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Both cloud and sky peeled away, the atmosphere releasing them, and Charles let out a gasp.

Eisen was a planet of umber and ochre, clay and rock; toxic seas and underground rivers and interconnected landmasses that rippled with jagged mountain ranges and deep canyons. Lights dotted the inhabited areas, which was the small percentage of marginally flat, or at least manageable, land. It must be early evening on Lehnsherr Manor - Charles could see the sunlight slowly retreating over the curve of the planet.

Further away, the rusting expanse of the metal scrap fields, seemingly endless. Somewhere in there was Chester, and their little West compound, and their neighbors tucking into dinner before heading up to the Circle.

Darkness crept into the upper edges of the viewing-window. Charles looked up, and it suddenly struck him: he was in space.

Those were stars, hard and distant, their light steady now above the curtain of atmosphere. Those were ships, of all shapes and sizes; some of them looked as big and immovable as the two natural moons, while others were tiny, flitting like insects from ship to ship amidst the glittering flotilla. This was Eisen's fifth City, the City-in-Orbit.