"It is, actually," Knives replied. "Because you're crew. Both of you."
"And Cypher?" I pressed.
Zoya's expression hardened. "He's our captain. But he crossed a line."
"Several lines," Vic added nervously.
"What we'retryingto say," Tor continued, "is that we don't agree with what he did. But we also believe in what we're trying to accomplish here."
"Saving the refugees."
"Yes," Knives nodded. "They're innocent in all this. They need a home."
"And the Genesis Engine is the only way to create one," Vic added.
I sighed, running a hand through my wind-tangled hair. "I know. And I know I'm the only one who can find it."
"We won't force you," Zoya said firmly. "If you want to leave, we'll find a way to get you home."
"Both of you," Knives added, looking at Kora.
Kora straightened, wiping her eyes. "I don't know what I want yet."
"Me neither," I admitted. "I need time to think."
"Take all the time you need," Tor said. "We're not going anywhere."
The irony of his words wasn't lost on me. We were literally stranded in a dead realm with only one ship. But I appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.
"In the meantime," Knives said, a dangerous gleam in her eye, "perhaps our dear captain needs a reminder about the consequences of betraying the crew."
"Knives," Zoya warned, though without much conviction.
"What? I'm just suggesting a conversation. With my fists."
Despite everything, I found myself smiling slightly. "I appreciate the offer, but I need to handle this my own way."
They respected that, offering support without pushing further. As they dispersed to their duties, Kora remained at my side.
"What are you going to do?" she asked quietly.
I looked out at the frozen wasteland again. "I don't know yet. But whatever I decide, we decide together, okay? You and me."
She nodded, squeezing my hand. "Just like the fire incident."
I cut my eyes at her. "We agreed never to talk about the fire incident."
I avoidedCypher for the next three days, which wasn't difficult on a ship where everyone was actively helping me do so. The crew ran interference, ensuring we were never alone together. Meals were tense when he was present, which became increasingly rare as he came to realize his presence was unwelcome.
On the fourth day, I found myself in Vic's workshop, helping him organize his chaotic collection of notes and instruments.The busy work kept my mind occupied, preventing it from spiraling into darker thoughts.
"Pass me that calibrator, would you?" Vic asked, gesturing vaguely toward a pile of brass instruments.
I sorted through them, eventually finding what I assumed was a calibrator—a device with several dials and a small crystal at its center. "This?"
"Yes, perfect." He took it, immediately becoming absorbed in adjusting its settings.
I watched him work, fascinated. "What exactly are you doing?"
