“I’ve restored the systems, so they’re ready for Arman,” Officer Remmit tells him.

“I’ll send him down,” Orcher says. He waves a hand at me. “See you this evening, Mr. Lance.”

So, for the eighteenth time, I do it all again: ride an elevator to Floor 7 and gather data from Captain Crowe’s lab, then move to Floor 4 and measure readings in Life Support. Go back to Floor 7, analyze the data, and write a report of my observations and concerns. I think Officer Remmit told the pilots to increase the power to the MRRs, and for obvious reasons. However, one thing catches my eye: the power of the Ember’s left engine dipped at 11:48, and didn’t return to normal until a little more than an hour later, at 13:03. I give this finding its own section in the report.

After I finish, I report to Orcher, transfer the information, and walk to the Record’s Room.

Captain Blitner is talkative today. The Perihelids seem to fill him with an energy I’ve never seen in him before now. He’s full of stories about his trips through the asteroids, stories about collisions, near-misses, and men and women who risked their lives and flew into the field during emergencies on other stations. A lot of his stories are about when he was Head Pilot of the Ember, and some of the expeditions he embarked on with Orcher and Father.

I leave a half hour later than usual. As I walk out the door, Captain Blitner rattles his medicine bottle and gulps down some water.

Glacia is leaving the food court just as I arrive. We walk to the elevators in silence, but once the door closes, she rests her head against my shoulder.

“I barely ate anything,” she says. “I’m just like…blah.”

“You’re almost done,” I say, doing my best to sound cheerful. But Glacia is too distracted to notice. “Captain Fallsten will be with you the whole time. She won’t let anything happen.”

“She is half the problem,” Glacia mutters.

When the elevator opens, Floor 3: Docking Platforms glows on the opposite wall. At the end of the corridor is a gate, the same one we entered on our first day aboard the Ember.

“It’s just an hour,” I say, “but if you think something is wrong or you get scared, tell her, okay?”

“Oh, she’d love that.”

“You’re an awesome pilot. You did circles around me on Undil, remember?”

Glacia grits her teeth. “If I screw anything up…”

I don’t respond. I don’t want to think about what she means.

We stop in front of the gate, the station’s hum pulsing around us. Glacia pulls out her holotab and checks the time: 2:34. She bites her lip.

“I should go.”

“Just relax,” I say.

“I’m trying.”

“Glace?”