The building itself is sturdy and square. Colorful banners hang from the windows, depicting Titan’s flag and the Interplanetist symbol. Young soldiers, each branded but otherwise yet unmarked by the war, hand out flyers on the street side. Titan’s planetary anthem plays from speakers behind them, loud enough that they have to shout to be heard above it. While everyone on Titan has to serve a compulsory three years of their life, offices like these are eager to sign people up for longer contracts with better benefits.

As I walk up to the tall double doors, I imagine Corvus—younger, fresh-faced, scarless Corvus—approaching them three years ago, and shiver. I still don’t understand how or why he would do that. Most Titans know only the glorified bullshit propaganda tells them, but he knew what the war was really like. And from what I’ve seen of him now, it changed him in all the ways I feared it would. Part of me feels bad about the way things have already soured between us… but he’s the one who abandoned me, I keep telling myself. And he’s the one who’s still wrapped around Momma’s finger. Maybe once I have my ship and my future secure, I’ll be able to find a way to mend things. But not now. Right now, I need to seize my last chance and secure some money and power before Momma gives everything to Corvus.

I walk through the double doors, past the soldiers and the flags, and directly up to the front desk. This one has five receptionists at work, each of them young and disgustingly full of Titan patriotism. Four of them are already engaged with visitors, including a strikingly handsome young man who’s speaking to no less than three girls feigning interest in the service, so I approach the last and clear my throat. She smiles up at me, her fingers poised over a holographic keyboard.

“I’m here to speak to General Ives,” I say, trying to sound confident.

“Do you have an appointment with her?”

“No, but I’ve been sent directly by General Altair. Trust me, she’ll want to see me.”

The bullshit works. Soon enough, a soldier appears to escort me upstairs. He leaves me in a hallway on the third floor, where a uniformed woman who must be the general waits.

Ives is a handsome, well-muscled woman not much older than Corvus, with shoulder-length brown hair and sharp blue eyes. Like most Titans, she’s startlingly pale. While General Altair was all aged expertise and tightly coiled control, Ives is one of the youngest generals I’ve seen on this planet, and she has a dangerous look about her. Her eyes track me as I approach, though the rest of her body remains perfectly still. Her smile is sharp-edged.