► Captain Jason Roberts of the Bellerophon looked over the status displays arrayed around his station with a stony expression his crew had long since gotten used to. The former Army ranger had enjoyed something of a legendary reputation among the recruits he’d acquired both when the Bell was first launched and when they picked up new crew from Earth after the invasion had been dealt with.

The mix of Priminae and Terran crew had left him with some difficulties as he tried to establish his own command style. Adding Block specialists to the mix also hadn’t done him any favors.

That said, Jason liked to think that he’d done well. His Bellerophon was one of the Heroics, and he’d put his crew against any of their peers—even the flag itself.

“Imagery from 452b is coming in, sir,” his first officer, Commander Michael Shriver, said, gesturing toward the secondary display over the navigation station. “Not looking like much.”

“No, it isn’t,” Roberts agreed. “Our trip here was a long shot.”

“I know, but I figured with the Weston luck at play and all . . .” Shriver shrugged with an amused chuckle.

“Luck is purely chance in my experience. In the end, fortune will always balance out,” Roberts told him flatly. “So don’t count on good luck helping us.”

“No sir, I won’t,” Shriver said, eyes narrowing as he looked at the imagery again. “Huh. Well, I guess that seals that deal.”

“What is it?” Roberts asked, turning his focus back to the issue at hand.

“Hyperspectral data shows the world is dead.” Shriver pointed.

Roberts nodded as he read the data himself. Hyperspectral cameras read the spread of light as it passed through, or reflected off, an object—in this case, the planet’s atmosphere. By analyzing the frequencies of light absorbed in the process of transmission, the cameras could determine what chemicals were present in the atmosphere, because some elements naturally absorbed more of certain wavelengths than others.

452b had no complex organic chemicals to speak of and almost no oxygen.

Dead world.

“Well, this is a bust, but we have other leads,” Roberts said after a moment’s reflection.

“Yes sir,” Shriver agreed, but barely got the words out before an insistent alarm sounded from the computers. “Now what—well, look at that.”

Roberts glanced over his shoulder, then back at the large screen. “Is that pure titanium in orbit?”

“It is. Resolution isn’t high enough to pick it out visually yet, but I don’t think that’s natural.”

“Who puts . . . It’s not a station, is it?” he asked, trying to make heads or tails of the readings.

“No sir, certainly not. Too small. This looks like a debris field,” Shriver said. “I’m going to have to bump this to Commander Heath on the Odysseus, sir. It’s over my head.”