The multi-tool had gone into space with Piero. She had nothing. Nothing. Another crack, and the sound of spidering fractures racing along the barrier, threatening to implode. She had to think, clearly and quickly, and protect herself from what was coming headlong through the shield at any moment. Crying out to him, pleading, she shook out the newer lab suit and climbed into it, jumping to pull it faster up her body and over her shoulders, her fingers useless and shaking as she reached for the toggles and seals. This was it. Unless Misato came rushing to her aid, she would have her helmet ripped off and her lungs exposed to the spores.

She heard Edison collapse against the shield, going limp. He was still upright, one fist resting above his head, his forehead bloodied and digging against the barrier. His eyes were still bright white, but tears tracked down his cheeks, darkening his beard.

“Please,” she heard him whisper. Whimper. “Please . . . I just . . . Can I just talk to you? Can we just . . . just . . .”

I and then we. He was slipping in and out of the Foxfire’s control. That explained the tears. Rosalyn knew it was reckless to ignore him, so she grabbed a pouch of food out of the decontam pod and tore it open, slamming it down, choking but eating anyway. Cold, gelatinous pork. She ate another, and a third, knowing it might be the last time she could eat at all.

“You don’t have to hurt yourself like that,” Rosalyn said, closing the seals on her visor and swallowing desperately around a mouthful of bland mush.

Crack.

“You don’t have to listen to those voices!” she cried, racing to the shield. This was a better hope, she thought, her only hope. Cornered in the tiny room, she would never overpower him. She had seen what a beating Piero could take, and so she sided with compassion, gasping as she felt his head thump against the shield.

“Hey!” Rosalyn tapped on the barrier. Then again. “Hey, look at me, Edison. Really look at me.” She watched the fissure closely. The diffusers were on, and if the milky air from her side seeped into the corridor, she would know the room was breached.

Edison’s startling white eyes found her, his mouth turned down in a pitiful frown as he smeared his blood across the shield, struggling for air. “I don’t want to . . . I don’t want to—ach.”

His head crashed against the shield again and a sob escaped his lips, a desperate prayer. Rosalyn felt her own tears coming on, a rush of heat behind her eyes so strong it stole her breath away. But she licked her lips, steadied herself, tapping her fingers on the barrier until he locked gazes with her again.