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Elissa had agreed that they would eat lunch with the crew of the
Phoenix
, and at the time it had seemed like the easiest answer to give. But now that she and Lin were following the wall-markers to the crew’s dining area, she wished she’d thought of an excuse. Their cover story had been enough to get them onto the ship, but was it enough to hold up through half an hour or more of talking with the whole crew?

Heart beating so hard that she felt the blood pounding inside her head, felt it vibrating under her skin, she touched the door panel.

The door opened on a blast of conversation and the scent of spices and rice. The crew—fifteen people—was gathered around a long table, slightly curved to follow the curve of the spaceship wall.

Stewart James stood up the moment they came in, his smile flashing out at them. “Our newest passengers! Ms. Ivory, Ms. May, come find a seat.” The look of shock he’d worn after the pirate attack was gone, and he was once again the cheerful young man who’d invited them to the flight deck, assuring them Cadan would welcome the visit.

Which he completely didn’t
.

Elissa pushed away the thought, plus any others threatening to distract her, and smiled back, as bright and bland as if her head had nothing important in it at all.

Cadan wasn’t there, and Stewart made the introductions—a jumble of names and positions she couldn’t keep track of and wouldn’t remember. The only person who stood out was
the chef, Ivan, a long-armed gorilla of a man, untidy even in his white chef’s uniform. He wasn’t just the chef, obviously. Everyone on an SFI crew had to be multifunctional.
Does he wear a different uniform the rest of the time?
Elissa wondered, a random, fleeting thought.

After spending the first few minutes vibrating with nerves, Elissa realized that although the crew was polite and relatively friendly, they weren’t interested enough in either her or Lin to be the risk she’d feared. They were all a good ten years older than Bruce, so although either Cadan or Stewart had told them she was Bruce’s sister, and several of them were courteous enough to say they hoped he’d be out of quarantine soon, they were not his fellow cadets in the way Cadan and Stewart were, and they had no personal interest in Elissa as his sister.

Cadan came in just as Ivan uncovered the long metal dishes in the middle of the table. Cadan looked as relaxed as if the earlier attack had never happened, but he was wearing not only the obligatory wrist unit that connected him to the bridge, but also the nonessential earpiece, a small black clip that fitted over the top of his ear. He threw a quick greeting around the room, then took a seat at the head of the table, a couple of pl activated. Security breached at Section is thoughtaces away from where Elissa and Lin sat.

Elissa looked down, twitching her napkin into her lap. Earlier, on the flight deck, the thought of telling him everything had flashed, tempting and treacherous, into her head. It had been wiped out almost instantly, but all the same, seeing him in his official garb, uniform jacket buttoned up to his neck, earpiece snug against his ear, taking without hesitation the highest-ranked place at the head of the table, her stomach dropped with the horrified realization
that she could have betrayed herself and Lin to him.

It was another danger she hadn’t thought about: the danger of the weakness within herself that had driven her to ask help of her parents, of her brother, that could drive her into asking help of even SFI officials if they looked at her with kindness, if she let herself think they could be trusted.

The crew’s conversation flowed over and around them, letting them sit undisturbed, a huge relief after what Elissa had feared. And the food was delicious—
real
food, after the snack bars and machine nutri-packs they’d been eating for what seemed like days. Fragrant fish curry and long-grain rice, pale yellow, spiked with cumin seeds and cardamom pods. But Elissa only enjoyed it until she glanced sideways and saw Lin, both elbows on the table, napkin lying ignored, scooping up forkfuls of fish and sauce far too fast to be polite.

Embarrassment flashed over Elissa even quicker than fear. She’d seen Lin eat before, but it had always been in hurried, informal circumstances—she hadn’t noticed, hadn’t thought to anticipate, that Lin’s table manners wouldn’t be the same as those of the upper sections of Sekoian society.

Of course they aren’t. Of
course—
I was stupid not to think about it. And I should be ashamed to be embarrassed of her. It’s not her fault
.

Elissa gritted her teeth against the instinctive cringing as Lin put down her fork and picked up her water glass without first wiping her fingers, leaving a smudge on the smooth surface of the glass. She shouldn’t be embarrassed, but she was right to be afraid. Anything that showed Lin as different, anything that drew suspicion onto them . . . they couldn’t afford that. Not on this Sekoian ship.

At Elissa’s right, Stewart stood up and stepped over the bench to go refill his water glass at the wall dispenser. As Lin picked her fork back up and speared a piece of fish, Elissa seized the opportunity and slid her left hand over to touch Lin’s elbow. Lin glanced at her questioningly.

Elissa flicked a look down at Lin’s fork, then at where her own right hand was poised just above the table, her elbow tucked neatly down at her side, her napkin laid across her lap.

Lin’s eyes followed her gaze, then came back up, a look of bewilderment in them. Elissa leaned over so her mouth was next to Lin’s ear. “Table manners,” she murmured as softly as she could.

For an instant, understanding showed in Lin’s face; then color swept over it, a wave of visible humiliation. All at once Elissa remembered how Lin had looked when Elissa had discovered the hole in the back of her head. Ashamed, as if it were her fault. As if somehow she were responsible for every horrific thing that had been done to her.

Lin moved her elbows off the table, then pulled her napkin into her lap, her fingers tight on it, crumpling the thin paper. When she next picked up her fork. “Thank you.”rt, her movements betrayed an almost painful caution, and her cheeks still burned.

I had to warn you. I had to. We can’t afford to make anyone suspicious
. Now that it was too late, Elissa thought of a host of other ways she could have warned Lin without humiliating her. Tense with remorse, with the knowledge that she’d hurt her sister and couldn’t take it back, she stole a quick look up to see if anyone was watching—and met Cadan’s eyes.

His gaze jolted her, turning her skin cold.
Oh God, of all people
—
it has to be Cadan watching. He’ll have noticed. The lies I told him
—
they won’t hold up if he decides to investigate.

But after a second she realized it wasn’t suspicion in his eyes. It was something close to distaste.

He reached for his napkin, then leaned forward, speaking past Elissa. “Ms. May, can I pass you anything?”

Lin looked up, already shaking her head, and as she did, Cadan planted both elbows on the table, fork still held in the fingers of one hand. With the other he crumpled his napkin, then dropped it to lie, creased and messy, next to his plate. He smiled at Lin, the warm smile Elissa remembered from a long time ago. “Ivan tells me he has something else delicious prepared for tonight’s meal—I hope you’ll join us again?”

“I . . .” Lin shot an indecisive look at Elissa. “I’m not sure.”

“I don’t think so.” Elissa spoke quickly, trying to sound polite. “It’s very kind of you, but we’ll be fine in our cabin.”

Cadan didn’t even glance at her. He spoke again to Lin, his words very clear, elbows still firmly on the table. “That’s a shame, Ms. May. We’d be very happy to have you join us, if you’d like to. There’s entirely no need to feel you should stay in your cabin.” Then his eyes did flick to Elissa, and the emphasis in his last sentence was beyond clear.

He’d seen her gesture to Lin. He’d seen Lin’s embarrassment, seen her careful changing of the way she ate. But of course he couldn’t know that Elissa was trying to keep them both blended in, unremarkable, unmemorable. He thought—
Oh, for God’s sake!
Heat rushed into her face, until she knew it must be glowing as hot as Lin’s had a minute earlier.
He thinks I’m criticizing Lin’s table manners, humiliating her, for no other reason than that I want her to fit in. He thinks I’d
do
that to someone—someone who’s supposed to be my friend.

For a flaming instant she wanted to set him straight, wanted to tell him she didn’t
care

about table manners, that he had
no idea
what was going on in her head. And that even if that had been what was going on, it was none of his business—it wasn’t his duty to defend Lin against her. She bit back the impulse, looked away, and, despite her appetite having disappeared, took another mouthful of curry.

“That’s both of you, of course, isn’t it, Captain?” Stewart stepped back across the bench into his place. Elissa looked up and found him smiling down at her. “He should have insisted you join us for breakfast, too. The nutair-filtration system, the Artri-machines will keep you alive, sure, but it’s not like we’re a warship—there’s no reason you should stay in your quarters.”

“I did extend an invitation,” Cadan said, his voice cool and detached.

Stewart laughed. “Yes, but did you
insist
?” He sat down and smiled again at Elissa, as if inviting her to join him in his lighthearted mockery of Cadan. “He sometimes overlooks these little niceties, Ms. Ivory—you’ll have to excuse him.”

Out of politeness Elissa responded to his smile, but she was rigid with discomfort. Surely Cadan’s copilot must be able to pick up the stiffness in Cadan’s voice, the flush still burning in her cheeks? Was he a particular friend of Bruce’s, that he felt he had to make his sister welcome on board the ship? But if so, surely she’d have heard about him before?

At that point someone at the other side of the captain’s place spoke to Cadan, and his attention was drawn away for a moment.

Stewart leaned a little closer. “Hey. Honestly, Ms. Ivory, we’d be happy to have you both join us. You don’t need to be shy. And you don’t need to wait for an invitation from the captain, either!” He smiled at her again, and suddenly Elissa saw in his smile what she should have seen before.
What maybe she would have seen if she hadn’t been out—
way out
—of the dating scene for so long.

He wasn’t being kind to a friend’s little sister. He wasn’t looking at her like she was anyone’s little sister at all.

It threw her into instant confusion—partly flattered surprise, but shot through with pure alarm. She didn’t know how to do this anymore. And she couldn’t afford to have him interested in her—not like that, not like
any
way.

She felt the blush climbing back into her face and fought to suppress it. The last thing she needed was for him to think
she
was interested in him. If she left the ship and he wanted to keep in touch, she’d have to lie to him, lead him to think he’d be able to do so, that Elissa Ivory wasn’t going to change her hair and name and disappear. She couldn’t do that, couldn’t be so ruthless.

But if I do, if I do lead him on to think I’m interested, at least it will take his attention away from Lin
. The thought came as if from somewhere outside her own head—or from a part of her she hadn’t known about or acknowledged, a cold, calm streak sl

TO BEGIN WITH,
Stewart said nothing. He sat silently while Cadan repeated what Elissa had told him, his gaze moving between both sisters, although it remained longer on Lin. Taking in, Elissa assumed, the similarities they’d done their best to hide. His face didn’t stay as blank as Cadan’s had, but although she saw his lips tighten, saw a muscle jump in his jaw, she didn’t know him well enough to be able to read his expression.
He’s been really nice to us
—
mostly me, but Lin, too. And it was Cadan I lied to, and he doesn’t hate me
—
I don’t think
—
so there’s no reason for Stewart to . . .