But once Momma is gone… once she’s gone, she doesn’t get to decide what happens anymore. Just because she’s decided to hand the ship to Corvus doesn’t mean it’s going to stay in his grasp. I don’t have to listen to him, or to her, or to anyone. I don’t have to wait and see what my traitor of a brother will do when the fate of our family rests on his shoulders.

Trying to impress my mother is a lost cause. I see that now, and I also see that it’s completely unnecessary. I’m a Kaiser, and Kaisers don’t grovel and say please when they want something. It’s certainly not what Momma did to build this business. She stole, and she lied, and she cheated her way into getting her ship and her fortune. And I’m prepared to do the same.

Corvus left us. He’s no true Kaiser. But I am, and I’m going to prove it. After that, I’m going to launch into space and wander the stars in my ship. Fuck what my mother says. She’ll be gone soon. And one way or another, I’ll take this ship and make it my own.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Veteran

Corvus

The next morning, I wake early to head to the train for the sake of avoiding unwanted company. The station is just below the surface, chillier than the lower levels of the building, and the ceiling trembles under the weight of activity in the hangar above. I stand near the tracks, bundled up in the ragged clothes I scavenged from the medical wing. They’re too thin to warm me much and don’t fit well—but neither does my uniform anymore, and I don’t want to arrive in Drev Dravaask wearing it. As of today, I’m no longer a soldier.

When I first arrived on Titan, underground rooms made me feel caged and nervous. Especially so in places like this, where the ceiling occasionally shakes loose clouds of dust, and the rumble of trains along the tracks makes it feel like the whole building could collapse on top of me. Over the years it’s become normal. Now, for the first time in a long time, I wonder if it will feel strange to walk in the sunlight again.

I turn to salute General Altair when he arrives, and he nods to me, scrutinizing my clothing with a flick of his eyes.

“Morning, General.”

“Morning, civilian.”