Maya

The words hung in the sterile air of the bridge, barely louder than the hum of the cooling lines.

Harper froze.

Her hands stayed locked on the mop handle with her knuckles going so white that the freckles stood out on them like dark flecks on chalk and a violent spike of fury flared behind her grey-blue eyes as her shoulders drew up rigid while her teeth clicked together.

CREAK!

The handle groaned under her grip.

For two seconds Harper looked like she was about to raise the mop and drive the wet filthy head straight into Elena's face. 

Elena, of all people… The girl who'd sneered at their food and mocked every weld seam on the ship, who'd stood on this dais and thrown his little sister in his face like a handful of burning salt and called him an illiterate stray... while his sister was ashes under a collapsed town on a world impossibly far behind them.