Park felt a flash of precognition just before the impact, but wasn’t able to see who was standing behind her: all she saw was the explosion of glass, starbursts of pain erupting in her eyes. For a moment she thought she’d gone blind. She fell—though something braced her against the pain so that it was dull and muted, as if she had been wearing a padded helmet. Still, when she landed on the ground, she felt the trickle of something warm slipping down her neck.

Park looked up, blinking through the blood. Her head vibrated as if it were a struck gong. Natalya was standing over her, grim, the blue light of the room casting her face in shadow so that her eyes were as dark and empty as a funeral mask’s. She was holding a broken glass beaker in her hand; when she saw that Park was still conscious, she reversed the remaining sliver in her grip so that it became a knife.

Park stared at her. There was a dim roaring in her ears, and she did not know if it was from the muted pain of the blow—if she’d suffered a brain injury—or if something else was happening. If the unity rain had come.

Taban was speaking to Natalya through the wall of his cell, his voice low and urgent-sounding, but Park couldn’t make out his words. She said, half-slurring: “What are you doing?”

“Don’t move,” Natalya answered, cold. She looked at Park as if she didn’t recognize her. “I will kill you if you move.”

“This isn’t necessary,” Taban was saying. “Please, there’s no need for violence—”

She pointed the glass shard at him. “Shut up.” Then, to Park: “What the fuck are you even doing down here? Where’s Boone?”

Park didn’t answer her. Instead she touched the back of her head—her fingers came away damp and red—and tried to piece a thought together. Natalya’s trying to kill me. Why?

Natalya saw her thinking and lunged. Taban made another warning sound, but this time Park was ready; suddenly she felt filled with some swift, savage power, and she rolled to the side, seizing the metal legs of the desk behind her. She heaved with all her might, and the whole thing came tipping down onto Natalya, console and all. Park scrambled to her feet as the surveyor screamed—Taban yelled something about letting him out—but she didn’t look back. She had to get out of there, away from Natalya, out of the secret chamber where no one could hear or find her. She needed to find help: Fulbreech—Sagara—hell, even Boone. She ran for the gravity chute just as she heard Natalya rolling to her feet, breathing hard and cursing. Her mind was moving too fast for her to catch her own thoughts. Weapon—I need a weapon—where are the fucking weapons on this ship?