Yes, she supposed she did, Park thought reluctantly. ISF had authorized Boone to use his gun and keep non-conscripted from finding out about all of this. Why? Because if they let the information leak to someone back home, there would be few consequences for them beyond termination, possibly a lawsuit. Conscripted expedition members, on the other hand, were keeping the secret under virtual pain of death. If ISF found out they’d disobeyed their orders, their citizenship in the Frontier could be revoked: they’d have to uproot their families, leave their homes. Exit space forever.

She felt a dim glow of both sympathy and shame. So that was what Fulbreech had risked, tipping her off. He’d given her as much of a clue as he could about what was going on. And yet . . .

“If I’m not authorized, I can’t access the data down there,” Park said. “Can Fulbreech?”

Wick looked uncomfortable. “He’s conscripted,” was all he said.

“So did he run down to the utility rooms to make sure I was safe, or did he go down there to prevent me from finding whatever trick is concealing the research lab?”

Wick barreled forward as if she hadn’t asked the question. “It should be obvious why such a thing needs to stay under wraps,” he said. Park frowned, but he continued: “The implications of it, the consequences, they’re too unpredictable. We don’t know anything about the thing, yet. We can’t have the public finding out about it, the entire galaxy blowing up over something that could turn out to be unusable. So we have to tread very carefully.”

Begrudgingly, she saw the picture he was painting for her. Crewmembers writing home, unable to contain their excitement. Researchers clamoring to make the big discovery that could change the world—making mistakes in their academic fervor. Greed and fear and jealousy setting in. Competitors trying to nose their way into classified business. Or someone getting political, spiteful; destroying the thing before ISF could use it. Yes, the fewer people who knew, the safer. She could see it. But she still didn’t necessarily like it.

“Is that what Keller was working on?” she asked. “Her special project?”

“Yes.”

“But what would you need a psychologist for? It seems like a problem for a quantum physicist.”

Wick shrugged. “She had her orders from ISF.”

There was a little silence between them as Park struggled to absorb all of this. Finally she said, “So Boone’s in charge of guarding this . . . data.”

“Well,” Wick said. “Sagara is, technically. He’s in charge of ensuring the data is safe from sabotage and loss. Boone’s in charge of protecting us from outside threat.”

“But we’re the only ones on Eos,” Park said, surprised. “There’s no one else out here.” She looked into Wick’s eyes, which looked shuttered and wary suddenly. “Right?”

At this, Wick only shrugged. “You never know,” was all he said.