“Plan B,” Sagara was saying. “We have no choice. We’ll get the weapons first and then form a strategy.”

“I’ll cover you,” Fulbreech said over the roar of the engines. He, too, was clinging to a gravity hook and looking unsteady—but his eyes were determined. “They took my gun; we had an argument, and I don’t think they trust me anymore. But I made up an excuse, said I have to check something with the engines, so they won’t be looking for me. Not yet, at least. But they’re trying to turn on the neural inlay system, too—and if they can all start communicating with each other, particularly Wan Xu, we’ll be in trouble. We don’t have long.”

“It’s true,” Park found herself saying, despite herself. “They did argue.”

“Fine,” Sagara said. “Then we’ll go to the locker while Jimex gets the other androids—”

“I need Dr. Park,” Jimex said, just as Park said over him, “Wait. You said Natalya’s trying to reach your families?”

Fulbreech nodded. “Not that it’s doing any good; no one’s responding. I think ISF found out about them and—detained them.”

“But that means you fixed the comms?”

He nodded again.

She looked at Sagara and said, “I can get to a console and send a message to ISF. Let them know what’s going on.”

“Fine,” he rapped out. “Then Jimex can go with you. Get the other androids after, and we’ll meet back at the bridge.” He paused for a moment, lifted a hand as if to clasp her shoulder, then turned away, grimacing; he could stand and walk briskly enough, but he had a limp. Park watched him stagger away, navigating the ship’s sudden bumps and bounces, and she sent up a prayer for his safety. He really would need Fulbreech to help him if his energy flagged.

“Good luck,” Sagara said over his shoulder.

Park had to smile at that. It made her think of androids, who for the most part had dispensed of niceties: but even they said goodbye to each other when they walked away. If they liked each other. She supposed this meant Sagara liked her.

Then she turned to Fulbreech. He was staring at her—staring at her smiling after Sagara—and Park knew in that moment what he was thinking. Her heart tightened painfully, as if someone were clenching it in a closed fist.

“It’s not what you think,” she told him—and then thought, Why do I care what he thinks?

But the vision again clamored for her attention, the vision of him pleading for their lives—and more than that, the feeling of knowing what he felt increased. She felt a clumsy, confusing hard bump of . . . something. She had to bite her lip against it.

Fulbreech looked at her expression and said, “Something’s happened to you, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Park said.