“Wait!” she cried, lurching unsteadily to her feet. Oof. She was intensely dizzy, stumbling to the door and catching herself on the frame. “The comms. The signal. Can you—”

His face fell, and Edison shook his head slowly, glancing away. “They’re fried. Piero did a number on the long-range hub.”

“No,” she whispered, leaning her helmet against the wall. All that chaos, and for what? “Then we need to get moving. He didn’t find a way to sabotage the thrusters, did he?”

“Nope.”

Rosalyn puffed out a breath. That was something, at least. “I’ll sync with your display. You can have my credentials, all right? Just get us moving out of here. The last thing I want is more casualties.”

“You sure? We hold out long enough, maybe we could explain it all, right? Once they dock with us, once they—”

“No.” She hadn’t intended to sound so vicious, but she was exhausted and her stomach was already turning again from the stench in her visor. “Listen, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but we can’t risk it. We’re a baited trap. Look at what happened to Piero and Rayan. It could happen to you, too.”

Edison didn’t respond, but she saw his brows knit together over his glasses with hurt as she turned away. It was simple, sending the linkup request to his display. Once he accepted it, Rosalyn could freely send information and vice versa. She composed the message and attached her credentials, then shuffled toward the decontam chamber and the shower. When she looked over her shoulder to make sure she was alone, Edison was gone.

It was a relief to peel herself out of the suit. She was never going to get the smell out of that helmet, she thought with a sigh. Her chest felt like someone had cracked it with a power hammer. Every muscle in her body protested as she carefully stripped and hauled herself into the decontam chamber. A shower would feel nicer, but that would have to wait. Keeping herself free of Foxfire was priority one, even if she was desperate to soak in scalding hot water for a few hours or days.