“You know, Rhys told me the other day he wants to start drinking less,” she remembered suddenly. “He asked me to help him. Funny, yeah? He was drunk when he asked me, though … And Amora’s great. She’s still trying to marry off Cyrus to her nieces. No luck so far, though.”

“Poor Amora, never can take a hint, that one,” Alyx remarked affectionately. “Who else am I forgetting?”

Leta felt herself clench. Mentioning Aiden’s death wasn’t exactly good table conversation, and she wasn’t sure she could manage it.

“Well, someone new came aboard,” said Leta instead. “Finnegan, this fighter pilot. The deckhands were swooning over him the other day. And then there’s Ludo –” Hesitation passed over Leta’s face, her expression losing its cheer. “Ludo’s there as well, and … “

Abruptly, the tone of the table changed. The look of cheer disappeared from Alyx’s face as she simply gazed over the table, the color draining from her face, leaving her looking stunned.

“Ludo?” she repeated quietly, letting the name fall out of her mouth like she’d eaten something nasty and wanted to spit it out.

Cyrus eyed her in confusion. “You know, Ludo, older guy, beard — “

“No no.” Alyx held up her hand.“No, I know who he is.” Her eyes had gone glassy as she stared in mild horror at the table before her. “I thought he’d be long gone by now.” She just gazed straight through them, almost scared before she dropped her head in her hands. “Oh gods, oh gods…”

The menu slipped out of Leta’s hands. Something was wrong, truly wrong.

Cyrus sat up in alarm. “Hey — hey, what’s the matter?”

When she finally took her hands from her face, there were tears welling in her eyes. “I knew — “ she stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Gods, I knew, I thought so many times, I should have said something. Gods, I should have said something.”

Leta’s heart was starting to beat hard. “Said what?”

Her wet eyes looked up at the both of them as she breathed, “Why I left. Oh gods, I’m so sorry, I just didn’t– I’m an idiot. I needed to say something and I didn’t. Gods, I didn’t. And now, who knows what–” Her voice drowned in her own throat, but she found it again only moments later. “I just wanted to get away as quickly as I could,” she explained hurriedly, “and when the captain took out that Benning ship, it was the perfect opportunity. I just–I just ran.” The tears were streaming down her face now. “I’m so sorry. I’m–I’m so so sorry…”

Leta’s stomach plunged, and kept plunging. She was scared to ask, “What happened?”

Alyx turned pleading eyes upon her, as if begging her to not make her spell it out. But slowly, she took in a deep breath and said, “Ludo, he–”

“He what?” Cyrus asked, held in suspense.

Pitifully, she looked up at him and said shakily, “It was that night after the Obelon gig. A few of us went down into the town to celebrate. Went into town and drank our wages away.” She took a deep breath before she continued on. “On the way back…I guess I drank a lot. I split off from the group. Got a bit lost. I ran into–into Ludo. He said he’d help me back to the ship.” This time, her pause fell even longer, heavier and it took all her courage to continue.

“He–I didn’t really know him,” she explained, stumbling over her words. “We never spoke. But he used to–sometimes on the ship, I could feel him…watching me. But he was crew. Right? And I was lost so I–so I went with him.” Her voice crumbled almost entirely so that she could hardly say, “He– he didn’t take me to the ship though. I was too out of it to fight back I guess. Or just too weak…”

After a moment of thunderstruck, horrified silence, Leta managed to find her voice, which struggled out of her throat.

“You don’t — ” she began, with difficulty. Her eyes burned on Alyx’s for a moment longer. “You don’t have to apologize. For any of that. Ever.” The words emitted with a conviction, which was surprising, considering how suddenly weak and shaky she felt, like she had just caught the flu.

Swallowing down the sickness in her throat, Leta did not hesitate as she suddenly pushed herself to her feet nearly upending their small table in her awkward haste, without a backwards glance toward Cyrus.

“I– I’m going,” she offered blankly, almost as an afterthought: her voice sounded hollow in her ears, quite unlike herself, like it belonged to someone else. Offering no other explanation of where exactly she was going, Leta crossed toward the exit of the cafe, staggering out.

Seconds or minutes later (really, it could’ve been hours), she was back on the street, parting the crowded sidewalk as her feet carried her forward, faster than her mind could process. Really, her mind was a fog, and she hardly noticed as she nearly stepped into passers-by. Ludo had assaulted her. He could have assaulted countless others …

The thought sent a wave of anger through Leta so powerful and hot that it almost scared her.

Her feet pounded up the metal ramp of the Dionysian before she had a chance to process her surroundings

“Leta — ?” ventured a confused voice. It was Javier, who stood in the corner of the cargo bay, a broom in hand. “What, what happened?” he asked shakily.

But Leta hardly heard him. She suddenly gained a sense of tunnel vision, and everyone lingering in the cargo bay were simply blurs in her eyes as she continued forward, her feet moving of their own accord. Part of her was looking for Ludo. She had no idea what she’d do if she saw him.

Up the stairs, through the corridor — she barely noticed where she was going until she halted, sharply, directly inside the doorway of the bridge.

In the cabin, Fiearius was lounged back in the captain’s chair, his feet on the dashboard, in mid-conversation with Corra. They appeared to be picking through a box of guns as Corra said, “Why are we keeping this one? It’s older than you, cap’n — “

Leta stared at them numbly and took her first full breath in what felt like days, a long, uneasy inhale in her chest. She froze and stared, wide-eyed.

“Fiearius,” she breathed, quietly, and he cocked his head toward her. At once, her eyes sprang with tears, her expression falling into a portrait of despair. “Fiear,” she pressed again, and this time his name was heavier on her lips, painful. Fiearius fixed his gaze on her and pushed himself to his feet at once, alarm in his eyes.

Shakily, she pressed her wrist against her mouth, expertly holding back an onslaught of anger and crying. “You were wrong. He did cross you.” Her eyes swam with tears, but she tried to steady her voice as much as possible. “Alyx’s — Cyrus’ friend — she told us. Ludo attacked her.”

What if he didn’t care, what if he didn’t understand? For a moment Leta was panicked as Fiearius did nothing but stare right through her. But then his expression started to change. His jaw twitched, fury arrived in his eyes. He pushed himself toward the door, but not without grabbing the nearest gun and snarling, “Where is he?!”

 

Leta chose to wait outside on the grand front porch, arms folded against the light breeze. Nearly twenty minutes past while Corra and Will talked.  She could hear their murmured voices near the front door, but was quite sure she didn’t know want to hear their troubled conversation.

At last, the front door banged open.

“Sorry,” said Corra at once, looking pained as she hurried down the steps and down the yard. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“No, that’s alright,” said Leta, her heart sinking at the sight of Corra’s face, her obvious distress. She fell into step beside her, heading toward the ship. “What happened in there? Did you — what’s that?” added Leta quickly, spotting Corra’s balled-up fist.

Corra held up her hand. In it was a round black sphere small enough to fit in Corra’s palm, made of glinting metal, looking aged and dented, like it had been dropped several times.

“Is this a paperweight?” she asked blankly. “Did you steal a paperweight?”

Corra laughed, but the laugh died quickly. “No, much fancier than that. It’s an ancient relic supposedly. Will said it was a gift from Mr. Lawson, but he wanted me to have it.” She smiled sadly.

Lightly, Leta suggested, “Do you want me to throw it at him? His head, maybe?”

Corra laughed again, genuinely this time.  “No. No. It’s a…nice gift. Will thinks it’s some kind of data storage. Whoever gave it to Mr. Lawon said it has the Caelum Lex in it somehow, but he can’t figure out how to get it open.”

Leta eyed the sphere, raising an eyebrow. It seemed impossible that something so scratched and dirty contain information as important and archaic as the Caelum Lex, the colonist’s documented list of laws. True copies of the laws were scattered across the span, valuable, treasured and placed in museums, though as the years passed, even those numbers were dwindling.

“I’ll have Cyrus take a look at it,” Corra mumbled, slipping the sphere back into her pocket as they walked along. Sad silence fell between them. “This was such a mistake,” Corra despaired suddenly, throwing her head back and staring sadly into the night sky. “What the hell was I thinking, coming out here and trying to ‘save’ somebody who obviously doesn’t need to be saved…”

“But now you know,” Leta pressed. “And you did offer something really kind to Will.”

Corra sighed heavily and shook her head. “I wasn’t even really doing it for him. I wasn’t thinking about him. It’s stupid. It’s so stupid. I just had this stupid idea that me and him could get a ship of our own and go off on some grand adventure like we used to talk about growing up. But that’s ridiculous, of course. How would we even? And why would he want to?” Frustrated, she shoved her hands in her pockets and frowned at the ground. “The whole thing was stupid.”

Leta had never heard Corra speak this way before. Unpleasant surprise ran through her. “Wait. You want to leave the Dionysian?”

At once, Corra looked as though she’d been caught in the act.

“I–well–no,” she stuttered, shaking her head. “Though…It’s not that I want to leave exactly. The Dionysian’s my home. And it’s crew is my family.” She frowned and looked away. “I don’t know what I’d do without them. You all mean the world to me. But…”

She looked up at her again and hesitated, struggling for her words. “The thing is, I’ve been gifted this rare opportunity. Not many allies ever get released from their deeds. But I did. And what am I doing with it on the Dionysian? Nothing. I mean, taking care of the armory for a criminal I guess, but…that doesn’t really sound that meaningful in the end does it?”

“It’s not that I’m unhappy,” she clarified quickly. “I’m not. I love it there and I like what I do and I don’t really want to leave, but…” Her voice trailed off as she watched her feet take step after step below her. “Aiden–he used to say I need to do what’s right for me. Life’s too short to spend your time following paths you’re not satisfied with. And for whatever reason, maybe the whole ordeal on Kadolyne or all that mess with Cyrus or maybe just a general passage of time and growth or, whatever…the Dionysian’s just not satisfying me anymore.”

Corra finally took her eyes off her feet and rested them on Leta sadly. “I don’t wanna leave,” she said again. “But I think maybe it’s time that I should.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

An hour later, the ship lay dark, sleepy and silent. Leta stood in the kitchen counter alone, stirring tea, the spoon clinking gently in the mug. As soon as they’d reached the Dionysian’s ramp, Corra muttered in defeat that she was going to bed and then disappeared towards her quarters. Wishing there was something more she could do, Leta simply bid her a sad goodnight.

Standing there numbly, Leta’s mind buzzed. Corra wanted to leave? Leta knew she would be leaving soon herself — of course — but Corra’s departure from the ship still struck her as a horrible loss.

And what would Cyrus say, if he knew? He would be crushed.

Abruptly Leta turned and reached for the a bottle of whiskey in the cabinet. After this day, her tea needed livening up. She was just wasting the whiskey bottle under her nose when a sudden voice made her jump out of her skin.

“Drinking alone?”

It wasn’t Fiearius, it wasn’t Cyrus. It was Ludo, of all people, who had materialized in the doorway. Leta had the sudden sense that he’d been standing there for several minutes.

Unease prickling her skin, Leta lowered the bottle. “Seems that way,” she said, averting her eyes to the copper liquor splashing into her mug. All the while, she could sense Ludo’s eyes on the back of her neck.

“Didn’t think Vescentians with fancy medical degrees drank much,” he grunted, stepping toward the counter and standing beside her. Glancing at him shortly, Leta saw he was smiling at her, showing yellow teeth. “But don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

Leta had never been alone with Ludo before, nor had she been with him in such close quarters. She picked up her mug to leave, but Ludo went on, “S’funny.” He laughed. “S’funny just that someone like you is on the ship at all.”

“Hilarious,” Leta agreed dryly, sipping her tea and walking to the door. But then Ludo’s words stopped her in place.

“Maybe if you fit in enough, the cap’n will change his mind about you.”

Leta lowered the mug. “He’ll — what?”

“Change his mind,” he grunted, turning around toward her, folding his arms. “About turning you in. There was just a fresh warrant out on your arrest. You know, s’quite an impressive bounty you got on your head.”

Leta simply gazed at him. Fiearius was considering giving her into the authorities? For a reward? It couldn’t have been true. Fiearius had every chance and he hadn’t even tried.

Ludo seemed to be reading her mind.

“Aiden talked him out of it about a month ago, told him to hold off,” he explained, scratching his beard thoughtfully. “But since Aid’s gone and all … “

Leta’s eyes narrowed toward a glare. Ludo was lying, of course he was lying. Uncomfortable as it was to admit, things with Fiearius lately had not been so terrible. Sometimes conversation flowed so easily, it felt like they were old friends. Or maybe that was her imagination; perhaps it was one-sided.

“Yeah? Pretty sure Cyrus and Corra would kill him,” said Leta shortly.

He barked a laugh. “Well then why d’ya think he hasn’t helped you go get your man yet?”

“He just buried his best friend. That might have something to do with it.”

“Naw.” Ludo didn’t sound distasteful — in fact, he sounded practically appreciative of the captain’s genius. “He’s just biding his time is all.”

He grabbed for the whiskey bottle from the counter. “Just thought I’d clue ya in,” he said, swinging the bottle at his side as he walked through the door. Briefly, his hand slid against her hip as he muttered, “Innocent girl like you.”

A shadow moved across the wall opposite them. Then, a man stepped into sight and Corra gasped.

Across the room, they stared at one another. He had a mess of curly dark hair and the familiar crop taken out of his left ear. Finally, his brow creased in contemplation and after a moment, he ventured, “…Corra?”

“Will!”

Corra threw herself at him and crushed him in a hug that he happily returned. And for a moment, the two of them stood there, arms wrapped around one another and Corra’s face buried in Will’s chest as reunited friends reveled in one another’s presence.

At last, Will lifted his hands from her back and placed them on her shoulders to hold her away from him and get a better look at her. “Corra, by the one true god,” he breathed in disbelief, shaking his head slowly. And then pointed out, “You grew out your hair.”

“So did you!” was her immediate response, reaching up to tug on his long curly locks affectionately. When he laughed, she added, a little sheepishly, “I like it.”

Will put a hand on top of her head and added, “But you didn’t grow at all, I see.” Corra laughed and shoved his hand off playfully, but Will’s smile faded into confusion. There was a far more important question in the air than physical appearance.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly. “How did you get in?” And then seeming to remember something, added, “Okay, no, I should know better than asking that, shouldn’t I? But really.” He eyed her sternly. “What are you doing here?”

Corra, it seemed, already had her answer planned out. “I’m here to rescue you,” she declared simply. “Well…we are.” She gestured back to Leta.

“Rescue me from what?” he asked, his tone genuinely concerned.

Clearly the answer to that seemed obvious. “From enslavement, of course,” Corra told him, cupping his cheek and watching him sadly like one might watch a child having trouble following the lesson plan.

But Will only stared. “Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it all planned out!”

“Got what planned out?” Now, he was starting to sound legitimately worried.

“We’ll take all the valuables from here,” Corra went on brightly, “I found a few on the way in, but I’m sure you know where all the best stuff is. So we’ll take all that with us and sell it.”

He still wasn’t biting. “What?”

But Corra was unphased. “And you can stay on our ship for a while,” she continued.

“Corra…”

“I’m on a ship now, by the way. I guess I didn’t tell you that.” Her words were coming out a mile a minute now. “A few years after you were bought, I got bought too. By a ship captain. It’s…not as great as it sounds, it’s kind of a pirate ship, lots of shady business and all, but he freed me! That’s the best part. I’m free! And I’ve been everywhere.” Suddenly, her eyes were filled with wonder as she reached out and grasped his hands. “Oh Will, you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen.”

“Corra.”

“But you’ll see them too! Like I said, you can stay with us for a while, and then once we’ve sold all this junk,” she gestured to Leta’s bag, “you can buy your own ship and go off on your own adventures and–”

“Corra.”

Finally, she heard her name and smiled at him cheerfully. “What?”

But the look on his face was anything but cheerful and as he spoke and her own expression fell in time with his words. “Corra that’s…that’s very thoughtful of you, but…” He frowned apologetically. “I don’t want to leave.”

That was an answer, however, she wasn’t prepared to accept.

“Why not?” She tilted her head curiously. “You can be free, Will. Free. Aren’t you tired of having to work for nothing? Of being someone else’s property?”

Will considered the question a moment and finally shrugged. “I don’t work for nothing. I work for a roof over my head. Clean clothes on my back. Food on my plate. And I don’t feel like property. Mr Lawson, he–I feel like family here. Not a possession.” He watched her a beat longer, apology and, Leta thought sadly, pity, written all over his face. “I know Goddora’s was bad, but…it’s not like that here. I’m—I’m happy.”

“But how?” Corra demanded at once, sounding almost offended by the idea. “How can you be happy stuck here? What about–didn’t you always used to say you want to travel the span? Didn’t you used to dream about going on great adventures out in the black, discovering new places and meeting new people and–” Her words caught in her throat before she finally managed to choke out, “You promised me. You promised that one day we’d get out there and see it all. And I’m doing that. So why aren’t you?”

Will just sighed and shook his head. “Corra, we were kids,” he explained. “We were just kids with silly dreams and that’s all they were. Dreams. It’s–it’s great that you’re living them. That’s amazing. But…It’s not for me. My dream is here now. This is what I want.”

By the look on Corra’s face, it was like he’d plunged a knife into her heart. Leta wasn’t the only one to notice.

Will saw his mistake almost instantly and gently grasped her shoulders as he tried to fix it. “I’m sorry, Corra, I really am,” he pleaded as she refused to or simply couldn’t meet his gaze. “Coming here was…incredibly sweet. And I can’t say how glad I am to see you again. Really. But I–I can’t leave with you. I just can’t. I’ve found a place here that’s good for me and I can’t just give that up.” He leaned down and smiled at her as he added, “Besides, can you imagine me out there in the span on my own trying to make it?” He chuckled lightly. “It’d be a disaster.”

Still refusing to look at him, Corra muttered under her breath, “You wouldn’t have to be alone…”

His smile faltered. “You always were braver than me.”

Finally, Corra looked up and met his eyes. And she held them there, silent and still for some time until at last she said, “Okay.” And that was it.

She nodded. “Okay. Alright,” she said again. “Well…we should go then. And–” She looked back at Leta who could see for the first time just how red her eyes had gotten. “I guess we should put that stuff back. I don’t want you to get in trouble…”

But Will put a hand on her shoulder. “Hang on,” he said.

“No no, really, we should go,” she insisted, “If something happens on your watch–”

“Nothing’s gonna happen,” he assured her.

“No, but what if–”

“Corra.” His grip on her shoulder tightened and she looked up at him wide-eyed, but his voice was kind as he said, “I haven’t seen you in six, seven years? I’m not just gonna let you walk in here and walk right out again.” He smiled. “I wanna hear all about your adventures on your shady spaceship. And you’ve yet to introduce me to your friend.” He frowned teasingly. “What did I always tell you about that?”

Corra finally laughed, just a little. “It’s rude?” she guessed.

“It is,” he agreed and patted his hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, no one else is gonna break in tonight. It’d be a statistical anomaly. Let’s go to the kitchen, I’ll get us all some tea.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

 

“Now, now,” said Finn in disapproval, coming to Fiearius’ aid again just as Corra scoffed. “Let him have his fun.”

“No,” Fiearius said suddenly, slamming his drink down with a sudden thud that made a few heads turn in surprise. He pushed himself away from the bar and Leta grasped his wrist at once to steady him.

“No, I think I’m done here,” he rambled on, righting himself on his feet. He turned to Corra and Leta, his eyes suddenly glinting with interest. “Plenty of night left, plenty of sights to see. Whaddya say?” His grin was slow and salacious when he muttered, “You two wanna get outta here?”

The smell of alcohol wafted from him as he leaned in close. Too close. “What?” said Leta, startled. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Cut it out, cap’n,” Corra groaned tiredly.

Fiearius kept his eyes on Leta a beat longer, then staggered back. “Fine,” he gave in simply, pushing himself from the bar. “It was worth a shot.” To Finn, he added, “C’mon, mate, let’s go somewhere we’ll be appreciated.”

Fiearius abruptly swept Leta’s drink out of her hand, cast her another smirk and turned away with Finn. Leta watched them walk away, perplexed.

“Well that was weird,” she muttered. It suddenly seemed very possible that Fiearius had been drinking all morning and afternoon by himself; it was probably worthwhile to keep an eye on him. Inwardly, Leta felt her heart clench: Fiearius wasn’t doing well, not at all.

“Where’s Cy?” Leta asked, glancing around the bar for some assistance. “Did he come?”

“Ah, no,” said Corra, sighing. “He said he wanted to stay on the ship and do some reading into the thing that shut down the engine.” She shrugged. “He likes to keep busy, I think. When he’s upset.”

Leta nodded. Then she paused, noticing the worry in Corra’s face. “How — how are things, with you two?”

Corra’s cheeks turned pink and her eyes fell. “They’re…okay,” she admitted with a small shrug of her shoulders. “Better. I think. We haven’t really had a chance to talk about it with all that’s gone on in the past couple weeks, but he’s not avoiding me anymore.” After a moment, she added quietly, “Nor is he trying to kiss me anymore…”

A sad smile spread over Leta’s face. “I’m sorry I suggested you go on a date,” she said, although this felt minuscule and silly now. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Corra laughed lightly and shrugged again. “It’s okay. You’re not the first person who’s thought it was, believe me,” she admitted.  “I’m just glad we still came out as friends this time. Perhaps he’s grown more than I thought.” Corra stirred the straw in her drink in a morose kind of way, and then said, “but there is — this one thing … “

She looked hesitant. “What?” pressed Leta quietly.

Corra glanced over at her a little warily. “Okay, this might sound kinda crazy,” she began, leaning towards Leta and speaking in hushed tones. “But I’ve been doing some research lately into–well, Goddora.”

Goddora had been an ally and weapons trader who once owned Corra. Leta still remembered vividly the day Fiearius shot the man in the head; Leta wasn’t at all sorry he — essentially, a slave dealer — was gone.

Corra went on, “Goddora never kept digital records of the people he traded. All his transactions were in volumes upon volumes of books in his office. But! Some of his trade partners weren’t quite as paranoid.”

Excitedly, she breathed, “I found a name I recognized. I thought he was lost, but I found him, my–an old friend. An ally friend, Will,” she said, and an odd, sincere smile flashed over Corra’s  face. Leta knew at once: this Will had been very important to Corra once upon a time.

Her eyes shining, Corra hastened to explain, “Now Will’s still an ally, working security at this guy’s mansion on this planet called Urdion. And okay, this is the crazy part, but –”

“You want to find him.”

“I wanna find him,” Corra confirmed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Find him and rob his owner blind and get him out of there.” She sat back and grinned, clearly quite proud of herself. But then her face fell.

“I was gonna ask Cy to help,” she admitted. “Get past the other security procedures or at least just have my back, something. He may not be the absolute best at burglary, but he’s done it before and he’s smart and insightful and I need him. And to hell if I’m asking his brother.” She grimaced and shook her head. “But now?” She sighed. “I dunno if I can even ask him. It seems so…unimportant after everything else.”

“If it’s still important to you, then it’s still important,” Leta stated firmly. “What about me? You don’t have to ask Cy. I can help.”

At once, Corra smiled broadly. “I won’t lie, I was hoping you’d say that,” she admitted sheepishly and then laughed. “Since when does our resident classy Vescentian doctor condone robbery, though?”

“Please,” Leta snorted. “I’m as morally bankrupt as the rest of you now. Well, maybe not Fiearius,” she said quickly, glancing at him past Corra’s shoulder.

She was startled for a moment to see Fiearius in deep conversation with a strange woman at the bar. The woman grinned up at him, fond and mischievous, as he wound a strand of her hair around his index finger.

Leta pulled her eyes away just in time to hear Corra laugh, “I’m told we have that effect on people.” To the bartender, Corra added, much to Leta’s relief, “Another round please!”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Pain sliced through his skull, or so it felt like. Several hazy hours later (the next morning already?), Fiearius squeezed his eyes shut, combatting the throbbing in his head. His mouth was dry as sandpaper. Groaning low in his throat, he pinched the bridge of his nose. It was only to be expected: of course he was hungover.

Grimacing, he rolled onto his back, dragging the sheets with his bare torso, and realized with alarm that he was not alone in his bed. Curled on her side, a woman slept beside him, someone he did not recognize, her naked shoulders silently rising and falling in slow breaths, her long dark hair a tousled mess. Well then …

Tentatively, he lifted himself with his forearm and squinted with one eye at his unfamiliar bedfellow. Oh yeah, he remembered dimly, the images of last night hazing together in a fog. Her. What was her name again?

The sight of her wasn’t, as it should have been, satisfying. It wasn’t shameful, either. He felt nothing, quite literally nothing, as he sat on the edge of his bed, the blankets pooling in his lap.

Morning light filtered in from the window over his head as memories returned to him slowly. The girl, the bar, the funeral, the casket…That same gaping emptiness in his chest. Abruptly, he wished he were asleep again. Unconsciousness, it seemed, was the only cure.

Suddenly, Fiearius experienced a pressing need to not be here when his ship-guest woke up. He stood to his feet, hastily pulled on a worn pair of trousers from the floor and crossed toward the hatch. Presumably, she could find her own way out.

He lowered himself clumsily down the ladder, and when his bare feet hit the floor, he found someone else in the hallway, staring at him.

Leta. Of course. Always around when she wasn’t needed.

She stood poised, her arms folded, glancing him over quickly, clinically. Her brow drew together in what might have been worry. “Is your friend still here?” was the first thing she said.

Fiearius blinked back at her slowly, some cogs in his tired head starting to turn. His voice still gravelly from sleep, he muttered, “What?”

“Your ‘friend,’” said Leta calmly, her expression clearing as she nodded at the hatch to his room. “Is she still here?”

So Leta had witnessed some key moments of last night, Fiearius realized. He wasn’t regretful, but he wasn’t feeling particularly proud of himself, either. Leta was looking over him searchingly, her lips thinning out to a frown. An awkward silence fell between them, until she said, “Ludo wants to talk to you. He’s waiting outside,” and turned around, the soles of her shoes clicking away down the hall.

Really, Fiearius had no idea what the fuck that was about. But he was quite sure he didn’t want to see Ludo, of all godsdamn people. Curious and already readying himself for a fight, Fiearius suddenly felt more awake as he stalked toward the cargo bay.

Outside the ship, Ludo stood with his heavy arms folded, squinting into the distance. An assault rifle sat angled against the ship near his feet. He turned when he noticed Fiearius crossing down the ramp.

“Captain,” he greeted solemnly. His ruddy face was empty of expression, as always; doubtful he’d been mourning like the rest of the crew.

Fiearius approached, already shaking his head in disgust. A lot of balls, this guy. After all that happened, after his betrayal, after Aiden’s death, to actually dare to talk to him? To want to talk to him even. Fiearius wasn’t sure if it was truly guts or just stupidity that had kept him from disappearing into the night like the rest of them.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“To come aboard,” grunted Ludo, like it was obvious, a waste of time to say so. “Apparently, I need permission, as a few members of your crew felt I should … not.”

Fiearius knew what that meant. It meant Corra had chased him out of the cargo bay with a loaded rifle.

“Well,” grunted Fiearius, already feeling the taint of anger in his blood, “I’m in agreement.” Deciding to be done with this conversation, he pushed himself from the wall and made to leave, but Ludo stepped in front of him.

“Agreement? With them?” he growled, redness flaring up his face. “How the hell could you kick me off? I’m the greatest asset you got.”

“You?” Fiearius laughed incredulously, slowing his walk. “Not even close. Aiden was the greatest asset. Not you. Definitely not you.”

“Hey,” Ludo grunted, his eyes narrowed to slits, “I ain’t the one who killed him.”

“Might as well have been,” Fiearius growled. “Those  who stirred up the panic are just as guilty as the one that pulled the trigger. And I know it was you who stole those oxygen masks.”

A slow laugh rolled out of him. “Oh you think so, do you?”

“Think? Think?!” Fiearius’ lip curled back as, in one motion, he suddenly seized the man’s shirt and tugged him in threateningly, nevermind the fact that Ludo was twice as broad. His voice lowered considerably, barely above a whisper. “Not the word I’d use. And to hell if you think I’d ever let a fucking snake like you back on my ship. This was the last straw of many. The last.”

But unexpectedly, Ludo didn’t grab for his weapon, he didn’t swing his fist.

Tensed and poised to explode, Ludo gritted out, “I know. I know, Fiearius! I see that. That’s why I’ll come back — and do the next few jobs for free. With no pay.”

For a moment, Fiearius was stunned. But he slowly released his grip and regarded the man suspiciously. “What makes you think I want you on the next few jobs?” he asked, but his tone had lost its harsh edge.

 

His feet carried him through the hallways of the ship, although Fiearius couldn’t recall making the decision to do so. He thought of nothing, his mind was nowhere. He was almost convinced that he was actually asleep and just moving through some dark, lingering dream. It occurred to him dimly that he needed to set a course, to find a next stop for the ship, but even that felt like a momentous task. After all, when they were aimless like this, the first person Fiearius consulted was Aiden.

The walk to the bridge felt miles long. Each step was exhausting, practically painful, but there was something welcome about the pain: he felt he deserved every ounce of it.

But before he could sink into his chair, he stopped in the doorway of the bridge, snapped out of his stupor.

Suddenly, Leta was inside the cabin, lingering there like a ghost. She was slanted against the dashboard, her hands braced at the counter behind her. Her round eyes were set evenly on him; clearly, she’d been awaiting his arrival.

Fiearius had never wanted company less in his life. She was going to bother him now? Really? Now, of all times?

“What?” he grunted, narrowing his eyes to a glare.

Leta’s forehead scrunched, as if she was curious, like she wanted to know that answer herself. “I don’t know,” she stated quietly.

Dread reared up inside him, and Fiearius suddenly knew why she was here. Leta was reasonable; she knew who really killed Aiden. She knew, more than anyone, that he should have addressed his crew days sooner. That he should have smoothed the situation over before it came to such a violent ending. She knew that it was his failure to act that had caused that little shit to fire that shot. And when had she ever spared him her scolding opinion before?

But then, something odd happened. As if it were the most natural act imaginable, Leta gently pushed herself off the dashboard, closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

It happened so smoothly that Fiearius couldn’t anticipate it: one second they were miles apart, the next moment, she was embracing him, a warm weight against his chest. He stared blankly over her head at the blinking controls, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides. But somehow Leta hugged him closer, her mouth and nose pressing against his shoulder.

“Fiear, I hope you don’t blame yourself for this,” she said quietly in his ear. In his blank shock, it took Fiearius a moment to realize what she even said, and then she continued, “Because it isn’t your fault.”

She was wrong, of course, but Fiearius could think of nothing to say; no one spoke to him like this. No one dared. Not for many years anyway. Abruptly, he tensed. He considered stepping to the side. Anything to stop this before she could say more.

But she didn’t move. If anything, Leta tightened her forearms across his back and went on softly, “I really think you did the right thing with Javier, letting him stay aboard. He’s really suffering right now. And I know you are too.” She paused and exhaled a trembling breath; he could feel it ruffle his hair. “I’m really going to miss Aid.”

It sounded like she might cry. So that’s what this was about? Not blame, after all, but a common loss, a common pain. Maybe she wasn’t here just for him. Maybe she was here for her too. At last, he lifted his arms, winding them around her waist.

“Me too,” he replied in a low voice.

When Leta spoke again, it was with a fierce kind of determination; she wasn’t crying. “Well, you don’t have to go through this alone,” she said hastily, and Fiearius wondered where this — all of this — could possibly be coming from, considering she had disrespected his leadership or at least disrespected him from the moment she stepped aboard.

But somehow, when she hugged him a second longer and then eased away gently, he felt the knot in his chest unravel slightly.

Breathing a shaky sigh, she held his shoulders and stepped back. “One last thing. There’s a note on the dashboard. From — from Aiden,” she said. “I think you should read it.”

She slid her hands off his shoulders slowly and left through the door. Fiearius watched her leave and stood there numbly for a moment, until his eyes found the discarded paper on the dashboard. He recognized Aiden’s neat, slanted writing as he read:

Sanilac,

This isn’t an easy letter to write, and I’m sure you understandably expected different news. However, at this time, I cannot rightfully accept the teaching position you so generously offered to me.

As it turns out, and probably you will find this particularly amusing, I’m not yet ready to deboard the Dionysian. The ship’s become something of a home to me. I’m sure you understand, open-minded as you are.

Most sincerely,

Aiden Artura

“All right, I can see what this is,” Aiden began evenly, clapping Fiearius on the shoulder warmly, as if this were a meeting he’d intended for all along. “I know you’re worried, I know you’re scared. But there’s no reason to pit anyone against anyone else. Fiearius has been keeping me updated every time he talks to Cyrus — ” This wasn’t exactly true in the strictest sense, Fiearius thought to himself. “And I’ve been giving everything I know straight to you. Everyone on this ship is on the same playing field. We’re concerned and, frankly, we have too much time on our hands.” He smiled.

“But captain’s been lying to us, Aiden,” said Maya quietly. “Said people on Satieri will kill him.”

“They will kill me,” Fiearius admitted bluntly, somehow finding another measure of calm. “And they’ll kill you too. They’ll kill all of you. If they had the chance, they’d kill everyone who I’ve ever said a single word to. You,” he added sarcastically, “are my wonderful loyal crew. Even if you don’t always look it…” He scratched his hair tiredly. “You’ll all be at the top of that list. You may not trust me. And that’s fine. But look at it this way. What reason would I have to lie to you? I don’t have time for useless mindgames. Why the hell would I make this up?”

“No one’s accusing you of making anything up,” Aiden said measuredly, before his eyes narrowed into a subtle glare of warning on the crew. “No one should be.” He let that warning hang pointedly in the air for a moment before he pressed on, glancing over the crew as though he was honestly a little confused by their intentions.

“We’re going to be fine,” he sighed earnestly. “Do you realize that yet? At least, we will be as long as we don’t continue to accuse and berate one another.” At this, he sent a look toward Maya. “I’m not sure where this pessimism is coming from, honestly,” he admitted. “We’ve gotten out of a lot worse than this.”

“You really believe that? That we can get outta this?” Palia pressed him worriedly.

“Of course I do.”

Then, Aiden stepped to the side, holding his hand toward the door, making it clear this meeting was, in fact, over. “Go on. We can revisit this when everyone’s cooled off,” he offered calmly. “And I’ll be in my room all evening if you want to talk privately.”

To Fiearius’ amazement, the crew began to file from the cabin. Amidst much grumbling, they left for the hallway, even Ludo, throwing Fiearius dirty looks along the way.

“I’ve got shit with you, Aid,” grunted Arlo as he left.

“And I’d be delighted to hear about it,” said Aiden politely. “Come by later.”

Leta was the last to leave. She lingered in the door wringing her hands together as she sent Fiearius a concerned, searching look, before slipping into the hallway.

Fiearius gazed after her for a few seconds and finally dropped into his captain’s chair at last, clapping a hand over his face.

“So this is going well,” he muttered. A dazed, mirthless grin spread over his face. And to think, soon Aiden would be leaving the Dionysian for good. “Bet you can’t wait to leave for that teaching job now, eh?”

“I haven’t accepted it yet, actually,” said Aiden as dropped into the chair beside him. He leaned back and sighed, “Yes. Things seem bleak, it’s true. But this will shake out the way its meant to. You’ve never led your sheep astray before.”

“Funny, I’ve never heard of sheep throwing a rebellion against their shepherd,” Fiearius muttered grimly, running a hand through his hair and stretching out his legs in front of him.

“They’ll come around,” said Aiden after a thoughtful pause. He sounded so sure. “They had their moment, and now they’ll come around.”

Fiearius cast him a dull, disbelieving glance. “Sometimes I think you’ve got too much faith in people, mate.”

Aiden was gazing out the window, silent for several seconds until he frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe you don’t have enough.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

In the hours following the crew’s confrontation, tension clouded the ship’s hallways like smoke, thick and stifling. There was no longer any ignoring the dwindling food supply, the worried looks, the confusion, the unknown. Leta had told herself not to think in absolutes or desperation, but it occurred to her horribly that the crew might have been right — this might have been it. And if that was the case, she’d have to send everything she knew about Ren’s whereabouts to his family  . . .

It was a sick thought. Pinching the bridge of her nose with one hand, Leta picked up the serving plate of food with the other and swept toward the stairs without even thinking, like clockwork. Feeding Cyrus was rather like feeding a pet, she thought — but then again, pets were vocal when they were hungry. Cyrus probably wouldn’t have noticed if herself or Corra had skipped bringing him a meal.

But of course, they never had. As she went downstairs to the engine room, Leta didn’t even glance toward the console; she didn’t need to in order to confirm Cyrus’ presence. Cyrus was a fixture in this space. Every time she saw him — or saw his back turned to her, more like — Leta barely resisted the urge to really check up on him: shine a flashlight in his eyes, shake him a little, make him shower and sleep, something.

“Dinner,” she announced, injecting some warmth into her tone as she reached for the emptied plate left behind (good, she thought, he was still eating). She was on the verge of turning for the exit once more when her eyes fell to the side, and she noticed Cyrus was not there.

Curiously, she cocked her head to the side, checking if he was elsewhere in the room, under the engine perhaps.

“Cy?”

Somehow, Leta doubted that it had been something positive that had drawn the engineer out of his cave. Leta slid the empty plate onto a workbench and hazarded a few steps toward his usual place, her eyes focusing on the row of consoles.

Only one of them was lit. Text blazed on the screen.

NO HARM WILL COME TO THE ENGINEER,

AS LONG AS NO HARM WILL COME TO THE CREW.

WE AWAIT RESOLUTION IN THE CARGO BAY.

Leta’s heart jumped into her throat and all she could do was stare, aghast. This was a ransom note. Staggering backwards, she kept her eyes on the console as her free hand dodged toward the wall, her fingers crushing the dial of the intercom to the bridge.

“Fiear?” she demanded into the cackling speaker. “You need to get down here. There’s a note, a note from the crew, it says they’ve got Cyrus — “

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Shock and adrenaline flooding her veins, Leta half-jogged to the cargo bay, her feet pounding the metal floor. She dodged to the door and nearly made it inside when a hand jerked her arm backwards.

It was Alistair. He gripped her elbow, his eyes shining in worry. “Leta, please, before you go in there … please, understand what we’re going through — “

“Where’s Cyrus?” Leta demanded, feeling close to panic. But then anger burst through her like wildfire and she wrenched her arm away. “If you’ve hurt him, I swear to — “

“Course we didn’t hurt him!” he cried. “And we don’t want to. But — “

Growling in her throat, Leta suddenly shoved his shoulder back, making him hit the wall with a thud. She fled past him into the cargo bay and a horrible scene met her eyes.

So this was what it had come to, she thought in shock: mutiny. Strong and united, the dissenting crew stood together in a neat half-circle in the middle of the room, their eyes on the main doors, awaiting the arrival of the captain. Behind them on the floor sat Cyrus, slumped against the wall, his wrists tied to a metal pipe. True to Alistair’s word, Cyrus did not appear harmed; he simply looked exhausted to the point of sickness, his eyes closing drowsily.

“Cy!”

Leta began to cut forward, her eyes on his bound wrists, and for the moment Maya and Arlo and Tihla seemed too stunned by the authority in her step to even react. But then someone closed in on her and blocked her path like a boulder: Ludo.

“No, not a chance, doctor,” he said with a rough laugh. “This is the only card we have to play. You ain’t ruining that.” He used the gun in his hand to gesture to the stairs. “Go on, go back up there now.”

Leta eyed the barrel of his gun for a moment before lifting her eyes. “I’m not moving,” she said coldly, and that was when alarm rippled over the room like a cold breeze. “Untie him. Untie him right now.”

Murmurs of worry swept over the crew, and then Javier cried out, “Wait!”

He edged closer, looking very white in the face. Leta realized that someone had given the kid a gun; he gripped it tightly with both hands.