My shoulders slump. So much for another chance to prove myself before Corvus’s return… and so much for this job being anything close to legitimate business. I’m burning with questions, but I’m already pressing my luck with Momma by delaying the launch this much. So after a moment I take a deep breath, nod, and jog upstairs through the messy middle deck.

The cockpit still smells like spilled whiskey, and glass crunches beneath my boots as I make my way to my chair, but it’s comforting to sink into my usual seat. Here, at least, I feel equipped to handle whatever problems come my way. My hands go through the motions, prepping for launch, while my mind settles into a blank state. It feels good not to think, at least for a little while, and better to see my screens come to life and the lights turn red. I strap myself in, wrap my hands around the wheel, and start her up.

As Fortuna launches and we leave Gaia far behind, I allow myself to pretend for a few golden minutes that we’re not headed toward worse trouble on Titan.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Our People

Corvus

The storm screams around us as we make the long trek back to the outpost.

The cold is constant and ruthless on this planet, but the current storm is harsh even by Titan standards. The wind rips at my heavy clothing as I lean into it, one hand raised to cover my eyes. I can barely see the others through the snow whipped into a haze of white in all directions. We travel for hours, guided by Magda’s compass, and make little progress. But we have to keep going. Seeking shelter so close to enemy territory is suicide. If the storm trapped us, we would have nothing to do but wait to be found and slaughtered.

Finally, we’re safely on our own ground. But everyone is growing weak and tired, lagging farther and farther behind. My ribs are in agony, this alien power source feels heavier with each step, and the weather shows no sign of letting up. We’ll never make it to the outpost in these conditions. So I signal Magda closer and shout at her to take us to the closest shelter possible. I hate doing this, especially with something so valuable on our hands, but we have no choice.

After another hour’s travel, when my legs feel ready to give out beneath me, Magda leads us to a small border town called Kisk. Built into a series of caves on the side of a cliff, the town is barely visible through the storm. I head for the first door I see and rap my knuckles against the stone in three heavy knocks.