She called up the ship schematic on her AR display. The captain was leading them closer to the extensive storage needed for crew supplies, specimens and experiments. The area on the map marked MAINTENANCE ACCESS was getting closer, as well as a labeled hatch leading down to the bay for rovers and collection vessels. Storage, storage, maintenance, she thought, counting off the circular doors as they went by. It wouldn’t hurt to keep her bearings, even if those bearings were covered in that same glittering blue web of growth and spores. Her display continued trying to identify the growth, but the progress bar remained empty. Did that mean they could see her wherever she went in the ship? Was each of those glowing nodules another vigilant and watchful eye?

They stopped outside a regular storage hatch. JAX remained close, in easy striking distance. Still, he was an old model, and could possibly be knocked over with enough shoulder force. And then what? Rosalyn waited, watching the hatch door hiss open.

She held the extinguisher at the ready.

“Aren’t you nervous?” she asked. “To be alone with me, I mean. I attacked your friend.”

“He’s not my friend,” he replied flatly. Then he stepped into the doorway, gesturing for her to go through. When she hesitated, the Servitor lightly clamped her forearm and tugged. “And no, you’re . . .” He trailed off, but he sounded almost sad. “I want to trust you. I don’t know why, but something tells me I can.”

I wouldn’t bet on that, buddy.

Rosalyn stumbled through into the storage bay. It was roomy, most of the crew-supply crates pushed to the edges of the space. Someone, the captain, probably, had dragged a mattress onto a few crates and stacked more around it, making a kind of sleeping cubby. The growth had infiltrated it, pulsing lightly along the cubby ceiling. It reminded her of the dumb little glow-in-the-dark stars she had stuck to her bedroom ceiling as a kid. She had tried to bring them to boarding school, too, but they were confiscated. Back then she had wondered when she would go see the stars herself, and if she would get to, and now here she was, wishing she could go back.

A folding table was set up to the left and it was littered with notes, monitors and the captain’s VIT, which had either been powered off or run out of juice.

She wandered to the middle of the bay, still clutching her one and only weapon.

“And besides, what exactly would make me nervous?” he asked, walking with that same tired gait to the table and putting both hands on it. She wondered why he wouldn’t face her. The Servitor stood between her and the door, which closed, sealing them inside.