God, please, she thought, thinking of Dianex’s long black hair; Megex’s gentle smile, even Philex’s twitchy, nervous look. Jimex. Please, none of them.

After the shot there was no sound—nothing but the sounds of the ship, coughing and stirring to life. Park felt her inlays flickering back on. Had Sagara finally gotten the ship running at full capacity again? Does that mean he wants to take off?

No, Sagara was adamant about completing the mission at all costs—and somehow, deep in the foundation of her bones, down in her mandible and in her hips, Park felt that they would not leave Eos. Not like this.

Fear eventually pressed her onward. Either Jimex and the others were fine, or they weren’t. There was nothing she could do about it now. Chances were they had swarmed Natalya, and she had simply fired into the air to frighten them away.

But androids didn’t know that kind of fear, she remembered then. They didn’t have that instinct to self-preserve. If Natalya put a bullet in one of their heads, the others wouldn’t react. Like how Jimex hadn’t flinched when Boone pointed a gun at his face.

She began to cry, weakly, even as she panted for breath. Finally she made it to the doors that sealed the bridge and palmed them open; she staggered through the threshold with blood and tears commingling on her face.

Sagara stared at her. He was flipping through some sort of digital manual as it hovered in the air before him like a sheet of pale flame. At the sight of her he automatically put a hand to his weapon.

“There’s a robot down in the utility rooms,” Park gasped, before he could beat her to the punch. “It isn’t data they’re keeping down there—it’s a robot. A HARE. They’ve been studying him, and the man I saw, he’s down there, too, dead—”

“I know,” Sagara said, his face shuttered. He moved over to Park and handed her a tissue, as if her face was the most pressing of his concerns.

She waved him off. “You knew?” Then: “Never mind. Natalya found me down there—attacked me. She’s coming after me now, she wants to kill me—and she has a gun—”

There were sudden steps behind her. The two of them turned sharply, Sagara pushing Park behind him—but it was Boone who came puffing up, his own electrolaser gun drawn. His eyes boggled when he took in the sight of her, but he said to Sagara, “What’s going on? I heard gunshots.”

“That would be Natalya,” Sagara answered, motioning for him to get out of the way.

Boone frowned. “She doesn’t have a gun.”

“Apparently she does.” Sagara scowled at both of them. “How did you get out of your rooms?”