Edison opened his mouth to say something else, then quickly ducked his head and clacked his teeth together. “I remember you said something before, something like you knew what it felt like to be controlled by someone else.”

“I do know, in a way, what you’re experiencing. Some days I even want to claw my own skin off.”

He nodded. “When the Foxfire feels like it’s going to take control? It kind of feels like, I don’t know, like that lump you get in your throat when you know you’re going to be sick and can’t stop it. Like that, but in your brain. Brain . . . vomit.”

Rosalyn tried not to laugh at him, biting down hard on her lip. “Brain vomit. Mm, I think it’s safe to say you’re not the poet in this arrangement,” she teased, pointing between him and the tablet.

“Told ya.” He took a few steps toward the bunk, examining his glass as he went. She preferred staying on safer topics, though the odd shift she had anticipated after their mutual sharefest remained absent. Whatever awkwardness she felt was from his being a relative stranger, not from the fact that he now knew one of her deepest secrets.

“Where were you before the Brigantine?” she asked. His dossier would give her all of that information, at least his postings, but it felt like a natural question.

Edison stood a few feet in front of her, in line with the door, resting his cup in the crook of one elbow. The music shifted to a more upbeat song, a scattershot trumpet blasting up and down scales while mellower drums tried to keep up.

“I bounced back and forth between Merchantia Solutions campuses. Tokyo Bliss Station for a while, but they didn’t have much work for me there, it’s a small outfit. Vancouver for a while, then mostly space-based deployments after Candace and I split up.” He took a sip of whiskey and tsked softly. “I ran with this crew for quite a while, but we rotated security positions. Piero was a new guy. I’ve known Rayan for, oh, a while now. He was a good kid. So damned smart.”

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. She felt suddenly cold and wrung her gloved hands together, trying to get warm. “Rayan, I could have helped him. I think . . . I think he was still in there somewhere.”

Edison took three giant steps and knelt, ducking his head until he could find her steadily avoidant eyes. “No. No. You don’t get to wear that one around your neck. I’m the captain of this ship, I make decisions about my crew, and I made a decision to flush the storage bay. Trust me, I didn’t enjoy doing it, it endangered you and killed two men, but I did it. Leading isn’t for everyone. After a while, it isn’t for anyone.”