I had watched my mother launch experimental flights before, but I was only able to replicate her steps because most of the procedure was automated. The first step was to depressurize the dry dock; the second was to open the doors and maneuver the ship outside. My hand was shaking as I sent the commands. The doors slid open with a rumble I felt in my teeth, and the docking clamps began to unfold and extend, nimbly carrying Brahmin through the square opening.

“I really hope you know what you’re doing,” Xiomara said over the radio, “because I only just realized how completely fucking insane this is.”

“It’ll be fine,” I told her.

The arms of the docking clamps were fully extended. Brahmin looked so small, framed by the massive open doors and the darkness of space. My heart was racing. The maneuvering thrusters fired—over the radio Xiomara relayed what the ship was telling her, all systems normal—and the clamps released. The craft moved away from the ship, so slowly at first it did not seem to be moving at all, but then it was turning, the side thrusters firing as it found its course and calculated its trajectory. It was beyond the view in moments. The doors closed.

“See you on the other side,” Xiomara said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Soon.”

I turned off the radio.

Zahra had not spoken a single word since we arrived in the dry dock. But now she looked at me and said, “You lied to them.”

On the navigation screen, I watched Brahmin sail farther and farther away from House of Wisdom. I hoped they would be safe. I needed them to be safe. I could still feel the worrying coolness of Baqir’s skin.

“We’re not going to follow, are we?” Zahra said.

I kept my eyes on the screen. I had thought I would be able to tell when Brahmin’s main thrusters engaged, but the ship’s acceleration was smooth. Mum would have made sure it was smooth. Xiomara and Baqir had the message from her and the captain. My aunt would understand the danger and do everything she could to persuade SPEC to stay away.

But my aunt’s power had limits.

“No,” I said. “There’s something I have to do first.”

Her only reaction was to nod, and I knew then that I was right: there was something she had not told us. Something that had remained hidden in Malachi’s final words to her, in that catch of her breath when Captain Chavannes spoke about Homestead’s surrender.

“What did your friend mean when he told you to make sure they know the truth?” I asked. I turned to her and saw the minute flinch on the word friend. “He said you deserved that. What did he mean?”

“He was talking about my father,” she said.

“Your father?” It was not the answer I was expecting.