She liked the vents: the smallness and the creaking, breathing of the ship around her. Every so often there was a clang and a shudder, like the metal hulk in which she was curled had woken from some deep sleep and shaken itself back into life. Carefully, reverently Chiral unzipped the leather jacket wrapped around her small frame and slipped it from her shoulders, folding it into a perfect square in her lap. She tucked the arms tightly inside, like folding the wings of a bird. She'd never seen a bird, not really. But she imagined folding their wings was something like that, making the least out of the most a thing could be. She made the least out of herself too, pressing her bare shoulder blades into the warm metal and tucking her knees to her chest. She pressed the soles of her boots to the ceiling of the vent above her and wiggled her toes.

She felt the comforting crinkle of paper inside, all that knowledge just under her feet. One finger dug around behind her heel and plucked out a crumpled piece of paper. She flattened out the creases with the palm of her hand and held it inches from her nose to read in the half-dark of the vents. Slits of light cast tiger stripe shadows across the paper, so she turned it in her fingers to read the tiny print.

"Balaenoptera musculus is a member of the baleen whales growing up to 30 meters in length and weighing in at up to 170 tons. It is the largest living animal, and heaviest known animal on Earth."

She had read the pages over and over, committing each phrase to memory. But still, the worlds that blossomed from the ink on the page set her heart fluttering. Chiral closed her eyes and imagined herself in the great belly of a blue whale. The humming and clanking of the pipes around her faded. She could almost hear the low crooning call of whales searching through the wide sea. What did they search for" How did they always know how to get home, no matter how deep the sea and wide the horizon' Did they feel lonely singing to the murky darkness with no one to sing back" She could almost feel the gentle push and pull of water filtering through baleen combs. She'd never seen a whale, or a sea. But she could feel its rise and fall in every breath. She could feel the crash of waves in every beat of her heart. Whitecaps hurled sea foam to the uncaring sky, and far beyond the atmosphere of a world she'd never seen she was there, riding a solar flare and dreaming of whale songs.

Whales probably didn't look to the stars and dream of girls in vents. But she dreamed enough for all of them. When they were drifting through deep space, far from any port and any other souls, she would peer from the port windows at the vast nothingness beyond and wonder. How many stars stared back at her" How long had their light travelled before it hit her pale face" Is that what they wanted all along, or were they sad to have their light's journey end on her skin" She chewed her lip, deep in thought.

A bang against the floor of the vent sent her wheeling back on hands and knees, teeth bared.

"Get outta there little widget, "fore the Captain figures out you've been messin" around and throws you out the airlock." The low growl was familiar and she tried to calm herself. One breath, two. She was safe. No need for fear, she was safe. Chiral poked her head through the open vent and wiggled her fingers at the hulking man below her before disappearing back into the vent. Her voice echoed and distorted as she collected up her belongings.

"I wasn't doing anything Jax, just sitting, just being. No fiddling or nothing." She checked for everything that was hers, making sure to leave no piece of herself in the vent.

Jacket back across her shoulders; check. Papers stuffed back in her shoes; check. Hair on her head; a ruffle of her curls just to be sure. Two arms, two legs, ten fingers and toes; check. She'd left two oily footprints behind but that way the vent would remember her for next time, like a goodbye kiss. She patted her hip, squeezing a soft pair of fuzzy dice. Good luck; check. That left only one thing. There was a frantic search of fingers over cloth until she found where she'd tucked the scrap of metal into the strip of fabric she used to cover her chest. She wouldn't look at the bullet, but just knowing it was there calmed her. It was the first thing that had truly been hers, carved from her own flesh and brought with her from the world behind the glass to the world beyond it.

Now that she had all of herself together, Chiral gripped the edge of the open grate and swung her legs down through the hole. She landed lightly and straightened with a languid stretch, smiling coyly up at Ajax. He tapped one boot against the floor with a hollow click.

"You got your own bed and e"rything, Widget. No need to crawl around the pipes like a stowaway rat." She hopped up onto the fold-down counter and perched there, swinging bare legs back and forth.

"But I am a stowaway rat, Jax. " He sighed and leaned his rifle against his leg. He was on-edge today, dark eyes darting constantly to the door. Square fingers scratched at the stubble of a beard long-since moving towards grey as his other hand fiddled with zippered pockets. He pulled out a brick of protein and snapped off a corner before holding it out to her carefully, slowly like he was feeding a skittish animal.

"Rats're tasty if you can catch "em. You though en't got no meat on your bones, even if we could catch ya." She shrugged and snatched the food, viper-quick, from his palm. Her startling speed always caught him off-guard. She seemed so languid and calm until she moved quick as a clap of thunder. "And at least rats only chew through wires. You wiggle into places no rat should be and start messin' around." Chiral stuffed the protein into her cheeks and then licked each finger.

"We'd go faster if you let me cross the fuel line directly into the thinga-majigger." Another sigh.

"If you don't even know the name why do you expect us to listen, Widget' Besides, you en't never worked on parts like that. If you go messin" around, we'll all be dead in the sky."

"But the Argo told me. She wants to sing. She wants to dance, not plod along like this hauling scavenged junk from hell-hole to hell-hole." Ajax jabbed one huge finger towards her face, but his dark eyes danced with amusement.

"The Argo's an old bird. She dun't have nothin' good to say, just clanks and rattles. So it's best if ya don't listen. And watch yer fackin" language. Where'd you pick that up, anyhow?" She swatted his hand away.

"From you."

"Well, don't let me catch ya sayin" crap like that again, ya ken?" She nodded solemnly and hooked a pinky finger around his, sealing the deal with a quick shake.

"I ken. Now what?s got you so jumpy' You look like you expect raiders to fall from the ceiling." He frowned and slung his rifle back over a massive shoulder.

"Worse"n that. Captain says we're goin" world-side."

"Ya got a name, kid?" In the darkness the memories came unbidden. The conversation flowed forwards like sand through her fingers. The tighter she clutched it, the faster it went. But still she could do nothing to change it.

"Number 385."

"I didn't ask fer a number. We've all got numbers. Number of steps, number of kills, number of scars, number of ranks you've climbed on the godforsaken chain of command. None of "em matter. A number en't who you are kid, and it en't whatcha are neither. It's just a piece. So what?s yer name?" She wanted to rewind the voice, to just hear the words again and again. The soft, clipped song of her voice. The growl that played underneath like the crackle of a motor. The way she shouldered her gun and rustled shocking blue hair as she waited for an answer, calm amidst the chaos. Chiral reached into her jacket and plucked forth the hunk of crushed metal. She couldn't cry now. She had to be sneaky-silent.

She had thought. She'd had no names, just words stuffed into her shoes to keep her company. She had thought of the words. She looked to her hands, wringing them together. They were not quite the same and not quite different. And so was she. "Chiral." Adjective. A property of some organic molecules wherein they are not symmetrical to their mirror image.

A curt nod had sent blue hair trailing into icy eyes. Pupils expanded and contracted mechanically as her mods had sought out movement in the dark. The gentle glow of infrared had lit up her cheeks all ghostly and perfect. In the silence between barrages, the cricket-soft click of mods panning through focal planes was all she could hear. It was the finest craftsmanship Chiral had seen before or since. Her eyes had been a work of art. "This the first time ya seen a dead body, Chiral?" When she had torn her gaze away, the glassy, imperfect human eyes had stared up at her, reflecting the sickly light of blaster fire from across the alley. The man had been gasping before, choking and gurgling on blood as his mods sparked out their final cry. He was quiet now. That was worse than the gasping. It had taken all her energy just to nod.

"Yes." No. Not anymore. Now there were armies of dead.

"One. There's a number fer ya since ya like "em so much." 187. Since then she'd seen 187 dead bodies. She hated the numbers. She clutched tighter to the bullet in her hand. It was cold against the heat of her palm. It was brave and fierce and hungry. If it could be brave, then so could she. Brave as a bullet and quiet as the dead.

There was the beep and screech of the cargo hold being opened. Distant boot clicks against the metal grate of the floor. Muffled voices.

"The first is always the worst." That was a lie. The 187th had been just as bad. "Now we gotta go, Chiral, else there'll be two more bodies to join that one." She'd jabbed one gloved hand at the too-still man. He had just stared, eyes unseeing and all-seeing at once. A blaster shot had near shaken the teeth from her skull before she could bring herself to move.

All she could remember was the clack clack clack of blaster fire. The ravenous hiss of EMPs and unholy flash of white that signaled their detonation. The scream of those caught in the blast as their mods short-circuited, boiling the blood in their veins. The mocking carnival colors of neon signs reflected in oily pools of water. Miles and miles of dark alleyways. Pavement pounding underfoot and the heaving of breath. And always ahead of her, that shocking head of blue.

Something grabbed hold of the crate. Chiral was slammed into the side as it was dragged across the floor. Her heart leapt in her chest. It was an unruly thing. It never listened to reason, and it was never sneaky-silent. It beat so loudly in her ears the border patrol could surely hear it through the crate. With shaking fingers, she popped the bullet into her mouth, holding it on her tongue. The acrid tang of metal was a reminder. Quiet now, silly thing. Quiet or we'll all be caught.

"We're picking up one extra heartbeat here. You sure these crew logs're up to date?" The voice was barely comprehensible through the crate. It seemed so much less real than the one in her head.

"Yessir. Must be a rat or somethin". We get too many o"the damned things, chewin" through our stores and buildin" nests in the wirin". Try to catch many as we can, but they're sly buggers." A low laugh, maybe a bit too forced. Chiral worked the bullet around her mouth, feeling the clink of it against her teeth. Quiet as the dead now. Still as a memory.

But the memory was slipping away from her. The head of blue was running too fast through the alleys. She was losing her. Again. By the time the last of the conversation came, it was almost drowned out by the roar of her heartbeat.

"I'm Ennis by the way, Ennis Tuo. And I'm going to protect you." That had been a lie. It had all been a lie. Her name wasn't Ennis. She was nothing but a number: NS-20. Just another Neurologic Singularity. Just another lab rat. Just another soldier. And just another number.

Chiral spat out the bullet as she heard the beep and screech of the cargo hold being closed. Suddenly it tasted too bitter. It was more cowardly than she'd thought. Bravery wasn't a bullet. Bravery was a girl. Bravery was Chiral. Locks clicked as they were opened and light flooded into the crate.

"You can come out now widget. Yer safe.? That was a lie too. All of it was lies.

The world was bright. Neon signs screamed from every surface, shining their ghost light off of oily puddles and greasy walls in a dizzying, inconstant circus. There were merchants for everything here: munitions smelted from Nibiru alloys declared the most reliable in the Republic, brewers of moonshine proclaimed strong enough to strip the treads off a tank, back-alley modders showing off their augmentations with wild tricks in front gasping crowds, flesh-peddlers lifting up tunics to show their naked bodies beneath and winking from behind translucent veils. Above the chaos, the three moons of Nibiru poked their icy heads above the towering shadows of buildings and kissed the crowd with chalky moonlight, sending the world into stark contrast. After the dim, metallic world of the Argo, the colors were a whirlwind symphony.

The world was busy. Tall Nibiru natives loped above the crowd with their long stick legs and long stick necks. In the low-grav atmo, they danced with a seemingly weightless grace as they hawked local crafts and imported luxuries. Generations on the isolated planet had pulled them taffy-taut, stretching them up towards the greedy kiss of the moons above. Long and thin, they weren't much good for the strip-mining that made their colony profitable, so miners pooled forth off of jam-packed freighters sent from distant high-grav planets. Short, squat, and heavily muscled, they seemed almost insectoid with their glistening breathing apparatuses that clicked and sputtered as they sucked in oxygen from the thin air around them. Night had settled in, releasing the locals from the vicious grip of daylight. But with little atmosphere to draw in the heat, night was almost as brutal as the scorching day. Layers of carefully-wrapped head scarves, puffy coats, and long tunics made the offworld merchants seem bulky and outlandish compared to the Nibiru, whose dark skin helped hold in the warmth of day and block out most of the harmful UV that pelted the planet. With merchants and customers of every size, shape, and color to be seen, Chiral's head whipped around in a frenzy as she tried to take it all in.

The world was screaming. After the comfort and safety of the vents, the open streets and impossible height of the sky above her sent Chiral's head into a dizzying whirl. It didn't help that each breath felt like she was sucking in nothing of use. The noise and movement around her was deafening, but within her she was an empty husk. People pushed past, barely noticing as they shoved her aside. Lights blinded her without an apology. This was a rude world, a loud world. It roared with emotions: white-hot anger, green fear, lush purple lust, grey exhaustion. She could hardly see through the fog around her as she turned and turned like a useless gear.

There was a flash of blue through the flitting crowd and for a moment her heart leapt into her mouth. She shoved her way between lanky Nibiru, chasing the blue through the hurricane of light and color and sound.

"Stay close to me Chiral. We'll lose them in this crowd, but don't you lose me." The voice cut through the roar like ice to the back of her neck. She gasped.

"I'm trying Ennis." Long ago, Ennis had grabbed her hand, soft fingers against smooth metal ones. She had pulled her closer. She had guided her through the chaos.

But Chiral was alone now. The flash of blue was slipping away. She fought harder, elbowing some miner in the chest to slip into the hole he left as he turned away. She was swimming through people. She was drowning in this air with no oxygen. She was blinded by all of the colors, and all of them wrong, none of them blue.

"Where the fack ya think yer goin??" The slap to the back of her head left her ears ringing, but Chiral stopped dead. Gage jerked her around with one fist around her arm and dragged her back across the square. He glared down at her with his one good eye, pale and bloodshot, as the metallic lens of his other shone dull and dead in the moonlight.

"Captain told me she'd rip my balls off and string "em round my neck if I lose ya. So don't ya fackin" run away, ya little shit. Don't know what yer fackin" lookin" fer anyways. Pressure valve's fine. Got another month or so in it. I could be off blazed outta my mind but no, I'm stuck babysittin" a half-crazed, all-dazed div like you." Chiral had stopped listening. She just let him steer her through the crowd listlessly as she glanced around, hoping against hope to see a spark of blue among the frenzy.

"I lost her,? she whispered, but her voice was lost to the roar of the crowd.