As they approached the bridge’s closed doors, Park could hear a soft, melting murmur from beyond the threshold: a stiff and formal blend of voices that sounded like an audience at a trial. She palmed open the doors and found, with a little jolt in her neck, that nearly a dozen androids were crammed into the room together, oblivious to their own crowding. They were all looking at something in the corner.

Forgetting Jimex, Park shoved her way through; the robots yielded to her like stalks of corn in a field. “Hunter?”

Yes, Boone’s lieutenant was there, she saw with a sinking in her gut; she was standing stock-still at a panel of controls, her eyes fixed blindly ahead of her. She was standing oddly, too, in a stiff, rigid way that made Park doubt she was sleepwalking. There was none of the slackness of sleep. But she didn’t seem quite awake, either. She wouldn’t look at Park. When Park approached, Hunter’s head cocked to the side—as if to acknowledge her—but she didn’t turn.

Park didn’t want to touch her, remembering what had happened when she’d grabbed Holt. She said instead, “Are you awake?”

“Yes.” Hunter’s voice was toneless, devoid of affect. Calm.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m not sure.”

“How are you feeling?”

Hunter paused. “I’m not. I don’t feel anything.”

Now Park did touch her, cautiously, circling her thumb and forefinger around Hunter’s wrist. The military specialist let her do it, unfazed as Park checked her pulse. It was steady, strong.

What am I even doing? Park asked herself. She had no idea how to handle this kind of situation; wasn’t used to diagnosing anyone without her usual aids and devices. Suddenly she realized she could tell very little about someone’s health without a machine. All she knew was that Hunter’s temperature seemed normal, her breathing sounded unobstructed. But that alone told her nothing.

She felt the expectation of the watching robots weighing on her, threatening to press her down into the floor. She said, “What do you want with the controls?”

Hunter looked at the panel distantly, as if she’d forgotten about it for a moment. “I’m not sure. Someone told me to use them. They control the ship. But I didn’t understand what they wanted me to do.”

“Who?” Park asked, even more alert now. Was Hunter hearing voices? “Who told you to do that?”

Hunter shook her head. “I don’t remember,” she said, still heavy-lidded and tranquil. “Maybe it was me.”

“Look at me, Hunter.”