I cling to that last glimpse of Pol before the three of them disappear around the corner, committing the memory of his face to my mind, just in case… just in case. I want to do something, anything—or at least be there for the end of it. But Lyre is right. We need to get out of here before we all end up like Pol. I take a deep breath, turn, and run for the cockpit.

It’s possible bringing Pol on board means we’re all doomed anyway, but I have to hope. Hope, and do what I can to save what’s left of my family. I grit my teeth, blink away tears, and start the launch sequence, flipping levers and hitting buttons and typing in my personal command code.

For the first time ever without Momma aboard, I prepare the ship for launch.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Consequences

Corvus

Titan is dying. Momma is gone. It feels as though the entire world is collapsing around me, but right now I have to focus on Pol seizing in my arms. His muscular body arches and contorts, his breath a pained gurgle, his eyes rolling. I nearly lose my grip on him, but we manage to lift him onto the nearest table in the med bay. As soon as she lets go of him, Drom steps back.

“I need your help,” I say, meeting her eyes. They’re wide, her face drawn and pallid. Her chest rises and falls rapidly. Drom could face a million firefights with a grin and a war cry, but now, her fear is palpable. She’s no soldier under my command, just a nineteen-year-old girl whose twin is dying in front of her. Still, she takes a deep breath and nods at me, ready to follow orders.

Pol spews out another mouthful of black goo, so reminiscent of the liquid running through the cords on that alien ship that my stomach lurches. The sound of his breath is a terrible thing, wet and struggling. I don’t know what the hell is happening to his body, but I’m familiar enough with the sound of choking.

“Get him onto his side,” I say, rushing to the cabinets. I rustle through the shelves and containers. After three years away, I still remember the med bay’s layout. Aside from the pills and quick-fix kits, it’s shocking how little the rest has changed. “We need to help him breathe.”

Drom sets her jaw and grabs Pol, turning him onto his side the same way she saw me do it. She lowers her helmeted head toward him and whispers words too quiet for me to overhear.