“The Little Prince,” I say, reading the title aloud. It’s such a small book that the huge manual hid it completely. Could this be another hint from Orion? One page is dog-eared, and I turn to it. The colors are faded, but it’s still possible to decipher the illustration in front of me: a giant king dressed in a robe embroidered with stars sits atop a tiny planet.

Below the illustration, a line of text is circled and recircled, over and over.

“I,” replied the little prince, “do not like to condemn anyone to death.”

“Well, that’s ominous,” I mutter. The text reminds me of the threat I made last night. Clearly the little prince never met someone like Luthor. I glance up at Elder. I should tell him. But . . . now is not the time.

I lift up a folded piece of paper that’s been slipped inside the book. My hands shake as I unfold it—I recognize the feel of this paper, thick and glossy.

Sonnet XXX, the clue that was lost. Or stolen.

The text on this page is riddled with lines and a note. “Look at this,” I say, turning to Elder.

Whatever interest Elder had in discovering the next clue is now gone. His entire attention is focused on the space suits. I grin at him; he looks like a kid who’s been told he can get whatever flavor of ice cream he wants from the shop.

I carefully tuck the ripped page into my pocket and turn to the operating manual. It’s obvious Elder couldn’t care less about old books and hidden clues while we’re looking at space suits.

“There are two kinds of suits—one for extended exposure and one for moderate exposure. The brown ones are smaller and easier to use, but you’re only supposed to use them for about two hours or less.”

“That’s fine,” Elder says, going to the cubbyholes. He picks up a body suit, and it’s not so much brown, as in the picture, but bronze. It sparkles in the dim light of the room, and when he shakes it out, dust mingles with glitter.

“The moderate suits have an underlayer of protection against outside elements and hazardous temperatures,” I continue. “Then you put on the outer suit over that, for insulation and more protection. The outer suit seems to just snap on, then you connect gloves and boots over that. This looks crazy simple,” I say. “I thought a space suit would be really complex.”

“The other ones, the ones for long exposure, do look more complicated. But if Orion’s right and the problem is obvious, I should only need the short-exposure suit,” Elder says. “A little help?”

He’s already discarded his own clothes—they lie in a heap on the floor—and he’s zipped himself into the bronze underlayer.

“Uh—no. No,” I say, striding over to him.

“What?” he asks.