I blink into consciousness and am only half-surprised to discover my bed isn't empty. Sometime in the night, Huxley wiggled his way under the covers and commandeered over half the real estate. With his arm over his head and his body contorted like the letter S, his soft snores pull me from an already terrible half-sleep.

Regardless, I'm grateful for whatever force drove him to me. I circle my arms around him and drag his little body into mine.

"Wake up, little star," I say, pushing his dark curls from his eyes. "It's a fresh cycle in a brand-new galaxy."

He groans and rolls over, stuffing his face into the pillow.

"Let's go, Hux," I pat his back through his little pajama shirt. Someone from the textiles department had made him a special set with little trees and birds. I've never seen trees as full as these or birds in these vibrant blues and reds. Parrots, they said. It's these little reminders that the people of the HMS Valediction were taken from the Earth when it was still lush and full of life. It makes me feel like we came from two different planets.

While Hux slowly rises, I rub the sleep from my own eyes and swivel around, placing both feet on the floor. Waking has gotten easier since Nuna left six sleep cycles ago. The lights in the cabin cool from warm yellow to bright white, synthesizing the dawn. The light from the thousands of stars in my window dim in the background.

I study them, realizing I don't recognize their patterns or the way some of the nebulae distort the dark matter twisting around their violent centers. This really is a whole new galaxy.

The screen on my hand tablet blinks to life as an alert appears.

Lace Up. We're doing recon

I don't relish the agenda on reconnaissance shifts as it's mostly sitting around and trying to blend into the new market, but I'm told this one will be different.

"Find what you can," Teeno says when we meet at his penthouse a while later. He steeples his fingers and rests his chin against them, the silver whiskers of his unshaven chin more apparent than ever. It's bizarre to see Teeno with a dirty button or food stuck in his teeth—it's unheard of for him to go more than a few days without shaving.

Moon, Nuna, and I stand stiff at the entrance of his pristine office. I do my best to listen to Teeno's objectives for our stakeout in this newest port of business, but it's taking all my concentration not to see if Nuna is looking back at me.

Her profile is in my peripherals. I can trace the distinct outline of her forehead, nose, lips, and chin. I know the feel of her box braids between my fingers and the heaviness of the beads and gems she interlaces in them. I have already memorized the woman, so the insatiable need to watch her doesn't make sense.

"—Do you think we can manage that, Lorn?"

My name on Teeno's question sends my attention careening to the front of the room. I stare at him for a moment, replaying what pieces of the conversation I had processed.

"... the new supply to the Vesta?" He prompts.

"The supplies are packed and ready to unload. We're on schedule."

Moon grumbles under his breath soft enough for me to hear him on the other side of the room. "It would be nice if at least some of your functional mind was on our objective today."

"Fuck you, I'm fine," I whisper back.

"You have your assignments," Teeno continues, his voice soft and his eyes tired. "I wouldn't have considered a scuffle possible at this particular port, but Coodi's reports indicate they have yet to make a single drop-off without incident in the last hundred cycles. Expect trouble. Do you have your disguises?"

Nuna and I nod. Moon scoffs. "I will not wear a costume."

"You are the most recognizable of the lot," Teeno says. He doesn't even have the usual mischief twinkling in his eyes at Moon's stubbornness.

"No one knows about Juno's demise. No one knows we've commandeered her ridiculous mountain of a ship and have banded the two together to be the monopoly of gold trade in six galaxies. Isn't that the more practical disguise?"

In an exasperated sigh, Teeno turns to me. I flip my hood on, the top half of my face obscured by a light, flimsy steel-gray mask. My hair shines purple. The little upturned scar on my chin extends up my cheek toward my right eye which glows purple to match my hair. "Ready."

Nuna flips her hood up, her face contorted by shadows and her eyes sparking an electric green to match the braids cascading over her shoulder.

This feels familiar. No matter how far time takes me from those days in the URE dressing room before bursting out into the Topside night—I will always enjoy the thrill that comes with preparing for engagement. Costume or combat gear, it's all the same these days.

We exit his office but pause at the door when he calls out.

"Good luck! Be safe. And for the love of Christ," Teeno rubs his tired eyes. "Don't get yourselves killed."

"Right, Boss." I salute him as we squeeze into the elevator together toward the ports. My levity sinks below my boots when all three of us scrunch together in the awkward, tiny space.

Get in, get out, and report back. This is your job. Behave.

I repeat the orders to myself as we descend to the bottom of the ship. Hux meets us there with John and his tutor-slash-nanny. He wraps his arm around Nuna and hugs her goodbye then turns to me. I lift him, squeeze him tight, and place him back on his feet.

"We'll be right back," I say, brushing his wild curls out of his eyes again. They're getting so long. He's growing so fast.

"Okay," he says. He looks at the ground and sniffles.

"I will watch after your mother," Nuna says, kneeling at my side as she places a hand on his shoulder. "I will always keep her safe for you."

My heart swells. I meet her gaze. "And don't worry Kiddo. I've got Nuna's six. We'll be back soon, sweetheart."

Moon's drop ship purrs to life, and we say our final farewell before boarding. John slips in just as the port shuts behind us. I follow his progress through the ship until he finds his favorite spot above Moon's head. Moon tightens his grip on the steering rig, smoke rising from the rim of his glove.

Nuna touches my shoulder as she takes her co-pilot's seat. Despite knowing every inch of her, she's unrecognizable in her disguise—someone not of this galaxy or any I've been in before. She becomes a blur of movement or a feeling in passing. No wonder she's so good at what she does.

We depart the HMS Valediction and sidle along the Vesta, dropping Nuna off to coordinate with Coodi and the asset offloading team. As planned, we leave to rendezvous at the marked port Coodi designated for their next product delivery.

The ride over is dead silent. Moon doesn't say a word and neither do I. I feel the heaviness between us in whatever it is he wants to say but doesn't. Moon holding back? This is a first. It's uncomfortable and for the first time, I wish he would just spit out whatever is on his mind.

After a torturous trip, I'm grateful to see the small planet ahead. We find one of the enormous docks that rise above the planet's atmosphere. Moon's ship connects with the incoming station's port. He pushes the steering rig forward, mating our dock to the sky rise of the station while I twiddle my thumbs in the co-pilot's spot. John's soft heat tickles my neck and warms the metal headrest. I lean back farther to find a hint of reprieve from the thick intensity.

Their gentle parlay of commands from ship captain to harbor master is a soft music I've become more and more accustomed to. He murmurs our response to the tower, acknowledging we're ready to shut down and board the station. I'm partially glad someone is talking.

"Which one of us is finishing landing checklists—" I say, unbuckling my chest strap.

Moon taps the gold band embedded in his temple, glares at me with his organic eye and rises, his coat swirling behind him as he ditches me in the cockpit.

"No. Right. You go ahead and set things up. I'll take care of your ship." I shift in my seat and recline farther. "Dickhead."

John jitters, his metal legs, his orange, jiggling body vibrating until a strand of his gelatinous goop flings across the cockpit and lands in a puddle on Moon's seat. It bubbles and soaks into the cushion leaving a sticky cold wet spot. John always knows how to make me feel better.

**

In a normal situation, I would have relished this moment. Solitude. John's warmth, the gentle rocking of our ship tethered to the high station port, and the vast sea of stars would normally lull me to sleep with my chin down and my arms crossed comfortably across my chest. But something ugly prickles my palms. I clench and unclench my hands, shake them out, and wipe them on my pants.

There are too many problems orbiting me to pinpoint exactly which anxiety is the one eating at me at this moment, so I lean back, close my eyes, and breathe.

Breathe.

Just breathe.

John waits patiently until I'm relaxed then buzzes at me with lights blinking from his legs as I wrap up the checklist.

"Let's go," I say, knocking once against his metal leg.

I shut and lock the dropship behind me, John clinking at my side. We're greeted by a long tunnel connecting with perpendicular halls. A few beings join the long stretch of passageway with me.

With my hood obscuring my face, I have to raise my scales enough to allow my senses to open and perceive my atmosphere. My gaze remains pinned on the deck, but I can hear the footfall of each humanoid and non-humanoid. I smell the different corners of the galaxy on their bodies and feel the way their skin and garments displace the air around me. The echo of their voices provides me a roadmap of where to step so I don't collide with any of them. This would have been super helpful in the URE when the rolling blackouts took the little light we had. When we reach the lifts, the galactic beings stuff themselves inside. Their rainbow of skin presses against the metal edges before the platform pulls them down. When John and I enter the next empty lift, no one joins us. They remain rooted to the waiting area, staring at him, his face plate swiveling to the smile. It's nice to have the whole lift to ourselves as we're pulled down to the main port.

I still don't know what it is about the Xani that the universe detests so much, but sometimes being an outcast has its perks.

We land with a soft thud and exit to an enormous atrium. There are trees on this planet. Lush, green leaves as thick as tires and as wide as my bed dangle from the ceiling dripping moisture that gets absorbed back into the wet air. Moon said we wouldn't need our bubbles—that this planet had a breathable atmosphere similar to Earth's. What he failed to mention was that the air was dense enough with water particles to make it feel like I was choking on it. Like slowly drowning.

Beings amble everywhere in the port. Transparent, holographic signage hovers at the elevator exits, different languages scrolling rapidly to point newcomers toward the available facilities. I remember this place now. The faint images of the much drier world outside the terminal blink in and out of my imagination.

"Welcome to Tenyar," Moon says in my earpiece. Wherever he is, at least I'm in his sights.

"You might have been too drunk to remember, but we've been here before," I say, scratching at a particular ring on my neck that itches from the memory.

"You destroyed an esteemed public art installation left to the people by a beloved monarch."

"You pushed me into it!"

"Captain. Janika. Please." Nuna's soft voice cuts off my next accusation. I melt at the song quality of her words. "I am approaching with the Vesta land crew. Coodi is with the asset. There has been no sign of irregularities or distress."

"Yet," Moon and I say in unison. The tight twisting in my gut has returned. Something tells me it has nothing to do with my relationship with Nuna. It isn't the longing every time I leave Hux behind or a strike of fear from the laundry list of horror Moyra reported about Black Lab.

"You feel it too?" I shut off my communicator and ask Moon directly when I find him skulking in the shadow under an enormous leaf.

He glares at me, then glares at John behind me. "The point of lurking is to go unnoticed. My cover is blown now that you're instigating a full conversation in broad daylight." He sweeps his arm around to gesture to the ambling travelers minding their own business.

"No one cares what we're doing over here. Tell me you feel it too."

"I'm not talking to you."

"I knew it!" I point at his face. "So you were giving me the silent treatment."

"This is childish."

"No, what's childish is ignoring me for the entire travel time. You've been purposefully making it uncomfortable for me. Why?"

"I'm not indulging your idiocy today."

"Did you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

How the hell do I describe this? "I don't know. Like everything in your stomach is tight and all your muscles are clenched like you're anticipating a kick to the gut."

"What are you talking about?"

"That's not part of the scales?"

"Have they made you feel that way before?"

I lean on my hip as I think. "No. Not that I can remember."

"Then why are you bothering me? Knowing you and your juvenile preference for foods containing dairy, it's most likely indigestion."

"I don't think so."

In my peripherals, I catch a glint of sunlight reflecting off the curve of golden armor. Moon and I both turn to see Coodi leading a team of three from out of the nearest lift. Behind them, I spot Nuna following at a distance in the wide, bustling throughway, her hood covering half her face.

I turn my communicator back on. "I'm in position," I say, returning to my pre-designated observation spot near the elevator exits. John has crawled up the wall to hide behind one of the enormous leaves. I slink away until I'm enveloped in its long shadow just below him. I scan the clouds beyond the glass dome with a weary eye. In times like this, the old Reaper kicks in. Some old habits don't die, I guess. Daylight still doesn't sit right with me. Maybe that's what's wrong. My memories are haunting me again.

Coodi and her entourage speak with one of the Tadj attendants at the port's exit. I slink by through the individual traveler's exits while the attendant scans her hand tablet. The outside is blisteringly hot, but drier—almost like breathing the visible air above fire. The Golden Legion in their new armor sparkle brilliantly under the hot sun. I have to avert my eyes briefly to avoid permanent damage to my retinas.

After clearing with the Tadj, Coodi, and her team make their way to a designated public center for trades and exchanges. She remains outside, standing stiffly as speaks with the attendant at the front. I hone my hearing in on their space and don't have to strain much to hear their conversation as if I'm standing right there next to them.

"Olympi Gold Enterprise," Coodi says, her voice steady. "I'm here to complete a transaction."

The Tadj doesn't say anything, but I perceive the soft hum of her displeasure as she flips through appointments on her pad. "You are expected."

"Which direction—"

"The port of Tenyar is aware of recent aggression against your business. We are offering complimentary security for the duration of your visit."

If Coodi is surprised, she doesn't show it. "I appreciate the courtesy. Tenyar is known for its professionalism."

A swarm of ten armed Tadj surrounds Coodi and her small Vesta crew. If I didn't know that this was just another way the ports remain impartial to who or what they're serving as long as it's within the universal port laws and Tadj jurisdiction, I'd be nervous. The Tadj are not imposing figures, but I know what strength they have in their noodle-like appendages. I know what it feels like to have the full force of their law come down on your body.

They wait as a boxy, hovering vehicle arrives. Surrounded by Tadj by foot, it slows and stops in front of the building. The door slides open and Kai emerges, his upgraded HEL rifle tech loose in his arms.

He's been tinkering. The weapon isn't the same clunky shoulder rifle from my memories, but a new, sleeker, gold-infused weapon that compliments the gold embellishments of his new armor. They took pieces of what the original Golden Legion used and broke it down into attachments. A half a breastplate over our URE plate carriers. Golden shoulder guards. Juno's old symbol of the mountain that was an upside-down V still shines on their chests and arms, but we've repurposed it to mean Vesta in secret. Not that the Tadj knows that.

I know we're breaking a ton of laws by our little rouse, but if it keeps business flowing, then sure. Why not?

Kai stands sentry as the Tadj unload the cargo from the back of the vehicle. Six barrels of liquid gold. What a haul.

"Are we sure using so much cargo as bait was a good idea?" I whisper to the comms.

"This isn't a test run, Junker. This is a real transaction," Kai says.

I balk at my old callsign. I guess I never told them they couldn't use it.

Kai sweeps his gaze over the less-busy area of the downtown port. Coodi scans the other side. We all watch, anticipating something to go wrong as the Tadj unload the cargo and guide it into the building.

The last of the cargo disappears. Nothing. It was a smooth transaction. The Vesta crew unloading the goods give us the all-clear.

"Copy that," Coodi says. "Asset ops are clear to RTB."

Coodi thanks the Tadj in their customary bow and enters as Kai signals for everyone else to return to base with him.

"Stop," Nuna's voice is soft through the comms. "Don't leave yet. There are whispers."

When I scan the city again, I notice the civilians check the sky before scurrying toward shelter.

My stomach twists again.

It hits me.

I know where this feeling is from.