“Hey, watch it,” I tell him, but he doesn’t even look at me. I sigh. Zi Vi is notoriously chaotic and difficult to navigate even without roadblocks like these, so it’ll be damn near impossible to find a way there now. For me, that is. “Lyre, do you know another route?” I was hoping to project some false confidence by taking us there myself, but this place is giving me a headache.

“Of course,” Lyre says with a smile, and leads us there with ease.

The bar, which a neon-blue sign declares THE SALTY BASTARD, looks like an especially good place to get stabbed, even considering we’re on a planet where public dueling is legal. It also has a sign boasting THE CHEAPEST WHISKEY IN ZI VI. I took only a couple swigs of rum to find my courage earlier, intending to stay sober enough to focus on the mission, but I didn’t plan on that. I can practically taste the corn whiskey.

“We’re going to miss the broadcast,” Corvus presses me when I pause.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” No helping it now; hesitating further will make me look weak.

The bar is stuffed with a wild assortment of patrons, all wearing the same over-the-top cosmetics and clothing we’ve put on ourselves. Despite the general reek of spilled liquor, Sanita smoke, and piss, not to mention the sorry state of the furniture, the place contains no fewer than three huge screens playing the broadcast. One especially rowdy table seems to have turned it into a drinking game, though most of the crowd is watching with a seriousness that doesn’t fit the locale.

I push through the crowd toward the closest screen, my siblings close on my heels. The sight of Leonis standing with her hands folded behind her back and an expression of polite solemnity makes me grit my teeth in anger. Beside her stand two reps from among the seven who make up the Nibiran Council, both wearing the planet’s colorful, floor-sweeping robes. Ennia Heikki, a bronze-toned, matronly woman with a head of wild silver curls, is the oldest of their council; Iri Oshiro, fair-skinned and agender with long, straight black hair, is the youngest. The Paxians have sent a lean, middle-aged woman with a rich brown complexion, who the screen identifies as Representative Silvania Azenari. I’m not sure who she is, given that Pax has no formal leader. When she turns to the side, I shudder at the electronic device implanted in the back of her head. Wires extend down beneath the back of her black suit. I guess even Pax’s elite are into those crazy modifications of theirs.

The council is only waiting on Jai Misha, the Devan prime minister, who is now ten minutes late to a meeting on his own planet.

“Misha’s still in office?” Corvus asks, surprised. Devan politicians aren’t known for their longevity. “People must love him.”