It didn’t help matters that he could barely make himself focus. Three days had passed since he’d last taken one of those tiny white pills. He’d been wrong — he should have just given in this morning. He would’ve been on top of his game, but he’d felt moral obligation to resist, rather stupidly, he thought now. He’d congratulated his choice at the time. Now? Now his vision was blurring, his ears were ringing, his response time was delayed and people were dying. Now, he damned his choice to hell.

“Just hang in there,” he growled, clenching his fists around the edge of the console screen. “I’ll get back-up to you as soon as there’s bodies to spare.”

“May find nothing but bodies by the time they get here,” Rax snapped.

“How’s your brother doin’ with the blast doors?” came another voice — Quin’s. Judging by the background din, things were not faring well on her end, either. “Could sure as hell use ‘em right about now.”

Fiearius took a deep breath. “Status report, Cy?” When no answer arrived, he growled, “Cy? Cyrus, come in. Leta? Where the hell are you two — ”

“The command center’s blocking their transmissions,” Dez explained. “I was just there. He’s having trouble, the system appears to be predicting his actions and blocking him.”

“Sounds familiar,” Quin grunted. “This lot’s been predicting our actions and blocking our movements since we fuckin’ boarded.”

“It’s probably not a coincidence,” Dez added smoothly. The line went momentarily silent.

“Well of course it’s not a damn coincidence, ya genius, it’s–” said Quin, but Dez cut her off.

“They knew we would come.” His voice was cold, unsurprised. “And they were ready for us.”

Fiearius opened his mouth, then shut it quickly. “No way. No way they could have known. We were halfway across the Span last time they saw us. All the ships involved have the Society’s own damn stealth technology. They couldn’t have seen this coming.”

“No,” Dez agreed, his voice oddly calm. “Unless they put the ship here to make us come.”

Fiearius wanted to feel disbelief. He wanted to refute the insulting idea. But what he felt was a terrible, twisting shock in his chest.

The logic slid into place. They’d been winning so often. So easily. They had taken so many ships, downed bases, stations, remote checkpoints, of course the Titan seemed the ultimate prize. Of course they’d go straight to it. And of course the Society would put it right within their grasp.

“Shit — it’s a set-up,” Quin breathed, reading his mind. “They’re just planning to wipe us all out in one fell swoop — “

“And they’re fuckin’ succeeding,” added Rax angrily.

Dez’s voice cut through the others like a knife. “We need a plan.”

“Soliveré, the fuck do we do now?” shouted Quin.

“You’ve got that special chip thing,” said Rax, his voice rising with panic. “Can’t you do something with it?”

But Fiearius could barely grasp their voices. They were coming at him like waves, and he could feel himself sliding away from the moment, drowning in his own head. How — how — had he let this happen? Cyrus and Leta were on the ship, and he was here, and —

“Soliveré!” Quin shouted again.

“Fiearius, a course of action.”

Course of action? He could hardly plot the course of his finger as he moved it to press the COMM button. “Uh –”

“That’s not a fuckin’ answer, Soliveré, don’t you go still on us now!”

Answers. Solutions. Of course. Finally, the fog started to clear.

“Retreat,” he barked. “Back to the ships. Undock and fire at will. We need to get the hell out of here.”

—————

Leta paced across the command center floor, her figure periodically appearing and disappearing from Cyrus’ peripheral vision as he furiously tapped away at the console. “Please tell me you’re getting somewhere with this,” she begged.

Cyrus twitched in irritation. No matter what he did, no matter which method he tried, he just kept getting error after error after error. Every trick he knew kept yielding the same negative results and despite Leta’s hopes, he really was getting nowhere.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” he admitted as he hit the return and got the same blinking red screen. “It’s too secure, I can’t break into it. It’s–”

Abruptly, the floor beneath him began to tremble — slowly at first, then more urgently. Then the console screens flashed, the lights on the ceiling brightened, and a tremendous sound of electricity — like it was seizing and surging, powering up — overtook the room.

“Cy.” Leta grabbed onto a wall as the floor rattled below. “What’s happening?”

“It’s — it looks like — “ His eyes flew over the screens. He could barely answer her. “This ship, it’s about to make a jump.”

“What?!” Leta’s voice was shrill and horrified. “With us on it? Cy, stop it, you have to — “

“Stop it?! I can’t even access the basic oxygen recycling functions, let alone navigation!” he cried, one hand digging into his hair as his other flew over the keyboard.

Just then, a cool, calm female voice erupted over the intercom, making them both freeze. Please take your seats and prepare for jump. Please take your seats, and prepare for jump. Please prepare for …

“We need to get out of here,” Leta breathed, pushing away from the wall and grabbing Cyrus’ wrist in one motion. Together they flew into the hallway, which was mercifully empty now.

As they ran, Leta shouted into her COMM, “Fiearius? Fiear, are you there? We need you!”

The speaker crackled, and Fiearius’ voice broke through. “Leta? What’s going on?”

“We’re in the B-deck of the Titan and it’s about to jump out of this system, you need to guide us to one of Quin’s ship’s — “

Fiearius’ voice crumbled in disbelief. “One of Quin’s–but you’re on one of Quin’s ships. They saw your team board the Lagartha, Eve and–’

Cyrus and Leta exchanged a look of naked horror. “Fiearius,” he yelled, “Eve’s not with us!”

“Then where the hell are — ”

But then, Fiearius’ voice began to fade in and out, dissolving into crackling, hot static. Leta kept calling his name desperately into the COMM, but Cyrus felt himself going numb, enveloped by shock: around them, the dark metal walls of the ship gave a warm rumble, the floor seemed to jut out below them, and bright starlight streaked in long, horizontal lines past the nearest window. In one second, Fiearius and the Dionysian and Quin’s ships had become galaxies away.

“Cute, real cute, now can we focus?” said Eve, coming to a stop so sharply that Cyrus nearly staggered into her. It was obvious why Eve was joining he and Leta; she was the muscle and weapon. Her favorite assault rifle was clutched readily in her hands. “Cap’n, where to?” she said to the piece in her ear, and seconds later, Fiearius’ voice filled the line.

“Command center is around that corner. To the left. It’ll be — ”

But then, Fiearius’ words were drowned out by a thunderous, rumbling of metal, like the Titan had fired off one of its cannons.

“What was that?” said Leta.

“Don’t worry about it. Just get to the command center, alright?”

“That’s reassuring,” said Leta dryly, dropping her hand from her ear and crossing forward quickly. “C’mon, this way.”

Cyrus followed Leta as she rounded the corner toward the command center entrance, but they didn’t find the deserted hallway he’d been hoping for. Instead — his eyes widened — it was a growing firefight. Down the hallway, Society agents ducked down against the walls as Quin’s people (considerably less organized) stormed down the stairs, gunfire zinging around them …

For a full ten seconds Cyrus was paralyzed — until he felt Leta steer him towards a console in the wall. “Cy, get the door open!”

“Wh — right, on it,” said Cyrus quickly, stepping toward the screen and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. In his peripheral, he felt Leta keeping watch over their corner of the hallway, her gun in her hand at her side. Meanwhile, Eve was stalking up and down the corridor, rifle at the ready, like an extremely protective watchdog.

“Snap to it, would ya?” she grunted as his fingers flew over the screen. “This fight’s gettin’ closer.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Can ya work faster? Don’t reckon the captain would appreciate anything happenin’ to either of you.”

At last, with a rush of air, the doors to the command room glided open. Cyrus hurried inside, his companions on his heels, and quickly closed the doors behind them — they were barricaded in safely. For now.

“Leta, watch those security screens,” he ordered, moving toward the main row of consoles. “Make sure no one’s coming this way.”

“And what about me?” said Eve curiously, like Cyrus was telling her what to bring to the family picnic. Then she added helpfully, “Your brother usually has me on headshot duty. Y’know, keep people from comin’ up behind him and shooting him in the head.”

“Well … do that,” Cyrus said blankly. “Yeah, keep doing that.”

Then he quickly started tapping away at the screen of the main console. This should be easy, he thought to himself. Just a few minutes. There was always a very simple trick to Society systems that made them practically childsplay to override. All he had to do was type in that and hit this and–

But where he expected to see the full access control screen, he instead saw an error. He started to try again when Leta caught his attention.

“Hang on, someone’s coming — “ said Leta, and when Cyrus looked up in alarm, she added, “Wait, it’s Dez,” with an expression of relief and confusion on her face. Frowning, she hit the controls to open the doors.

In marched Dez, like a determined soldier. His face was hardened with seriousness as he said, “What’s going on? Have you accessed the ship yet?”

“No, it’s–” Cyrus began in frustration, but shook his head. He didn’t have time to explain this. “They’ve caught on and closed the backdoor I use. I’ll have to find another.”

“How’s it going out there?” Leta asked, but Dez clenched his jaw grimly.

“Badly. It’s a bloodbath. My team’s pinned down. We’re losing ground and quickly. Haven’t you been getting my COMM messages? I’ve been calling for back-up for the last ten minutes.”

Fleetingly, Cyrus glanced at the COMM piece in Leta’s ear. Its usual green glow had switched to red. “This room’s too sealed, must be blocking our signals.”

“Sorry, Dez, couldn’t help ya anyway,” said Eve, shouldering her rifle. “Cap’n specifically told me not to leave these two. Have to find help elsewhere.”

“The captain ordered that before we started losing,” Dez grunted.

Eve pursed her lips. “Dez, I like ya, but I don’t take orders from anyone but Fiearius.”

“Time is running out, Harper,” Dez barked coldly, stepping toward the door. “We’re dropping like flies, and you’re doing nothing in here?”

“Go,” said Leta suddenly, to Cyrus’ surprise. “Eve, you should go. We can handle ourselves here. We’ll catch up to you, okay?”

Eve hesitated. “Adler, the captain told me personally to watch you real close — ”

“I’m sure he did.” Leta smiled. “But go. I promise, we’ll be fine.”

At last, she clenched her jaw and nodded.

Dez snorted his approval. “See, they’ll be fine, let’s go.” He headed for the door and Eve reluctantly followed, her eyes trailing back on Leta and Cyrus as she entered the hallway and disappeared.

As Leta crossed the room to seal the door again, Cyrus couldn’t help but mutter, “Hope we can keep that promise.”

———–

This was not how this was supposed to go.

This many ships on their side, their army of people, it should have been enough. Mathematically, it should have been enough to take on the crew of the Titan. They had done this so many times before now. They were good at it. They should have been winning this. Easily.

Fiearius knotted his fingers in his hair, clenching his eyes shut as he stalked around the Dionysian’s bridge. Why was everything going so wrong? He felt like he was ready to snap in half, and it didn’t help when Dez’s voice came through the speakers.

“They’ve cut off access to the bay. We can’t get through.”

Fiearius groaned. “Double back to the C5 corridor, there’s another entrance.”

“Send ‘em back our way!” shouted Rax, his voice nearly drowned out by gunfire. “We’re getting slaughtered over here. Four men down, ten injured from that proximity blast.”

Fiearius lowered his hand from his hair, trying to absorb this news while fighting the urge to kick over the captain’s chair.

Finn lowered his beer glass to the counter. “Of course.”

Fiearius was staring over the bar, gazing at the row of bottles though Finn was sure he wasn’t seeing them at all. “I–after Satieri, y’know, when I came back, I was pretty…well, fucked up.”

“You mean when you were talking to yourself and wouldn’t get out of bed?” said FInn brightly. “Yeah, I recall.”

“It was bad. Real bad,” Fiearius admitted. “It was like…I could feel my consciousness drifting away anytime I wasn’t clinging onto it. Which was bad enough, but then Daelen showed up and said I wasn’t going to walk again and–” He put his forehead in his hand and shook his head. “I was just losing it, y’know?”

“You got low,” Finn agreed.

“Worse than low,” Fiearius groaned. “Do you–you’ve heard of Flush right?”

Finn absorbed the sudden, odd question quickly and invisibly. “That shit Society agents used to run on? Yeah, it was in all the best back rooms on Archeti.” He grinned. “Too expensive for me, though.”

“Well. I have a source.” He turned his gaze on him, and it was then Finn noticed how bloodshot his eyes were. “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought–I was in a pit and I didn’t think I could ever get out of it. But Flush was–I don’t know, it looked like a rope so I grabbed it.”

Finn couldn’t mask his shock. He had no idea, and he considered himself an excellent judge of people. “You’re using now?” he demanded in disbelief.

Fiearius closed his eyes, a portrait of guilt. “It’s not like I want to,” he breathed. “But it helped! It really did. I don’t think I could have gotten better without the stuff. It was the only option I had. Now though?” He sunk again. “I don’t need it anymore. I’m better. But–I can’t kick it.”

“You’ve been trying to quit?”

“For over a month,” Fiearius admitted. “I can make it about four days before it starts to feel like my insides are trying to wring themselves out. I made it five last week and I was coughing up blood for a straight hour before I gave in.” Digging his hands into his hair, Fiearius shook his head. “It’s what they always say with Flush. Either the drug itself slowly kills you…”

“Or the withdrawals will,” Finn finished. “Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“I managed it before. But that was–well, it was hell as it was then and I’m not nearly that young anymore. This time, I–I just honestly don’t know if I even can do this.”

Finn paused, and then said slowly, “I take it Leta doesn’t know.”

Fiearius cast him a hopeless glance. “Would I be here if she did?”

“And you don’t plan to tell her.”

“I almost did. A few times. But–I couldn’t. Gods, she would never forgive me. She’ll just see it as a betrayal. Not only am I taking a potentially fatal drug she certainly wouldn’t approve of, I took it because her treatment wasn’t working. After everything she did. I can’t tell her. I can’t.”

Finn lapsed into a stunned silence. Of course Fiearius couldn’t tell Leta, but of course he should have; she was a doctor. But Finn wasn’t going to be the one to tell Fiearius to confess to his girlfriend that he’d been lying for six months.

“But you need off of it,” Finn finished. “And here’s the thing: she’s going to find out eventually.”

“I know. Trust me, I know. Either I tell her now or when she finds me expelling my internal organs into a rubbish bin, I know. The results will be the same regardless. I guess I’m just trying to delay the inevitable…”

“And you need off it,” Finn reminded sharply. “And you can’t ask your doctor-lady for help. So what about Daelen? Talk to him.”

“Daelen? Sure, can’t talk to Leta, talk to her longtime friend instead.”

“He’d keep it quiet, mate. He wouldn’t tell Leta. He takes confidentiality seriously.”

“Maybe he would, but then she’ll think he’s betrayed her too,” Fiearius argued. “I won’t put the guy in that position. It’s not his problem.”

“Well you need off this drug. And apparently quitting cold turkey isn’t going to work.” Finn looked him up and down in concern. “So what’re ya gonna do?”

“Honestly?” Fiearius looked over at him, hopelessness in every facet of his expression. “I have no idea.”

————

Hours after they’d left the Dionysian, when Cyrus and Addy were slowly wandering back to the ship docks, it was hard to believe Cyrus had ever been nervous at all. He was no expert on what constituted a ‘good’ date, but the way she had shared in his excitement as they perused the science museum, the way she had humored his stupid jokes over dinner, and particularly the way she strolled beside him now, so close that their arms brushed against each other every other step — well, those couldn’t be bad signs, could they?

Currently, he was listening with interest as she relayed to him a tale from years past.

“So I was only an assistant at the time, but even as an assistant, I was supposed to have some say in the repairs. But the whole team just thought ‘oh she’s the boss’ daughter, she’s only here to appease him, she must not know anything.’” She rolled her eyes. “And go figure, they ignored my suggestion and used the TXC sealant and what happened?”

“The water line exploded,” Cyrus guessed.

“The water line exploded!” Addy said, shaking her head. “If only they’d listened to little old me.”

Cyrus laughed. “You’ve basically just described my entire university experience.”

For some reason, Addy’s smile faded slightly. “Oh yeah?”

“I guess it was since I was younger than most everyone there, but any group project? Same story. Though I guess that’s kind of inevitable when you get five undergrad egos in a room together, huh?”

“Oh, I bet,” she said agreeably, but there was no denying it — she definitely lost her smile this time, she had definitely shifted her gaze away. Had he said something wrong? But how could he have upset her? The evening air was warm, with a pleasant breeze; the sea of stars overhead were bright white; they were entirely alone, walking down the docks along a row of darkened ships.

But before he could venture a guess, Addy suddenly said, in a rush of a confession, “I actually never went to university.”

“What?” said Cyrus at once, confused. Together, they came to a stop beneath the Beacon. Addy hovered next to one of the ship pillars, massaging her neck in embarrassment.

“I didn’t want to tell you because, well, it’s humiliating. That you finished grad school when you were freakin’ 21 and here’s me — no actual education, working in my dad’s workshop — ” She caught her hand around her neck and stared at him with wide, startled grey eyes.

Cyrus was stunned — not that she hadn’t gone to school, but that he had the power to make anyone, let alone Addy, feel self-conscious. She was searching over his face as if scared he was about to insult her, and he quickly began shaking his head.

“You really–I can’t–but you’re so amazing!” he sputtered in disbelief. Addy looked skeptical. “I can’t believe you’ve never had formal training. I mean, the things you’ve done with the Beacon, they’re incredible. You may have never studied engineering, but you’re amazing at it.”

“Without a degree,” Addy argued dully, “I’m really just a mechanic.”

Cyrus scoffed. “No. No no no, you are not a mechanic. Trust me, I’ve worked with some of the more renowned engineers in the field and you.” He smiled at her and took one of her hands in his. “You are one of the best engineers I’ve ever met.”

Addy let out a laugh, a genuine, ringing laugh. “You’re just saying that because we’re on a date and you have to flatter me.” She took his hand and swung it playfully to the side.

“No way,” Cyrus laughed. “If I was trying to flatter you, I’d say you’re the most beautiful engineer I’ve ever met. But that’s not the truth.” She raised her brows at him in interest. “The truth is, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

She shook her head, adopting an air of disbelief. “Now I know you’re trying to flatter me.”

“Believe what you want, I know what’s real,” he said with a shrug, and it was then that Addy tightened her hold on his hand and stepped closer, gently closing the distance between them.

Cyrus felt his insides clench with nerves. But when Addy’s expression softened with affection, her fingers hooked around his shirt collar and her lips brushed against his in a soft, warm kiss, he realized this wasn’t difficult or awkward at all. His eyes fell closed and he thought that this, somehow, felt impossibly natural.

Quietly, Addy said, “I had a really good time tonight,” and he could feel her smiling against his lips. He also feel himself turning red, so all he said was, “Me, too,” before leaning into their kiss. She responded in turn, gently leading him backwards until her back met the ship’s wall. Her hand tightened around his arm, his hands slid down to her hips and just as passion surged through their embrace, Cyrus felt an instinct that made him draw back an inch.

“We should–shouldn’t we take this–y’know, slow?” he breathed, forcing himself to drag his gaze away from those incredibly tempting lips.

“Oh, right, yes.” Addy nodded once in agreement, her breath short and her face flushed. “Slow. Slow is good.”

Cyrus paused for a moment longer before he couldn’t help but blurt out, “But a little more couldn’t hurt, right?”

A shy grin spread across her face. “I doubt it,” she said quickly, wrapping her forearm around his neck as he leaned in to deepen their kiss.

“Are you okay?” said Addy, laughing as she approached and crouched down to help him.

“Yeah, yeah, totally fine,” he said, despite the fact that his foot was throbbing in his boot. “Are you okay?” he asked without thinking, wincing as he lifted the box with his arms and discarded it back onto the pile.

Addy laughed again. “I’m a little jet-lagged, but I’m okay.”

Luckily, it was then that Fiearius and Corra purposely moved away, leaving them alone, or as alone as they could be at the base of the bustling cargo bay.

“That’s good,” he said blankly, brushing his dirt-streaked palms together. “The okay part I mean. Not the jet-lag, that’s bad. I didn’t mean–” Abruptly, he cut himself off because he was babbling like an idiot. He could talk to her just fine over the COMM, why was he so terribly bad at talking to her face to face?

Just pretend it’s like before, he told himself and finally managed to sound at least a little normal when he asked, “So are you here long?”

“Actually, I’m not sure. Corra just decided at the last minute that we should come here.”

So probably not long then, Cyrus realized, his heart sinking slightly. Then this might be his only chance. He’d been kicking himself for not having the guts to ask her out the last time the Beacon had been around and that was well over a month ago. Wasn’t the last month supposed to teach him something? If he could help bring down Society bases and strongholds and ships? Surely he could ask Adrasteia Atelier for a date.

So before he even had the opportunity to second guess himself, before he could talk himself out of it, he decided to have courage. “Well since you’re here, how about that dinner I promised?” he asked suddenly and then added, “I mean, unless you have plans already.” A little courage anyway.

Addy’s smile softened, but not out of any sort of displeasure. “No. I don’t have plans.”

Relief flooded through him at once. “Yeah?” he asked, failing to mask his excitement. “That’s–well, great. Then–” But then the familiar dread of panic came back. He had no idea where to go. He didn’t know this planet at all. He barely even knew which planet they were on.

“I–I didn’t know you were coming,” he told her hastily, “So I didn’t have time to really plan or do any research on what’s around here or what’s good or–”

“That’s okay!” said Addy, waving him off. She supplied him another smile that made his heart flip over in his chest. “Let’s just go exploring, how about that?”

———————–

Corra had never imagined that she might actually be nervous to talk to Leta. Nervous? To talk to her best friend? It was nonsense. But as she approached the infirmary, nervous was exactly what she felt. For the moment, Leta stood at the counter, scrolling through a console screen, her brow furrowed with concentration. Corra hovered in the doorway, and for a few seconds, Leta had no idea she had a visitor.

Corra swallowed her nerves. It was true: things between them hadn’t been the same recently. The Beacon and the Dionysian had very effectively gone their separate ways and Leta had become more than just physically distant because of it. It was easy to guess why. She probably saw the Beacon’s lack of assistance as being unfaithful in spite of their actual logic behind the decision. Corra could only hope that this impromptu visit might serve to mend things a little.

Fighting back her nerves, it was with her usual cheerful enthusiasm that Corra said, “Whatcha workin’ on, Doctor Adler?”

At once, Leta dropped her hand from the screen and turned around, shocked. “Corra? What’re you doing here?” But it wasn’t an unpleasant shock in her face

Without waiting for an invitation, Corra lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Leta. “I missed you,” she declared, squeezing her head against her chest before she was unable to stop herself from looking up at her and begging, “Please stop hating me.”

“You — what?” Leta let out an uncertain laugh, pressing her chin over Corra’s shoulder. “Hate you? I don’t — “

“You do, I can tell you do,” Corra insisted, releasing her and taking a step back. “You never call me anymore and when I call you, you always sound like you’d rather be doing something else and you never tell me what you’re up to and I know it’s because we’re not helping you fight the Society, I know, but please don’t hate me for it, please.”

“Corra, I don’t hate you. Of course I don’t. We’ve just had a really crazy few weeks around here. All these raids.” She smiled sadly. “I swear I’m not ignoring you.”

Corra felt her panic subside a little. But all she managed was, “Really?”

“Of course really!”

“So you’re…not mad that we’re not helping out?”

Leta heaved a sigh. “It sucks, but I understand. And I’m not ignoring you, there’s just — a lot going on. And on top of it all, Fiear’s been really sick lately.”

Leta leaned back against the counter, folding her arms. Across from her, Corra sat on the edge of an exam bench, dangling her feet toward the floor, and they both settled into the normal rhythms of their long talks.

“I thought Fiear looked a little under the weather,” Corra muttered. “What’s the matter with him?”

“He’s had the flu off and on for a month. And he’s exhausted. It could be stress, honestly, with all of these raids … “

“Could be,” Corra agreed. “He’s not really known for taking the best care of himself.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, though. It’ll pass eventually,” Corra assured her. “And if it doesn’t and you get sick of him coughing on you, you’re still welcome on the Beacon y’know,” she added cheerfully. “Daelen’s a good doctor and all, but Finn has this bad habit of getting beat up so we could probably use another.”

Leta smiled thinly. “I’ll keep the offer in mind. Hey — how are things with Finn, anyway? Do you two get along okay?”

“Turns out we make a pretty good team,” Corra told her, grinning. “He does all the charming and I do all the shooting.” She formed her fingers into a gun shape and pretended to fire it, making Leta laugh. “Works out great.”

“So you’re like, friends now?” Leta looked amused. “I thought you used to hate him.”

“I never hated him,” she defended. “Just didn’t like him. I mean, he’s still cocky and arrogant and annoying, but after spending all this time with him, I guess I just ‘get him’ more, y’know? He’s an alright guy deep down.”

“Well, that’s good.” Leta paused, and suddenly her expression shifted with sudden amusement. Or maybe it was disgust.

“Hang on. You’re not like — you two, you and Finn, you’re not — you’re not — “

“What?!” Corra cried laughing incredulously and internally wondering if she had done something to hint at the more intimate side of her relationship with her co-captain or if Leta just knew her too well. “Of course not!” And with a sly smirk, she added, “I know better than to get involved with a captain.”

“Fair enough,” said Leta, but she still look unconvinced. “I just happened to hear that you two happened to get a little close before…”

Corra groaned. “Is Niki still telling people about that? I’m gonna kill that kid.” She shook the thought from her head and met Leta’s stare squarely. “Yes, we made out that one time on Paraven, no, it wasn’t a big deal, okay?”

Leta laughed and shrugged. “Alright, alright. It’s just not fair, you know everything about my love life and lately you’ve told me next to nothing about yours.”

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” Corra lied. “Trust me, you’d be the first to know.”

————

“So after we got the ship back,” Finn was saying, taking a pull from his beer and then lowering the glass to the bar counter, “Corra just goes up to the guy. And I think he was expecting her to just shout at him or I don’t know what, but she goes up to him, just lifts her fist and decks him across the face.”

Fiearius laughed. “Sounds like our princess alright. She’s something, that girl.” He tilted his beer towards his lips.

“Got that right.” Finn snorted, letting his gaze wander around the crowded pub. It’d been months since he’d sat down for a beer with someone for anything but business reasons. While Corra was running her ‘personal errand,’ Finn had quickly taken the opportunity to spend a few hours with his own friend.

But unless Finn was very much mistaken (he was sure he wasn’t), Fiearius was not completely at ease this evening, even as they ordered another round and relaxed at the bar. Finn glanced sideways at him. “So that about catches you up on our exciting adventures,” he mused. “What’s going on with you? Besides attacking the Society. How’re things with the lady?”

Fiearius’ expression flickered. “Good,” he said at last. “They’re good. Things are good.”

“Oh yeah? Really?” Finn lifted a brow expectantly, but Fiearius averted his eyes.

“No. No, she’s great. Things are great.”

Finn waited a beat, simply letting the happy chatter of the bar fill in for him. Then, Fiearius said abruptly, “Can I tell you something? Something you won’t repeat to anyone else.”

For a moment, he simply squinted at her through the steam. Then he said, “You alright?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“You didn’t get hurt or something on the raid, did you?”

“No, I’m okay.”

His face was still darkened with concern, however, so Leta stepped closer, raised herself to tip-toe and brushed her lips against his softly. It was only then she felt him relax, and then Leta nodded her head toward the shower playfully. “You look awful. Don’t suppose you want to get in there with me?”

Fiearius cracked a lopsided smirk. “Well, if you insist.”

When they emerged a half-hour later, Leta felt better — decidedly better. Lighter. She even snorted a laugh when Fiearius shook his hand in his hair and sent water spraying all over the bathroom like a wet dog.

But still, when she was wrapping a towel around her middle, she couldn’t help but ask suddenly, “We can trust Quin, right? With helping us?”

“Quin?” Fiearius repeated. “Yeah, of course.” He vigorously rubbed a towel over his head, making his hair stick up at all angles.

“She just seems so … bloodthirsty. I want revenge, Fiearius, but I won’t hurt innocent people.”

“I know that.” He threw the towel to the floor and shrugged. “She’s a little excitable, but not bloodthirsty. More…power-hungry. But she’ll listen. Those agents will get home safely.”

“They better.” Leta frowned. “You two have known each other for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Few years, yeah. I was stuck working with a bunch of Archetian shitheads at the time, which was getting me nowhere, so I forced a job out of her instead.”

“Forced?”

“Well, she refused to see me the first nine times I dropped by looking for work.” He grinned proudly. “So the tenth time, I busted into her most secure warehouse, neutralized half her staff, stole the most valuable crate in the whole place and then brought it back to her the next day.”

“And that worked?”

“Not exactly. Her second, Aeneas, tied me to a chair and very nearly killed me, but it did get her attention. And her respect. We came up with a pretty good deal and she’s been my most reliable associate ever since. Best work, consistent pay, good trust. We like working together.”

“And sleeping together,” Leta prompted. Fiearius stared at her, stunned, and Leta went on quickly, “Right? The first time I visited Archeti on the Dionysian, you told Cyrus you were sleeping with her.”

Fiearius’ expression shifted with alarm. “Leta, I haven’t — ” He took a step closer. “Yeah, okay, we used to, but not since–” He gestured between the two of them. “Us. Is that what this is about? Because I haven’t. You seriously think I’d–”

“No. No, I don’t think that. Not really. I’m not accusing you of still sleeping with her.” She took a deep breath, shaking her head. “But something’s going on with you, Fiear. The last few months or so. You’re acting differently.”

Fiearius tilted his head at her. “Differently how? I mean, yeah, I haven’t been feeling that great lately, ‘cause of the cold and all, but–”

“It’s not just that. You’ve barely been sleeping. You’re completely distracted. Something’s been going on with you.”

He regarded her with interest, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not to feel amused. “So you thought I was being unfaithful?”

“No, not exactly.” She paused, and in a worried rush, she said, “But I can read you and you’re hiding something from me so please just tell me what it is.”

Fiearius opened his mouth. She thought he would deny it, but then, to her surprise, he closed his mouth tightly again. The mirth faded from his hazel eyes as he searched her over, and for one moment Leta thought he was about to make a confession.

But then he couldn’t. On the other side of the bathroom door, the console began to beep loudly, and it kept on beeping without pause.

Leta cast Fiearius a look of distress. “That’s Corra, she always calls after we finish raids. Just one second,” she said, hurrying to tighten the towel around her chest. “It’s a video-call, so put some clothes on, would you?” she added over her shoulder.

Fiearius grunted, but reluctantly wrapped a towel around his waist as Leta sat down at the console and without glancing at the screen, accepted the call.

“Corra, hi, sorry, can I — “

But it wasn’t Corra staring back at her on the screen. It was Ren. There was no denying those crooked glasses, soft kind eyes, angular jaw, and now, the look of absolute horror on his face.

“Is this — er– a bad time?” he muttered uneasily, and Leta realized how this looked: half-dressed, with sopping wet hair and a shirtless Fiearius standing behind her. With his bed and shower in full view. Leta actually closed her eyes in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, Ren.” She gritted her teeth, feeling her face burn red. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else calling. Is everything alright?”

“I’ll make it quick,” he promised. Then he spared Fiearius a quick, searching look, and Leta realized this moment — this horrible moment — was the first time he and Fiearius had ever truly met.

For a moment, stiff silence enveloped the room. Then Ren said, “Well, hey there, captain. You, er, look a little different than in the posters.”

“Posters?” said Leta and Fiearius together.

“Oh, you haven’t seen them?” Ren looked bitterly amused. “Ah. Well, they’re the Society’s new preferred form of propaganda. All over the span — photo of your likeness, with the words ‘Beware the Rogue Verdant.”

Fiearius lifted his brow mildly. “Huh. Posters. That’s new.”

“Anyway — I wanted to ask.” He looked back to Leta. “Have you heard anything from Vescent recently? Are you in contact with anyone there?”

Leta shook her head. “Only Daelen, but he fled months ago. So no. I’m not. I’d be putting people there in danger.”

Ren pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, at this point, they may be in more danger than you.”

Leta slid a glance toward Fiearius. “What do you mean?”

“Something strange is happening on Vescent,” said Ren. “I can’t exactly say what, but–it’s odd. After you destroyed Blackwater, the Society’s been sending out agents from all over to fight the Carthians, Vescent included. And the fleet coming out of Vescent is–different. Their strategic behavior doesn’t match anything the rest of the fleets are doing and the prisoners Carthis has taken? They’re just off.

“Off how?”

“The agents off Vescent … their behavior is erratic. And it’s difficult to explain and we’ve no idea why. That’s the worse part. All of the people Carthis has planted in the city have dropped out of contact all of a sudden. You remember my friends from university? They’ve been keeping me updated on the state of things since I got out, but now? Nothing.” Ren furrowed his brow. “No response from any of them.”

Leta pressed her mouth to her hands. “I hope they’re okay.”

“Me too. Anyway, I’m sorry to have bothered you. I was just hoping maybe someone had some information. I’m getting worried. We all knew the Society was growing there, but I think something bigger than even we imagined has happened.”

“I suppose being on the same ship is kind of awkward. But what about your brother and Leta? They make it work, clearly.”

“True, but Leta’s not a captain. If something happened between them, she would probably just leave, as unfortunate as that is, and the awkwardness would pass,” Cyrus pointed out. “But if something happens between both your captains? Then what?”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t seem that bad of an — “

“Awkwardness, Addy,” Cyrus interrupted, his voice menacing. “Think of the awkwardness.”

Addy laughed. “You’d know about that, wouldn’t you?”

“Hey…”

“Oh, I’m kidding.”

“No you’re not,” Cyrus grumbled and then went on, “I don’t know, as long as they’re happy I guess. Just shipboard romances can be weird I think.”

“That’s true.” Addy paused, and then said, “Maybe it’s better to be in a romance on different ships?” in a sly voice that made Cyrus go suddenly red.

“You think so?” he said, flustered. “So is that what–” But before he could finish, a much less welcome voice cut in over the speakers.

“Cy, we’re closing in on the bridge, what’s it looking like?” said Fiearius, his voice crackling through the static.

“–this is?” Cyrus finished lamely, swinging his feet off the console and looking down at the monitor, confused.

“What is?” Fiearius said impatiently.

“Hey is everything o–” Addy began.

“Wait, you’re seriously on the COMM with your girlfriend right now? In the middle of a raid?”

At this point, Cyrus was certainly as red as he was capable of being. “N-no, I–”

“Not as if we have more important things to do or anything,” Fiearius went on.

Cyrus dragged his hand down his face. “Addy, I’ll call you back later.” He hung up the call and added to Fiearius, “You are such an ass.”

“And you are such a bad lookout,” Fiearius countered. “Status report, let’s go.”

Cyrus heaved a troubled sigh. “Alright. There’s only one red dot in the bridge. It’s all yours.”

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

“Relax,” Leta hissed, giving the rope a tough tug. “Don’t move.”

The ship’s captain did as she was told: wide-eyed and fearful, the woman sat trembling against the wall of the bridge as Leta tied her wrists to the pipe above her head.

“Please — ” the captain breathed, “don’t hurt the crew — “

She was so petrified that Leta felt the fleeting impulse to set her free. But the sight of the librera stitched into her jacket stiffened her resolve.

“We won’t,” Leta muttered sharply. “We’re just taking the ship. Now hold still.”

The woman flinched when Leta pulled her long knife out from her hip, but it was only to quickly slice off the rope. It was the same knife she’d stolen from Ophelia, the knife she’d used to stab her in the leg and save her own life. Now, Leta always kept the blade close by, like a talisman. “Guess this is yours now, eh?” Fiearius had said a few nights ago when he’d found it lying on his nightstand in his room. And Leta decided he was right.

Still, she didn’t plan to use it for violence. Holding the knife in her teeth, she quickly tied off the knot then got to her feet and stood back, satisfied.

Behind her, Fiearius was at the helm of the ship, speaking into the communications console to its sister ships. Leta turned around just as Fiearius grunted, “Quin, we’re not dumping them on Eyyam.”

“Why not?” said Quin’s disbelieving voice over the speaker. “You don’t want me shootin’ ‘em, what’s wrong with just leavin’ ‘em someplace? It’s a nice little moon, it’s close by–”

“It’s a barren desert with no civilization save a few remote tribes of junkies,” Fiearius groaned. “It’d be more humane to shoot them at that point.”

“Well then,” Quin concluded simply.

Fiearius rolled his eyes. “We’ll take them back to Archeti, put them on a passenger ship and send them home, simple as that.”

Silence filled the line for a moment before she replied, “You’re damn lucky I like you, sweetheart, that’s all I gotta say.”

“I count my blessings every day,” Fiearius muttered, exchanging a dull look with Leta. Before they could leave, another voice broke out from the third ship over the COMM.

“Soliveré! Did you–have ya seen this ship?! This–I’ve never seen anythin’ like it, it’s–geezus is that a–holy lord above–”

Fiearius threw a hand to his forehead, impatient. “Everything alright, Rax?”

Rax was an arms trader from a backwater planet on the very edge of Synechdan. He wasn’t the brightest ally to have, but he’d cornered the market in a very needy area and he had the manpower to back it up. Plus, when Fiearius had asked if he was interested in joining their raiding party against the Society of all people, he was one of the few who hadn’t laughed in his face.

“Alright?! “ Rax repeated. “God, Soliveré, this is–Have I thanked you for bringing me in on this?”

“You have, Rax,” Fiearius assured him.

“Well I’m doin’ it again, I — “

“Let’s all meet at the rendezvous point in an hour. See you then.” And just as Rax went to answer, Fiearius hit ‘disconnect.’

Just then, Eve came pounding into the room, her rifle angled over her shoulder in a proud march. “We did it, cap’n! Whole ship is ours!”

“Sure is,” said Fiearius, “now let’s get the hell out of here.”

Fiearius crossed toward the door, but not without throwing his forearm in front of his mouth and hacking a terrible cough.

Eve’s face flickered with concern. “You alright, cap’n? You don’t look so hot, you’re all pale and gross-lookin’ — “

“Thanks,” Fiearius muttered dismissively, but Leta lingered in the doorway, blocking him from leaving.

“You’re still feeling ill?” she said in disbelief, searching him over.

“I’m fine. It’s just a cold.”

“Colds usually last a week. You’ve been getting this on and off for over a month.”

“Well it’s a particularly bad cold,” he said, squinting his eyes as he held off another cough. He veered around her into the hallway, but Leta followed on his heels.

“Please just let me do some tests when we get back to the ship,” she pleaded. “Just to see if it’s a virus or — “

Fiearius cast her a dark look. “Thought you decided you weren’t my doctor anymore,” he pointed out. “It’s unethical or something, right?”

“Fiear, let me — “

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, relax,” he said and coughed again just as he was adding, “I’m fine. It’ll pass.”

“She could be right, Fiearius,” put in Dez suddenly from across the hallway. “It seems to be getting worse again. Perhaps you should take something for it.”

Fiearius glared at him and then said, “Dez, fly the ship to the rendezvous. Harper, keep an eye on our guests.” He gestured to the captain and the other Society agents locked on the lower deck. To Leta, he said, “Stop worrying about me. I promise you. I’ll be fine.”

– – – – – –

Hours later, after they’d all successfully returned to the Dionysian, the crew began to riotously celebrate. They’d gained another victory against the Society, after all, so laughter, music and the clanking of liquor bottles filled the crew lounge in a happy din.

But Leta didn’t feel like celebrating. Something — and she wasn’t sure what — was  quietly nagging at her. So she’d finished only half a bottle of beer before retreating up to Fiearius’ bedroom and closing the bathroom door behind her to take a hot shower.

The water was on, making clouds of steam fill the room, when there was a low knock on the door. Leta was wrapped only in a towel, but she knew it was Fiearius and was unsurprised when he slipped his lanky frame inside, gently closing the door behind him.

Early the next morning, Fiearius did not hesitate. Quietly as he could, he slid his arms away from Leta’s sleeping figure and dressed quickly in the dark. Seconds later, he was descending the staircase to the lowest deck, his feet pounding down the metal steps. Even at this early hour, he guessed the observation deck would not be empty, and sure enough …

Dez was in upon the bench facing the great black window, reading a book. Fiearius approached, dropped his hand into his pocket and tossed the bottle of pills into his lap.

“Here,” he said abruptly. “I’m not taking these anymore. You can keep ‘em.”

He turned on his heel to leave but Dez spoke up, sounding curious.

“Can I ask why?”

Fiearius turned back, frowning. There was a multitude of reasons to refuse Flush, especially after last night. The burn of Leta’s green eyes flashed through his mind.

But all he said was, “Because I don’t need it anymore. My legs are fully healed.”

“Do you not remember the last time you went cold turkey?”

He meant the withdrawals. Of course Fiearius remembered. He’d been bedridden in excruciating pain for nearly a month. Aela had been forced to restrain him to keep him from injuring himself. Flush on its own hit hard and he’d seen first hand that its withdrawal hit harder.

But that didn’t change his decision.

“Thanks for the concern, but I’ll manage,” he said briskly as he moved toward the door. He’d have to manage. And hope to the gods it wouldn’t be so agonizing this time.

“Perhaps,” Dez mused with a shrug. “What about today?”

For the second time, Fiearius froze on the edge of the doorway. “What about today?”

“Will you manage today?” Dez asked as though it were the most mundane question in the Span. When Fiearius said nothing, he went on, “I cared for him too. Whether you’d like to believe that or not.”

Fiearius slowly turned around, shocked. But of course, Dez had been a part of Denarian’s life. A most unlikely babysitter, but the kid had been fond of him. It was something Fiearius had long forgotten. He had a hard enough time holding onto his own memories of Denarian, let alone memories of Denarian and a very different Desophyles than the one that stood before him now.

“For what little it’s worth, I’m sorry for what happened to him,” Dez continued as Fiearius fixed his stare on him. “I’m not sure I ever had the chance to say it. But I’m sorry. He was a good person. He didn’t deserve such a cruel fate.”

Fiearius moved his eyes past Dez. He couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze. “No,” was all he managed. “No he didn’t.”

“I won’t soon forget the day I first met him. Barely three days old. Tiny and fragile and a funny shade of pink.” Dez frowned. “He then proceeded to piss on me.”

At that, Fiearius couldn’t hold back a pained laugh. “He always was a good judge of character.”

“Especially for someone so very small,” Dez agreed.

“D’ya remember Architan?” Fiearius asked suddenly.

“Was that the vile monkey toy you bought him? That made the screeching noise?”

“That’s the one. Y’know he only liked that stupid monkey because you told him you hated it so much.”

Dez raised his brows with interest. “Like father like son I suppose.”

Fiearius shrugged a shoulder, feeling his spirits lighten. He’d never been able to speak to anyone about Denarian quite like this. Not since he’d passed. No one on the Dionysian had ever known him. They weren’t a part of that chapter of his life and today of all days, there was something incredibly relieving to be found in the company of someone who had been.

But as relieved as he may have been, the seed of doubt started to sprout when Dez asked, “Have you decided what you intend to do next?”

Fiearius’ jaw tightened. “I have,” was all he said.

“And?”

But before Fiearius would give him the benefit of an answer, he had to know. He stepped forward, full of steel.

“First, tell me why. Why you want to–I don’t know, what are you trying to do? Get supporters? Start a rebellion against the Society or something? Why?”

Dez lowered the book in his lap and sat up straighter. “You of all people, who would have his son by his side today were it not for the Society, have to ask me that?”

Anger struck him, but Fiearius’ voice was even when he said, “You don’t want a rebellion for my son.”

“Not only for your son, no,” said Dez. “But you weren’t the only one to lose someone to the Society.”

At that, Fiearius bit the inside of his mouth and went coldly quiet.

It was too easy to forget about Dez’s family. They too had paid debts to the Society in blood. Dez had four brothers. Two of them had been killed in action as Internal Affairs agents. A third had been taken out by one of their Internal coworkers for accidentally leaking information. As far as Fiearius knew, only Dez’s youngest sibling and his mother survived.

But it still didn’t add up. “You were the most loyal agent out there for years,” said Fiearius sharply. “Since you joined. Through all the deaths. What changed?”

“I was shown the right path,” said Dez simply.

Fiearius groaned and put his hand over his eyes. “Oh not this again. So that’s the answer? The dov’ha told you to do it?”

“Just because you’ve strayed from your faith doesn’t mean you should insult mine.”

“Didn’t have much faith to stray from,” Fiearius muttered, but Dez had already went on.

“The dov’ha told me nothing, but they made clear to me the path that we are on. The path we have always been on. When I saw you under the effects of the ARC treatment, I understood. All the lives that we have taken, the deaths we have claimed, the deaths we have caused. Don’t you see? Everything has lead us to this moment. Losing Denarian, losing my brothers, losing our power, it was all inevitable. And now is our moment to mend what we have broken.”

“So it’s vengeance,” Fiearius said bluntly. “You could just say you want vengeance, y’know.”

“It’s more than vengeance, Fiearius. It’s justice. It’s our divine calling. You can try to swerve away from the path as much as you like, but you’ll always come back to it. You’ll complete the circle eventually.”

Fiearius just shook his head. “Good to know you’re still nuts. At least some things never change,” he muttered. “But I’m not looking to overthrow anything. Nor am I going to ‘rally’ anybody. Or start anything. And it’s sure as hell not any circle. But.” He took a deep breath. “I have decided we’ll be moving forward with this attacking the Society thing.” At Dez’s satisfied smirk, he snapped, “But only because we have no other choice.”

“Of course,” Dez admitted, his tone laced with innocence. “Whatever lie you need to tell yourself to complete the dov’ha’s will. However. If you intend to continue on this path, you’ll need this back.”

He stood up and held out the small pill bottle.

“No,” Fiearius said simply. “No, I really won’t.”

“You’re better on it Fiearius and you know it. You’ll be at a disadvantage if you’re not.”

“No. I won’t.”

“If you don’t take it, you won’t have the focus to complete this.”

“Don’t care.”

He thrust it at him again. “You must take it, Fiearius.” But Fiearius knocked it out of his hand. As the bottle fell to the floor with a clatter, Dez observed him skeptically.

And then, his voice colder than ice, he asked, “It’s because of her isn’t it?”

Fiearius’ body went very still. “Excuse me?” he asked, daring him to go on.

Dez leveled him a steady, knowing stare. “It’s because of the girl. Your little mistake. You’re afraid it’ll upset her.”

Fiearius took a step closer to him. “If I were you,” he growled, “I’d watch what I–”

“She’s leading you in the wrong direction, Fiearius. She’s weak. She can’t do what needs to be done. You and I are on this path because we’re prepared for it. She is not. She will slow you down and trip you up again and again.”

“She’s not weak,” Fiearius spat, his fist twitching at his side. A few more words and Fiearius knew it would have been his job to plant it in Dez’s face. “Why don’t you just–”

“She’s drawn you in with empty promises of love and affection, but if she truly knew you, she would leave in a heartbeat. You keep yourself from her and you know it. You hide your darker edges,” he gestured towards the Flush on the floor, “because you know she’d turn her back on you if she knew.”

With a growl, Fiearius stepped forward and seized Dez’s collar, tugging him towards him. “You best mind your words, Dez — ”

“Yes,” Dez agreed, unphased by the physical contact. “And you best mind your nature.”

With another growl, Fiearius released him and pushed him away. He could think of nothing left to do but turn on his heel and stalk from the room, his mind racing.

He lowered his hand from his hair and sighed, a long exhale of breath. Then he said, to her shock, “You know about Denarian, don’t you? My son?”

Leta blinked her eyes slowly, as if in a dream. Yes, she knew about Fiearius’ lost son — because Cyrus had let it drunkenly slip months ago. But she’d never once spoken about this with Fiearius. He’d never approached the topic and she had no desire to bring him to face it.

She felt too startled to speak, so Fiearius went on, “Remember a couple weeks ago, when Corra made that joke about the two of us having a litter of children one day? But then said she couldn’t imagine me ever raising a kid?” Leta felt herself nod. “The way you looked at me then…I just assumed you knew. So. Cyrus told you?”

Well, she couldn’t outright lie to him.

“He did tell me. I’m really sorry, Fiear, I should have told you I knew but it didn’t feel right. He told me months ago. When I first came aboard … when I barely knew you.”

Fiearius shook his head. “It’s fine. It’s probably easier this way anyhow. The thought of having to bring it up cold after all this time is…considerably worse.”

He slowly lowered to the edge of the bed, resting his forearms on his thighs. He scrunched his forehead and went on, “But for the record, sorry on my part too. For not telling you myself. It’s–it’s not always that easy to talk about.”

Leta stepped forward and tentatively joined him on the edge of the bed, facing him as he stared at the floor. “I figured you had your reasons,” she said, watching as Fiearius dropped his forehead into his hand.

“I put a lot of effort into not focusing on the day — the day he died. The day that everything went to hell. It comes and goes each year and I don’t let it bog me down. I can’t or…” He swallowed with difficulty. “But this day. Today. Today I just can’t seem to let go.”

Leta felt almost too scared to ask. “Why?”

“He would have been nine today.”

Leta felt her lungs tighten. Then, all at once, a tidal wave of sorrow plunged through her. Grief — that’s what this was. Fiearius was grieving. Over his son. On his birthday. That’s why he’d been so off tonight, quietly unsettled, agitated and distant. He simply missed his child.

Leta opened her mouth, then closed it again, as she slid her hand up his back and held onto his shoulder. He must have read the questioning in her eyes, because he said —

“He was shot,” he said suddenly, looking up at her with a deadened gaze. “That’s what you were wondering right? How he died? I once told you the reason I became the Verdant. Because they gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse?” He looked away. “He was the offer. Him and Aela.” A heavy, shaky sigh passed his lips. “Though in the end it didn’t work out anyway…”

Leta focused on pushing air out of her lungs — it was suddenly very difficult.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, her breath catching hotly in her throat as her eyes dropped to the floor, almost unwilling to look at him for a moment. “I’m so sorry.”

She leaned into him, dropping her lips against his shoulder. Fiearius seemed grateful to bury his face in her hair and when he spoke again, it was quiet, muffled and starting to crack with real, raw pain.

“I don’t deserve ‘sorry.’ It’s my fault.”

“That’s not true,” said Leta in his ear. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

“Can’t I? I brought a child into a dangerous situation, he was my responsibility that I took and I failed to protect him. Because I was overconfident and stubborn. Because I refused to listen. Because I didn’t do what needed to be done until it was too late.”

Leta drew back, her hands on his shoulders. She locked her gaze with him and saw that his eyes were bloodshot and blurring.

“Fiearius, no. How could you have known what would happen? If anyone’s to blame it’s the Society. They used him against you.”

“The Society may have pulled the trigger,” he breathed, “but I loaded the gun.”

Then he dropped his chin to his chest, his voice choking. “He was a good kid. A great kid.” She could hear the tears thickening his voice. “I mean, he was a nightmare. Of course. How could my son not be? But still great.”

Finally he looked up, straight at the ceiling. “I just wanted him to have a normal life, y’know? As normal as he could anyway. He liked swings and spaceships and cake, just regular kid stuff. He may have had my destructive energy, but he had Aela’s charm. And brains. She taught him to read before he even started school. He was smart. Gifted, she said. He could’ve gone on to so many better things.” He was shaking his head and barely holding it together now. “But I fucked it up. She kept telling me we needed to leave, move away from Paradiex, but I didn’t want to. I was too selfish. Too power-hungry. And Denarian paid for my sins.”

Leta took his hands and held them in her lap. He drew in a shaky breath and lifted his eyes back to hers. “You would’ve liked him, I think. Never met anyone who didn’t. And he would’ve been fascinated by you. Anyone from another planet and he was just full of questions.”

“I’m sure I would’ve liked him,” said Leta, her voice hovering somewhere between fondness and incredible sorrow. “And I know you were a good father.” Even saying the words was enough to make her throat swell for a moment, a knife through her chest.

Fiearius inhaled another trembling breath. “Sorry to dump all this on you.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I just — miss him. He was everything to me. That life with him that’s so distant and so unfamiliar it hardly even feels like mine anymore…it was everything.”

“Then I think it’s good to talk about him. To remember him. As often as you need to. And when we bite back against the Society … we can do it for him. So what happened to him will never happen again to anyone else.”

“Yeah,” Fiearius agreed, taking in deep breaths and finally managing to get them even.  “Yeah. You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, then released. “I’m okay. It’s okay.” He looked down at their hands laced together and gripped hers tighter. “We’ll do it for Denarian.”

Leta bit down on her bottom lip. “And listen, I know nothing can replace him, ever  — ever… But — I still think you should remember, that you’re surrounded by people — Suddenly, she locked on her gaze on his, her eyes shining with vulnerability and honesty, “people who love you.”

The words tumbled out before she could stop them, but she did not take them back. She went still, paralyzed with the realization of what she’d just confessed.

Fiearius blinked his eyes slowly and then — she couldn’t believe it — the smallest of teasing grins flickered past his mouth. “People?” he repeated suspiciously. “Who love me? You mean … Cyrus?”

“Right. Cyrus,” said Leta quietly. “That’s who I meant.”

Fiearius laughed, heavy and feeble, as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Ooh, Leta. You poor thing.” He patted her back affectionately, then pulled her in so she leaned into the plane of his chest.

“It’s rather unfortunate,” she sighed. Then she glanced up at him. “Wait, hang on. You just — you’ve never used my name before.”

“What?” He tilted his head. “Sure I have.”

“No, you haven’t. You never call me by my name.”

“I must’ve.”

“No. It’s only ‘kiddo’ which I hate, or ‘doctor,’ which is weird now, but never my name.”

Fiearius considered this. “Well I guess I should amend that, huh, Leta?” he said, and then he leaned his head against hers. “Don’t you think, Leta?” he said softly in her ear. “I should use your name more often. Leta?”

“I don’t know,” she laughed, shrugging him off. “It’s a little odd to hear it now.”

Fiearius returned the laugh. “Is it, Leta?” Then, his expression shifted from amusement to something else — something closer to mischief.

“You sure about that, Leta?” he said more quietly, as he turned his head to the side, brushing his lips near her ear. “I can stop if you’d like, Leta,” he went on, lowering his lips to the slope of her neck, his voice muffled against her skin. “Leta?” he added once more, before his mouth slid to the hollow of her collarbone. The sensation brought a shiver to her flesh.

“I changed my mind,” said Leta decisively. “I’m fine with it. Call me whatever you want.”

She felt him grin against her collarbone before he slid his hands up her back, holding her against him as he kissed back up to her lips. Leta circled her arm around his shoulders and drew him to her lips for a long, slow kiss. His hand pressed to the small of her back and inch by inch, with each utterance of her name and each following kiss, he lowered her horizontal onto the bed.

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

“So he asked her out, but the timing was just kind of sketchy so it didn’t happen,” Corra explained to Alyx. She was seated in the dining hall of the Beacon, which was growing all the more crowded with crew members from both her own ship and the Dionysian. A happy chatter filled the room, punctuated by the sounds of clinking dinnerware.

Corra, however, wasn’t eating. She was amusing herself by observing Cyrus, who was talking with Addy and Nikkolai across the room. It could not have been more obvious, with the way he was throwing her eager looks, that he wanted to be alone with her.

Alyx sat at Corra’s side, similarly entertained. “He could’ve asked her out earlier but I got in the way,” she sighed. “Now I feel terrible.”

“Oh, don’t, he probably wouldn’t have had the guts to ask her again anyhow,” Corra assured her, leaning back in her chair.

Across the dining hall, Nikkolai, apparently distracted by something Javier was doing, flitted away from the pair, leaving Cyrus and Addy alone. Corra was amazed.

“Oh come on, Cy-Cy. Just ask her if she wants to go somewhere else,” she whispered.

“Ask her out for dessert or drinks,” Alyx added.

“I was thinking ask her upstairs,” Corra laughed. And indeed, Cyrus was saying something, but before either one of them made any motion to change location, suddenly Addy was talking to Maya and again, all hope was lost. Slumping backwards, Corra shook her head. “I swear, he will never learn.”

“Pity, they could be cute together,” Alyx mused sadly before pushing herself up from the table and picking up her plate. “Anyway. I’ll be taking my dinner to go if that’s alright by you.”

“Aw, can’t stand to watch anymore?” Corra asked.

“Oh no, I could watch this all night. I just didn’t know my mother was invited.” She nodded towards the table where Quin sat in rather heated discussion with Fiearius, Dez and Leta. “Not really in the mood for a reunion, cap’n.”

“Understood,” said Corra. “Do what ya need, I’ll update you if anything interesting happens.”

Alyx chuckled and waved goodbye as she left Corra sitting all alone at the long table. Her attention shifted toward the unfolding argument on the other side of the room.

Everyone seemed to be having a good time, except this table. Quin, Fiearius, Leta and Dez were regarding each other angrily, clearly discussing the events of Blackwater.

“I don’t know what you’re so damn worried about, Soliveré,” Quin was saying, slouched confidently in her seat. “We won, didn’t we? And it was easy. You said it yourself, the people manning these things are just people. We did it twice, now, we can do it again.”

“They’re not going to let us do it again,” said Leta, her arms crossed and her expression steely. “Not after this one. There’s no way.”

“We’re going to have to,” said Dez. “We need to act again and act quickly if we want to make this worthwhile. To rally the people to–”

“Rally the people?” Fiearius interrupted, sounding incredulous. “You can’t be fucking serious.” His expression was dark; he looked ready to strike at any moment. But Corra noticed under the table that his hand was holding Leta’s knee.

“I am,” said Dez calmly. “If we want the people of Exymeron and the Society territories to side with us, we need to–”

“This is insane,” Fiearius growled. “You are insane.”

“Well what do you wanna do, eh?” asked Quin, pounding a fist on the table. “Go back to petty thievery?”

“Petty thievery? The only reason you’re even siding with this nonsense is because you want to steal more ships,” Fiearius pointed out.

“And the only reason you’re not is ‘cause you’re a coward,” challenged Quin. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Justice for your Council or whoever?”

Fiearius shook his head. “It’s not cowardice, it’s sense. Sure I’d love to see ‘justice,’ but what I want is different from what’s possible. I would much rather focus on keeping my ship flying and the people on it alive. And after that wonderful stunt back at Blackwater, even that’s gonna be difficult. But actually attacking them head on? With just the Dionysian and a single serving of Society fighters?” He shook his head. “It’s insane, it’s — “

“Real fun party, huh?” said Finn’s voice suddenly in her ear. Corra was glad for the distraction: Finn lowered to the seat beside her, shaking his head at the arguing table.

“If I’d known they’d be at this all night, I wouldn’t have invited them after all,” Corra sighed.

Finn did not look his usual light-hearted, humorous self. He paused and then said, “You heard what happened, right?” in a quiet voice.

“Of course.”

And, Corra thought, Fiearius was right. What they’d done to the Society base was a tremendous, bold, terrifying move. No doubt the Society would be tripling their efforts to take it down. Take her friends down. Suddenly she was hit by a stroke of guilt.

“D’ya think we need to help them?”

Finn swung his eyes back to her. “Eh?”

“I mean, if this really does blow up in their faces,” she went on. “If the Society really comes after them. Should we help? Should the Beacon help them?”

“We’ll help ‘em if they’re in need.”

She grew suddenly quiet. “And what if–what if they decide to fight back?” She nodded towards them. “Like they’re saying. If they really want to get justice or…something like that?”

“Well, that’s not really our fight, is it.”

She looked up at him, surprised. “Isn’t it? They’re our friends.”

“Enemy of my friend isn’t necessarily my enemy,” Finn grunted. “I mean, what’s the Society done to you?”

“Well…nothing to me exactly,” she admitted. “But what they’ve done to Leta and Cyrus and Fiearius…”

“Right. So I’ll support ‘em in the best way I can.”

“But you don’t think we should help.”

“I think we have our own jobs to do.” He winced, but went on steadily, “Look, aligning against the Society will put limits on us. It’ll mean there are certain places we can’t go. Certain jobs we can’t take. And for that, we’d probably lose Callahan. And without Callahan, without steady income, we’d lose some of our people too.”

Corra sighed. “S’pose you’re right.”

“Plus we’ll be putting the crew in danger we could otherwise avoid. We’ve only just managed to get Beacon off the Society’s radar entirely. You really want to risk jumping back on it? Knowing what that might mean?”

“No,” Corra said firmly. “The last thing I want is to be hunted.”

“‘Sides, didn’t you say earlier you wanted to help allies? How are you gonna do that with the Society on your tail? Even if we don’t do it now, look at the long term. If they want to take on a lofty fight against injustice, more power to ‘em. But that’s their goal. We need to be thinking about ours.”

Corra looked down at her hand as her fingers tapped the table nervously. “You’re right,” she muttered. “We have a responsibility to this ship and this crew. We need to do what’s best for us, not the Dionysian.” She was sure she didn’t sound entirely convinced because she wasn’t entirely convinced, no matter how right the decision was. And it was clear to her why.

“But if it really comes to that. If they attack the Society and we refuse to help?” she said quietly, her eyes trailing over to Fiearius and Leta. “They’re not gonna be happy.”

Finn wrinkled his forehead, looking troubled. “No,” he agreed, “No, they won’t.”

Finn looked hesitant — he so rarely was hesitant, it made her nervous. “I guess I’m just wondering if it was as bad as I think it was.”

Corra opened her mouth, then closed it again. Despite the vagueness of the question, she knew precisely what he meant. It was something a lot of people wondered. Whether or not they had the guts to ask it was another question.

She traced the rim of her bottle and said at last, “There were some chores less bearable than others. Some days…that were hard to get through.” She took a deep, shaky breath before she added, “But on those days, I had my family. The other allies in the complex. We were there for each other, through everything. We supported each other no matter what.” She smiled. “So…yeah, it was bad. But no. Probably not as bad as you think.”

“So they’re still there, your family? On Kadolyne?”

“Some of them probably, but it’s hard to say,” she admitted. “Goddora’s business was trade, so most allies really didn’t stay on Kadolyne long. Just long enough to be trained and sold to the highest bidder. I can only assume his successor operates the same way.”

“Do you think you’ll ever go back there?”

“I’d like to,” she said quietly. “I’d like to–I don’t know–help somehow. Get them out of there. Set them free.”

Finn’s hand stilled on her back. “Is that, ah, possible?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe? Hopefully? It’s difficult to imagine ever taking down an entire industry, but if I can just help in some way, even if it’s a small way? One day I’d at least like to try.” She sighed and slipped into thoughtful silence before adding quickly, “Not for a while though, of course. I mean, I don’t want to derail the Beacon or anything, I know the work we’re doing for Callahan, smuggling ships and all, is i–” She cut herself off suddenly and seemed to reconsider the statement.

“Important?” said Finn doubtfully.

She chuckled and shook her head. “Not the right word, is it? But hey, credits are important. Keeping our crew happy and fed, that’s important. Personal vendettas? Don’t tend to do that.”

“I don’t know, cap’n.” His voice warmed with sudden interest. “Freeing allies seems like a pretty worthwhile side-project to me.”

The way he spoke, it was as if they could turn the ship around and go set a whole colony of allies free within the day. Corra wasn’t sure whether to be startled, appreciative or annoyed at how easy he made it all sound, but she never got the chance to respond. Just then, the console across the room flashed with a new message.

Quickly swigging her beer, Corra set the bottle on the side table, gathered her sheet around her shoulders and slid her feet to the floor.

She took one look at the screen and felt surprise flash through her.

“What’s the Dionysian doing coming back here so early?”

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

Hours after Blackwater, hours after watching a Society dreadnought crash into the side of mountain, Cyrus was still in shock. He was convinced he was dreaming as the rest of the day had played out: the Dionysian was on course back to Relara while Fiearius paced around the bridge, shouting at Dez and Quin over the COMM; Leta, quietly stunned, trying to make sense of what would happen next. Cyrus half-expected a Society ship to shoot them out of the sky any second.

It was only when the Dionysian touched ground again that he snapped out of it and took his first real breath. Fiearius continued to shout and argue, but Cyrus had nothing to add to the conversation. Cyrus had no desire to add to the conversation. And when he overheard that the the Beacon was ashore too, he remembered the last conversation he’d had with Addy and suddenly Fiearius and the debate and the threat of the Society was wiped entirely from his mind.

‘So how about that dinner?’ he’d ask when he found her. Casual, that was the key, he told himself as he wandered through the halls of the Beacon, trying to act like he wasn’t simply looking for her. Casual. Totally casual. But when suddenly a voice rang out behind him calling his name, casual was probably the last trait he seemed to possess.

“Cyrus! What’re you doing here?”

He spun around and as soon as he registered the messy blonde hair, the thin black glasses on the top of her head and those piercingly kind blue eyes, he tried his best to pretend she hadn’t made him jump in surprise by leaning calmly against the wall. Instead, he accidentally rammed his arm into it.

If she was phased, she didn’t act it. “I thought the Dionysian was off on an exciting mission,” she went on curiously, smiling.

“It is,” he answered, refraining from rubbing his sore shoulder. “I mean, it was. We were. But it’s over now. So…we came back.”

“Oh! How’d it go?”

Ridiculously, was the first word that jumped into his head, but out of his mouth came a sort of indicative crazed laugh. A crazed laugh that, judging by Addy’s face, only served to confuse her. Hurriedly, he added, “Kind of a long story.” A long story I can tell you over dinner, he said in his head with a charming smile that never made it to his face.

‘So how about  that dinner?’ his brain reminded him. That was the line. Surely he could say that. It was easy. So how about that dinner.

“So how about that engine?” he asked and proceeded to internally kick himself.

Addy’s lips came together in confusion. “Oh, it’s fine? Everything’s running — “

But then Addy was cut off by another shout down the hallway. “Cyrus?”

Hesitant, Cyrus glanced back over his shoulder to see who could possibly be looking for him now. The lanky woman with strikingly bright blue hair he found there was not at all who he was expecting.

“…Alyx?”

“Oh God, Cy, it is you!” Suddenly, Alyx came forward, threw her arms around him and scooped him up in a hug that practically paralyzed him. “What are you doing here?!”

“I could ask you the same,” Cyrus muttered as she finally released him.

“Ooh, you two know each other?” asked Addy keenly.

“I did a bit of a stint on the Dionysian a while back,” Alyx told her with a wide grin. “And now I’m filling in as the Beacon’s navigator. Small Span after all, huh?” She took Cyrus by the shoulder and gave him a fond shake.

“Y-yeah,” Cyrus muttered. “Guess so.” He glanced at Addy and shrugged as though that meant anything. Usually, he would welcome the sight of an old friend. Particularly an old friend as good as Alyx. But he had been so very close to an evening out with Addy (well, another five to ten minutes of babbling close anyway), that he had to try very hard not to resent her for magically appearing out of nowhere to ruin his plans.

Unfortunately, the sentiment must have been apparent for, after a moment, Alyx’s enthusiasm lessened a bit.

“Anyway,” she said through a vaguely nervous laugh. “Didn’t mean to barge into your conversation. Sure you two have a lot of important…engineery things to talk about. But apparently Corra’s invited the crew of the Dionysian over for dinner. I was just heading down there now if you wanted to come with?”

Dinner with the Dionysian crew? So dinner with his angry brother that he had purposefully come to the Beacon to avoid? He could think of nothing he desired less. And yet —

“That sounds awesome!” said Addy, giving a little bounce on her feet. “Dinner with everybody? Like the whole crew? That’s great, I need to meet Eve — oh yeah, Leta lent a book to me a while ago, I’ve got to give it back — “

Internally, Cyrus sighed in defeat. But Addy must have noticed, because her expression faltered. “Oh — but — we were supposed to get dinner — er, weren’t we, Cy?”

So she’d actually remembered? He almost felt his heart flutter were it not for the painful catch 22. Dinner alone? What he wanted. Or dinner with literally everyone? What Addy wanted. Who was he, though, to deny her what she desired?

“Oh no, it’s okay,” he assured her. “We’ll probably be out of here soon, so if you want to see them, now might be your only chance.” He smiled, though inside he was cursing his own poor timing. “We’ll just get dinner — some other time.”

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