Misato tried walking faster toward her, but as soon as she came within touching distance, the blue woman transformed, becoming first a liquid blob and then a body again, but it was Rayan. He looked whole. His eyes were a soft, inviting brown.

“It isn’t really you,” she said sensibly.

“No,” Rayan, or the image of him, agreed. “We are part of the cluster. Our image, our actions, and the knowledge gained before my departure. We’re all her children.”

She could feel her temper rising. Departure. That certainly was a word for it. He wouldn’t have wound up floating in outer space, dead, if not for what the Foxfire had done to them all.

“You’re excited about something,” Misato observed. Even this figment squirmed with expectation, fingers curling and flexing, a playful smile on his lips. “Things . . . are going well for you.”

“Yes,” he replied simply. “We are closer now. We will all be with her soon.”

“I don’t think so,” Misato said. She found it best to keep her voice level; any hint of aggravation or despair chased the Foxfire away. She couldn’t help but wonder if this monotone, calm medium was somehow conducive to the organism, that human emotion created an unstable or untenable environment. Rayan believed, and she did, too, that not all of its structure was purely physical—its ability to send signals telepathically must make it extraordinarily sensitive to changes in mood.

“We have proved you wrong before.”

“You have,” she allowed. Rayan stood in one place, visibly trembling with enthusiasm. “But your methods are changing, which means we must be resisting successfully. You were thoughtful, then friendly, then aggressive . . . What will you be next?”

Rayan blinked and when his eyes opened he had multiplied, until a row of copies stretched out on either side, for infinity. His smile became tranquil, beatific.

“Multitudinous.”

Then he was gone. Misato waited, reining in the urge to scream in frustration. This was nonsense. Foxfire was already everywhere in the ship, its ability to spread easily observable. Multitudinous. Minutes passed but Rayan did not return and neither did the blue woman. Misato breathed deeply and emerged from the meditation, sighing as she dropped her head into her hands. What a waste of time. She should’ve been studying Rayan’s notes instead of playing hide-and-seek with unseen monsters.

There was a soft tap on the door outside the cockpit, and she swiveled in the chair to find Rosalyn waiting there, dressed in the shiny white Merchantia lab suit.

“Is now a good time?” she asked.

Misato nodded, beckoning her forward. The salvager had a tablet in her hands, a standard-issue work pad given to everyone on the crew. Rosalyn’s eyes drifted to the flight display behind her, scanning quickly side to side.

“I thought I heard the thrusters kick up. Was that you?”