“Get to the wheel,” Lyre yells at me, while the twins stare—Drom at me, and Pol at Momma’s room. I take off down the hall as her door bangs open, her yells drowned out by the noise, and dive into my chair in the cockpit. Thank the stars I didn’t drink enough to be well and truly drunk yet. Still, with the alarm wailing and all of my screens screaming warnings at me, it takes me a few moments to realize what I’m looking at: a large object, moving toward us, fast. It’s something I haven’t seen in a long time, but I know exactly what it means.

I let out a string of curses and slam a fist to shut off the emergency alarm.

“Incoming!” I bellow down the hall for the rest of my family to hear. “It’s the Red Baron!”

A moment later, I hear the metal thunk-thunk of their grappling hooks hitting the side of our hull. I barely have time to grab a hold of my armrests before Fortuna is yanked sideways.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Loyalty

Corvus

Once the storm blows over, the outpost is a simple walk away. My team is quiet. No one speaks of last night, but I know they must be aware of what I did. The silence weighs heavily upon my shoulders, though none more than Magda’s, who won’t even look at me when I give orders. Daniil—the only one who knows the full extent of my guilt, including the children we left behind in that room—keeps stealing furtive glances at me, while Sverre seems doggedly determined to pretend he doesn’t notice anything is wrong. Everyone is tired.

By the time we reach the outpost, my mood is sour enough that I smoke more Sanita without offering any to the others, trying to dull my jittery nerves and the pain in my chest. My breath comes in shallow, painful bursts. The others stand in the hangar and wait, avoiding eye contact with me, though Magda and Sverre exchange wordless questions with their glances. Once I’m done, we set off in the spider tank. First, a quick trip to retrieve the broken exosuits from the site of the battle, which thankfully goes without a problem. Once that’s done, we head to Fort Sketa to meet the general.

I sit in the back of the tank with the bag containing the power source on my lap. Ever since the incident with Hort, I’ve been loath to take my hands off it. Magda is at the wheel, Daniil and Sverre manning the guns. The space is built for five—a normal team’s size—and the emptiness left by Ivennie’s absence is impossible to ignore. It makes the already-uncomfortable travel by tank nearly unbearable.