When Corvus was still here, he was next in line to be captain. Next in line to inherit Fortuna and run the family business. After he left, Momma’s pressure on me made it clear the responsibility became mine instead. But if he’s coming back… what does that mean for me?

“Wait,” I say, turning toward Momma. She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow, so I rush to catch up with her. “We need to talk.”

“Nothing to talk about,” she says without looking at me. I hurry forward, swinging around to step between her and the lock-pad on the wall. She scowls up at me, eyes hardening in a warning expression that very nearly sends me scurrying, but I hold my ground.

“You know exactly what we have to talk about.”

“Out of the way, girl,” she snaps. I waver and finally step to the side. As she punches in the code for the ramp, one side of the cargo bay hisses open and begins to gradually fold outward. “Focus on the job. We’ll talk about the ship afterward.”

“But—” Before I can get another word out, she pushes past me and heads for the nearby supply closet. I run a hand through my hair, stomach souring as I chew on those last words. She knows exactly what I want to talk about, and she’s dodging the issue intentionally. “Bullshit,” I mutter, and head toward the supply closet she disappeared into.

As the ramp lowers, the crimson glow of the planet’s constant day spills into the cargo bay. I grimace and raise a hand to ward it off while I walk. My eyes will adjust to the color difference soon enough, but the red-tinted light always makes my head hurt after a week on Fortuna. I prefer the brighter yellow lighting of the ship, and the twenty-four-hour day/night cycles programmed into it. They’re both modeled after the generation ships that brought humanity here, which were designed to mirror their home-world. But Gaia, like all the planets, has one side locked forever facing the red star at the center of the system, and its people live in a constant state of midday. It’s the only way to live, since the dark side is too cold for anything to survive there. The constant light makes it difficult to keep track of hours or days or any time at all, which is why all the planets agreed early on to stick to Earth’s ancient system.

I duck into the supply closet after Momma. She’s already pulling on her hooded poncho and green-tinted goggles, part of the usual Gaian attire. I grab my own equipment off a shelf labeled with my name, pushing aside the heavier gear meant for Titan and grabbing the gloves that Gaians customarily wear.