The little ship touched down inside the hangar bay in Delphi with a gentle thud. Vivian wasn’t the greatest pilot, but she knew enough about flying to do a half-decent job, and she was pleased she managed to land without breaking anything.

Jack awoke groggily, opening his eyes in the dim lighting of his holding cell. He was on a hard-backed bed with almost no padding. His head hurt, and he felt as though he’d been decked in the temple.

“Another group is leaving,” Jayson said. “Tomorrow, from the sounds of it. They’re going off world.”

Lyle finally decided it was late enough to vacate his hotel room.

Abdullah sat in the common eating area where enlisted men took their meals, down in the belly of the beast. He was sitting arm to arm with men well below his rank and station aboard the Capital Class warship Denigen’s Fist.

“Which Casino do you want to hit next?” Beck asked as they found their way back to the main thoroughfare. Jack shrugged, pleasantly tipsy and enjoying the atmosphere. The lights, the music, the action. He felt like dancing, like months of excess stress were being scraped away.

Maven leaned against one of the pillars in the gaudy throne room Darius had set up, listening to her sister Alyssa and Darius argue and bicker like a couple of angry schoolchildren.

Victor waited outside the office building of Markwell, leaning against a car and tapping his fingers against the hood. It was the middle of the day, but on a weekend so there were very few cars in the parking lot. His was in a back corner, tucked out of sight.

Jim stormed into the little corner bar in the brewery district called the Blue Daisy in a foul mood. He needed a drink to take his mind off of just how bad his life had become.