“Whatever you do,” the woman on the wall-length screen told Ada, “never ever--”
“Never ever tell them my real name, for surely it will mean certain death,” Ada finished, tossing the sweater she was folding into her case. It came completely unfolded and one teal arm draped out the side, and onto the bed. “This is not my first trip off the space station, mother.”
“It’s the first one without me, and I worry.” Ada’s mother frowned at the messy travel case. “Never your full name. And remember--”
Ada flipped the display switch and the screen went dark.