I say to Tomas. “My ship isn’t rated to handle that depth,” Tomas says, forcing a smile. “When was your ship made?” I ask. “Oh,” Tomas says, “a good eighty years ago. I inherited it from my father–” “So when the ship was made, terraforming of Venus was eighty years behind now. You realize the pressure is much lower overall? Even the cities float lower than they did eighty years ago. And I thought you said you just arrived from off-world? How did you inherit the ship if you just arrived? This ship is only designed to fly on Venus.” I don’t trust this guy, but it’s probably not wise to call him out on all of his lies like this. “Ah,” Tomas says, wincing. “It’s a long story, if you sit back I can tell you a tale–” “No,” Aegus snaps. “Do what she says. Or else.” Tomas grins.
