“Little shits.” I turn my back to the monument and fold my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the hairs on the back of my neck standing at full attention. My siblings never fail to find it hilarious that I’m afraid of the Primus and everything they left behind. The twins are enamored with modified Primus weapons—not that we could ever afford such a rarity—and Lyre devours every book she can find on alien theory. None of them, it seems, have ever noticed the way Momma looks at these statues. And I know if my mother is afraid, I better be scared, too.

“All right,” I say, gesturing to the twins. “You two keep an eye on the cargo while Lyre and I go see the broker.”

I’d feel a lot safer with one of the twins accompanying us, but again there’s the issue with separating them. It’s probably for the best, anyway. The twins are way too big to avoid attention, seeing as they’re both more than a half foot taller than the average man on Gaia. They’re also way too eager for a fight, and Momma’s the one person who can talk them down. Without her, they’re too much of a risk to go traipsing through the city with.

“Keep your weapons hidden and try not to shoot anybody,” I say. “And if you do have to shoot someone, hide the body somewhere clever.”

The twins grin their identical grin, gummy and gap-toothed. I’m not convinced there’s a single clever bone between the two of them, but they’re Kaisers, and Kaisers are nothing if not resourceful.

Lyre and I leave the twins with the cargo and press deeper into the heart of the city, ditching the goggles that mark us as clear off-worlders. It’s early enough that the streets are empty. While some of the other planets have looser concepts of time, Gaia sticks to a strict daily schedule.

Levian is laid out in a straightforward grid of streets that make up clearly designated districts. The buildings differ slightly from district to district but altogether are annoyingly similar to one another. Each district has at least one billboard or poster of President Leonis, giving the impression that she’s always watching with her dark, sharp eyes. While political ads on other planets usually feature smiling, charismatic leaders, Leonis is stoic and imposing with her graying hair pulled back from her severe face. She’s the latest in a line of progressively more ruthless Gaian presidents, taking the most extreme measures yet in an effort to combat the planet’s struggles with food and population control.