“I am C-CIL.”

“Yeah, I got that the first time,” I say with equal parts annoyance and amusement. Funny. There’s something odd about the guy, something I can’t quite put my finger on. Not a bad thing. He’s just…different. I lead C-CIL and the others down the hall toward the front of the ship. It’s probably best to give them the lay of the land, show them the canteen, the rec room, maybe even the bridge. It’s not that I trust them, but this way they’ll have no excuse to end up anywhere they’re not supposed to be.

Don’t let your guard down, I remind myself. Even if they don’t seem like a threat, they’re still strangers. You don’t know what they’re after or what they’re capable of.

“You are Jahdra.”

“Yep,” I say, over my shoulder. “I’m the captain of the Chrysanthemum.”

“The captain?” says the creep from Olympia Station. I’ve figured out by now that he’s the one in charge of the ship sitting in my docking bay right now. The one who called me for help. I turn to face him, defiant, and see the question knotted in his brow before he even asks.

“Aren’t you too—”

Go ahead. Just say it.

But C-CIL interrupts before he can finish. “You are Jahdra,” he says.“You are the captain of the Chrysanthemum.”

Damn right, C-CIL, I smile to myself, turning into the canteen.

The lights are on, as usual, and I toss the bag of coffee I’m still clutching onto the counter. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to with it—it’s obviously not DS standard—but as mad as I was earlier, I’m not totally prepared to let it go to waste. The crewmen look around the canteen. Not that here’s much to look at. Wall to wall stainless steel. A dietary synthesizer on one side and a comm channel on the other. There’s cold storage and a heating element built into one of the countertops, but I have no clue how to work them. The captain—the other captain—picks up a book I’ve left lying on the table, studying the cover closely before flipping through the pages.

“What about you two?” I ask. “You got names?”

“That’s Shae,” he says, nodding toward the other crewman. I offer Shae a small smile, but she just stands there. Silent. “And you can call me Byerley.” He says it almost expectantly. Like he’s just told a joke and he’s waiting for me to get it.

“Or just Byer, if that’s easier,” he says. I don’t react. Instead, I shrug him off and move on.

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“Synthesizer’s over there,” I point out, “and I don’t know how any of this other stuff works, so use at your own caution,” I say. “Better yet, just stick to the synthesizer.”

“The synthesizer is over there,” says C-CIL. “Stick to the synthesizer.”

“Uh…yeah,” I say, unsure how else to respond. It’s weird, I can’t tell if he’s messing with me.

“You’ll have to forgive C-CIL,” Byer breaks in with a smirk. “He’s a little—” He hesitates. “—new.”

It’s the way he says it.

“New.”

Something clicks, and suddenly, it makes sense. I feel stupid for not realizing it sooner.

“C-CIL,” I say. “It’s not a name, it’s an acronym,”

Byer nods. “Carbon-Cybernetic Intelligent Life.”

“Huh,” I say, my eyes fixed on C-CIL. I look him over for some kind of sign that I missed before, some hint that he was made and not born. But physically, there’s nothing that gives him away. He looks every bit as human as the other two.

“Wow,” I mutter, the word slipping out unconsciously. I’ve never seen anything like him before. I mean, he looks just like a normal person, and I’ve seen plenty of those before. But I’ve never seen anything that is like him. I watch him, fascinated. He watches me back. Like he’s every bit as curious about me as I am about him.

“Wow,” he echoes.

I decide to cut the tour short and show everyone to their quarters. I’m ready to get back to the bridge. And I plan to go alone.

“Two here and one around the corner,” I say, pointing to a set of doors on the left. “If you need anything, ask Chrys. You should have access to her basic functionality routines.” I’m about to head back down the hall, but Byer stops me before I can leave. The other two are already in their rooms, doors closed behind them. I sigh. What now?

“There’s something I’d like to ask you, Captain,” he says, overemphasizing the last word.

I raise my eyebrows, inviting him to ask his stupid question.

“Where’s the rest of the crew?”

Shit.

I knew someone would ask eventually, but it still takes me by surprise.

“Quarantine,” I lie.

“Quarantine?”

“Don’t worry, you won’t have any contact with them. I’ve already sealed off Decks 2 and 3. They stay down there. You stay up here.”

Even without speaking, his skepticism is palpable.

“They picked up something on Delo IV,” I say crossing my arms, trying to hide my discomfort. But they should be fine.”

He nods. But I can tell he’s not convinced.

Then it hits me. De-con. We walked right by on the way from the docking bay to the lift, but I didn’t actually have them go in. I wonder if anyone noticed. Better come up with something quick.

“We got a little sloppy with decontamination procedures on that trip, so we set up something new to make things easier,” I say. “We routed an additional system through the docking bay, so you were all scrubbed when it was pressurized.”

He’s quiet for a moment. His gaze intense. Unsettling.

“You set that up yourself?” he asks.

God, just shut up already.

“I had a little help,” I say.

“Still, you must be one hell of an engineer,” he says. “Maybe you could take a look at our engine,” he smiles, almost.

Why won’t this guy just quit? He must know I’m lying. He knows, and he’s trying to trap me, break me. But I won’t let him.

“To be honest, I can’t take much credit. Chrys did most of the work,” I say. Can’t argue with a ship, asshole.

“Sure,” he says. And with that, he turns and walks toward the last open room. But before he disappears around the corner, I call after him.

“Hey!” he stops, clearly surprised, and I give him the biggest, cheesiest grin I can. “Nice to have you aboard.”

I’m lying.

But I’m not the only one.