“For me?” She tried to think of what Fulbreech would want with her. He was the cartographer for the expedition, tasked with mapping out the new planet. She couldn’t imagine he was approaching her for psychological help, down here. In its usual way her mind went to the worst-case scenarios: Had a fight broken out between crewmembers? Was there a malfunction somewhere on the ship, and they were preparing to evacuate?

But Fulbreech said, a little bashfully: “I heard you’d gotten sick and I was coming to visit you. Are you feeling better?”

Park pressed her lips together; so news had already spread around the ship. Did anyone suspect that she’d been slipped something? Were they all in on it? Out loud she said, “I’m fine.”

Then, belatedly: “Thank you.”

If he found her rude, Fulbreech gave her no indication of it. He was one of those people who could hide very little from her, with his friendly, guileless face, his clear blue eyes and strong chin. He began, “Do you—”

Then he seemed to lose his nerve, perhaps sensing she didn’t want to discuss it, and said instead: “I was, ah, wondering if you were free in an hour or so.”

She checked the time on her inlays. “I’m scheduled to have lunch at two.” The ISF kept them on rigid timeslots and rotations, something Park didn’t agree with: their schedule helped to maintain a sense of routine for crewmembers who had no sense of conventional time on Eos, with its two alien suns—but the lack of freedom and community also tended to breed resentment on the ship.

“I am, too,” Fulbreech said, his words a little too quick. As if he was trying to preempt some response from her. “And I was wondering—well. I have a surprise I’d like to show you. To help you feel better. I think you’ll like it. Will you join me after your meal?”

Park’s stomach jerked. She didn’t like that. Didn’t like surprises, not knowing what might be waiting for her. She’d had enough of the unexpected today, anyway. But because she had to know, she said warily: “What is it?”

Even in the dark, she could see Fulbreech’s grin. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it?”

“I still would prefer to know.”

He laughed: the sound was rich and warm, and seemed to reverberate through the tunnel. Park’s stomach squirmed. “Just eat quickly, and come see me on Deck B afterward, all right? I’ll tell you then.”

Then he turned and walked off down the tunnel, back in the direction he came. Fulbreech had the odd habit of whistling while he walked, which often made others stare. Few of the space-born knew how to do that anymore. They didn’t need to; sound carried so differently, away from Earth. Things like a whistle got distorted in the star-screaming void of space.

Park stared after him as he vanished down one of the vertical hatches, which opened like a pit into the floor. What on Earth was the cartographer up to?