At first I think he hasn’t heard me. Then I
think he’s mad, he’s not going to reply, he’s probably already
halfway to the signal’s origin and anything he says will clue me in
to the fact that he’s not waiting around for anyone, he’s going to
find the lost colony and make a name for himself as the starmapper
who located S410, whatever the hell it is. Maybe they’ll name a
star after him—I know that’s gone through his mind, I know him so
well and that’s probably the first thing he thought of when he
intercepted the signal. “Dylan?” I ask, nervous. “Don’t tell me
you’re—”
“You called me baby,” he
whispers.
That makes me frown. “Did I?” I don’t
remember. Freudian slip,I think. So much for him not
knowing how you feel.“Dylan, don’t do anything without Dixon’s
go ahead, okay?”
“Sure,” he murmurs. “Neal,
I—”
Then the transmission dissolves into thick
static and I listen to it a minute more, two minutes, three, trying