Avasarala countered soft. She lowered her voice, let her face take on a concerned, grandmotherly expression. If he was going to play the injured man, she could play the mother.

“Something lived,” she said. “Something survived that impact, and everybody knows that it did. I have reason to think that it didn’t stay there. If some part of your daughter made it through that change, she might have reached out to you. Tried to contact you. Or her mother.”

“There is nothing I want more than to have my little girl back,” Mao said. “But she’s gone.”

Avasarala nodded.

“All right,” she said.

“Is there anything else?”

Again, the false anger. She ran her tongue against the back of her teeth, thinking. There was something here, something beneath the surface. She didn’t know what she was looking at with Mao.

“You know about Ganymede?” she said.

“Fighting broke out,” he said.

“Maybe more than that,” she said. “The thing that killed your daughter is still out there. It was on Ganymede. I’m going to find out how and why.”

He rocked back. Was the shock real?

“I’ll help if I can,” he said, his voice small.

“Start with this. Is there anything you didn’t say during the hearings? A business partner you chose not to mention. A backup program or auxiliary staff you outfitted. If it wasn’t legal, I don’t care. I can get you amnesty for just about anything, but I need to hear it now. Right now.”

“Amnesty?” he said as if she’d been joking.

“If you tell me now, yes.”

“If I had it, I would give it to you,” he said. “I’ve said everything I know.”

“All right, then. I’m sorry to have taken your time. And… I’m sorry to open old wounds. I lost a son. Charanpal was fifteen. Skiing accident.”

“I’m sorry,” Mao said.