“And if they won’t listen?” Kat asked.

Baz shrugged. “We’re pirates. Since when do we play by anyone else’s rules? They say no, we’ll do it anyway.” He turned to the bounty hunter. “How about it, Z? You in?”

Zennia looked skeptical, one hand fiddling with the goggles around her neck. “I don’t know, Baz. Wiping out the Earth’s entire supply of four eighty six? Is that really a decision this particular group should be making?”

“Better us than them,” Leo said.

Baz nodded. “You heard the kid. It’s our planet. Not the Aykari’s. Not the Djarik’s. It’s not some military objective, or some giant ventasium dispenser. For most of us it’s the first place we called home.”

Zennia bowed her head. “You always were more trouble than you’re worth.”

“Which is eight thousand pentars, last time I checked,” Baz said. “So does that mean you’re in?”

“Fine,” she said. “But we need a plan. We can’t just jump into Earth’s orbit and expect a handshake and a how-do-you-do. Most of us are wanted fugitives.”

“Hate to admit it, but your crazy ex-girlfriend is right,” Kat agreed. “As soon as they ID the Icarus, we’re in trouble.”

Baz chewed on his lip for a moment. Then the captain’s eyes fell on the transport sitting between the bounty hunter’s fighter and the pirates’ ship. “Maybe they’ll be less apt to attack us if we’re being escorted by an Aykari craft.”

“Maybe,” Kat acknowledged, “except Crayt’s clearly in no shape to pilot that thing.”

“No, but you can,” Baz said. “Trust me, I’ve flown Aykari ships before; they’re not that different from the Icarus. You take Crayt and the boys with you, I’ll take Skits and the top secret weapon with me.”

“It’s not a weapon,” Leo said. “It’s the opposite. . . . An anti-weapon.”

“Fine. I’ll take the anti-weapon. We’ll swap it out for the warhead on the last black widow. That way we can just launch it at a distance and be far enough away in case . . . you know . . .” He looked at Leo and pinched his fingers again.

“I’m taking my own ship,” Zennia insisted.

“Knock yourself out. I hear it smells anyway.”

“It definitely does,” Gareth whispered to Leo.

The captain turned to Boo, who hadn’t said a word since hearing the message, simply stood by, thoughtfully twisting the tips of his horns. “I’ll let you decide who you want to fly with, big guy.”

Leo had only known him for days, but that was long enough that he could read the expression in the Queleti’s large brown eyes.

“I’ve decided, Captain,” Boo said at last, his arms crossed over his Yunkai—his only real possession—stained a dull yellow from dust. They carry their planet home with them, Leo thought. They live close to the ground.

Leo knew what was coming.

“Ever since I left Quel I’ve been searching for something,” Boo continued. “A place. And a purpose. Something about this planet . . . these people . . . They understand, much better than I ever have, what it means to be at peace. I believe that is the thing I’ve been looking for.”