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boxes. A tangled mobile of stars already hung from the ceiling, perfectly still in the windless room. She took a shaky step inside, touching the mobile to make it spin.
    A nursery—or at least the start of one.
    The mobile spun faster, or maybe the spinning was in her head. She suddenly felt like she was back home in London, trapped in front of flashing camera lights, a too-small dress riding up her hips. She felt sick and turned, but jumped to find Serassi blocking the door.
    â€œI don’t understand,” Nok said, breathing hard. “You said we weren’t capable of raising our own young. You said you were going to take away the baby.”
    Serassi eyed her calmly. “That was my original assessment, yes. We reproduce by collecting Kindred DNA and matching it for optimum genetics. The offspring are not born, but raised in communal grow houses from infancy through first-decade aging. As chief genetics officer, I have been working to engineer a similar system with humans. Soon, natural reproduction will be as obsolete for your kind as it is for ours. Your child might very well be the last born of natural means.”
    She almost looked pleased with herself, but then she blinked, as though she had forgotten something important, and cocked her head. “Though after observing you in your previous enclosure, I realized I might be missing a valuable opportunity to study authentic prenatal care in its natural habitat. Our knowledge of your child-rearing culture has heretofore been collected by studying artifacts: instructional books, videos, and recordings. I’ve learned that your kind has traditions that are never writtendown. It is my intention to observe these informal practices here.”
    Nok stumbled through her words. “So . . . we can keep the baby?”
    Serassi’s dark eyes swiveled to Nok’s belly. “As long as you prove yourselves useful to our research purposes.”
    â€œAnd if we don’t?” Rolf asked tensely. “You cut the baby out of her belly and kill us?”
    â€œThe moral code prevents us from killing you,” Serassi answered, though from the way her voice lingered, whatever the alternative would be didn’t seem much better.
    A pain shot through Nok’s belly. Was it true? Would they really take Sparrow away before she was even born and raise her in some alien incubator somewhere, watched and documented just like Nok had been for all those photographers back home? “You’re monsters!” She lunged toward Serassi, but Rolf held her back. His muscles had grown from all the sledding and gardening in the cage, and he stopped her from clawing at Serassi.
    â€œDon’t,” he whispered. “She’s stronger than us. Think of Sparrow.”
    Nok let out a frustrated cry and spun away, breath coming fast. She pressed a hand to the base of her neck. The Kindred had fixed her asthma when they’d abducted her, but she still felt the ghost of tightness in her lungs.
    She stormed into the nursery. Rolf followed her, glancing back at the open door.
    â€œAt least we’re safe for the time being,” Rolf said.
    â€œUntil when?” she asked. “Until we can’t teach them anything they haven’t already learned from books? Rolf, I don’t know anything about raising a baby. It won’t take them long to figurethat out. A month, maybe two, and they’ll take her away as soon as she’s developed enough.”
    She glanced over at the crib and felt sick all over again.
    â€œI won’t let it come to that.” Rolf rested his hands on her shoulders.
    They went back into the hallway, but Serassi had vanished. They found her downstairs, inspecting a microwave oven that kept dinging despite the fact that nothing was cooking. If she was upset that Nok had nearly tried to claw her face off, she didn’t show it.
    â€œDo this for Sparrow,” Rolf whispered.
    It gave Nok something to hold on to,