Meanwhile on Seraphim Seven, Ur’gath and B’li Jo were buckling in for the long ride to Ceres. They had heard all about the dangers, but also about the great potential for striking it rich in the Cumber Mines and had promised each other unlimited wealth or bust, a dream they had shared since their impoverished childhood in the floating orphanage off Moon Base Seven One Nine. Nothing was going to stop them now, not even the rapturous Singh Pot Pie nor the famous Stinging Nettles of Kettlebush Forest. Both had struggled and overcome many hazards before, and the challenge of fending off migrants and other unwelcome hordes was certainly no deterrent to them now. Already past the age of twelve, they had, like all their contemporaries, no ability to count any higher, nor had they need to. Any quantity greater than twelve was dreadful enough already. Besides, the demonic goddess B’quiff was known to spread curses like jelly or even jam on anyone who dared question her arithmetic. This oath they swore to one another, that by the dim light of the dwarf planet moon they would avenge every foul deed and drink the blood of dragons or whatnot.