“What? What is it?” I ask, taking a step forward, and then I see. A faint shimmer on the tips of his fingers, like a dusting of light. It slowly climbs up to his arm.

“Oh, fuck,” Pol says. He takes a step backward, as if he can escape his own hand, and looks at Drom. He opens his mouth to say something, and crumples.

I catch him before he hits the floor, stumble beneath his weight, and drop to my knees with his head cradled in my gloved hands. Black froth bubbles out from between his lips, splatters on the inside of his helmet. He gasps for air, the sound an awful gurgle in his throat. His eyes roll back in his head.

“No.” I yank his useless helmet off, toss it aside, and press my hands to the sides of my brother’s head, worries about contagion far from my mind. I try to hold his head still while the rest of his body writhes. “No, no, no. Please no. What do we do?” I tear my eyes off Pol and look around the room, frantic. “Somebody… somebody do something!”

Drom is staring down at her twin in blank-faced shock. Lyre backs toward the stairs with both hands held up, her eyes wide. After a moment that feels like an eternity, Corvus lurches forward and drops to his knees next to me. He shoves my arms away and yanks Pol onto his side. Black goo spills out of his mouth.

“Andromeda, help me lift him,” Corvus says. He stands up, lifting Pol’s shoulders off the ground. Drom is frozen. “Drom,” he snaps. “Fucking help me now!”

Drom blinks like she’s coming out of a dream, and finally moves, grabbing her twin by the legs and hauling him up. Pol’s body convulses, an awful, wet cry ripping out of his throat. The sound tears at my insides, and I have to physically restrain myself from reaching out to him. I can’t do anything now. I’ll only get in the way. Corvus will handle it. He’s always been the one who takes care of us.

“Med bay,” Corvus says, and pushes forward when Drom doesn’t move. She stumbles and moves numbly, blindly, in that direction. I try to follow, but Lyre throws an arm in my path.

“Get us ready to leave,” she says. Her face is streaked with tears and her arm is shaking, but her voice is firm.

“No,” I say. “I need to—”

“You need to do your job and let Corvus do his.”

“But…” I take a step back. She’s right—of course she is—but I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight of them over her shoulder.

“Go!” Lyre shouts.