As the metal door slams shut behind her, I sigh and run a hand through my hair. Of course Momma would never have a private conversation with me about anything remotely emotional. She’ll probably just make a short speech to the whole family, let us know that Corvus survived his enlistment. I won’t be surprised if she leaves out that he wants us to pick him up. After seeing Momma’s cold expression, I’m sure she doesn’t intend to allow him back. And that’s probably for the best—or at least, I’m going to keep telling myself that it is.

I wait until the footsteps recede and Momma starts in on one of the others, her shouts echoing through the metallic hallways of the ship. Once it’s safe, I head for the door. I need to check on my ship before this “family meeting” and get my emotions under control by the time Momma makes the official announcement.

Outside the cockpit, the middle deck is in disarray. The kitchen and dining room are strewn with utensils, freeze-dried meals, and a mess of other things I can’t identify. More concerning, there’s a distinct smell of smoke. I pick my way through the room, grabbing onto bolted-down furniture for support, but it doesn’t seem to be coming from here.

On each side of the room are entrances to the personal quarters. On my left is Momma’s, flanked by the twins’. Someone who didn’t know my mother might’ve thought it was sweet of her to place our youngest closest to her, but I know the truth. The big twins are our muscle, which makes right between them the safest spot on the whole ship.

Across the disaster of a deck are the entrances to the other three rooms. Mine sits nearer to the cockpit, and at the opposite end, closest to the engine, is Lyre’s room. Between them is the bunk that once belonged to Corvus, now packed with storage overflow. After that transmission, the sight of his door feels like another slap to the face. I tear my eyes away and continue onward before the bitterness surges up. There are more important things to focus on right now, such as where the hell that smoke is coming from.

Rather than heading down the spiraling stairwell to the cargo bay, where one of the twins’ low voices alternates with our mother’s, I pass to the back of the ship and descend to the engine room, smacking the pressure pad to enter. As the metal divider slides upward, I’m greeted by a face full of smoke.