Edison’s dark brown eyes snapped open wider. “Not this again. There’s no proof, Iwasa. Just because you hate his guts doesn’t make him guilty of anything but being an asshole.”

She lowered her head and eyed him through the steam rising between them. It made sense, of course, that Edison didn’t believe her, but it was quite sad, she thought, that he wouldn’t open himself up to possibilities. Even upsetting ones. Maybe a good captain had to look for the good in his crew no matter what.

“Edison, don’t be naive. What else explains it? He was so insistent that we take an extra day on Coeur d’Alene Station, that we take that shipment . . . It stinks, reeks, really, and you know it. Tuva knew it, too; that’s why he killed her.”

“Also just guesswork,” he said. “Tuva’s headaches were getting so bad she was practically blind. It was a seizure, you said it yourself. There were no marks on her body. Nothing.”

Muttering to himself, Edison rubbed at the whiskers on his chin and pushed his chair back, balancing on the two back legs and bouncing a little with nerves. It didn’t bother her. Eventually he would come around to believe her. That, or she would find a way to toss Piero out the air lock and call it done. Unlikely, of course, given their relative sizes. But nobody ever accused Misato of being uncreative.

“I’m not here to get into that with you. Again.” Edison adjusted his spectacles, one hinge taped up for a fix. She had offered to print him a new pair but he wanted to keep them, sentimental reasons, he said. “It’s the salvager, like you said.”

“You can complain about her if you like, but I already admire her. If she smashed up Piero’s face, then she’s my kind of gal. There’s something about her, something different. Maybe I met her on campus before. I must have, her face is so familiar.”

His lips quirked to the side. “No, I feel the same thing. It’s like I know her. I get this unbelievable headache when I look at her, like it’s painful. The Foxfire reacts to her, I mean I almost . . . The Foxfire took over and I frightened her.”

Misato stared at him. The mug almost slipped out of her hands. She made her right hand into a fist, testing it, finding there was less and less sensation. To her horror, the mug’s surface barely felt hot to the touch.

“What did you do?”

“I lost control.” Edison closed his eyes, letting the chair crash back down to the floor. He squeezed the bridge of his nose just above his glasses. “Mother wants us to join her to the cluster. She’s going to try and make you do it, too.”