“No,” Park said. She thought fast. She didn’t remember going to the bathroom at all, let alone spending an entire night in there. But it was true that she had woken up space-sick and nauseous every day since they’d launched out of Baikonur; she had never left Earth before, had never worked with a flight crew of any kind, so was it that much of a stretch that the long journey had finally taken its toll on her?

But all night?

She needed information first, not a fight with the ship’s only physician. “I’m sorry,” Park said, squelching any emotion out of her voice. “It must be the sedatives, fogging my memory. I don’t doubt your word, of course. I just don’t remember.”

Chanur grunted, unimpressed. “Someone put something in your food,” she said, consulting the medical manifest in her hand. She said it in a bored tone, as if she were reporting a change in the weather. “Emesis tabs. Not taken from the stockroom, so it must have been from the culprit’s personal stash.”

Park clenched her jaw to keep it from slackening. “Who? Why?”

Chanur gave her a look. “I don’t know who. As for the why—what do you think?”

Park pressed her lips together. She was not popular with the crew, everyone knew this; and some of the space-born had mocked her ongoing queasiness, going so far as to call her a “garn”—after Senator Andrew Garn, an Earth politician whose intestines had bottomed out during the first lambda space flight. And they hated her for her role on the ship, and for what had happened in Antarctica, and for any number of things—but she’d thought the hazing and pranks had stopped on Earth. To go as far as poisoning her food . . .

She jerked her thoughts away from the topic, despite the heartsick feeling in her chest. She needed time to regroup her thoughts, away from Chanur’s unsympathetic gaze. She needed to talk to Dr. Keller and decide what should be done. There was no doubt in her mind that punishment ought to be meted out. But to whom—and by whom—was something she needed to consider.

“Will there be any long-term effects?” she heard herself ask, as if she was listening to her own voice from another room.

Chanur looked like she wanted to roll her eyes. “Teenagers eat emesis tabs with their meals to lose weight. You’ll be fine.”

She turned away, perhaps to begin the process of discharging her, so Park said, “How’s Reimi?” The abruptness of it was gauche, but she hoped she could surprise Chanur into answering. “Has her condition . . . improved?”

The doctor’s shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t turn around. “Officer Kisaragi is in cryogenic stasis,” she said finally.