Hours later, long after they’d checked into their hotel room and gone to sleep, Fiearius cracked open his eyes and half-scowled in confusion. The room was shadowy and dim, but he felt immediately that the space beside him in bed was empty. In fact, he realized as he scanned the room, the whole room was empty. Leta was missing.

With a jolt of panic, Fiearius sat up. In one motion, he threw his hand to the bedside table, grabbed his pistol, and launched to his feet. She was gone. How was it possible? How had he lost her again?

He’d stalked halfway to the door when he heard movement from the bathroom. Heart hammering, he pivoted to the door and pushed it open. The scene that met his eyes made him halt in place and exhale in relief.

Leta blinked at him curiously from where she was comfortably sunk into a steaming hot bath. Murky soapy water went up her collarbone, and she was leaning back against the porcelain, her long legs angled over the lip of the tub.

“Are you alright?” she asked blankly, sitting up and making the water splash around her. “Fiear, why do you have — ?” She flashed a look at the gun in his hand.

“No reason,” Fiearius grunted, feeling stupid as he quickly placed the pistol to the side on the bathroom counter. He had no intention of telling Leta about his moment of panic, especially when she was perfectly fine and looking more like herself than she had in hours with her cheeks flushed a healthy pink from the steam, her long damp hair loosening from its messy bun. For a moment, he just stood there in the doorway, admiring the beautiful woman bathing in the ridiculously large bathtub. Fiearius wasn’t exactly a fan of baths, but…

“That looks nice,” he remarked thoughtfully. “Mind if I join you?” Without waiting for an answer, he crossed over the floor and started peeling off his clothes.

“No, don’t, you’ll turn the water brown,” Leta protested playfully, but when he lowered himself into the warm water and joined her on the submerged bench, she immediately moved to sit between his legs and sat back against his chest, heaving a long, relaxed sigh. It was the first time she seemed to truly relax since she’d returned from Vescent, Fiearius realized, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“This is better,” she said softly, closing her eyes for a moment as she sank further against him. “Gods, when I was stuck on Vescent, this is all I could think about. Being with you again. And how I thought I might not be able to.”

“But here we are,” said Fiearius. He leaned his mouth against the nape of her neck.

“Here we are,” Leta agreed, and took a deep breath. “Tell me something good, please.”

“Good? Right, okay. Well. Nobody you know has died recently,” he said, and Leta snorted a laugh. “That’s good. From what I hear, the better candidate won the election for Governor in Tarin Proper. I reached level eighty in Spaceship Wars. There’s a meteor shower on Paraven this week, supposedly very rare, once in a century kind of thing. Oh and my brother got a girl to like him, also very rare, once in a century kind of thing.”

Leta’s ringing laugh echoed around the bathroom. “That’s not nice of you.”

“Hey, I have actively encouraged the little bastard to get himself a girlfriend for the past four years.”

“That ‘little bastard’ is your flesh and blood, you know,” Leta said composedly, elbowing him in the ribcage. “And you don’t exactly give him a lot of time and space to take women out whenever he wants … Which isn’t fair,” she added, throwing him a good-naturedly stern look. “You find the time for it.”

“Cyrus has plenty of time to take out women,” Fiearius scoffed. “You think I make him stay down in that engine room all the time? He does that to himself. He prefers doing that. I ask him to come out and experience the real world with me and he says no. Which is why I’ve got good feelings about this cute engineer girl. She lets him stay in his comfort zone and interact with women. It’s perfect.”

“Well it’s not exactly easy to meet people when you’re traveling in the middle of nowhere space.”

“Right. Which is why I prefer to kidnap my prospective lovers.”

Leta laughed. “You had no idea that you and I would end up together.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked with a teasing grin. “You were into me from the first day we met. Don’t bother denying it, there were so many clues. The yelling, the angry glares, that time you said you’d rather shoot yourself then sleep with me? We were inevitable.”

“Inevitable? Fiear, I was engaged. To be married.”

“Eh.” Fiearius shrugged a shoulder, then dropped it back into the water with a splash. “I knew it’d work out somehow.”

“And while we’re on the subject,” said Leta, a playful lilt in her voice, “it was you who was into me, not vice versa.”

Fiearius grinned. “Well can you blame me?” He leaned over to kiss her neck. “It’s not everyday someone who both pisses me off and fires me up ends up on my ship.”

“You know, I don’t know why you let me aboard at all.” Her voice grew distant with the memory — the vivid memory Fiearius shared. They first met with Fiearius atop the ramp, his arm infected, in the middle of a yelling match with his brother. He’d spared her the shortest glance before muttering fine, she could come.

“No idea,” said Leta. “I still wonder sometimes.”

Fiearius barked a laugh, but then he found himself knitting his brow with thought. He wasn’t actually sure he knew what the real answer was. He’d never liked doctors. He never wanted someone else from a Society planet on his ship. He was wary of strangers. And Leta had been all three when he let her come aboard that fateful night.

“Fever-induced madness?” he offered, but he knew that wasn’t quite it. “But — who cares, yeah? As long as you’re here now, I don’t regret a thing,” he said, leaning in to kiss the spot where her shoulder met her neck.

“Funny, isn’t it,” said Leta softly, “how the Dionysian of all places in the Span turned out to be the place I feel most at home.”

“Well she’s happy to have ya,” Fiearius assured her. “For as long as you need.”

“It had to be me, Cy. No one else could’ve made it to Vescent undetected.” Addy hesistated. Then she said, “And besides, all of you are so brave. Leta and Fiearius, standing up for what they believe in. Corra, running her own ship. Seeing them …” A smile wavered past her face. “I guess I wanted to be brave, too. Sometimes it feels like — like I’ve always taken the safe route.”

“Safe route?” Cyrus repeated. “Addy, you fled Satieri, that’s hardly a safe route.”

“I didn’t have a choice in that. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay on Satieri and go to school and work on ships. When my dad told me I had to go, I screamed at him, Cy because it wasn’t what I wanted. I was horribly selfish. I still am.”

“Well, yeah,” Cyrus muttered, unsure. “But still–”

“And maybe you are too,” Addy went on, ignoring him. “Maybe you’ve done some selfish things, we all have. What happened on Vescent, that was bad, but you didn’t just do it for you, you did it for us. For me and for Leta. And you want to talk about selfless acts? Didn’t you go to Satieri to save your brother when he was captured? How is that any different?”

“It’s totally different,” he argued. “I wasn’t alone, for starters. And I–I was afraid of what would happen to me without him.”

Addy scoffed. “That’s not true. I know that’s not true.” She cupped his cheeks in her hands. “Cyrus, you are brave and courageous and caring and I’ve seen firsthand what you’ll do for those you love. You’ve made some hard choices, we all have. But you are not selfish. And you are not rude. And that Delia woman can shove it.”

Cyrus could do nothing but stare at her in wonder and disbelief. No one had ever told him anything quite like that before. But as passionate and convicted as she sounded, the first thing he was able to utter was, “Okay, but–”

Addy groaned, dropping her hands from his face and slumping her head in defeat.

“No, listen, it’s not that,” Cyrus tried to argue, but she no longer seemed to be listening.

Instead, she was getting out of bed. He sat up too, watching as Addy moved her feet to the floor and stood up, planting her hands on her hips, as he went on, “Addy, look. Those things I did, the good things, they were just–”

Cyrus blinked as Addy abruptly grabbed the bottom hem of her tank top and started to lift it over her head, revealing the bare skin of her stomach and chest. “–well they were–” And then, she tossed the piece of clothing aside. “– they were — “

Cyrus forgot his words entirely as his mouth dropped open. He sat on the edge of her bed, drinking in the sight of her fair naked skin as he choked, “What are you–?”

“Oh, now I have your attention,” she said, smirking with the corner of her mouth. “Cyrus. Listen to me. You are a good person. A kind person. A brave person. Okay?”

Cyrus’ eyes flicked up to her face, with some difficulty. “But–”

“Okay?” she stressed again, and this time he mustered a small, weak nod.

“Good.” Addy grinned. Then she leaned down, placed her palms on his shoulders and kissed him so heatedly that Cyrus forgot that he’d been upset at all. Or that being upset was ever a possibility. What could he ever be upset about, really, when Addy was here, nearly naked, kissing him and now lowering to sit on his lap?

“Wait,” he muttered, but without much conviction. “I thought we were taking it slow?”

“We were,” Addy said softly, hooking her fingers around the collar of his shirt. “But then you nearly got yourself killed. And now I want to take it a little faster.”

Cyrus couldn’t agree more. He didn’t argue. Instead, he pressed his lips to hers, put his hands on her hips and drew her gently to his lap.

————–

In the darkness of Fiearius’ bedroom, Leta stared at the ceiling, wide-awake and alert as if it were the middle of the day. She felt like crawling the walls, but she took to staring at them instead, as Fiearius slept with his arm thrown over her hip. She could feel the slow inhale and exhale of his breath as she twisted her legs around the sheets. She turned to her side, then to her other side, then to her back …

But sleep would not claim her. She couldn’t even keep her eyes closed. Just when she was considering getting up entirely, Fiearius spoke against her neck.

“You alright?” he muttered. His voice was muffled, but he sounded awake. He’d woken her up like this a thousand times before (usually for one reason in particular … )  but this time, he seemed to understand. “Can’t sleep?”

“I don’t know why,” she admitted, pinching the bridge of her nose with two fingers. “I should be exhausted.”

But she could not stop her mind from reeling. Images of Vescent kept flashing past her eyes. Fiearius must have sensed her unease, because he sat up on his elbows.

“Well,” he sighed, “we could go for a walk if you’d like? Always helps me. Fresh air does a person good. Or I can make you something to eat? How about a mind-numbing game? Alternatively,” he grinned in the darkness, “plenty of physical activity we could do right here.” He patted the bed with his hand. “Take your pick.”

Leta rolled onto her back and pulled the corners of her lips into a faint, agreeable smirk. The truth was — and she had no desire to share this with Fiearius — that she was a little weary of what would happen if they became intimate already. After what had happened on the dock of the Dionysian when they’d been reunited (she’d actually physically pushed him away, how was that possible?), she was worried being too close would trigger — well, whatever that incident had been. She truly had no idea. And it was only part of the reason why she could not find sleep.

Her smirk thinned from her face, but not out of any sort of displeasure. “Actually – a walk would be nice,” she answered, hoping those words were true, as she sat up and slid her legs toward the edge of the bed. Maybe it would help stem some of her roiling energy. Maybe it would quiet her mind.

She hoped so, at least, as they descended the Dionysian’s open ramp together ten minutes later. Outside, the evening air was pleasantly chilly, and the city lay in silence at this hour of the night.

They began to half-walk, half-wander through the empty cobblestone streets and admire the tall darkened buildings, hand-in-hand. Comfortable silence hung between them, until Leta said, “Maybe — I’m just not used to being back on the Dionysian yet.” It was the first words either of them had spoken in several minutes. “Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep. I mean, I was sharing a bed with your brother before, after all.”

“Don’t remind me,” Fiearius snorted.

Leta gave his hand a small, playful swing, trying to brighten her own spirits. “So, are you going to tell me everything I missed while I was gone on my vacation?”

“Vacation?” Fiearius repeated. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“I’m trying to keep things light.”

He shrugged his acceptance. “Not sure I really want to say what you missed. Hardly my proudest moments…Though I will tell you that you missed out on Corra nearly shooting me in the head when she found out Addy was gone.”

“Corra — she — what?” Leta sputtered. “Was she trying to miss?”

“That, or her accuracy’s going bad.” He grimaced. “Hoping it’s the former…” A concerned frown came over him, but he shrugged it off and squeezed her hand tighter. “Anyway, I’m just glad you’re back. Both of you. All three of you.”

They slowed to a stop, pausing on the edge of a dock that overlooked water. The wind picked up, tossing Leta’s hair over her face as she stared at the lapping waves.

“It doesn’t — really feel like I’m back,” she said at last. “It feels like when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll still be trapped in Delia’s apartment.”

She could feel him watching her.

“Vescent is nothing like it was, Fiear,” she went on, turning towards him. “It didn’t feel like home at all. And I saw them execute someone in the street.”

She spoke rather plainly — after all, this was Fiearius, who had seen his fair share of horror and bloodshed. If anyone could handle this mental image, it was him. It was part of why she felt so comfortable with him in the past few hours. That familiar magnetic draw pulled her in, and when he wasn’t at her side, she found herself missing his company, seeking him out.

She could not say the same for the rest of the crew. Amora, Rhys, Finn, even Corra — Leta found every single person to be jarring, noisy.  She felt too jumpy and unnerved to spend more than five minutes with anyone but Fiearius, who seemed to understand that she had been favoring the quiet.

“You’ll feel back to normal soon enough,” he answered easily. “Give it time. The dust will settle.”

Leta rubbed her palms together, a gesture of nerves. Her eyes grew distant as she added, “I don’t know what they did to me, Fiear, but it’s making me feel crazy. Like what I did when I saw you the first time — ” She flashed him a look of apology. “Gods, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, s’okay,” he said at once, taking her hands in his and pulling her closer. “It’s just a reaction, I know that. It’s just hard to tell reality from fiction with that shit…I get it. Trust me, I get it…”

Abruptly, the line of Fiearius’ sight shifted; he was staring at something over her head.

“You know what might help you?” he asked suddenly. “A change of scenery. No cramped ship hallways, no cluttered quarters, someplace actually clean. Something entirely different than what you’re used to. Y’think?”

Leta followed his line of vision and realized he was looking at a tall illuminated building, glowing invitingly. The sign boasted it as a beachfront resort.

“Wait — really? You’re saying we should get a hotel room?” said Leta wondrously. She was certain no one on the Dionysian stayed in hotels. Or even motels. The crew was more likely to pass out on the street curb.

“And how, exactly, do you expect to pay for it?” she demanded. “Or did you pick up an extra job while I was on that vacation?”

“I have my ways. How about it?”

She had to admit there was something terribly tempting about the idea. In a clean hotel room, Vescent wouldn’t exist. There’d be no reminders of the Society.

And so, after stalling on the street for a moment, Leta shrugged one shoulder and turned for the building.

“If this is just an act to seduce me … ” she trailed off warningly.

“Me? Try to seduce you? What in the span are you on about?” He slipped his arm around her waist. “Unless you’d like me to, in which case, yes.”

In the lobby of the hotel, Leta could not contain her amazement as she watched Fiearius speak with the clerk behind the desk. Fiearius scanned a CID, the man handed him a set of keys, and suddenly Leta found herself walking with him down a long, lushly carpeted hallway.

She could not imagine how Fiearius was paying to stay even one night in a place so elegant. But then, when they reached the elevator, the clerk called out, “Have a good night, Mr. Riley,” to which Leta blinked.

“What did he just say?” she hissed as the elevator doors dinged open. “Did he just call you Riley? As in Finnegan Riley? Did you — did you steal Finn’s bank account?”

Fiearius’ grin was wider than the Dionysian.  “You must be hearing things, I’ve no idea what you mean.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“Well when’s that gonna be?!” someone beside Leta yelled back. “Where are they?!”

Ducking away quickly, Leta looked to Cyrus and Addy.

“How’re we going to get through the blockade?” Addy whispered.

“We can just make a run for it?” Cyrus suggested, but Leta shook her head.

“They’ll grab us. There are too many of them.”

Cyrus glanced back at them, his face wrought with indecision as he pushed the glasses up his nose. Finally, that familiar look of epiphany started to light his eyes, a look that reminded Leta of Fiearius, as he said, “There’s a lot of us too.”

“What?” Addy whispered, but Leta thought she understood: there were not many Society commanding officers. Ten, fifteen, at best. But there was a whole crowd of angry people …

Suddenly, in a powerful voice Leta would not have expected from him, Cyrus stood back and bellowed, “We won’t stand for this!”

A few people looked towards where he was crammed into the crowd and he hastily ducked a few inches to avoid their gaze. But there was already a general murmur of agreement. “We won’t be treated like this!” he went on, altering his voice a little. Someone on the other side of the alley confirmed, “We won’t!”

Another woman up front cried, “We’ve had it with you lot! Had it!”

The commanding officer’s face darkened. “Calm down. We’ll let you through as soon as–”

“Not soon enough!” shouted Cyrus, and this time a chorus of cheers followed him. Leta watched him, half-horrified, half-amazed.

“You can’t keep us here!” cried another voice, followed by, “We’re getting through and we’re getting on those ships, no matter what!”

The crowd was rippling with movement and noise, and then Leta felt a surge of pressure on her back; people were pushing forward.

“I think it’s working!” Addy whispered, both terrified and hopeful, as she grabbed ahold of Leta’s arm and Cyrus’ shoulder. People were moving from all directions now, and yells filled the area, a din of anger.

“Settle down!” roared the commander up front as his wall of agents started to get pushed back themselves. “Settle down or we’ll be forced to take action!”

“You can’t control us!” roared one man, raising his fist in the air. And then it happened.

The first gunshot seemed to shock every person in the crowd. The crowd screamed, then ducked to the ground. The second gunshot that cracked in the air made yells of anger erupt as suddenly the sea of people launched forward.

In the chaos, Leta quickly seized Addy’s hand as people began to fight their way forward. Cyrus led the way, gritting his teeth as he shoved people sideways.

“Get to the shuttle on the left, hurry!” he shouted over his shoulder.

Bodies shoved into one another. In the disorder, Leta fleetingly lost sight of Cyrus and Addy, and she spun around.

What she found made a yell of alarm erupt in her throat. Addy, struggling against a commander’s arms, fighting for freedom. Horrified, Leta immediately shoved forward to help her but before she could, Cyrus’ voice rang out over the crowd.

“Let her go!” he growled, and cracked his knuckles across the man’s face. In nearly the same motion, he seized Addy’s wrist, reached out to grab Leta’s and darted onward towards a ship Leta didn’t recognize.

Short of breath, panicking, the three of them clambered up the ramp into the small fighter ship. Cyrus lunged forward to hit the control pad, closing the heavy door behind them, sealing them inside the ship.

“Are you okay?” he breathed, turning to Addy in particular, who was massaging her neck where the man had grabbed her.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” said Addy, quickly turning toward the front of the ship. “We need to get in the air.”

Cyrus nodded in agreement, but he didn’t yet move. Even with the door closed, the din of the outside was still audible. Bursts of gunfire, screaming. Cyrus stood there, totally quiet, as though listening to it. His eyes were on the ground and his breath seemed caught in his chest. He must have felt Leta watching him, because he finally looked up, locked eyes with her, frowned resolutely and had to turn away.

She saw guilt in his face, and she knew why: he’d caused this chaos.  Leta could think of nothing to say, but she squeezed his shoulder.

“You can fly this thing?” Cyrus asked as he joined Addy at the control panels.

“Well enough,” was Addy’s response as she busied herself at the console. “I just need to override the docking security…”

Cyrus nodded again and looked back at Leta, seemingly about to say something, when suddenly there was a loud banging to her left. She jumped backwards, ramming into the opposite wall.

“Open up!” came the muffled voice from the outside. “We know you’re in there! Open up, surrender and we may show mercy!”

Leta met Cyrus’ stare, wide-eyed. “Can you override it faster?” Cyrus breathed.

“Fast as I can,” Addy insisted, her fingers tapping away furiously.

The banging got louder. “Open this door!” shouted the voice again. The noise was filling the whole cabin. Leta could see the whole door mechanism shuddering at the impact.

“Addy…” Cyrus warned again, but Addy just shouted, “A few more seconds!”

“This is your last chance to open this door before I fucking blow it off!” shouted the voice.

Leta and Cyrus shared a look of alarm, but finally, Addy shouted, “Got it!” and the floor of the ship roared to life.

“Get us out of here!” Cyrus yelped. As the ship lifted from the docks, Cyrus and Addy began cheering: they were truly leaving Vescent.

In silence, Leta watched wisps of cloud dart past the window, and she sank against the wall in exhaustion.

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

Hours or seconds later (really — it could have been days), Leta forced open her heavy eyes. Her vision was blurring, but then Cyrus’ face slowly swam into view. He was leaning over her as she slept in a chair, gently shaking her awake.

“You alright?” he asked, and there was a certain joy in his voice she could not understand. Then he said, smiling, “Leta, we made it. We just landed. The Dionysian and the Beacon are outside.”

Leta pinched the bridge of her nose and sat up. She knew she was supposed to leap to her feet, she was supposed to run down the open ramp in excitement. But as she sat up, she felt only shaky, feverish, as if she were getting over a bout of the flu.

“I’ll be right th — ” she muttered, but Cyrus and Addy were hurrying down the ramp. A chorus of happy yells told Leta that the Dionysian crew was waiting outside.

Cautiously, slowly, Leta ventured down the ramp. Standing in the broad shadow of the Beacon, she saw Amora, weeping in happiness and calling her name over and over; Corra, hugging Cyrus and Addy at the same time and jumping up and down; Finn, beaming at her and looking a little faint with relief. Her eyes scanned over their faces, and she was about to open her mouth when she felt a figure — a tall figure — advancing toward her.

She heard Fiearius’ voice saying her name, and she glimpsed messy auburn hair, the utter relief filling his eyes, his arms open to pull her into his chest. But then — her vision went white.

Blinding light filled her eyes. Something — something angry, something feral and scared — roared to life inside of her.

As Fiearius’ hands went to her forearms to pull her into an embrace, she yanked herself away and the words jumped out of her throat before she could stop them. “Get off — no! NO!” she screamed, and she felt everyone spin around, astonished, as Leta fought off her assailant. Her screams pierced the air, choking with sobs. “Don’t — you can’t —  DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Fiearius stepped backwards and put up his palms in surrender, stricken with confusion and horror.

“Leta, it’s me,” he said, his voice calm. “It’s just me. What’s wrong?” He turned to Cyrus, his face darkened. “What happened to her?”

“I–I don’t know,” Cyrus admitted. “She was fine. I mean, the Society had her for a little bit. Twenty, thirty minutes, but, she’s been fine, I don’t know what–”

“Get back!”  Leta felt herself scream, digging her hands into her hair. “Stay away from him, Cyrus!’

Fiearius took in a deep breath and ventured a careful step towards her. She instinctually staggered backwards. “Leta,” he said, his voice even. “Calm down. It’s me. Fiearius. It’s okay.”

“I — but you betrayed — ”

Her voice shook with doubt. Tears swam in her eyes and she slowly lowered her hands from her hair, regarding Fiearius closely, taking in all the parts of him she had long since memorized: the scar jutting through his brow, his tightened jawline, the concern blazing in his eyes. She knew that face. It all came flooding back to her: the jobs on the Dionysian, the days they’d spent joking and teasing each other, that particular barking way he laughed, his stupid nicknames, his smile, his cooking, his hands as they ran down her back.

Her lungs tightened, then she exhaled. “Fiear?” she said quietly, and he nodded at her, as if confirming that yes, it was really him, and yes, she really was home.

Finally, exhaling shakily, she pressed forward and threw her arms around his neck, collapsing into his embrace.

What the hell had they done to her?

Gingerly, she pushed herself to her feet.

Just then, the door banged open, flooding the room with fluorescent light. Leta’s hand flew up to shield her eyes and she felt startled of what could possibly happen next —

But the guard in the doorway looked nothing but friendly.

“Hey, y’alright?” he said, holding open the door. He was a young man, around her age, dressed in dark-colored Society clothing. “Ready to leave? Feeling a little drowsy? I felt like crap after, too, but you get used to it.”

“After what?”

The man continued to smile, but he squinted at her. “You really are drowsy, eh? Come on, time to go. What did you say your name was?”

Leta’s throat was dry.  Her mother’s name — her own middle name — jumped into her mind. “Ella,” she said after a moment.

They stepped into the hallway. Leta looked around quickly, though there were no helpful hints as to where they were: the hallway was empty, white and sterile.

“Now that is a pretty name,” the guard was saying, still grinning. “Nice to meet you, Ella. Surprised I don’t recognize you. You know, I usually — “

“Enough flirting, Rogerson,” came a crisp voice. Footsteps pounded down the tiled floor and an older woman appeared, also in Society clothing, holding a clipboard against her chest. She glanced at the man — Rogerson — with disgust. “Hope he wasn’t bothering you. Are you ready to proceed?” She looked down at her clipboard, and then she held out a handheld scanner.  “You’ll need to get into your uniform. For now we’ll just need to scan your CID.”

Leta opened her mouth, then closed it again, her mind racing. Her identification, they needed her identification. She tried to summon her wits, but her brain felt soggy, like she was moving underwater. The only lie she could summon was, “I forgot it.”

The woman’s eyes shot up.  “You what?”

“I’m afraid that I forgot it.”

“Forgot it?” the woman scoffed.

“She’s a little drowsy,” said Rogerson. “Not thinking straight just yet.”

“You can’t forget the damn thing, it’s in your wrist.”

She reached for Leta’s arm, and it was this gesture that made Leta jolt out of her stupor. Society agents received implanted identification chips — of course. How could she have forgotten? Her father had one. Fiearius had one. She herself did not have one — she’d quit the Society science ward merely weeks before she was to receive it.

“Actually,” she said, thinking quickly and pulling her forearm away, “mine’s not. Never got it implanted. Because of–a blood condition.”

“Hm?” The woman blinked, then narrowed her eyes. “Well. I guess we’ll need to take you over to secondary processing.”

“Will — that take long?” said Leta uncertainly. “I really need to — to — ”

“Catch your ship?” offered Rogerson with tones of sympathy, and Leta nodded quickly. The fool had no idea that he was assisting her.

“Sorry,” said the woman, frowning down at her clipboard. “Rules are rules, can’t let you into the docks without processing.”

“What ship are you on?” asked Rogerson.

“Oh, um — ”

Before Leta could invent a believable Society ship (the Beacon was the only one coming to mind), a shout from the other end of the hall made all three of them spin around.

“There you are!”

Two figures were marching closer, a sight that made Leta’s heart sink: her lies were working on two agents, but surely she’d be sniffed out when more arrived. One was a man in full armored gear of a Society Elite that looked out of place in this quiet hallway, but at his side was a woman who —

Leta’s heart flipped over.

The woman was in commander blues and a Ridellian headscarf Leta recognized instantly. Addy.

And beside her, that must have been Cyrus. They were in disguise. How the hell had they made it here? Leta quickly tried to dissolve the surprise out of her face.

“We’ve been looking all over for you!” scolded Addy, in a voice Leta had never once heard her use. “Do you realize how much trouble you’re in? How late you are? Our entire schedule put off, because you can’t even be bothered to wake up on time. I swear, this is your last warning, agent.”

Rogerson scratched his hair, looking between the two new arrivals in confusion. His stare set on Cyrus who he looked up and down. “Aren’t you a little short to be an Elite?”

Beneath his heavy gear, Cyrus shrugged, while Addy continued to chastise Leta. “If the captain finds out about this? Gods, you’d best hope he doesn’t.”

Leta managed to strike a note of regret. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it, agent.” Addy reached out and grabbed her arm, beginning to pull her away. “Let’s just get you onboard before anyone else notices.”

As they turned to leave, the other woman spoke up. “Hang on, there, Commander, she still needs to be processed.”

Addy just looked back with a glare. “We don’t have time for processing. Unless you want to explain to the captain of the Titan why his navigation technician isn’t aboard.”

“Well–” the woman stammered. “No, ma’am, but the rules–”

“Aren’t applicable here,” Addy finished firmly. “We’ll be going now. Have a pleasant day, agent.” Abruptly, she turned on her heel and stalked away down the hall, dragging Leta with her and Cyrus a few steps behind. They made it all the way to the corner before she heard Rogerson say, “Wait a minute. Didn’t the Titan leave for repairs two days ago?”

Leta’s heart sunk. Addy’s grip tightened on her arm. And just as they rounded the corner, there was a shout behind them, “Hey, wait! Come back here!”

Addy, Cyrus and Leta exchanged one wild look of panic. And then, in a clumsy caravan, they bolted.

“Well, that half-worked,” Cyrus called, swiping off his helmet and tossing it behind him as they tore down the corridor.

“When has that plan ever fully worked?” Leta cried.

“Never. And yet we keep trying it,” said Cyrus, sounding hysterical as his feet pounded the floor. “Funny, that.”

“Yes, it’s hilarious, now how do we get out of here?”

Overhead, an alarm began to blare over the speakers, followed by a cold female voice. Attention. Intruders in building A. Code 403. Agents be advised.

“Uh … quickly,” finished Cyrus. “C’mon, let’s go this way.”

Suddenly, Cyrus turned down a corridor and out a pair of double doors, straight into the narrow alley beyond, where voices were bouncing off the walls. Leta could not imagine why Cyrus led them into an alley filled with people — what was he thinking? — but as she staggered to a halt, then caught one look at the scene in front of her, she immediately understood.

Civilians, citizens and even some scattered Society agents themselves were crowded around the east end of the alley that lead to the docks, shouting pleas, yelling profanities and banging their fists in protest. No one spared them a second glance: here, they could blend in.

All around them, the crowd was in an uproar. “This is ridiculous!” “Why can’t we board?” “Come on, let us through!”  “Open up!”

Cyrus slipped into the fray, with Leta and Addy following on his heels. At the head of the crowd, a wall of armed Society agents were forming a barricade in front of the departing ships.

“Everyone remain calm!” yelled a commanding officer, strolling in front of the angry crowd. “You’ll be allowed through as soon as we locate the trespassers!”

Everything about Vescent — from the gray clouds in the sky, to the slick cobblestone streets, to the stone buildings — was entirely strange and foreign. Not a piece of it felt familiar. As best as Addy could manage, she kept her head down, only briefly consulting the map she’d drawn on the inside of her palm, as she navigated her way through the dark streets. She hoped she didn’t look as out of place as she felt. Otherwise, this mission would be over before it even began.

And she couldn’t bear the thought of returning without them. She couldn’t; she wouldn’t do it. No matter what Fiearius had said. “If something happens — if you can’t do it — just come back, okay? Come back, with or without them. No matter what,” he’d warned, just before she’d stepped into one of the Beacon’s fighter ships.

Addy had nodded. Then she said,  “Corra’s gonna kill you once she finds out.”

“Probably,” said Fiearius. “But I’ll handle her. You just look out for yourself. Dov’ha re’ija niéle.”

The fighter ship was a bigger vessel than Addy anticipated, but still flew beautifully; she could see why Finn loved these little ships. In the journey toward Vescent, she occupied her mind by tinkering with the ship’s security protocol to make sure there’d be no hiccups when she arrived.

After the landing, Addy’s nerves keyed up. The air was cool and she squinted up at the swirling gray Vescent sky — nothing like Satieri, nothing at all — and then joined the check point line. Her hands were shaking, so she slid them into her jacket pockets and tried to keep her expression neutral. But her heart was ramming inside her ribcage.

She realized that she had not, until this moment, really believed there was any possibility her fake CID wouldn’t work.

When it was her turn, the agent gazed hard at her face, read the console screen, then waved her through. She had to concentrate on not heaving a heavy sigh of relief.

But she’d made it through the entry gates into the city. She’d made it inside. Now, it was a matter of finding where Cyrus and Leta were hiding out.

Society agents stood at every corner, dressed in all black. Some of them were armed with heavy assault rifles; others stood there with their arms crossed; Addy saw one agent yelling in a woman’s face, and she quickly veered in a different direction.

When she’d found the apartment, when at last Delia had let her inside, Addy took her first real breath. Cyrus was the only familiar sight she’d seen in days.

“Cyrus, I — “

He looked thunderstruck. Then he crossed through the living room room, grasped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers, warmly and fully, for nearly five seconds. She could hear Leta letting out a gasp of shock, but in those five seconds, Addy let herself revel in the warmth and shock that he was alive. That she’d found him. Normally she would have been embarrassed by the tears that formed in her eyes, but when Cyrus released her, she just brushed them away carelessly.

“What are you doing here?!” Cyrus demanded. “How’d you get here?”

“It’s a long story.” She let out a shaky gasp — half laughing, half crying. “Basically, thanks to some of my dad’s genius, I can land safely on some Society planets. Oh, and hi, Leta,” she added, glancing over Cyrus’ shoulder to see her on the edge of the room.

She looked stricken with uncertainty. “Is — Fiearius isn’t here too, is he?”

“No, no, I traveled alone.”

“Thank the gods,” said Cyrus, groaning as he took Addy’s wrists and led her over to the couch. He sat down, holding her wrist tighter. “I mean, not that it’s good that you’re here. Shit, what are you doing here? Do you realize where you are? How dangerous it is? Gods, what if someone caught you or something happened? Did Fiearius send you? Why the hell did he–”

“Can you save that for later?” said Addy, unable to bite back a smile. “Less about how I got here. More about how we’ll get out of here. I have a ship. One of the Beacon’s fighters. We can leave on it.”

Cyrus winced, biting down on his thumbnail. “Well that’s one big problem solved, but what use is a ship if we can’t get to it? There are agents everywhere. And the dock’s checkpoint…”

“What if we go during a rush period?” said Leta at once. Addy could see the hope in her face, and her heart twisted: Addy wished she had some way of reassuring Fiearius that she was alive and alright. “The guards are more lax during crowded hours,” she went on quickly. “They can’t check everyone. If we get there in the morning when the dock’s busy? We can blend into the crowd and slip right through.”

Cyrus nodded slowly. “Right. That could work.” His eyes trailed across the room to Delia who hadn’t spoken a word since Addy had arrived. She stood up against the wall in the corner looking uncomfortable in her own home. Her arms were crossed over her chest, the corners of her mouth were turned down.

Carefully, Cyrus asked, “Is it alright if we stay just one more night? Then we’ll be gone, I swear it. Just one more night.”

Delia looked up at him, her eyes dazed as though she only just remembered he was there at all. “What if it doesn’t work?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

Cyrus glanced at Leta who looked at Addy who had no idea what they would do if it didn’t work. Gods, it just had to work. They had to get to that ship no matter what.

And Delia confirmed it. “You can stay one more night,” she said, her tone cold. “But after that, don’t come back here. I can’t–” She swallowed hard. “I don’t want to turn you in. I don’t. But you can’t be here anymore.”

The three of them shared a look before Cyrus met Delia’s stare. He could do nothing but nod.

—————

The entry gates to the docks were crowded with people, but eerily silent. Tension was thick in the air. No one in the sea of people spoke above a hushed whisper as they edged forward toward entrance. “Move!” one of the agents barked, making an elderly woman jump; she hurried through the gates and toward the row of ships.

Leta was donning the headscarf again, her eyes darting around as the line began to move. She kept close to Cyrus and Addy. Together, they made a point of staying in the center of the crowd, hopefully preventing agents from seeing them too closely. Leta’s heart turned over in her chest: was it possible they would be leaving? Was it possible — dare she believe it — that she’d see Fiearius by tomorrow? Her chest ached with hope.

The line inched forward again. They were ten people away from the entrance, then five, then three, and Leta could feel her breathing shorten with worry. At her side, Cyrus was wrought with tension, and for a fleeting moment she saw Cyrus and Addy holding hands amongst the crowd.

Just when they reached the gate, a shout erupted into the air. Leta jumped and spun around just in time to see two agents pulling at a woman, dragging her away from the scene. She was screaming.

“No — no, you can’t take her away!” the woman sobbed. “That’s my daughter — you can’t let her go without me, she’s just a child — ! Wait, WAIT!”

It was clear the agents were trying to silence her, but unrest rippled through the crowd: murmurs erupted as people began to shift uneasily. A woman near Leta’s ear suddenly grabbed her arm, making her jump.

“The last time someone fought them like this, they shut down the docks for a month,” the woman breathed, her eyes wide and horrified. “No one could leave at all.”

Fear bolted through her. She shared one look of terror with Cyrus and Addy, and they had a silent conversation. Shut down for a month? They could have been trapped here for —

But Leta never got the chance to even think through this horrible possibility. The woman being dragged off was still screaming. Then five more agents pushed through the gates, pushing people out of their way — barking orders —

“Dock access is a privilege, not a right!” one of the men yelled. The crowd was stirring around him. “All citizens must — ”‘

Abruptly, the man stopped, and Leta experienced a cold wave of shock when she realized he was staring straight at her. His face darkened and he grunted, to her astonishment, “All Society personnel need to pass through Checkpoint B. What’re you doing over here? You should know better.”

Leta felt her mouth open, but no words came out. Society personnel? How did he — why did he —

At her side, Cyrus gave her the slightest nudge on her arm. Her tattooed arm. Glancing down briefly, she realized that when the strange woman had grabbed her, she’d pulled on her sleeve — exposing her librera for all the city to see.

At once, the citizens standing around Leta grumbled and backed away. I’m not one of them, Leta thought, feeling powerless and hysterical as the Society agent approached and took her arm.

“C’mon, you, over this way,” he said, steering her away from Cyrus and Addy who could only look on in horror as she was drawn into the crowd.

The table descended into silence as the three of them, unlikely dinner companions, nervously picked at the food in front of them. It was often like this around here, Cyrus found. Perhaps it was just him, but ever since he’d arrived, he felt the awful looming expectation that at any moment someone would barge through the door and drag them off to be executed in the city sqaure themselves. It didn’t exactly make for good dinner conversation.

But suddenly Delia, to his side, started laughing, apparently at nothing. Alarmed, Cyrus looked at Leta who just stared back at him, perplexed. Delia just kept on laughing until finally she got a hold of herself.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out as she tried to steady her breathing. “I’m so sorry. This is just so–it’s so weird. I just can’t believe that I’m sitting here eating cheap takeout on Vescent with Cyrus Soliveré hiding from the Society.”

Cyrus didn’t exactly get the humor in the situation, but she wasn’t wrong. He chuckled a in return and muttered, “Yeah, it’s — it’s kinda strange.”

“No no, you don’t even know how strange,” she corrected him, raising her hand. “I used to hate you.”

Cyrus said, blankly, “Wait — what?”

“Back at Sonnete? Gods, you were so rude,” she went on, and Leta snorted.

Delia continued, sounding amused, “I said hello to you every morning. You know what you said to me? Nothing. Nothing or hell, sometimes you even glared at me. You were so stuck-up and arrogant. You never gave anyone else the time of day. You acted like you were better than everyone there. You were genuinely terrible.”

It was not the revelation Cyrus was expecting. Though even if he had, it still stung. Okay, so he hadn’t been the greatest of people back then. Sure, he’d had a big head and a bit of a crappy attitude, but he’d never known that people actually hated him.

“I thought you two were friends,” said Leta, looking intrigued herself.

“Friends? Hardly,” Delia scoffed. “I didn’t even know you knew my name.”

Red  by now with embarrassment, Cyrus stammered, “Of course I knew your name, I–” But there was a much more pressing question on his mind. “I don’t get it. Why did you help us then?”

“Well I’m not heartless,” Delia laughed. “Sure, I never liked you, but gods, if I’d turned you in on the Titan?” She shook her head. “I don’t want you dead. I don’t want anyone dead. I mean, I was genuinely glad when you left Sonnete. That’s a terrible thing to say, but it was true at the time. Now, of course, I feel awful, knowing that you were kidnapped. Definitely not glad anymore. Sorry about that.” She smiled sheepishly.

“But–I don’t know, you’re so much better now,” she went on. “You seem–I don’t know. Better.” A genuine smile pulled across her face before she added in jest, “Maybe getting kidnapped by murderous traitors was good for you?”

And that, Cyrus was found, was when he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I wasn’t kidnapped,” he said suddenly. Leta dropped her fork with a clatter. Delia knitted her brow, confused.

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t kidnapped, Delia. And my brother’s not–”

“Cyrus,” Leta breathed sharply.

But he shook his head. “I have to tell her the truth. She has to know.”

“She already knows the truth,” Leta growled, but Cyrus had already turned back to Delia.

“Fiearius Soliveré isn’t a traitor. He’s not murderous. He’s not dangerous. The things the Society says about him, they’re lies.”

Leta put her head in her hands beside him, but Delia was watching Cyrus with wide eyes. “What are you–not dangerous–but the Titan!”

“He’s fighting the Society, yes. We all are. But not because we’re the bad guys, we–” Suddenly Cyrus’ words were stuck in his throat. How could he explain this? How could he make her understand? “They killed his family, Delia. When they made him Verdant, they killed his wife and his four year old son. Just to manipulate him.” He heard her gasp as she put a hand over her mouth. “And you remember the Nautilus?”

Her hand fell away, just slightly. “The terraformer project? Of course. It was your pride and joy.”

“And you remember the break-in? That ended with it broken nearly beyond repair?” She nodded. “It wasn’t a break-in. It was me. I destroyed it because I found out what they were going to do with it once it was done. They weren’t going to use it on uncivilized planets.” Delia’s hand clasped over her mouth again and her horrified eyes peered over it.

“And we’re not the only ones. They imprisoned Leta’s fiance just for knowing too much. They’ll kill anyone who makes even the slightest transgression against them, whether they know they’re guilty or not. The Society was once a force of good, yes, but it’s gotten too powerful. And now? Now it’s dangerous. That’s why I left when my brother showed up asking for help. And that’s why we’re fighting them now. That’s why we were on the Titan. That’s why we’re fugitives and have to get off this planet as soon as possible. And I thought you needed to know. I think everyone needs to know.” He reached over and put his hand on her arm as he said seriously, “You’re not safe, Delia. No one is. Not anymore.”

Delia could not have been more stunned. She didn’t move. She didn’t blink. She just stared at him, horrified, unable it seemed to find any words. Cyrus half wondered if they were about to be thrown out. But before she got the chance, there was a knock on the door.

Leta practically jumped out of her seat, her hand going to the knife she hadn’t taken from her hip since they’d landed. Cyrus too got to his feet and quietly started to usher Leta towards the back room. Delia almost seemed like she wasn’t even going to get up, but finally, as Cyrus secured the both of them out of sight, he heard her footsteps and the sound of the door opening.

On the other side, he heard a quiet, nervous voice. “A-are you Delia?”

Cyrus felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. There was something oddly familiar about that voice …

“Yes, can I help you?” was Delia’s cold response.

“I’m looking for — an engineer. An experienced engineer. My ship, The Beacon, has a broken B-valve … ”

And it hit him. But no. It couldn’t be. There was no way. Ignoring Leta’s hushed protests, Cyrus peered around the corner into the living room, past Delia and at the woman standing in the door. The messy blonde hair. The gray-blue eyes.

“Addy?!”

——————-

“Nauseous…” Daelen muttered lamely, staring down at the mess, disheartened. “I’ll go get a mop…”

As he walked away, Corra too was staring at it, a grimace on her face. “Ew.”

Disgusted, exhausted, confused and still nauseous, Fiearius was hardly in the mood for Corra’s flippancy. “What the hell,” he began through heaving breaths, “is going on?”

Finally, her face softened and she turned her big brown doe eyes on him in, of all things, pity. “You were acting crazy, Fiear. You were going to get yourself killed. Or kill us. We had to stop you, I’m sorry…”

“I’m not crazy,” he growled.

“No no, of course you’re not,” she admitted in a hurry. “You’re just in a really hard place right now. I understand. But you’ve gotta stay with us, okay?” She put her hand on his arm. “We need you. To figure this out, we need you sane and conscious and not on the verge of committing suicide or homicide or genocide or whatever you were planning. Okay?”

Despite himself, he felt his resolve weaken. Corra had a hard face to say no to. But still. “I’m not leaving them there.”

“I’m not asking you to,” she assured him. “But we’re gonna find the right way to not leave them. The way that doesn’t end up with you dead.”

Just then, Daelen returned and began cleaning up the unfortunate mess covering the floor. Corra smiled at him in pity and then said, “Finn and I are going through our options. You stay here for a little bit, get some rest, let the good doctor check you out and come join us when you’re feeling better, okay?” She smiled at him kindly and then turned for the door, leaving Fiearius alone with Daelen in silence.

Fiearius glanced down at the man as he effortlessly wiped away the remains of his breakfast. “Sorry…” he muttered.

Daelen looked up at him and smiled. “It shouldn’t surprise you that I’m quite used to it. Surgeons see a lot of blood and guts. General practitioners get all the less romanticized bodily fluids.” He then laughed heartily as though he’d just told an amusing joke.

“Right,” Fiearius muttered, the humor lost on him. Meanwhile, Daelen propped the mop against the wall and moved to the console.

“Well my patients always thought it was funny,” he mused lightly and then, without skipping a beat, as though it was the most natural question in the world, he asked, “So what did you take?”

Fiearius looked up in shock. How did he–But he hadn’t–

“What?” was all he could choke out.

Daelen just looked back at him calmly. “What did you take?” he asked again, an image of patience. When Fiearius did nothing but continue to watch him, horrified, he went on, “Captain Soliveré, your blood test results are quite clear. Paired with your erratic behavior and your recent bout of sickness, the correlation is obvious. It will make it a lot easier for me to do my job if you just tell me what it was you took and how much.”

Fiearius could barely process his words. His head was already swimming in the implications. Daelen knew. He knew the secret he’d been keeping for all these months. And if Daelen knew, it was only a matter of time before Leta knew. Before everyone knew. Before everything came crashing down. As if it hadn’t already.

The doctor must have sensed his discomfort. He turned from the console and stepped towards him. “Captain, need I remind you, everything said between us here is entirely confidential. It needn’t be verbally shared nor included on any written record. I took an oath and I hold to it firmly. But I need you to tell me so that I can help you.”

Despite his reassurances, Fiearius couldn’t stop imagining the look on Leta’s face when she found out. And if she ever made if off Vescent, she would find out. He’d always known she would. Since the beginning. He had always known it would be their end, but now it was closer than ever and he couldn’t ignore it anymore. He looked up at Daelen, sure that the pleading was apparent in his eyes. His mouth tightened shut. The doctor sighed.

“Alright,” he said in admission. “Fine.” He turned from the bed and moved back to the console. “But I’ll tell you this much. Whatever it is, you need to stop taking it. These test results are bad. Very bad. I’ll give you a prescription for something that should help with any withdrawals you might experience, but there’s not much else I can do without an identification.” He glanced over at him, his usual friendly face going dark and serious. “But stop now. Or you might not have much time left.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Daelen had left Fiearius alone in the infirmary, giving him ten minutes to get himself together, as if that was even possible: he sat on the edge of the exam bench, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand. Nausea swam through his stomach. His mind reeling. The Titan, Vescent, now this? He could practically feel the foundation crumbling beneath his feet. What the hell was he going to do now? What was his next move? Everything was falling apart and what could he —

“Fiearius?” came a sudden voice in the doorway. Fiearius dropped his hand and was startled to see, of all people, Addy. Though he knew Cyrus was infatuated with her, Fiearius himself had never actually spoken to her alone. Clearly, she was nervous: she wrung her hands together and started speaking very quickly.

“Hi. Sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to you. It’s — pretty important.” She blew a shaky breath from her lips and said, to his astonishment,  “I can do it. I can go to Vescent.”

Fiearius awaited an explanation. She looked shocked by her own daring.

“What?” As little as he knew her, he knew she wasn’t stupid. She certainly didn’t seem reckless. So where was this coming from?

“I can do it,” she said again, more firmly this time. “And I think I’m the only one who can.”

Fiearius stared at her, dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “If you think they don’t know you’re associated with us just ‘cause you’re new, I’ve got some bad news.”

Addy shook her head hurriedly. “No no, it’s not that, I–”

“And you’re a defector, aren’t you?” he went on. “You left Satieri. If that’s recorded, you’d be as much a target as the rest of us.”

“Right, yeah, I am a defector, technically,” she managed, her voice surprisingly steady given the alarm in her face. “But I’ve been … working under a different alias. I guess you could say.” She looked like she would’ve liked to smile, but her lips twitched bitterly. “My dad gave me a new CID, a whole new identity, so I could get off Satieri safely. Adrasteia Atelier, as far as the Society knows, is still working in her father’s garage on Paradiex. I, on the other hand, am Rena Eisen, an Ellegian engineering consultant, documented freelancer for a variety of tech companies throughout the Span. All parts of the Span. Society-run parts included.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. Addy had an advantage. An incredible advantage. Her father had smartly ensured that. Of course, it made sense, he voluntarily sent his daughter away from Satieri rather than the scattered hurried fleeing of the Soliveré brothers. Why wouldn’t he take precautions to make sure she’d be safe and able to move about freely? She could travel to Vescent without detection. Her alias would cover her. It was genius. It was perfect.

But it was still suicide.

“It’s too dangerous,” Fiearius decided at once as he pushed himself up to his feet. “Getting onto Vescent is one thing, getting off is another. And though you may be covered, your passengers wouldn’t be. Leaving won’t just be a matter of boarding a ship and flying off. It’ll take a little more…”

He didn’t want to say ‘skills’ because surely Addy had plenty. But if things didn’t go smoothly, if it at all went south, he didn’t even know if Addy had fired a gun before. In the middle of Society territory didn’t seem like the smartest place to start.

Fiearius started toward the door, ready to pass her, but Addy didn’t move. Abruptly, she dropped her hands to her sides and said, “Sorry, Fiearius. I should have clarified. It’s not that I can go to Vescent. It’s that I am. I’m going.” Her eyes were wide, shining with determination. “I’m going after them.”

Fiearius felt a pained laugh tumble out of him. “Look,” he said, holding his forehead, “I’m willing to consider any option we have, believe me. I want nothing more than to have them back, but I’m not gonna sacrifice you to make it happen, alright? If anyone’s going to Vescent, it’ll be me.” He looked away from her with a frown. “Just as soon as I figure how to get there…”

“No, you don’t understand.” She swallowed. “I’m not asking for your permission, or anyone else’s. I already made contact with a passenger vessel. I’m going to Vescent. If you could please give me that address from the message, that would be helpful. But I’m going regardless.”

She looked gravely serious. Fiearius could not believe her.

“This is crazy,” he breathed. “This is completely crazy. I hope you know that.”

Addy stared back at him, holding his gaze. But Fiearius couldn’t say he was surprised. He hadn’t paid enough attention before to really know what it was that Cyrus saw in this seemingly meek engineer girl, but now it made so much sense. His brother had always fallen for women who could kick his ass.

“I have a chance to save them, Fiearius,” Addy said evenly. “It’s too dangerous for any of you to go, but I have a chance. And I’m taking it. Tell me you wouldn’t do the same.”

He met her eyes firmly, reading the intensity behind them. Of course he would. In a heartbeat. So as much as it pained him, as much as he knew Cyrus would kill him when he found out, he relented. “Fine. If I can’t stop you…I guess I’ll just have to help you.”

“That’d be nice,” said Addy, cracking the tiniest of smiles. She stepped into the room and quickly became all business. “I came to you first because Corra and Finn will be horrified. I know they won’t let me go. But what’re you thinking?”

Fiearius leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “We’ll find a map. Plan out a route through the city with as few checkpoints as possible,” he decided. “Get you a gun. Something small, like any regular traveler would carry for self defense. Work out the specifics of why you’re visiting in case someone asks. Oh and cancel the passenger ship. Can’t trust any old crew, they’re likely just looking to make a profit.”

Addy nodded, but tilted her head in confusion. “How am I gonna get there then?”

Fiearius pushed himself from the counter and took a few steps towards her. “Well. What better for a consulting engineer to travel in than a high tech Sonnete-built fighter, lent to her for her visit to their subsidiary on Vescent?” He raised a brow at her. “Don’t suppose you know how to disable Corra’s alarms?”

“It may be your ship, but it’s our dock and you can’t use it without our go-ahead. And you don’t have it,” Corra added.

“Right,” Fiearius muttered. “Because you’d rather just stand here and squabble while your friends die. Great idea.”

He had expected Corra to falter, but she stood her ground and stared back at him with a new bout of fearlessness. “You’re not leaving this ship, Fiearius,” she barked. “Not ‘til we have a plan. We’re not losing you too.”

Fiearius met her stare straight on, as unafraid as she was. Finally, he let out a bitter, tortured laugh and stalked from the room.

———————

Hours later, Fiearius had a plan. He had to have a plan, he could not go any longer not having a plan, so he’d made a plan. Corra, true to her threat, had sealed off the dock, locking him out of his ship, and although he had spent a good twenty minutes yelling about it, refused to change her mind. But he knew there was another way. He’d spent the past few hours marching around the Beacon before it had come to him but finally, it came. The something, anything, just need to act, plan, that he was sure would work. It had to work. It didn’t have an option to not work.

The Dionysian wasn’t the only vessel stored within the Beacon. It was so simple. Of course. Take off in one of its fighters, fly down to Vescent and get them. Easy. Take a nice gun, everything would be fine. He’d be back before anyone noticed he was gone.

And they were watching. As he stalked the halls, he could feel Corra’s eyes on him, even when she wasn’t in the room. Waiting for him to make a move so she could stop him. She was in on it. She didn’t want him to save them. But no, that was just the paranoia again. He shook it off as he strode through the double doors into the bay. He probably shouldn’t have taken that extra pill. He was beginning to think it was affecting the way he thought.

Regardless, he was motivated. He was focused. He was invincible. He felt twenty years old again and ready for anything. Ready specifically for saving Leta and Cy from Vescent. Hurriedly, he pulled on one of the flight suits from the storage locker and secured the helmet over his head. He turned back towards the nearest of the Beacon’s sleek, little fighter jets and put his hands on his hips, determined. So he’d never flown one before. But how hard could it be, really? This would be easy. He could do anything. Anything at all. So without a second thought, he climbed into the cockpit, ready for a rescue mission.

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

With a jolt, Eve sat up from her spot against the wall and stared through narrowed, discerning eyes as the tall figure of Fiearius suddenly stalked past her post, purpose in his steps. He had the walk of a man who was determined to do something and totally blind to the consequences. He was entirely lost. He had no idea what he was doing. He was grieving for Leta and his brother and he didn’t even realize it. The poor fool.

Seconds later, Eve was pounding down the stairs after him, swiftly pulling her handgun off of her hip. Wherever he was going, whatever he was doing, she doubted it would be good.

Inside the fighter bay, Eve approached more quietly, giving him a moment to adjust to his surroundings.  Fiearius was in the cockpit, preparing the tiny ship for escape.

She didn’t want to startle him into doing anything stupid, but this couldn’t go on. Internally, she was fairly certain Finn and Corra had already disabled the departure mechanisms, but Eve was taking no chances. None. Fiearius wasn’t going down this way — so needlessly. So foolishly.

She approached from the side, purposely ruining her element of surprise, giving him plenty of time to spot her as she slowly lifted her gun to point at him. Nearly. It was actually pointing four inches left of his shoulder, but to someone as hazy he was, surely he wouldn’t notice. The threat had to be enough. Regret tugged at her heart — she was never disloyal. Ever. But this has to be done.

“Cap’n,” she muttered bitterly, her voice sharp and full of warning, “you get out of that cockpit. Hear me? You ain’t going anywhere tonight.” Her gun was steady. Her eyes narrowed toward slits as she went on harshly, “This won’t help them, captain. They need you alive and on your own ship. Got it? They need you here.”

– – – – – –

Fiearius scanned over the controls. None of them looked familiar. All of them looked a little blurry. In fact, everything looked a little blurry. He shook his head and tried to refocus his vision. But as long as this little ship was anything like the Dionysian (and surely it must be. How different could ships be, really?), he could figure it out. He hit what he could only assume was the power button and sure enough, the lights flicked on around him. One in particular was flashing red.

As he kept prodding at it, trying to get it to stop or trying to understand what it meant, something caught his eye. Something approaching the cockpit. Someone, actually. Eve, he recognized after a moment. Eve who was — wait — pointing a gun at him? At him?

For a moment, he stayed where he was, stunned, shocked even. What the hell was she doing? Did she not want him to save Leta and Cyrus either? Honestly, he couldn’t fathom why. What was her motivation? Was she working for the Society? Or did she just want them out of the picture for–for some reason? Maybe she was jealous. Yeah, that could be it. She wanted to be second in command of the Dionysian. Or she wanted Leta’s position of influence.

Well Fiearius would have none of that. He watched her for one more moment before finally, he secured his hands on the sides of the cockpit and swiftly swung himself out of it, landing with a thump on the ground. Calmly, fearlessly, he started to take slow steps towards her, a knowing glare dug into his brow.

——————–

Corra snapped awake as the alarm blared overhead. The moment she heard it, she knew exactly what it was. It took only a singular glance at the security feed to confirm. Oh Fiear, she grumbled internally as she rolled out of bed. As she ran out the door, she lifted the COMM to her mouth. “Meet me down there.”

Corra had asked Addy and Finn to set up the alarms before they went to bed, desperately hoping that they wouldn’t need any of them. They were set on pretty much anything that could get someone off the ship or pilot the ship or use any of the ship’s resources in any way. For the first few hours, even after that argument, she believed it would actually be fine. Even grieving, Fiearius had obviously gotten so tired that he’d passed out somewhere and they were safe. Unfortunately that wasn’t true.

When she charged into the shuttle bay and found Fiearius holding Eve’s gun to his chest, she realized just how untrue it really was.

“What?” he was shouting at her. “You gonna shoot me? Gonna gun me down right here?” A manic grin that made Corra’s hair stand on end spread across his face. “Of course. You wanted them gone all along. No wonder you left them on the Titan. Go on then. Do it. Finish what you started.”

There was something in his eyes that Corra no longer recognized. He’d been a mess the past few days, understandably. He wasn’t sleeping, was barely eating, but that seemed normal. This though? This. This was beyond grief, beyond worry. This wasn’t Fiearius anymore. And he needed to be stopped.

“Fiearius!” she shouted, marching into the room. “What the hell are you doing?!”

When he turned his eyes on her, it only confirmed her fears. He looked far more dazed and confused than he had a couple hours ago. Something had dramatically changed. “And you!” he shouted back at her, releasing Eve’s wrist but instead seizing her gun, shoving her aside and turning it on Corra. Shocked, Corra halted in her path. Fiearius had done a lot of crazy things in her time knowing him. Said a lot of crazy stuff. But he’d never threatened her.

“You, what’s your game?” he demanded. “What are you getting out of this?”

“Fiear…put the gun down and we can talk,” she suggested hesitantly.

“How bout I keep the gun and you just talk,” Fiearius growled, still approaching her one slow step at a time. “Tell me why you gave them up to the Society.”

Corra’s eyes grew wide. “What? I didn’t–”

“Well you certainly don’t want me to save them,” he snapped.

“Fiearius, that’s ridiculous, I want them back just as much as you do,” she pleaded, holding up her hands in surrender.

“Don’t bullshit me. You’re in on this.” He spun back towards Eve. “You all are. You all are.” He swung the gun back to Corra. And back to Eve again. He couldn’t seem to decide who to shoot first. “I’m going to go save them. No matter what. I’m going to get them back whether you like it or not.” Finally, he settled on Eve, aiming the gun to her head and cocking it as he growled, “And you’re not gonna stop–”

There was a blur of motion to Corra’s right and suddenly, Fiearius let out a mighty yell. He clutched his hand to his neck and spun around, his arm crashing into Daelen’s face with a thud. “You son of a–” Fiearius began, but his eyes rolled back and he tumbled forward, landing on the ground in a pile of limbs.

Daelen, rubbing his eye where he’d been hit, slid the injector back into his belt and reached down to take the gun from Fiearius’ unconscious hand.

“You alright?” Corra asked him, feeling breathless.

“Nothing a little salve won’t mend,” he assured her, dutifully taking Fiearius’ pulse before standing up and sighing. “He’ll be out for a good twelve hours. We should get him upstairs if we can.”

——————–

“Cap’n?”

Fiearius stirred.

“Caaaap’n?”

Fiearius groaned.

“Fiear, wake up!” the voice snapped and suddenly there was a sharp pain on his cheek and he jolted up, nearly hitting Corra in the face.

Fortunately, just in time, she jumped backwards away from the bed. The infirmary bed that he was apparently laying in. He looked down at it, confused. How had he gotten here? What had happened? All his memories were suddenly a blur until the realization hit him: Leta and Cyrus.

At once, he made an attempt to get up, but a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. “You’ll want to stay where you are,” Daelen suggested. “It’ll take some time before the effects of the drug wear off. Also, you may be feeling a bit–”

Bile was rising in his throat before he even finished the sentence and suddenly Fiearius found himself doubling over the side bed and expelling everything from his stomach in one fell swoop.

Cyrus’ stomach turned over. Surely the answers he had were not the answers she wanted. He had never known Delia that well, but he knew her well enough to know that ‘We’re part of a pirate group trying to take down the Society’ would not appease her. Not when she bore a Society librera on her uniform. But she was giving them a chance, a chance they sorely needed. All he needed was an answer she’d want to hear. All he needed was a sob story.

Fleetingly, he glanced at Leta who gazed back at him in alarm. Fiearius had always been better about coming up with lies, but suddenly, an idea struck him.

“Delia,” he said, fixing her with an earnest stare. “Do you remember me telling you about my brother?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leta stiffen in alarm, but surely, it was useless to try and hide his relationship to the infamous Fiearius Soliveré. The surname was hardly common. It was bound to come out eventually. Might as well be now.

“Left home to join the Society, disappeared? I’m sure you’ve seen his name in the news recently…Rogue Verdant and all.” One of the other crew members gasped and put her hand over her mouth. Cyrus ignored her and pressed on.

“He didn’t disappear forever. He showed up again while I was at Sonnete. And he–well, he forced me to go with him when he fled the planet. Put a gun to my head and demanded I get him a ship to leave. I didn’t have a choice.” He gestured to Leta. “He kidnapped her, too, a while later because he was injured and needed a doctor. He’s been making us do these raids ever since. We’re just pawns in his scheme.”

It felt rather nauesating to lie about Fiearius. As if he didn’t already have a bad enough reputation amongst the Society. But he’d rather a little libel than admitting that Cyrus and Leta too were treasonous enemies of the Council. Unfortunately, one of them thought they were a little too opposite of that.

“Well this is good then, isn’t it?” the man pointed out, finally lowering his knife. “If he kidnapped you, you can seek asylum here. We’ll tell the captain and–”

“No,” Cyrus cut him off suddenly, a wave of panic running through him. “No, you don’t understand. If the leadership knows, they’ll just use us to get to him. We–” he glanced nervously at Leta “we know too much. There’s no way we’d come back from that…They’d use us and dispose of us after…”

His stare moved back to Delia. “Please, we just want out of this mess. Just let us take a shuttle out of here. I’ll do anything. I just want to go home.”

As he spun the tale, Delia’s face began to soften and when she finally spoke, it was with a heavy sadness.

“Cyrus, I’m sorry. I believe you, but–you can’t take a shuttle. Even if I said you could, the shuttles are closely monitored, command would know right away. You wouldn’t make it fifty feet.”

His heart began to sink, but slowly a comforting smile formed on Delia’s face. “But I want to help you,” she said, and added, “We want to help you.” She shot her two companions a glare and they reluctantly murmured their agreement. “So I’ll tell you what I can do. I can find a safe place for you to hide until we land and get you off the ship. Then you’re free to go wherever you want.”

Cyrus could almost not believe his ears. Of course, he was grasping onto hope, but he hadn’t actually thought that this woman, these people, would risk their jobs, their careers, hell, their lives to help them. Especially when — well, he had never been particularly kind to Delia in the past. She owed him nothing. And yet —

“Follow me,” she said, gesturing for them to follow as she made for the door. “I know just the place no one will find you.”

As Cyrus obediently fell into step behind her, Leta seized his arm and whispered into his ear, “We can’t trust her, Cy. I know she was your friend, but — ” She locked her eyes on Delia’s back. “But she’s still one of them, okay?”

Cyrus swallowed the lump in his throat. “I know. But right now, she’s our only chance of making it out of here.”

Leta frowned at him and then suddenly called to Delia, “Where’s this ship headed anyway?”

“Oh!” Delia exclaimed as though she had simply forgotten to offer them tea. “Right. We’re headed for Vescent. Have you ever been there?” she went on conversationally as all the color drained from Leta’s face.

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

Hours later, once the Titan landed smoothly into the docks and the crew departed, it became clear to Leta: this was not the Vescent she remembered. It was not the same place she’d left behind.

The main city square was no longer bustling with people. The harbor wasn’t crowded with boats. The main street of cafes and restaurants and coffee shops were dark, and many of them were shut down or replaced with sterile-looking office buildings. It was summer in Fall’s End, it was only early evening, the air was warm, but hardly anyone was outside.

“It’s past curfew,” Delia explained hurriedly. “We have special exception since our ship docked so late, but … ”

But she still hurried them along. Leta could not take her eyes off the foreign landscape. Her impulse was to stop and stare like they’d arrived on a foreign moon, but Delia shuffled them urgently from the ship to her nearby apartment, taking great care to avoid the watching eyes of higher Society agents.

As they passed through the cobblestone streets, Leta gazed at the posters pasted to the brick walls. Beware the Rogue Verdant! one warned. ATTENTION VALUED CITIZENS OF VESCENT: City curfew in effect …

In the center of the square, Leta actually stopped and gazed at a trifecta of flags blowing in the breeze, each of them proudly displaying the librera. Cyrus quickly steered her away.

When they crested the stairs to the top floor of Delia’s apartment building, Leta hardly heard what her two companions were talking about. Her mind was racing. For the first time since she’d stepped foot on the Dionysian nearly a year ago (she still remembered it vividly — seeing Fiearius yelling at the top of the ramp was burned into her mind) … she was home. She really was home. Or was she?

“We should hurry,” said Delia, fumbling with her keys and dropping them twice before finally opening the door.

Delia’s apartment was clean and comfortable, and barely lived-in; clearly, she traveled a lot for her Society employers. Leta stepped inside numbly, barely taking in her new surroundings. She felt Delia cast her one weary look, as if fearful for what she would do next. Then she turned back to the door and secured the lock, in a rather paranoid fashion. At last, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’ll be safe here for now. I think. Just um — make yourself at home,” she offered, offering Cyrus a weak smile.

Cyrus returned the smile but it faltered. “Delia, thank you, that’s–that’s very kind of you, but we can’t stay here. If they find out we’re here … we can’t put you in that kind of danger.”

“But we’ve got to stay off the streets,” Leta pointed out. “They’ll recognize us. Or me, at least.”

“See? You’re way worse off out there than in here,” Delia agreed. She moved into the kitchen and began fussing with a kettle. “There’s no reason for anyone to search my apartment. You can stay here until you figure out how to–” she faltered and tilted her head at them. “I don’t know, whatever you’re planning to do.”

Cyrus glanced at Leta uncertainly. “What are we planning to do?”

“We need to get a ship out of here,” she said sharply.

“I somehow doubt it’ll be that easy,” Cyrus pointed out.

“The docks are the most secure area of the city,” Delia called from the kitchen, “especially for outgoing ships. And most of those outgoing ships are Society ships. Getting you out went okay, but getting you back in a ship will be a lot harder.”

“So what do we do then?” Leta asked, frustrated. “Just wait for someone to come save us?”

This struck her as the most frightening scenario. Fiearius would chase down the Society ship if it meant getting them back. If it meant getting himself killed.

It was almost assuring and terribly frightening for Leta to murmur, “They probably don’t even know where we are.”

Cyrus frowned and pushed his glasses up his nose, the surest sign he was thinking hard. Finally, he said, “No. But I think I have an idea that’ll fix that.” Turning to the kitchen, he called, “Delia? Would you mind if I used your console?”

Frantically, he looked around for a place to hide, but the hallway was devoid of any nooks or crevices. The only thing around was a lifeless Society agent, curled in the fetal position, still holding her hand over the glistening wound in her chest. And as the voices got closer, she gave him an idea.

“Get down!” he whispered and dropped to the floor, face down, letting his body go completely limp. He heard the thump of Leta doing the same beside him. Playing dead. Like animals, he thought bitterly.

The footsteps came closer, then stopped. Cyrus stilled his breath, but nothing could still the heart pounding in his chest. One of the voices said, “Shit. It’s Larson.”

They must’ve meant the agent.

“Godsdamn,” said the other. “She was just a rookie.”

“Well, she knew what she was getting herself into with this mission,” said the first.

The other person released a sigh. “Yeah I guess. Still. Didn’t deserve it.”

The men started to move again, coming closer, only inches from where Cyrus lay. One set of footsteps walked right on by, but the other. The other, horrifyingly, came to a stop beside him. He could feel eyes on the back of his head and inside, his mind screamed to stay quiet, to not move, to blend in.

But just as he was sure he was about to be discovered, the man hovering over him muttered, “Damn pirates,” and instead Cyrus felt a sharp pain in his stomach as a booted foot planted itself there. It was all he could do to just let his body take it and keep in the cry, but even if he had tensed, the man’s footsteps started again and he walked away, unnoticing.

Reeling from the pain, Cyrus still forced himself not to move until the sounds of the men had finally faded off into the distance of the hallway. And then Leta was above him, grabbing his arm and lifting him to his feet.

“Are you okay?” she breathed as Cyrus stumbled to his feet, clutching his arm over his stomach.

“Yeah,” he choked, shaking his head and hobbling onward. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Let’s just…get to the shuttles.”

The stairs were right around the corner and, thank the gods, empty. They flew downstairs and Cyrus breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the starboard corridor of Deck F also seemed devoid of life. They were almost there. They could get out of here. This was almost over.

But as he hit the controls to open the bay door, his heart sank and the dream of leaving became distant once again.

The shuttle bay was a mess. The Titan’s support ships were in pieces, strewn across the cold metal flooring, some tipped over, damaged, a few even destroyed entirely. Evidence of explosives littered the area. Bullet holes and blood riddled the scene. There had been quite a firefight here and by the looks of it, it had ended badly. Even the shuttles still intact were risky. If its hull was breached and its sensors didn’t pick it up and they flew out of here into the black of space? They’d be better off on the Titan.

But just as the thought materialized, the span decided to remind him otherwise.

“Hey, you think we should check the shuttle bay?” called a voice past his shoulder, just outside the bay doors. “Might be someone hurt in there.”

Cyrus froze. And then he grabbed Leta’s arm and dove for cover behind the nearest crumbling hull as the doors slid open, allowing entrance to a small team of agents.

His heart lodged painfully in his throat as he crouched down to hide, shielded by the pillar of one of the shuttle’s legs. His hands were shaking terribly but he closed them around the metal bars and told himself to be still. Paralyzed as he was, he hardly dared to breathe as he watched with stricken eyes as the agents made their way into the bay.

What he expected was more gunmen. More of the lethal Society agents dressed in their slick all-black attire, heavily armed, ready to pick apart the ship limb from limb to gleefully find their prizes. And the reward — to then bring them to slaughter. If that were so — if execution was inevitable — Cyrus silently told himself he would not go down without his last shred of dignity. Not to the Society.

But it was not gunhands who entered. It was a group of people dressed in dark crew uniforms that could have belonged to any other passenger vessel, with a small silver librera stitched into the shoulder. No weapons in sight. Their voices carried through the room.

“Gods, I hope there’s no one else, the med bay’s already full as it is,” a woman was saying. Cyrus recognized the accent at once. Satieran. “I still can’t believe this even happened.”

“Makes sense though, doesn’t it?” added another voice thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?” asked another.

“Well, how weird command’s been acting lately,” said the other. “Think about it. All the extra security, the weird route, releasing the cruisers? I thought it was strange, but now it makes total sense.”

Perplexed, Cyrus darted a look toward Leta. Were they trapped? Could they slip by these people? Remain hidden? He knew one thing: if Fiearius were here, and it was a group of lowly unarmed crew members, they wouldn’t have been hiding. They would have been on the offense.

But even with the element of surprise, Cyrus knew he was in no shape for an attack of any kind. They wouldn’t get anywhere. Just when he managed to take a low breath and told himself to think, he heard it: a voice that was much, much closer.

The first woman laughed bitterly. “Wow, rumors spread fast apparently. You’re really buying into that bait theory Marshall came up with?”

“I’m not buying into anything,” said the other voice. “You know it’s true.”

“Sure,” the woman laughed. “Well, I don’t think there’s anyone down here. Just a whole lot of wreckage.”

To Cyrus’ horror, the woman rounded the corner of the ship. Cyrus caught a flash of her appearance — petite, curly jet-black hair hanging loosely in a bun, olive-tinted heart-shaped face — before the woman gasped, throwing her hand over her mouth. She was just as startled to see them as they were to be caught. Her eyes were wider than a whole planet.

In a shaky voice, she lowered her hand, and said the least likely greeting imaginable.

“Cyrus?” she gasped.

Cyrus head spun and with a jolt, he realized: he knew this woman. The curly hair, the wide green eyes.

“Delia?” he breathed, his mouth falling open. It really was her. They’d both worked at Sonnete years ago, though she had been little more than a receptionist at the time. But she had always greeted him with a smile as he passed her desk each morning, even when he was too busy, tired or cranky to return it. And now, here she was. Standing before him. On the Titan.

“What are you–” he began, just as Leta muttered, “You know her?” with her eyes wide and thunderstruck. By now, the other agents were rushing over, both of them shielding the woman from Cyrus and Leta as though they might attack at any moment. One of them drew a utility knife on them and it was enough to break Cyrus’ distraction.

Helplessly, he held his hands in the air. The armed man near Delia growled, “They’re raiders! Someone call security.”

The other woman pressed the button on her COMM and opened her mouth, but Delia held out her hand to stop her. “No, I know him!” she yelped, staring at Cyrus.

“They’re armed, Dee!” gasped the man with the knife, gesturing towards the pistols on both of their hips. “We need to report them.”

Feeling he had very little to lose at this point and desperate to cling onto any hope available, Cyrus muttered, “It’d be really nice if you didn’t…” and locked his pleading eyes with Delia. Her confused expression softened for a moment, it snapped right back.

“What — what’re you even doing here?” said Delia in exasperation, holding each side of her face in despair. Alarm shone in her face as she added, “Cy — did you — were you hurting those people? Were you part of — ”

“Of course not,” said Leta at once and Cyrus nodded fervently in agreement.

“Dee, you can’t really believe this,” said the man. “They’re armed. They’re not one of us. They’re obviously part of the raid. And we need to report them.”

“Arker’s right, they could be dangerous,” the other woman said.

But, thank the gods, Delia shook her head. “If we report them, they’ll be killed,” she groaned. “Do you want that kind of blood on your hands?” Both Arker and the woman looked away from her in shame. Apparently, they did not. Satisfied, Delia turned back to Cyrus. “Me either. But what I do want. Is answers. What’re you doing here, Cyrus?!”