I give the box a hearty shove, intending to send it toppling into Shey’s lap. Instead, it flies right off the edge of the table and clatters to the floor, where the improperly closed pressure locks hiss open. I swear, take a step toward the fallen contraband, and freeze with one arm outstretched as the door leading to the lobby slams upward. I drop my hand to my side and step back.

The woman in the doorway is tall and uniformed in all white, with straight eyebrows and lips pressed into a thin line. It takes me a moment to place her face, and as soon as I do, I take another step back, eyes darting around to find an escape that isn’t here. This is the officer who apprehended Fortuna and took my mother. The head of security of the Gaian president herself—the same president who’s the mother of the woman I just sold an extremely illegal flora to.

“Yvette,” Shey gasps, her eyes going very wide with recognition. “What… what in the world are you doing here? Did you follow me?” She sounds affronted at first. A moment later, the gravity of the situation seems to hit her, and her eyes fill with tears. “I… I…”

But the officer isn’t looking at her. She’s looking right past the woman she’s apparently here to collect, and staring at me instead. I meet her gaze and know in an instant that she recognizes me, and how very, very bad that is. I force a weak smile, and the woman stands up straighter and raises her chin.

“Well, if it isn’t the space-born Kaiser,” says Yvette Zinne.

“Shit,” I say.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Belly of the Beast

Corvus

My team gathers in the ground-floor hangar to prepare for our mission. Our five armored exosuits are lined up against the wall. Even unmanned, they look like towering metal soldiers awaiting orders. The durable four-legged spider tank we drove from Fort Sketa rests on the other side of the room.

Considering how close we’ll be to the border, and all the mystery around this power source we’re retrieving, I’m especially grateful for the equipment. I can’t seem to shake off Altair’s words. “This is the sign we’ve been waiting for,” he said. But a sign of what, exactly? What will we find buried beneath the ice? The questions keep rolling through my head, though I don’t dare show any sign of hesitation as I explain the basics of the mission to my team. They’re already geared up in their heavy gray-and-white uniforms, thick layers of waterproof thermal clothing covering them from chin to ankle. Sturdy snow boots, their soles designed to grip the ice, cover their feet. Their cloth masks and goggles are slung casually around their necks.