We reach Belvun at the end of ten days, and the moment I see it, I know one thing: Undil will never be as grand a sight as Belvun. This is the planet from many of Father’s stories, a planet I’ve seen only in pictures and dreams. From above, mountains are discolored ripples and rivers are thin lines. Lakes are dark, lumpy circles. Clouds swirl through the skies surface, their shadows protecting the land from the sun’s glare—a luxury Undil doesn’t have.

And the forests… Forests the color of a late-evening sunset soften the surface, stretching over the horizons, seamless except in the places where lakes and rivers and mountains intervene. Yet somewhere beyond those horizons, the desert sucks the beauty from Belvun. Cities have been ravaged, fields have been burnt, and forests haven been scorched.

It’s midmorning. A Belvish Official contacted Orcher twenty minutes ago to register our landing slots, and the Ember’s Bridge has been a madhouse ever since. Charts flash on the walls, Officials shout orders to officers, and data orbs zoom through the air. Amid all the commotion, a voice finally comes through the intercoms.

“General Orcher, please report.”

Orcher taps an icon on his desk screen to open the communication line. “Go for Orcher.”

“The Ember has been cleared to deploy transports, with the Drake following. Your other stations will deploy in one hour.”

“Thank you. Departure commencing.”

Lines of people exit the Bridge, and Glacia joins me and Orcher when we pass Station Control. The halls are crowded to capacity, but we shove into an elevator and ride it to Floor 3. On board the transport, Glacia and I strap into the passenger chamber seats, and Orcher moves into the cockpit. It isn’t long before we feel the rumble of the engines. The thrusters ignite, the transport sways. Moments later, the hangar gate opens. Only a translucent plasma barrier seals the hangar now, through which our transports exit three-by-three.

A silvery light slides over the windows—the plasma barrier—and then we drift into darkness. Shortly after, we leave the influence of the Ember’s gravity simulators. I can tell, because Glacia’s hair springs outward like it did when we first flew into space as we left Undil.

Once we’re clear of the Ember, the transport surges forward. Other transports fly at our sides, and the faces of other men and women peer back at me. The Ember shrinks away, we arc to the left, and Belvun comes into full view of the windows. Its size blows me away. Even from this distance, I can tell Undil might be about three-quarters this size. The surface takes shape the closer we fly. Shadows slip between mountain peaks, ripples appear on the lakes, and forests become fuzzy. To the west, a dark shadow runs from north to south, where night still claims its hold.