“Oh, Cyrus,” Daelen said cheerfully when he noticed they had company. He turned off the sink and started wiping his hands. “Just give me a moment to finish up here and I’ll get out of your way.”

Cyrus, who had accidentally frozen on the precipice of the room, looked up at him in alarm. “Oh no, it’s alright, you don’t have to–”

But Daelen, he’d learned recently, was not someone to waste breath arguing with. “Nonsense, I’m sure you two have lots to talk about, I’ll give you your privacy,” he insisted, patting Cyrus on the shoulder as he marched straight past him out the door. “Come find me when you’re finished!”

As his footsteps died out, the room was left in silence as the two brothers seemed able to do nothing but stare at one another. Cyrus could hardly believe the man he was looking at now was the man he’d seen a week ago seemingly inches from death. Fiearius was alert, responsive, healt– well no, he still looked like shit. His face was pallid, deep circles surrounded his eyes, his already unruly hair had grown into an even more unruly mess and by the looks of it, he’d probably lost ten pounds in the past month. Healthy wasn’t the right description. But ‘not dead’ was enough to soothe Cyrus’ worry.

“So you’re talking now?” he mused finally, at last stepping into the room and making his way toward the bed.

Fiearius let out a laugh that turned into a cough. “Would you rather I go back to groaning my responses?” he asked, his voice wheezy and quiet.

“Maybe.” Cyrus nudged Fiearius’ feet out of the way and lifted himself to sit on the edge of the bed. “It was kind of a fun puzzle, figuring out what it was you were asking for.”

“Yeah,” Fiearius coughed. “A puzzle both of you kept getting wrong. I wanted morphine, not water.”

Cyrus chuckled and shrugged. “Sorry, two syllables, sounds the same. Work on your consonants next time.”

“Better yet,” Fiearius suggested, “Bypass ‘next time’ altogether.” He shook his head and ran his hands back through his greasy hair.

“Good idea,” Cyrus agreed, looking him over. “How’re you feeling?”

Fiearius paused to glare at him. “How do you think I’m feeling?” he grumbled. “I can tell you with absolute clarity that I have no intention of going through this again. Fool me once, shame on the Society, fool me twice, fuck that was a bad decision.”

“No, really? So you shouldn’t have taken Society drugs for six months and lied about it?” Cyrus gasped, putting his hand over his mouth in false shock. “I never would have guessed.”

The glare deepened and then broke away as Fiearius sighed. “I was just wondering how long it would take you to get around to scolding me.”

Cyrus couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “I’m not scolding you. I’m just pissed. I have a right to be pissed. My dumbass older brother nearly got himself killed because he was too proud and too stupid to ask for help.”

“Sounds like scolding,” Fiearius muttered under his breath and Cyrus battled a powerful urge to smack him.

“Y’know what, shut up,” he said instead, his voice sharp. “You’re lucky I’m even here. I could have just left you to deal with this on your own since you so clearly wanted to. I could have let you choke to death or starve or let your liver fail, but I didn’t. I spent the last month working my ass off to keep your crew together and your ship running and cleaning up your vomit and preventing you from cracking your head open every time you nearly fell on the floor so don’t you dare give me shit for that, shut the hell up.”

The infirmary fell deathly quiet as Cyrus’ words hung in the air. Fiearius was no longer looking at him, but down at his hands in his lap. Okay, it was a little harsh for a man only just recovering, but Cyrus didn’t take it back. He was used to Fiearius’ shitty attitude, he’d had it since he was born as far as Cyrus knew, but now? He was ungrateful now?

But finally, barely above a whisper, Fiearius asked, “Why did you?” His eyes flicked back up to him and now, they were full of guilt. “Why did you stick around? Why didn’t you just leave on the Beacon with the others?”

Cyrus felt his anger crack and start to crumble away of its own accord. He’d thought about it, leaving. For maybe a half second. But it had been swept away as soon as it had appeared. Leaving had never been an option he would truly consider.

“Because you’re my brother,” he answered at last. “And as stupid as you may be and as much as I may have wanted to, I can’t abandon you.” He met his eyes seriously for a moment and Fiearius looked back, all the pain and anguish and despair visible on his face. It was hard seeing him like this, perhaps even more hard than it had been a week ago. At least when he was sick, it was physical, quantifiable, fixable. This though…

Suddenly he felt a need to lighten the mood. “Besides,” he added, a cheerful lilt in his voice. “Your girl left you. Your friends hate you. And you just went through a month of what looked quite a bit like hell. That’s probably punishment enough. I don’t feel a need to add to it.”

Fiearius just stared at him blankly. “Thanks,” he decided was the appropriate answer. “I guess…”

“If there’s anything I’m still mad at you for,” Cyrus went on, shuffling to a more comfortable position on the bed, “it’s keeping me from Addy.”

Passing off whatever awkwardness was left in the room, Fiearius raised his brows in interest. “So that’s a thing then, is it? You and machine girl?”

Even though he’d brought it up, Cyrus felt himself go red with embarrassment nonetheless. It sounded different when Fiearius said it all accusatory like that. Especially with such established terms like ‘thing’. “W-well yeah? I think it’s a thing. I mean we talk every night. And — well I really like her.”

Fiearius cracked him a tired grin. “Good for you. So ya asked her to marry ya yet?”

Cyrus frowned. “No.”

“Ooh, taking this one slow, huh?”

He rolled his eyes. “That happened one time in a bar and I was drunk and I was kidding.”

“Sure, Cy.” Fiearius nodded importantly. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

“Y’know what, I changed my mind, I’m still mad at you, I’m leaving,” Cyrus decided, slipping off the side of the bed and turning for the door, but Fiearius let out another cough-laugh and grabbed his arm.

“Okay okay,” he begged, trying to hold down the choking. “I’m sorry. Don’t leave, Daelen only talks to me in really bad puns, I’m dying here.”

Cyrus looked to his brother. And down to his arm. And relented. “Fine.” He sat back down and Fiearius could not have seemed more pleased.

“So what else have I missed?”

Not much, was Cyrus’ immediate gut reaction, but for his brother’s sake, he took another pass at his memory. “Well. Eve beat me at chess. Daelen showed Rhys a picture of liver cancer and he stopped drinking. For two days. Amora started ‘Friday Feasts’ where she makes more food than any of us can eat and then whines at us to eat the leftovers for the next week. I’ve been teaching Richelle and Javier how to work on the Dionysian. They’ve got quite a knack for it actually. When Nikkolai’s not getting in the way. Oh and I made enough credits fixing the other ships in the dock to keep us running for another two months.” He grinned proudly.

But Fiearius, it seemed, was not as impressed with Cyrus’ accomplishments. He was watching him with a kind of anticipation that made him nervous. It occurred to him that news of the Dionysian’s crew was not the only news he was looking for. He almost expected it when Fiearius asked, “How’s Leta?”

At once, Cyrus wanted to change the subject. But despite the pit in his stomach, he knew Fiearius deserved an answer, even if it was, “Eh…she’s good I think. Fine.”

Fiearius nodded slowly. “You’ve talked to her?”

“Yeah, a few times,” Cyrus admitted, feeling a bit like he’d done something wrong. “She’s just helping out on the Beacon. She’s alright.” He wasn’t sure if he should, but he added after a moment, “She always asks about you.”

Fiearius lifted his brows in recognition of the statement, but he said nothing else. Cyrus was left with the distinct feeling he’d somehow just struck him in the chest.

“Oh, also, I’ve been monitoring your messages,” he said suddenly, desperate to leave this topic behind. “It’s mostly notifications that you’re losing your Spaceship War? A few messages from Quin and some others asking what the hell is going on. And there was one this morning, I didn’t get a chance to read through it, but it was from an Admiral?”

Fiearius finally looked back at him, frowning, confused. “I don’t know any Admirals.”

“I didn’t think so.” Curious now what it could possibly be, Cyrus crossed the room to pick up a tablet Daelen had left sitting on the counter. Skimming through it, he eventually found the message he was looking for. “Yeah, here, Admiral Gates,” he read before looking up at Fiearius who just blinked back at him and shrugged.

His brother carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for the tablet as Cyrus handed it to him. He squinted at the screen and muttered, “Captain Soliveré, I hope this message finds you in good blah blah blah, okay, we’ve heard about your many exploits against the Society and want to commend you in boring boring, ah here we go. On behalf of the Carthian Military Council–” He looked up at Cyrus in alarm and then back at the screen. “–I would like to extend to you and your crew an invitation to our station located at the attached coordinates. We have much we’d like to discuss with you and a cause I think we can both agree is worthy of our attention. Sincerely, Admiral Gates.”

After finishing the message, Fiearius sat in silence for what seemed like ages. Cyrus too, who was leaned over his shoulder to peek at it himself, was stunned by the contents.

Finally, his confusion got the better of them. “Why the hell does the Carthian military want to talk to us?”

Fiearius glanced up at him and back at the screen, then shrugged again.

It wasn’t a very satisfying answer. “Well…are we gonna go?” Cyrus wanted to know.

Still, Fiearius said nothing. He seemed to read the message again. And then he looked up at Cyrus, his expression more perplexed as ever, and said, “Considering we’ve got no other prospects right now? I guess I don’t see why not.”

“Well … I’m flattered, Corra.”

“No,” she said sharply, pointing her finger at him. “You’re not. Just — don’t even — ugh.” She suddenly drew her knees up to her chest and buried her head in them.

He could think of nothing to say, nothing to alleviate the awkwardness in the room. It was true that Finn was spending three nights a week in her bed, but she’d always made it clear that was where their relationship stood: the bedroom. They had fun, they laughed, they drank together, and then she kicked him out in the morning. It was an arrangement, casual and easy, and that was that.

Right?

“Corra,” he said at last, his chest twisting: was he really about to hurt her? It had never occurred to him that he had that power. “You’ve no idea how much I respect you as a captain. And a friend. But I thought we set ground rules between us, didn’t we? And you know me,” he laughed sourly, “you know I can’t do commitment right now.”

“I know that,” she said into her knees and let out a snort. “Believe me I know that.”

“I’m — I’m really sorry. I had no idea you… you’re not hurt by this, are you? By me?”

Corra snorted again and looked up at him pathetically. “I’m not hurt, I’m just embarrassed.”

She cracked a weak smile, and Finn, glad to follow suit, said,  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, a lot of people can’t help falling in love with me.”

“I didn’t say I was in love with you,” Corra groaned, rolling her eyes. “I just–look, you’re really fun. And you make me laugh. I like being around you. So I just thought, y’know, if I’m ever gonna learn how to trust someone enough to have a more serious relationship, maybe you’d be a good candidate, that’s all.” She shrugged helplessly.

“Hey, I like being around you too. But … if you want to try out dating,” Finn said, “and you think I’m a good candidate? Oh you — you are just so wrong about that, captain.”

To his relief, Corra laughed. “In retrospect, it was a pretty stupid idea. But, hey, I like what we have right now, really. So if that’s all you want, that’s fine. Please don’t feel bad and please let’s not make a big deal out of this.” She cracked him a lopsided grin. “I can just as easily conduct my great dating experiment elsewhere.”

“Sorry I can’t be of more help,” he muttered, though he meant it. “You deserve a worthy contender.”

“And I will make it my personal goal to find that person. As long as you agree to keep me company on my my many lonely nights in the meantime.”

“That,” said Finn, allowing himself to grin in spite of his guilt as he threw an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, “I can do.”

Corra giggled and stretched out her arms in front of her. Then she seemed to remember something significant and eyed him seriously. “Oh and — I know you don’t think so but… you’re a good guy, Riley. Really good. So forget Elsa. She doesn’t even deserve you anyway.”

– – – – – –

“So you two are really a thing now, aren’t you?” Leta couldn’t help but ask as she smirked at Addy, who sat across from her on the medical bay counter. Although romance was the absolute last topic Leta wanted to discuss these days, even she had to admit how meltingly sweet it was to see Addy flush pink and become suddenly very interested in the stethoscope sitting on the counter.

“I guess we sort of are,” said Addy, nervously tucking her blonde hair behind her ear. She’d come to Leta in the medical bay just for a routine check-up, but ended up staying to visit and gossip.

Leta could only imagine how Cyrus was taking his newly-minted relationship status. When he wasn’t stressing about his brother, he was probably floating on cloud nine.

“Although I’ve no idea when we’ll see each other again. I’ve never done a long-distance thing before. Do you know when we’ll be near the Dion — oh.”  Addy clapped her hand over her face. “I’m sorry, I totally forgot. Here we are, talking about me and the Dionysian when you just went through a break-up — “

“Trust me, I’m glad for the distraction,” said Leta, snorting and waving off her concern. “Besides, I can’t avoid the Dionysian forever. And I don’t want to — I miss Cyrus too.”

 She heaved a sigh. Just then, the doors swung open and Alyx popped her head in.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, doc, but you’ve got an incoming call. System’s reading it as unidentified so I’ve no idea who it is. Want me to dump it?”

“Unidentified call?”

Considering how many security hurdles Cyrus put the Dionysian through, there was no one else it could be. No one else would know to reach her on the Beacon. And Cyrus always called Addy first, not her. And she’d already talked to Daelen this morning. Which meant …

“No, I’ll take it,” she said at last, feeling oddly decisive about this. Addy threw her a hopeful look. She had to talk to Fiearius again eventually, didn’t she? “Patch it through to my quarters, please.”

Upstairs in her room, Leta inhaled a deep breath, lowered to her chair and reached for the communications console screen. Whatever Fiearius had to say, she would let him say it, quickly and succinctly so they could get this confrontation over with. It was inevitable, after all; he’d tried calling her nearly every hour for the first week she’d been gone, but those calls had petered off as he got sicker. This was the first she’d heard from him since, and there really was no avoiding this man. He seemed to take up more than his share of the span. She switched the dial to take the call.

“Fiearius. Hey. Listen — ”

But it wasn’t Fiearius’ gruff familiar drawl that filled the line. It was another voice, curious and puzzled.

“Leta?”

She nearly choked on her tongue. “Ren?” she gasped. “What the hell is — are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Gods, every time I call you, you think I’m on my deathbed. Though I suppose I can’t blame you for that,” he added, his voice warm and friendly. Clearly he had no idea that Leta’s heart was hammering in her chest, nor that she was experiencing not relief, but a rush of disappointment that it was not actually Fiearius on the other line.

Recovering herself, Leta managed, “What’s going on?”

“Sorry to track you down like this, especially out of nowhere,” he said, inhaling deeply. “But I’ve got a proposition for you.”

– – – – – –

As Cyrus made his way down the stairs towards the Dionysian’s infirmary, he wasn’t sure what he should expect inside. It had been nearly a week since he’d visited his brother. Daelen had assured him that Fiearius was nearing the end of his recovery and insisted Cyrus take some time away from the sickbed. “For your own health,” he’d said. “I’ll tell you when he’s better.”

And this morning, apparently, he was better. Cyrus couldn’t even guess what that meant. ‘Better’ didn’t seem that hard in comparison to the writhing, screaming, delirious mess Fiearius had been for the past few weeks. The echoes of his desperation still haunted Cyrus on quiet evenings sometimes. The fear that this was the end, despite Daelen’s assurance otherwise, still hadn’t quite faded away…

But he was ‘better’. Right. That was something. Finally things could be looking up and Cyrus was starting to be hopeful that they might at last be leaving this planet after their extended stay. Not that it was a particularly bad planet. The tropical city of Kaadihn had actually been quite a sufficient host. There was plenty to do both in work and entertainment, the climate was a nice change from their usual backwater stops and the locals hadn’t once questioned why a crappy out-dated space junker was sitting in their docks for a month. Still, too much traveling had caused Cyrus to grow weary of even the best locations quickly and as he stepped through the door of the infirmary, he couldn’t help hoping ‘better’ meant ‘able to fly the ship elsewhere.’

It only took a moment inside the dim medbay to notice the change since he’d been here last. It was cleaner, for one. The counters were now free of the many bottles of medication that had scattered them before. It was calmer, too. Instead of rushing around the place like a madman, Daelen now stood by the sink rinsing equipment as though he had all the time in the world. And most miraculous of all, it was quiet. In the center of the room, Fiearius was leaning back in the hospital bed, not screaming, not shouting, not flailing nor groaning nor sounding like he was barely crawling his way out of hellfire. No, he was just leaning. And when he saw his brother, he even almost smiled.

“Oh Gods, Corra, something’s happening,” Leta said breathlessly.  “They’re talking to a security guard. They’re leaving the party. You need to get out of here.”

Corra pounded through the kitchen, rushing out the back door and onto the loading dock. A few shuttles sat in her path and she haphazardly dodged around them straight out onto the main lawn.

Above her, the sky was alight with falling stars, blazing through the atmosphere and burning out, sending shimmers across the grass. Just ahead, moving far too slowly and carefully, she could see the mass of allies making their way out. And just to her right, descending from the side of the house, a security team.

An armed security team.

Panic ripped through her, but action set in only a moment later. She fumbled to grasp her own gun, never stopping her race towards Cai and the others, and lifted it into the air. A decisive bang filled the lawn and all at once, five security guards and sixty four Almost-Frees were looking her way.

She seized the chance.

“Run!” she roared at the top of her lungs, and then the scene dissolved into chaos. Suddenly half the guards were barreling towards her and the other half towards the escapees. All of them were on their COMMs calling for immediate backup. A cavalcade of screams erupted amongst the allies as they too tripled the pace, a stampede of legs and desperation all sprinting towards the gate. All except one.

It didn’t take long for the dark shape of people to surpass the one skinny man who couldn’t keep up. Cai’s leg, of course. She’d forgotten. He was clearly going as fast as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough. The three guards who’d gone straight for the allies were gaining on him and quickly.

“Cai! Look out!” she shouted.

One of the guards — so dangerously close — raised a night stick above his head. Cai spun around, but his legs got tangled up and he fell backwards, landing on the grass with a thump even Corra could hear.

“Don’t damage ‘im too much, he ain’t ours!” one of the other guards yelled. “Get after the rest!” shouted another. But all Corra could see in her tunnel vision as she ran towards the scene was her friend about to be beaten by a slaver and it filled her such fury that she didn’t even feel it as her finger pulled the trigger.

Cai scrabbled backwards and stumbled back to his feet as the man with the stick screamed and fell to the ground, clutching his abdomen as it started to seep with blood. Minutes too late, Cai seemed to remember the gun in his own hand and pointed it haphazardly at the fallen man, just as the second approached with a gun of her own.

“Put the gun down, kroppie, or I’ll–” started the guard before she too received one of Corra’s bullets, right in the shoulder.

As the woman reeled back, Cai looked back at Corra in alarm, and it was a second later when she realized why.

A sharp, searing heat tore across her shoulder.  She clapped her hand over her upper-arm and felt warm sticky blood between her fingers. And only moments later, both of her arms were torn back as the guards caught up to her and held her in place.

Her vision grew hazy, and the pain in her arm making her nauseous, but in the darkness she could see Cai’s panicked face. And he was coming closer. At once, she was struck with a panic of her own. “No! No just run!” she shouted to him. One of her captors tried to hold a hand over her mouth, but in her desperate struggle, he couldn’t keep it there. “Get them out, Cai! You have to get them out! I’ll be fine!”

“Sure as hell you won’t be, you kroppie bitch!” growled one of the men behind her and she jerked her body to kick him in the leg. Still, she couldn’t free herself and already, they were succeeding in dragging her back toward the house.

Cai, who had stopped running halfway between the gate and her, was just staring, lost like a deer in headlights. He needed to get back to the group. He needed to get them on the ship. He needed to finish this job.

“Just go!” Corra shouted, angry this time. “Go! Now!”

He was shaking his head when he followed her order. Shaking his head and looking back in regret as he turned and started to run back to where the allies were still being pursued as they fled the gate onto the streets of the city. They’d be okay. He’d lead them back to the ship and they’d be alright. Corra breathed a sigh of relief. As for her…

“Don’t care whose property you are, the boss is gonna have your head for this,” said one of the men carrying her as Corra struggled against his grip. It turned out, though, that it wasn’t her head that was in trouble. One minute the guard was yapping slurs and threats and the next…well, he didn’t have a mouth to yap from.

Again, Corra barely heard the shot. But she swore she saw the bullet as it went straight through the man’s head and out the other side. She also didn’t realize that she shrieked until the second one fell and she was staggering backwards away from two men who barely had faces any longer.

Frantically, she spun around and easily found the source. Finn, his gun raised and his face stone, was marching towards her.

Just beyond Finn was Leta who was sprinting towards them as fast as she could while dragging a young blonde girl behind her. Elli, Corra assumed. Snitch as she may have been, Corra couldn’t hold a grudge and she certainly didn’t want the poor thing to face whatever wrath awaited her now that sixty of her peers were gone.

“Corra!” shouted Leta. “You’re bleeding, are you okay?”

Corra waved her off, “I’m fine, we need to go. There’s probably more of them coming and–”

“I really don’t think so,” said Finn. He flashed her a grin. “There’s enough chaos at that party to keep ‘em busy for a while, we made sure of that.” As Corra tilted her head at him curiously. “He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re thinking. But he’s certainly gonna have a lot to think about for a while.” Finn lifted his other hand which held a knife, a copious amount of blood and–what was that? Corra squinted her eyes at the bloody chunk of — was that — it was — an ear.

At first she was shocked. Nausea swam in her stomach. And then she thought of all the conversations the one-time ally owner was going to have in future where he had to explain that he was not, in fact, the kroppie scum he so loved to abuse, and she felt a grin bloom on her face.

Corra hadn’t trusted Finn when they first took on the Beacon together. He’d always seemed mostly out for himself. That opinion had already changed over the last few months, but never had she respected him or cared for him or trusted him as much as she did that night. Unable to stop herself and despite the searing pain in her shoulder, she threw her arms around him and squeezed.

“Thank you,” was all she could bring herself to say.

Finn laughed, hugging her with one arm. “For cutting somebody’s ear off? You’re welcome? I guess.”

“No, not that,” she scolded, shaking her head and burying her face in his chest. “Thank you for taking this on with me. Even though we’re not getting paid for it. Even though Callahan will be mad. And everything. Thank you. This means a lot to me. I really appreciate it.”

“You two are adorable,” said Leta, “but we need to get out of here before someone finds us.”

“And before you bleed all over me,” Finn added, patting her back. “C’mon, back to the ship.”

As she walked through the crowd on her own, taking careful steps and trying to smile kindly at everyone who passed her, Corra spotted Leta in the crowd, holding a glass of wine. She met her eyes and they exchanged a silent conversation. Everything okay? Leta asked, lifting her brow. Corra smiled an all good.

Just then, an older gentleman, without even a word of greeting, plucked the last bite-sized concoction from her tray. She resisted the urge to make a rude remark to him and instead took the opportunity to approach the table where a couple of the household allies were arranging more trays to be taken around the garden.

She was about three feet away from it when one of the women working, without even looking up, pointed at a tray at the end and said, “Take that one.” She pointed to a stack of used trays behind her. “Place the old one here.”

Corra hesitated, a little stunned, but she wouldn’t be deterred. Slowly, she did as she was asked, but as she hoisted the new tray onto her hip, she watched the woman a moment longer. She was clearly a ball of stress, just barely keeping afloat as her fingers worked doublespeed placing the — what were those things even? Corra’s understanding of rich-people food was limited — exactly two inches between one another in three columns of five. Corra had brushed it off before when the cranky woman had threatened her with ‘punishment’ but it occurred to her as she watched that this ally standing in front of her knew exactly what the punishment was and was trying very very hard to avoid it. She felt a subtle ache in her chest.

“Tired of doing this?” Corra asked abruptly. The woman snorted.

“Don’t see what that has to do with anything,” she growled, rolling her eyes and continuing her work.

Corra felt a slow smirk spread across her face. “A lot, actually,” she said and felt a beat of hope when the woman looked up at her, her eyes growing wider. “I’m with the Conduit.”

– – – – – – –

In the crowd of mingling party guests, Leta managed to keep an eye on Corra and was pleased to see that her disguise was working perfectly. She flashed her friend a brief smile, then turned around to find Finn again. They were supposed to be watching the other guests, staking out the important figures and making sure anyone who could pose a threat to the operation was accounted for, but the man had seemingly disappeared. Probably to enjoy the open bar and fancy finger food, she assumed.

Leta resisted rolling her eyes. But it was of no matter, she didn’t need him. She could take care of it herself.

Before she could melt back into the crowd, however, a snippet of nearby conversation caught her ear.

“Have you heard what’s happening on Vescent?” breathed a man over her shoulder. Leta froze in place, turning to listen, subtly as she could.

“It can’t be true, can it?” said a woman in reply, sounding terribly worried. “It’s just rumors! There’s simply no way the Society would permit — would permit — ”

“Executions,” the man finished darkly. “Executing their own people. And how are we to know what’s true and what’s isn’t? No media is allowed anywhere near that planet anymore. . . ”

When their conversation broke off, Leta found herself gripping the edge of the nearest table. Executions, media black out — her stomach dropped. It was true, of course it was. She had guessed that things would be growing darker there after what had happened a few weeks ago, the riot that she herself had been a part of. Their words didn’t ring untrue, but they still sent a shiver down her spine and she felt powerless to help. For one fleeting moment, Leta knew what she’d do next. She’d tell Fiearius about this and he’d understand; maybe they could even do something —

But then she remembered. Fiearius was gone to her now.

Her chest gave an ache of longing. Quickly Leta pushed away from the table, determined to get a hold of herself. Around her, interested murmurs and excitement rippled through the garden; the meteor shower was beginning.

—————-

In a rush, Cai pushed through the kitchen doors, skidding to a halt in front of her. “It started! It’s time!”

Corra had been waiting there for only a few minutes, but it felt like hours. The word of their planned escape plan had spread like wildfire, reaching every ally on the premises in under twenty minutes and now, she was surrounded by over sixty equally jumpy people who barely fit in the space. Some of them had asked her a thousand questions, others had glared at her with skepticism, but most had just stood quietly nervous, ready to bolt at the very first sign that this was going south.

She could hardly blame them. Misbehaving on the job was bad enough, misbehaving by trying to get away from the job was a sentence she didn’t want to consider. These people were on the verge of either sweet, wonderful freedom or what would likely be very harsh punishment. Of course they were afraid. They had every right to be terrified. The Conduit agent who had visited before must have given a very convincing sales pitch though. They’d all shown up after all. And Corra was determined to get them out of here. No matter what.

“Alright, everyone stick together!” yelled Corra over the crowd as she waited near the doors. “Head straight for the gate and don’t look back. There’s not a lot of time, the shower won’t last long, we need to make the most of it.”

“I’ll lead the way,” Cai volunteered, meeting her at her side. “But if you get separated, the docks are just north of here, a few blocks, can’t miss them.”

“The ship you’re looking for is the Beacon. Big, silver boat,” Corra explained. “We won’t leave until either we have everyone aboard or–”

But suddenly a third voice rang out in the crowd. “Wait!” cried one of the younger allies in dismay. His face shone with worry. “This isn’t everyone.”

Corra froze. Not everyone? That couldn’t be right. She’d done a head count. She’d done a head count eight times. Counting heads was all she had been doing for the last few minutes. There were sixty-three allies total and sixt- three in this room. But the man insisted, “Elli, she’s not here. We can’t leave without Elli.”

A murmur of agreement rang through the room. “She was here a few minutes ago,” someone else pointed out. “Where’d she go?” asked another. “She said she had something to do,” said one more.

Corra couldn’t believe that someone on the verge of everlasting freedom would suddenly feel the need to take a bathroom break. There wasn’t time for this. One loose cog could make this whole machine crash. But they were right. They couldn’t leave without Elli, no matter how bad her timing was.

“I’ll find her,” Corra promised the concerned faces around her. To Cai, she added, “Take them out of here. You know the way.”

His face darkened with worry. “Are you sure? Maybe we should just wai–”

“There’s no time,” Corra insisted as she reached around him to the small of his back and seized the small gun he’d concealed there. Grabbing Cai’s hand, she placed it in his grip and held both for a moment. “You can do this,” she assured him with a smile. “Just remember what I taught you. And hopefully you won’t need to use it at all.”

His hands were still slightly shaking as Corra dropped her own, but he nodded firmly. “Right.” But then he turned those big sad puppy dog eyes of his on her. “But you’ll catch up, won’t you?”

Corra grinned. “Of course. My ship can’t take off without me!” She patted him one last time on the arm before turning to head back out of the kitchen. “Good luck!” she called over her shoulder as the caravan of allies started to make their way out.

Praying to God that this would all go as planned, Corra started to scour the hallways.

She found that the first floor was empty — even the bathrooms were deserted. Then she found her way to the ally barracks in the basement in case this Elli girl had needed to grab some personal possession. But they were also empty. As she continued to search the halls, dead quiet now that everyone was either outside watching the meteor shower or outside fleeing for good, Corra hit the COMM hidden behind her ear.

“Leta, are there any allies out there? We’re missing one.”

There was a brief silence, presumably while Leta situated herself to both look around and talk to herself without anyone noticing. Finally, she answered, “I don’t see any. All the trays are gone. No one by the food table…There’s a bartender, but he seems paid, I–oh! Hang on.” Leta’s surprise called Corra to freeze in place, right on the precipice of the staircase.

“Yeah?” she insisted impatiently. She could still hear the ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s from Leta’s side of the COMM so there was still time — but it was fading fast. As soon as the meteor showered ended, it wouldn’t take long for people to start wondering where all the food had gone off to.

“I think  –” It sounded like Leta was quickly weaving through the crowd. “She’s not working, but–yes, okay, there’s a girl. Young girl. Blonde. I saw her cleaning tables earlier. And she’s with that sour looking woman we left you with.”

Corra groaned. How the hell did that happen? What had this Elli girl done? But then Leta said something that made her retract the question.

“This doesn’t look good…They’re going up to this guy, the host of the party. Corra–I don’t think there’s–she’s whispering something in his ear.”

Corra’s heart thudded. It wasn’t what she’d done. It was what she was about to do. Without even thinking, she started to run.