them to act against deeply held beliefs. Making you do something foolish or embarrassing would not have been enough.”

  “I understand the logic. I still don’t want to talk to you.”

  It was a lie. She was wounded and covering it with anger that might have deceived a Gaian, but it did not deceive Salomen. Alejandra had chosen not to end this call.

  “Would you mind if I talked to you, then?”

  Silently, she waved a hand.

  “I’d like to get to know you better, too. So would Andira. You’re important to Corozen, and he’s precious to us.”

  “Corozen,” she scoffed. “Don’t you know he prefers Micah?”

  “I’m the only one who calls him that. Me and my family. We’re producers; the warrior family name tradition doesn’t come naturally to us. He made an allowance for us, and I didn’t realize until later how great an allowance that was. But he didn’t have to do that for you. You’re a scholar who understands warriors.”

  “I’m not understanding them at the moment. I asked him here to support me. Not take part in that—” With a jerky movement, she lifted her glass and took a gulp.

  “We had planned to use Rahel. Corozen told us that would be worse for you.”

  She paused, then set her glass on the counter and crossed her arms. “He was right about that, at least.”

  “Please believe me when I say I’m sorry. I’ve been dreading this test for a nineday.”

  That held her attention. “Why?”

  “Because I had to act against some deeply held beliefs.”

  Alejandra tilted her head, comprehension expanding through the room.

  “Until now, it was all distance testing and making Rahel happy. This is the first time I had to do something . . . damaging. I wanted it to be Commander Lokomorra. Someone I wouldn’t have to look in the eye afterward.”

  Her stiff posture crumbled as she dropped her face in her hands. “What a sewage sump. I’m hurt, you’re hurt, Ekatya hated to ask me, Micah—damn.”

  “I know. But it had to be done. We cannot be learning how this works during a Voloth attack. I couldn’t even find the bridge today.”

  “Is that where you were trying to go?”

  “At the start. I landed in hydroponics first.”

  Alejandra’s lips thinned as a faint glimmer of humor showed through. “Not the best tactical option.”

  “Ekatya told me to look for minds that felt like Andira. That brought me straight here.”

  “To her.” A tiny smile lifted one side of her mouth. “Only Ekatya would think that was useful advice, because only she would think she’s not unique on this ship. You want to find the bridge on a Voloth ship? Look for the highest concentration of arrogance. The minds that don’t care how much harm they do, because it’s their prerogative.”

  “That’s . . . good advice,” Salomen said slowly.

  They were silent then, and she wondered if she should break the link. Alejandra was feeling better, the razor edges of her pain blunted by understanding. Surely Ekatya and Corozen would be better options now?

  “Salomen.”

  “Yes?”

  “That moment when Ekatya told me to stop—” She cleared her throat. “I couldn’t move. It didn’t even occur to me that it was possible. Is that what happened to Rahel? When she was seventeen?”

  “Yes,” Salomen whispered. “He froze her in place, and then he hurt her.”

  Alejandra retrieved her glass and drank off a sizable amount. “He deserved to die.”

  There was no good response to that.

  “If she hadn’t killed him, if he was caught, what would have happened?”

  “It’s the worst crime possible. He would have been buried underground in the fifth level of the Pit for the rest of his miserable life.”

  “Good.” She tipped back the remainder of her glass, slapped it on the counter, and crossed her arms again. “You asked for my consent three times. And apologized I don’t know how many times in the past five ticks. You’re not like him.”

  “No. But I still hurt you.”

  She acknowledged that with a nod. “You have powers that defy medical understanding. They’re fearsome in a way I never comprehended before now. I’m glad you’re on our side.”

  “I’m glad you are, too.” Salomen spoke automatically, the diplomatic words covering her dawning realization: Alejandra was not afraid. Despite the pain that still radiated from her, she did not fear its cause.

  She had offered absolution.

  Gratitude made Salomen’s voice catch. “Thank you. Andira will say it on behalf of Alsea, but I’m speaking for myself. Thank you for not—for understanding.”

  Alejandra dropped her head back and took a deep breath. “I’d say you’re welcome, but nothing about that was welcome. Thank you for staying. It did help. You already know that, don’t you?”

  “I’m . . . happy to sense that you’re feeling better.”

  “Less likely to take the heads off those two, at least. Isn’t this using an enormous amount of power? Go home. We can keep talking the old-fashioned way.”

  “You’re not ending the call?”

  “I’m not ready to talk to them yet. But this is the first chance I’ve had to really talk to you. Unless you have other plans?”

  “I have no other plans. Give me a moment, I’m going now.”

  She remembered a time when returning to her body had been an effort. Now it was an anchor, calling her back. As soon as she thought of it, standing in a sunny meadow with the State House domes towering behind, she landed with a jarring impact.

  Her senses collapsed in a tangled confusion, no longer fitting this unresponsive receptacle. She barely managed to drag her eyes open.

  Andira broke the Sharing at the same moment and pulled the sallgreen twig from her pocket. Moving swiftly, she yanked off several leaves and clamped them between her teeth, then lifted Salomen’s hand and closed it around the twig.

  The pointy, prickly twig jolted her physical body out of its stasis. While she instinctively clenched her hand, increasing the pressure and the sensory input, Andira retrieved the leaves, crushed them, and held them beneath her nose.