Right on cue, the high-pitched whine of machinery starts on the other side of the ramp. That would be them plugging into the hatch and accessing our security system, which means we have only a couple of minutes before they’re inside. The twins take their spots on either side of the ramp, backs pressed against the wall and guns at the ready. I lift my borrowed blaster and position myself near the supply closet door.

Lyre hurries over and crouches beside me. Her eyes are huge, but the hand wrapped around her slim-barreled laser pistol is steady.

“We’re gonna be fine,” I whisper to her.

“Fine? Fine? We’re about to board a pirate ship!”

I have no retort for that, so I shrug and glance over at the twins. As much as I’m trying to project confidence, I’m worried about our chances here, and this plan puts them right in the line of fire. They’re still smiling like it hasn’t occurred to them that they should be frightened, but then again, that’s usually the case. Even when they were children, they were prone to tumbling headfirst toward danger with grins on their faces. Pol might be the more reasonable of the two, but he doesn’t have the good sense to back down from a bad fight, either, especially not if his twin’s going in.

Just because they’re not afraid doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be. Momma told me my job was to pull fire away from Lyre, but maybe I can help the twins out as well.

“I’ve got an idea,” I say, turning to Lyre.

“Oh, no.”

“It’s—what do you mean ‘oh, no’? It’s a good idea!” I dart into the supply closet and start pulling various supplies off the shelves, searching for what I need. Stars, we have too much shit, and none of it is organized in any reasonable fashion. I don’t even know why the hell we have an adjustable bridge folded up in here, like the one the Red Baron is using to board us.

“One minute till breach, Scorpia,” Lyre calls. I curse and scramble. A few moments later, I dart out with my arms full of goggles.

“Heads up!” I call out, and toss a pair to each of the twins. Pol catches his, eyebrows rising as he looks down at them. Drom, who is busy scratching her nose, gets hit in the face with hers. She catches them before they fall, and shoots me a look that makes me take a step back. “Sorry, sorry. You’re gonna need these.”

“Night vision?” Pol asks, pulling his over his head and letting them dangle around his neck.

“For what?” Drom asks, shoving them into her pocket.

“You’ll figure it out.”