Ariadne fiddled with some of the controls, much to Clo’s annoyance. She was the bogging pilot here. “There’s no other use for this planet than hiding something. Here, go this way.”

She showed Clo a map on the screen and locked on to the location.

Clo followed the signal. They were all silent as they passed over floating islands. Some had buildings already falling to ruin, crumbling in the moist atmosphere. The paths and roads were overgrown, foliage reclaiming the dark ribbons.

The abandoned buildings were unsettling, a ghost town. Even Rhea seemed more subdued. This place already felt haunted and they hadn’t even set foot on land yet.

“Why did everyone leave?” Clo asked Ariadne.

“The records are unclear. When I ran the search through the Oracle’s files, they said mining was unsustainable.” Ariadne tapped a few buttons on her tablet, frowning. “It looks like the biggest mine was going to be at the ground level. The rock is hard, but they were developing machinery to do the job. Lots of raw material was completely untapped, but they just . . . stopped. They left everything.”

A shiver ran through Clo. Something felt off. People didn’t just abandon valuable materials like that, not without good reason. They were programmed to do the job, no questions asked. And no one had come to finish the job.

“How many people are we talking about?”

“At its height? Not many. Maybe thirty thousand.”

They set down and the ship landed with a soft whoosh. Clo’s breathing grew ragged, and yet again, she lost the contents of her stomach—this time in a vomit bag Ariadne had helpfully provided for landing. From the sounds of the retching in the bullet craft, she wasn’t the only one.

“Should have aimed for your boots again,” Clo told an unaffected Eris, who smirked. “Got any breath neutralizers?”

Eris passed them to Clo and the others, who all swallowed gratefully. Leaning back in her captain’s chair, Clo took the tablet from Ariadne and pinged Sher. After a muted beep, his face appeared. Clo wished she could reach through the screen and give Sher a hug. He would smell like sand and metal and home.

She missed Nova—she even missed the blasted heat. She missed tinkering with engines and swapping jokes with Elva. She missed sending the craft off on their missions. She was ready to go home and leave the adventuring to others for a while.

“Hey, Alesca,” Sher said. “I’ve missed that angry mug.”

It was night on Nova. His dark green eyes looked black in the low light of his office. He had a room in the barracks, but he spent most nights working until he fell asleep on a cot set up in the corner. Even half a galaxy away, his eyes could see into the very core of a person.

“Shut up, marsh-hole,” she said.