Rosalyn took the pouches from her and felt her face grow hot. “I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“It still is, probably.” Misato took a seat again, brooding over her mug, and Rosalyn’s gut growled just at the sight of the steaming liquid heaven in the cup.

“God, that looks so good,” Rosalyn muttered. “I’m starving.”

“It’s coffee, probably not the best for an empty stomach.” The older woman nodded to the pouches in Rosalyn’s lap and smirked. “How do you plan on eating those?”

She hadn’t even thought that far ahead. Studying the pouches (sweet potato puree, freeze-dried turkey cutlet, reconstituted apple crumble), she chewed for a moment on the inside of her cheek. Soon she would have to use the bathroom, or make the uncomfortable decision of letting the suit cycle and expel her waste for her.

“Cold storage has the decontam chamber and a bathroom. I might be able to finagle something.”

“Or I can,” Misato suggested. She rolled away on her chair for a moment, then flicked herself back with her heels, returning with a small touch tablet she had taken from a messy examination table. “Hold this.”

Rosalyn took the mug from her while Misato brought up a simple drawing app on the tablet, sketching rapidly with her fingers, making an improbably precise schematic, as good as any Rosalyn might find loaded up on her AR.

“You worked on the Io Station Project for the Global Alliance,” Rosalyn said softly. “You’re practically a legend on Earth. Your dossier . . . I mean, it’s incredible. Why are you on the Brigantine?”

“Vacation?” Misato glanced up at her and winked, still working diligently. “I had my fill of irrigation rigs and sulfur dispersion systems, thought I would give bioengineering a look. Or maybe I just have an addiction to school. Here . . .”

Turning the tablet around, she held it up for Rosalyn to see.

“We can run the nonlethal decontam hoses to the atmospheric regulator in cold storage. You can take my oil atomizer and run it, too. With some oregano oil and melaleuca, you can create a hostile environment for the Foxfire.” The schematic was way beyond Rosalyn’s understanding, but she nodded and took a photo of it with her AR display.

“Oregano and mela . . . mela what now?

Misato laughed, a belly laugh that shook her whole body. “Melaleuca. In combination they’re lethal to most fungi.”

“I see. So why didn’t you try it on yourself?” Rosalyn asked gently.

“Oh, we did. Just made us sick. By the time we tried ridding our bodies of the Foxfire, it was too late.” She took her coffee mug back and chugged from it. Afterward, her smile had faded away and Rosalyn felt like a jerk for prying. Still, she was part of this mess now, too, and any weapons were good weapons in her estimation.

“Right. Forget I said anything. I’m sure you tried everything you could.”