The nose of the Bern ship broke the boundary between the two galaxies, and then the cockpit did the same. The walls of gold were suddenly replaced with tar-black space salted with an unfamiliar constellations of stars.

Before Anlyn knew it, she and Edison were out among them. The Keep was gone, and their massive warship immediately felt like a tiny speck drifting into the dark—piercing the vast and wild unknown.

9

Molly exited the cockpit preparing to scold Walter, but instead found three strangers stomping into her cargo bay: a human and two Callites. All three of them were enormous, and all three wore coveralls splattered with a purplish paint. Plumes of dust trailed them from outside, the kicked-up fog swirling around their feet.

“Excuse me—?” Molly was barely able to begin her question before choking on the nauseating reek of the figures. A foul gaseous cloud had entered with them—the smell of alcohol and sweat and something rotten. Molly nearly gagged as the human strolled up, appraising the interior of her ship with a smirk.

“Mortimor?” the man yelled. “You in here, you old bastard?” He looked over at Molly and smiled, as if they were all awaiting some gruff reply from her father.

None came, of course. Molly blinked the tears out of her eyes and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. “Can I help you?” she managed.

One of the big Callites plopped down in Edison’s wide crew seat, his brown skin webbed with the outline of interlocking scales. The small plates gave their kind a reptilian look, despite the long, flowing hair most sported. And while the majority of aliens in the galaxy looked roughly humanoid, Callites took the similarities to another level. Human kids who painted themselves up as Callites for Halloween were almost  indistinguishable from the real thing. The overall likeness didn’t help the local tensions between them and Humans, of course. Differences in skin texture seemed to be quite enough for most people. If anything, the many other traits they had in common just made cohabitation more difficult.

While one Callite got comfortable in Edison’s chair—his body sagging with obvious weariness—the other large male crossed over to the tool bench and picked up a power driver.

“Hey, don’t touch that!” Molly said.

“It’s okay,” the Human said, walking over to her. “We’re old friends of . . .” he looked pointedly at Molly’s ring finger, which was helping shield her mouth and nose from the stench, “. . . your boyfriend?”

“My boyfr—? You mean my father? And he’s not—hey, seriously, don’t touch that!” Molly stepped toward the guy inspecting her tools, but the Human grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around.

“Mollie? Mollie Fyde?” He whistled, looking her up and down. “Drenards in hyperspace, is that you? My goodness, you’ve grown up. And out!” He stared directly at her chest. The massive beast in Edison’s seat looked at her as if to confirm the observation, and then started toying with the flight harness.