The creaking stopped and Leta looked up as Fiearius leaned back to look down. “You wanna give this a go, kiddo?”

Of course she didn’t. Heights terrified her. Which was something Fiearius was well aware of. “Hurry,” she growled again, rolling her eyes. “I’m tired of looking up at your ass.”

The creaking resumed as Fiearius continued his climb, though Leta was certain, through the noise, she heard him remark, “Liar.”

Refusing to reward bad behavior with attention, Leta ignored him and went back to watching the vast double doors like a hawk. The party inside seemed to be going strong and, as far as she could tell, no one was wondering where they had gone. Except maybe Liam. Gods, she probably should have said something to him. Or invited him along. He was a reporter, surely he had some investigative skills that would come in handy. At the very least, he was good company.

Leta was just considering going back inside to fetch him when a door directly beside her swung open. At once, she jumped back, but when Fiearius emerged from beneath the shadow of the doorway, a proud smirk plastering his face, she calmed.

“Unlocked the stairs,” he chimed and headed back into the narrow corridor. “Come on up.”

Casting one last glance in the direction of the ballroom and internally hoping Liam would understand, Leta followed.

The upper level of the mansion was just as beautiful as the rest, but infinitely quieter. Of course, everyone was down below, dancing the night away at the party. Fiearius and Leta left the grand balcony and entered a hallway, lined with white marble pillars and floored with lush red carpeting. After the first corner, Leta was already turned around, but Fiearius continued on with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where he was going.

“How do you know where his quarters are?” she had to know.

“Found the guest room ledger in the downstairs study,” he answered easily.

“The downstairs study? Shouldn’t that have been locked?”

“It was.”

“So you broke into the private study to steal secure information about the guests,” Leta said. “And you called Liam a shark.”

Fiearius glanced back over his shoulder and smirked. “Takes one to know one.”

“Speaking of which.”

“We don’t need to–” Fiearius began, but she cut him off, feeling a spike of that familiar anger run through her.

“We do need to. You were horrible. I wish I could say I was surprised at you, but frankly, I’m not. I had just been hoping you’d be able to be an adult about it.”

Fiearius locked eyes with her, but his expression was unreadable. “Leta–”

“Liam’s done nothing to you. Nothing. I know you’ve had bad experiences with journalists in the past, but that’s no reason to act like such an ass to every one you meet,” she went on. “Especially one that I’m introducing as someone who matters to me.”

Fiearius continued to stare at her for a long, tense moment until finally, he sighed. “Look, I respect that, honestly, but–I don’t trust him,” he said, speaking far more calmly and cohesively than she’d expect from him. “He knows too much. He’s in a position of power that could destroy–everything I’m working for.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like having things held over me.”

“But he not holding it over you,” Leta argued. “He would never publish anything about what you’re doing. He believes in our cause, he’s on our side and he wants us to succeed.”

“And you’re so sure of that?”

“Yes!”

But Fiearius shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t trust him.”

“Why? Honestly? Because he knows about the Councillor initiative or because I’m sleeping with him?”

To her surprise, he admitted, “Maybe a bit of both.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but found herself slightly too stunned to manage it. Moments later, she collected herself. “Well. I’m not asking you to trust him. I’m asking you to trust me. And trust me, he’s on our side. And I would appreciate it if you would at least try to be nice to him.”

Leta almost thought he wouldn’t answer, the way he continued to stare at her across the hallway, silent and stoic. But to her great surprise, the stubborn, impossible man she’d known for half a decade somehow, miraculously, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Alright, fine. I’ll play nice. If it’s that important to you.”

“It is.”

They exchanged a silent but meaningful look of agreement, and then Fiearius said, “C’mon. Should be this door over here.”

Leta followed Fiearius a few more feet and watched as he easily picked the lock on a grand white door which swung open to the guest room on the other side. Fiearius strode straight inside as Leta double-checked that no one was watching them.

The room was exactly what one would expect from the mansion. Huge, lavishly furnished with shining red wood cabinets and long flowing white curtains. It held the biggest bed Leta had ever seen and its doors opened up onto a balcony nearly larger than the room itself. The one thing it didn’t seem to contain was many personal items of its tenant. There was a small bag in the corner and a tablet sitting on the desk, but otherwise you might not have known there was someone staying here at all.

“Well, you did know it’d be unlikely you’d find anything,” Leta told Fiearius who already looked disappointed. After she’d said it, however, determination masked his face.

“Don’t give up just yet,” he said, crossing over to the desk to pick up the tablet. He turned it over in his hand and switched it on, a blue glow lighting his face.

Leta rested her hands on her hips. “You don’t really think he’d be that stupid.”

“Of course not,” Fiearius said, scanning through the device. “Check the bag.”

This whole escapade was starting to feel a bit idiotic. Of course they weren’t going to find anything. What had she been thinking? Falling, not for the first time, for Fiearius’ dramatic flair instead of trusting her gut. Still, she did as she was told, approaching the bag, crouching before it and delicately poking at the opening. It looked like what she’d expect. Some clothing. Toiletries. Normal things that normal, if rich, people carried with them while traveling.

“Fiear, we should go back downstairs.”

“In a minute,” was his distracted answer across the room.

Leta stood up and glanced back at him. “You’re supposed to be raising money for the war. That’s more important than rooting around in some poor guy’s belongings.”

“Hang on.”

“If he is a Councillor, and I’m beginning to think he’s not, you’re not gonna find out here.” She moved over to him and tried to take the tablet from his hand, but he resisted, his eyes fixed on the screen. “What–”

“You’re right,” Fiearius said, sounding a little numb. “He’s not a Councillor.” When Leta just narrowed her eyes at him, lost, he turned the screen towards her where a message was blazed onto its face. She read it hurriedly, ready to scold him and drag him back downstairs. But then she read it again, more thoroughly. And one more time.

Finally, she looked up at Fiearius, her eyes wide and her stomach suddenly tied into a knot.

Fiearius met her stare. “He’s an assassin.”

“I wonder,” said Leta suddenly, “the kind of fundraising you could be doing right now if you were talking to investors instead?”

“Well I wonder how our investors are going to feel knowing you brought a shark into their midst, eh?”

“Shark?” Liam repeated with a laugh. “I’ve published nothing but good things about the war effort and our allies. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Yet.”

“Well, Admiral,” Liam laughed, but his face was dark, murky, “Can’t say I know what I’ve done to offend you — “

“Nothing,” Leta interrupted, her gaze ice cold. “You’ve done nothing wrong. And you don’t have to answer to him. Let’s go find your banker — even that’s more worthwhile than this conversation.”

Leta gazed him one last cold glare before slipping to Liam’s side, taking her drink, and disappearing into the crowd of people. Fiearius watched them go, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a long sip. Well that hadn’t gone as he’d planned. Oh well. He had things to take care of anyway. Ignoring the group of guests waiting to talk to him, he wandered off.

—–

This wasn’t Leta’s favorite way to spend an evening, but she was prepared to grin and bear it if it meant helping the war effort. Which was how she found herself at a round banquet table with six other strangers, eating dinner, drinking champagne, and currently forcing a laugh at someone’s joke that wasn’t funny. Anything to fundraise.

At her side, Liam was deep in conversation with an older man, discussing the state of media these days (“The Society has their hand in almost everything,” Liam was saying, “but they’ve inadvertently made room for independent journalists to break through the noise.”) While he was talking, he caught her eye and half-smiled.

Leta waited for a pause in the conversation before leaning her shoulder against his. “Hey,” she said quietly. “About earlier. At the bar.”

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but Liam brushed his hand sideways dismissively. “Don’t worry about that,” he whispered back.

“Really though,” she insisted. “I probably should have mentioned before. Fiear–Admiral Soliveré and I have a bit of…history.”

He looked more amused than surprised. “You don’t say.”

“I’m really sorry. He had no right to be such an ass to you.”

“It’s not your fault, Leta, really. Lots of people don’t like journalists. I’ve read the articles, he has a lot of cause to not like journalists. Hell, I don’t like journalists.” But it wasn’t just because he was a journalist, Leta thought privately, but Liam went on, “I can handle a little backlash from Soliveré.” His lips pulled back into a grin as he leaned in closer to add softly, “But if it’s bothering you, why don’t you make it up to me later tonight?” He squeezed her knee warmly under the table, and Leta finally felt herself relax.

She turned back to the table and engaged in a conversation with an older woman. Leta asked about her life and promptly forgot everything she was told, they covered a brief praise of recent Carthian victories, and then, just as the woman was asking her about medical school, Leta was suddenly interrupted. By Fiearius. Again. He materialized at her side and then jerked his head sideways and said, “Come here.”

“What?” Leta set her drink down, hard, with a bit of a thud. She lowered her voice. Hopefully he would leave before anyone noticed he’d arrived. “No, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“I’m in the middle of dinner,” she hissed.

“So? Come on.”

Leta could feel that they were attracting attention. The table grew quiet, and the woman at her right side was blatantly staring between them, her mouth hanging open. Fiearius glared at her briefly before focusing in on Leta.

“It’s important,” he grunted. “Trust me.”

He caught her eye meaningfully and then turned on his heel and stalked off, clearly expecting her to follow. Well she had no intention of doing that. After the way he’d acted earlier? She had no intention of spending any more of her evening arguing with this man. But–what the hell was so urgent? Leta sat there, torn and angry, before she finally —

“Excuse me,” she said, mustering a smile and rising from her chair, dropping her napkin back on the table.  “I’ll be right back.”

Liam arched his eyebrows at her in clear disbelief.

“It’ll just take a minute,” she added, and then she went after Fiearius. He was waiting near the dance floor, and Leta hissed under her breath, “What the hell is the matter with you? This better be important — “

“Oh, it is,” Fiearius assured her. Then he took her wrists and started to draw her onto the dance floor.

Immediately, Leta dug in her feet, pulling her forearms back. “That’s what you dragged me away for? To dance with me?” She tore her hands away. “No, absolutely not. How dare you? I’m not here for –”

“Come on, I need a place no one can eavesdrop.” He tilted his head towards the clusters of people around them, in direct earshot. And then towards the dance floor, where people were traversing the space quickly, sparsely and under the spell of a song.

Leta groaned. Well, he had a point.

“Make it quick,” she snapped.

Leta put her palm on his shoulder, and his hand went to her hip, drawing her closer. Too close, like it was the old days. Before they could get too comfortable (Liam must have been in shock at the point), she muttered, “Well?”

When he didn’t answer, Leta was convinced that there really wasn’t any important news, he had just made it up to tear her away the table. She was just about to pull away sharply when he answered in her ear, “There’s a Councillor here.”

Leta’s whole body tensed. Her palm tightened on his shoulder. “What?! How do you know?”

“Gates gave me the guest list this morning. Told me to research the investors a little, y’know? Make sure I know who’s who,” Fiearius explained. “Most of them were just rich Carthians, as you’d expect, but there was one. One that stood out.”

He turned her around expertly, her skirt billowed out around her ankles. “The majority of these people, they have these long family histories. This guy? Just showed up about twenty years ago. No history before that. No family. Just…appeared. Around the time the Society first took a holding in Synechdan.” He lifted his brows indicatively. “I know the Synechdan Councillor was at one point involved in Carthian politics. Dez says he had insider info no one who hadn’t been involved could have. So how good of a cover, hm? Pull off your fake Councillor death, create a new identity and then use your knowledge to insert yourself in your enemy’s upper crust?”

It was a good cover, Leta had to admit. But, “Doesn’t that seem kind of risky? For a Councillor?”

“It does,” Fiearius agreed, “But if he can pass along details of Carthian war plans? Wouldn’t it be worth the risk?”

“Not if it’s that easy to uncover it,” Leta argued. “Surely someone else could pick up on the lack of history and–”

“And assume he’s just new money trying to hide it to save face,” Fiearius finished for her. “I talked to a very nice gossipy group of ladies. They all know. And they all have theories. But none of them are ‘secret Society Councillor undercover’, believe me.”

“Then how do you know those other explanations aren’t true? Aren’t they more likely?”

Fiearius just shook his head. “I’ve got a feeling. Maybe I’m wrong, but it all fits. And I want to check it out.” When she frowned in confusion, he elaborated, “He’s staying in the mansion for the week. Got a room in the guest quarters upstairs. I’m gonna investigate.”

Now, Leta was shaking her head. “Fiear, even if he is a Society Councillor, what exactly do you expect to find just lying around his room for someone to discover?”

“No idea, but if I’m right? This may be my only chance to find this guy. I have to take it. I have to at least try.” He squeezed the hand that he held as they danced. “You with me?”

Leta hesitated. It sounded farfetched at best, downright foolish at worst. But despite all logic telling her otherwise, there was something in Fiearius’ tenacity that made her question her own sense. After all, what if he was onto something? It really wasn’t a chance they could pass up. So going against all her better judgment, she nodded. “Alright. Let’s look into it.”

—————-

Unfortunately, investigating the man wasn’t quite as straightforward as Fiearius had made it sound. After failing to gain access to the upper level of the mansion from three different access points (the guards employed for the evening apparently wouldn’t even sway for an admiral and his questionable need to use the upstairs lavatory), Leta was quite certain it just wasn’t going to happen.

Fiearius, as always, had other ideas.

“Would you hurry up?” Leta hissed under her breath, folding her arms tight over her chest to combat the nighttime chill. She peeked around the corner into the still empty courtyard and the busy ballroom through the windows beyond and then looked up at the dark figure of the man carefully climbing the trellis up to the balcony. “What if someone sees you?”

“Isn’t that why you’re keeping lookout?” Fiearius whispered back. The trellis creaked as he moved further up the wall.

“Just–can’t you go any faster?”

Corra found herself pausing at the edge of the table. She was crouched in position, ready to launch herself out the door the moment the opportunity afforded itself. And it had. Now was her moment. But she hesitated.

“So we’re going to move on then?” the other voice asked.

“No.” There was a pause. “Not yet. If we move on now, our budget for the project will be cut and we’ll be sent back to the frontlines. I don’t know about you, but given a choice, I’d rather be here excavating a dirt pit than on the Ascendian battlefront.” Another pause before she added, “No, we’ll stay here until we manage to figure out our next step in the mission.”

“You think they’ll wait that long?”

The woman laughed. “Of course they will. If we find this thing? If it does what they say it does? If it even exists? It’ll be the most significant machine in the history of the Span. They’ll wait lifetimes as long as there’s hope. I guarantee it.”

Corra felt her heart still. The most important machine in history? It sounded like–well, it sounded like, in Cyrus’ words, bull’s butt. Even so, though, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just stumbled onto something huge.

Before she convinced herself to linger once again, Corra shook the thoughts from her head, remembering instead the face of Cy and Addy’s little girl who needed to get out of this place and get home. She took a silent deep breath, braced herself and then slipped silently out from under the table and through the door before anyone was all the wiser to her presence.

Corra had never wanted to get back to the Spirit so badly.

————————

“It really wasn’t that bad,” Addy was telling Alyx as they sat around one of the Beacon’s dining tables over drinks and dinner. They’d arrived back on the ship only an hour ago, but already things were starting to feel more normal to Finn than ever. Their old crew back together again. Getting along. Enjoying a meal. This, more than anything else, was what he’d missed.

“More boring than anything else,” Cyrus added, bouncing Kalli on his knee.

Alyx, who had bunkered down to listen to what she’d thought would be a dramatic story, failed to hide her disappointment. “Well I’m glad you’re alright,” she tried and Addy smiled at her. “So we should take you back to Archeti then? I’m sure they’ve missed you.”

But then, Addy hesitated. “Mm yeah, I suppose so.” She shared a glance with Cyrus who, Finn couldn’t help but notice, didn’t look exactly contented by the answer.

“Not that we’d mind keeping you around, of course,” put in Daelen from across the table.

“Oh yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you have to leave,” Alyx added hurriedly. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. Just, if you want to go back, we can take you, I mean–”

“It’s fine,” Addy laughed, holding up her hand and shaking her head. “I get it. And yeah, I don’t know.” Again, a furtive glance at Cyrus, whose expression had gone suspiciously blank. “Maybe we’ll stick around a little bit? It’s kinda nice being with everyone again. It’s been so long, y’know?” She nudged her stone-faced boyfriend affectionately. “Right?”

Cyrus mumbled something in response, but Finn stopped paying attention to whatever marital troubles were playing out in front of him. Instead, he looked around the table. Alyx, Daelen, Cai, Addy, himself, they were all here, but–

There was one face missing from the scene. It couldn’t be. Corra was gone.

She’d just been here a moment ago, he was sure of it. She’d said something about how nice of an attic Addy’s friend had and then — How did she slip away so quickly? And more importantly, how far had she gone?

“Be right back,” Finn muttered as he slipped out of his chair and headed for the main hallway. He knew where she’d gone without even a second thought. The way she’d been acting the past few days? It was no mystery. He had been fully aware that the moment no eyes were on her, she’d try and make her escape. He just hadn’t thought she’d manage to have no eyes on her in the middle of a crew dinner…But now, the only question was whether or not he’d get there in time before she succeeded.

Finn quickened his pace.

Fortunately, for all of her skills and sneaking, when he rounded the corner into the side airlock, he wasn’t met with an empty room and a sealed door, but the sight of Corra herself leaned against the wall beside her ship, fiddling with some sort of tube in her hands. When she heard him enter, she glanced up.

“That took longer than I expected,” she pointed out with a smirk.

Finn pretended he wasn’t as out of breath as he was. “You were waiting for me?”

Corra lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I’ve already wronged you enough. Figured leaving without saying goodbye wouldn’t be the best move if I ever want forgiveness.”

For a moment, Finn was stunned into silence. Forgiveness?

“Corra, I –” he began, but she stepped forward and swiftly pressed her finger to his lips to silence him.

“Please don’t,” she said. “Just–It was really good to see you. Take care of the ship. Take care of the crew. Please don’t try and sell her again.” She narrowed her eyes on him. “She’s yours and she’s Alyx’s and she’s all of these people’s, no one else’s. I don’t want to see her with anyone else. Do that for me at least.”

Her finger drew away and he said, “Of course. But Corra–”

“And make sure Cy and Addy are okay,” she went on. “They’re not right now. But they need to be. For that beautiful little girl’s sake at the very least.”

“I don’t really know if I can–”

“And hug Leta when you see her,” she spoke over him. Was she — no, those couldn’t be the slight glint of tears in the corners of her eyes. “And tell her I miss her and I’ll try to be in touch soon. And–”

“Corra.” Finn cut her off, taking her hand in his. “Why don’t you hug Leta when you see her? Why don’t you help Cy and Addy? Why don’t you look after this ship?”

She was already shaking her head and tugging her hand from his grip. He didn’t loosen it. “I have things to take care of, Riley. I have to go.”

“You can take care of those things here,” Finn insisted. “You want to research this, right?” He reached down and plucked the metal tube from her hand. “We can help. We can do that on the Beacon.”

Corra let out a sharp laugh. “And risk those bounty hunters after you? No way.”

Finn rolled his eyes dramatically. “Bounty hunters? Really? You think we’re afraid of a few bounty hunters?”

“They’re pretty nasty…” Corra muttered and he raised a skeptical brow. “Riley, I’m not staying. I have my own life now, my own missions, my own tasks, I’m not bringing those down on the Beacon. What we all had before? The pirating and the stealing and all that? After what came from that? How many lives were –” She shook her head again. “No. That chapter is over.”

“Right,” Finn agreed, releasing her hand at last. “That chapter is over.” She was glaring at the floor now so he reached over and lifted her chin with his index finger til their eyes met. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t start a new one.”

Corra’s eyes went a little wide. Finn’s hand dropped to his side and he smiled at her knowingly. Without another word, he turned from the room and headed back into the hallway. He didn’t need to look back once more. There was no hurry, he knew.

The Spirit would still be here come morning.

“Oh god, Cy, she’s adorable,” Corra said as she straightened up and her friend approached her. As emotional as she felt, she still laughed a watery laugh as she put her arms around him and asked, “How are you her father?”

Cyrus chuckled against her temple as he wrapped her in his embrace. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Cy-Cy,” she chimed, moving her hand to his cheek as they broke away.

To their side, Finn cleared his throat. “Not to be cliche, but –” He nodded towards the window where the sun was starting to set over the horizon.

“Right,” Corra agreed, separating herself from Cyrus. “We should get a move on. Not much time.” And if this plan were to go right, the timing would have to be precise.

Cyrus and Addy exchanged glances. “A move on what, exactly?” Cyrus asked. “There’s at least three dozen agents around here, who knows how many more on that ship. They don’t know we’re here, I doubt they’ll turn a blind eye on the two newcomers smuggling out three mysterious cloaked figures.”

“Who said anything about cloaks?” was Finn’s amused response.

Addy rolled her eyes and muttered, “Point being, what’s the plan? How can we leave without anyone noticing? Is there some secret passage we don’t know about?”

“Not at all,” Corra answered, strolling over to the window to look outside. Her eyes scanned over the agents working around the dig site, the few hovering by the path and finally settled on their ship, down in the main docking area. “We’ll walk right out through the front door.”

The answer didn’t seem to calm any fears. “Sorry, let me just clarify this,” Cyrus said, slowly this time. “We’re going out the front door. And there are…no cloaks?”

“None.” Corra tapped her fingers against the wood frame of the window. “You all ready on my mark?”

There was a shuffle of nerves and dismay behind her. “I–I guess, but–” Addy began, just as the grey metal beast parked down the hill wailed an awful bellow so loud the ground beneath the house trembled. Behind her, Kalli shrieked, Eriaas muttered, “What the–” and below, she saw every Society agent look up from what they were doing, abandon their post and take off in a sprint towards the ship.

Corra grinned and looked back at her entourage. “Then let’s go.”

——————–

Minutes later, after a scramble to collect as many of Kalli’s things as they all (mostly Finn) could carry, the group was hurrying down the stairs and Cyrus, as always, was questioning everything.

“So it’s a drill? Like an emergency drill?”

“They’re required to run them every so often, whenever their fleet’s higher-ups demand,” Finn explained in Corra’s stead as she crept down the last few steps and peered into the hallway. Just in case. Many years and many escapes had taught her the hard way that it was better to be safe than sorry. Fortunately, the drill seemed to have done the job. The hall was clear. She moved ahead.

“So you just found out when they were going to have one?” Cyrus, ever nervous, checked for himself before following after her. Kalli was clutched in his arms, clinging to his neck. “And planned to rescue us at the same time?”

“No, no, as far as we knew there were none scheduled,” Finn replied. “But this one–” Corra felt him gesturing at her– “Somehow got a message through the channels that they’re supposed to.”

For perhaps the first time in history, Cyrus looked impressed at Corra’s ability to use technology. “How’d you manage that?”

There wasn’t  time to explain how she’d managed it. How she’d freed the mother of a man who had a connection in the right place to give her access to the right system to allow her to falsify her credentials and request an emergency drill of this particular ship at this particular time to allow just enough of a distraction to execute an extraction mission. So she just shrugged and said, “I have my ways.”

Cyrus didn’t seem satisfied, but they continued through the house, Corra scouting ahead to make sure they were in the clear every step of the way. It seemed the plan had worked. There were no agents in sight. Protocol dictated there shouldn’t be. In the event of an emergency drill, all crew had to be on the ship following their designated emergency duties. In theory, they wouldn’t see a soul until they were safely away from here and back on the Beacon.

But as Corra traversed the last few steps into the foyer, something caught her eye. A brief flicker of movement. It wasn’t, she realized quickly and with a heavy sigh of relief, a living being. No, just a hologram spinning slowly over the long table those agents had been huddled around when she’d come in.

Still, it kept her attention a moment longer than it should have. She didn’t even know what it was. Some bizarre machine unlike any she was familiar with. A long thick tube extended from a series of three domes side by side. Out of the tube were more, skinnier tubes reaching for the sky. It looked ancient and strange, but it struck a chord and she suddenly had to know.

“What are they looking for here?”

Cyrus waved the question off, as though it was unimportant. “Oh just some old legendary machine.” He gestured into the room her stare was fixed on. “The Transmitter or something? Sounds like a load of bulls–” He stopped himself as he remembered that his daughter’s ear was just inches from his mouth. “Bull’s butt?” he corrected hesitantly, earning a devious giggle from Kalli and a glare from Addy.

Corra, however, had stopped paying attention, frozen on the precipice of that room as the word stuck in her head. Transmitter? There was no way that could be related to the ancient device she currently had in her possession, the Transmission. And yet, there was no way it couldn’t be. Either coincidence was too unlikely.

“Finn?” she called, her voice still hushed out of precaution. “Get them to the ship. I’ll be right there.” He probably would have liked to argue, but she didn’t give him, or anyone else, the chance. If the Span was sending her a sign, and surely it must have been, she would be a fool not to look. She slipped into the room and approached the hologram.

It looked even more confounding up close. Intricate patterns entwined around the machine. Wires sidled out from its base. Corra couldn’t tell from the hologram itself whether it was small or massive. But there was something about it that rang familiar to the strange little tube stowed away in the Spirit.

She stared at it a moment longer before finally she was able to drag her focus down to the tablet left abandoned in front of it. Well, whatever was on there couldn’t hurt to have, right? Without second-guessing herself, she slipped her CID out of her pocket, slotted it into the input port and let it do its thing. Data-mining CID functionality was another thing there was rarely time to explain.

The little light on the device turned green just moments later, letting her know it was ready to go. “Thanks, Society,” she mumbled in a sing-song voice as she removed the CID and shoved it back into her coat. “I’ll just take this and–”

Suddenly, a voice broke out somewhere behind her. Corra jumped and spun around, but thank god, there was no one in the room. Judging by how quickly that voice was growing louder, however, there soon would be.

Her eyes darted to the door that she’d come through. Her exit. Just as two others, others she only needed to identify by the thick black libreras on their skin, entered it.

Corra was under the table before the women even had a chance to glimpse the room.

“–you sure they don’t need us on the ship? It is a drill,” one was saying nervously, glancing back at the door.

“Don’t worry,” said the other with an air of authority. “Taigen can run it. He’s done it a thousand times. It’s just bureaucratic nonsense.”

“If you say so…”

The longer Corra stayed here, the more chances she was giving them to discover her. The women had moved all the way into the room, leaving her doorway wide open. If she was quick, if she stayed low, she could slip out. She just had to be fast. And silent. And–

“It’s becoming increasingly clear to me that the Transmitter isn’t here,” said the voice above her. “The archives, as a whole, aren’t here. We would have picked up a signature by now. The terraform hasn’t altered enough to cover anything deeper.”