“Right,” I mutter, setting the pile down and starting the process. I swear, there’s always a storm warning here. Titan’s surface is pretty much one big, angry, everlasting storm. While I pull on my jacket, I glance over at Momma, trying to find some hint of approval in her constant scowl. But I shake off that instinct, reminding myself of our last conversation and my determination to stop sucking up to her. Nothing I do will ever be good enough, and I need to stop caring either way. Instead, I look around at my siblings and prompt, “How about that landing, though?”

“Just hurry up,” Momma snaps, and then turns her anger on Pol, who is having trouble detangling his goggles from his gloves. I sigh, shaking my head and plunking down on the floor to make it easier to strap on my boots. Lyre, standing nearby and already fully geared, glances down at me.

“It was a pretty good landing,” she says. I glance up at her suspiciously, certain there must be some kind of insult or trick hidden in the statement, but before I can respond, she turns her back and heads for the ramp. I frown down at my boots and their knotted laces instead.

“It was a good landing,” I mutter to myself, and hurry to finish prepping before the rest of my family leaves me behind.

The cave is warmer than the rest of the surface, close enough to an underground hot spring that Fortuna won’t be buried under ice and snow while we’re gone. Still, pinpricks of chill immediately inform me of every patch of skin I left uncovered in my haste to suit up. I hiss at the shock of it, pulling my gloves up and readjusting my scarf until I’m properly protected from the weather. The city of Drev Dravaask is merely a half mile or so from our position, but a half mile can be brutal in this weather. Given the winds, we’ll have to travel on foot rather than use the hovercraft.

Three Interplanetist soldiers wait at the bottom of our ship’s ramp when we emerge. They’re wearing considerably less protective gear than we’re equipped with, their breath forming white clouds around their mouths. Their faces are covered in cloth and their uniforms are bulky, but judging by the way they shiver, it isn’t enough. Momma approaches them and speaks to the one who nods to her first. She has a twin at each elbow, both of them carrying a gun in one hand and a stack of sealed cargo crates in the other.