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Pipit had crushed with her fingers. His pale eyes were steady and open, though I still couldn’t read what was behind them. He shook my hand before I could pull it back.
    “I’m glad you survived,” he said. “My name is Thrush.” His voice was husky and smooth as heavy silk. I stared, uncertain how to react, while he searched my face, reading the state of my health with more accuracy than Abel ever had. I was still physically weak and psychologically vulnerable, and he knew it. He touched me lightly on the shoulder, then turned and dove down the passageway. A few meters away, he twisted into a graceful somersault, glancing back to flash a broad smile.
    “Welcome back, Sparrow!” The words trailed after him like a ribbon of velvet. I was still staring when behind me Ophelia said sharply, “Sparrow.”
    I grabbed a ring and spun around. Ophelia’s eyes were narrow and faintly hostile, her voice brusque.
    “You’ve got a lot of catching up to do. You’ll have to do most of it on your own but Tybalt will help you and so will I. If you need assistance, ask—you’ll be disciplined if you don’t.”
    It was more of a command than an offer. She didn’t wait for an answer. I watched her as she left, her muscular legs kicking hard against the bulkhead when she rounded a corner. She was almost a matron but still an impressive woman, one that I admired in the same way you might admire a beautiful painting or a piece of sculpture.
    Only Loon and Crow were left. I guessed that Crow had been assigned to keep an eye on me and suddenly felt irritated. I didn’t need a keeper or a bodyguard.
    “Ophelia asked you to watch out for me, didn’t she?”
    He looked hurt.
    “I volunteered, Sparrow. And it’s not to watch out for you, it’s to show you around.”
    I recalled his clumsy concern for me on board the Lander and felt ashamed.
    “I don’t know where I live,” I admitted.
    His smile was quick.“Friends?”
    I nodded and felt the chip slide off my shoulder. He laughed, hit me on the arm, then turned and shot down the corridor, followed by Loon. I sailed after them, leapfrogging over their shoulders when I caught up and almost panicking when Crow nearly collided with the metal deck. He caught a ring to slow himself and we continued to chase each other down three levels and over two decks, ignoring the annoyed shouts from crewmen in the more dimly lit passageways where some of the glow tubes had burned out. As adept as Crow and Loon were in flying through the corridors, I surprised myself by being even better. They finally braked to a halt in front of a small, shadow-screened compartment halfway down a short corridor. “This is ours,” Crow panted. “You’re next door. Come on in.”
    I followed them through the shadow screen into a cubicle much like the ones I had seen before. There was a worn plastic pad sealed to the deck, a narrow ledge that jutted out from the bulkhead to hold an ancient palm terminal, a wider ledge that served as a table, and two string hammocks that were stowed on hooks next to a small locker. On the other side of the locker was an exercise rig of springs and cables. Judging by Crow’s arms and shoulders, he used it often.
    The opposite bulkhead was covered with a large foam model of an Earth-like canyon and above it a slate painting of a stream and a forest clearing. Both were exquisitely done. Loon rummaged around in the locker for a battered harmonica and settled in a corner, hooking his feet through a floor ring. He watched me, curious, while he quietly played scales. He was a little more reserved than Crow—wary of me and protective of his friend.
    Crow used the end of his waistcloth to wipe the sweat from his chest. “Take off your eye mask, Sparrow, I want to show you something.”
    I hesitated. I had been lied toonce, I didn’t want to be lied to again. Crow shrugged.
    “You want to wear your mask forever, go right ahead—but you’ll go crazy looking at the same things all