We all watch in silence as he lifts his remaining human hand and flexes his fingers. Then he lifts his new, artificial right hand, the metal still uncovered because of Gaynemade's poor medical system- and, no doubt, the Shippings' own poverty.

Rosie clears her throat. "When we get to earth, we can make it look like you were never in the bombing-"

The boy doesn't seem to hear her, though, as he throws off his blanket and takes stock of what parts of his body that he was born was is still with him.

Then he looks up at Rosie, tears flashing in his eyes. "But it won't undo the fact that I'm a cyborg! It will only make me more of one-"

"You're still my son," Reverend Shipping counters. "And we're going to get you safe and help you get as recovered as possible.."

Silas Shipping pulls away and glares at his father. "Where's Mom? She would never have let this happen to me."

Reverend Shipping steps back, heartbreak twisting on his face. "Your mother... She took the brunt of the blow. To try and save you from the worst."

Nicholas slowly backs out of the room before turning around and fleeing.

Rosie follows his gaze wistfully before turning back to the Shippings, watching what is unfolding before us like a Jupiter storm.

Silas Shipping stares in horror at his father. "Mom?"

Reverend Shipping bows his head and takes his son's hand in his. "She's in a better place, son. Far away from pain and gangsters and the void of space-"

The younger Shipping yanks away from his father, rage replacing the horror. "Stop it with the stupid euphemisms! She's dead and you let her die! She's dead and I should have been dead instead!"

His father is undeterred, and moves closer to his son. "Everything is under God's control. He took her from the pain, and left you the gift of life-"

"He left me a cyborg and not even enough of her to make her again!"

Rosie turns to me and mouths, 'He's going to hurt himself.'

I nod, understanding what she's requesting, and turn on the ship's flow of Orion's favorite sleeping drug in liquid form to flow straight into the younger Shipping's veins.

But it hasn't hit his blood-flow yet, and he keeps flailing wildly. "You killed her!"

At this, Reverend Shipping's composure finally falters, a shadow of pain flitting across his face.

"And then you killed her again!" Silas adds.

Reverend Shipping reclaims control of his visage, and then grasps his son's hands to press him down into the bed, effectively restraining him.

"I would never hurt your mother," he whispers. "And I won't let yourself hurt you."

"But... you... did..." If Silas was going to say more, he doesn't get the chance before his eyes slide shut and his head falls back into his pillow, his entire body going slack.

Rosie sighs in relief.

There is no sense of relief in Shipping's person, however, as he stands up again and tucks the thermal blanket around his son.