The sight sent Fiearius barreling towards them. Coming up behind her, he grabbed Ophelia’s wrist mid-swipe as Leta fell backwards in order to avoid it. Varisian was fast and small, but in a match of pure strength, she was outnumbered by her predecessor. Fiearius twisted his grip and her hand loosened the blade, which fell on the floor in a clatter.

At once, Leta seized it and took another swipe at the woman’s legs as Fiearius held her in place. She got in one good cut before Varisian managed to wrench her wrist free and slam her elbow into Fiearius’ ribs. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. She spun around in that one half-second of distraction and cracked her fist across his face.

It wasn’t the strongest punch by far, but by the time his own fist came flying back at her, she had the advantage again. She ducked easily out of the way, hitting him again in the torso. He tried to grab her, but she slipped out of his grip. She landed another attack square in his chest, but as she avoided what would have been a magnificent right hook, she stepped back instead right into Leta’s dagger as it swiped viciously and deeply across the back of her ankle.

With another cry, Ophelia fell backwards. Leta rolled out of the way, her hand groping the floor for the gun.

“Fiear!” she called, tossing the weapon into his hand.

In a flash he cocked it and aimed it  at Ophelia’s head. It was only another moment before Leta had righted herself and pulled her own gun. On the ground and unarmed, Varisian, leaning back on her palms and looking up at them with an expression of pure hatred, said nothing. She did nothing. She had made a mistake. And now she was paying for it.

For their part, Fiearius and Leta were still breathing heavily, their lungs and hearts trying to catch up to what had just happened. Fiearius’ mind was even further back. This is how it had to end, right? Varisian was a problem. She was a danger. This was right. But looking at her now, on the floor and defenseless, stubborn and unwavering til the very end, for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.

He still hadn’t made up his mind when the entire base shook violently. And kept shaking. And suddenly the control room was bathed in natural light and dust and a terrific crash as a quarter of the hangar roof gave way. The base, Fiearius realized in horror. It was coming down.

But he was only able to afford it a moment’s attention before turning his sights back on Ophelia. But if she had intended to use the distraction as her out, she’d failed. She, too, seemed too shocked by the sight of crumbling debris and bright sunlight to make a move. And that was when the COMM kicked in.

“–iear?” it buzzed as it slowly regained reception. “Fiearius?! Can you hear me? Can you–”

“Cy?” Fiearius responded. “Cy, what–”

“Oh geez, finally!” Cyrus interrupted. “What the hell is going on? All your communications cut out when you entered the base! I didn’t know what happened! And then this huge ship showed up and then all these fighters started shooting at it and the mountain is collapsing and what the hell is going on?! Do you even see this?!”

Fiearius shot a quick look at Leta to make sure she’d stay in place watching their captive as he rushed to the window and peered out. Thick dust still filled the air, but he could see the sky through the hole left by the attack. Or rather, he could see what was in the sky. The biggest ship he’d ever seen, a huge monstrous shape, surrounded by tiny fighter ships, Quin’s people, firing at it. His heart stopped in his chest. It was then and only then that Fiearius realized just how out of his depth he was.

“Yeah,” he muttered weakly into the COMM. “Yeah, I see it…”

The building around them shuddered violently again. “Fiear, we need to get out of here,” Leta called.

She was right. But as he tore his eyes from the behemoth above and scanned the rubble below, an even more worrisome realization hit him: the only remaining ships had been directly under the now gaping hole. They were covered in rubble. Well there went the exit strategy.

With no other ideas in sight, Fiearius hit the COMM again. “Cyrus,” he began calmly. “I need you to come get us.”

The line was silent. Until —

“Wait. What?!”

“I need you to take the Dionysian. And fly it over here. And get us.”

“Take the Dionysian, fly it over there? There, with the massive heavily armed warship? You want me to fly this ship, this ship I can hardly fly on a good day, over there to the center of hell and chaos and pick you up?!”

Fiearius took a deep breath. “Yes, Cyrus. That’s what I want you to do.”

“Are you fucking crazy?! I can’t do that!”

“Well you kinda have to, Cy!” Fiearius snapped, losing patience. “Put her down outside the hangar, we’ll be there.”

“Put her down?! Fiearius, you can’t seriously think I can–”

“Just do it, Cy! Get my ship here now or pretty soon it’s gonna be your ship!”

Cyrus didn’t respond. Fiearius could only hope it was because he was doing as he was asked. Which left them about eight minutes to get down there themselves. He turned back to Leta, but she had her own concern.

“What about–” she began, nodding towards Ophelia, still patiently awaiting judgment on the floor.

Shit. There wasn’t time for this. He marched towards her, raising his gun again to her forehead. He just had to do it. He just had to end this so they could leave. He just had to pull the trigger and walk away.

But his finger wouldn’t budge.

“Fiearius–” Leta prompted and he glanced at her as though only just remembering she was there. But as he looked at her, something past her caught his eye. Something on the wall. He tucked the gun behind his back and marched over to retrieve it.

“I’m probably going to regret this,” he muttered.”

He felt Leta’s curious eyes on him as he brought the cord back and kneeled down beside Ophelia. He made quick work of it, but the binds around her wrists tying her to a nearby pipe were strong and solid enough to hold her in place.

When he was finished, he stood up and looked down at her. “Know that this is my one act of mercy. You won’t get another.” He seized Leta’s hand. “Let’s go.”

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

The hangar was in shambles. Concrete crumbled to the ground, dust clouded the air and every second was filled with booms that shook the ground beneath their feet as Leta and Fiearius ran across the huge expanse of the hangar towards the open door looking out into the jungle.

At his side, Leta, whose hand he was still grasping for dear life, looked up as the huge shadow of the Legacy passed over them. “Gods…” she whispered. “Is Quin gonna be okay?”

A hundred fighters against the Legacy? It was hard to imagine a positive outcome. But yet again, Fiearius replied, “Fuckin’ hope so.”

They kept on, pounding the ground beneath them, dodging rubble that had settled and avoiding debris still falling. They were almost out. But the space just beyond was empty. Tentatively, Fiearius hit his COMM.

“Cy?” he called hopefully. “We’re almost there. How’re you doing?”

He could feel Leta’s eyes on him, expecting, waiting, probably praying just as hard as he was that the Dionysian hadn’t already gone down either by the Legacy’s fire or Cyrus’ sheer incompetence at flying her.

But there was no reply. No counter to the fear that the worst had happened. No relief that they were not just going to run out of this base and be faced with no way off this planet.

It was getting ever closer. And closer. And still their trajectory was nothing but trees. “Cy?” Fiearius called into the COMM again. “Cy, can you hear me?”

“Fiear, what if he’s–” cried Leta as another blast shook the base.

“He’ll be there!” Fiearius called back to her. “He has to be!” He better be, he thought.

Another shot hit and the shudder was so intense, Fiearius almost lost his footing, but Leta’s decisive pull on his arm was enough to keep him upright.

“I don’t think this base can stand much more of this!” she shouted over the racket of concrete crumbling.

It couldn’t. It wouldn’t. They were practically outside now. The dirt ground of the jungle was a mere two hundred feet away. The hangar was on the verge of collapsing. And Fiearius tried one last time. “Cyrus, please, please, please, just don’t be–”

But his message was interrupted. Just as their feet crossed the threshold of the door, they were met by a blast of wind that nearly knocked them back. A blast of wind caused, it seemed, by the clunky descent of a ship filling the clearing. A familiar old rusty ship. The Dionysian.

“I-I’m here!” cried Cyrus over the COMM. “I’m here, get on!”

Allowing himself only one breath of relief, Fiearius powered on as the ship hovered some twenty feet in the air haphazardly before them, the ramp slowly opening.

“Get her lower, Cy!” Fiearius called as they approached.

The ship dropped suddenly, only barely missing the ground, for just enough time for the two of  them to leap onto the ramp. They clambered up it as the ship wavered to and fro, unhappy to be held in this kind of stasis. As soon as he hit the top, Fiearius slammed the ramp controls to closed and kept running. Leta was on his heels.

“We’re aboard, go! Now!” he ordered into the COMM and the ship jolted. Leta grabbed Fiearius’ arm to keep herself steady. He grabbed a railing. And as the ship started to rise, they continued to climb through the ship, passing its confused and shaken crew who were holding on to anything they could get their hands on. They didn’t stop until they pounded into the bridge.

“I-I did it,” Cyrus muttered as soon as he felt Fiearius’ hand hit the back of his chair. “I d-did it. I did it,” he said again, as though he still couldn’t quite believe what was happening himself.

“You did, now keep doing it,” Fiearius told him.

“What about Quin?” Leta asked. “Dez? The Legacy, what about –”

As if answering her question, the ship was suddenly pushed forward in a burst of air followed by the sound of a distant explosion.

Cyrus gripped the controls tighter. “W-what was that?!”

“I don’t know, turn her around so we can get a better look!” Fiearius yelled. Shakily, Cyrus followed the order.

The skyline outside shifted as the ship made an about face. Fiearius was prepared to see the worst, but he could have never been prepared for what they found on that horizon.

Filling in the air like birds, near a hundred fighter ships hovered above the base. The two Satieran frigates Quin had brought along had joined them in the battle. And the Legacy, that great ship thrice the size of the frigates combined, was shrouded in fire and smoke. In truth, Fiearius was only able to catch a small glimpse of it as it plummeted into the ground. No, into the mountain. The mountain which gave way to its size and crumbled beneath its impact in an explosion of dust so great, it was impossible to see where it ended and the clouds began.

Fiearius could find no words. Leta and Cyrus were agape. The base. Blackwater. It was…gone. The Legacy. Gone. Any agents still inside, likely dead. They had gone into this attempting only to dismantle the place. Cause a bit of trouble and steal some ships. It was meant to be more annoyance than harm.

But they had destroyed a Society dreadnought. Worse, they’d destroyed a Society stronghold.

Finally, the crackle of the COMM speaker broke the heavy silence.

“Soliveré, you still alive?!” It was Quin. In the background behind her voice were joyous cries of victory. “Did you fuckin’ see that? Did you see that?” Her voice was muffled as she apparently spoke to someone else. “Hey Cordova. How’s that for a message, huh?” She let out a raucous laugh. “Let’s head back to Relara, eh, Soliveré? I’m buyin’ you a drink. Two drinks. I’ll buy your whole damn crew a drink. So long Blackwater! So fuckin’ long!”

The COMM clicked off and the Dionysian’s bridge was plunged back into silence. Fiearius could not believe what he was seeing. Though they had all made it out alive, the mission had technically been a success, but Fiearius didn’t share in Quin’s feeling of victory. He didn’t feel relieved. What had once been a small act of defiance was now so much more than that and somewhere inside him, he knew that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

Finally, at long last, he looked over at Leta and said the only two words his racing brain could form. “Well shit.”

“So with the exception of this,” Fiearius gestured to the command center around them and the hangar beyond, “the base is defunct. Perfect.”

“Let’s finish it off then,” said Dez, lifting his rifle like a bat and readying to slam it into the console he stood before. Before he could complete the arc, though, Quin cut him off.

“Hang on there, muscles,” she called, raising her hand. “Let’s not be hasty. Maybe we should leave this room intact.”

“”Til we get the hangar door open would be good,” Leta suggested, glancing at Dez in distrust.

“No no, not just the hangar door,” Quin corrected, shaking her head and drawing a circle in the air with her palm. “This whole thing. Might come in handy y’know?”

Fiearius raised a brow at her skeptically. “What exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying, these ships are real nice, but a place to store ‘em would be even nicer don’tcha think?”

“No,” he said shortly. “No, that’s not what we agreed on.” He holstered his gun and folded his arms over his chest. “You help us disable the base, you get the ships, we never said anything about the hangar.”

“Well that was before I saw the damn thing,” Quin said simply. “And I ain’t only talkin’ about the hangar either.” She glanced to the door. “Rest of the base ain’t so bad itself.”

“And what about the two hundred agents still inside?” Leta demanded, her eyes slitting dangerously. “Doubt they’re just going accept new management.”

Quin eyed her in confusion as though she’d just asked  the most basic of questions. “They ain’t gonna have to. All rounded up like that, you’d be surprised how quick we can take care of ‘em.”

Leta threw a hand in the air. “Are you out of your godsdamn mind? They’re low-level employees. They don’t know who they’re working for. They don’t deserve whatever it is you — “

“Hang on, just hang on.” Fiearius lifted a hand between them. “We’re not killing anybody. That’s not what this is about.”

“She shouldn’t be taking the ships either,” came Dez’s voice unexpectedly. All eyes turned to him. “Utada can’t take the ships.”

Practically pushing past Fiearius, Quin stalked towards Dez, the fury in her face so strong that even Dez took a step backwards. “Excuse me?!” she demanded. “What did you just say?”

If Dez was alarmed, it certainly didn’t prevent him from keeping his mouth shut. “If you take the ships, we look like petty thieves only in this for material gain. Mere criminals. The people will have no reason to side with us. It sends the wrong message.”

“Message?” Quin repeated. “Message?! I didn’t haul a hundred of my people through the jungle for two days for a fucking message.” Dez looked about ready to argue, but Quin swung her attention to Fiearius. “Is this what you think too?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Fiearius defended at once. “The ships are yours, we already agreed to that–”

“They’re hers only at risk of undermining the entire effort,” Dez muttered sharply.

“Undermining?” Quin growled. “Soliveré, you best keep this Sochy pet of yours under control or I’ll–”

This was unraveling, and it was unraveling fast. Fiearius knew it. So did Leta. She stepped between them and growled, “Would all of you stop? We need to get out of here!”

Shouting filled the room, the voices yelling over one another. Then another sound stole Fiearius’ attention. A distant booming sound, far off, but getting clearer.

He looked up. The ceiling that was starting to vibrate as the deep booming got louder and louder. Or rather, closer and closer.

“Hey,” Fiearius began hesitantly, his voice nearly drowned out by all the other sound in the room. “What is–”

All other noise was suddenly halted as the speakers in the control room erupted with a voice that overrode all of them.

“Attention intruders,” it stated in a bass that shook the walls. “This is the dreadnought Legacy. We have your position locked. You’re surrounded. Surrender and you may be permitted to live.”

The voice dropped off and the four occupants of the room stood in stunned silence.

Finally, Leta whispered, “I thought we shut off communications and security, how did they know–”

“We must not have been fast enough,” Fiearius answered under his breath.

They fell silent again, listening only to the great boom of the ship that must have been directly above them. Finally, Quin took a deep breath, spit on the ground and declared, “Well hell of a reason to slow down now.” She hoisted her rifle onto her back and started for the door. “Our rides outta here are ten miles away and there’s a goddamn sky-beast in between us and them. Don’t know about you lot, but I ain’t waitin’ for ‘permission’ to live.”

Fiearius turned towards her. “The ships,” he said. “Get your people into the ships. I’ll get the door open and you can all get the hell out of here.”

“Oh I’ll do ya one better than that,” Quin agreed. “You.” She pointed at Dez. “Help me rally up the troops and get ‘em into those fighters. To hell with your damn ‘message.’” As she ran out the door, Dez cast Fiearius one more glare before following after her, leaving only himself and Leta in the control room.

Leta turned to him, panic hiding behind her eyes. “You know how to work the controls?”

Fiearius mustered a nervous smirk. “Not a clue. Lend me your eyes, would ya?”

At once, they stepped toward the front consoles. Fiearius found the interfaces familiar but the content was anything but. The most advanced Society programming Fiearius had ever touched certainly couldn’t control the docking protocol of near a hundred fighters. Out the window below them, they started to see Quin’s people rushing into the hangar, climbing into ships that were still locked into place. Leta, apparently, wasn’t having much luck either. And it was only minutes before they had a helpful reminder of how long this was taking.

“Intruders,” boomed the speakers so suddenly that Fiearius clamped his hands over his ears to shield them from the sound. “I repeat. There is no way out of the base. Surrender or face the consequences. We are poised and ready. Do not force our hand.”

Leta cast him a wide-eyed sideways glance. “Are they going to — do you think they’ll attack the base?”

Fiearius grimaced. Attacking their own base? Murdering all the personnel within for the sake of eliminating four intruders? Didn’t sound as farfetched as it should have.

“Fuckin’ hope not.”

Another voice suddenly erupted around them. This one a little friendlier. Only a little. “My people are ready to go, why the hell isn’t that door open?!” shouted Quin.

“Working on it,” Fiearius growled, forgetting or maybe subconsciously neglecting to hit the button that actually connected him to the ships’ COMM lines.

“Found it!” Leta suddenly exclaimed, making him jump. If the room wasn’t booming before, it certainly was then as the massive steel door started to lower, shaking the entire structure.

“Thank ya kindly, Soliveré!” came Quin’s cheer as the ships in the hangar started to lift off. “See ya on the other side.”

Now that the ships were free (and he could already hear the first few shots being fired as the fighters climbed out of the base and up into the Legacy’s sky), there was only one thing left to do.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

They shared one last look of alarm before he turned for the door. But he’d only made it a step outside when Leta called for him in a voice he hoped to the gods he’d never hear again.

“Fiear — !” she cried, her voice choking, and he spun around with his gun in his hand.

They were not alone after all.

He never wanted to see this woman again, but there she was. Ophelia Varisian stood tall and poised behind Leta, who had been forced down to her knees. Leta struggled, but Ophelia dug her fingers roughly into her hair, holding her in place. Fiearius could hardly absorb the sight.

How had she gotten here? It must have been that the sleek black destroyer Cyrus had spotted docking in the base. A sleek black destroyer reserved for elite agents. A sleek black destroyer that had already chased him halfway across the Span.

But it didn’t matter how she’d gotten here. All that mattered was that she was holding a shining pistol against Leta’s temple.

“Drop your weapons, Soliveré, or I’ll end her,” Ophelia said coldly.

Leta’s eyes were fearful, but she gritted her teeth. “Don’t, Fiear.” Her voice was somehow steady. “Don’t give her your gun.”

When Fiearius didn’t move, Ophelia tugged on Leta’s hair and pulled her closer. “Now!” she yelled, just as Leta cried, “Don’t, Fiear, she’ll just kill you too!”

But in the end, it wasn’t a question at all. He was cornered. He had no back-up plan, no expert pirate savviness to get them out of this. Leta had a gun to her head. He had nothing.

In his defeat, he held up his hands., “Alright. Alright. Okay, I’ll do what you ask just…don’t — don’t go pullin’ any triggers…”

Carefully as he could, he crouched to lower his gun to the floor, and then righted himself to his feet. He lifted his brows at her indicatively, but Ophelia just glared at the weapon and flicked her eyes to the side.

Fiearius groaned. Gently as he could, he slipped his foot underneath the gun and kicked it aside so that it slid all the way across the floor and hit the wall.

“Happy now?” he asked, meeting Leta’s eyes only for a moment before forcing himself to look away. They were at an obvious disadvantage. A disadvantage that, as of this moment, he didn’t have any idea how to get out of. He was on the verge of failing her and they both knew it. Above them, ship fire blasted every few seconds, booming through the hangar and shaking the very mountain they were beneath, and all he could do was stand there, uselessly holding his hands up, and wait for Ophelia’s next move.

But she didn’t move. She only stood there, gun still on Leta and glare still set on Fiearius. Perhaps she hadn’t thought this through either. There were calculations blazing behind her eyes.Who to kill first, perhaps? Speed and accuracy of aim after she fired a bullet through Leta’s head?

His mind was racing, his heart was pounding, but his gun was a good 5 seconds away, a well-aimed shot another 10 and Leta would be dead before the bullet even caught flesh. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t watch her die. And yet he couldn’t do anything else either.

It was over.

But then, in the eternal tick of a second, Varisian turned her gun from Leta across the room to Fiearius and finally making her decision. She squeezed the trigger.

The bullet blasted by Fiearius’ head — he could feel it ruffle his hair. It was nearly a perfect shot, but not nearly enough and as it zoomed past his ear, embedding itself in the concrete wall, her mistake became quickly apparent. As soon as the nozzle left her temple, Leta reached back and managed to seize the hilt of a small dagger Varisian had strapped to her hip.

Fiearius watched as, nearly in slow motion, Leta lifted the knife and swiftly struck it back into her captor’s thigh.

A scream of pain, and then Ophelia doubled over, dropping the gun as Leta tried to put some distance between them. But Ophelia had the advantage of Internal Affairs. She had the advantage of Flush. She recovered quickly, yanked the blade from her flesh and swiped at Leta, catching her on the arm and leaving a thin line of red.

“Okay well when you’ve got a more positive conclusion on that, let me know,” Fiearius said. “For now, let’s get on with it.”

“We’ll keep in touch, Cy,” said Leta. “Stay safe.”

“Yeah, you too,” Cyrus said, his voice hollow. He disconnected the COMM and settled his sights on the ship, now descending behind the mountain into the base’s hangar. It still didn’t feel right, regardless of what Fiearius thought. He only hoped he was wrong.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Fiearius wasn’t much for planning. Generally, he preferred to throw himself into the chaos and then decide on the course of action. Studying had never been familiar to him. He’d never sat down and studied anything in his life, as far as he could recall. So when Cyrus had suggested — insisted — that they spend a number of hours hunched over the Blackwater’s blueprints to memorize the best route from the ventilation ducts to the main entrances, he had groaned and only complied begrudgingly.

Now that he was actually inside the base, though, he was glad he’d done it. Beside that first guard on the way in who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, they hadn’t run into a single agent. Maybe that nerd was onto something after all.

He and Leta had crossed first through the maintenance areas, where the workers wouldn’t be about until much later in the day. Then they’d taken the back route through the barracks which had been abandoned for the morning fitness routine. It wasn’t until they hit the living quarters that they even saw another human being and even then, it wasn’t a very threatening one.

“Ya think we should write something on his face?” Fiearius whispered to Leta as he stood over the couch where a young agent was sprawled out haphazardly. His limbs were splayed out in all directions, his mouth hung open and a line of drool was dripping from it onto the pillow.

Leta cast Fiearius a glare and held a finger over her lips to shush him.

“Oh relax, he can’t hear me. Can ya?” he asked the sleeping man. His uniform shirt was crisp and new. The librera tattoo on his arm was still shiny and fresh. A new recruit. Who, by the looks of him, had suffered the new recruit treatment. Fiearius had never been on a Society base himself, but the scene was still familiar. Nostalgic, even.

“If all they’ve got to offer is Captain Hangover here, I can’t say I’m that intimidated,” Fiearius muttered, looking back at Leta who had already crept to the other side of the room and was gesturing for him to follow.

“Can we please move on?” she whispered hurriedly.

He joined her as they moved on into what must have been the cafeteria. Lining the walls were posters Fiearius had seen before, many years ago, but never in this magnitude. They showed images of Carthian cruisers and battleships exploding in midair, their military’s insignia in a circle with a thick line through it, Carthian officials standing before Society prisoners. Emblazened across them were pointed slander, empowering calls to action and warnings to watch out for traitors. But what got his attention most were the handwritten additions. The thick pen marks scribbled over the Carthian faces, the angry slurs jotted down beside them. Blatant propaganda as the posters may have been, they were clearly doing their job.

Leta must have noticed too.

“I didn’t know the Society hated Carthis this much,” she muttered as they made their way across the cafeteria carefully.

Fiearius shrugged. “Well Carthis used to be part of Exymeron. They defected right around when the Society came to power.”

“Doubt that’s a coincidence,” Leta remarked.

“The Council didn’t think so either,” Fiearius agreed. “Nor were they happy about losing all that territory. Which is why the two have been slowly fighting over it for the past century. Carthis wants its border planets back and…well, Exymeron wants the whole damn thing back.” He gestured to the area around them. “Thus the base.”

“Sure, I’d expect that from the Council,” Leta admitted, as they passed more propaganda posters. “The everyday people though…”

“It’s kind of just part of the culture. If you’re in Exymeron, you’re supposed to hate Carthis. All of our economic problems are blamed on them. Anyone goes missing, it’s a Carthian spy who did it. Bank gets robbed? Carthians. Even in school, they teach the 2nd Division War with them as flat out villains and Exymeron as dashing heroes of the disenfranchised. We’re just ingrained to despise them.”

“And yet your best friend is ex-Carthian military.”

Fiearius grinned at her as he gently eased open the door into the corridor. “What can I say, I’m a rebel.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, another voice reach his ears. At once, he pulled the door to a quiet shut and went very still. The voice (voices? One sounded male, the other female) were coming closer, growing louder.

“Well what the hell is an A-class destroyer doing here?” the man said as Fiearius sidestepped against the wall beside the door, his hand on his gun. Leta went very still, sliding him a look of alarm.

“I don’t know,” said the woman. “No one knows. Her pilot won’t even say. Not even to the commander. And I guess the clearance is high enough that there’s nothing we can do about it.”

The voices were close now, just outside the door. Fiearius’ grip on the gun tightened. “You think it’s a spy?”

“What? No way.” And they were coming closer. “No way some Carthy scum could get a hold of one of those.” And closer. “They’ve got the best security out there.” Fiearius heard the thud of hands meeting the door. “The thing’s one of ours, for sure.”

Before his eyes, the door swung open. Fiearius’ breath caught in his lungs and his body stiffened against the wall. The click of heels hit the floor as the two figures marched into the cafeteria.

But if they knew anyone was watching, they didn’t show it.

“Anyway, whatever’s going on, we’ll probably never know,” the woman went on as the two continued on, oblivious of the two intruders not ten feet behind them. “If it’s that high level?” She scoffed indignantly. “Let’s just find Patterson and get back to our post before we all get in trouble.”

They were halfway across the room by now. Fiearius felt his shoulders loosen and Leta beside him slowly let out a quiet breath she’d been holding. He met her eyes briefly and nodded towards the door beside them. She nodded back and as silently as he could, he put out his arm and pushed open the door just enough for Leta to tiptoe through it. As soon as she was in the corridor, he slipped through behind her and the last thing he heard as the door slid shut was, “I can’t believe how drunk they got him last night. I’ve never seen someone puke so much in my life.”

Now safely in the hallway, Fiearius finally released his hold of his gun and let out a sigh.

“That was a little too close for comfort,” Leta whispered. “What was that about? That ship? They said it was high level. Do you think Cyrus was right about it?”

“Could be,” Fiearius mused, though he’d shifted his attention to figuring out exactly where they were. He stalked a few paces down the hall where the path split in two. “But we’re already here so I guess we’ll just have to find out the hard way. All the more reason to let the cavalry in as soon as possible.” He glanced back at her. “I’m afraid this is where we part ways. We should hurry.”

Leta nodded. Amazingly, she did not look particularly worried.

“You know the way, right?” he said.

“Of course.” Leta furrowed her brow. “Wait, do you?”

“My memory’s not that bad,” he told her with a frown. “Alright, let me know when you’re in your position, I’ll let you know when I’m in mine. We should try and get the doors open at the same time and keep a similar pace if we really wanna catch ‘em off guard. Attack from both sides of the complex at once.”

“And meet back in the center, right.” Leta nodded.

For a moment, Fiearius felt himself soften. This was the first time he’d sent Leta off on this kind of mission alone. He knew she’d be fine. No one fought as hard as Leta at anything — she’d certainly been through enough by now to come out of this okay and there was nothing like a strong motivation to keep someone fighting. She would be completely fine. But logic aside, he couldn’t stop the smallest swell of worry that this was a final goodbye.

He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Take care of yourself, okay, kiddo?”

Leta just smirked. “Don’t call me that.”

She put her hand over his, squeezed once and said, “I’ll see you soon,” before turning down the hallway.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Adrenaline spiked through Leta’s veins as she crossed down the other hallway, darting as quickly and quietly as possible through the maze of corridors. Now that she’d parted with Fiearius, she felt her senses sharpen as she strained to hear every footfall and voice, but the path was quiet, just as well planned as the first leg of the journey. She’d have to thank Cyrus for his diligence later.

Occasionally she heard a far-off mumbling or the sound of footsteps on the level above her, but never did she see any matching figures. Only long concrete halls and creaky pipes all the way. She honestly believed she might really be able to complete this mission without a single hiccup. Right up until she turned the corner towards the entrance corridor and her heart went still.

Two guards. Flanking the double-doors. They were clad in all black, their expressions sullen and bored as they paced around, but they were heavily armed.

Naturally, Leta’s first encounter with armed agents happened when Fiearius was already several hallways away. He could’ve made short work of these two. But no matter. She’d prepared for this. Though her main assignment was shutting down a couple security systems and a locking mechanism, she’d known there was a chance of more human element blocking the way.

She had just hoped there wouldn’t be.

Crouched on her legs, Leta carefully slid out her handgun from where she’d tucked it into the small of her back. Then she inhaled tightly through her nose, stood tall to her feet and crossed forward as if intending to burst through the doors, guards be damned.

As predicted, both men wheeled around and then jolted in alarm, registering nothing but shock as they reached for the guns at their hips.

“Sound the alarm! She’s — not — sound the alarm, sound the — !”

But Leta never gave them the chance to sound the alarm. In one swift motion she directed her pistol at one of the man’s hips and squeezed the trigger, and then again at the other man’s leg. Two decisive metal ‘plinks’ erupted through her silenced pistol and dissipated through the corridor, and then Leta was stepping past them as they dropped to the floor, bloody and howling in pain. Fortunately, she didn’t think anyone was nearby enough to hear them.

But they would be alright. They were hurt and for the moment immobilized, but she knew where to pull the trigger so the bullets wouldn’t prove fatal. As accustomed to the Dionysian and the ‘space pirate’ life as she may have become, never would she kill in cold-blood: she did just enough to injure the men, enough to keep them out of her way, as she pulled open the double-doors to the entrance corridor and threw them closed behind her. At once, their wailings were silenced.

Still, injured as the men were, that did not mean they wouldn’t recuperate and call for backup. But she was so close to backup of her own, it hardly mattered.

Quickly, Leta took stock of the new setting: it was a long corridor ending in one of the only two doors into the base and it was momentarily empty. Leta crossed over the shining floor to where a console was embedded into the wall.

Just as she started typing away as Cyrus had taught her, Fiearius’ voice crackled in her ear.

“Hey, I’m at my console, not a damn soul in sight. You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Run into any trouble?”

“Only a little.”

“Alright, cameras and alarms are off on my end.”

“Mine too.”

“You ready?”

“Let’s do this.”

Taking a deep breath, Leta hit the unlocking mechanism and the double-doors at her side glided open soundlessly. Outside, in the bright light, stood Quin. Surrounding her was her small army of at least fifty gunhands, and Leta could not help but grin as she said, “Hey, come on in.”

So Fiearius wasn’t going to talk her out of this — out of this insane mission. Out of leading the charge into their Society-base break-in. In a tone of questioning, she said, “But you won’t blame me if I back out.”

He tightened his lips in thought, his head shaking. “Never. You do what’s right by you. Always.”

For a moment, Leta did nothing but gaze over at him, her lips curved to a close-lipped smile. This, she thought to herself, was why she was with Fiearius; this was exactly why she spent her free hours in the bridge with him, why she slept tangled in his bed every night. Because they were an hour’s walk away from invading a Society base and he sat at her side calmly. He knew exactly why she was here, how tortured she felt. And was free of judgment or accusation.

At last, she stood up to her feet, put her hand to his shoulder and held her lips against his, quickly but fully. Then she said, “C’mon, we’re almost there.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Cyrus’ anxiety filled the Dionysian’s bridge like thick smoke. He sat with his legs propped up on the console, tapping his index finger against the chair arm as he talked to Quin on the COMM.

“Shouldn’t be much longer, they’re almost to the vent,” he told her in his best impression of casualness. If the Dionysian was going to be working with Quin more often (and apparently they were), the last thing he needed was her to know how nervous she made him. Usually, Fiearius handled all communication with her.

But she sounded rather uneasy herself. “I’ve got fifty bodies out here and there’s only so many places they can hide,” she snapped, her voice cracking like a whip through the speaker.

Cyrus took a deep breath. “As long as they stay out of the camera range I gave you–”

“I ain’t worried about no cameras, sweetheart. I’m worried someone in this base is gonna have the mind to take a little morning stroll, you got me?”

“Right,” Cyrus agreed, frowning down at the map on the screen that showed the three blinking dots of each raiding party. “That would be bad.”

“Sure as hell would,” she growled. “So what I’d like is for you to get on the line with Soliveré and you tell him to hurry his lanky ass into that vent and let’s get this started, alright? You got that?”

“Right, yep,” Cyrus said obediently. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“No no, you don’t understand me, boy,” Quin barked back. “I don’t wanna see what you can do. I want you to do what I said. And if you got half a brain in ya, you’d do it now.”

“Of course, but I don’t think I can–”

“And I don’t care what you think either. Just get this door open, ya hear?”

Cyrus rolled his eyes. Though he was probably the safest member of  this operation, ten miles away from the action on a spaceship, he was beginning to wonder whether or not he would have preferred to be crawling through Society vents right about now. “Of course, right away, ma’am,” he muttered. There was a noise of indignation starting to come through the speaker before he switched it off. Well, that was one down. On to the next.

He hit the button. “Uh…Dez?”

“Yes, Cyrus,” came the stony response from the speaker.

He glanced at the screen. “Your team’s in position, correct?”

“Yes, Cyrus.”

“And they’re staying out of camera range?”

“Yes, Cyrus.”

“Great.” He grimaced. He had never particularly liked talking to Dez, but he especially had trouble with it following four years of him trying to murder them. “So. Everything’s okay then?”

There was a long pause before the speaker finally replied, “Yes, Cyrus.”

He switched off the COMM. That just left Fiearius and Leta who had, judging by the map, finally reached the base.  He was just about to hit connect when something else popped up on the radar screen. His finger paused mid-push.

It was a ship coming in. He looked to the window and could just barely make it out on the horizon. Small, sleek and black by the looks of it. He’d seen this kind of ship before plenty of times back on Satieri. A top of the line destroyer the Society seemed to reserve for elite agents. It was the kind of ship Dez had piloted before his betrayal. But what didn’t make sense was why it was here. The sight of it made his stomach turn over.

His finger finished the push. “Fiear?”

On the other side of the line, there was a grunt, a crack and a thud that sounded suspiciously like a human body hitting concrete. Worried, he asked again, “Fiear?!”

“All good, lil’ brother,” came his sibling’s breathless but remarkably calm voice. “Just taking care of a minor obstacle. We’re inside the base. Heading for the doors now.”

“Wait, there’s something–there’s a ship coming in.”

The line went still. Finally, it was Leta who replied, “Does it have a visual on the other teams? Can it see any of us?”

Well shit, he hadn’t even thought of that. Hurriedly, he scanned over the map, but the ship he’d seen wouldn’t have been anywhere near the right angle to spot a couple groups of raiders hiding beneath the jungle canopy.

“N-no,” he decided at last. “No, they’re still out of sight.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Fiearius asked, his tone sharp and impatient.

“It’s a Society A-class destroyer,” Cyrus explained hurriedly. “This is a skirmish base. It doesn’t make sense for it to be here.”

“No offense, Cy, but I’m not really concerned with what kind of ship vs. what kind of base right now.”

Cyrus bristled with frustration. “I don’t think you understand, this kind of ship has no purpose here.”

“It’s a Society ship docking in a Society base, what’s to understand?”

“I’m sure there’s a simple explanation, Cy,” Leta put in.

“Maybe, but–”

“Is it a threat to the mission?” Fiearius asked starkly.

“It could be,” Cyrus argued at once, but there was a pit of doubt forming in his stomach. The ship had made him immediately uneasy, but maybe he was just being paranoid. It didn’t seem to make sense, but what did he know about what was normal on Society bases anyway? Perhaps Leta was right. Perhaps there was a simple explanation.

“But…it might not be,” he admitted after a moment.

“Alright, I get it,” Addy laughed. “But not all dreams are realistic? What do you want to be doing then?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, now. If you could be doing anything now. Or be in any place.”

“Uh. Let’s see.” Cyrus scrunched up his face in thought. “Honestly? Home.”

The only sound came from the metallic turning of the engine.

“I’d be in Paradiex, designing ships,” he went on, his tone quiet, a little hesitant as though not sure if this was an appropriate topic to bring up. But after a moment, his voice raised warmly and a mischievous smirk danced across his face . “The best ships ever designed,” he added. “Breaking down technological barriers on a daily basis.”

Addy chuckled. “That so?”

“I’d start up my own firm maybe,” he continued, making a frame with his fingers that he squinted through. “Turn away any clients that weren’t pushing boundaries. Oh and I’d live in a state of the art loft over 8th Avenue with a huge workshop of course.”

“That sounds lovely.”

He grinned. “And I’d be making keynote speeches at all the top conferences. Companies would be dying to get my opinion on their latest projects. Engineers would be begging for consultation. People would be swarming me in the streets, asking for autographs — ”

At that, Addy couldn’t contain her laughter. “A celebrity. Right, of course.”

He too chuckled. “What? Not all dreams are realistic, right? What about you? What would you be doing?”

Addy gnawed her bottom lip, her eyes sweeping up toward the ceiling. “Umm, about the same, probably. I’d like to take over my dad’s shop for real.”

“Uh-oh. You’ll be my competition then.”

“Competition? I was thinking we could collaborate.”

For an awkward but happy moment, they both simply grinned at each other. Then Addy said, “D’ya think it’ll ever be possible? Going back to Satieri?”

Cyrus slipped his hands in his pockets, his eyes roaming over the floor. “I don’t know. As it stands right now, I definitely can’t. Maybe if things change. I’d like not to give up on it. Even though the Society makes the prospects a little grim…”

“Right.” Addy’s voice softened. “The Society.”

Cyrus lifted his eyes to meet hers, regret in his face. And then, abruptly, he slapped his hand against his forehead. “Oh gods, I’m so stupid. I forgot why I even came by to begin with. I have something for you.”

Addy was grateful for the sudden change in topic. “You what?” she asked, but Cyrus had already brushed past her toward the main console screen, his fingers flying madly over the keys.

“Hey, are you trespassing right now?” she asked, only half jokingly as she slid off the stool and joined him.

“I figured it out,” he explained as he tapped away at the screen. “I thought of it a long time ago, but there was a hang-up and I couldn’t get it to work, but after what you said, I got it. I figured it out.”

Addy eyed him, confused. “Figured what out?”

“The route,” he answered at once as though this made sense, not taking his eyes from the console. “The route around the roadblocks. It was just a matter of redirecting it to the right places and avoiding the monitored connections. I just need to install this–”

Addy was still lost. “Install what?”

He tapped one final screen and swiped it away. “There,” he deemed proudly, sitting back. “It’s so simple, I don’t know why I never thought of it before. But it’ll work on your CID now, for all outgoing and incoming calls.” He grinned at her. “It’ll make sure the Society can’t listen in or track the source. You can talk to your dad whenever you want.”

Addy couldn’t tear her eyes from the glowing screen.

“You made this?” Her voice wavered with emotion. “So I could talk to my dad. You made this for me?”

In the corner of her eye, she saw Cyrus nod. Heavy silence blanketed over them and Cyrus hurried to fill it.

“Hey, listen, if you don’t want to use it — that’s completely — ” but she didn’t give him the chance to finish. Before she could think, she turned to Cyrus, raised herself to tip-toe, seized the collar of shirt and pulled him in to press the full of her lips against his.

He must’ve been too shocked to move. Even his arms still hung at his sides. Addy held her lips against his, warm and affectionate, and then gently drew back, letting out a an embarrassed, breathless laugh. His face wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“Oh gods. I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly, taking a step back. “I’m just so grateful — “

Cyrus looked utterly dazed. His mouth hung open and his glasses slid down his nose. Just as Addy said, “Really, I’m sor — “ he cut her off and blurted out, “Do you wanna go to dinner with me?”

Addy realized she was still holding his collar. She unclasped her fingers. “What?”

“Dinner. You and me. Out to dinner. Want to? Not tonight. I have to be back for that — but next time. Next time I can convince Fiear to meet up with the Beacon again.”

Addy drew her brow together. “I thought you said it was his decision to come here because –”

“I lied,” he admitted. A small smile was threatening to break over his face.

The smile was contagious. “Well, in that case…yes,” she said. “I would love to go out to dinner with you next time.”

“I’ll go.” Leta dropped her hand to her side, her bright green eyes lighting up. “I’ll go through the vents. I’ll do it.”

Fiearius was not surprised at all to see Leta volunteer. After learning the truth behind her mother’s death, she hadn’t been herself: sometimes she didn’t speak for hours, but retreated to his room, dug through data on the consoles, and conducted research, silent and surly. Other times, she paced around him and burst in angry tirades about the Society and what they’d done.

Fiearius navigated her grief as best as he knew how. He didn’t know how he could possibly help.

Besides going after them. He knew Leta wasn’t being flippant in volunteering for the more active role in this mission and though it wasn’t the safest, he wouldn’t deny her it. He wouldn’t deny her the revenge she craved.

He met her gaze steadily and nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

“There’s a bigger issue here,” Dez said suddenly. “We fly anywhere near that base, they’ll know we’re coming.”

“Ah, but therein lies the genius,” Fiearius mused. He folded his arms and leaned back against the console. “The Carthians know which moon Blackwater is on. They just don’t know where. About once a week they do a systematic bombing of the surrounding area in order to suss it out. We land during their attack–”

“Their radars will be scattered,” Cyrus realized. “We’ll blend right in.” At last, he looked interested and impressed, but Dez remained unphased.

“They’ll still be able to see us.”

“Right. Which is why — “ Fiearius reached over and circled a spot on the screen, some distance from the mountain, “ — we’ll park far away.”

The room grew quiet as they all gazed at the screen, the light reflecting across their faces. Finally, Leta asked, “Then what?”

“Then we walk,” said Fiearius, as though this was obvious.

Cyrus frowned at the map, knitting his brow. “Through ten miles of heavy jungle?”

“Well, yeah — “

“Jungle?” muttered Dez.

“Yeah, we’ll do it in two parts. Camp one night, make the attack early in the morning.”

“Camp?” Leta scrunched her face in disgust. “Like, in tents?”

Fiearius shot her look of surprise, then looked around at them all in disbelief. “Seriously? We’re planning an attack on a Society base and this is the part you guys have a problem with? Get over it, this is what we’re doing. All that’s left is to pick a place to meet up with Quin and organize.”

“Relara,” put in Cy suddenly and all eyes turned to him. “We should stop there. It’s easy to get to, it’s close to where we’re headed. And the Beacon will be there. I need to give them something. Something for the engine. It’s just a part, but it’s kind of hard to find so–”

But Fiearius lifted his hand, interrupting his rambly explanation. He didn’t need it. “Fine by me. I’ll send over the coordinates.”

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

The Beacon, in all of her splendor, always had the smoothest landing sequence Addy could imagine of a ship her size — even when her pilot was suffering from a concussion. Once the ship had lowered safely to the ground of Relara, Addy darted around the engine room, double-checking the readings on the console screens, only to find it was another successful docking. On a planet she’d never been and never thought she’d ever be able to travel to. Every time they landed at a new place, her heart leapt.

In the hallway, footsteps pounded down the stairs. Finn always stopped by to double-check on the engine after docking, so Addy started speaking over her shoulder.

“Hey Finn, do ya mind glancing over the A-thrusters upstairs? I think we might be — “

But when Addy turned around, it wasn’t Finn in the doorway. It was, of all unlikely people, Cyrus. He was leaning his elbow on the doorframe in a manner that looked a little uncomfortable, a nervous smile darting across his face.

Addy’s mouth fell open. “Cy? What’re you doing here?”

“I’m surprisingly full of it.” He unleashed a charming grin that fell off his face instantly. “Wait. No. Full of surprises. I’m full of surprises, I mean.” He stepped into the room, catching his hand through his untidy hair. “Actually, Relara’s close to our next job so Fiear wanted to stop here and regroup,” he explained, his tone now completely casual. “Since the Beacon’s here too, thought I’d swing by and say hello.” He paused next to the engine and turned to her with an awkward smile. “Hello.”

Addy clapped her palm over her mouth, but it did little to hide her grin. “Hi.”

Apparently, he was here for a friendly visit, because before she could say ask anything else, he turned away to admire the main core of the engine. “Did you ever get that clattering fixed? I tried to pick you up something to fix it, but — ” he grimaced at the memory of that particular port visit. “Well. Bounty hunters.”

“What? Bounty hunters?” Addy repeated, unsure if she should laugh or not. “Gods, your life is weird. The only exciting thing I did today was replace the batteries in our COMM devices.”

“Hey, I’d take that any day over bounty hunters.” He tilted his head at the engine, then swept a hand in her direction. “I’m not the only one with a weird life though. Look at you. Maybe you just replaced batteries, but you replaced them on a stolen Society ship currently engaged in black market vessel dealing.”

“Yeah, well. Some days are more exciting than others.” Biting down on her bottom lip, Addy lowered onto a nearby stool, still unable to take her eyes off of the man who was now wandering around the engine, gazing at it with admiration in his eyes. “Bet you never thought you’d end up grappling with bounty hunters, huh.”

He laughed, once. “Hardly. I never even imagined leaving Satieri.”

“Really? No childhood aspirations to be the most fearsome space pirate in the span?”

Cyrus cast her a pointed look. Then he spread his arms and nodded down at him: he was not quite 5’11, pale like he had not seen the sun in a year, and with engine oil staining his shirt.

“Corra — “ Finn heard himself grit out, but Mica pressed the bat against Finn’s throat and unleashed a grin.

“Riley, look. It’s your faithful little kroppie. I didn’t think she’d show. Types like her are more apt to run off aren’t they?” He laughed, and then cocked his head at Corra with an eerie light in his eyes. “But since you’re here. I’m going to assume you have my money?”

Corra narrowed her glare. “I’m going to assume you didn’t hear me,” she growled. “Drop. Him.”

All the good humor suddenly vanished from Mica’s face. His expression clouded and his mouth twitched. “As you wish,” he breathed, and abruptly he took Finn by the shoulder and shoved him to the ground, a heap of limbs.

Every inch of him felt bruised and beaten. Head spinning, Finn pulled himself up to his elbows, squinting in the darkness at the scene that was quickly growing dim.

But he could just make out Corra’s face. She was gazing at him, horrified.

Mica edged a step closer, holding the bat at his side. “So what is it then, slave girl?” he asked. “Walk right in here with a couple rifles and nothing to offer? You’re outnumbered, outmatched and out of ideas by the look of it.”

“Oh I have one idea,” Corra muttered. Finn saw her finger tightening on the trigger, but Mica snorted in amusement.

“You can’t kill me. What would Callahan say? Callahan’s an idiot for hiring your type to begin with, but I doubt even he will hire a kroppie who’s keen on killing his associates.” Even now, Finn could feel the power of his smirk. “And neither would anyone else.”

Mica, however, was just warming up. He nodded to the two other men in the room. “So why don’t you two just put down those guns before you do something you’ll regret,” he suggested as the men started to close in on them. Corra’s friend was glancing at her, looking for guidance.

“If you play your cards right, maybe, just maybe I’ll let you walk out of here alive,” Mica was going on. “I’m not an unreasonable man. I can let bygones be bygones.”

“Corra…” her friend muttered, stepping backwards toward her.

“Once I’ve extracted full payment of course,” Mica grinned, whacking Finn with his foot. And suddenly there was a light behind Corra’s eyes. She wasn’t frozen, Finn realized, she was thinking. She locked stares with him and gestured ever so slightly towards Mica. Well, Finn thought, he’d just have to trust her. And with a deep inhale of breath, he seized Mica’s leg.

The man let out a disgusted, “What?” and had already lifted his leg in an attempt to kick him off when a mighty battle cry filled the basement and Corra barreled towards them to crack the butt of her rifle into his face.

Blood splattered across the wall as Mica doubled over, but he bounced back up and delivered a firm right hook into Corra’s eye. As she stumbled backwards, Finn sensed his opportunity and reached up to drag Mica down. Corra, looking up, bewildered, took her chance and smacked him again with the gun.

This time, he tumbled over easily as Corra spun around and, swinging the rifle like a bat, knocked it into a second man’s head. Her friend, who had apparently taken her cue, was already slamming her foot on top of the third on the floor when Finn managed to turn to her.

He only got a second to register the image before Corra was yanking him up and pushing him towards the stairs by the small of his back. Her companion, whose height was close to rivaling his own, slipped her arm under his and helped him climb back towards the light.

Corra spun back around to the basement, moving backwards and brandishing her gun as Mica and his men started to recover from the quick and violent assault. As soon as they reached the upper level and were away from the door, they heard him cry, “After them!”

Slinging her gun over her back, Corra hurried to catch up with the hobbling pair. “Hurry,” she cried breathlessly. “Run!”

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

Finn felt his feet moving on the ground, and he knew his arm was slung over a woman’s shoulder, and he could see Corra running ahead of him through the alleyways — but other than that, very little was making sense. He just knew they was going somewhere. Quickly. But where?

He must’ve mumbled the question aloud, because suddenly the tattooed woman tightened her hold on his arm and said, “The Beacon. We’re going back to your ship, Finn. The Beacon. Are you alright?”

“Loud and clear,” he said quickly. “I mean — yes. Who are you again?”

“My name’s Alyx. I was on the Dionysian a year ago.”

“That’s a shame.”

“You’ve no idea. Now c’mon, we’re almost there.”

Corra hung back, stopping so she could take his other arm and throw it around her neck. “Hang in there, Riley. We’re almost to the ship. You can pass out there as long as you want.”

“In your bed?”

Corra cracked a wry grin. “Nice try. We’re almost there. Just a little further  — “

Even now, even in his own haze of confusion, Finn recognized his ship. He’d recognize her anywhere. Parked on the docks, three stories of perfect shining metal. Gods, it felt like ages since he’d sat in the pilot’s chair. He felt eager to do it again. Except —

“Wait,” Finn heard himself mumble. “Who’re they?”

A crowd of people had formed outside the Beacon’s ramp. At least twenty peopled stood tall, guns raised, forming a line. A barrier.

“Oh god,” Alyx breathed in his ear. “It’s the Ministry gang.”

“What are they doing here?” Corra groaned.

“Probably looking for me,” said Alyx, sounding shaken. “I told you they wouldn’t let me just walk out of there so easily. Someone must have seen you, found out which ship is yours. They’re here to take me back. Oh god.” She brought her free hand to her forehead, panic starting to set through her. “They’ll sell me to the ally traders this time. I’m sure of it.”

“We’re not letting that happen,” Corra said firmly. “Okay? We’ll figure this out, we’ll–”

From what Finn could discern (he was operating on a slight delay), the situation had just gone from bad to worse, especially when a shout of ‘There they are!” rang out behind them. All three heads spun around to see Mica, nursing his broken bleeding nose and flanked by his angry henchmen, guns raised.

“Move,” said Corra, her voice shaking. “Move — we have to get to the ship — !”

“What about them?” said Alyx, pointing toward the line of gang members.

“Cross that bridge when we come to it?”

All at once, the Ministry gang cocked their rifles, a sea of scowling, angry faces.

“I think we’ve come to it!” Alyx cried.

The three of them were forced to a stumbling, staggering halt, caught between groups of two armed aggressors, both looking ready to tear them all apart.

But then — it was the strangest thing — the scene started to dissolve. Finn told himself to focus, to think of what they could possibly do, but his vision was growing clouded with white light. Corra’s voice wound toward his ears, but it sounded like she was at the end of a long tunnel (“No no no, stay with us, keep it together, Riley!”). The last sound he heard was the piercing blast of a gunshot before he sank to the ground.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

” … And that’s how I ended up in the military,” Finn finished, leaning one elbow on the bar. With his other hand he tilted a glass of dark beer to his mouth and regarded the young woman standing across from him. She had long dark hair flowing down her back and a kind smile, though in this moment she looked at him rather skeptically over the rim of her glass.

“Mm, you don’t seem like the military type,” she said. Finn grinned.

“Turns out I’m not.”

“Is that why you’re here? Who did you say you were looking for again?”

“Ah — right.” Finn’s attention was slipping further and further away from the job. Something about being back home was making it hard to focus on anything but the beer in his hand and the pretty woman across from him; he could feel himself falling back into his old familiar habits.

But they had work to do. He took another drink but centered his attention. “Lookin’ for a woman named Elena. She works here, supposedly, though I can’t find her. Lives near the eastern docks. You heard of her?”

“Sort of sounds familiar.” The woman’s expression shifted. “You lookin’ to cause her trouble?”

“No, no. The opposite, actually. Trying to help her out.” Finn hoped that was true. He actually had no idea why Quin wanted this woman so badly.

“Good.” The woman pursed her lips. “Well, maybe she — “

“Hey!” came a sudden voice in his ear. Finn straightened up at once and realized it was the bartender barking at him, pointing a gnarled finger at his chest. “You Riley? Finn Riley?”

He arched a lone eyebrow. “Afraid so.”

“Good,” the bartender grunted. “Someone in the back is lookin’ for ya.”

Finn lowered his glass, feeling curious. Was it Corra, scolding him for his lack of work ethic? Elena herself, catching wind of strangers looking for her? Or maybe an old friend. He had a handful of them in this town. After assuring the woman he’d be right back, no problem, stay right there, would ya, darlin’?, Finn weaved his way to the back room of the bar.

It was much quieter here. The tables were empty. For a moment, Finn thought he’d walked into the wrong place, but when he turned back for the door, he found it had been slammed shut.

A man clutching an assault rifle blocked the exit.

His hand jumped to the pistol tucked into the small of his back, but he too slow: the man struck the end of the rifle across Finn’s face with such blinding force that his vision went black.

– – – — – – — – – — – – — – – — – – — – – — – – — – – –

“It wasn’t your place. I was fine. I was taking care of it,” Alyx snapped, standing in the center of the room as Quin paced circles around her.

“Taking care of it? Sure as hell didn’t look like you were taking care of it,” Quin barked back at her to which Alyx rolled her eyes for the tenth time in this conversation. Corra stood quietly and patiently off to the side of Quin’s office, still reeling from this revelation. At first, she couldn’t believe it. How could Quin and Alyx be related? It was just so farfetched. And yet as soon as she’d gotten them in the same room together, all the doubt had been wiped from her mind.

“It was only a few months. Then they were going to let me go.”

Quin stopped her pacing and eyed the girl in alarm. “Tell me you’re not naive enough to believe that.”

Alyx groaned in frustration. “Fine, but what right did you have to pull others into it? If you wanted to help so badly, why wasn’t it you in that bar getting me out? Hell, why wasn’t it Aeneas? Or any of your little pawns?”

Quin’s stare grew stony. “You know perfectly well why it wasn’t.”

“Right, god forbid someone find out I’m your daughter. Every bad guy in the Span will descend upon me and at once, of course,” Alyx mocked and Quin’s eyes went wide, glancing quickly at Corra.

“Relax, I already told her,” Alyx muttered which only earned her another glare. “And on that note, why the hell get Corra involved? Now she’s gonna have the Ministry against her. I can’t think of anyone who deserves that less.”

“I don’t really mind,” Corra put in quietly, but Quin was already talking over her.

“I sent her because I thought she might actually have some chance of getting through to you. I sent her because I knew she would get you out no matter what. And I sent her because she has a ship that can take you away from here.”

Alyx’s mouth dropped open and she started shaking her head. “Oh no no. No. You’re not just sending me off again. No.”

“Well ya damn well can’t stay here,” Quin said. “The Ministry will come looking and I can’t protect you.” She frowned bitterly. “Nor do you want me to apparently.” She looked to Corra. “You got room on your ship for one more don’tcha?”

“Uh yeah,” Corra agreed because she didn’t really see a choice otherwise. It had taken all of ten seconds with these two to realize it was best to just sit and listen.

“Good. Then you’ll go on the Beacon,” Quin decided.

“Don’t I have any say in this?” Alyx demanded. “I don’t want to be on another ship. I just want to be in one place, settle down, get a job, meet some people and not have trouble coming at me from all directions.”

Quin’s frown cracked into a look of pity. “Ah honey, trouble’s gonna follow you no matter where you go.” Alyx groaned in defeat and fell back onto a couch, slumping over and putting her head in her hands. Carefully, Quin went over to her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Which is exactly why I want you on a ship. At least there you’ve got a shot to outrun it.”

Alyx was quiet for a moment before shrugging her mother’s hand off of her indignantly. “I want to choose which ship then,” she bit.

But just when things started to seem like they were getting better, Quin shook her head. “No,” she said abruptly.

“Why not?” Alyx demanded, standing up again.

“Because the last ship you chose to board sold you off to a gang.”

“Right, and because what happened on the Dionysian, the last ship you chose for me to board, was so much better,” Alyx snapped and the room suddenly silenced.

An image of Ludo filled Corra’s mind. She felt a lump form in her throat that she couldn’t swallow. The urge to bolt from the room was overpowering.

Unfortunately, she also felt glued to the floor where she stood. She sort of wished Finn were here for this, if only for solidarity. Then she wouldn’t have been the only person to bear witness to this mess.

Finally, Quin broke the silence. She turned from her daughter and moved away to the window. “Fine. Do as ya please. I ain’t gonna force you.”

Alyx watched her for a long moment, her expression softening. But it wasn’t to Quin that she spoke. “I’m sorry, Corra,” she said, turning to her. “I’m sure the Beacon’s a great ship, I just — I don’t want to go back to that life. I don’t want the running or the violence or the danger. I don’t want to ever pick up a gun again. I just want peace.” She frowned sadly. “Know what I mean?”

The implication wasn’t exactly a flattering one, but Corra didn’t feel offended. She knew exactly what Alyx meant. And regardless of what her mother may have wanted, Corra knew what she had to do.

“Totally,” she said softly. “That’s part of why I left the Dionysian too.” She smiled sweetly and then added with a laugh, “Except the gun part. But on the Beacon, we don’t really do much shootin’. Least not yet anyways. Got no one chasin’ us so no one to run from. Hardly any violence. Some of our crew haven’t shot a gun in their lives and probably never will. There’s always danger I suppose. But least there’s not danger of our ship fallin’ out of the sky.”

Corra tried not to meet Quin’s eye even though she was watching her intently. The last thing she wanted was for either of them to think she was doing this for any reason other than helping a friend in need. “I won’t be mad if you don’t wanna come with us,” she went on. “But if you are lookin’ for a ship, the Beacon’s a good one.” She smiled. “I think you’d like it.”

Again the room dipped into quiet as Alyx watched Corra with interest, the wheels of thought clearly turning in her head. But before she could ever give her answer, a chime dinged from Corra’s pocket. Puzzled, she pulled out her COMM to find a new message waiting for her. A new message from Addy.

What could her engineer possibly need? Corra glanced over her words, ready to discard the message. But then her insides froze with fear.

It must have shown on her face because Alyx asked, “What’s wrong? You okay?”

But Corra couldn’t speak. This couldn’t be happening. Her mouth dropped open. It was only when Quin snapped, “Out with it, girl,” that she stammered aloud what Addy had written.

“Finn was taken,” said Corra, her voice shaking so badly she could barely talk. “Mica. Mica’s the guy we met with our last job — Finn punched him and now — now they took him. They sent a message to the Beacon, saying they’ve — they’re going to — “

“Finn Riley?” Quin interrupted, her voice measured. Her mouth twitched unpleasantly. “Pity.”

Panicked, Corra shoved the COMM back into her pocket and started back for the door, though she had no idea where her feet were taking her.

She’d nearly made it out before Alyx had swept through the room and suddenly shoved a rifle into Corra’s hands. “Then let’s go get him.”

Corra stared at her, confused. “But you just said you never wanted to–”

“One last time,” Alyx said. “It was for me that you two were out there at all. I’m at least partially responsible. So. One last time before you take me away into retirement.” She smiled bitterly. “Let’s go get your friend back.”

“Elena?” she asked, daring to let a little hope seep through her voice.

“Yeah?” was the immediate response and Corra felt a gracious wave of relief. Finally, they’d found her. Soon enough she could get out of this junky part of town and get on with finishing the job.

But as the woman straightened up and turned to face her, Corra’s relief evaporated. She felt a wave of shock.

Elena, as it turned out, was more familiar than she had imagined.

“Alyx?!” Corra gasped, her eyes widening on the teal-haired, tattooed woman who Corra recognized at once.

Immediately, Alyx — Elena? — grimaced and clapped a hand over Corra’s mouth with one hand.

“Elena,” corrected Alyx with a sharp, pointed look. “It’s Elena.” She glanced sidelong to ensure no one else had heard and slowly lowered her hand from Corra’s mouth.

“Sorry,” Corra muttered carefully, feeling bewildered. “Elena.”

Corra certainly had never known her by this name. Years ago, Alyx had been a deckhand aboard the Dionysian. Corra had always been fond of her (although not quite as fond as Cyrus had been), but then Alyx had disappeared off the ship entirely. She’d left without explanation.

Later, Corra had found out exactly why. Alyx had been among Ludo’s victims. It had been heartbreaking to learn. Thank the gods Leta had uncovered Ludo for what he was. And thank the gods Fiearius had ended him for it.

In this moment, Corra felt too shocked to make sense of what Alyx was doing in a Genisian bar with an unfamiliar name. “How — why — what?” she said blankly.

“C’mon,” Alyx said quickly, nodding toward a door. “We can talk out here.”

Alyx — Elena — led them out the back door of the bar and into a narrow, dark alley.

As soon as the back door fell shut behind them, Corra couldn’t contain herself. “What’s going on? Who’s Elena? What are you doing here? Why are you working in a bar?Last I heard you were halfway across the Span. What happened?”

Alyx shook her head and held up her hands. “Whoa there, slow down, tiger. One thing at a time.”

Corra pursed her lips seriously. There were so many questions flooding  through her head. Finally, she settled on, “Okay, why are you on Archeti?”

Alyx regarded her for a moment sadly before finally she released a sigh and started to explain. “It started after the ‘incident’.” The way she emphasized the word made it clear just what incident she was talking about. Or rather, just who had been incidentally murdered when the Dionysian had last been in Alyx’s vicinity. “Shortly after you left, people started coming by my work asking about the Dionysian. I don’t know who they were. Just…people. I wasn’t that worried until one of them showed up at my apartment.” She shook her head. “It spooked me so I decided to leave. Come back to Archeti. I was born here, raised here, I thought I could get my bearings and make a new plan.”

Her expression grew dark. “Unfortunately, I got on the wrong passenger ship. I thought choosing a fake name to travel by would keep me safe, but it turned out it didn’t matter. As soon as we landed, they rounded us up, took everything we owned and handed us over to the Ministry.” She cast a dirty glare at one of the red gang signs painted on a nearby wall.

Corra’s eyes grew wide. “Handed you over? To bus tables at their shitty bar?”

Alyx shrugged. “It was this or end up with an ally trader.” Fleetingly, she glanced at Corra’s ear but looked away at once. “This seemed the better choice.”

Of course, Corra would have to agree, but only barely. Most of her wanted to turn back into the bar, find whoever had done this to her and introduce their face to the end of a stool. But she had a task to do and beating up Genisian gangs wasn’t part of it. At least, not yet. “So you’re stuck here? What’ll happen if you try to leave? Just sneak out when no one’s looking? Can’t you just go?”

“Probably, but if I’m gone too long, if someone notices?” She shook her head sadly. “I’ve got another three months left ‘til I’ve ‘earned’ my freedom according to the Ministry. They’ll come after me. I’m sure of it. They may not look like much, but I’ve seen what they can do and it’s not pretty. If they catch me running off? I really will end up with an ally trader.”

“Then we won’t let them catch you,” Corra insisted at once.

Strangely, Alyx laughed. “Hang on, step back a minute. You can’t expect me to believe you’re actually here to rescue me. You didn’t even know I was here! You were looking for Elena. Why?”

“Honestly, I don’t know exactly. We were just sent here to look for her–you–and–”

Alyx’s eyes had narrowed in suspicion. “Sent? Who sent you?”

“Quinida Utada. Do you know her?” But Alyx was already rolling her eyes, her hands on her hips.

“Of course it was her,” Alyx sighed. “Of course. Let me guess. She wants you to take me back to her?” Corra nodded. “Pretend she’s the knight in shining armor, saving me from the terrible gang? And dragging innocents into the mess to do it for her.” She groaned in frustration. “The nerve of it.”

At this point, Alyx started pacing the width of the alley, looking angry and mumbling to herself. Corra, for her part, was confused.

“Sorry,” said Corra carefully, “but I’m lost.”

Finally, Alyx stopped and the frustration in her expression faded into apology. “God, Corra, no I’m sorry.” She took a step back towards her. “You shouldn’t be here. These people are dangerous. This isn’t your problem.”

“Actually, it is my problem,” Corra corrected, frustrated herself now as well. She would never have predicted convincing Alyx to escape indentured servitude would be difficult.

“It’s not,” Alyx insisted. “Why are you helping Quin anyway? What happened?”

Feeling somewhat exposed, she shrugged. “I just need something from her, that’s all. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving you here.”

“I don’t want her help, Corra,” Alyx snapped.

“It’s not her help you’re getting, it’s mine.”

Alyx met her stern stare, finally softening. “Oh Corra…” she muttered sadly.

“I’m not stepping out of this alley without you, understand? Sure I only came because she told me to, but I’m here now, you’re my friend and I’m invested. I’m taking you with me. End of story.”

Alyx lifted a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. “You always were stubborn, weren’t you?” Corra grinned proudly. Finally, she relented. “Fine. Since I know there’s no way I’m getting out of this. I accept your brave and daring rescue.”

Satisfied, Corra smiled and then turned back for the door, slipping inside to retrieve Finn.

Except Finn wasn’t at this post at the bar. The woman he was with was gone, too. Had they left together?

This time, Corra decided to let him have his fun. She could handle the rest of this without him, surely. She turned back to Alyx and nodded down the alley.

“We don’t have to go see Quin,” she told her carefully, rather hoping they would anyway. “If you don’t want.”

“Nah, I’d hate for you to go through all this trouble and not even get what you need out of it,” Alyx sighed. “I’ll go with you. As long as we make it quick.”

Well that was a relief. But she had to know. “Why does she want to rescue you so much anyway?”

Alyx looked down at her with a dark sort of smirk. “Because she’s my mother.”

– – – — – – — – – — – – — – – — – – — – – –