The multi-tool. It wasn’t much, but it had a decent enough utility knife and corkscrew, and both of those could sink handily into an eye or throat. Clearly those infected with Foxfire were dulled to pain, but a good enough slash would likely be incapacitating. She didn’t need to kill anyone, just get them out of the way long enough for Edison to fight back or run.

Or run. To where? She had Edison’s captain’s code, but that could only do so much. There were no evac pods, no truly safe places on the ship. Her little hideaway chamber was the most secure place, she thought, but if Edison got inside, it would make him immensely sick and expose her one safe zone to corruption.

Think. Think. Think.

Starved of options, Rosalyn brought up her AR display. There he was, the indicator blinking softly at the very top of her vision. That was a good sign, at least; it meant his display was still functioning, and if his chip hadn’t been completely corrupted by the Foxfire, then maybe he was still fighting it off. Piero and Rayan seemed to fall to it in a flash, so there was no telling how long she had to act. Her heart twisted as she stared at the display—Edison had changed his public profile.

Dogs, jazz, single malt

She wanted to cry. No sleep, hardly any food, and now her one solid ally, the one person who seemed at least partially reliable, had been attacked. It was bad enough before, but now the enemies were turning on one another, and somehow that was so, so much worse.

“Hey.”

Oh God, Oh God . . .

But it was only Misato. She put one palm on the shield, lightly, pressing her other forefinger to her lips. Luckily her eyes were blue and not the stark, terrible white of Foxfire’s control.

“He took Edison,” Rosalyn whispered hoarsely. “Piero is . . . he’s like a demon. His face is all shredded, skin hanging off of him, his mouth . . . Jesus, it’s a nightmare, and all I have is this stupid fucking multi-tool with like a two-inch blade and . . . that’s it. That’s all I have. He took Edison.”

Misato nodded, her silver hair and eyes glowing brightly in the darkness. “I need you to stay calm, Rosalyn, you’re shaking.”

“I know. I know. I just . . . What the hell are we going to do? Can you, I don’t know, sense him? Is he all right?”

“Yes, but the others . . . I can’t see them. As hard as I try, they’re just not there.” Misato slowly reached into her cargo pocket, pulling out what looked like a homemade machete, a weapon cobbled together from a plastic chair leg and a jagged shard of the ship’s interior.

“Jesus Christ! Where did you get that thing?” Rosalyn rushed to the glass, her helmet bumping gently against it.