The woman let out a thoughtful, “Mmmm,” and then a moment later, “Military then, huh?” and the comment, mixed with the flood of daylight as the ship picked up speed and soared out into the open air, made him wince. “So this is how Carthis funds its misguided war. Interesting.”

Part of him wanted to argue. No, he had nothing to do with Carthis’ war. Nor was this how that war operated. In fact, some of his best friends were part of that war and — but he stopped himself. Why should he defend himself to some half-rate day-hire pilot?

“Well whatever you’re trained on, Carthy, see those people over there?” She pointed towards the grandstands. “They still think I’m flying this ship so try not to embarrass me with your sloppy sailing alright?”

Finn let out a sharp laugh. “Sloppy? Excuse me?”

Suddenly, she was no longer in the back of the room, but at his side looking out the window. “Hey,” he snapped, letting go of the controls for just a moment to reach for his gun, but she didn’t make any aggressive motions.

“As far as they’re concerned, I missed my first cue, and…” She waited a beat and added, “Now I missed my second. You’re screwing up the Pykas, clearly.” She pointed upwards where Finn could see two smaller ships wavering awkwardly, unsure. “This thing was choreographed to every detail and now here you are, here I am just plowing across the field like an amateur.”

“Look, lady, I ain’t really concerned with your image right now,” Finn grumbled, picking up speed a little. “Now get back to–”

“Not concerned about your image either I guess,” she muttered indignantly. “You Carthy’s are all the damn same. All talk, no flair.”

“I’m not a–” Finn began, but shut his mouth, clenching his jaw. He narrowed his eyes and gripped the controls tighter.

——————

Cai didn’t want to pick up a serving tray and start handing out tiny sandwiches to the Ellegian elite, but when he’d approached the back of the event and an older ally had shoved it into his hands, he didn’t really have much of a choice. There was a time when this had come terribly naturally to him. There was work to be done, he would do it, without even a second thought. But five years into his freedom, that was no longer the case and his urge to drop the thing and walk away in a huff was strong.

Still, he had a job to do. Even if it was a shitty job. A shitty job exploiting his somewhat painful history. At least this time he was behind the cause. Helping Corra wasn’t the worst reason to assume an identity he’d rather not be associated with any longer. No, stealing a crate of what turned out to be protein bars. That was the worst. The very memory made his spine tingle with unspoken resentment. He didn’t offer Alyx a sandwich when he passed her in the crowd.

Only when he’d done a full pass through the thoroughfare did he get the chance he was looking for. He hadn’t spotted Corra herself. Who knew if she was even here? But if someone had any idea, it would be Ranson Lars’ help and one particular young woman with a cropped ear and plain brown-grey dress was just the kind of source he needed.

Casually, he strolled up to where she stood by the far wall and leaned against it. She was watching the crowd dutifully, a little nervous he could tell. She seemed new to all this, fresh-faced and scared that any moment something terrible might happen. Which was why he kept his tone cheerful when he said, “Fun party, huh?”

She cast him a sideways glance, confused. When he smiled back at her knowingly, she let out a short-lived chuckle. “Yeah. Fun.”

“You working for Lars?” he asked as though simply curious. The terminology wasn’t right, he knew. She knew it too, by the look on her face, but Cai refused to use phrases like ‘belong to’ and ‘owned by’ anymore.

“Yeah,” she answered, the weight of what that meant heavy in her voice. “You’re one of the guests’?”

Cai let out a short bitter grunt. “You could say that.” And then, he decided to take his chance. He tilted his head at her and asked, “Hey, do you know about the Conduit?”

At once, he saw her tense and too quickly, she blurted out, “The what?”

“You know, the Conduit,” he said again, quieter. “I heard they sent an agent to help Lars’ people.”

Now, she looked downright terrified. “I have no idea what you’re talking a–”

Cai turned against the wall to face her. “Listen, I need to talk to her. The agent. It’s really important,” he insisted, but she was starting to move away.

“I’m sorry, sir, I really don’t know what you–”

Before she could slip back into the crowd, Cai reached out and grasped her wrist. “Please,” he begged, giving her his most desperate expression. “Please, I need her help. I need your help. You have to tell me where she is if you know. I’m begging you.”

The woman looked conflicted. Almost as conflicted as Cai felt for lying to this poor woman about his situation. But his guilt was something he’d have to face later as finally, thank god, her expression changed from scared to questioning to pitying.

“Okay, okay,” she relented, stepping closer to him and lowering her voice to a whisper. “She’s here. She usually hangs around Mr. Lars though, does the bigger tasks, she doesn’t wait tables or anything like the rest of us.” Her eyes darted behind her for a moment before she added, ever lower, “She has a plan. She’s gonna get us out and to the Conduit. Soon, she says. Very soon. I–I don’t know if she can help you, but–” She looked him up and down and frowned, apologetic, “Good luck.”

As if he didn’t already feel terrible about his fabrication, she seized his arm and squeezed it in solidarity before she slipped away. Cai was left standing with his empty tray, feeling awful. Why had he agreed to do this again?

Right, because Corra was here and she was in danger and he was going to find her. He drew a deep breath, tossed the gold-plated tray into the nearest garbage bin and marched back into the crowd, but not before glancing out at the arena where a compact transport ship was pulling elaborate flips through the air.

———————

Wisps of white cloud flew past the window as the ship careened into the bright blue sky. Below, the crowd in the grandstands looked like miniscule, colorful dots. Really, it was a fantastic day for flying, and under normal circumstances, Finn would have really enjoyed the chance to show off before he flew away with this fancy prototype.

But he could barely enjoy himself. He had something of a nag barking orders behind him.

“Now pull her back and give ‘em a good roll,” said the pilot, leaned over him, her arm on the back of his chair.

Finn grumbled his annoyance at her, but it wasn’t a bad idea so he did as he was told, yanking the controls back and holding on tight as the ship hurtled itself through the air. But just to prove his point, immediately after, he pushed the controls the opposite direction and flipped her around in a dramatic turn to add some flair.

Beside him, his flying companion let out a raucous laugh, clapping her hand on his shoulder. “You’re better than I thought, Carthy! Got some skills after all.”

“I already said,” Finn muttered as he tilted the ship once more, “I’m not a–”

She nodded slowly, but didn’t seem satisfied. “And?” she prompted. And? What else — “You also said I should get off at the next stop.”

Ah, right, he thought. That.

“And if you ever did, I’d be dead in an hour,” admitted Finn, smirking slightly. “Alyx, you’re the only reason this boat hasn’t sunk. I’m sorry for what I said. Real, real sorry.”

She eyed him for a few more moments, sizing him up, debating whether or not he deserved her forgiveness and frankly Finn couldn’t blame her if her answer was no. But finally, thank god, he saw her expression lose its hard edge. “And I’m sorry for snapping,” she said. “But Finn, I’m just looking out for you, y’know.”

“I know. And thank god you are. Here — I brought a peace offering.” He dropped into a seat across from her and presented two beer bottles he’d stolen from the kitchen. Bending one against the edge of the console screen, he cracked it open and passed it over.

She accepted, curling her fingers around the neck of the bottle, but not without fixing him one last look of warning.

“Don’t talk to me like that ever again, alright?”

“Never,” Finn agreed, and they clinked bottles.

She tilted the bottle to her lips and they drank, peaceful at last. When she brought it away, she asked quietly, “So, how did it go with Raisa?”

Finn lifted his brows, considering the last two hours of his life and where in the story he should start. After the part with the guns, he decided firmly. She could find that out from someone else. Preferably when he was in another room.

“It was interesting. She gave me a bit of insight into what Corra’s been doing for her,” he explained, also choosing to leave out what that was exactly for now. If the notion made him shudder, he couldn’t imagine Alyx taking it much better. “And she said she can’t get in contact with her. But. Apparently she’s with a guy named Ranson Lars.”

He tried not to notice Alyx narrowing her eyes at him a little. “That so?”

Okay, so she knew where this was going. Hesitantly, he went on, “So. We’re going to figure out where this guy is and –”

He didn’t even finish the sentence before she let out a groan. “Finn…”

“Alyx,” Finn groaned back, sinking back in his chair. “You don’t understand, she’s in danger, we have to–”

“Finn, we’re in danger,” she interrupted sharply. “We’re running low on fuel, on food, I’ve got three crew members asking to be let off at the next terminal because they haven’t been paid in–”

“Wait, which crew members?” he suddenly wanted to know. “How come I don’t know about this?”

She blinked at him incredulously. “Really? Do you honestly need me to answer that?” She sighed. “Look, Finn, I care about Corra as much as you do and if she’s in trouble, of course I want to do something, but we need work. We need to get paid.”

“Right, well–” Finn looked around the room, desperate for an argument to come to him. It didn’t. “We will be.” When she only narrowed her eyes further, he added, “Eventually.”

Alyx let out another long groan and put her head in her hands. “Eventually isn’t good enough.” Sitting up straight again, she gestured to her console. “Look, I even got a job specifically for you! I talked to this guy who’s willing to pay a lot of credits for anyone who brings him nice little ships.” She tilted her head at him and smiled like a mother might smile at a fussy child she wanted to calm down. “You like stealing ships, c’mon.”

“Sure,” Finn muttered, fixing her with an irritated glare, “But I don’t really appreciate that tone–” But before they could reprimand one another once more, something struck him. Alyx wanted him to steal them a ship to sell. And Corra…Corra was undercover with one of Ellegy’s top ship manufacturers.

Maybe there was an easier solution to this stalemate than he thought.

“Well maybe if you could treat your responsibility to this ship with–” Alyx was arguing when he held up a hand to her. She frowned and growled, “Don’t you try and–”

“Alyx,” he interrupted sharply, a smirk forming on his face. “Alright. I’ll do it. I’ll steal a ship for you.” When Alyx eyed him suspiciously, he just grinned. “And you can look for Corra.”

Finn couldn’t quite wrap his head around what he was hearing. He’d always suspected Corra of working with the Conduit in her absence, but he’d never imagined it in this form. The thought of her as someone’s slave, even for a short time, even for a good cause, made him sick to his stomach.

“I’ve tried to persuade her into work a little less dangerous,” Raisa went on, “But she’s insistent. And she’s good at it. With her help the last few years, we’ve freed more people than I ever thought possible. But–as long as she’s out there undercover, she’s out of reach. That’s why I can’t help you. I can’t contact her anymore than you can.”

Defeated and stunned, Finn took a few steps backwards and fell back onto the couch. Fortunately, Cai took over for him. “But she must be in contact right now. We know she was on Tarin, alone, just a few days ago.”

Raisa just shrugged. “I don’t know what she does or how she moves around,” she admitted. “All I know is if she was out of her cover, she would contact me.”

“Well when was the last time you spoke to her?” Cai pressed.

“A month or so ago.” Raisa looked over at her desk curiously. “She did…she did mention a name.”

And like that, Finn snapped back to attention. “What? What name?”

Hurriedly, Raisa crossed to her desk and started typing on her own console, searching for a message. Finn launched from his seat and huddled behind her shoulder to watch. And then, finally, there it was.

“I’m sending some frees–,” he read out of the message. “A new lead–Ranson Lars.” Finn read it again. “Ranson Lars…”

It meant nothing.

“Who’s that?” asked Cai.

“Rich ship manufacturer out of Ellegy,” Raisa answered. “Uses allies in most of his factories. ‘Getting people off the streets and into jobs’ he says.” She scoffed indignantly.

“You think she’s in one of those factories then?” asked Finn.

“Perhaps, but I doubt it. Her strategies in the past kept her close to the owner, not brushing along the bottom where she could be stomped out too easily.”

“So we find this Lars guy, we find Corra,” concluded Cai.

Raisa looked back at him. “No guarantees…But if it could save her…It’s worth a shot.”

—

After his talk with Raisa, Finn knew what he had to do. The path ahead was clear when he returned to the Beacon in the Conduit’s hangar (fortunately not pursued by angry guards this time). He’d find this man Corra had supposedly sold herself to and he’d warn her about whatever it was she had stolen and, if she allowed it, he’d help her finish her mission so she wouldn’t have to even falsely ‘belong’ to someone for one more day.

Unfortunately, to do that, he was likely going to need some help. After hearing the entire exchange, Cai seemed to be on his side at least. That was one. And Daelen wouldn’t be hard to convince with Cai’s support. But there was still one last member of the Beacon’s Unofficial Leadership Committee whose support he needed desperately.

Dragging his feet, Finn forced himself upstairs to the bridge. It was quiet and empty save for Alyx, who sat at one of the consoles, poring over a map and typing into a keypad at the same time. Doing her dutiful tasks as navigator, nay, interim captain, he thought with a pang of guilt — as she always did.

With more confidence than he felt, he said, “Hey, Alyx,” as though they hadn’t been on strict non-speaking terms for the past few days and in fact this was the most casual of conversations. “Can I talk to you?”

Alyx spared him a short, cool once-over. Then she bent her head over the screen again and said nothing. Right, the cold shoulder. After what he’d said to her, he knew he deserved it.

“Stop a second, would ya?” he sighed, crossing the room to stand beside her. “I’d like to apologize.”

Expressionless, Alyx looked up at him. “Oh really?” she asked, venom in her tone. “About time.”

“It’s overdue,” Finn agreed, wincing. “I’m sorry, alright?”

Alyx regarded him for a moment and then leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Sorry for what?” she asked patiently. She had the upper hand and hell, she knew it.

Finn drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry I dismissed you. I’m sorry I said you’re not in charge of the ship when we all know you practically are.”

“Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t,” Fiearius growled, “Who are you? How long have you been — “

But he had no chance to find out. The next person to yell was Leta.

“Fiearius, no!” she cried. “Let him go — I know him!”

Shocked but compliant, Fiearius released his hold on the intruder, but none too gently. The man dropped to his knees with a thud, freed but groaning in pain and annoyance.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Leta demanded of him. “Why are you following us?”

“Put your guns away and I’ll tell you,” said the man darkly, massaging his bruised neck and throwing a dirty look toward Fiearius as he rose up to his feet. “Look, sorry I startled you. I didn’t want to follow you. I’ve been ordered to.”

“By who?” said Ren, while Fiearius growled, “Enough excuses, who the fuck are — ”

“All of you, calm down,” Leta snapped, brandishing a hand in the air. She stepped in front of Fiearius, effectively blocking him from —

“His name is Liam Andrews,” Leta sighed. “He’s a war journalist here on Vescent.”

Fiearius narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him. He looked to be in his young thirties, with overgrown brown hair and a beard. His clothes had once been upscale but were faded and weathered, like he’d been traveling a long way or hiding out. And even though Fiearius was the one with the loaded weapon in his hand, Liam was watching Leta most attentively, and suddenly the pieces clicked together in his head.

Fiearius snapped his head towards Leta. “This is your journalist?”

“What? He’s not my anything,” she scoffed. “What are you doing here, Liam?”

“I said, I didn’t want to follow you, it’s my job to watch over this part of Vescent. I camp out here, away from the base, to see what the rebels are up to. My editor makes me follow anyone suspicious. Trust me,” He grinned wryly. “It’s not exactly my ideal scenario either, but no one worries about the safety of a war reporter. Leta, I saw you out here, and honestly thought you were being forced here, that you were in trouble.”

“That’s usually a fair assumption,” said Leta dryly. “But no, I’m fine. Liam, this is Fiearius — “

“I know who he is,” Liam snorted.

“And this is Ren. And now you need to leave. We can walk you out, but then you’re on your own, and we’re going to pretend this never  — ”

But Fiearius held up his hand to interrupt, his mind suddenly racing. He’d been here the whole time? Had he heard about the journal? The code? Had he heard Ren mention the plan to assassinate the Councillors? A feeling of dread started sinking through him. Those plans–so much of the war rested on those plans remaining secret. If word got out that Carthis, that Fiearius, had found the trail of the Society Council, it would be for naught.

“How long have you been following us?” Fiearius demanded.

Liam lifted his eyebrows. “Not long.”

Fiearius dropped his voice to a dangerous growl. “How. Long?”

He hesitated, and then said, “I caught up to you right after you left the Carthian-secured area. I heard you were heading to the library.”

Which meant he’d heard it all, Fiearius realized with horror. Everything they’d said since they walked in those doors. The book, the cipher, the plan, all of it. A journalist had overheard them. He could think of no worse scenario.

“Listen, Admiral,” Liam continued, his voice steady, “if it’s a matter of what I’ve heard, we can discuss it.”

But it couldn’t be discussed. This man wasn’t just an intrepid reporter chasing a lead, he was a liability. A huge liability that could cripple all of Fiearius’ efforts. It could put the Councillors out of his reach entirely. Victory, out of the rebellion’s reach.

This was Fiearius’ job, wasn’t it? Why Gates had brought him into this war at all. It was his job to make the hard choices, act quicker and more decisively than Carthis could manage. Deal with things others would not. This man, or this man’s boss, had made an unintended mistake, that was true. But it was Fiearius’ duty to ensure that mistake never left this room.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, tightened his jaw and lifted his hand, but before his fingers even brushed the grip of his gun, Leta’s voice broke through his daze.

“Fiear!” she snapped sharply and when he met her stare, blazing on him intensely, he knew that she knew exactly what he was thinking. They watched each other for a long, tense moment, neither of  them speaking a word, but understanding one another clearly. And suddenly he knew he couldn’t do it. Not with her standing there. His hand dropped back to his side.

“Liam,” she said quickly, turning towards him. “What you heard tonight…You have to understand, it can never get out, alright? It’s–it’s vital to the war effort. If anyone ever finds out, it could be…more disastrous than you’d imagine.”

“I won’t say anything, Leta. And I swear I won’t write about it. I have some integrity, and besides … I value my life — I’m not stupid enough to go up against you two.” He jerked his head toward Fiearius, his eyes still resting interestedly on Leta. More playfully, he muttered, “But, uh, does this mean you’ll agree to an interview?”

Leta sighed, half defeated, half amused. “Yes. Pretend none of this ever happened, and you’ll get your interview. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Apparently satisfied, Leta turned back to Fiearius, her mouth twitching toward an exasperated smirk. As if everything was okay now. All fixed. But as she said, “Let’s head back,” Fiearius couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing was okay, nothing was fixed. As he brought up the rear behind them, he could only hope that his weakness here and now wouldn’t give way to a landslide later.