Even the dance of blurred stars through my bunk view screen couldn't chill me out because I was steamin' mad. I don't trust easy, but I had trusted Fred. I’d trusted him hard. Eleven days had passed since I'd received Gallagher's last letter and I still wanted to punch Fred so friggin' much. Instead, all I could do was huddle there, curled up in my bunk, while Fern paced. Until now, I didn't think much could faze her. Given all she'd seen, I gave her mad props for keepin' her cool.

I'd really thought Fred was my bud. That he was on my side. Betts and Fred inseparable? Since when? Why would he fake that? Maybe he was ashamed of me for screwin' up the raid. Maybe that changed how he felt. He used to always be so flirty, too, and even though I never woulda gone there, he kept on bein' solid. So yeah, I guess it was the raid.

Fern was still pacing.

"Fern! I'm trying real hard to concentrate on my brooding, here. Can you knock it off?" I shouted through the slit in the curtain.

The hollow creaking of the cabin bulkhead stopped.

"I'm just going over the details of the plan," she said. I noticed a quaver in her voice.

I sighed and shoved open the curtains. The dull green cabin light made me squint after the darkness of my bunk. Fern was facing away from me.

"I wish we could've gone with the blasters," I grumbled. "Like one of the space cowboy vids, guns a'blazin', makin' our way to the lab like real heroes."

Fern raised an eyebrow. "I told you, even my Academy rank is not enough to override the safeties that prevent the synthers from making weapons. And besides, we'd have the ACOs chasing us all the way there and then how would I have time to run the necessary simulations?"

I laughed, amused at her taking me so seriously. I got up off my bed. "Fine. So what's up with Betts' goons being on the same ship as your mom's enemy's goons? That's just hella fin," I said.

Fern shrugged. "Coincidence? It was probably the next available ship."

"I don't believe in coincidences."

Fern looked at me. "Unless Betts's goons have friends in the Academies, I don't see how they will get through Tau Concordia customs. Getting you through is the more pressing concern. Your denial as a research assistant is going to make that difficult. I hope this works."

I jumped up and grabbed the lapels of her lab coat. "Even if it doesn't, they're not sending me back. If I have to leave, I'll steal a friggin' ship going somewhere else. Isn't there any place else I can get to from here?"

Fern shook her head. "Beta Fornax is the closest system in the Priaspora to this station. It's a research station specifically designed to explore the boundary of known space in this region. They only ever get scientists and some rotating support staff coming out here.”

I felt my face get hot as Fern pulled away from me. I let go of her coat.

Fern sighed and started pacing again. "They want to question you and find out more about you. If the ACO can't confirm your background as a certified archivist, they'll put you back on the next ship to Beta Fornax II. Because I purchased a round-trip ticket for you, that's the only place they'll let you go unless you pay for a ticket to somewhere else. We've been over this."

"I can't go back there," I said.

"I know," Fern said. "So you're stuck with me. I've had a lot of time to go over Mother's data. There definitely seems to be a pattern to it. I wouldn't care so much except that it sounds like the Academy is trying to get in the way of Mother's work. And I'm sick of the Academy and their ridiculous politics. If they don't like her work, then I want to know why."

"But you said the―the ACO? What is that?―won't let me stay."

"The Administrative Compliance Officer. They enforce the rules―keep out the, ah, undesirables," she said, looking at me pointedly. "They're heavily armed...with bureaucracy."

Her lip curled into a snarl at the last word.

A series of chimes sounded. "Good morning," the synth voice said. "Please prepare yourself for our re-entry into normal space. Hibiscus Nine will be arriving at Concordia Station in three minutes."

"Three minutes," Fern said. "Ok, let's go over the plan once more."

I absently touched my shoulder as we went over the deets. Memorization was never my thing, and I was like so totally out of my element. For shiz, I was glad I could record notes on my wrist comm, but I'd have few opportunities to use them, so I had to memorize as best I could anyway.

"So I've been so focused on my part of the plan I never asked but...what's the deal with this pattern? So ok, you want to find out where this transmission's coming from. I get that. And then we go who the hell know's where to find it. Whatever it is. Do you think it's friggin' intelligent aliens or something?"

Fern let out a sharp cackle. "We have colonized hundreds of stars and still not found anything more intelligent than some native plants and bacteria. It seems unlikely. Though, I suppose it's not impossible. The most probable scenario is that some lost tech got stuck transmitting from somewhere within the Priaspora. The far more interesting thing about such tech is how it works than how it got there, since its nothing like any tech we . It would be an invaluable find, and as much as I hate to admit it, it would justify all the work Mother has put into her research for the last ten years."

I nodded, kind of not caring that much about fancy new tech. I mean, I liked my Astro bike, and useful stuff, but I assumed Fern meant tech that was for science, which was hella boring. My mind drifted back to our crazy plan to sneak me on to (and off of) the station.

"So you really think we can outwit the ACO?"

Fern shrugged. "Yes. Very little budget goes into ACO personnel; it's simply not a high enough priority."

She snickered.

"What?"

"It is quite rare that people sneak onto research stations. So nobody is likely to suspect that's what we're doing. I have told you that every day for the last ten days."

I winced. "I know, I know. It's just―this is crazier than any raid I've been on."

Fern gave a look that I couldn't escape. My eyes were locked onto hers.

In a low, husky voice, she intoned, "We're going to get through this."

Somehow, I trusted her. I believed her. When was the last time I could say that about anyone?

I took a deep breath. "Ok."

I didn't belong on big floating tin cans. I missed my bike. I even felt comfort in the thought of scurrying between junk piles. I kept seeing myself dragged off by some bureaucrat and locked in a cell until they could Relocate me. Even with Fern's reassurance, I couldn't see how this would end with me busting a moby or swilling an ice cold bronson.

But what else could I do? Taking my chances here still seemed better than going back to BFII.

The chimes and synth voice again. "Please be seated for the transition back to normal space."

We scrambled to the couch, and those snakey seatbelts tied us up to it. I don't know how people got used to this. Once we left hyperspace, our cabin switched to window mode, making all the walls into view screens as we made our approach. The station looked like a long skinny beer can with five fat, silvery bicycle tires attached to it with spokes.

"Why's it shaped like that?" I asked.

Fern gave me a sheepish look. "It's funny you ask, because that's one of the few Academy aesthetic choices that's a throwback from ancient times. Before there was anti-grav and sim-grav tech, they had to build them this way so the whole thing could spin and create artificial gravity. But now there's no practical purpose for it."

I blinked. "So you're sayin' there's no good reason? Just to...look like ancient space stations?"

Fern nodded.

"Whoa, they totally re-cooled it. Maybe you scientist types have some style, after all."

The station grew bigger in the view screen, and I saw a couple of other ships maneuvering toward docking bays. It was only then that it struck me how frigging huge the thing was.

I must have been gaping because Fern started throwing off stats about it. "It's 980 meters high, and the rings are 600 meters in diameter. It has habs for 1000 staff."

I swallowed. Glinting specks began appearing all over the tires; windows, I realized. The central tire had three rows of windows. The upper and lower tires each only had one row of windows, but they were much thicker. Pock marks and smears of grey and black soot became visible all over the thing.

"It looks kinda dingy," I observed.

"It has a force field to protect it from damage, but it's too costly to keep it running constantly, so when it's off micrometeoroids impact it, and interstellar dust and debris accumulate."

What had appeared to be spokes holding the tires on to the beer can now appeared to be thinner cylinders with their own windows. I guessed that they were some kind of corridors or bridges.

Our approach took us straight toward a blocky bulge sticking out of the center tire. The bulge, which was studded with bright flashing green lights, split open, revealing a blindingly lit docking bay, we were heading into. I had vague memories of interstellar trips when I was young, but I'd never been to a space station, only planets. And even then, only junkworlds.

I clutched Tilly through my cargoes, and jumped when she buzzed as the shuttle touched down.