The ship connected, and the oxygen stabilized. Clo grabbed a few weapons—a Mors, a few blades, and Eris’s ridiculous antique—and hurried down Asteria’s ramp.

The loading bay was quiet. On any ship this size, there would normally be officers performing the excruciatingly dull task of making sure that any area of the ship that could be docked was under constant watch. Piracy was rare since the Oracle’s search mechanisms were perfected, but Clo had expected someone to be there.

No one. Not even Eris.

Clo held up her Mors and edged through the metal containers. She didn’t relish the thought of killing, and hadn’t pulled a weapon on anyone since that disastrous mission with Eris. Being planetside after losing her leg, she’d started to wonder if she’d gone soft. The idea of shooting someone had never sat well with her. She wasn’t like Eris. Clo had heard the stories, seen the shrouded bodies carried out of the ships Eris commandeered and brought back. Someone else cleaned up the blood before Clo got her hands on the engines.

Eris must have used the last of the power supply in this sector to open the loading bay and close it after her. The interior door remained firmly shut. Clo was forced to return to the ship, grab a powered wedge, and pry it open until she could wiggle through.

The corridors looked so familiar, just like all the other stolen ships she’d seen at Nova. The workers at headquarters spent long hours removing the ornate frescoes of Tholosian conquests and replacing them with scenes of freedom. Clo’s gaze caught on a mosaic of a soldier holding aloft the head of a conquered alien, its decapitated body sprawled beneath. She didn’t recognize the species—gray and fearsome, with tentacles sprouting from their heads and the backs of their arms. A gorgon like the ancient myths, now permanently destroyed by greed for a fertile planet. Clo turned from the scene of death to pass so many others.

She rounded another corner and froze. Oh.

Five guards dead on the ground, each with a single shot to the head. A laser-burned bullet hole of a third eye. Whoever had done this had been quick, skilled. These soldiers hadn’t even reached for their own weapons. Eris? Or someone else?

“Clo.” A whispered breath of a voice made her look up. Eris. The princess barely glanced at the guards. “You all right?”

Clo gave a jerky nod and passed Eris her gun and holster. “Did you find anything?”

“You mean aside from the dozens of corpses littering the hallways?” At Clo’s hesitation, Eris’s gaze hardened. “These aren’t my deaths.”

Clo’s pulse sped. “Then whose are they?”

“I don’t know yet. I think someone is commandeering the ship.”

“Commandeering the—are you fluming kidding me?”