Rather than a celebratory cheer, the response to her statement is a tense silence. I wonder if any of the others expected this, or if, like me, everyone thought that one of the others would make the decision to run for all of us. I wonder if anyone is already regretting their choice.

Our fate is sealed. For better or for worse, we’re doing this. If we die, we die together. If we win, we all share the burden of whatever that victory means.

“All right then,” Scorpia says. “Let’s go take these bastards down.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Chaos

Scorpia

The radar lets us know that the Red Baron is coming in to Nibiru fast. We need to hit them before they’re close enough that we’ll all crash down onto the planet, which means we have a scarce fifteen minutes until impact. Fifteen minutes to gear up and strategize about how the hell we’re going to win the most important battle of our lives.

Everyone on Nibiru is counting on us. Shey is counting on us. And my family is counting on me. We may have all made this decision together, but I’m still the captain. Right now, that responsibility is making me want to vomit. My hands shake as I set a course for the autopilot, and I can’t stop thinking about Pol and Nibiru and everyone else who will suffer if we fail. Even beyond the death of an entire planet, if we don’t pull this off, Leonis’s actions will incite a system-wide war.

I know that we’re doing the right thing, but as much as the thought fortifies me, it doesn’t mean I’m not absolutely terrified. I’m not much of a fighter on my best days, and now, I desperately need to find some confidence before going in against the pirates. But when I reach down under my chair, my fingers find empty space. Fresh fear spikes through my heart. I quickly search the cockpit, but there’s no sign of my bottle here. My last bottle. It’s been a long while since I was able to properly restock, and with the stress of the last few weeks, my supply has been quickly dwindling—but I know I didn’t finish my last bottle of whiskey yet. I rush out to the middle deck to search.

The moment I step into the kitchen, I find my bottle clutched in Drom’s hand.

“What the hell are you doing?” I snap, anger bubbling up to replace the fear twisting my guts into knots.

“What’s it look like?” Drom takes a long swig. “Should be pretty familiar to you, of all people.”

I grab for the bottle, but she easily lifts it out of my reach.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot,” I say. “We need you sharp for the fight. You and Corvus are our front line right now.”