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H azel spoke to some of the officers while the daughters went back onto the disabled ship to collect whatever things they needed.

As that happened, Nostromo approached me. “Your name is Ellis?”

“That’s right,” I said. “Nice to meet you.” I put my hand on Frank’s arm. “This is Frank Kitson, my friend and?—”

“You are more than friends,” Nostromo said with a wry smile. “My people have a way with these things. We can sense emotions. It’s our gift. You care for each other very much. It is wonderful to see.”

“We do,” I confirmed. “So you and your daughters are empaths?”

His eyes narrowed. “I suppose that would be an accurate word, but we are more than that. Some of us, anyway. Our women, my daughters among them, have deep sight. The ability to see behind and before.”

Frank made a small noise. “So your daughters are psychics? Able to tell the past and predict the future?”

Nostromo nodded. “Yes. If the person is open. Not everyone is. Some are very closed. Hard and impenetrable, like rocks. I sense you are a rock.”

Frank snorted softly, but Hazel joined us, and he didn’t say anything further.

Hazel addressed our new guest. “If there’s anything you need while you’re on board, Nostromo, please let me know.”

“You have done enough for us already, Vice-Admiral.” He smiled at me. “I especially appreciate the introduction to your mother.”

My mouth came open in surprise. Neither Hazel nor I had said anything to him about our familial relationship. Was he really psychic? Or just super observant? Hazel did bear some resemblance to me.

The daughters reemerged from their ship carrying battered leather satchels and larger cloth bags that looked as though they’d been sewn together from scraps. Mhari also held a large rectangular box that was covered in silky fabric patterned with insects.

She brought it to her father. “For our rescuers?”

“Yes, a wonderful idea, Mhari.” Nostromo opened the box. Inside were rows and rows of small, irregular crystal balls nestled in more silk. The veins and impurities of natural rock were visible.

He lifted one from the fabric and held it out to Hazel. “These are pila, one of the crafts my people were known for. They are remarkable things. They will change your life. Please. It is the least we can do. You must all take one as our gift to you.”

Hazel took the sphere. “Thank you. How will it change my life?”

“The pila absorb negative energy, bad feelings, ill intentions, and anything else that might cause your spirit harm. And as they do, they dissolve and take all those things with them into the ether.” He took another from the box and handed it to me. “For you, the keeper of books.”

“Thank you.” I didn’t feel like I had a whole lot of negativity in my life, but the spheres were pretty, and it would probably be insulting not to take one.

The sphere was lighter than I expected it to be, and the surface had a sort of rough, almost grainy feel to it.

I turned it in my hand, watching the light in the docking bay play over it.

It gleamed in some places and in others gave off an almost metallic shimmer.

The light danced through the interior as well, but in a chaotic, patternless kind of way that seemed to highlight the small imperfections and darker inclusions.

It was a curious thing. Not even close to being as pretty as the Omega Min Star but interesting.

Might look nice on the coffee table. The common area seemed a good spot for something that was supposed to absorb bad vibes.

Nostromo offered Frank one as well.

He shook his head. “No, thank you. My spirit is fine.”

Nostromo smiled. “As I suspected, my stony friend.”

Nostromo made sure everyone else had a sphere, then he and his daughters went off to their new quarters with the officers carrying their things. Claire, Kent, and the cameraman left as well. Maybe to get more footage or do some interviews.

Hazel and Captain Stuedecker remained behind with us.

“Where are you putting them?” I asked.

“Deck 34,” she answered. “In two adjoining standard rooms.”

They’d probably be in replicas of my own quarters, except the office would be outfitted as another bedroom.

Frank glanced at the exit as if to check that Nostromo and his daughters were really gone. “Would you be all right if I took a look at their craft?”

“Of course,” Hazel said. “I do plan on sending in a team to assess it in the morning, but if you want to have a look on your own, I wouldn’t mind hearing what you think.”

He nodded. “I need a few diagnostic tools, but I could come back after your mother and I have had our dinner.”

Hazel glanced at me, then at the time on her wristband. “Sorry about interrupting that.”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “Luna’s is holding our table.”

Hazel’s mouth bent in a barely restrained smile. “You two should get back there then. I appreciate you coming. Judging by Nostromo’s reaction, it was good you were here.”

She pulled the sphere from her jumpsuit pocket and held it up to the light, studying it, a wry smile tugging at her mouth. “If this thing works, I might have them spread throughout the ship.”

She tucked it away again, her attention on Frank. “You didn’t take one.”

“My apologies if that was the wrong thing to do.”

“You’re allowed to make your own choices. Any particular reason why you didn’t want one?”

He shrugged as he seemed to be choosing his words. “I don’t go in for that sort of … stuff.”

“If John Wayne wouldn’t do it, neither does Frank,” I said, teasing him.

Hazel chuckled. “Have a good dinner.” She turned to her admin. “Ensign Gibson, see that a hatch access code is sent to Mr. Kitson.”

Ensign Gibson nodded as he opened the holoscreen on his wristband and began tapping. “Yes, ma’am.”

She started for the exit, then glanced at Frank one more time. “I look forward to your report.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Frank responded.

I gave her a little nod. “Thanks, Hazel.”

“Bye, Mom. Frank.” And with that, she was gone, Captain Stuedecker and Ensign Gibson following behind.

That left us alone in the docking bay. “You’re really going to have a look around on that thing?”

Frank nodded. “Why? You think I shouldn’t?”

“I think it might be dangerous. They were stranded in space because of whatever happened to it.”

“True, but it’s tethered to the Athos now, meaning our power and life support systems are sustaining it. I think it’ll be fine.” He narrowed his eyes. “Would you feel better if you accompanied me?”

I tried not to smile and failed to as I gave in, shooting him a look that said I knew what he was up to. “Maybe.”

He cleared his throat and offered me his arm. “Let’s go have dinner.”

We didn’t dig into the conversation again until after we were seated and had listened to Robinson, our favorite server, tell us the specials. They had a Sicilian flat iron steak, served with a roasted red pepper sauce, and a pea and prosciutto risotto that sounded to die for.

In standard fashion, Frank went for the steak. I chose the risotto. Robinson got us our sparkling waters and a basket of fresh, hot bread with butter.

I took a piece of bread and slathered it with butter while Frank did the same. Ravenous, I had a bite. Was there a better combo than warm bread and butter? I thought not. “Okay, tell me what you think you’re going to find.”

“I don’t know,” Frank said. “That’s the point. We know nothing about these people.”

“We know where they’re from, which I plan to research tomorrow.”

“Good. I’m glad for that.”

“We also know he’s got to be, what, eighty? Maybe older? And the daughters are probably fortysomething to nearly sixty?”

“Could be.” Frank looked unconvinced about something, and I didn’t think it was the women’s ages.

“What’s bothering you about this so much?”

He sighed. “That’s just the thing—I don’t know. It’s just … a gut feeling. That’s the best I can do.”

“That’s all right. You’re allowed to have gut feelings.”

“Thanks.” He ate the last morsel of bread, then took a sip of water. “It’s probably nothing. I’m probably letting this become more of a thing than it needs to be. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. We’ll have a look around the ship, then go watch the sunset. We’ll both feel better by the end of the night.”

He reached across the table and took my hand. “Thank you for letting me be a little paranoid.”

“Or, you know, a lot paranoid, but who’s paying attention?”

He laughed. “I’m overreacting. I’m sure you’re right.”

“Seriously,” I said. “It’s okay. I mean that. And I trust your instincts. Never hurts to see if there’s anything to it, right?”

He nodded, the amusement fading from his face. “Right.”