She nodded, glanced at the console once more, and suddenly disappeared. Her boots scuffed loudly against the floor as she retreated from the console room, a courtesy, I knew, because Mia could move as silently as a snake when she wanted.

The exchange left me bewildered, although not unpleasantly so. I’d made progress with Mia over the last few weeks. I’d hoped the shared experience, the terror of escaping the aliens, might bring everyone together, and it had for a while. Some of us felt it more than others: Mia and Cage and Rune and Alexei, who had faced the nightmare themselves, who had seen friends die around them, and me and Imani . . . Imani, who we’d found dangling from chains on the alien ship, who’d healed herself too late to help her sister.

As the space between Cage and me grew, I’d started spending more time with Imani. We didn’t talk about it much, but we’d both lost family in that attack: Imani lost her sister, and me . . . I lost my mom. When I hung out with her, we talked about anything but our families: reality vids, VR games, our favorite video bloggers. Imani seemed to have a thing for beauty bloggers and could rattle off names I’d never heard of, the so-called beauty belles and their incredibly popular channels. I listened in fascination as she explained exactly what I needed to do to my eyebrows to maximize my features. Maybe I would even try it if I ever got off this ship.

Hanging out with Imani was nice. She was the only person who never brought up the aliens, the deaths, our current circumstances. She had never once turned to me and said, What do we do now? Like me, she just wanted a few minutes to forget, and sometimes we could find that together. I wished she were here now. I could use a few minutes of forgetfulness. I contemplated going to find her, asking her a question guaranteed to engage her interest—So what did you say was the key to a successful online presence?—but a sudden burst of exhaustion overwhelmed me.

I sank down against the wall, staring at Rune’s corner, and stroked my fingers over the smooth silver of my wrist comm, trying not to dwell on how much I missed my dad, no matter how furious I still was. The silence of the control room settled over me. It had been a long time since I’d been alone. Unbidden, memories surfaced: feeling my way around this room in the dark, every sound a potential alien waking from its slumber. I winced, wrapping my arms around my knees, a wave of nausea threatening, and I allowed myself just one moment of weakness, my limbs trembling, my heart racing, my breath coming in short gasps, before I pulled myself together. I couldn’t let anyone see me like this. I had to . . . what? There was nothing to do. Nothing I could do. I stared miserably at the tangled nest of blankets.