I wish I could say that the flight was exciting or that things got easier. I wish I could say I talked everything over with Sparrow, or that I apologized to Alex. But mostly, I distracted myself with work. I figure I can actually be productive without girding myself to talk about my feelings. Ugh.

  I tackle the interrogatories and admissions first, since the clock is ticking. Most of my answers are straightforward and direct; there's no point in trying to spin anything. There's a couple of potential issues. The bigger issue is Communion. I give as accurate a description of the hostile, lethal super-sapient malware as I can, though I leave out it's apparent xenos origin and the involvement of Captain Gupta. Not only would blaming aliens destroy my credibility, it might prompt someone to point a telescope at the Andromeda Signal to find out for themselves.

  Well, there's no reason they'd expect me to know some malware's source, so I leave that answer vague. The fact that my previously submitted and approved case reports substantiate some of it will help, and there's no direct evidence left anyway. I should be able to play stupid if anyone persists in digging there. However, there's a smaller, more urgent problem. Sparrow.

  I leave the sections regarding her identity blank for now. The questions are direct, there's no way to avoid answering without it being blatant. Even if I imply I was the one who piloted the shuttle down, and that she wasn't there, I can't avoid naming her as the owner. Ah, no, that lie by omission wouldn't stand up to real scrutiny.

  I can either give up her name, or let them nail me to the wall instead. And Sparrow would never forgive me if I took the fall for her. And Lucy would never forgive me if I gave her daughter up. What a void-spawned mess.

  I sigh, saving my incomplete responses and closing the file out of my overlay. I still have a day and change to figure it out. I reach up and rub my temple with a hand, linking into the Chimera to check the route and progress. I could ask Sparrow. But she's busy. Piloting. Probably has a lot of docking procedures to prep for. She doesn't need me bothering her. I should let her focus. Do her thing.

  The route blooms in silver in my overlay. Two hours out from Ganymede. The route shows a spiraling deceleration and descent down the gravity well. The silver swirl ends at the docking port that rests on the dark plain of the lunar surface. The port, the core of the station, rises like an enormous spiky white bur. Aquila Station; I have no idea why it's named after an eagle when it looks more like a sea urchin.

  The civilian habitations sprawl out from the station like mold growth; they splay in every direction without apparent pattern or design. Many domes stand out on the surface, like shiny blisters, but these account for only a quarter of the volume. The rest is tunneled through the ice itself. Humankind has dug deep into the moon, forming something akin to an ant colony or termite mound. Huh, there's probably a metaphor somewhere in there.

  Ganymede is the closest the Jovian gets to a metropolitan center. It's fairly wealthy; at the same time, its residents are poor as hell. The moon offers about 15% Earth's gravity, so it's survivable long-term. It has a molten core, so there's a magnetic field that provides some natural radiation protection. The thick ice crust itself acts as natural radiation shielding, letting locals build new habitation beneath the surface without the need for extensive, and expensive, active shielding. The cost of living is dirt cheap.

  And the surface is almost entirely ice, which is useful. Ice is water. With simple electrolysis, ice is oxygen and hydrogen. Ice is air. Ice is fuel, for both chemical rockets and fusion generators. Ganymede sells ice to stations and colonies all over the solar system. Humanity will always need water, and that means Ganymede will always be able to sell ice.

  But there's ice in the Kuiper too, and the other Jovian stations. There's ice on Titan, there's ice on Earth, there's even icy comets to be snagged and mined from time to time. Many celestial bodies have ice caps to some extent. There's no exclusivity or monopoly; that means Ganymede is never going to get rich selling ice. The moon grows its own food cheaply, in large domes on the surface. After all, there's plenty of water. And hydrocarbons can be imported from Calisto, since it's just a hop away.

  But they have to import everything else; tech costs through the nose. So where is the average resident to make their money? With distractions. With culture. With fun. With bread and circus.

  Ganymede sells entertainment. More than ice, Ganymede sells gambling, it sells rum, it sells drugs. It sells its own grunge art scene, it sells its bespoke music, and it sells sex. It's rumored that, deep in the subsurface tunnels, you can find someone selling just about anything, legal or not.

  It sells to all of the intersystem transporter workers, the long-haul freight crews. They sell to the Navy boys visiting from Io. It sells to miners staking their claims in the ice. Ganymede sells whatever people want to buy to forget their problems. If I'm really lucky, maybe someone is selling some coffee. It would make a nice gift for Sparrow, and I can apologize for being a chrome-licking moron.

  I sigh, tapping my fingers on the pad. Crap. Well, there's no updates on my cases. No more work I can get done. I take a slow look around the bedroom. After all, it's Sparrow's bedroom. It's filled with designs she chose, pieces she bought. Filled with a lifetime of memories of her family. Souvenirs of the places she's been.

  I sigh and stand, the engines giving just enough feeling of gravity for me to bounce lightly on the balls of my feet. It’s only a few steps to the bathroom, and I push open the door before turning to the mirror. The room is little more than a toilet, sink, and square sponge-bathing suite. It’s cramped, but it’s a luxury compared to torpor.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Torpor. Alex must have gone through that too, to get out here. Looking at my arm in the mirror, I can’t help but notice the puckered white scar. A gift from Rusteater; I suppose we all collect some souvenirs, in a way. Well, let's clean up and face the day. And Sparrow.

  Dressing is quick and perfunctory. I keep the tank top and add some black composite pants and a jacket. Maybe not the most professional, but if that ends up mattering for the hearing, it's probably not going to end favorably whatever I do. I open the door and peek my head into the cockpit. "Sparrow? Everything alright?"

  She looks back over her shoulder. "I should be asking you that, Melody. You were in there for a while. And you were quiet..."

  I step up and settle into the copilot seat, not quite meeting her eye. "Yeah, I just had some thinking to do. And I decided to get some work done on those interrogatories."

  "Oh." She bites her tongue, looking forward towards the nav console. "I'm sorry."

  I shake my head quickly. "It's not your fault."

  She finally turns her head and meets my eye. "I pulled the trigger, Melody," she says softly.

  I clench my fist. "To save me. And stop!" I say when she opens her mouth. "We don't need to do this. Trade blame back and forth. It's just... I'm sorry. I'm... trying."

  She nods. "I know. And... Alex?"

  I blow a breath out between my lips. "I dunno. Give me some time. I'll figure it out."

  She gives me a fragile smile. "Got it." She turns back to the console, and a moment of silence goes by. "Think... you'll... I'm mean, that he... on Ganymede..." she trails off.

  "Do I think that I'll run into him?" I huff, saving her. "We'll handle it when it comes. Forget that, let's talk gameplan for the surface."

  She snorts, but nods. "Well, I'd be happy to be there for you at the hearing-"

  "No, thanks, but I think I can handle it," I say quickly, cutting her off. "I love the support, but I'm a big girl." I smile at her. "Besides, you should take some time for yourself. It's Ganymede, have some fun; grab a drink, win another part for the Chimera," I tease.

  I get a genuine smile from her there. "Oh? Good memory. You don't strike me as a gambler yourself."

  I shrug, turning to look at the course on the nav display. "Life is a gamble. But it's not my vice. Maybe I'll try the rum, I hear it's the best in the system."

  Sparrow rolls her eyes. "Yeah? You want to celebrate if it goes well?"

  I chuckle at that. "Or drink for solace if I botch it," I say, giving her a smile. "But get the Chimera squared away. I'll ping you when the hearing is done, and we'll meet up. You know any places?"

  She giggles. "I've been all over the Jovian. I've been to Ganymede a couple of times. There's a jazz club near the docks, actually."

  I tilt my head at that. "Oh? Jazz, huh? Just like Lucy?"

  "She has great tastes, what can I say?" She sticks out her tongue. "You get to the hearing; I'll make sure the Chimera is docked and get her fueled."

  I lean over and slip an arm around her shoulder, giving a squeeze. "Thanks, Sparrow."

  She elbows me back. "Don't thank me. If I'm your rideshare, then you're paying the docking fee. And paying for fuel."

  I laugh, and the tension drains out of me. "Good thing Aquila station is sitting on a hundred miles thick sheet of ice. Gas is cheap."

  The landing is smoother than Europa. The atmosphere is roughly the same low density, but we have a better intercept course plotted; the relative orbits of the moons work out in our favor. For another, we're able to bleed off some velocity simply heading up Jupiter's gravity well.

  There's barely any turbulence by comparison. And a sheathe of color seems to sweep the thin atmosphere as high-energy particles hit Ganymede's magnetic field. It's like an aurora, but wilder. Brighter, lower to the ground, and writhing more actively. It's bright enough to actually hurt my eyes until they adjust, and I lift a hand to shield my face.

  Sadly, the aurora doesn't extend to the station's latitude. The ferrocrete structure that Sparrow lands the Chimera on is a wide, worn strip at ground level, just away from the spiny starport. Each long spine is a gate, airlock, and service arm. Each has fueling, diagnostic, and repair equipment. And each spine is separate, so any disaster doesn't affect the whole station. Can't keep the customers waiting, after all.

  The shuttle touches down with a shudder on the wide platform and locking mechanism. I hear a loud clang as the locking levers clamp onto the cargo hold of the Chimera. As I check in with the field office digitally and pull up a map of the station in my overlay, I hear a gasp from Sparrow.

  I flick the overlay off, seeing the smart-ink tattoo disappear from her arms and legs. Sparrow's face is white as a sheet, her eyes wide, and I feel a pit open in my belly. "Sparrow? What's wrong?"

  She turns her bloodless face to me. "I just got an alert from medical. About my mother."

  My train of thought derails, and my mouth works wordlessly for a moment. "What? Did something happen." You chrome-licking moron, of course something happened!

  Sparrow's lips quiver. "The recyclers next door; there was some sort of leak," she says, breath catching. "There was a broken seal, and it blew. There was a gas explosion."

  The hair rises on my arms. "Holy void spawned fuck... how bad?"

  "Bad." Sparrow swallows and takes a breath. "No breach into vacuum, but two people are dead."

  An icy chill runs down my spine, heart pounding. "Your mom... is Lucy ok?"

  "I don't know!" She shivers, and I reach out to hug her before she holds up a hand, shaking her head. "The only thing I got was an alert from medical. She's alive, but in critical condition. I don't have any more details."

  "A gas explosion..." the hair rises on my arms. In a pressurized station, the pressure differential caused by an explosion is so much worse. "I'm so sorry, Sparrow."

  "Don't be. If I hadn't been giving you a ride, I might be in medical with her. Or... the morgue," she trails off, biting her tongue.

  My heart hammers in my chest, and I lick my lips. "Shit. Of course, you have to go back-"

  "I can't just leave you here," she says, holding both hands up.

  I frown. "Sparrow... I'm a big girl. I can sit for a hearing without you holding my hand."

  She just shakes her head again, hanging it, blue bangs falling in front of her eyes. "No, I can't leave you on a moon with no ride, and no help. You don't know the people, or the area..."

  I take a long, slow breath. "Sparrow, I was a cop for years. Yeah, there's currents and politics to any area. Places and people can always be dangerous. But I'm not stupid or looking to take risks. I'm going to a hearing. I'll stick near the port. You can come back for me, or I can book a ride back to Io on a charter vessel. Go, be there for your mom," I say, reaching out and rubbing her shoulder.

  Sparrow squeezes her eyes shut. "Are you sure?"

  I'm damn sure I'm not asking you to stay here if she could die. "Please. Go. I'll feel better knowing you'll be there for her. And the other way around too."

  Tears spill down Sparrow's cheeks and she collapses. I grab her and pull her to me as she sobs against my chest, and I reassure her that everything will be ok.

  We always say that, don't we? Even when it won't all be ok. And If I knew what was about to happen, I would have stayed onboard and went back to Io with her.