“Less than five hours,” she says, her voice barely audible. I stare at her, and then the island behind her, teeming with people and life and laughter, as fear paralyzes my body.

Five hours. So little time. Even if we warned the council, even if we warned the entire planet, there wouldn’t be enough time to intercept them before they hit the atmosphere.

“Get on the ship,” I say, breaking through the fear holding me in place. “We need to get as far away from here as possible.”

I tug on Shey’s arm, but she yanks out of my grip, taking a step back and shaking her head.

“Shey, we tried,” I say, taking a step forward as she pulls away. “We really tried. We almost did it. But there’s nothing more we can do here. We have to save ourselves.”

“No.” She takes a deep breath and raises her chin, her fear melting away in an instant. “I’ve already told my mother: I’m staying with the people of Nibiru. I’ll share their fate.”

“What the hell is the point of that?” I ask, my voice rising. A few heads from nearby boats turn to us, and I lower it again. “Forget about your pride, Shey. This is stupid.”

“I gave these people my word. It’s not about pride. It’s about principle.”

“Is there a difference?” I’m struck with an urge to grab her and drag her on board the ship, but I can’t bring myself to step forward. I can’t do that to her. My stars-damned conscience sure has a habit of showing up at the worst possible times.

“I know you don’t understand.” Shey smiles at me, the expression muted and sorrowful. “But this is my choice. I’ve spent far too long being complicit in my mother’s actions. I’ve let others pay for my mistakes while I stayed safe. You said as much to me on Deva, and you were right.”

“Now’s not the time to make a point,” I say. “We’ll find a way to make sure your mother pays for this. We’ll find a way to make things better. We have a ship, and…” I trail off as the realization hits me. “We have a ship,” I say again. A much faster ship than anything the low-tech Nibirans have on hand.

There could still be time to intercept the incoming vessel. We might just be the only people in the entire system who have a chance to stop this from happening. And yet, the thought fills me with dread instead of hope. Haven’t we done enough? Sacrificed enough? I can’t make another choice like this.