The office was exactly as they had left it, of course. Cleaning robots kept everything spotless, always doing their work when there were no crewmembers around to see it. Lucky paused, walking slowly around the room and inspecting what Olivia had kept here. Mostly it was photographs, printed images that would’ve come in her personal files. They were groups of military-looking people, smiling together on airfields or in bars. Most of them had official notes at the bottom, such as “WEST POINT CLASS OF 2140.” Lucky removed each one with respect—easy to do since Olivia hadn’t been able to fly when she put them up—and set each framed photo into the box, along with a replica of a colt 1911 and a few other knickknacks.