“Corvus chose Titan’s people above us,” I burst out as I dress, unable to contain the whirlwind of my thoughts inside my head. I hop on one foot as I pull my pants on, and nearly stumble into the dust-covered cryosleep chamber in the corner. “He’s been gone for three years. In Titan’s war. We don’t know…” I trail off as Momma grabs her scarf and leaves the closet, completely ignoring me. Mumbling half-formed complaints, I pull on the rest of my equipment, check to ensure the box is still snug in my pocket, and grab a clunky handheld comm from the stack. The thick square device is rudimentary for Gaia’s level of tech, but it’s enough to keep me in contact with the rest of the family if we end up separated.

Once I’m ready, I head out into the sunny, red-dyed cargo bay and join Momma where she waits for the ramp to finish lowering.

“Not another word,” she says, holding up a hand. “Focus on the job. That’s the last time I’m gonna say it.”

I’m familiar enough with her tone to know pushing more will get me a smack, so I grit my teeth and hold my tongue. My thoughts continue stewing as we wait for the ramp to complete its slow and rumbling process.

I keep trying to convince myself that Momma would never hand the ship to Corvus, not after he’s been gone for three years doing stars-know-what on that damned, desolate planet. We all know what the war on Titan is like. Whispers of it reach all the way to Pax—the story of a planet torn in two by civil war shortly after it was settled, and the endless cycle of brutality and revenge that has carried on ever since. I’ve seen the war with my own eyes during my family’s visits, the blackened battlefields and rows of frozen, uniformed bodies. I’ve seen a lot of things in this system, both beautiful and terrible, but never anything as horrifying as Titan.

And Corvus, with his easy smile and gentle hands, was never a fighter. Frankly, I’m surprised he survived. But I’m damn sure the parts of him I loved didn’t.