Orcher offers me coffee. I accept it. Like he did yesterday, he puts in too much creamer. The coffee cools. It’s too sweet, but I drink it, then leave the Bridge. Captain Crowe has my assignments laid out for me in his lab. I work for two hours, and then he transfers me to Life Support for another hour. I walk back to Crowe’s lab and type up both reports, taking special care to address any concerns the readings might yield. There are none today. I had noticed the slight fluctuation in the engines yesterday, but Crowe didn’t tell Orcher until after my shift—well before Captain Fallsten complained at dinner.

I go to the Records Room at twelve-thirty. To my surprise, Captain Blitner is awake. His droopy smile wiggles, and he looks pleased with himself for not falling asleep today. We sit at our workstations and dive into our routine of reading and highlighting. I filled two cups of water before we started, so when Captain Blitner takes his medicine, I don’t have to stop my work.

We take a short break at noon, then work straight through until lunchtime. I eat alone—again—then head to my room and change for the fitness center. It’s crowded, as usual. An arm machine opens up first. The man who was using it help me calibrate the machine to my body.

Push forward…draw back. Breathe. Repeat. The effort exhausts my arms faster than I anticipated. I’m only able to repeat the exercise ten times. My arms tremble, muscles taut and sore. Other people repeat the exercise twenty…thirty…even forty times. There are machines to exercise shoulders and forearms and chests and abdomens. Some officers never seem to tire. They squeeze out thrust after thrust, teeth clenched, temples throbbing. A man dabs his face with a towel. He glances at the counter logging my pulls and smirks.

Just what I need: humiliation.

I cut my break short and wrench out ten more pulls. My shoulders sear with pain and I manage three cycles before my body screams for me to stop. My face is hot and I chug four glasses of water to cool down.

Shower. Lay in bed.

My stomach grumbles but I ignore it. Orcher will come get me at eight o’clock for dinner—he told me so earlier today—but didn’t mention if Captain Fallsten would join us again.

I turn my body and stare at the blank wall to my left, where Father would shine the picture of my family. Determined, I strap on my tendril gloves and activate the projector. A list of files shimmers in the air, files with names like Treatises and Records and Stats and Daily Logs and Belvun and Narviid.

Then I see it: Home.

My fingers hover over the tiny data orb. This is the file with the pictures, I know it.