Vac suits aren't a problem, the guy says, and Amos's spine immediately stiffen. The hell does that mean? The last creature he's seen in the vacuum of space without a suit was not good news.

But, again, he has to take stock. Maybe, under other circumstances, Amos would immediately go on the attack - but. The protomolecule hybrid had not made conversation. It had not looked anywhere near human, or coherent, apart from its one mission. The protomolecule needed a biomass, energy, tons of it. That was what Cortazar talked about - it wasn't intelligent, it was a set of instructions.

So. Amos wipes the back of his hand under his nose. "How are vac suits not a problem? You're planning to go outside, right?"

The door is still whining as it opens, punctuating the conversation.

"Amos. Mechanic, engineer, depends on who you ask."