“And this is the entrance to the living quarters,” the woman explained. “It’s quite large and can be a tad mazelike, but once you learn your way it becomes second nature.” She drew out her tablet again. “Now, would you two like separate quarters or…?”

Suddenly, Corra realized she had gotten so caught up in seeing this place and their guide was so efficient that she hadn’t even mentioned why she was there. “Oh, no!” she answered hurriedly, shaking her head. “No no no, I–”

Cai was laughing. “Oh, it’d be that bad huh? Thanks,” he teased, but Corra felt herself turn bright red.

“What? I didn’t mean–”

But Cai just squeezed her shoulder affectionately and asked the woman, “Actually I was wondering if my friends had made it here yet?”

The woman smiled. “Sure, we can check.” Her embarrassment subsiding, Corra listened as Cai started to rattle off numbers and the woman tapped them into her tablet. Finally she answered, “They are! All four of them are in F-14 block which is–”

But before she could even explain, Cai had already headed off into the hall. “I’ll find it!” he called back over his shoulder, making their guide crease her forehead in confusion.

Corra, however, felt a little stunned. What, that was it? She saved him from an ally hunter, listened to his whole life story, fed him, bathed him, clothed him, brought him to the Conduit and he was just going to run off into the ship and disappear forever? Without even a word of thanks or recognition or anything?

She couldn’t stop herself. “Well, bye,” she called after him, the bitterness reeking from her tone.

Cai stopped in his tracks and looked back at her, perplexed. It took him a moment to realize his mistake. “I’ll meet you back at the Beacon in a bit, okay?” he called and Corra immediately felt stupid for assuming otherwise.

“Okay,” she muttered awkwardly as he waved goodbye and disappeared. Still trying to battle her cheeks from flushing, she turned back to the woman who asked, “So–to your new quarters then?”

Corra almost felt guilty. Clearly this was her one job and neither of the new arrivals were interested.

“I’m sorry, this place is amazing, but I–I have a ship, a home. I can’t stay.” The disappointment was obvious in her face. Disappointment and especially confusion when Corra added, “I was actually hoping I could meet the First Free.”

—————-

The main center of the Conduit was a bustling sea of people, typing away on consoles. Along the wall were neatly stacked books Corra recognized in an instant: Goddora’s record books. She walked along, fascinated. This must have been the hub for those agents Cai had mentioned.

At the heart of the room, a tall, poised woman paced back at forth at a large console, talking harshly into its COMM. A number of other people hovered around her impatiently. Corra’s guide was hesitant, but she lead her closer.

“This could be our only chance to do this,” Corra heard the tall woman say, her voice strong. “We have to make it work. If something else happens before–” She leaned forward and gripped the console in frustration. “Yes, I’m aware of that but–” She groaned. “Alright. Fine. I’ll figure something else out.” She slammed the disconnect button with her thumb and tore the headset from her ear. “Find me someone else to call,” she ordered to a man standing nearby who hurried off at once.

Corra could not take her eyes off the woman. The barking demands, the husky voice, the authority in her walk — it really was her. And when she turned around and scanned the room with that sharpened face of hers, their eyes met across the room and she softened.

“Captain,” began Corra’s guide nervously.  “This woman arrived and wanted to see you so–”

But Raisa didn’t need an explanation.

“Corra,” she breathed in disbelief, suddenly crossing over and catching Corra in a loving, almost painful hug. Raisa had always been known by the younger allies for her crushing hugs. The woman had been the reigning maternal figurehead amongst Goddora’s stock. She’d practically raised Corra since she’d first been dropped off there. Although Cai hadn’t told her much of anything about the Conduit’s supposed First Free, Corra wasn’t at all surprised to find Raisa standing here at the center of it.

“Goodness, girl, aren’t you someone I never thought I’d see with my own eyes again,” she said, releasing her to seize her shoulders and hold her at arm’s length. “I’ve had an agent trying to track down that damn pirate that bought you for months, but that ship’s a ghost. And yet here you are anyway!” She pulled her into another hug. “I’m so glad you were able to escape.”

Corra, choking under the pressure, only got out, “Actually, I–” before the man Raisa had barked at reappeared and said, “Captain, none of our other agents are nearby. They couldn’t make it in time even if they weren’t already occupied.”

Finally Raisa released her and put her hand to her forehead. “Dammit,” she muttered. Glancing back at Corra she said, “I’m sorry, girl, you came at a real bad time. Maybe I can get someone to show you around or–”

Corra suddenly sensed her chance. “That’s okay. What’s going on?” she asked, jumping on it.

Raisa sighed and stalked back towards her console. “We’ve located a property on an Ellegian moon with some fifty Un-Frees accounted for. Conditions are bad. Real bad. And security’s tight. Our agent infiltrated a few months ago, but there’s no way those people are gonna be able to free themselves. They need our help.”

Corra hovered behind her shoulder, peering around her at the console screen which showed a roughly sketched drawing of some building layouts. “So how do we help?”

“To extract that many, we’re gonna need a distraction. Something big enough to keep the owners occupied while we clear the buildings. Tomorrow night, we’re getting just that. A meteor shower is passing by the moon. The owners are planning a huge garden party to view it meaning those buildings will be empty, their eyes will be averted and it’s the perfect moment to escort fifty people off the property.”

“But?” Corra pressed.

“But, we have no one to execute it,” Raisa explained. “All of our agents are too far away to make it and the few that aren’t are busy with pre-existing operations. We have no one aboard the Conduit prepared for this sort of thing, nor would any Free be able to pass off as a guest to make it inside the outer gates to begin with. Ellegians have hawk-eyes for notches. They’d be turned away at the front door.”

Corra put her finger to her lips. “So all you need is some people who can pass off as classy to make it into the party and then help the alli–Un-Frees–get out?”

“Exactly. And that is the one thing we don’t currently have.”

Corra felt a sly smile coming to her face. “I think I might be able to help.”

– – – –

Corra couldn’t wait to get back to the Beacon and tell Finn. The plan was already starting to weave itself in her head. It was perfect, practically fool-proof and it would end in fifty more allies freed. How could he say no?

She rushed through the hallways of the Conduit, past the garden, through the market and finally arrived into the cargo bay where she spotted Finn slanted against the wall, smoking a cigarette by himself.

“Riley!” she exclaimed as she bounded up the ramp, breath barely in her lungs. “Riley, there’s a job–well assignment–we can do it! We can totally do it. There’s a party and a meteor shower and some locks, but I can pick those and I’ll need to talk to Leta and–oh, maybe I could–we’ll have aliases, yeah and–”

“Whoa,” said Finn, exhaling a plume of smoke and pulling the cigarette from his mouth. “Slow down there, tiger.”

Corra heaved a deep breath and grinned up at him. “Riley, we can help these people. Really help them. I–I really want to help them.”

“Yeah,” said Finn, his expression shifting between confusion and amusement. “I can see that.” He straightened off the wall, letting the cigarette drop to his feet. “What’s going on?”

“The Conduit needs us for a job.”

Considering Finn’s surly mood the past two days, she expected something of a fight. But to her shock and relief, Finn nodded once and said, “if it’s important to you, let’s do it.”

Corra couldn’t help it: she suddenly threw her arms around his middle, making him stagger backwards in surprise as he let out a snorting laugh. Releasing him, she stepped back and suddenly remembered. “Wait. What about Callahan?”

For a moment, Finn hesitated. But then he unleashed a broad grin. “Eh, he can wait.”

“Where?” said Finn skeptically, scanning over the horizon of the vast desert landscape. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but as far as he could tell, there was nothing on this planet. Except —

“That’s it!” Cai exclaimed.

“What is it?”

There, at the base of a dune, were the ruins of a great old warship, the likes of which hadn’t been seen flying for well over a century. Half of the ship seemed to have disintegrated into the sand while the other half sat proudly atop it, nested in its own twisted metal debris. It was a huge, great mass of grey, singed in black from a fire long gone out. Upon its side, in faded white letters, was a word: CONDUIT.

“That’s the Conduit?” Corra gasped. “An old wreckage in the middle of the desert?”

“That’s it,” confirmed Cai, smiling at it with admiration.

“Is anyone even in there?” Finn mumbled.

“Uh, yes,” said Alyx, sounding suddenly panicked as she hurried back to her console which had started beeping in her absence. “Definitely yes. It’s locking weapons onto us.”

“Shit, what?” said Finn, quickly dropping back into the pilot’s seat and seizing the controls. Overhead, the warning alarms began to blare.

“I’m sending a peace COMM, but they’re not responding,” Alyx said hurriedly over the noise. “They’re still locked and loading.”

“Damnit, we’ve got to — ” Finn groaned, but suddenly Cai had stepped up to the console and took the COMM into his hand.

“Malo periculosam, libertatem quam quietam servitutem,” he said into it, to Finn’s confusion.

Tense silence filled the bridge. Then, the alarm abruptly stopped.

“They disarmed,” she said with a sigh of relief as she looked about the cabin at the others. And then a cool, calm voice rang out over the bridge.

“Confirmed, BKN-500. You are cleared to dock. Welcome to the Conduit.”

– – –

With Cai and Finn in tow, Corra strode down the Beacon’s ramp into the Conduit’s vast, decrepit hangar. Nerves and excitement ran up her spine.

After spending the last day in the company of Cai, the familiarity of other allies had all flooded back to her. She’d spent so long away from her people, she’d forgotten the unspoken bonds of kinship between anyone with a notch taken out of their ear and it was strangely wonderful to have that again. People who understood without need of explanation. People who didn’t wonder quietly or internally speculate or secretly pity. People who got it.

But as at home as she felt around one freed ally, she didn’t quite believe that feeling would extend to a whole group of them. Especially a whole group of them she was convinced she had betrayed for the last four years, having never made any effort to help them herself. She couldn’t help but think they were going to reject her and her offer of help.

The Conduit’s hangar didn’t do much inviting of its own. Much like the exterior of the ship, it was falling apart. Catwalks barely hung from their chains, supports looked as though they might crumble at any moment and the blast doors they’d flown through didn’t quite close all the way, letting in a constant breeze of desert wind and sand. There were a few large cargo ships docked alongside the Beacon, coated in the white dust, but it was quiet. Empty save for the small welcoming party waiting at the base of the ramp.

Two men and three women, allies (or Frees, Corra corrected), and all of them, save for one, had their guns raised. Apparently the Conduit took its security seriously.

“Hi,” greeted Cai casually, as though someone wasn’t pointing a weapon at his head. “I was told I could come here by–”

“Ally IDs?” interrupted one of the women.

“Oh,” said Cai in surprise. Then he quickly recited, “2105447,” and the Frees turned to Corra, who blinked.

God, she hadn’t had to use her Ally ID in ages. “4305256,” she said after a moment, and she could sense Finn glancing at her in surprise.

The only weaponless woman pulled out a tablet. She tapped the screen for a moment and then smiled at them kindly. “Thank you. You are welcome here. From now on, those numbers are meaningless. You are documented as a Free and you may choose any name you wish for the record. I hope your journeys here haven’t been too taxing. Please, follow me.” She turned towards the door behind her. Corra glanced at Cai, Cai shrugged cheerfully and they fell into step behind her. Finn fell into step behind them. But only for a moment.

“Hold it,” said one of the men with the guns, stopping Finn in his tracks. Corra glanced back.

“Oh it’s okay, he’s with me,” she said at once, but the woman shook her head.

“I’m afraid without a thorough background check, your friend can’t be admitted into the main holding. We have no other way to verify intentions, you understand.”

An awkward pause hung between them. It didn’t seem right leaving him behind on something like this, but …

“Sorry, Riley,” said Corra. “We’ll be back soon, alright?”

“Sure.” Finn’s tone was neutral, though he sent Cai an uneasy glance.  “I’ll wait here.”

Finally, Corra followed their leader through the main rusty hangar doors. Once the doors shut behind them, Corra gasped.

The deck was practically a mile long,adorned with colored tarps and flags. Murals and signs were hastily painted on nearly every hard surface. Stalls of fruit and flowers and produce filled the place from wall to wall and a mass of people filtered around them. It was as though someone had stolen a piece of Tarin and crammed it into this ship.

“This is the main market,” their guide explained, nearly shouting to be heard over the noise. “Approved vendors are permitted to land in the hangar and sell goods alongside resident merchants. We have a few dozen that come in once or twice a month to import foreign items.”

Corra couldn’t help herself from looking around in wide-eyed wonder as they moved through the space. She hadn’t seen so many allies in one place since Kadolyne. And she’d never seen them smile as much as these people were smiling…

They passed through the bustling market and down a hallway. Their guide explained, “This path will take you to many of the ship’s amenities. We currently have just over seven hundred residents, filling barely a sixth of the ship. It’s an entirely self-sufficient civilization. All residents work to upkeep and improve the livelihood of the community and the ship and are paid for their time. If you peer through the door to the right, you’ll see the garden where we grow most of the ship’s food.”

‘Garden’ was an understatement. They seemed to have converted an entire hangar bay into a fully functional indoor farm. Corra watched as people moved through the fields, tending to the crops leisurely. It was only when she heard the guide’s voice again, a little ways off, that she remembered to follow.

“All new residents are given a job and private quarters of their own. Three meals a day are provided free of charge in one of ten community dining halls, each with different specialties. We have a fitness facility, a spa, an indoor park, we’ve even just opened an art gallery or so I’m told.”

“God,” Corra breathed wonderously. “It sounds like a paradise.”

The guide, who up until now had been quite formal, turned back to her and smiled. “It really is.” She stopped in front of a large door. Beyond it, Corra could see a large hallway with doors on either side, most of them open and inviting. Children ran about between them. Laundry lines spanned the passage. Every wall, originally sterile and steel, had been painted bright and colorful.

Corra watched him for a moment, feeling strange all of a sudden. Was it guilt that was making her stomach churn? Here was a man who had just fought to get loose in the world, clearly starving and dirty and barely alive and already he was dedicating his life to helping his fellow allies. And here was Corra, free for four years with a ship and a crew and resources at her disposal and she hadn’t done a single thing.

Which made it all the worse when he asked, “What about you?”

She stared at him, feeling caught. What about her? She was almost afraid to even tell him what her life looked like.

“How long have you been free?” he asked, oblivious to the shame creeping over her. “Have you just been living in Genisi? I heard it was the best place to lay low, that’s why I came here. Not sure how true that is though, all things considered…”

Corra wasn’t listening to his questions. Her mind was churning suddenly with possibilities. She had always said that she wanted her own ship so that she could help other allies. She had the ship and now that they were getting consistent gigs, she had the funds and she even had Finn’s approval from when she’d brought it up a while ago. She just hadn’t ever known how.

When she didn’t answer him, Cai just kept talking to fill the silence. “I’ve been switching up my home base though, y’know? There’s a lot of old abandoned buildings in this city to sleep in. And the weather’s been pretty mild at least, even at night.”

Maybe the universe was sending her a sign. Maybe now was finally the time for her to live up to her promises and take action. It was a message. A message that came in the form of a skinny, bony starving man.

She looked up at him and he stared back at her, confused. “So…you don’t have any food do you?”

“Hang on,” said Corra sharply. “Do you know how to get in touch with these Conduit people?”

“Yeah, of course,” he assured her. “I just haven’t had a chance to, not a lot of consoles around here to–”

But Corra grabbed his arm for the second time today and started to march him towards the door. “I’ll get you a console,” she said. “And I’ll get you some food. And a shower, if you want it. Just come with me to my ship.”

“Oh, yes, that sounds great, I’d–” Cai stopped himself. “Wait. You have a ship?”

– – – – –

“I don’t get it,” said Addy’s voice, crackling through the intercom speakers. She was down in the engine room below Finn’s feet while he sat in the captain’s chair, looking over a half dozen glowing screens in the bridge. “What’s the big deal about Callahan’s ship?”

Finn frowned. After his meeting with Callahan, he’d had the crew load the vessel into the Beacon. As promised, he’d told the crew to stay out of the cargo bay for the duration of the trip. Though it was still unclear why.

“It did look pretty ordinary,” he admitted.

‘It doesn’t just look ordinary, it is ordinary,” Addy went on curiously. “You run into at least five of these models at any major port. Probably one of the cheapest ships you can buy. And I scanned it, there’s nothing odd or impressive about the engine or its tech. Why is he so protective of it?”

‘Who knows,” Finn grunted, leaning back in his seat and drumming his fingers atop the dashboard. “Maybe his client’s just paranoid.”

“Or maybe … “ Addy lifted her voice with excitement. “He’s hiding treasure inside!”

Finn grinned to himself. Addy had recently taken a liking to this pirating business. “Or,” said Finn, “he’s just smuggling weapons.”

“Or treasure! Are you sure we can’t just get in the ship real quick and check it out?”

“We’re already teetering on the edge of Callahan’s favor, best not piss him off again. He says stay away from the cargo, we stay away from the cargo.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.”

“Just get back to your post,” said Finn, sitting up in his chair. “As soon as Corra gets back, we’re leaving this rock.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n buzzkill.”

Smirking slightly, Finn disconnected the call. Just then, footsteps near the doorway made him turn around.

“Speak of the devil,” he called to Corra warmly. But it wasn’t just Corra entering the bridge: she was pulling someone by the arm, a man Finn had never seen before and frankly he looked like she’d found him in a gutter.

Just when Finn opened his mouth blankly, Corra said, “Cai, this is Finn Riley. Riley, this is Cai.” The man smiled, confused, and waved the hand Corra wasn’t holding hostage. He might have been about to say something, but then Corra exclaimed, “We were captured by ally hunters!”

Finn held up his hand in alarm. “Wait, what?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, we got away,” Corra assured him, shaking off his concern. “But listen. You have to hear about this. Cai here, he told me he’s part of this — this — movement. It’s called the Conduit and it’s a bunch of allies–”

“Frees,” Cai corrected.

“Helping other allies–”

“Un-frees.”

“ — Escape their owners!” Suddenly bouncing up on her feet, Corra grinned at him so brightly, so happily, that Finn almost believed she wasn’t talking about enslavement for a moment. “Riley, we have to contact these people! We have to help them!”

Finn paused, catching his hand in his unruly hair. Clearly, whatever had happened today — and he was unclear what that was exactly — had sent Corra into one of her chains of excitement.

“You want to help free allies?” he said faintly “I — well, that sounds great. But you know…we have a job to do, right? For Callahan?”

Corra’s grin faltered. “Right. Yeah I know. But maybe we could just really quickly–”

Finn shook his head. “Callahan said take this ship to his client right away. No stops. No delays. He meant it.”

Corra’s expression fell into a desperate portrait of despair. Even Cai averted his eyes awkwardly. It was only took seconds for Finn’s thin resolve to weaken and he gave one irresponsible shrug of the shoulder.

“But –” he muttered, and Corra looked up hopefully. He grinned. “Eh, I’m sure we could pull it off.”

With a deep breath, Corra wrenched her arms backwards and threw herself forward from their grasp. Both of her captors, shocked by the sudden shift in weight, stumbled forwards, losing their balance. In the half-second awarded her, Corra swung her elbow into the left one’s head. He staggered backwards and the other attempted to grab her, but she ducked under his swipe and pulled her other arm free as well. Immediately, she went for the gun on the ground and in an instant, had fired off a shot into his shoulder.

He let out a yell of pain, the other shouted, “Shit, get her!” and although Corra would have liked to blow off all of their heads for touching her, when she saw them reaching for weapons of their own, she knew she had to take the safer option: run.

She spun around on her heel and started pounding down the street as fast as her legs could carry her. She could hear the men behind her starting their pursuit, but she had a head start and lot less weight to carry. If she just kept going, if she just kept running, she would be okay —

The same could not be said of someone else. As Corra rushed down the street, she started to gain on the original chase scene. She could see the back of the bound man further up ahead, still pressing onward, but losing speed every second. His pursuer was nearly upon him and Corra was nearly upon his pursuer.

Well, he’d helped her. It was only fair.

As she ran, she raised her gun, squinted her eyes, aimed and fired. The man dropped to the ground, sliding a few feet in the dirt before coming to a stop. Corra jumped over his body just as the bound man too looked back. He slowed and kept slowing and stopped, standing in the middle of the street, staring back at the body in some mixture of shock and wonder. And then there was another gunshot from behind her and his eyes grew wide with panic, but he didn’t move, still standing there like a deer in headlights.

Corra rolled her eyes. Idiot. And as she passed, she snagged her arm through the loop of his and pulled. “Come on!” Fortunately, he was just smart enough to follow.

They kept running, with the occasional sharp bang from behind them, but their pursuers were even slower than Corra anticipated. Now she just had to shake them once and for all.

“This way!” she shouted to her silent companion who just trailed along with her as she turned a corner onto a different street. She turned yet once more,  barreled down an alley and, without a second thought, slid through the crack in a large metal door. Then and only then, in the darkness of what looked like an abandoned storage unit did she release the man she’d been dragging and slow down.

Trying to catch her breath, Corra paced back and forth, doubled over and heaving as she listened for any sounds from the alley outside. But there were no footsteps, no gunfire, nothing. All she could hear was her own breathing and that of the man standing ten feet away.

Now that her eyes had adjusted to the low light, she looked over at him. He seemed a bit odd. Under-fed by the looks of it, the way his ribs were just barely poking out. His dark hair was too long and too scraggly and obviously hadn’t been washed in a while and his bronze skin had a hint of grey pallor along with the usual coating of Archetian dirt. The only part of him that seemed to belong to a living person were his dark eyes that blinked back at her, alert and panicked and shaken.

And then he said “Mmgh uuhh mmff mm ihh?”

Corra raised her brows at him. Oh right. The gag.

“God, sorry, of course,” she laughed breathlessly, stepping towards him and reaching up to untie the cloth that had been hastily secured around his mouth. As she did, she couldn’t help but notice a familiar notch had been taken out of his left ear.

He was an ally.

“Ah, thanks,” he sighed as the cloth fell away and Corra moved on to untie his wrists. “Can’t tell you how uncomfortable that was.” The rope too dropped to the ground and the man stretched out his arms in wonder. “That too.”

Corra eyed him skeptically. “So those guys,” she prompted, lifting her brows. “Ally hunters?”

He made a clicking noise with his tongue and pointed his index finger at her. “You got it.” He glanced at the metal door a little nervously. “They’ve been chasing me for weeks. I thought it was over when they caught me today finally. But then you showed up and distracted them and–” He laughed a little wildly. “I guess I’m free for another day. Thanks for that, by the way.” He smiled, but it vanished quickly as he added, “And sorry.”

Corra shrugged. “Not your fault,” she assured him, but then cast him a glare. “Unless you told them about me.”

He shook his hands in front of him. “No no! Wasn’t me. That lot’s just extra good at spotting notches from a distance.” He pointed to his ear and then shoved his hand towards her. “I’m Cailean by the way. Cai, if ya please.”

“Corra,” she introduced, taking the hand and shaking it.

“So where’d you escape from then?” he asked, without skipping a beat, catching Corra off-guard. No one had asked her that since–well, ever. Who she belonged to, she got a lot. Where her owner was, sure. But where she’d escaped from? She’d never met another free ally before. ‘Escape’ wasn’t part of ally vocabulary.

“Uh, nowhere,” she muttered uncomfortably, completely lost on how to answer.

But Cai just cracked a smile. “Oh come on, you can tell me, I swear I won’t sell you out. Us Frees look out for one another y’know?”

“No, really,” Corra insisted. “I didn’t escape from anywhere. I was bought and the man who bought me let me go.” Cai blinked at her as though he didn’t understand, but Corra was more interested in something else. “Wait, did you say ‘Frees’? As in…there are more of you?”

“More of me? No. I’m one of a kind.” He grinned stupidly and she couldn’t help but laugh. “More Frees though? Yeah, more and more of us each day. I’m part of the Conduit.” He must have sensed her confusion because he went on, “You haven’t heard of it? It’s a huge movement of Frees to break away Un-Frees from their owners. It was started by the First Free. She and her followers escaped their trade compound in the chaos after Solon Goddora was killed and have been helping others get out ever since.”

Corra couldn’t believe her ears. Goddora? Her mouth fell open. “No fucking way…”

Cai faltered, raising his brows at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she insisted, internally vowing to tell Leta about this later. What would she think knowing she’d played a part in starting a ‘huge movement’ to free allies? “Who’s the First Free? What’s her name?”

Cai faltered again. “Eh, I’m not actually sure.”

“Oh, well…how does the Conduit do it? How do they free allies?”

He grimaced. “Eh, not really sure about that either.”

Corra frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought you said you were part of it.”

He provided her a sheepish smile. “Right, well…Not exactly.” When she just stared at him, unimpressed, he added, “Not yet anyway. See I only just escaped myself and most of that time has been spent avoiding hunters. So yeah. Going to be part of it? Absolutely. Spend the rest of my life helping others be free? That’s the plan. Actually part of it right now?” He shrugged. “Not quite.”

“He’ll be fine,” Corra told her, putting her hand on Leta’s back. “If it’s his health you’re worried about — listen, he’s got Daelen. Daelen’s fantastic. He’s got this. And I’m not worried about stupid Fiearius anyway. I’m worried about you. How are you doing? Honestly.”

“I’m okay. Really.” Leta put her chin in her hand. Usually, Leta was not one to  divulge her personal life, but they had been drinking for a few hours now. She went on, her voice careful, “Mostly it’s just strange. Waking up in a new room on the Beacon instead of, you know. With him.”

“Hey.” Corra smirked. “I offered to let you stay with me in my quarters.”

“Thanks,” Leta laughed. “I may take you up on that. Not exactly the same, though.”

Corra drummed her fingers against her glass, but did not take her eyes off her friend. “You don’t really miss him though do you? After what he did?”

“It’s not just the lying — it’s what he said to me afterwards. He said that he can’t trust me with some things. If he didn’t tell me about the Flush, who knows what else he was keeping from me?” Leta’s eyebrows shot up on her forehead, as if bitterly impressed. “What a load of shit.” She shook her head, dazed. Then she quickly grabbed for her glass and brought it closer, almost urgently. “Anyway, I don’t miss him yet. But I have a bad feeling I will. Which is why I had to leave.”

Corra stared at her sadly. She didn’t really have any experience of her own in this matter, so she couldn’t totally understand what Leta was feeling or why. All she knew was that, “You made the right choice.” A grin slid across her face. “Leaving the Dionysian was the best thing I ever did. And I guarantee you it’ll be the best thing you ever did. That ship’s a leaky lifeboat. It gets you out of a tough spot alive, barely, but you and me? We don’t need that anymore. We’ve already made it to shore. Time to move on.”

To Corra’s surprise and relief, Leta actually smiled — a real smile that spread across her face. The first one she’d seen in days.

“I’ll cheers to that,” Leta said, tilting her glass against hers.

– – – –

Hours later, Corra was proud that she and Leta were the very last ones still in the bar, talking and laughing until the whole place had emptied out. Arm-in-arm, they’d stumbled back to the Beacon, and Corra waved to Leta as she veered toward her bedroom.

Feeling more sober than Leta looked, Corra went up the stairs toward her own room, but then she noticed that the main lights in the bridge were still on, illuminating the hallway. At this hour? Finn spent half his life in the bridge, but it was still late, even for him.

Inside, Finn was in the pilot’s seat, his feet propped up on the console screen. A book lay open in his lap, and he looked up.

“She returns,” he said warmly. He leaned back in his seat, his palms at his neck. “How was your night out, captain?”

Corra plopped into the seat beside him and kicked off her heels. “A very handsome gentleman bought me a drink and seemed pretty impressed about my ship.”

“Our ship,” said Finn at once, but then he grinned, rather flirtatiously.  “Sounds like it went well — you trying to make me jealous?”

Corra rolled her eyes. It was well-established that her relationship with Finn was a professional one. Well. Professional with occasional — nay, regular as of late — extras added in. Still, their trysts was just that — trysts — though this did not prevent Finn from using lines on her. Fortunately, he only did so when they were alone.

“Not on your life, Riley,” she replied, her tone shutting him down, but her smile telling a different story.

“If your night went so well, why’re you home early, then?”

Corra sighed. “Because tonight wasn’t about that. It was about Leta.” Her expression softened. “I’m worried about her. She’s just down, y’know? This whole week, no matter what I do, she’s just quiet and distant…”

“Well, it hasn’t been long since …. ”

“I know.” She pulled her legs up onto the chair to sit cross-legged, laying her hands in her lap. “I only wish I could help.” She fell quiet for a moment as she looked down at her foot. But then she remembered. “She still hates you by the way.”

Finn not look perturbed. “I figured.”

“It was pretty crappy of you,” Corra insisted. “To keep this from her. By all the rules of friendship, I should be mad with you too, honestly.”

“By the rules of friendship? Corra, it’s those ‘rules of friendship’ that kept me from telling her to begin with. If Leta came to you and told you a secret and said not to mention it to anybody else, even if you knew it was hurting somebody, would you?”

Corra’s resolve faltered. “No,” she admitted. “I guess if I promised, I wouldn’t tell…”

“Besides, I did keep a dangerous secret for Leta once. Remind her of that next time she calls for my head on a stake.”

Corra laughed. “And have her mad at me? No thanks.”

Finn sat up, dropping his book onto the dashboard. “Well at least I have good news,” he said, and Corra perked up.

“You do? Did you get us a job?”

Finn nodded. “Callahan got ahold of me today. Says he has a good one lined up for us.”

Though the Beacon had been working with Callahan for five months now, Corra still wasn’t particularly fond of the man. He was slimy, and he was still disgustingly dedicated to the idea that Corra was an ally that belonged to Finn — no matter how many times Finn corrected him. Despite how she’d consistently proven herself to be just as competent as anyone else aboard the ship, he still refused to look at her when they were in the same room. So to Corra, this news was not particularly good.

“Ugh,” she groaned, sinking back into her chair. “Him?”

“Hey, I’m not crazy about him either, but just wait til you hear the pay.”

She lifted her eyebrows skeptically. “How much?”

Finn grinned. “Oh just enough to keep us job-free for two months.”

Corra’s eyes grew wide and she sat back up again. “Wait — what? That much? Why?” She frowned. “What’s the catch?”

Finn shrugged. “No catch as far as I can tell. He’s a little bit desperate for this job. It’s just a ship he needs delivered, like usual. Only the destination’s not exactly a five star resort and I guess the ship is something special. Sounds easy.”

Corra didn’t quite believe it. In her experience on the Dionysian, easy always meant ‘‘too good to be true.’ But as much as she disliked Callahan, he hadn’t lead them astray so far and if he really was paying such a sum, it was worth investigating at the very least.

“So we’re headed to Archeti then?”

“First thing in the morning.” He paused, and added playfully, “If I have my co-captain’s approval, that is.”

“It’s yours,” Corra snorted, giving him a lazy salute with her fingers. Then she pushed herself to her bare feet and stretched her arms over her head. “I’m off to bed then.”

Finn turned back to the console screen as Corra walked toward the door. Before she left, she tapped her finger against the light controls, switching them off so semi-darkness fell through the room. Finn frowned at her, puzzled, but then he seemed to understand completely as Corra said, “You coming with me, or what?”

“Well, she’s gone,” he said abruptly and even without looking, Fiearius could feel the judgment in his stance. He knew Cyrus stood with his arms crossed over his chest, frown on his face, a pose he’d seen a thousand times before.

“The Beacon’s just taken off,” he went on flatly. “I brought her most of her things, but if you have anything else, put it in a box and I’ll make sure they get to her later.”

So Leta’s room had been emptied. At some point, he’d have to rid his own quarters of her. She left clothes in there, sometimes. And her books.

“Daelen’s moved into her old quarters and is setting up the infirmary,” Cyrus continued. “He’s going to help you through detox.” A long silence passed, before Cyrus took a deep breath and continued further. “He says you have a couple days left before your symptoms amplify so in that couple days, you need to figure out what we’re doing with the ship for the next few weeks. Where we can dock, how we’re going to eat.”

This time, Cyrus’ pause was even more expectant. He wanted an answer, But Fiearius still said nothing until Cyrus said impatiently, “Okay? Can you do that?”

Numbly, Fiearius nodded.

“Good,” he said shortly. Fiearius heard him turn to walk away. But he stopped a few steps later. “Oh and you can explain to the crew why none of them will be getting paid for the next month as well,” he added coldly before marching off down the hall, his footsteps fading behind him.

– – –

The bar was crowded and noisy, the din of conversation warmly filling the room as drinks were poured and shots were thrown back. Music spilled from shabby speakers in the corner, and as Corra reached for her cocktail, she decided a night out was just what the doctor ordered. Especially since the handsome man at her side asked conversationally, sounding fascinated, “So you’re a ship captain then?”

“Sure am,” she said proudly, raising her glass at him before bringing to her lips. Well, co-captain, technically, though this lot didn’t need to know that.  Why ruin it with technicalities? Instead, she went on, “Own the ship myself too. Great, beautiful boat like you wouldn’t believe. State of the art and everything.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t believe it for a reason,” said the man’s friend, who was surveying Corra with disbelief from behind the rim of his beer. Corra just rolled her eyes.

Fortunately, the other man was not dissuaded. “You don’t mean that big one I saw on the docks? Landed yesterday? All smooth curves and light metal?”

“That’s the one!” Corra cheered, grinning at him. “That’s my Beacon.”

“Good gods,” laughed the man in surprise. “That ship must have cost a fortune.”

Corra just shrugged, sipping her fruity cocktail. “Beats me,” she said, an image of innocence before she dropped the bomb. “I stole it.”

It worked just as she anticipated. Both men looked astonished and impressed. Feeling particularly proud of herself, Corra lifted her chin and sipped her drink nonchalantly. She was about to launch into the epic tale of how she’d managed the feat (which would exclude the fact that Cyrus and Leta had done the actual theft), when she glanced across the room and noticed Leta.

She did not appear to be enjoying herself.

Twenty minutes ago, Corra had left her in the company of some tall man with good hair who seemed reasonably witty. Corra thought Leta would’ve enjoyed his company, but it didn’t seem that way: Leta was leaning against the wall, looking more interested in her glass of whiskey than the man who appeared to be droning through a long, self-indulgent story.

Well that wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Corra had brought Leta out tonight with the intention of having fun. It had only been a week since the Great Breakup, which may have been too early to start hitting the dock bars full of shipchasers and fleeting romances, but Leta had reluctantly agreed to it anyway. Now that she saw the discomfort in Leta’s face, even from over here, Corra knew this wasn’t for the best.

“Another story for another time, I’m afraid,” she told her adoring fans, as she slipped from the bar stool and melted into the crowd of people. When she reached Leta, the woman’s eyes lit up with hope and Corra knew exactly what to do.

“Chicka, come here, I need to have an actually active and interesting conversation with you,” she said loudly, cutting off Leta’s obnoxious companion. Corra cut him a sharp glare. “Unlike some people.” The look on his face made it clear that he got the hint. Not that Corra felt bad. He had one job. One simple job of entertaining her friend and he couldn’t even do that. Useless.

Leaving him behind, she lead Leta back to the bar and nodded to the bartender to get them both refills. “Y’know,” she said at last, “If you didn’t want to come out tonight, you could have told me. We didn’t have to.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to,” Leta argued. “I thought it’d be a good distraction.”

“It’s okay,” Corra assured her with a smile as the man behind the bar returned with their drinks. “We can still drink, just the two of us.”

“I never really liked mingling in bars,” Leta admitted, and Corra laughed.

“It’s definitely not for everyone. Next time maybe I’ll take you somewhere nicer.” She nudged Leta with her elbow. “Somewhere fancy? Find you some nice classy people?”

“That’d be a dramatic change,” Leta snorted, taking a long swig of her drink.

Corra’s smile faded away. Though she was hesitant to bring it up, she couldn’t help but ask, “Have you talked to him since–you know?”

“No. Not at all. He’s sent me a few messages, but I don’t have anything left to say to him.”

Corra nodded in understanding. “You don’t owe him anything.”

“I gave him enough,” Leta agreed, rolling her eyes dryly to the side. After a moment, she went on, “He’s about to suffer withdrawal,” and flicked her eyes to the rim of her glass. “He’ll be seriously ill. Out of commission for a few weeks at least.”

“That asshole,” was Corra’s summation once Leta (with a little help from Cyrus) had managed to explain. Already half an hour had passed since the fight that had driven Leta to the Beacon, but she was still reeling. Her hands were shaking in her lap. The calming hum of the empty bridge had done nothing to soothe her, nor did the tea and whiskey Cyrus had made, nor Corra’s assurance that she had expelled Fiearius from the ship and set some of her best guys on the job to make sure he stayed that way. She still felt adrift in some vast ocean barely able to keep treading water.

Corra’s feelings were a little more concise.

“That fucking, lying asshole.” She paced the room in a fervor. “I shoulda shot him. I really shoulda.” She turned on Cyrus who was slumped in the pilot’s seat looking as exhausted as she felt. “Why didn’t you let me shoot him?”

Cyrus lifted his shoulders in a hopeless shrug. “‘Cause then he’d be a fucking, lying, bleeding asshole?”

Corra stopped pacing and crossed her arms over her chest. “The hell’s wrong with that?” she muttered under her breath.

“I don’t think I can talk to him,” said Leta, her voice hollow and empty. “Or see him. Or even look at him.”

“Then we’ll go,” Corra said at once, as though it were the most simple solution ever uttered. When Leta looked up at her in surprise, she went on, “We’ll just go. Cyrus and I will go back to the Dionysian, grab your things, bring them here and we’ll leave. Today. Right now.”

“You mean — “ Leta was almost afraid to say the words aloud. “Move to the Beacon?”

“Why not?” Corra’s eyes shone with eagerness. “You want to get away from Captain Shithead? We’ll take you away from him. He’s toxic. His problems, in their vast quantity, are contagious and you don’t need him. Just come with us. We have plenty of space. Good work coming in, so we can easily afford to feed one more. We don’t get injured that often so you might get bored, but the crew’s great, the facilities are great, I’m here.” She stalked over to Leta and picked up her hands. “Join the Beacon. You’ll be much happier here, I know it.”

Leta couldn’t speak. She felt an odd sensation in her chest — painful, but hopeful.

“I don’t know if that’s really–” Cyrus began, leaning forward in his chair but Leta cut him off.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she said at last, her voice gentle. Corra beamed. “I’d like that.”

Cyrus’ jaw dropped. “Wait, what?”

Corra, however, was ecstatic. She gripped Leta’s forearms and bounced on her toes and let out a squeal.

“You’re right,” said Leta quietly. “It’s time. I said I’d only leave the Dionysian when it was time. And — it’s time.”

“Yes, let’s go!” Corra agreed, releasing her and flitting across to the navigation console. “Where do you wanna go? A vineyard on Rossind? Shopping on Tarin? A casino in Genisi? Without Mr. Wanted-By-Everyone-Everywhere, we could even do a tropical getaway on Paraven?”

Leta smiled weakly. Corra’s glee was almost, but not quite, contagious. “Remember we always said we’d visit the hot springs just outside of Vena?”

“You got it!” Corra yelped. “We’ll go anywhere you want! By tonight you’ll be saying Fieari-who? I guarantee it.”

Cyrus finally got to his feet, looking dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious,” he said, staring between the two of them. “What, just–whisking away. Just like that. Isn’t that kind of unnecessary?”

“Unnecessary?” Corra repeated. “It’s completely necessary.”

Cyrus ignored her and looked desperately to Leta. “Look, I know you’re mad at him, but c’mon. You can’t just leave. I mean, what he did was shitty, but this, fleeing on the Beacon…isn’t this kind of ridiculous?”

Corra’s glare was sudden and intense. “Wait, please tell me you’re not defending him?”

“What? No! No, of course not,” Cyrus said hurriedly, “But you can’t just leave like this.”

“Cyrus,” Leta pressed softly. “I’m sorry. But I think it’s time. I’m no help to Fiearius — in any way — if he can’t even tell me about something like this. He needs a doctor he can talk to. And I’m not clearly that person anymore.”

“But what about the rest of us?” Cyrus despaired. “I know you just want to get away from Fiear and I respect that, but if you leave us here? I don’t know the first thing about withdrawals or getting people through them or anything! And what are we supposed to do in the meantime? We can’t afford to stay docked here much longer than a week. The Society’s still tailing us. We’re severely low on cash. And, incidentally, rations. And even if we figure all that out, there’s still the matter that my brother, hate him all you want, could die without medical care that I can’t give him. I’m not defending Fiearius, I’m asking for help.”

“Cyrus. Of course I don’t want Fiearius to suffer, but I can’t–”

But another voice interrupted her, warm and kind. “You’ll have help.”

It was Daelen in the doorway, his eyes kind and a little sad. When Corra cast him a look of concern, he held up his hand and went on, “Despite what we say captain, the Beacon doesn’t have a need for two physicians. Leta can take my place here and I’ll take hers on the Dionysian. And we’ll get through it.”

Cyrus couldn’t have looked more relieved. “Thank you,” he breathed, closing his eyes.

“So it’s settled then,” said Corra, clapping her hands together. “Daelen will go to the Dionysian, Leta will stay here, Fiearius will realize how big of an idiot he is — and we’ll all get through this.”

Privately, sincerely, Leta was not sure that they would. But she said nothing as everyone murmured agreement.

“I’ll go get your stuff together, alright?” said Cyrus quietly, catching Leta’s eye and giving her a look of encouragement. He squeezed her shoulder, and he and Daelen left the room, leaving heavy, confused silence in their wake.

Corra beamed at her, clearly excited.  “So. Ready to go then huh?” she said, but Leta was finding it difficult to speak. Her throat suddenly tightened.

“I don’t know if I am. But I don’t know how I could stay, either.”

“Leta, it’s alright to leave! Daelen’s a great doctor, you know that, I know that, everyone knows it. He’ll handle things on the Dionysian just fine. Don’t worry about it. Fiear’ll get through this like he gets through everything and come out the other side just as much a piece of space trash as he was when he went in.”

As much as Leta wanted to laugh at Corra’s words, to really agree with her, she couldn’t. She felt herself dissolving, and Corra reached out and took her shoulder.

“I really can’t believe Fiearius didn’t tell you,” she said quietly, which made Leta’s eyes swim with tears.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” she admitted, bringing her hands to her face.

“Look, I’m quite versed on how dumb it was, alright? Hindsight’s 20/20,” he said, fighting to keep himself from snapping. “And I wanted to tell you! I almost did, just–”

“Just what?”

“Just, I knew you’d react like this!” he finished with a yell that surprised them all.

He knew he’d said the wrong thing when Leta’s eyes flashed and then, abruptly, she turned around and stalked down the hallway.

“Where are you going?” he called, growling his frustration. He did not hesitate in following after her, his footsteps pounding down the hallway, but she didn’t look back. “I didn’t want to upset you! It was my problem to fix, not yours!”

“And are you fixing it? Are you?” She shot him an icy glare. “How well is that working out for you?”

“Well, it’s–” He stammered and then frowned. “Fine. It’s not. I couldn’t do it. I failed. Is that what you want to hear? I screwed up. But I’m fixing it now, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was a mistake, but I’m trying to make it right. Please believe me, I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

When she only scoffed in disbelief, he reached for her arm, but she yanked it away. Groaning, he stopped and barked, “Would you fucking stop and just talk to me?!”

When she stopped abruptly and regarded him closely in icy silence, he thought he might’ve won a piece of her back. At the very least, her expression was less hardened. Softer. Sadder. He could still fix this, he thought, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

But then she asked, “Who else knows?”

It was, quite possibly, one of the worst questions she could’ve asked. His heart sank.

“Dez knows, of course,” he said, his voice heavy. “And Daelen found out just a few days back. I talked to Cyrus about it ten minutes ago.” He took a deep breath. “And I told Finn.”

Leta blinked slowly. He knew she was experiencing another wave of shock. “You told Finn and not me,” she said at last, voice shaking. “You’ve been putting your trust in Dez, Daelen, Finn, and not me?”

“No, of course I trust you, you know that I do, but–” Fiearius shook his head. “There are some things I can’t trust you with.”

“Excuse me?” she flared. “What the hell does that mean?”

It meant he’d made a mistake. A big one. He knew he should have backpedaled. He should have apologized and made an excuse and pretend he hadn’t meant it. But as he stood there, watching her slip from his grasp with each passing second, he felt cornered and he started to feel not sorry but panicked and — worse — angry. So he did the opposite.

“You know what it means,” he snapped, throwing a hand in the air in frustration. “Because you’ve always been like this! I have to walk on fucking eggshells around you because gods forbid I do one thing that doesn’t fit into your perfect narrow vision of what’s ‘good’ and ‘right.’ Of course I can’t tell you some things.”

“Narrow vision of — wait, are you trying to argue that lying was the right thing to do?”

“No! No, not–That’s not what I’m talking about!”

“Then what are you talking about? How I don’t like it when you murder people for a quick credit? Or steal from innocent people? Or how I pushed you toward doing something good instead of selling guns to low-lifes?”

“See, this is exactly what I’m–Look, my number one priority is keeping my crew alive and my ship in the air and I have always done whatever it takes to make that happen. And then you show up with your moral high ground–”

“Moral high ground?! Are you–”

“–and I have to compromise everything just to make you happy. I used to think that being around you would make me a better person. The kind of person that you would approve of. But you know what I think now? It’s just made me better at pretending to be.”

“Apparently,” she breathed, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Certainly had me fooled for long enough.”

Fiearius almost laughed. Almost. “I was never good enough for you, was I? What was this? Just a ‘fuck you’ to your ex? To your father? Or was I a failed fixer-upper experiment? Why the fuck are you even with me?”

Leta fixed him with one long, hard glare, then turned away. When she started storming off, he could not say he was surprised.

“Shit,” he muttered as the full error of his actions became more clear. Foolish as it was, he started following after her again. Her feet pounded down the stairs, all the way through the cargo bay and down the ramp. For a moment he had no idea where she could be headed, but then he realized, she was headed toward safety: the Beacon.

“Leta!” he called, just as she stalked up the Beacon’s ramp. “Leta, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–Please, listen to me — ” he begged, but all she said was, her voice ice cold, “Leave me alone, Fiearius.”

Clenching his jaw, Fiearius paused only for a moment before starting after her. He did not make it far. Just when he headed toward a set of metal stairs, Corra cut in front of him, her hands on his hips.

“I think she said to leave her alone,” Corra snapped. Fiearius groaned. Just what he needed. A best friend intervention.

“Out of the way Corra,” he grumbled, attempting to edge around her, but suddenly he heard a familiar metallic clunk. A gun was staring him in the face, locked in Corra’s hand. Fiearius staggered a few steps back. “What’re you–”

“She said to leave her alone,” Corra growled again. “Maybe you should do that.”

Stunned, Fiearius looked from her face to the gun and back again. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Get off my ship,” she barked.

“Corra I–I just need to talk to her,” he tried to reason.

“Well clearly she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“You don’t even know what the hell is going on!”

“I don’t care. She said to go, you go. Seems pretty simple to me.” Corra tilted her head and lifted her brows, patiently waiting for him to move. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. This was stupid. He just needed to talk to her, he could fix this if Corra would just get out of his way.

But she didn’t seem likely to. “Get. Off. Of my ship, Fiearius,” Corra snapped, speaking slowly like he was a child. “Just turn right around and go.” When he didn’t budge, she rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me shoot you again, Fiear, you know I will.”

Getting shot hardly seemed like the largest of his worries right now. “I’m not leaving,” he informed her.

Corra sighed. “Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.” She cocked her gun and pointed it at his shoulder. “Where do you want it? I’m thinkin’ arm area so you can still walk out of here, but it’s up to you.”

“Don’t.”

The voice came from behind them. It was Cyrus, marching up the Beacon’s ramp. He was coming to Fiearius’ aid, but he could not have looked less pleased about it. “Please don’t, he’s already fucked up enough as it is without a bullet in him,” he muttered, refusing to even glance at his brother.

Corra cast Cyrus a wary look. “Do I need to kick you out too or…?”

“Nope, as usual, I am an innocent bystander in my brother’s mess,” Cyrus answered. “Where did she go?”

Corra nodded her head in the direction Leta had fled and Cyrus headed off again. For the first time, Fiearius felt a small glimmer of hope. “Talk some sense into her, Cy,” he called after him, pleading in his voice. “Please.”

But Cyrus did not look back as he disappeared down the hallway.

– – – – – –

Across from him, Daelen simply watched, patient as ever. For a long moment, as Fiearius tore through the infirmary, back and forth, back and forth, he said nothing. He just watched. It was only when Fiearius finally stopped, dead center, feeling his foundation starting to crumble, that Daelen spoke.

“Captain,” he began slowly. “I know that this is a frightening prospect. I understand. But I need you to understand what’s going to happen if you can’t sever your dependency on this drug.” Daelen took a deep breath. “It’s primarily affecting your liver, kidneys and nervous system. If your liver starts to fail, you’ll become jaundiced, weak, you could become disoriented or slip into a coma. If it fails, you will die. If your kidneys fail. You will die. But most concerning of all, what you were taking has started to affect your nerve endings. If this continues, you could lose feeling to your extremities, become paralyzed, epileptic or even lose mental stability.”

Fiearius could do nothing but stare back at him, entirely speechless.

“Now I get your hesitation, I do. But captain, this drug will be your end. It may not be immediate, it may not even be for a decade, but if you keep taking it, it will kill you. And it will not be pretty. It will not be painless. And it will not be dignified.” He approached Fiearius and lifted his brows at him. “I can’t force you to do anything. But I know what I would choose.”

He didn’t make it sound like much of a choice. Fiearius was still stunned to silence when Daelen put a tablet in his hand. “Here are your test results and a basic treatment summary for typical withdrawal symptoms. Look through it. Research it on your own. Make your decision. If you do choose to go through with the detox, and I hope you do, I suggest you come clean about it now.” He grasped Fiearius’ shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. “She deserves to know.”

– – – –

It was odd to be on this side of an examination, Leta thought, swinging her legs back and forth on the bench as Daelen finished tending to her. He pressed a stethoscope against her back, the buds tucked into his ears as he listened to her breathing. Satisfied, he stepped back and slid the device to rest around his neck.

“Well whatever happened to you while you were unconscious, it doesn’t seem too invasive,” he said, peeling the latex gloves from his hands. “Besides the puncture wound on your neck, I see no other signs of contact. Do you feel any unusual pressure or pain anywhere?”

“No, nothing. I’m even sleeping well again,” she said, thinking briefly of the previous night she’d spend with Fiearius at the hotel. After a moment, she muttered, “So they really gave me the ARC treatment, didn’t they?” though she was quite sure she knew of the answer.

“Signs point to yes. There’s definitely traces of something in your blood and it’s not something I recognize.” He crossed the white tile floor to examine his console screen. “I’ll have to do some research before I can confirm the compound matches what’s been identified as ARC, but as of now?” He glanced back at her. “I’d say it’s a safe bet.”

“Do you think it’ll have any long-term effects?”

“It could,” Daelen admitted. “The dosage you were given was clearly quite small given how little is left and I predict it will physically be out of your system in no more than a few days, but as far as lingering mental effects?” He shrugged. “It’s hard to say.”

Leta heaved a sigh, but forced any dark thoughts from her mind. She’d made it back from Vescent relatively unscathed — really, what more could she ask for?

In a tone that was more cheerful than she felt, she pushed down from the bench and said, “Don’t suppose you usually get patients this interesting everyday, do you, doctor?” She smiled. “How are things going on the Beacon, anyway?”

“Oh, quite well.” He turned away from the console. “The crew likes to keep me busy. Captain Corra in particular has a tendency to demand infirmary care for such little things as minor bruises. Though I’m beginning to suspect she’s more interested in the conversation than the bandages.”

“She tried to get me to take that position,” Leta remembered. “And move over here with her.”

“You’re welcome to take the offer, there’s certainly plenty of space for the two of us,” he mused, gesturing at the massive infirmary around them. “Though the Dionysian might fare better with you rather than without.”

“I always said I’d leave the Dionysian only when I was really ready.”

“So not yet then,” Daelen prompted, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Well … if and when you ever are, I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say we’d be happy to have you. Now, just give me a minute to clean up a little and then we’ll go over the test results together.”

He stepped towards the counter to clear away the medical supplies, but Leta rolled her eyes. “Please, I can read a test chart,” she said, crossing toward the console screen herself.

“Shall I remind you how big of a breach of confidentiality that is?” he called back to her as he washed his hands, but he made no motion to stop her as Leta touched her fingers to the screen. “I guess you are going to take that ‘doctors are the worst patients’ cliche to heart.”

“Ha, ha,” said Leta dryly, before focusing her attention on scrolling her medical chart. What she found made her stomach knot in unpleasant surprise. According to the screen, her blood pressure was dangerously low (and then dangerously high); her temperature was feverish; she was having difficulty breathing and was at a near-constant risk for seizures.

“Wait…this is — this doesn’t make sense.”

“Hm?” said Daelen, wiping his hands on a towel.

“These levels are–this can’t be right. I thought you said I only got a small dosage.”

“You did,” he said, frowning.

He walked over and joined her at the screen as Leta went on, “Then how are my levels so dramatically off? ARC shouldn’t be able to do this. Especially a small dose. Why is it like this?”

And then just as Daelen arrived at her shoulder and went very still, Leta noticed the name emblazened at the top of the screen: it wasn’t hers.

“Leta…” said Daelen quietly, warning in his voice.

“This … this is Fiearius’ chart.” Leta rounded on Daelen at once. “What’s going on here? What’s the matter with him?””

Daelen drew his eyebrows together, clearly troubled. “You know I can’t discuss my other patients with you.”

“Daelen, we’re not in the clinic anymore,” said Leta sharply. She could feel her heart beating fast. “Tell me what’s going on with Fiearius.”

“Leta,” said Daelen, throwing an uneasy glance at the screen, “you shouldn’t even be looking at — “

“Fine,” Leta snapped. “I’ll talk to him myself.”

Without a backwards glance, she stalked from the room to find Fiearius.

An hour earlier, Fiearius had been in the Beacon’s infirmary, leaning against the counter and nervously tapping his fingers against its surface. Despite Daelen’s instructions, he refused to go anywhere near the infirmary beds. He’d lived in one for nearly a month and he had no desire to repeat that, even if that meant irritating the good doctor.

After they’d returned from their stay at the hotel, he’d dropped Leta off at breakfast with Corra. Corra had been more than happy to take her off his hands and Leta, in much better spirits today, seemed glad to be in the company of her friend as Fiearius attended to an important meeting he couldn’t get out of. He’d failed to mention who the meeting was with and where.

But that didn’t make him less nervous about being caught. “Can we hurry this up by any chance?” he muttered as Daelen stood at the console, tapping away like nothing was wrong, the bastard.

“Afraid not,” said Daelen simply. “It takes what it takes.”

Fiearius groaned and pushed himself from the counter, taking to pacing around the room. “I thought you already did the blood test thing. Why do you have to do it again anyway?”

“I need to monitor any changes.” He glanced back at him. “You haven’t been using, correct?”

“No of course not,” Fiearius growled, rolling his eyes. “Not since you gave me those meds.”

“So you think they’re working then?”

Fiearius hesitated. Sure, they’d worked for three days. But he could do three days on his own, that part was easy. Even with the meds, would he still be alright when the fever started? Or the vomiting? Somehow he doubted it, but nonetheless he muttered a flippant, “Yeah, probably.”

“That’s great,” Daelen said cheerfully, but with a certain tone that made Fiearius think he knew he was lying. “Though it will still be a lot easier if you can tell me exactly what you were taking.”

It was probably the tenth time he’d asked and yet still Fiearius couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Something about saying the word out loud, about telling this doctor, made it seem so…final. It felt like leaping off the edge of a cliff. So yet again, he deflected. “Can’t you just figure it out? With science or whatever?”

“I have theories,” Daelen replied, undeterred as ever, even as he cast Fiearius a pointed sideways glance. “But facts are a lot more useful.” Fiearius met his stare head on before scoffing indignantly and needing to look away.

Just then, the console Daelen was working on made a ding. “Ah, there we go,” he chimed as Fiearius slowly drifted towards him to hover behind his shoulder. On the screen was a chart, but it meant very little to him. Numbers and letters he didn’t recognize, an array of illegible information. Daelen easily scrolled through it, making a few thoughtful ‘hm’s’ as he went along.

Finally, Fiearius couldn’t take it anymore. “Well?” he demanded.

“Well.” Daelen turned to face him. “I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news. Which would you like first?”

It was a question Fiearius never found comforting. “Bad, I guess.”

Daelen began to pace a slow circle around him. “The bad news is that your blood levels haven’t changed as much as I was hoping they would and your vitals are starting to weaken. You’re in the beginning stages of withdrawal and the medication you’ve been taking seems to be having no effect.”

Fiearius stared at him, feeling suddenly numb. “No effect? At all?”

“I’m afraid not. Whatever dependency you’ve developed, it’s stronger than the medication to battle it. We could keep trying it, but I doubt it’ll be effective.”

“So…what does that mean?”

“Well that’s the good news,” Daelen went on. “You’re not my first addiction patient and you definitely won’t be the first that I’ve helped through withdrawals. The Beacon is well-stocked with painkillers and fever reducers and I’ve picked up a few tricks along the way to make the detox process as painless as possible.” He smiled what he must have thought was an encouraging smile and laid his hand on Fiearius’ shoulder. “We can get through this.”

This. Get through Flush withdrawals. The thought made a shiver run down Fiearius’ spine. He couldn’t remember the brunt of them from the first time around — he’d been completely delirious. For a week. But he could remember the time going in and coming out of that week and he would take getting beaten, shot, electrocuted and partially set on fire over going through that again. And here was Daelen telling him he could ‘get through this’.

Of course, this had always been the plan, hadn’t it? He had been trying to get off this shit for a while now, of course, he’d known, eventually it would come to this. But up until now, it had never felt very real before. He’d never made it past the first few days before he’d given up. The horror of it had stayed safely at a distance. But now he could feel it staring him right in the face and he was unable to look away.

Daelen, however, had already moved on. “Now, by my estimates based on these readings, we have a couple of days before your symptoms amplify. In that time, we’ll work together to map out a plan. You’re likely going to be bedridden for some time and it’s essential that I’m with you through the process so we’ll have to discuss ship arrangements of course.”

Ship arrangements? Gods, what the hell was he getting into? Thoughtlessly, he took a few steps back and sank onto the edge of the infirmary bed. Suddenly, recovery seemed huge and overwhelming, like he stood at the base of a mountain.

He couldn’t do this. What was Daelen talking about? He couldn’t do this, but Daelen just kept going on.

“–and I’ll also need to know in advance any allergies you might have. If you’ve taken anything else recently? If you can give me a sample of the drug, I should be able to create a more comprehensive treatment. We should also discuss with Leta if she’d be willing to–”

That was where Fiearius tuned out. Leta. He could already imagine her face, horrified, when she found out. And she would find out. She would see. She would know.

“I can’t,” he said suddenly, standing up and shaking his head. Daelen stopped mid-sentence and stared. “I can’t do this. I can’t go through the withdrawals. Everyone will know.”

Daelen regarded him with calm, polite interest. “Yes,” he confirmed. “Yes, I’m afraid there’s little chance this can be conducted in secrecy.”

Fiearius just continued to shake his head, pacing the room furiously. “I can’t do it. I won’t do it. She can’t find out.”