Her words spark another thought in my head. Technically, that isn’t true. If we manage to set off the bio-weapon in space, it’s possible the effects wouldn’t reach the planet below. If other options run out, we may end up having to sacrifice ourselves to save Nibiru. Scorpia’s eyes flicker to mine as if overhearing my thoughts.

“But if we run, everyone on this planet will die,” I say. “And we still have no guarantee that Leonis will give Pol back unharmed. We’ve defied her once, she may have already decided we’re her enemies.”

“We have her daughter,” Lyre says, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps we can use that.”

My stomach lurches with fear, all of my worries about Shey coming to the forefront again.

“Maybe this was her plan the whole time,” I say. “The supposed deal with the council could have been a distraction. Now, if Leonis gets her daughter back—”

“Shey isn’t coming with us,” Scorpia says flatly, interrupting me. “She’s decided that she’ll meet the same fate as the Nibirans, no matter what we decide. She already informed her mother.”

The rest of my words die in my throat. I stare at Scorpia, and she meets my gaze levelly. She’s not rubbing it in, but it’s clear what the look means: I was wrong. Shey was never trying to sabotage us. She wanted peace as badly as we did. I lower my eyes, shame sinking my stomach.

“Which means Leonis would definitely be grateful if we dragged her darling daughter back,” Drom says. When everyone glances at her, she shrugs. “Just saying.”

“That would solve many of our problems,” Lyre says.

“No,” I say, glaring at each of them. I can’t believe it’s even up for discussion. “Shey gets to make her own choice.” After how much I doubted her, at least I can give her that dignity.

“Anyway, it’s pointless debating that now,” Scorpia says. “First things first. We need to decide whether or not we’re going to try to stop the ship.”

An uncomfortable silence settles. Lyre and Drom both stare at the ground, while I study Scorpia’s face, trying to determine what she’s thinking. Last time it came to a choice like this, she abstained from the vote. I never had a chance to find out what she would have done. Even after mending our relationship, I still find it impossible to tell what her real feelings are.

“Are you voting this time?” I ask her. She hesitates, and then nods.

“This time will be different,” she says. “Like I said, we only have one ship, and I’m not asking anyone to die for something they don’t believe in. So we’re doing this Nibiran style.”

It takes me a moment to realize what she’s saying.

“A unanimous vote,” I clarify.