Venus Time: 18:03, March 22, 2295

  Camp Yusuf, Northern Venus

  {

  Jabari-kun~

  I still keep your semen with me, you know? I keep thinking back to that morning in the Warren. The rhythm of your thrusts was very... musical. Like a good song. I wonder if you've composed anything new since then?

  See you on Venus.

  — F

  }

  "Right. As if I'd know when and how, hey?" Jabari read the message on the walk over, muttering to himself.

  He'd seen it six days ago. Read it four times on his Nucleus Watch since. His thumb found it again as he crossed the camp, stepping around Riggers hauling cable.

  Worm Witch. That was either a line or a literal statement, and with Fuuka he genuinely couldn't tell.

  He closed the message. His body remembered what his brain kept trying to file away: her legs locked around him, the heat of her whisper, cum for me, those almond-shaped eyes burning with WANT.

  Natsukawa. The same family name on Nikki's letter.

  The woman he'd banged in a dungeon and the woman who'd been treating their wounds were connected. And Jabari was the only one who knew it.

  He kept walking.

  Up ahead, dinner was standing-room only. Constables and Vanguards were handing out rice balls wrapped tight in dark seaweed, stuffed with tuna or pickled vegetable, stacked in metal trays on a crate near the firepit.

  The camp was still half-built. Xin crouched by the nearest perimeter turret, Nucleus Watch synced to its targeting interface, fingers swiping through calibration menus while H?kon perched on his shoulder and watched the numbers scroll. Riggers moved between the Polaris and the yurt ring, hauling thermal blankets and acid-resistant tarps. Two of them wrestled a motion sensor into volcanic grit that barely held it.

  People grabbed food as they passed through. Sigrun had two onigiri on her knee while she ran a Zephyrium whetstone in long even strokes along Járn's edge, sparks popping off the Thermal Axe's blade.

  Jabari grabbed a tuna onigiri and bit in. Good rice. Decent fish. He looked around.

  H?kon had left Xin's shoulder to sit on a folded blanket by the fire with his own small dinner: some emerald liquid-form supplements mixed with a smaller rice ball about his size. He ate with both of his tiny claws, grains sticking to his snout, scales cycling through contented warm sunset tones. Next to the baby Radi-Mon was a small shot glass filled with water. Jabari inferred it was a cup meant for the little creature.

  Nearby, Thomas already finished one rice ball then grabbed another. Xin wrapped up his work and joined them. Marcus carried the rations to the soldiers on the outer ring before taking any for himself.

  Minutes passed. When enough people had drifted close enough to the firepit for it to count as a gathering, H?kon had just finished his onigiri. The little Diabolisk grabbed the shot glass and held it up with both claws, mimicking the exact angle he was seeing the adults around him do.

  "Careful, boy." Xin walked fast towards him.

  "HAW-koon cheers!" he announced. "To…gold world! And new friends! And Sky Lady! And Pappa! And..." He scanned the circle, clearly working through his mental list. "...Music Man! Silver Man! Red-Eye Man! Doctor Lady! And Red Lady! And Ma-reen Man! And every-body!"

  His scales flushed bright azure, casting a faint blue glow on the blanket beneath him.

  Thomas chuckled. Marcus dipped his head in rare amusement. Even Roach's mouth twitched at one corner.

  "Well, this isn't a regular mission, that's for sure. Cheers to y'all," Thomas said, raising his own cup.

  They drank. Even Dilinur and Nikki, who lifted her tea with a smile that reached her tired eyes and looked, to anyone watching, it was hard to tell whether she was trying to look warm or being cautious.

  "There are far better planets to be, but thank the Gods our food supplies held." Jabari drank too, and the water tasted sweet and perfect on a planet with such sulfuric air.

  He waited two beats. Then, casual, light: "So, H?kon. I heard about the big news. Two hearts, huh?"

  "Two hearts!" H?kon bounced on his blanket, tapping his small chest with one claw. "Doctor Lady say HAW-koon special. Thump-thump, thump-thump!" He patted twice with each claw, alternating sides.

  "Special, eh? Have you told anyone else?" Jabari's eyes drifted to Nikki.

  Nothing. The doctor chewed her onigiri, watching H?kon with that same attentive, clinical warmth. Not a flinch or blink out of rhythm.

  "Frost Man happy when HAW-koon tell him in dream!" H?kon added, tail swishing against the blanket. "Frost Man keep asking how HAW-koon's hearts are doing!"

  The campfire popped. A log shifted, sending up sparks.

  Sigrun stopped chewing. She nearly froze. Nearly dropped something. But she'd stopped, the onigiri held an inch from her mouth, her jaw locked mid-bite. Her sapphire eyes went somewhere far away.

  Xin's hand moved towards her. Small movements, but Jabari caught it.

  "Frost Man," Jabari said, keeping his voice easy. "Sounds like a good teacher."

  "Best-best!" H?kon was oblivious to the shift in the air. "Frost Man teach HAW-koon ice shapes in dream. How to hold ice strong, hold ice tight-tight." His scales dimmed from azure to thoughtful deep teal. "But Frost Man say…HAW-koon should keep alone in dream place. Even when it feels warm-warm and nice. Frost Man says that is very, very important."

  Jabari nodded at that.

  A Vanguard jogged up before anyone could press further, handing Dilinur a logistics tablet. "Prefect Altai. Camp Yusuf is set up and good to go."

  Dilinur looked over it, nodded, and stood.

  "All Associates." Her voice carried precise authority. "I'm calling a briefing at twenty-two hundred. We discuss our approach to Jin Syue in the morrow." She looked at the Riggers hauling hull panels off the Polaris ramp. "I'm also informed that the ship's residential systems will be offline tonight for repairs. Showers, suites, all amenities. We will all sleep in the yurts."

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  Jabari looked at the yurts, then at the amber sky. "Lovely."

  "One day on Venus takes 243 Earth ones, but—we'll maintain the 24-hour Standard Sol routines, as the locals have managed in the century past." Dilinur returned the logistics tablet to the Vanguard next to her. The Vanguard rejoined his fellow soldiers on the outer ring.

  The gathering broke apart fast. Everyone had work.

  Jabari was carrying his bag toward the yurt ring when he noticed the bread crate.

  It sat near the supply stack between two Space Rovers. Standard Alliance field rations: vacuum-sealed loaves, dense, calorie-packed, edible in the loosest sense. But the lid had been pried off and set aside, one loaf missing. The plastic seal on a second had been chewed open, teeth marks too wide and too flat for anything human.

  Jabari set down his kit bag. "That doesn't look like H?kon's doing…"

  Prints in the sulfur grit. Four-toed, broad, deep-set. Heavy animal, moving at a walk. The tracks led east, away from camp, toward a ridge of volcanic rock that broke the valley's flat expanse.

  He looked back at camp. Sigrun sat cross-legged by her yurt. Xin had his head inside what looked like a turret housing, Nucleus Watch projecting lights into the gap. Nobody was watching the perimeter or noticing that something had walked into their camp and stolen bread.

  Something big enough to crack a ration crate and too bold to care about motion sensors. Common sense said report it. Griot instincts said follow it.

  Jabari followed it. Plenty of time until 10 PM, surely.

  The tracks cut across the sulfur flat and up the ridge's loose scree. He climbed quietly, one hand on the Moonstone Cutlass at his hip, boots steadily in the volcanic gravel, one step at a time. The amber glow made the landscape look like burnt honey.

  Up ahead, atop the ridge, a shape was moving.

  Big. Low to the ground. Armored plates across its back, dark blue-gray, overlapping like roof tiles. Built like someone had crossed a beaver with a groundhog and then fed it for a decade. It lumbered with a loaf of bread clamped in its flat jaws, moving with somehow unhurried confidence.

  Jabari had never seen one in person, but he'd studied the silhouettes during the Directorate's xenobiology modules. He muttered in recognition. "Grávomb. Jokull Horde. Pacifist resource collector or builder."

  Not dangerous. But also not supposed to be on Venus.

  He crested the ridge.

  The Grávomb sat on its haunches at the cliff's edge, bread placed at the feet of a man who stood looking out over Sulfur Valley below. Blond hair, cut short. Athletic build in worn, dark teal wool coat. A cylindrical device—Jabari assumed it was a Psytum Sword on standby—hung at the man's hip, the silver pommel catching the amber light.

  The man turned.

  Blue eyes. Very blue. The kind of blue that could only belong to a Nordling hailing from the fabled moons of Jupiter.

  "That's far enough," the blonde man said. His voice was controlled, carrying a faint Nordic cadence. He assessed Jabari. Then his gaze dropped to the Moonstone Cutlass. "A Directorate Griot, here on Venus."

  "Guilty." Jabari kept his hand on the hilt but didn't draw. "But hey, your pet stole our bread. That's kind of—I don't know—breaking the law?"

  The Nordling didn't smile. "As if the Planet of Lust and Rot had any law worth obey."

  "Ha! You don't like this place. Makes two of us." Jabari took a cautious step forward.

  "Olav has poor impulse control around baked goods." The Nordling sighed before nudging the Grávomb with his boot and spoke a short phrase in J?turmál. "Proy-thith, Olav. Slep-tuh thvee."

  The Grávomb—Olav—chirped, picked up the loaf, and waddled toward Jabari, placing it at his feet with what looked like genuine reluctance.

  "I'd recommend not eating that," the man said. "Alliance field rations sometimes contain micro-tracking bots. Passive GPS markers that activate in the stomach lining. Been a trick of theirs since year '93."

  Jabari looked at the bread. Looked back up. "You know, most people just say hello."

  "I was hoping to avoid direct contact with travelers from Xing Hong." The man's jaw tightened. "But Olav forced the matter, and you're a better tracker than I expected."

  "You're the Frost Man? In H?kon's dreams?" Jabari picked up the loaf, turned it over. Standard vacuum seal, standard Alliance markings with the deep blue maple leaf and two eagles on its sides.

  The man was quiet for seconds. Then: "My name is Ivar Lindqvist."

  "Jabari Adomako," Jabari kept his face neutral, but his mind was already turning pages. "Currently wondering how a fancy Nordling ends up on Venus alone."

  Ivar didn't answer that. Instead: "You're one of Sigrun's companions."

  "Her colleague, you can say. Part of the Prefect's expedition."

  Ivar's gaze shifted past Jabari, toward Camp Yusuf below. Toward the distant shapes of people working, yurts going up around firelight.

  "Good," he said, and the word carried enough weight to bend. "She and H?kon are surrounded by people. That relieves me." A pause. "Though I'm concerned about how many of said people have vile intentions."

  That hit closer than expected. Jabari thought about Nikki's letter. About Fuuka's message. About the photograph burning in his Nucleus Watch.

  "Hard to tell who's scheming these days, hey?" Jabari said with a grin. "We're here to take down the big bad. At least that's what I'm told."

  "Skarn." Ivar said the name like pressing a bruise. "Dagny, our true princess, is leading a war against him on Europa. The Jokull Horde against the Fenris. We've been losing ground, inch by inch." His voice stayed level, but the emotions behind his blue eyes were not. "Dagny won't admit it. Won't ask for help. Says it's the Nordic people's war alone."

  "And you disagree." Jabari tucked the loaf under his arm. Looked at the man's face. At his dormant Psytum Sword. At the Grávomb sitting patiently beside him.

  "As Dagny's consort, I do whatever's needed to help our people win this war." Flat. Rehearsed. Then, quieter: "But I'm standing here. Draw your own conclusions."

  Olav chirped softly. Ivar rested a hand on the Grávomb's armored head.

  "No doubt you seek Meiya Ji," Ivar said. "The creator of Radi-Humans who once worked a lab in the Red Rabbit Warren on Mars. Many would say the creator of all Radi-Mons."

  "My 'supervisor' said this Meiya left us a trail, so we follow it. No harm in doing it."

  "Then I'm sorry." Ivar met his eyes. "For that avenue is no longer viable."

  A sulfur vent hissed somewhere down the ridge.

  "What do you mean, not viable?" Jabari kept his voice steady.

  Ivar looked at the valley. At Jin Syue's lights pulsing through the haze. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. "These are dark days. I'm unsure you'd believe the truth." He turned back. "Perhaps you need to see for yourself."

  "Hey, that's not an answer."

  "It's the only one I have." Ivar's hand dropped from Olav's head to the pommel of his sword. More a resting gesture than a threat, but Jabari noted it. "I won't pretend we're allies. I don't know you. Beyond Meiya, I don't know what Xing Hong's people want from this expedition, what the Alliance agents traveling with you have promised, or what the Covenant Stalwart reports to his handlers."

  "But?"

  "But if you discover any method to defeat or destroy Skarn..." Ivar's blue eyes held him. "...you must share it with me. Immediately."

  "Must?"

  "Must."

  They looked at each other. Olav glanced between them, flat tail tapping the ground.

  "You know," Jabari said, "I'm hearing a lot of demands with no reason to cooperate."

  Something cracked in Ivar's expression. "Some of us don't get to play fair."

  "Is that how you Nordling people say 'Trust me, bro?'" Jabari gestured, loaf in one hand, his smug grin returning. "Come on, I'd rather us be friends—"

  "JABARI!"

  Marcus's voice, carrying from below the ridge. British vowels punching through the sulfur haze. "Quit idling! Dilinur's asking for us. Briefing's starting!"

  "Coming!" Jabari turned toward the voice, raising one hand. "Yo, Marcus, why don't you come up here to meet someone." He turned back, gesturing. "This man here, Ivar Lindqvist, and his—"

  Empty air.

  The cliff edge. Bare rock. Sulfur grit undisturbed, as if nothing heavier than wind had ever stood there. No Ivar. No Olav.

  Just Jabari, holding a loaf of bread, pointing at nothing.

  Marcus crested the ridge, Bulwark strapped to his back, slightly winded. He looked at Jabari's outstretched arm. Looked at the empty cliff, then at the bread.

  "...Right." Marcus wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Maybe lay off the sulfur fumes or whatever drugs you're smoking? And eat your bread."

  "I swear to you, there was a man standing right there. Blond, Nordic, had a Psytum Sword and a big groundhog-based Radi-Mon—"

  "Groundhog-based Radi-Mon."

  "I know how it sounds."

  "Aye." Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. "Just come. Dilinur's waiting and she's already in a mood about the showers being offline."

  They walked back toward camp. Jabari fell into step beside him, the loaf tucked under his arm. He looked over his shoulder once. Twice.

  The cliff was empty. The sulfur grit showed nothing but his own boot prints.

  He looked at the bread in his hands. Turned it over. Standard Alliance field rations. Nothing off about it.

  His Nucleus Watch was warm against his wrist. Two secrets now. Nikki's letter he couldn't fully read. Some Nordic man who'd vanished like smoke.

  And somewhere in the amber haze, Jin Syue waited.

  Jabari followed Marcus down the ridge, shaking his head. "This planet, I swear."