A loud thump echoed through the ship from somewhere in the crew section of the ship. Ian quirked an eyebrow up not bothering to straighten from slumping in the pilot’s chair. Not even when the string of expletives followed the sound. That thump had resembled Alex hitting a bulkhead and not equipment crashing or glitching. She’d be along quick enough. Boots thumping on the plate deck sounded before he’d finished the thought. Tucking his hands behind his head, Ian slouched further into his seat.

Mother grabbed the pad from my hands, tucking graying strands behind her ear. “No, Widre. They failed, and we’re left to pick up the pieces.”