You walk into the lush rainforest habitat module of the space ship that Nävis calls home and find her beside a stream lying on her stomach with her feet crossed behind her; the bubbled porthole windows show the expanse of stars outside the flotilla as the stream gurgles and the birds call out in the simulated daylight. Nävis' hair is tied into space buns, the netting fastening her hair nearly her only adornment as she suns herself

"So—good news or bad news?" A preemptive pout forms