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“And you’re not?” They couldn’t see each other, but even so, Signy squinted at Cora like she was an idiot. “So, what, you can help me, but I can’t help you?”

Cora sighed again. “I don’t know what to do. I’m freaking out and I can’t figure out what to do next.”

“Okay.” Signy shut her eyes and thought. Yes, her brain and body were weary. Yes, she needed sleep. Yes, there had been the funeral and cleaning the apartment and divvying up his belongings and all of it. Yes, the wound in her was still wide open. Yes, she’d just spent a week destroying the things she cherished. Yes, she was furious at the entire world, and yes, a small voice was saying Please, I can’t do more right now, I can’t handle another thing going wrong—but that was life. That was just how life went sometimes, and Cora had held Signy up through all of it, and like hell was that kindness not going to be returned. It wasn’t a favor. It was simply what was right. “Can you get into her phone?” Signy asked.

“I tried,” Cora said, “but I can’t. I think I know her computer password, but I—I’m in a fucking service hallway, I can’t—”

The part of Signy that had done nothing recently but solve problems overrode everything else. “Come to the shop and I’ll call Sam,” she said. “She’ll be able to talk us through it.”

Cora sniffed loudly on the other end. “Why didn’t she tell me?” she said, her voice trembling.

Signy pressed her lips together, an ache spreading through her. She’d never heard Cora sound so small. “I don’t know,” she said. “Come to me and we’ll figure it out.”

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C:\logins\twiiig\desktop\forcora.rd

Please don’t be mad at me. You probably are mad at me and I’m really sorry. I know you won’t understand why I’ve done this but you’ll see, I’ll prove you wrong this time. This time you’ll be the dipshit, ha ha.

I’m going to see you out in space. I know you said rorquals can’t hear the ships that leave from the surface, but I know that’s not true. It’s okay that you couldn’t tell me. I know you’d get in big trouble if you did. But I’m going to wave to you and Colibri, and when she hears my ship you will know it is me. Then maybe you’ll understand.

The people I’m going with really know their stuff. I know you’re probably worried but trust me, these guys are legit. They have so much equipment and they’re really good at math. They’ve done computer models and everything. They really know what they’re doing. If you go to the folder that’s called travel plans you can see everything they’ve been working on. And I’m not just a passenger, I’m on the crew! Right now I’m a flight tech, which basically means I just do whatever somebody tells me to do, but you probably know that. I’m thinking maybe I can eventually become a mechanic or a medic but I haven’t decided yet. I lied when I said it pays good because it doesn’t actually pay anything but I was telling the truth when I said it’s a good job. I get to be part of something actually good for once.

This isn’t goodbye forever. I’m going to see you again out there. We’re going to get to the Mothership. Everybody on Fortune will see that it’s possible and we’ll all get out of this shitshow together. But I miss you SO MUCH already. I don’t have anything I can give you, and I really wish I could. I think you get my savings account because we’re family but there isn’t anything in there. You can sell my computer and my phone, if you want. I’m sorry I can’t pay you all the way back for all the times you helped me, but we’re not going to need money out there anyway.

I love you, sis. You are the best one in the whole house. See you soon.

Chapter 49 Cora, Fortune

That’s unacceptable,” Cora spat. It wasn’t a good idea, generally, to mouth off at cops, but right then, she couldn’t care less. “That is fuck all.”

The cop—Officer What’s-His-Nuts, she couldn’t remember—sighed from behind his desk. “Ma’am, would you please sit—”

“No, I’m not gonna fucking sit down,” she said. “I’m not gonna fucking sit down until you send someone out there to bring my sister home.”

“That is not something we can do,” he said. He had the face of someone who ironed his underwear and thought two shakes of hot sauce was a wild ride. “There are no restrictions on leaving the Berth, and therefore, there’s no legal reason for us to go after her.”

“What about a moral reason?” Cora said. “I get that she and her buddies have done something incredibly stupid, but they’re gonna die out there. Do you not care about that?”

“I care,” said the cop, testily. “But we do not send rescue teams outside of the Berth. You’re a pilot, you know that. And you know why.”

Cora paced behind the shitty plastic chairs set out for people like her. Yeah, she did know why. Rescue teams didn’t get sent outside of the Berth because the rescue team would just need rescuing in turn. If a ship crashed down, there was no recovering the bodies, or the cargo. Even ice was left to evaporate out there. Cora knew that, and yet, she could not accept it, she could not roll over. “Okay, but what about—” She pointed at the cop’s desk monitor, filled with the files she’d pulled from Twig’s computer. Manifestos, group chats, schematics for spacecraft that one hundred percent would not work. (Cora had known Twig was too chummy with these people, but christ, she hadn’t realized she’d gone this far off the deep end.) “Those schematics aren’t legal, right? Can’t you do something with that?”

The irony of trying to sic cops on these fuckwits while having spent these past weeks consoling Signy as she tried to avoid them was not lost on Cora. She could untangle just how much of a hypocrite she was later. For now, the only thing that mattered was getting Twig back. Cora didn’t particularly care how that got done.

Officer Unflavored Porridge Powder sighed as he eyed the files. “If the people who made these returned to the Berth, yes, they could be prosecuted for some of this. The plans themselves might be a wobbly case, but improper resource use, certainly. But—Ms. Marten, would you please sit down?”

Cora sat with a petulance Twig would’ve approved of. “I don’t care what it takes, I want her back,” she said. “She’s a good kid. She’s just—lost. She’s always been a little lost, and—and looking for something. I have to find her. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“Ms. Marten, you might have to face the possibility that there is nothing left to be done.” The cop spoke in a reasonable tone that made Cora want to kick his teeth in. “Judging by what you’ve told us and by our examinations of her telecommunications records, she most likely left the Berth three weeks ago.” He said nothing further, because he didn’t have to. The math was obvious. Three days on the surface would be hard, even if you had great gear. Three weeks was . . .

No. No, no, no. Cora shook her head. “Who can I talk to about what goes on out at Sucker’s Luck? There must be somebody who monitors—monitors launches.” Attempted launches, she almost said. “And there must be some kind of shelter out there, it’s not like you can build a fucking rocket in three weeks.”

“Uh, well, we don’t monitor launches of any type, but I believe the university does,” he said. “You might actually have a quicker time of getting in touch with the right person than I would, I think they’re part of the Orbital Traffic Center—”

Oh. Shit. Yes, Cora did have an in there, maybe. Not directly, but she knew who would know. Fucking finally, something she could do. Cora jumped back out of the chair she’d barely occupied. “Great,” she said. “Okay, great, I can—yes. Okay, thank you.”

“Wait, before you—” the cop began to say.