With steps that were almost millimetrically regular and his arms crossed inside the sleeves of his wide, dusty gray denim coat, Alek walked, making a faint noise with his kitás, one foot after the other. In contrast, Myles walked erratically a little behind, still very shaken and deep in thought about everything he had heard just moments ago, struggling to stay focused enough not to lose sight of Alek. Jenson’s words echoed and ricocheted inside his mind, projecting the events and blending his emotions into a swirl of rage, frustration, helplessness, confusion, fear, longing, and emotional need. The two young men had barely walked the first mile of the four that separated them from Rhakotis Station 3 when Myles, unusually quiet the entire way, finally overcame himself and asked the first question:

  "— Have you been where we’re going?"

  "— I’ve visited the Northern Zone of Rhakotis, but I’ve never met Mr. Endo, nor have I visited the place where he apparently lives," Alek answered, directly and focused.

  A few hundred more yards passed, about four and a half blocks, when Myles asked a second question:

  "— And what about this... Paul Roax, do you know him?"

  "— Not personally. The Master seems to trust him a lot, and he seems like someone who can help us a great deal." Alek now spoke in a tone that was more or less sympathetic.

  Myles remained silent for what must have been another mile or so before asking another question:

  "— Did you know my parents?"

  "— I’m only twenty-one life cycles old. I was still just a child living in the Bamboo Groves when they died." Alek replied with measured insensitivity, noticing Myles looking down at the ground again. Then he pulled out a ProFibHid bar—a highly nutritious and delicious bar made from genetically engineered ingredients—peeled off half the wrapper, and took a bite.

  "— Here. You can eat the other half." Alek handed over half the bar, still chewing as he offered it, watching Myles give him a sad but grateful look before taking the bar and biting into it. The taste was sweet, with a bitter aftertaste. Just like his life so far.

  It was already late into the night when the two young men got close enough to see the station. They could hear the buzz of people coming and going, working and loitering around, mixed with the constant rise and fall of the sirens from the G.M.R.T. patrol floaters and the characteristic hum of the hydrogen-powered propulsion trains. Neon lights blinked in every color, vendors competed with the volume of their voices, trying to lure in customers while Myles watched the way they gestured and negotiated. A moderate brightness lit the scene, accompanied by the sound of the blades of a patrol and reconnaissance drone slowly flying overhead.

  Myles’s stomach let out such a loud, cavernous noise that it sounded like a load-bearing ox groaning in hoof pain, which caught Alek’s attention. Alek gave him an instruction:

  "— You can find us some new clothes and something to eat while I search for—or create—a breach in the station’s security. We don’t want to get caught by the facial-recognition security drones. That’d ruin the party before it even starts." The gaunt, bandaged young man added what he believed to be a pinch of humor at the end of his sentence.

  "— No! That’s a terrible idea! That’s always how people get screwed. Splitting up! Don’t you watch movies?" Myles protested.

  "— Myles, if we don’t hurry, we’re going to miss another train, and that’s just going to delay us more. Besides, the sooner we reach Mr. Nishida, the better. We’ll be safe there, and he’ll know what to do, okay?" Alek tried to convince him.

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  "— But, Alek…" Myles tried to object, before being cut off:

  "— And he’ll have a bunch of food." Alek played his final card.

  Myles finally agreed and took a few tentative steps, scanning the area almost as if he were lost, bumping into two or three passersby as he did.

  "— If this is a trap… I don’t… If they catch me alone… If the pink one finds me here…" But he didn’t let uncertainty paralyze him.

  — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

  "— Emperor, permission to enter." Major Baylon knocked on the door of the Imperial martial arts training hall, where T?ten honed his skills.

  "— Enter, Baylon." The Emperor’s voice was read by the hall’s automation system, which opened the door for Baylon to enter and find a sweaty, slightly winded T?ten wiping his snout with a small black towel. "— Any progress on your task?" T?ten asked as he sat on a bench in the corner of the hall.

  "— Yes, Lord Emperor. That is exactly why I’m here." Baylon knelt and bowed his forehead in reverence.

  "— Give me at least ONE good piece of news, Baylon." T?ten draped the towel over the back of his neck.

  "— In fact, Emperor, right now we have more questions than answers, unfortunately." Baylon kept his eyes on the floor beneath T?ten’s feet.

  "— Update me, then." T?ten grew intrigued.

  "— Yes, sir. Well, the S-14 patrol and recon unit aboard ship T-212 had its route and mission pre-defined by protocol before even leaving the Central hangar. At 5:57 AM on day 76, they took off and headed to the coastal region of Klyek. At 7:16, they arrived and lowered altitude to begin scanning and patrolling the area. Everything proceeded as expected, aside from two minor incidents which, according to onboard audio and video, were handled routinely..." Baylon began his report, but before he could finish the sentence, T?ten cut him off:

  "— I see. And what happened after that? Tell me."

  "— Well, at 9:37, an anomaly seems to occur. In the video, the captain is seen clutching his head for several minutes, and at 9:41 he enters the cockpit—while the ship is still in flight—and orders the pilot to change course eastward. The pilot questions his appearance, behavior, and the order. The captain insists firmly, and at 9:43, the ship changes course toward the desert." Baylon continued, only to be interrupted again by T?ten:

  "— The video shows NOTHING else? No object? Device? Projectile? NOTHING?" T?ten couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  "— Just what I’m reporting, sir. We and the team reviewed the footage countless times and found nothing else to report." Baylon explained, his head lowered.

  "— I see. Continue." T?ten permitted.

  "— At 1:24 PM, when the ship should’ve already been on its way back to Central, it lowered its altitude over the first few miles of desert, near the Jaruq border. That’s when both the audio and video cut out, sir. The tracker logged the ship flying in circles for about an hour and a half within a twenty-mile radius, until finally, at 2:46 PM, it crashed. Two minutes before the emergency broadcast reached your quarters." Baylon concluded.

  It was impossible. Unimaginable. And yet T?ten felt something he didn’t want to admit. The cold shadow of doubt. He slammed his left hand on the wooden bench, leaving an imprint of his massive purple hand in the fibers, startling Baylon, who tried to disguise the small jolt the sound had caused.

  "— What the hell! What happened on that ship? I’ve never heard of anything like this! What happened? Why would that captain do something like that?" T?ten stood up from the bench and began pacing slowly, scratching his chin as he distanced himself from Baylon, who remained kneeling and still, pushing his brain like a child in front of a complex puzzle. "— Get up, Baylon."

  Baylon stood, still looking at the floor, as T?ten turned toward him and approached.

  "— Look at me. Did you speak to the major at the captain’s barracks—his superior?"

  "— Yes, sir. He told me he noticed nothing strange about the captain and said they were even friends outside of work. He showed me pictures from events and family gatherings. I can’t understand it either, which is why I decided to report what I had so far, to show you we are committed to this matter." Baylon explained, eyes locked on his one-time great friend. "— In any case, we will continue to investigate, sir." Baylon lowered his eyes again, as if silently asking for permission to leave.

  "— Very well, Baylon. You may go." T?ten granted the implied permission.

  Baylon left the training hall without looking back. He knew T?ten well enough to know that when the Emperor acted like this, blood usually followed.

  While T?ten tried to unravel a mystery at the heart of the desert, Myles was, unknowingly, walking right into it.

  deeply wrong… and it’s not just about the fate of Myles’s family anymore.

  T?ten knows it. Baylon feels it.

  And Myles? He’s walking straight into it.

  Stay curious. Stay alive.