Clo scanned the planet Ismara again, hoping the details Zelus’s mainframe gave her would come up differently.

The screen beeped, and Clo scrolled through the details.

Nothing out of the ordinary. No extra military craft.

Two and a half weeks until the Tholosian-Evoli truce, and they still had no idea what the Empire had hidden on Ismara, why they had gone through such complicated measures to make sure no one knew ichor existed or how the rock would be weaponized.

“Fucking bog-all,” Clo told the others as she flicked her finger across the screen.

The other women were seated behind her in the command center, watching the slow approach to Ismara. Rhea and Ariadne seemed entranced by the sight, and Clo was once again reminded that neither had left their respective cages on Tholos. The entire galaxy was so new to them, that it made Clo reevaluate everything she saw.

Ismara wasn’t far off the path Clo took to run supplies to Nova. From space, the abandoned planet was a smear of blue and purple, much smaller than the Sisters, Myndalia, or Sennett. They passed through the two moons, readying to enter the atmosphere.

Ismara was still a beautiful planet, in parts, but Zelus’s scan claimed much of it had been destroyed by mining. It had been abandoned for nearly a century, and pockets of growth were only now returning. One day, Tholosians would drain this planet to the dregs again. That was the way of the Empire: find planets that were resource-rich, eliminate all intelligent life that might be a threat, use up everything the planet had to offer for the Empire’s vast citizenry, and then abandon it until it was ready to plunder anew.

Rinse, repeat.

“We don’t know that yet,” Ariadne replied, peering over Clo’s shoulder as she slowly navigated the ship. “The ichor is down there; I’m sure of it.” She gestured to the computers. “The scan is detecting the same endospores that we found on Josephine, so we’ll take some suits and helmets.”

Zelus glided birdlike through the air as they made their way to the main barracks. “Should someone stay behind with the pilot?”

Eris looked annoyed at the reminder of his existence. “He’s locked up in the medical center, cuffed to a bed, and unlikely to do anything strenuous for a few days.”

Nyx’s laugh was dry. The soldier looked like she hadn’t done much sleeping herself. “Understatement. He looks like shit; definitely feels like shit. Deprogramming is rough.”

Clo suppressed a shudder. The sleeping quarters were on the same level as the med center. Even three rooms away, Clo had heard Cato’s screams as the machine detangled programming from natural brain synapse. Rhea had told her that putting a soldier under general anaesthesia during deprogramming was impossible; they had to remain conscious during the whole procedure.