Drom shrugs unapologetically. “Whatever. Help me get Corvus to the cockpit.”

We struggle toward the stairs in an awkward, shuffling procession, Lyre trailing along behind us.

Getting to the cockpit is more easily said than done. As hard as Corvus is trying to put on a tough face, it becomes progressively clearer that he’s hurt worse than he initially let on. Merely helping him from the cargo bay to the main deck has him breathing raggedly and leaning heavily on our shoulders. Progress is terribly slow, especially when I’m so eager to find out what’s going on in the rest of the ship.

We pass a number of bodies both dead and unconscious on the way up, which I assume is Corvus’s handiwork. But just as many of the Red Baron’s crew are still standing. They nod to us as we pass by. I’m still stunned at how readily Izra agreed to our cause. Once she and Orion were on our side and started spreading the truth about what they were transporting, many of the others joined us as well. Some refused, of course—whether because of loyalty, old grudges, or anger over the fact that Corvus and Drom had already carved their way through a chunk of their crew—but between the mutiny and Lyre sowing discord by screwing with the gravity drive, we soon overwhelmed them. In the end, most of those who stayed loyal to Captain Murdock were the mercs they hired on Gaia, not his own crew.

“You holding up?” I ask Corvus as we enter the last hallway. I try not to sound overly concerned, but it’s impossible not to notice how much he’s slowing down.

“Fine.” Despite his words, his face is pale and sweaty. “Just get me there.”

So I do.

Once we reach the cockpit, I stop in the doorway, letting out a low whistle now that I’m able to properly appreciate it. Even for an experienced pilot like me, the vast array of machinery is a little dizzying to look at. Beyond that, Nibiru looms larger than I expected through the viewing panel.

“Mind setting me down before you admire the view?” Corvus asks through gritted teeth.

Drom and I help him over to the copilot’s chair. I take what must be Orion’s usual chair, and my two sisters stand in the back of the room.

“Okay…” I eye the shiny buttons and displays, all unfamiliar. “So… let’s start with…” I tap my way through the basic functions, but it soon becomes clear that something is very, very wrong. “What the hell? Where are the damn diagnostics…?”

“Oh,” Drom says. “I guess I should probably mention I blew up some shit in the engine room.”