As my superior’s face disappears, I’m left staring at the still-spinning hologram above my table. A classified retrieval mission so close to the border… an alien power source buried beneath the ice… and so many questions, unasked and unanswered.

How convenient that Altair chose a team headed by me, an off-worlder with fewer qualms about the Primus than most, to keep watch at this remote outpost. I knew there had to be a reason for us to be here, and I suspect there is more to this mission than Altair is letting on. Thinking back to the hunger in his eyes when I told him what we saw, I’m absolutely certain of it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Friends in Low Places

Scorpia

I walk briskly, with my head up and my eyes forward, like I have somewhere legitimate to be. It’s enough to keep the law-enforcers from bothering me. The streets are mostly unoccupied this early in the day, when everyone’s just begun to work. I’m sure the approaching storm crackling overhead doesn’t make anyone eager to be outside, either. The only people I pass are a few cleaners washing the streets after the morning rush and some enforcers on patrol.

I’ve always hated Levian, with its overly organized layout and blocky, near-identical buildings in neat little rows. The streets are too clean, not a single person or piece of trash out of place. Everywhere I look there are clocks, maps, and signs designating buildings or districts. The whole city is like an overly friendly neighbor trying way too hard to be helpful. It’s especially shocking after Deva, where time has little meaning and the crisscrossing walkways seem to be thrown together at random. I love the playful chaos of Deva; on Gaia, I’m always tempted to break something just for a moment free from monotony. Growing up here was a nightmare. Being here now, when the streets remind me of playing tag with Corvus in the empty hours after Last Bell, is even worse.

Trying to shake off the memories, I pass from the heart of the city to the Turill district. It’s an older area on the outskirts of the city, one that most people have moved away from as the city expanded south, infringing on areas that used to be reserved for arriving ships and related businesses. Turill is still clean and organized, but the buildings are more worn down and dated, muted and monochrome rather than shiny and metallic. I pass by quiet residential areas and cafés, clothing shops that have fallen behind on trends, and outdated game lounges. There’s even a very old and empty-looking building whose sign declares it CHURCH OF THE FIRST DIVINITY. I eye it, wondering if it’s dedicated to an ancient Earth-based religion or to Gaia’s creepier sect of Primus worshippers, but it’s hard to tell from the building’s understated appearance.