“Drom,” I call back once my stomach is under control, and beckon with one hand. She nearly trips over the cargo in her rush forward to take the wheel. I pat her on the back and squeeze myself onto the craft’s floor between two crates. Lyre peers down at me with her ever-present frown, so reminiscent of our mother.

“Right,” she says. “Almost forgot our fearless leader is still drunk.”

I yawn instead of arguing and pull my scarf up to cover more of my face.

“Wake me when we get there,” I mumble.

As I doze off, the shuddery movement of the hovercraft brings me back to the gentle rock of a hoverboat, and I sink into a half dream, half memory of Nibiru.

It was the day Momma was supposed to come home from a business trip to Gaia, but it was always a toss-up whether or not she’d arrive on time. So, Corvus decided we’d all spend the day together fishing on a hoverboat borrowed from our neighbors. The twins soon grew bored of it and began whining about wanting to see Momma. Corvus was trying to teach Lyre how to fish. She was always so eager to be his little assistant, but she was distracted by the twins, infected by their souring mood.

“She’ll be here soon,” Corvus said, already struggling to handle the fishing pole and Lyre, a nervous set to his jaw. We were nearly out of funds and any food other than dried algae.

“You two better be quiet before the akkorokamui hears you,” I said, stretched out on my back on the floor of the boat.

“The what?” Pol asked, his forehead crinkling with worry.

“What, you haven’t heard of it?” The twins shook their heads at me, Pol already sitting up and eager for a story while Drom was more interested in picking her nose. “Really? Never?” I flipped onto my stomach and crawled toward them. “The fisherfolk only dare speak of it in whispers, in case it overhears…” Both twins leaned forward as my voice dropped. “It lives underneath the waves, with eyes bigger than our boat and eight tentacles big enough to wrap around Vil Hava.” I raised both arms and wiggled them, snaking closer. “And when it gets hungry, its favorite treat is… noisy little children!” I lurched forward to tickle them, sending both twins into shrieking fits of laughter.

“That’s stupid. There’s no such thing,” Lyre said from the back of the boat, six years old and already mastering her face of disapproval. I glanced at her, dropping my hands, as she tugged on Corvus’s sleeve in search of support. “Right?”

“Don’t know,” Corvus said, focused on fishing. But when he caught her disappointed look, he ruffled her hair and added, “You’ll have to look it up in the digital library and report back to me.”