The fleet exited the solar system overnight. Undil is nowhere to be found in the blackness behind us. Instead, the Milky Way bulges off to our right side, its cloudy patches glowing with the light of the galaxy’s core. And the stars. It would be an understatement to say there are thousands of them. Brilliant dots shine all around us. Orange dots, yellow dots, blue dots, white dots. Little dots, big dots. Dots, dots, dots. The Kairos supernova is the biggest dot of them all, dominating its portion of the galaxy.

“Take a good look,” Orcher says. “I expect we’ll lose it before morning.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ll pass the edge of the supernova’s light and Kairos will disappear until the trip home.”

I hadn’t thought of that. Though our expedition will reach Belvun in a month, the supernova’s light won’t arrive for another fifteen years. That means the fiery orb has yet to grace Ladia’s eyes. I’ll be there for it. One day we will look to the sky and the supernova will explode above us.

But tomorrow, Kairos will become nothing more than a dot among dots, less beautiful in life because I have already seen it in death.

I look at Orcher. He’s fiddling with his wristwatch, twisting a tiny knob between his fingers. When he notices me, he clicks the knob back into place.

“Ready to start your next assignment?” he asks.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll find the Records Room on Floor Eleven. Captain Blitner will already be there. He’ll show you what he does. After that, the rest of the day is yours.”

“That’s all?” I ask, shocked by how little work he has for me.

Orcher examines his watch again and shines its face on his sleeve. “That’s all.”

The Records Room is different than the other labs and offices I’ve seen on the Ember. It looks like one of Cornell’s libraries: workstations—most of which are turned off—are scattered throughout the room, and glowing panels hang on the walls. A short set of stairs rises to the second level, a balcony that wraps around the room.

From what I can tell, I’m alone. The station hums around me, but there are no other noises. No footsteps or whispers of conversation. It’s empty.

Until I see the desk.

It’s hidden behind the stairs. I would have missed it had I not stepped farther inside. Behind the desk is a man, arms crossed and head slumped down into his chest. His mouth is open slightly. The blue aura softens his face. He must be asleep. Should I wake him up? Does Orcher know he’s asleep?