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it was dark. “Were you . . . going to say more about the lifeboat?”
    â€œOh. Right. Well, lifeboats were made to be hard to see. They were for escape, after all.”
    Sooth.
    The great ship must have been under attack. Lifeboats were filled and launched, in the hope that a few might escape the guns of the Chenzeme ship.
    Or so she imagined. She had no memory of those days. If she thought hard on it, she could remember the feel of her mother’s hands, or the sound of her father’s voice, but she could not remember an attack, she could not remember being put aboard the lifeboat, and she could not remember saying goodbye.
    â€œHow did Tannasen find the swan burster fragments?” she asked. “If they could not be seen?”
    â€œHe used radar. He built a small dish antenna, and launched it into the swan burster’s orbit. The antenna sends out pulses of radio waves. Then it listens, to see if any echoes come back. If there’s an echo, then there must be an object out there, reflecting the radio waves. One pass won’t yield much information, but the antenna can sweep the area over and over again, until a detailed image is assembled. It’s kind of like waving a flashlight in a dark room.”
    Skye imagined probing beams of radio waves searching the dust and pebbles of the nebula, feeling for the presence of a lifeboat. It could work. “How can I get permission to use radar?”
    Devi laughed. “Study astronomy for a century or two, I guess. There’s a huge waiting list for all the equipment . . . Why do you ask? The fragments from the swan burster have all been tagged. What else is there to find?”
    Skye felt a sudden heat in her cheeks. “Maybe nothing, but . . . there might be other lifeboats, like the one I came in.”
    â€œYou . . . ?” Devi’s voice skidded to a high note. “Then you’re . . .”
    â€œSkye Object 3270a. Yes.”
    â€œI . . . thought your name was Zia.”
    â€œZia’s my friend. She was supposed to come with me tonight. She couldn’t make it, and . . . I’m the one who really wants to know anyway.”
    He was silent for several seconds. Then, “Let’s go somewhere else, okay? And we can talk.”

Chapter 5
    T hey walked around to the dark glass doors of the apartment. “Just a minute,” Devi said.
    He touched the door handle and the apartment’s interior flooded with light. Through the glass panes Skye saw an exquisitely decorated living room, with red and gold carpets and black furnishings. Then her gaze shifted. For the first time, Devi was in the light. He was wearing gray slacks, with a black sweater and boots. His hair was bi-colored: an even mix of dark brown and red strands, tied in a loose ponytail behind his neck. He had given in to the ado boy fad for beards: there was a small triangle of dense, rusty-red fuzz on his chin. Heavy brown eyebrows sheltered almond-shaped eyes. The irises were green, flecked with gold. He smiled at Skye. “I’ll be right back.” Then he stepped inside.
    A streak of purple shot out from under a table, hitting Devi in the back of the knee. He stumbled. Skye heard him shout. Then the streak slowed down, resolving into a purple and gold dokey that leaped to Devi’s outstretched hand. He turned around to Skye and held his hand out for her to see. The little six-limbed creature clambered and swayed as it pulled itself upright. Devi shrugged helplessly. “Do you mind?”
    Skye laughed. “Not at all. What’s its name?”
    â€œJem. He’s from the second batch of dokeys ever made. I’ve had him since . . . since I was thirteen.” Jem had climbed up around Devi’s shoulders. The dokey started patting his long, straight hair, pinching together the red strands.
    Dokeys had been created only three years ago. Skye put the facts together. “So you’re sixteen?” she said as he returned