Karma
Nanashi hasn't changed.
He's not sure why he would expect it to. But since Corvus, since the running and the screaming, the shooting and the poisonous dust, part of him keeps expecting to return and find a second go-round of the end of one particular small world. Someone owns a lot of Nanashi, or at least lays some kind of claim. But no one really looks after it.
But it's the same as ever, dry and reddish and dirty and poor by the system's standards. The metal roofs of the settlement gleam as he he sets them carefully down on the landing pad, the tarmac half covered over with blowing sand. Impossible to keep it out of everything.
And yet somehow he still feels a kind of twisted affection for the place.
"We got a couple hours before we need to make the meet," he says, cutting the engines and glancing over at Neil. "We could look in on your mom, if you want."