“I…No.”

“Officer Kahn will escort you to your room.”

“Shall I call Sergeant Lu Wai here first, ma’am?” Kahn asked.

“That won’t be necessary. And when you return, take a position at the other end of the corridor.”

Kahn looked surprised, Cardos scared. “You won’t hurt her?”

“No.” She would not have to. She stepped into sick bay.

The room was small, low‑ceilinged; the walls were a soft spring green. It held two beds, a screen, and a framed print on the wall opposite the door. There were no windows. Relman was clinged to the nearest bed; she looked better, not the awful pinched white of the evening before.

Just you and me, Relman.

“One last time, Relman. Tell me what I need to know.”

Relman ignored her.

“This isn’t a game, Lieutenant, and my time and patience have just run out. I don’t want to drug you, but I will.”

This time Relman looked at her. “No, I don’t think so. Using drugs against another’s will is illegal and unethical. I know you, Danner, You won’t do it.”

Relman really believed that, Danner thought, and then was angry: with Company, with Hiam, with Relman herself for forcing her to do this.

“God dammit, Relman. Listen to me. Really listen. Forget what you know about fair play and employee rights. Right now, above our heads, people aboard the Kurstare trying to decide whether or not to kill us all or simply abandon us. I need what you know. Hundreds of lives may depend upon it, and that supersedes all my notions of right and wrong. Believe me, I will use drugs.”

Relman paled a little. “Then go ahead. I’m not telling you anything.”

Stupid, stupid woman.

Danner took the foil package from her pocket. When she tore it open, it released a faint antiseptic smell. Use a pre‑op patch, Hiam had said, a muscle relaxant. She’ll stay awake for twenty minutes or more, and she won’t care what she talks about. I’ve had people tell me the weirdest things while they’re under.

Danner rolled up Relman’s right trouser leg and slapped the patch harder than necessary behind her knee. She could have saved herself this, Danner thought fiercely, it was in her hands. I’m not to blame. I’m not. But as she waited, she wished she were a thousand miles away.

After two minutes, Relman began to hum. Danner recognized the tune as one that had been popular on Gallipoli about eight years ago.

“Did you know, Hannah,” Relman said conversationally, “that clings are erotically stimulating? Something to do with the electricity, I think. Makes all my nerves feel alive, and my body–”

“I don’t want to know about your body. I want you to answer my questions. Who is the other spy?”

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you–” She would try another way. “Is there another spy?”

“Oh, yes.” Relman nodded. “Oh yes, yes, yes.” She could not seem to stop nodding.

“How do you know?”

“She talks to me. On my comm.”

“Is she someone you know?”

“I don’t think so. The voice is all funny–comes through a digital coder. But I always know it’s her because she uses a code number.” Relman smiled brightly, eager to be helpful.

“How often does she contact you, and why?”

“Now and again. To tell me who to listen in on, stuff like that. I have to do what she tells me, but not only what she tells me. I called the Kurston my own initiative. I thought, ‘Why should Danner be able…’”

Relman’s voice trailed off, and she frowned. There was a sudden stink of feces. She giggled. “Oops.” Then she smiled again, as though it was a tremendous joke that she was incontinent and incapable.

Danner gritted her teeth. It was not her fault; she had needed this information. She had had no choice. Relman had.

“Why did you do it, Relman?”

“Well, ma’am, you didn’t seem quite right.” Relman grunted; urine pooled on the bed, dripped slowly to the floor. “First of all, you sided with SEC and the natives against Company. Then it, well…” She trailed off, smiled at nothing in particular. Danner waited. “We’ve been here almost five years, and the last four all we’ve done is mark time: no serious exploration, no mining. And then there’s the mods. The mods the mods the mods.”

Danner waited. “The mods?”

“You know, officers and technicians are decorating them. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before. Disturbing. Yes. Disturbing, disturbing, disturb–”

“Why?”

“And you’ve been reducing the guard complement. And Mirrors wear armor less and less, and off‑duty civvies are handmade. Think of that, a Mirror wearing handmade clothes…” Relman suddenly seemed to focus. “And when I heard you’d ordered the fence down, what was I supposed to think?”

“You could have come and asked me.”

Relman went on as though Danner had not spoken. “It just seemed to me that you’ve been undermining us, ma’am. Gradually making us seem less and less different to the natives.” Her words were slow now, and slurred. ”Maybe you want us to be natives. But we’re not. We’re not. Only this bit of the world’s ours. And you wanted to take down the boundaries, muddle it all up, let them in. We are who we are, but you’re letting it all get confused. We don’t know why we’re here any more.”

Silence.

“Relman?”

“So confused…” The words trailed off into a snore.

Danner stepped closer, looking down at her officer. Relman, who had seemed so young, so eager. Whom she had led to this. So confused…

Danner did not want anyone else to see Relman like this; she rolled up her sleeves.

When she left, the clings were at her belt, and Relman, clean and naked, was covered by a light sheet, sound asleep. Danner dropped the used pre‑op patch in a receptacle and used her command code to lock the door. When she reached the end of the corridor, Kahn stood to attention, face carefully bland.

“Relman’s locked in. Check on her visually in about twenty minutes, then join us in the convalescent room.”

We don’t know why we’re here any more. Was Relman right? she wondered as she turned down another cheerfully painted corridor to meet Lu Wai and Dogias.

The pastel‑toned room with its huge picture windows was empty. She watched the snow falling outside. We don’t know why we’re here any more. She had not been able to answer that at the time, but now, watching the snow, the alien sky just beyond the fragile glass of the window, she could. They were here to survive.

“Any way we can,” she murmured, as the door behind her opened.

“Any way we can what?” Dogias swung off her jacket, began to brush the melting snow from her hair.

“Survive.” Danner turned back to the window. She saw Dogias’s reflection sling her jacket over the back of a chair.

“Well, survival’s always a good place to start.” Dogias combed through her hair with her fingers. “Why do they keep these places so hot?” She wiped her wet hands down her hip shawl. “So, did our caged bird sing?”

“Eventually.”

Dogias gave her a hard look. “But?”

Danner sighed. “But I hated it, Letitia.” She would not tell Dogias about the drugs. That was between her and Relman. “What she said disturbed me. She thinks that what I’ve been doing, all the sensible precautions like reducing the guard duty–because who needs guards when the natives just want to stay away?–like letting things relax a little because we’re going to be here for… well, a long time at least… She thinks all my orders are designed to undermine us. To demoralize and confuse everyone. I’m beginning to think she might be right.”

“Well, I’m not confused.”

“No, but…”

“But what? Everything yo’ve done has made sense to me.”

“But is it the kind of thing another commander would have done?”

“Who cares? You’re the only commander w’ve got. You can have my opinion, if it matters to you. I think you’ve done much better than any other commander I can think of. After all, you’ve learned on the job; you’ve got the right skills; you haven’t tried to apply irrelevant rules to an extraordinary situation. You’ve put common sense and compassion before policy. The way I see it, that makes you a superb commander for the people here on the ground. It might not look too good to those who aren’t here. To Company hierarchy.” Dogias raised an eyebrow. “But we kind of knew that already.”