Her panic spiked as the inside of the suit stayed dark. Isn’t there supposed to be a visual dash? Cameras? I can’t see a thing. Is it broken? She tried to take a step forward, but the suit’s heavy legs were resistant. Mitzi struggled to control her breathing as sweat broke out over her. Then Skye’s voice, muffled, called, “Press the button again to turn it on!”

Mitzi’s shaking fingers found the small knob near her palm and pressed it. The plates surrounding her tightened as they locked into place, and the inside of her helmet flickered to life.

“Okay.” Mitzi sighed, feeling the panic in her chest subside. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

The screen wrapped around her face like a long, narrow TV. She could see the ship’s hull, strikingly bright and saturated. Night vision. Mitzi squinted against the light, but then the screen automatically dimmed to a kinder level.

Several signals ran along the base of the screen. She could see six numbers, with a list of details below them. 1, active, intact. 2, active, intact. 3, offline.

Only when number three’s status changed to “active, intact,” did Mitzi realise they were statuses for her crew members.

She tried to take a step forward and was delighted when the suit responded to her movement. It was clearly designed to support and mimic its owner’s actions, to reduce fatigue, and increase speed, but it hadn’t been calibrated properly. Mitzi had only intended to take a small step, but the suit sent her reeling forward. She tried to pull up short and nearly overbalanced.

A man’s voice cursed in her ear, coming through the headset, and she turned to see one of the suits had fallen to the ground—Adam’s, judging by the voice. The others were having just as much trouble as she was. They staggered around the room like drunk robots, bumping into the walls and each other.

“I hate this,” a voice shrieked.

“Mir?”

“Let me out! I want to get out!”

“Calm down,” Mitzi said, trying, and failing, to keep her voice patient. She turned to face the girl, and her suit compromised by spinning her an extra fifteen degrees. She bit down on her own frustration with great difficulty. “This is new, and difficult, but give yourself a few minutes to adjust, and you’ll be fine.”

“Hey.” Nic’s voice came through the headset, sounding simultaneously amused and anxious. “Talking about minutes, you have two left.”

“Two? Circle around,” Mitzi barked. “We need some time to get used to this.”

“We’re already within a hundred meters of the planet’s surface. Central’s orders: if the ship wakes the Cymics up, they might try to bring us down. I’m supposed to drop you and return to a safer height to wait for the pickup.”

Panicky breathing was grating on Mitzi’s nerves. She wondered if she could silence certain suits. “Ellen, please stop hyperventilating,” she said, her voice tight with barely contained stress.

“It’s not me,” the soft voice murmured back.