“Not to be told what to do for a change,” Skits shot back in her electronic whine. “Plus, there’s sand out there. It’s going to get into my chassis and chafe my gears. Do you know how irritating that is?”

“I had a rock in my shoe once,” Leo said.

“Cry me a freaking river. Maybe come talk to me when you’ve had a laser blast up your butt.”

Boo snorted, tearing off another chunk of his unfortunately named bread with his sharp teeth. “Yes. I imagine that would hurt.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Baz interrupted. “I need everyone sharp. We don’t know who this Zirkus Crayt is or where to find him, which means we’re going to have to be nosy, which means we’re going to end up drawing attention to ourselves. And as much as I love attention, we need to try to stay inconspicuous.”

Leo looked over the crew of the Icarus. The seven-foot-tall alien dressed in his robe. The robot with the stickers plastered all over her soon-to-be-irritated chassis. The girl with the bionic arm and the sour expression. The captain missing half an ear. How could they not stand out?

“Besides, if Dr. Fender wants us to find this guy, that could mean others are looking for him too. Not to mention all the people out there looking for us.” He locked eyes with Leo for a moment. “So keep your eyes peeled.”

“That also sounds painful,” Boo remarked. “Why would anyone want to peel their eyes?”

Leo followed the band of pirates through the narrow corridors of the Icarus to the boarding ramp, well aware that his last couple of planetary excursions hadn’t ended well. But he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter: his father had entrusted him to deliver the information on that chip, and he was determined to see that it happened. Besides, the sooner he did, the sooner he could start looking for his brother.

He stepped off the ramp and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t the atmosphere. Kat had confirmed it was hospitable, a mostly compatible mix of nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon dioxide, though quite a bit drier than what he was used to on Earth. It wasn’t because of the heat either—though that did take him by surprise, having spent so much of his last three years in cold metal ships floating in cold empty space, wearing socks to keep his toes from freezing.

It was what Leo saw that took his breath away.

Downtown Los Angeles.

Toronto and Chicago.

Shanghai and Sydney. New Delhi and Berlin.

He saw them in the aftermath. Once the fires had been smothered and the smoke had cleared, leaving buildings reduced to cinder blocks. Mountains of melted steel, blackened and burned-out cars, streets scattered with ash.

That’s what he was looking at now. Sort of.

Leo stared at the village before him with its broken streets and crumpled buildings. He felt the terrible squeeze coming, the lasso pulled tight around his chest. He patted his pants pocket for his inhaler just as a reassuring hand appeared on his shoulder.