“Pardon, cap’n,” he chimed, seizing her arms before she could collide with him. “Where you off to in such a hurry?”

“Riley, I’m not going–I need to–” Corra began, her words coming out too quickly. She heaved a deep breath. It didn’t help. “Look, you’ll–will you–I’ve been thinking about what to do–I know you said–but maybe–I don’t know if–”

Finn squeezed her arms, cutting her off, and smiled. “Cap’n, you know. No matter what, I’ve got your back all the way through this.”

Corra felt a warm relief flood her chest and her face lit up. “Thank you. ‘Cause I think I might do something rash…”

———————

Exhausted, Alyx slumped on the floor and did nothing but watch with widened eyes as Kalli danced around the room, nearly knocking sideways into furniture. The little girl had already torn excitedly through Alyx’s trunks, pulling out things she found interesting: books, shoes, knickknacks …

Now draped in layers of clothing around her neck (she insisted on wearing “scarves like A’iya Leta”), Kalli spun in circles, belting a song at the top of her lungs.

“Hey, lil tornado,” Alyx called, over the noise. “Mind keeping your voice to a dull roar? Some people like to nap on this ship.”

“I don’t,” Kalli cried happily. “I hate naps!”

“I’ve noticed,” Alyx snorted, watching as Kalli already abandoned her singing and went onto her next task, which was climbing up Alyx’s bed.

Behind her, the door slid open and Alyx looked up to find Daelen hanging on the frame and looking down at her in pity.

“You doing okay in here?” he asked, smiling at Alyx. Kalli jumped on the bed and yelled, “O’rian Daelen!”

“We’re surviving,” Alyx replied. She never thought she’d become a babysitter, but she had to admit she was growing a soft spot for Kalli’s spunk. Still. “I get that Cy and Addy need some time to patch things up, or whatever they’re doing–”

“I think you know what they’re doing,” Daelen chuckled, leaning against the wall and sliding down to a sit beside her.

“–And I’m happy to help them out, of course,” Alyx went on, but not before nudging Daelen with her elbow scoldingly. Across the room, Kalli reached the top of Alyx’s loft bed, stood up as tall as she could, wielded a hairbrush she’d stolen from the bathroom as a sword and shouted, “I am queen of all the land!”

Alyx could do nothing but sigh and drop her head onto her chest. “But at some point I’m gonna need a break.”

Daelen nodded along in agreement, his fingers gently tugging on his beard as he watched the little girl battle an unseen force threatening her rulership. “You know, I brought up the curiosity of two very reserved people such as Cyrus and Adrasteia producing such an energetic child to Admiral Soliveré.” Alyx lifted her head to see Daelen frown in thought. “He told me about a supposed ‘Soliveré Curse’ in which the first born child in all of their family’s history is always a little…odd, for lack of a better word. I’m not usually one to believe such ridiculous superstitions, but looking at him versus Cyrus and looking at little Kalli here–”

“I believe it,” Alyx said at once, the mere sight of Kalli now making her eyes feel tired and her temples ache. “I totally, hundred percent believe it.”

Suddenly, the door behind them slid open again and though Alyx hoped it would hold Kalli’s parents, here to take the little monster off her hands, she was just as relieved at the new arrival.

“Cai! You’re back!” she exclaimed, clambering to her feet. “Did it work? Did they let you in?”

He looked reluctant to admit it, but in the end he nodded. “Fine. Just this once. You were right, it worked. But this is the last time, I’m serious.”

“And it’s the last time I’ll ask, I promise.” Alyx clutched her hands in front of her anxiously. Corra had managed to send the Beacon messages insisting that she was fine, they need not worry, don’t bother with a rescue mission, she’s got this under control, but Alyx had remained unconvinced. She wanted visual proof and an actual plan of attack. “So. What’s going on?”

Cai shrugged and leaned against the doorway, his eyes lingering on Kalli’s one-woman show for a moment before answering, “Not much. They seem fine. The cult is weird, but they treat them well.”

Alyx waited for more but it didn’t come. “And?” Cai lifted his brows at her. “And what now? She can’t stay there forever right? Does she need us to come bust her out yet?”

“No no, she wants to stay and get more answers about the whole–” He waved his hand in the air vaguely. “–Transmitty thing. But there’s some ritual tonight–”

“Ritual?” Daelen asked, just as skeptical as Alyx herself felt.

“Basically they want her to fire the thing up, send the message to the Origin or whatever they’re doing,” Cai explained. He acted like the explanation would soothe their worries. It did the opposite.

“What happens when they do that?” Alyx demanded.

Horribly, Cai again shrugged. “That’s what Corra wants to find out.”

Daelen finally stood up now too. “So she’s going to do it?”

“There’s more reason than that, but yeah it sounded like she was considering it.” Cai looked between the two of them. “I’m guessing you two don’t agree…”

Daelen’s face had gone dark. “Messing with ancient technology haphazardly doesn’t seem safe for any reason. Especially if no one has any idea what will come out of it. They believe it contacts the Origin? That directly opposes one of the critical declarations of the Caelum Lex. The law was written that way for a reason, is breaking it something we really want to do?”

“It’s something the Gatekeepers want to do,” Cai argued. “They think it’ll save the Span. And imagine they’re right, imagine Corra, our Corra, is the prophesized savior of all of us. Think about how much good that could do.”

“Imagine they’re wrong, think about how much bad it could do,” Daelen replied. “She’s really considering this? After–well…” He shot a furtive glance at Alyx. She didn’t need him to say the word. She didn’t need to hear the name of her lost homeworld.

“It’s a risk, sure, but think about all that’s lead to this. Her stumbling across the Transmission, Cy and Addy stumbling across the Transmitter, this whole cult who’ve been waiting for her, her specifically, to show up and put all the pieces together? How could it not mean something?”

“It’s coincidence,” Daelen shot back, logical as ever. “And imposed patterns change nothing. It’s dangerous and the whims of some religious fanatics do not make me feel any better about what’s going to occur when she turns on some ancient machinery.”

“Probably nothing,” Alyx interjected, earning both of their stares. “Come on, let’s be realistic here. It’s ancient. It probably doesn’t do anything. It probably doesn’t even work.”

Cai nodded, as though the argument helped his case. “Where’s the harm in that then?”

Alyx rolled her eyes. “The harm in that is what happens when the crazies who’ve been keeping her captive, the crazies who very nearly killed two of our friends, realize she isn’t their holy prophet there to save them after all.” Both Cai and Daelen grew very quiet for a long moment. The only noise in the room was Kalli’s sound effects from the bed battle.

Until Cai asked, “Okay. So what do we do?”

“We get her and Finn out of there before the whole thing goes to hell,” Alyx answered without skipping a beat.

“How?”

Alyx frowned and found herself looking around the room as she worked it out in her head. Her eyes rested on the little girl, wrapped in scarves and play acting a dramatic scene with all of her heart and energy poured into it. Alyx watched as she stabbed the air with the hairbrush, killing the monster she battled, and raising her hands to the sky for her beloved subjects to cheer for her victory.

Alyx started to smile. “I have an idea.”

“Fine, I suppose.” He settled next to her. “Your new friends seemed to believe us when we promised we won’t be leaving to tell the Span about the Transmitter without you so they left us alone. Cy and Addy are a little shaken up still from the whole experience. They’ve kind of been keeping to themselves and we’ve been taking turns watching Kalli still. Alyx is learning a valuable lesson in patience.”

He shot a cautious glance at the empty room around them before adding, “Not gonna lie though, we’d like our captains back. And safe. And not in the clutches of murderous psychos.”

“They’re not that bad,” Corra insisted. “I’ve been treated a lot worse by people considered a lot less psycho, trust me.” Cai just grimaced in solemn understanding. “I’m determined to stick this through.”

“For how long?”

“If everything goes as I think it should, not much longer.” Corra leaned in closer to him to speak more quietly. “There’s this ritual they need me to do that’ll put me near the Transmitter so I can get the answers I need and maybe some insight into–”

“Hang on,” he interrupted, looking skeptical. “Ritual?”

Which was the same response she’d had when she first heard about it. “It’s not as sketchy as it sounds. It’s just them reading some stuff while I fire up the device.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You’re sure?”

“Well.” She sighed through her teeth. “Not entirely.” She pointed at the door Finn had gone through. “But if it’s not, he has a gun. Two guns.”

Cai frowned at her. “So what’s the plan?”

As true as it was, Corra didn’t think ‘not sure’ was the answer he was looking for. She’d thought it through as much as she could and discussed possibilities with Finn, but there was only so much preparedness she could manage. As much information as she’d tried to garner from the Gatekeepers, she still knew next to nothing about what was going to happen when they started the process. This was going to be a ‘wing it’ situation no matter what. Which was also not an answer Cai probably wanted.

So instead, she said, “I have some ideas,” which didn’t come out nearly as confidently as she’d expected it to.

“Corra–”

“It’ll be fine! I’m adaptable!”

“Corra.” He fixed her with a serious stare.

“Cai, it’s fine. I’m just going to get close to it and steal it,” she explained hurriedly. “And if I don’t have an opportunity, I’ll throw a wrench in their ritual to create a distraction. And if it’s something I can’t just nab and run out with, I’ll know where it is and I can go back for it later. And in all situations, me and Riley run back to the ship and we get the hell out of here. I got this.”

But as much as she’d anticipated him either accepting or arguing that answer, the look he gave her indicated neither. It was more confused. He tilted his head at her, his eyes narrowed curiously. “So. You’re not going to do the ritual no matter what?”

The question surprised her. “I–I’d considered it,” she admitted. After all, what she wanted was answers. What did the Transmitter do? What did the Transmission say? Why was it so important? What better way to answer all those questions than to actually test it? The ritual, if she went through with it, would give her all the answers she needed.

But “Riley doesn’t think it’s a good idea. And he’s not wrong. We have no idea what happens when that thing is activated and these crazy people thinking it’s great doesn’t really do it much credit.” She shrugged. “It could be dangerous.”

“It could be,” Cai admitted in that neutral kind of tone his years as an ally had perfected. The one that, even though she recognized it instantly, Corra couldn’t help but fall for every time. She automatically kept talking.

“What if it does something terrible? Their book says it’ll bring salvation, but what does that mean? Is that good?”

“Salvation sounds like a good thing,” was his calm response.

“But it’s just some book by some random person,” Corra argued. “Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“Nope.”

“But it was so accurate.” She clenched her fists and tucked them under her chin. “I mean. The whole thing about me showing up with the Transmission. It’s so…coincidental. Really, what’s the likelihood of an ally–well, Free, but still–showing up here with the Transmission?” Before he could even reply, and why did he need to when she was only arguing with herself, she answered, “It’s not that unlikely. Someone who had the Transmission is likely to show up somewhere the Transmitter is rumored to be. And the fact that I just happen to have a cropped ear, I mean–” She frowned. “It’s still pretty coincidental.” And then shook her head. “But I’m not an ally anymore. I don’t even fit their prophecy, not really.”

As Corra stewed over the situation, Cai watched her with interest. She had taken to mumbling reasoning to herself when he said, “It’s interesting their prophecy includes an ally at all.”

She met his eyes and stared straight through them. “It is, isn’t it?”

“You don’t see slavery mentioned anywhere in any of the major theologies,” Cai remarked thoughtfully. “It’s sort of just brushed over.”

“But this one, this whole Gatekeeper thing, it really kind of embraces it. The whole thing, it’s based in modernity, y’know? It’s not an ancient god watching over us, it’s real people in the real Span taking real action.” She flicked her gaze up to find him watching her intently. A little too intently, making her explain hurriedly, “I’m not thinking of converting or anything. I just–well, they wrote that an ally would save the Span. Whether they’re nuts or not, it’s a nice sentiment.”

“But an unlikely one to be true,” Cai pointed out.

“Is it that unlikely?” Corra couldn’t help but ask. “What if they’re right? What if–imagine I do it. The ritual. I switch on the Transmitter and something — god knows what, but something incredible happens. Imagine an ally, even an ex-ally, saving the Span.”

Cai was nodding slowly. “It would certainly be something to celebrate.”

Corra had been rather decided on the best course of action when she’d stepped into this conversation. She knew her best bet was stealing the Transmitter and having people smarter than her research it and figure out what to do with it from there. Now? Now, she was having serious doubts.

“You think I should do their ritual then,” she said simply, catching Cai’s gaze.

He smiled his goofy smile and said the most useless thing he could. “I think you should do what you feel is right.” When Corra groaned, he chuckled apologetically and tried again. “Alright, weigh it out. You’re eventually going to switch it on anyway, right?”

“Sure, but under controlled conditions, after I’ve had Cy or Addy look at it.”

“Okay so on the one hand.” He held out his palm. “You’ve got stealing the thing, which could be risky. Studying it for a while, maybe getting some answers. Testing it in relative safety given what’s been learned. Maybe learning nothing. On the other hand.” He raised his other palm. “Comply with your captors. Find out what the Transmitter does tonight. Face some risks if it does something unpleasant. But possibility for glory, reknown and Span-wide change if it does the opposite.” Cai shrugged. “Tough choice, huh?”

Corra knew Cai well enough to know he wasn’t being sarcastic or ironic in his question, but regardless of his intention, it sparked something within her.

“Yeah. Tough,” she mumbled, staring intently at her fingertips. What was a little risk anyway? As soon as the question arose in her head, an image of Archeti, encased in green light and crumbling beneath it flashed in front of her eyes. Okay, a little risk could lead to a massive disaster. But hadn’t her riskiness also lead hundreds of enslaved people to freedom?

“I should probably head back to the Beacon before someone thinks I’ve been killed and comes after me,” Cai said, dragging her out of her thoughts. “You’ll be okay, right?”

Corra waved off his concern. “Get back to the others, I’ll be fine.”

A smile lit Cai’s face, full of pride. “Of course, I’d expect nothing less of our capable captain.”

Corra tried to stop herself from blushing which probably only made it worse, but she quickly stood up and brushed off her embarrassment (one would think she’d be used to Cai’s unabashed compliments by now). “Well I expect my capable crew to be ready when I run into the bridge desperate to get the hell out of here.”

“Always and forever, captain,” Cai chimed heading for the door and disappearing out of it. Corra only stood in the chapel watching it for a moment before spinning on her heel and marching towards the back of the room where she promptly ran directly into Finn.

“We’re not acting like normal people,” Leta growled. “We’re completely dysfunctional around one another.”

“Look, if your lil’ shark buddy’s jealous, just tell him not to be. There’s nothin’ here anymore.” He waved his hand between the two of them.

Leta growled under her breath, “Isn’t there?” with her face full of challenge, which rooted Fiearius in place.

“I heard the recording of your interview,” she went on fiercely.

Fiearius’ mouth fell open. At last, he grunted, “So this is about the interview.”

“You think you’re some kind of martyr, don’t you?” she snapped.

“Excuse me?” He grasped for words. “I’m not–I never said that I–gods, what the fuck? I’m not a martyr.”

“But you’re going to be,” she said in a sing-song voice, angrily mocking him. “Because it’s all you’ve got, remember? Everything leads to it.”

Fiearius could hardly even work up the stamina to respond to her. “I don’t think you understand,” he tried anyway. “I never meant it’s some work of destiny or whatever, but I’m doing what has to be done, regardless of–”

“If you’re planning to die in this war, I want no part of it.”

Fiearius was dumbstruck into silence. Just that morning, the two of them had been laughing about something Gates had said in the war council meeting over breakfast. Getting along great. Better than they ever had before, really. He’d been really starting to enjoy Leta’s friendship these days. And now all of a sudden, she wanted nothing to do with him?

Well. Fine.

“Alright,” he said, short and terse. “Whatever. You want space?” He did laugh this time, harsh and humorless, then threw his hands toward the door. “Take some space. Take all the space you need. I don’t care.”

“Great.”

“In fact, the further the better.”

Leta’s eyes narrowed on him, but she didn’t respond. She just sucked in a breath and began to push past him headed straight for the door, but she didn’t make it far. Suddenly, a massive boom echoed through the room and the entire ground beneath their feet shook so violently that Leta stumbled backwards, losing her footing and falling towards Fiearius who caught her in his arms.

For a long moment, she leaned back on him in silence as they both looked up at the ceiling, expecting a follow-up. When none came, Leta collected herself.

“Don’t touch me,” she said quietly, pushing out of his hands.

Fiearius rolled his eyes. “Oh, sorry. Next time I’ll just let you fall on your ass.”

No sooner had she righted herself, though, another boom sounded and the station shook again. This time, they were ready for it, though Leta still braced her hand on Fiearius’ arm. “Are we under attack?” she breathed quietly.

Another short succession of booms followed.

“Let’s go find out,” Fiearius muttered, already expecting the worst, as he led the two of them out into the hall.

———-

The war room was crowded, soldiers and leaders all talking loudly at once, a sea of confusion. Though there had been no more thunderous trembles on the run over here, screens were still flashing and warning lights circling as Fiearius pressed into the room. He couldn’t make sense of what was happening, and when he glanced sideways at Leta, he could see in her face that she understood as well as he did.

They pressed through the crowd toward the center table, and just when Fiearius was about to yell to get some answers, Admiral Gates beat him to it.

“Quiet!” barked the older man at the head of the table. The room went suddenly, coldly silent. Gates’ paused, his jaw tightened, his face drawn in shadows. “The Society has located the CORS.”

A shocked gasp went around the room. Bursts of “What?!” and “How?!” could be heard briefly before focus returned to Gates. “We picked up their stealth scouts nearby. Our artillery core engaged. The shudders you felt were the scouts’ limited retaliation before they were neutralized.”

“So they’re gone? We’re safe?” Fiearius heard someone breathe beside him.

“Unfortunately, we have confirmed that they were able to broadcast our location to the Ellegian stronghold before we managed to eliminate them.”

Panic started to stir around them. The CORS had managed to stay hidden throughout the entire war, despite the Society’s efforts to find it. If they’d finally succeeded, if they’d managed?

This whole station was now looking straight in the eyes of its endgame.

“We should anticipate Ellegy launching an attack within hours,” Gates went on. “They will come swiftly and they will come hard. We need to be ready to defend the station with everything we’ve got. Recall every ship in range. Recall those outside range too. We’ll need all the firepower we can get.”

“How long do we have?” someone in the room shouted out.

“It’ll take them at least half a day to reach us,” Arsen answered, standing firm beside Gates.

“We should evacuate all non-combat, non-essential personnel,” Gates suggested.

“In as few ships as possible,” Arsen added. “We need to maintain a supply of lifeboats here in case things turn south.”

“All captains should return to their troops immediately and prepare them for battle. Everyone else, start the evacuation.” Fiearius felt Gates’ eyes upon him. “Admiral, you and I can discuss fleet formations.”

Fiearius heaved a deep breath and nodded, stepping forward as the crowd started to shift, but Leta’s voice stopped him. “Wait,” she said. He looked down to find her staring straight ahead, her eyes wide. “Wait,” she said again, louder this time. “Wait!”

The crowd stopped moving and all eyes turned towards her. Fiearius saw her swallow a lump in her throat before she sputtered out, “We should abandon the station.”

Predictably, it was Arsen who first spoke up. “What?!” He scoffed indignantly. “To your posts!”

But Leta wasn’t finished. “No, listen!” she snapped. “You’re certain they’ll attack from Ellegy? And soon?”

Gates was watching her curiously as Arsen, impatient as ever, growled, “Certain as we could be. They’ll know we detected their scouts. If they’re to have a chance, they have to mount a large attack quickly before we can recall the entire fleet and Ellegy’s the closest planet to do so from. Which is exactly why we don’t have time to waste.”

Fiearius cast the man a glare, unsurprised to find Gates was always eying him with distaste. Leta didn’t seem to mind either way. “We’ve been looking for a way into Ellegy for months. Years, even. But it’s too heavily defended. The Ellegian fleet never leaves port.”

Slowly, the realization of what she was getting at dawned on Fiearius. “Except for now,” he muttered.

She pointed at him and smiled. “Exactly. If they send the Ellegian fleet to destroy the CORS, it’ll leave Ellegy, for the first time, less defended. We’ve been waiting for this chance. We could launch our attack while they launch theirs. They’d never expect it.”

“Of course they wouldn’t,” Arsen spat. “Because leaving the CORS undefended is insane. This station is far too valuable to sacrifice.”

“More valuable than our only opportunity to assault the Society’s secondary holding?” Leta argued. She turned to the people around her. “I know, losing the CORS would be devastating, but even if we stayed, there’s a high chance we could lose it.”

“And if we attack Ellegy, we could lose both the CORS and our entire fleet,” was Arsen’s quick response.

Leta grit her teeth and Fiearius saw her fists clench at her side. “This could be our only shot at Ellegy. We’re ready. We’ve prepared for this. We just need to take it.”

Fiearius was still watching her in interest when Gates caught his eye, his brow raised in curiosity. It was a look Fiearius knew well. He shrugged in response. “It’s your station.”

Gates released a small puff of breath from his nose. At his side, Arsen was incredulous. “Sir, you can’t seriously be considering this.”

Fiearius could tell Leta was ready to launch into another stream of justifications any minute. She was, as always, willing to fight this to the death if need be. But she didn’t have to. Gates nodded just once.

“Captains, change of plans. Restock as much artillery as you can carry and prepare to depart the CORS immediately. We’re headed to Ellegy.”

Liam was nodding. “Exymeron’s failing economy post Division War.”

“And they did a great job. But their entire function is reactionary. When things are good? Thriving? They’re worthless. So they need to make problems to solve in order to keep their power. Make people believe that without the Society, things would descend into chaos. And who’s better at that than a whole bunch of–”

“Scared teenagers,” Liam finished for him, his tone heavily thoughtful. “Interesting.”

Fiearius sat back in the chair and shrugged. “Just my theory anyway.”

“Pretty good one, I think,” Liam admitted. “So. What’s it like now that you’re facing all this from the other side?”

Fiearius shuffled in his seat and propped his head in his hand. “How do you mean?”

“Well, there aren’t a lot of defectors–” Fiearius coughed. “–eh, alive anyway. At least none that would speak out against them publicly. So your views on the Society are rather unique. I was just wondering what it feels like to be fighting something that was, at one point, in your own words, a refuge.”

Fiearius went quiet again as he considered the question. “I don’t know,” he admitted at last. “It doesn’t really feel like an ‘us vs. them’ sort of thing. I’m totally committed to dismantling the Society as a whole, but the people in it? It’s–it’s difficult sometimes. Fighting them. Because I know them. I know what it’s like to be them. Hell, if a couple things had gone a little differently, I could have still been one of them.”

“What things are those?” Liam wanted to know.

But Fiearius’ silence this time was different than before. More intense, deeper. It was no surprise when his answer was, “I’d rather not dwell on that if it’s alright by you.”

“Ah, right, sure no problem. But I have to wonder, defining yourself as just narrowly on the other side of this war, does that mean you consider yourself still connected to the Society?”

Fiearius lifted a brow. “No, not at all.” When Liam just watched him patiently, he went on, “But I have a connection to the Exymerian people. And the Ellegians, the Ascendians, the Vescentians and anyone else who’s lived under Society rule.”

“And you want to–free these people? The way you were freed?”

Fiearius barked a laugh. “Hopefully not the way I was freed, no. But do I want them to live in a place where their choices do matter, where they don’t have to be afraid of their own neighbors and kids aren’t being offered assassination training as their only way out of a bad situation? Fuck yeah, I do.”

“So to you, this whole war is kind of personal.”

“It’s entirely personal,” Fiearius answered without hesitation. “If by the end of this, I’ve put the Span any closer to not containing any more shit like me, then it will have all been worth it.”

Liam sounded a touch confused when he muttered, “An…interesting way to phrase a noble prospect. Would the translation to ‘better place for my kids to grow up in’ be correct?”

Fiearius snorted. “No kids in my short lil future, but sure, whichever cliche floats your boat.”

“Short future?” Liam asked. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Fiearius repeated incredulously. “I dunno how long you’ve been reporting on this particular war, mate, but if you think I’m gonna come out the other end of it, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Seems a little morbid…”

“It’s not morbid, it’s realistic.” Fiearius couldn’t have sounded more casual about the idea of his own death. “Carthis will handle a lot of crazy shit, don’t get me wrong, but they have self-preservation in mind at all times, as they should. These people, the soldiers? Fighting for someone else’s freedom? It’s not in ‘em. They have families and lives to get back to and more power to ‘em for it.”

“But me?” he went on. “This is what I’ve got. Everything in my life leads to this. So while they’re busy calculating losses, I’ll take the risks. They’re how we’ve gotten to where we are in this war at all. And it’s a damn miracle the odds have thus far tilted in my favor. But I’m not fool enough to think that’ll last forever.”

Liam’s pen tapped gently on the edge of the table. “And you’re alright with that? The dangerous missions, the high risks, inevitability of failure?”

He shrugged.  “We all die eventually.”

———————————

The recording ended abruptly with a scratch of static and Leta’s finger on the dial. She could not listen any longer. Silence unfolded in the room, and kept unfolding for seconds longer, and she felt Liam watching her.

“There’s…a bit more actually,” he ventured carefully. “I asked him about the Baltimore and we talked about life on the Dionysian and–” Leta was shaking her head silently. “Hey.” His hand touched her knee. “You okay over there?”

No, not at all, she thought. Something about the way Fiearius spoke about the war, Carthis, his inevitable death…It hit her hard in the gut. Talking of having nothing else and his whole life leading here, gods, he was starting to sound like Dez. Fear leaked into her heart, and she felt suddenly ice cold.

Leta nodded. “I’m fine,” she heard herself say, but she was already on her way toward the door. “I just — there’s something I need to do. I’ll be right back.”

————————

He would never admit it aloud, but Fiearius found that he was, privately, starting to enjoy the comfort of his quarters on the CORS. The extravagance of the lounge, dining room, and master bathroom were obnoxious, but he had to admit the space was a nice reprieve. At least it was quiet. In this moment, Fiearius sat on the couch, balancing a plate of eggs and potatoes on his knee. He ate with one hand while his other hand held a tablet, which blared the headline: Society Forces Flee Ascendian Ground.

A pounding on the door broke him out of his thoughts. Frowning, he slid the plate to the coffee table and hit the switch to slide open the door, surprised to see Leta standing on the other side.

“Leta. To what do I owe this — ”

“We need to talk.”

A storm clouded her face, and her eyes were shifting over him uneasily.

“Okay,” he said blankly, stepping sideways and closing the door behind him. Leta slid past him and immediately began to pace over the shining wood floor, wringing her hands together while pointedly avoiding his gaze.

“What is it?” He was baffled. “You alright?”

“No. Not really.”

He waited, but when she did not elaborate, he asked, “You need a drink or somethin’?” He started to cross toward the fully stocked liquor bar. For some reason, this made her face darken.

“Definitely not.” She shot a nasty look toward the decanter of bourbon in his hand.

“Well, that’s unlike you,” he commented, almost grinning. “What is it we need to talk about then?”

“You.” She suddenly halted. “Me. Us. Look, I think I need some distance.”

Fiearius stared at her. Then he lowered the decanter back onto the bar. “Distance.”

“Yes. Distance. We’ve been seeing a lot of each other lately and I think it’s been too much for both of us.”

“Hang on.” He held up a hand. He felt like laughing. “I’m confused. What the hell did I do?”

“Nothing. I’ve just — decided it’s time we move on with our personal lives, and right now I’m letting you know I need space.”

“You need some space,” he repeated slowly. “So you came here. To my quarters. To tell me you need some space.”

“Yes. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She veered back toward the door and while some part of him thought it’d be easier to just let her walk out, he couldn’t help himself.

“No, hang on, I won’t excuse you.” He held up his palms, stepping into her path. “What the fuck is going on? Is this about the interview? I was perfectly nice to the guy.”

“You were fine,” Leta agreed, a hiss of a breath.

“I was helpful even.”

“You were.”

“You told me to do it. So why are you pissed at me? I don’t get it. I did everything you asked and now you’re punishing me for it?”

“I’m not punishing you, I’m trying to be realistic. I’m with Liam, you have Quin, and all this time together on the station isn’t good for anyone.”

“Not good for anyone? Yeah, sure, people getting along and acting like normal people is terrible,” he groaned.

Just then, a panel on the wall started to flash. The front door alert, Fiearius realized at once. He couldn’t recall having any afternoon meetings planned nor visits scheduled, though it wasn’t all that unlikely to have Gates drop by unannounced to pester him about the ongoing Ellegy strategy. But he had no desire at the moment to be pestered.

“Who is it?” he asked the wall anyway and the panel stopped flashing to show him the video stream from the camera by the door. When he glanced over at it, he expected to see Gates’ grey hair and gnarled face, but he was greeted instead by someone else.

“Well speak o’ the devil,” Quin cooed as the Leta on the screen stared straight up into the camera lens and mouthed ‘let me in!’

He couldn’t fathom what she could possibly need. He’d only just seen her hours ago. But his brain ran over a thousand possibilities. There was an update from the Ellegian rebels she needed to give him. She overheard something the Carthians were planning behind their backs. She’d gotten into a fight with her shark boyfriend and needed comfort.

No, that was stupid.

Still.

“I better go see what she wants,” he groaned, hoping Quin couldn’t detect the genuine curiosity and (gods, he really was pathetic) misplaced hope behind his mask of irritation.

As he climbed out of bed and started to pull on the clothes he’d left scattered across the floor, Quin rolled over onto her stomach and propped her chin in her hands to watch him. “Want me to put on an apron and pretend to be your housewife for her?”

“Shut it,” Fiearius grumbled, slipping his shirt over his head.

“Oh, honey, you’re such a kidder,” she cooed in over-the-top sweetness. “Shall I get started on your dinner?”

Fiearius rolled his eyes and headed for the door. “Just stay here.” He shut it behind him, blocking out her laughter as he crossed through his expansive quarters to the entryway. Leta didn’t even wait for the doorway to even open entirely before she slipped through.

“Hey, you’re not busy, are you?” she asked, brushing straight by him to the bowl of pure Carthian chocolates on a pedestal that the man who cleaned his quarters refilled every morning. “I can come back later if you are.”

Fiearius watched with interest as she unwrapped the thing and popped it into her mouth without hesitation. “Now’s as good a time as any. What’s up?”

“I have a favor to ask,” she said in a way that made him sure of one thing.

“I’m not gonna like it, am I?” he sighed, leaving the entryway and wandering over to fall onto one of the couches in the living room.

“Well, you may not be thrilled, no,” she admitted, following him and sitting down in the opposite chair. “It’s about Liam.”

Fiearius snorted. “I can’t teach him to satisfy a woman like I can, Leta. It’s a gift.”

Leta flashed him a dark look but ignored the remark. “He’s been getting a lot of slack from his editor for not producing anything recently. If he doesn’t put out something good soon, he’s going to have to leave the CORS. And, as you might expect, I would rather he didn’t.”

A frown creased Fiearius’ brow and a sense of worry hit him. Leta’s newest friend certainly had a lot of material for a ‘good’ story. He knew about the Councillor Initiative, he likely knew far more about the upcoming attack on Ellegy than he should, gods only knew what else he had been privy to hanging around with Leta. Any one of those stories, if they got out, could be disastrous. He was shaking his head before he even conjured words to answer.

“No no no. He cannot publish–Leta, you know how bad it would be if people knew what we were doing. Not to mention if the Society found out, there’s no way that wouldn’t come back to bite us in the ass, you can’t let him–“

But she too was shaking her head and holding up a hand to quiet him. “Gods, Fiear, that’s not what I meant. Of course he can’t publish military secrets, I wouldn’t let him, nor would he ask. It’s not that at all.”

Now he was just confused. “Then what’s he want?”

“We were thinking something a little more…personal.”

“Personal…” Fiearius repeated slowly.

“You know, an exclusive interview, one-on-one with the greatest admiral of the war, for the first time answering everything the Span’s wondered about.” She sold the thing just like the advertisement for it would, dramatic to a fault.

“Personal,” Fiearius said again, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Yeah, your story, how you got here, what you’re fighting for, that kind of thing. Everything the people know of you has just been snippy press conferences and a few backwater rag exposés. It’d be good for you to get your actual perspective out there. It’ll sway some people who are still on the fence about your involvement. Win over some questioning members of the Society itself, maybe. They’re far more likely to relate to you than anyone from Carthis.”

Fiearius’ glare deepened. “Personal.”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to. Just the basics. You can talk it over beforehand so he knows what you’re comfortable with.”

“I’m not comfortable with any of it,” Fiearius snapped, rising to his feet and pacing around the couch.

Leta sat up straighter and braced her hands on her knees. “Fiear, I know you’ve had bad experiences with press in the past, but you can’t let that color your opinion entirely. Those other reporters, they were just sensationalists trying to get a scoop and lying to you and publishing the bullshit they did, that was awful, but they’re not all like that. Liam’s not like that.”

Fiearius shook his head, gripping the back of the couch. “That’s not even it, though, it wasn’t bullshit!”

Leta tilted her head at him and frowned. “What do you mean–you really are taking drugs again?”

“Wh–no, okay, the ‘psycho druggie’ one was bullshit, fine, some of them are,” Fiearius admitted. “But most of it? I did murder those people, I did steal that medicine, I’ve done most of the terrible things they accused me of. My ‘story’? Is full of exactly the kind of crap people already hate me for.”

“Which is exactly why it’s important that you take control of your own narrative.” She too stood up now and walked around the couch to join him. “If you just keep letting your name get smeared all over the place, the people won’t know what’s true and what’s a lie. But if you tell the story yourself, you can explain it all, you can rise above it and you can show how much you’ve changed.”

Fiearius let her words hover in the air for a moment before he growled, “And if I haven’t?”

“You have,” she countered at once. “I’m serious, Fiear, this’ll be good for you. Good for the cause.”

“And good for your lil’ boyfriend.”

Her brow creased and she folded her arms over her chest. “Yes. And you owe him, you said so yourself. You never would have caught that Councillor without him. You owe him.”

Fiearius groaned and leaned against the back of the couch. “Yeah, that’s why I’ve been so nice to him.”

“I wouldn’t say so nice,” Leta argued, “but regardless, give him his interview and you’ll be even.”

He eyed her curiously. “So if I do it, I can stop being nice to him?”

“What–no.”

He threw his hands up in the air dramatically. “Then what’s even the point?!”

Sighing, Leta dropped her hands on his shoulders. “Can I tell him you’ll do it?”

Fiearius met her stare squarely. There was nothing about this he liked, but even his mastery of denial couldn’t manage to formulate an excuse good enough to counter her. Nor would it matter. He knew Leta well enough by now to know that she wouldn’t be stopping until he agreed, no matter what he said. So he groaned and muttered, “Fine.”

“Great.” She clapped him on the arm and turned towards the door. “I’ll schedule something through Javier.” She waved cheerfully as she slipped out into the hallway, calling, “Thanks, Fiear, you won’t regret this!” as she left.

Fiearius continued to stare at the closed door after she was gone, internally wondering how tightly wound around her finger he was and whether or not she’d known that when she walked in.

“I have a feeling I will,” he muttered to the empty room, just as a glass was shoved into his hand.

He looked over in surprise to find Quin smirking at him, then looked down at the glass, full of coppery liquid that he couldn’t readily identify. Moments later, he realized he didn’t care and shot the whole thing back without a second thought.

Slowly Leta put down her mug, eyeing Liam warningly. “This better not be why you invited me to lunch.”

“It’s not,” said Liam quickly. Sincerity filled his eyes. “Leta, this has no bearing whatsoever on our relationship. I’m simply asking for a favor. I’d ask him myself, I really would. But my guess is — “

“Don’t waste your time with that,” Leta advised. She exhaled a sigh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

————————–

Fiearius sighed as he rolled over onto his back, his messy hair splaying out against the pillow and the sheet that had become tangled around his leg falling off the side of the bed.  For a moment, he just lay there, staring up at the high metal ceiling of his CORS admiral’s lounge and enjoying the feeling of the cool, expensive sheets against his sweat-sheened skin. Then he heard the click of a lighter next to him.

He glanced over as Quin put the cigarette to her lips and he frowned. “You shouldn’t smoke,” he pointed out apathetically. With the same lack of gusto, she shrugged her bare shoulders.

“I spent my whole life on Archeti. If my lungs don’t have a bit o’ tar in ‘em, they feel empty,” she countered, blowing out a trail of smoke that lingered just above the bed.

Fiearius twisted his face in distaste and waved his hand through it. “I meant in here. Gonna set off some alarm and get a flood of Carthians in here thinking their precious station is on fire.”

Quin made a small thoughtful ‘hmph’ and took another hit of the cigarette. The two of them fell into momentary silence before finally she glanced over at him and grinned. “Would be kinda funny though.”

Fiearius chuckled his agreement and stretched out his arms above his head. One fell carelessly back onto the bed, the other he slipped around Quin’s shoulders and used to pull her side against his. This was starting to feel familiar, this part. The part just previous was already commonplace and had been for ages now, but this part, the lying around after, just content to have each other’s company, was newer. Quin and Fiearius were often on opposite sides of the Span, but when they weren’t, he had come to genuinely enjoy spending his quieter hours beside her. He found their intimate moments comforting and, by the way she didn’t immediately gather her things to leave as she might have in the past, he assumed she agreed.

“Do you remember when we met?” he asked suddenly and he felt her shift away to squint at him curiously.

“Pardon?”

“You know,” Fiearius went on. “How you refused to meet with me so I stole some shit from your warehouse and you had Aeneas tie me to a chair and beat me for three hours?”

She scrunched up her face. “I do not remember that.”

“To be fair, you were only around for the beginning. And the end when I said he could keep going all he wanted, I still wouldn’t give your stuff back. And you said you liked my dedication and gave me a gig?” Now he looked over at her and could see no recollection sparking where it should have. “Seriously? You don’t remember that?”

“It’s a common enough story, kinda all blends together,” Quin admitted. “I do remember the first time I took you back to my bed though. After the Lorrinian job.”

Fiearius frowned. “That was the second time. The first time was immediately following the incident with Puvnacus.”

“Ah, bloody mess, that.”

“I was terrified,” Fiearius confessed through a contented sigh. “Incredibly turned on. But terrified.”

“Just the way I like ‘em.” Quin grinned maliciously and elbowed him in the ribs. “What brought this on, huh? Not like you to get all sentimental.”

“I dunno, just thinkin’ out loud.” Fiearius curled his hand around her arm. “We’ve known each other a long time. What is it, 8? 9 years? Just…a long time, is all.”

She was watching him curiously, almost cautiously, he couldn’t help but notice. He felt curious and cautious about it himself, not really sure where he was going with this. The words just kept coming out, surprising him as much as they might have her. “And most of that, we’ve been–” he gestured to the two of them, lying naked side by side in bed. “Just a long time to be together, I guess.”

Now, her curiosity turned into something a lot like suspicion. “Sure, but–we ain’t ‘together’, sweetheart.”

“Yeah I know,” he agreed, ignoring the beginnings of embarrassment that were trying to take over. “But — well –” He apparently couldn’t stop himself though. “Kind of?”

Quin sat up in bed at once and when she looked down at him, he could not have felt smaller. “No, honey. Not kind of.” She put his hand on his shoulder which somehow made it worse. “This thing you and me have? You’re a good friend. And a great lover. And a partner I’d lay my life on the line for any day o’ the week. But let’s not get mixed up with any extra feelin’s a’right?”

There was a primal instinct in Fiearius that he had had since he was very very young. He’d never been sure if it stemmed from the early days of being a child on the playground or if it had only first needed to manifest itself there, but regardless, it had never left. He didn’t like feeling pathetic. He didn’t like people making him feel pathetic. So when he felt pathetic? In return, he got angry.

He pushed himself up to meet her face on, hoping their actual size difference would help. It didn’t. “Little late for that,” he snapped.

She raised her brows at him, still calm as ever. “Late?”

“Yeah, late,” he said again, more forcefully. “Telling me not to ‘have feelings’ isn’t gonna stop me from having them.”

“Well,” she tilted her head and smiled. “Good thing you don’t then.”

Fiearius blanched. Whatever argument he’d been expecting her to use, it wasn’t that. “What? What do you mean — I do, though!”

“You sure as hell don’t,” Quin said with so much authority, he almost believed it himself.

“I do,” he snapped back.

“You don’t.”

“I do!”

“You really don’t.”

Fiearius growled in frustration and before he even considered what he was saying, the words tumbled out, “I do, I’m in love with you!”

The room got very quiet. The two of them stared at one another in complete utter silence, like a standoff in which neither party could yet figure out what action to take or whether they even wanted to act at all. And then finally, to his horror, Quin laughed.

Not just a regular laugh, either. A long, raucous laugh that made her double over and tears well up in her eyes. A laugh that followed something so hilariously ridiculous that she had trouble breathing. A laugh that made Fiearius wonder, if he had meant what he’d said, whether or not it would stay true when she finally got over it. He glared at her for a good solid minute until she was able to suck in a breath and speak.

“Oh honey,” she choked out. “You are many, many things.” She grasped one of his shoulders and cupped his cheek as she smiled sadly at him. “But one thing you are not is in love with me.”

“Not anymore,” Fiearius deadpanned, the anger he’d felt before subsiding into irritation. Still, he wasn’t done with this argument. “But come on, you have to admit. There’s something more to us. Isn’t there?”

Quin let her hands fall into her lap as she shook her head. “No. There ain’t.” She heaved in a deep breath, still recovering from her laughing fit before she told him, at least trying to be serious, “‘Us’? ‘Us’ is two consenting adults with a huge shared burden usin’ each other in their downtime. And that’s it.”

“Using each other?” he repeated incredulously. “How the hell do you figure that?”

“Simple. I’m usin’ you for that thing you do so well.” She winked and poked him in the chest with her index finger. “And you. You’re usin’ me to keep up a charade of emotional stability.” She lifted her brows, daring him to challenge the statement.

He opened his mouth to do so, but “I–” was all that came out. His eyes fell to his feet and he tried to wrap his head around this. Before he made it anywhere, she continued.

“Sweetie, I’m no halfwit, I know why you called me up for this lil afternoon exercise. And hey, I ain’t judgin’ ya. If you’re feelin’ low and lonely and need some company to forget it all, I am more than happy to oblige, no questions asked, but I care about ya, as dumb of me as that is. And I don’t want you gettin’ so caught up in your own lie that ya can’t even see it anymore.”

“It’s not a lie,” Fiearius objected, though his heart wasn’t in it even as he said it.

Quin frowned at him. “Darlin’ everyone with eyes can see you’re still hung up on that doctor o’ yours.”

“I am not,” he replied automatically. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d been accused of it and it probably wouldn’t be the last. And just like everyone else who’d said it (Cyrus, Addy, Gates, himself…), Quin gave him that look. That ‘you are so full of shit’ look he was so familiar with. So he sighed. “It was years ago, she’s with someone else now, it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh she is, is she?” Quin rolled her eyes and lay back down on the bed, crossing her hands underneath her head. “Well that explains how weird you been actin’.”

“I’m not acting weird.”

“Three minutes ago, you confessed to being in love with me,” she pointed out.

Fiearius grimaced. “Fine. A little weird.”

Quin was shaking her head. “So this guy. Awful?”

“He’s alright actually.” Fiearius shrugged. “Helped me out with something I wasn’t expecting. She seems happy with him so he’s fine in my book.” When he caught her skeptical glare, he snapped, “What? I can be a mature adult sometimes. If I want.”

As he lay back down next to her she snorted a laugh. “That’s big of you. Still jealous though.”

“I’m only human,” he grumbled.

“Well you’re goin’ about this all the wrong way, y’know.” He glanced over at her and she smiled. “I know it hurts when someone you love moves on, but this? I don’t know if it’s for you or for her or for her new beau, don’t matter, shouldn’t be jumpin’ through hoops tryin’ to prove you’ve moved on too.”

“I know.” Fiearius let out a groan and pulled his hands down his face. “But fake it ‘til ya make it has worked out for me pretty well up to now.”

“It did let you go from space trash to respected admiral,” Quin agreed. “Well, maybe not ‘respected’.” He shot her another glare which she ignored. “Glad we had this lil discussion. You’re fine as all else, Soliveré, but thinkin’ I’d ever be engagin’ in romance with you? Dumb and pathetic as hell.”

Fiearius snorted. “Yeah, you were right.” He slipped his arm around her again. “I so do not love you.”

“I know.”

Finally, Finn’s expression softened a little. “I think that hurt the worst, by the way,” he admitted, quieter now. “When I heard you’d reached out to Leta, but not even a word to me.” He grimaced and shrugged. “I know you two are closer than we’ll ever be, of course you’d talk to her, but–I don’t know. I thought we had something too, you and I. More than just a friendship. A–well, partnership.” His eyes had been locked onto her through this whole revelation, but now they looked away. “You’d really come to mean a lot to me then, y’know. I really cared about you.”

For the second time, Corra felt the wind had been punched out of her. “I–I really cared about you too,” she admitted quietly.

A tiny smile curled into Finn’s lips. “Then why didn’t you ever contact me?”

Corra heaved in a deep breath. “Because I needed to be alone.” It was an admission she hadn’t even really considered until it came out of her mouth. “I’d always been surrounded by people. On Kadolyne, the Dionysian, the Beacon. And I just…needed to be alone for a while. I don’t know, it doesn’t really make sense maybe, but–”

“It makes sense,” Finn interrupted and he shrugged again. “Soul searching. Been there done that.” He nodded slowly before tilting his head at her. “Did it help?”

“I think so,” she muttered, brushing a nervous hand through her hair. “Maybe. I hope so…” She looked down at her feet before finally saying in a hurry, “Riley, I’m so sorry, I didn’t ever mean to hurt you even more, I just–”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He came towards her and put his hands on her shoulders. “You gotta do what you gotta do, I get that. Just one thing.” She looked up at him, trying to wipe her crying eyes with the back of her hand. “Are you done? Can you come back now?”

She sniffled a laugh and her vision blurred as it filled with tears. “Yeah. I think I can.” She only got one quick glance at the smile that broke over his face before he pulled her into a hug that threatened to crush her.

“Good. We missed you.”

Tears were still streaming down Corra’s face when Finn finally loosened his hold on her. But they dried quickly when suddenly he said in a tone she hadn’t been expecting, “What’s that light?”

Startled, she whipped her head around to see what he was seeing over her head. There was no light that she could make out, but when he let go and headed forward down the hall, she followed. It wasn’t until he pushed open a heavy door that had only been cracked open that she saw what he was talking about.

The archive was deserted entirely. Except, it seemed, for this one room. There were a couple of folded chairs, a table with some cards on it and a wall of console monitors. “Is this–” Corra began and Finn nodded.

“Security monitoring, looks like.”

The whole thing was shut off for now, the room dark, but it didn’t have the layers of dust the other areas had. This place had been occupied and not too long ago at that. But empty as it was now, there was one singular light on one singular console in the corner. It was tiny, red and flashed insistently, begging for attention.

Finn got there first, turning on the screen and examining its contents. An incoming message, Corra realized as she peered around his shoulder.

“All members,” Finn read, mumbling through some parts of the message, “emergency meeting…town hall…intruders? Looking for–Transmitter. The Holy Origin must be protected at all costs?”

Corra’s eyes grew wide and she swallowed as Finn whipped his head around to look at her. “What the hell? Who are these people?”

“I don’t know,” Corra answered, feeling suddenly short of breath. “But they found Cy and Addy.”

——————

The grand escape plan might have worked, had a few conditions been different. If the Gatekeepers of the Holy Origin had been fewer in numbers, for instance. If the basement Cyrus and Addy had been in wasn’t directly underneath their meeting hall. If Cyrus had been able to see well enough to not run them straight into the middle of a meeting.

“Well it was a good effort,” Addy mumbled behind him. She had her back to him, and his back to her, all four of their wrists tied together and attached to a pole in the center of the group’s hall. The blurry shapes of crazed people surrounded them, still debating how exactly they were going to dispose of the fugitives. One woman thought they should be burned because it would be cleaner. Another man wanted to simply shoot them. A more creative cultist thought something with knives would be more meaningful.

Cyrus couldn’t bear to listen to it anymore.

“Would have been better if I’d found the exit,” he found himself saying, voice hoarse, as he turned to look at her. “Hey. Addy. I–I’m really sorry. All that stuff I said–”

“I know.” Vulnerability shone in her wide, round eyes. “I know. I’m sorry too.”

“You and Kalli, you’re–you’re everything to me,” Cyrus admitted. “And I can be an ass sometimes, you’re totally right, but it’s only because I am absolutely terrified of losing either of you.” Carefully, so as not to pull something the wrong way, he twisted his hand around to squeeze hers. “I love that you’re adventurous and brave, really.”

Addy released a sad chuckle. “And I love that you’re logical and dependable even when everything else has gone to hell.” He felt her fingers lace through his and squeeze even tighter. “There’s no one I’d rather raise our daughter with.”

“Me either.” Cyrus looked up at the people still hovering nearby and swallowed. “I love you so much. If I ever gave you a reason to doubt that, I–”

He could feel Addy shaking her head. “No, don’t. Cy, I know and–gods, I love you too, don’t ever think otherwise.” Her voice was starting to shudder. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry…”

Around them, oblivious to their discussion, it seemed the Gatekeepers of Whatever had made their decision and that decision looked a lot like a double-barrel shotgun. Cyrus squeezed Addy’s hand tighter as a blur approached them and the man from the library spoke. “I promise this’ll be real quick,” he assured them. “Won’t feel a thing.”

Cyrus heard Addy choke down a sob. Her hands were shaking. Or were those his? He’d been near death before, especially living on the Dionysian, but never had it been presented as such a clear, unavoidable reality. He couldn’t say he was afraid exactly. It wasn’t fear that struck him then, as the clicks of bullets being loaded into a gun sounded by his ear. It was sadness, pure and simple. Sadness that he wouldn’t finish his work on Archeti. Sadness he’d never see Satieri again. And especially sadness that he’d never see the woman beside him again. He’d never get the chance to make up for the past few years. He’d never get to lay around with her in his arms in the morning. Never raise their daughter together. Never grow old together.

His own life didn’t feel like that big of a loss. But losing Addy’s? Losing Kalli’s? The very thought made his insides feel like they were imploding in on themselves.

“Which one of you wants to go first?” the man with the shotgun asked. Now, Addy wasn’t holding back her weeping, it was coming out in sharp, hoarse breaths.

Cyrus swallowed the lump in his own throat. “Me,” he managed, only barely.

“Cy–no,” Addy sobbed, pulling against the bonds.

“Better me than you,” Cyrus grunted, fighting back the water from his own eyes.

“You–I can’t–” she stuttered, but suddenly her sadness turned to anger. She twisted towards the man with the gun. “You can’t do this! We have a daughter! She needs us! You can’t do this! You can’t just–kill us!”

“Sorry, miss,” he replied, sounding a bit taken aback. “Don’t really have much choice.”

“You do have a choice!” Addy snapped, but her voice was already cracking. “Please! Please don’t do this.”

“The Holy Origin must be protected at all costs,” the man said and Cyrus yelped as he felt the cold barrel of a gun press against his forehead.

“The others–the people on our ship–they’ll come for you,” Addy bit angrily, but her heart was only half in it. He could practically hear the tears streaming down her face. “You won’t get away with this.”

The man with the gun sighed and applied more pressure. “The Holy Origin must be protected at all costs,” he repeated and Cyrus could hear the others in the room whispering along in unison.

The gun’s safety clicked. Addy let out a horrifying wail. Cyrus just drew in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. And then, there were two loud bangs. And a shout of, “Wait!”

Cyrus snapped open his eyes and looked around at the blurry shapes frantically rushing about in surprise. “Who–” began the man with the gun who pressed it even harder against Cyrus’ head.

“Wait, don’t!” said the interruptor again and Cyrus finally got the relief he was craving.

“Corra–” he heard Addy breathe.

He strained his neck to get a better look at the short brown blurry shape flanked by the tall brown blurry shape marching into the hall. “Don’t kill them. I have something you want.” She raised something shiny in the air, catching the light and flashing brightly in her hand.

All around them, the Gatekeepers gasped. “The Transmission” — “It’s the Transmission” — “How does she have–”

“Let them go, now,” Corra ordered, “Or I’ll destroy it. I swear to God, I will, don’t test me.”

“No!” shouted one of the Gatekeepers, lashing out towards her, but her companion, Cyrus assumed was Finn, seemed to raise a gun that stopped them in their tracks. And that was when things got weird.

“Look! Look at her ear!” someone else shouted.

“She has the mark!” said another.

“The mark of the slave,” gasped someone else to which Corra snapped, “Hey! I thought I said–”

But the man with the gun spoke over her. The gun fell from Cyrus’ temple and he lifted his hands into the air. “Friends! Gatekeepers! Release these captives at once.”

“Well–thanks,” Corra said, though she sounded less sure of herself than she had a minute ago. And for good reason.

“A great day is upon us,” the man went on. “The day we have long awaited. The slave has delivered unto us the Transmission. The prophecy is complete!”

As Cyrus and Addy were forcefully untied and raised to their feet, everyone in the room erupted into a chorus of cheers and celebration. Cyrus couldn’t see Corra’s face across the room, but he had a feeling it displayed the same emotion he himself was feeling just then.

He turned to Addy beside him. “What the hell?”

The basement fell into tense silence. Too tense. Even fuzzy as his vision was, Cyrus could see clearly through the dark that he had crossed a line. The woman before him had been angry before, but now she was much more than that. Much worse. He got the sense that if he said another word, he would be slapped straight across the face.

So he let her speak first. Rather, shout first.

“How dare you, Cyrus! How dare you put me in that position.”

“You put us in this position remember?” he shouted right back, thus beginning a volley of vicious words and expletives so loud and booming against the basement walls, Cyrus didn’t hear most of them, even the ones expelled from his own mouth. It was a fight that had been building for months now, possibly even years and now that their lives were so close to ending entirely, it had to come out. It always had to come out at some point.

But Cyrus hadn’t considered the consequences of shouting in the basement of wherever they were, nor would he have cared if he did. He was too full of despair and frustration to give even half a thought to other occupants. That is, until one of those occupants, a young woman by the look and sound of her, barged in through the door and shouted, “Would you two quiet down in here?!”

“No!” Addy shouted right back, resilient, but by some miracle, Cyrus experienced a brief stroke of genius. Or at the very least, cleverness. An opportunity had presented itself, one he hadn’t expected or even considered, but to hell if he wasn’t going to take it.

He couldn’t see much, but he could see the light from the space beyond the door and anger or frustration or rage be damned, he was going to get there.

Before anyone else in the room had a chance to act, Cyrus seized Addy’s wrist, yelled “Run!” and dragged her towards the light, not hesitating to shove the intruder aside on the way.

——————

There was nothing there. Nothing left of what was once the great Ellegian Consulate Archives, save a dramatic set of stairs and a small maze of hallways with very well-made, if aged, tiled floors. Corra stomped down one of those halls, her heavy footsteps echoing through the entire chamber.

“I can’t believe this,” she growled under her breath as she passed another room with rows of shelves that had been stripped clean. “Not even a scrap page of a book.”

“Weird that Eriaas guy didn’t have the sense to think this place would be raided as soon as his team left,” Finn commented, sounding far less angry than she felt. “Or he didn’t care…”

Corra groaned. “I can’t believe this,” she said again. She didn’t even bother peering into the next room they passed. It was dark and spacious and completely devoid of contents. Like everything else down here.

“I guess the bright side is that the Society won’t find it here either.” Seriously, Finn was way too cheerful. His positivity was grating on her nerves. “If it was here at all. Seems like it’ll be lost to time. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes,” Corra snapped and then corrected, “No. Nothing’s lost to time. It’s out there somewhere. Somebody has it.”

“And you have the Transmission,” Finn noted. “So as long as you never meet, it’ll all be fine.”

Corra looked back at him, a glare set deep in her brow. Somewhere inside her, she knew he was probably right. Whoever had the thing, at least up to now, seemed content keeping it a secret. It was safe to assume they’d continue to do so and with any luck, the device was useless without Corra’s puzzle piece anyway. It was logical.

But Corra wasn’t feeling very logical right then. A stroke of anger mixed with frustration mixed with despair had overtaken her and logic from Finn was the last thing she wanted to hear.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” she barked, turning back to face him.

“No, actually,” Finn admitted with a casual shrug. He was examining a rock he’d picked up between his fingers.

Corra’s jaw dropped half an inch before it tightened. “Seriously? I dragged you out here to look for this thing and we find–” she waved her hands around them “–nothing! And you don’t get why I’m upset.”

“It was a longshot anyway.”

“It wasn’t a–” Corra ran her hands down her face then stared at him, feeling fury behind her eyes. “Why aren’t you angry?”

Finally, he met her gaze, but it wasn’t with the determination and hatred she was expecting, or that she craved. He simply looked confused. “Why would I be angry?”

“Because it’s my fault!” Corra despaired, without hesitation. “It’s my fault we’re in this stupid cave and there’s nothing here and I wasted your time and your crew’s time and–”

Finn’s face screwed up and he made a ‘pfft’ sound. “We were already here anyway. It didn’t take much time. And it’s not your fault we didn’t find any–”

“It is my fault!” Corra argued at once, marching back down the hallway towards him. “It’s completely my fault! So why aren’t you angry, huh?” She growled and then, without thinking, put her hands on his chest and pushed him.

“Wha–hey!” He stumbled backwards and she followed, a storm brewing inside and over her head.

“I brought you down here for nothing. I hijacked your whole ship for a stupid wild goose chase.” Her fingers curled and she pushed him again.

“Corra–”

“You should be angry. You should be resentful. Why aren’t you mad?!”

When she reached out to push him again, this time he seized her arms and held her back. “Corra,” he said sternly, but not sternly enough. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“What the hell is the matter with you?!” She ripped herself out of his hold. “Why don’t you hate me?!”

A strange silence fell in the echoing hallway. Corra searched over Finn’s face, desperate to find what she was looking for there. Desperate to see the rage and the fury, even disappointment, but she found none. He was just watching her with confusion and, god forgive, sadness.

“What?”

Corra’s hands clenched into fists and she rubbed her knuckles into her temples. “Why don’t you hate me?” she asked again, calmer this time as reality set back in. She’d lost her sight of it for just a moment.

And Finn put her fear into words. “We’re not talking about the Transmitter anymore, are we?”

Well, this conversation was going to have to happen eventually, right. It had been gnawing away at her from the inside out all week and perhaps they had reached the point where she could no longer avoid it. Slowly, her fists fell back to her sides and she drew in a deep breath.

“I don’t get it, Riley.” Her voice was quiet when she spoke, barely even a whisper. “After everything I did–all that I did to you–God, Riley, I spent years believing that if we ever met again, you wouldn’t even look me in the eye. As you shouldn’t have. As I deserved. But–I come back and–and you want me to stay? You ask me to stay.”

She could feel Finn’s intense gaze upon her, but she couldn’t bring herself to return it. “Corra–”

“No,” she cut him off harshly because she wasn’t sure she could bear to hear what he had to say. “I nearly got you killed. I acted stupidly and put your life in danger. I risked our ship, our livelihood and our lives.”

“What? The whole thing with Callahan? Corra, he was transporting allies, I wouldn’t expect you to–”

“No, that’s not even it,” she interrupted again. “Even if I hadn’t done all that. Even if–” She shook her head. “I mean Archeti…”

Now, Finn immediately jumped in. “I don’t blame you for that. No one blames you for that–”

“Well they should,” she barked sharply. “You should.”

“Cyrus told me everything. You didn’t know what you were doing, you didn’t know–”

“I did know,” she snapped. “It took me a long time to realize that and come to terms with it, but I did know.” She expected him to interrupt again, but he’d gone quiet, watching her patiently. “Cyrus told me what the Caelum Lex was, what it could be used for. And I gave it to a man who I knew would do bad with it. It was a mistake, but it was an informed mistake. I’m done claiming ignorance.”

Finn was still staring at her, more stunned than anything else, which only made the frustration in her core deepen. He didn’t get it. He wasn’t going to get it. She had to make him get it.

“You’re right, I never had any bad intentions. I never meant any of it to happen.” She started towards him. “But it happened because I made choices and I took risks that I shouldn’t have taken. And I nearly destroyed you in the process.” She stopped just inches from him and prodded her index finger into his chest as she spoke. “So. Where. Is. Your. Anger?”

Finn looked down at her finger for a long moment, saying nothing, but she could see by the way his shoulders lifted and fell, his breathing had become heavier. His jaw was clenched. And when he finally met her gaze, she saw it. The rage and the fury she’d been craving. The retribution she deserved. When he seized her hand and threw it aside, she didn’t resist.

“You want anger? Fine,” he growled, lowering his face to glare at her. “Fine, I’m angry. I’m angry you left.”

It wasn’t quite what she was expecting, but the force of it was about right. “That I left?”

“Yeah! You left,” he said again, his tone cold and harsh. “When I needed you most. Injured and dying and having just lost–” He let out a crazed laugh. “Everything! My home, my family, my friends, everything that mattered to me. Do you know how miserable that was?!”

“Yes! And I caused that!” Corra wasn’t sure if what she was feeling was relief that she was finally getting the backlash she was owed or fear at seeing Finn like she’d never seen him before. Regardless, she barely noticed the water forming in the corners of her eyes.

“No you fucking didn’t!” Finn snapped. “Callahan stabbed me. The Society destroyed Archeti.”

“Neither of which would have happened if I–”

“No!” Finn groaned loudly. “No, just stop. God, you want me to yell at you? You want me to get mad and scream and shout so you can feel punished and seek redemption? Fine. Whatever. If that’s what you need. But I’m not going to just read the lines you want to hear. You want my anger, you can have it, but only for what you actually did.”

Corra braced her fists sternly at her side. “I know what I did.”

“And that’s easy isn’t it?” Finn growled. “It’s easy to assign yourself blame for a knife you didn’t wield and a terraformer you didn’t pilot.”

“Easy?!” Corra repeated indignantly. “You think that’s easy to admit my fault for that? Do you know how many people died?!”

It was the wrong question. Finn’s glare intensified instantly. “Oh I fucking know how many people died.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Then how can you say it’s easy?!”

“Because it’s all distant causality! You were one of many factors that lead to something terrible. So was I for working with Callahan to begin with. So was, God, Cyrus, for letting us take the Beacon at all. So was the fucker who first thought ‘hey wouldn’t building a spaceship be neat?’ Fuck all that, you want to make amends, admit to the one crime you actually did commit.”

“And what the hell is that?”

His tone was colder than she’d ever heard him speak. “Abandoning your friend when he needed you at his side.”

No matter how many times Corra had dwelled on this inevitability, she wasn’t prepared for it. Instantly she felt like all the air had been knocked from her chest. She couldn’t breathe. Certainly couldn’t speak. She just stood there, staring at him, completely dumbfounded, with lines of silent tears streaking across her cheeks.

It felt like ages before she was able to manage, “I–I had to–”

But Finn was already shaking his head in distaste. “You didn’t have to do anything. You wanted to. Because you thought it would be easier.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t want to hurt yourself. You didn’t do it for me. You left for you.”

“I had to make amends–” Every choked word sounded like a cheap excuse even to her own ears. “I joined the Conduit — I– I wanted to save people to–”

“And you could have done that anyway.” He was still watching her as though she was a disappointing child and he her father. “You could have told me. You could have said goodbye. You could have kept in touch. I could have helped, Corra. You didn’t have to disappear.”

Her mouth opened as she hoped a response would come from it, but none did. She didn’t have any excuses left. She’d made a choice that day and she’d made a vow to stick with it. But she had no defense for it, no offering to make up for it.

“I should tell you though, you’re wasting your time.” The librarian patted the shelf next to him. “Gotta lot of stuff here, but nothing about any ancient transmission myths I’m afraid.” He shrugged. “But anyway, feel free to keep browsing. Might find something even better, y’know?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Addy laughed, still sounding far too uncomfortable.

“Thanks!” Cyrus added, pretending to be helpful while internally cringing at himself for ending up in that situation to begin with. As soon as the man was out of earshot, he turned to Addy and said as much. “Shit.”

“It’s fine,” Addy assured him, though she looked just as unnerved as he felt. “It’s fine. He was just trying to be helpful. It’s not a big deal at all.”

Cyrus frowned at her. “You’re sure? Corra specifically said–”

“I know what she said,” Addy snapped, running a hand through her hair. “But she was just being cautious. What’s he going to do? Nothing will happen, it’s fine.”

Cyrus was not convinced, but now that they’d already been caught in a compromising situation here once, he didn’t want to repeat the incident. Hopefully she was right. Hopefully he was just a local looking to ‘help’ some misplaced tourists. And hopefully he could just let it go.

“Maybe we should get back to reading,” he suggested at last and Addy nodded as she took his arm and they started down the aisle back to their desks.

They only took a few steps though before something rolled out onto the floor in front of them.

“What’s that?” Cyrus asked, and it was the last thing he was able to do before gas started to spew from the device and his vision turned black.

—————–

“One. Two. Three!”

Corra heaved in a breath and held it as she pushed against the heavy stone slab one last time. Finally, at long last, it shifted out of the way. She practically choked the air out of her lungs and leaned over, bracing her tired hands on her knees. Finn, also exhausted, sat down heavily on the offending rock and ran the back of his wrist across his sweaty brow.

“I take it back,” he breathed through gasps. “Maybe none of the locals have come snooping around here after all.”

Corra couldn’t spare the lung capacity to give more than a half-hearted laugh. When she’d pictured the two of them exploring this archaeological dig site, she had expected a gate, probably a lock she could pick, if they were super unlucky, someone would have installed some additional security after Eriaas had abandoned the place, but probably security that could be overridden.

What she hadn’t expected was a rock.

It had taken nearly half an hour to get that thing to budge and another fifteen minutes to get it clear of the entrance. The entrance which now, finally, she stood up to give her complete attention to.

At first, her eyes blinking through the daylight, she couldn’t see much of anything in the dark shadow beyond the slab. It wasn’t a large hole in the ground. Maybe five feet in diameter all around. There were layers around the immediate edge, old floors of long-gone buildings, brick, concrete, one might even have been marble. But finally, the floors gave way to something else. Stairs, by the looks of it, that lead downward and beyond what Corra could see from up on solid ground.

“Well that’s not creepy at all,” said Finn, peering down into the hole himself.

Corra glanced up at him. “Hope you’re not claustrophobic.” She held out her hand. “Give me your lighter.”

“Think you’re gonna need something bigger than that, cap’n.”

He handed it to her anyway as she carefully lowered herself through the centuries of flooring and onto the stone steps beneath. A cool breeze hit her legs and made a shiver run up her spine. Maybe she was a little more claustrophobic than she thought. Still, she’d done way worse lately than go cave exploring.

Regardless, she growled, “You better be right behind me,” to Finn as she lit the lighter and started her descent. He was right, the lighter barely illuminated anything because, she found quite quickly, this staircase was massive. Even holding the lighter as far from her body as she could, she couldn’t catch glimpse of any walls or floors. Just stairs, as far as the orange flickering light could cast.

She heard Finn’s footfalls behind her and soon he entered the flame’s circle. He looked around into the darkness with her for a moment then casually placed a cigarette in his mouth, plucked the lighter from her hand, lit it, and handed it back. “Shall we?”

Corra started down the stairs, but cast him a nasty glare as she did. “Still haven’t kicked that habit yet?”

“You weren’t here to reprimand me for it,” Finn remarked, exhaling a plume of smoke into the darkness.

She rolled her eyes and made a mental note to scold Daelen for not taking up the gauntlet in her absence. For now, though, she contented herself to glare at him as they continued down the steps into the black abyss below. The further they got from the hole they’d come through, the more her eyes began to adjust. The dirt and debris that had coated the entrance started to let up and reveal the true deep blue-grey hue of the stone they walked on. And ever so slowly, the stairway narrowed and Corra caught glimpses of shining pillars lining the walls.

“Can you imagine this place when it was new?” she breathed. Images of proper men and women in delicate post-Division War garb sweeping down these steps flashed across her mind. Meetings in the depths of the archives to plan a whole new colonization effort. Taking stock of their ancient artifacts and–

“It’s hard to imagine it even now,” Finn commented bluntly and Corra shot him another glare.

“Well if you’d been taking better care of the Beacon’s stock, we would have a generator and an actual light to use,” she shot back and he chuckled.

“Good thing I still smoke then, huh?” He gestured to the lighter. Corra opened her mouth to retort before realizing she didn’t actually have one. He took the pause as his opportunity to change the subject, “So let’s say we find this thing. This Transmitter thing. What’re you gonna do with it?”

“Get it out of here and put it somewhere safe,” she guessed.

Finn nodded thoughtfully. “No intents to use it then? Try out that little shiny tube thing. The Transmission.”

Corra laughed indignantly. “Really? You think I should use an ancient device to transmit a message whose contents I don’t know to an unknown party? Does that seem like a good idea to you?”

“No,” Finn admitted, but then he grinned. “Could be fun though.”

His smile was contagious. “Yeah, maybe a little.” The thought had certainly crossed her mind. There was nothing Corra loved more than tales of the distant past, of the Origin, of the Ark and the Great Crossing of the first colonists. And sure, if she was being honest, that love was at least part of what had driven her here at all. She didn’t want someone she didn’t trust having some potential power, of course, that was the real reason. But curiosity certainly had something to do with it too.

“But no, I’m definitely not messing with anything unless I know exactly what it is and what it’ll do,” she decided at last. The last time she’d tangled with ancient technology hadn’t turned out so well. “We’re just making it secure. That’s it.”

Finn nodded slowly, exhaling another cloud of smoke. “Beneath a big shitty rock isn’t secure enough as is?”

Corra shot him a look. “When you and me are able to move it with just the two of us?”

He scoffed and flexed his bicep. “Hey I’m pretty strong.”

“You’re pretty out of shape.” She prodded his arm with her index finger.

A long laugh erupted from his throat, echoing throughout the dark chamber. “And you’ve been checking me out apparently?”

It was her turn to laugh. “Just taking stock is all.”

“Well. You’d think a team of archaeologists would have had more sense than to just stick a rock on it and call it a day,” Finn concluded as they finally seemed to reach the bottom of the stairs. They stepped down onto the solid ground, an intricately tiled floor that spread out before them. in all directions, the walls forming a vast circle.

“Y’know what I mean?” Finn went on. “This place is centuries old. Wouldn’t someone want to better protect it?”

Corra walked in a wide arc through the room, holding the lighter out as high as she could put as much of the contents into her vision as she could. But no matter how far she cast the light, she never saw anything. A layer of dust covered the floor, brushing up into the air as she walked across it, and she could see patches where it was thinner. Patches in very specific, geometric shapes.

A sigh passed Corra’s lips as realization set upon her. “Not if there’s nothing left to protect…”

Cyrus looked up and nearly jumped when he found Addy suddenly right in front of him, leaning forward on the desk. She had a mischievous smirk on her face. “Just saw you reading so intently over here, thought I might come over and see what was so fascinating.”

Cyrus blinked back at her, unsure if there was something he was missing. “You know what it is, you picked it out for me to go through. And it’s not fascinating. It’s really dull.”

Addy rolled her eyes. Okay he was definitely missing something.

“Just thought I might come over and see what a handsome stranger like you found so fascinating,” she said with more force.

“Ooooh.” Cyrus pointed at her, nodding in understanding. “Got it.” As Addy narrowed her eyes at him impatiently, he cleared his throat and matched her lean on the desk. His lowered his voice an octave or so when he answered, “I’m afraid that’s top secret, miss.”

Addy barely held back a snort of laughter. “You do your top secret research in a public library?”

Cyrus glared at her briefly, but pulled himself back into character and leaned back in his chair casually. “Gotta do what ya gotta do, miss.”

“That so?” she mused, walking slowly around the desk, letting her fingertips drag across the surface as she made her way to his side. She kept her head held high as though admiring the library’s massive overhead windows, but he caught her sneaking a glance at the notebook still laid out in front of him. Dramatically, he snapped it shut and pushed it aside and she let out a ‘hmph’ of indignation.

“Top secret,” Cyrus said again, importantly.

“Right.” She was eying the book again, held beneath his palm. “But it is public property. So surely you wouldn’t…mind…” Cyrus watched her closely, ready to defend the useless book against this imaginary threat. He could see Addy’s fingers twitching in preparation. He pushed the book further out of her reach. “If I read this.”

In a flash, she seized a completely different book from his pile and fled with it.

“Hey!” Cyrus called after her, forgetting for just a moment to keep quiet as he stumbled out of his chair and chased after her all the way into the nearest row of shelves where she was frantically pretending to read what he recognized as a scientific journal dealing with a study of local metal foundries. It was enough to make even the most enthusiastic metal researcher fall asleep. But of course, it was top secret.

He seized her wrist and pulled her towards him, wrenching the book out of her hand, a scolding already on his tongue, but she got there first.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed in an excited whisper, seizing his wrist as well and pulling him even closer. “You’re researching the Transmitter, aren’t you?”

Cyrus gasped and put a hand over her mouth. “Hush, someone might hear.” He glanced over both his shoulders at the empty row of books and then looked back at Addy, his glare narrowed in on her. “How do you know about that?”

“It just so happens,” Addy began, delicately unraveling herself from their tangle of limbs from the succession of dramatic poses, “that I,” — she took two steps away from him and then snapped her head back his way — “am researching it too.”

“No,” Cyrus gasped, stepping after her as she started to walk away. “That’s too big a coincidence.” He grabbed her wrist again and pulled her back towards him. “Who sent you?”

She refused to look back at him, choosing to admire the ceiling insistently. “I can’t say.”

Cyrus growled and gripped her a little tighter. “It doesn’t matter. You know too much. I can’t let you leave here.”

Now, she turned to him with overwrought shock and dismay, sliding her arm out of his grip. “And what do you intend to do with me then?”

Cyrus hadn’t actually thought that far through the story in advance, but he steeled himself and said in utmost seriousness, “Whatever I have to do to keep this intel safe, miss. It’s too important.”

Addy regarded him with suspicion and then skepticism and then, finally, a smile. “I have a proposition for you, my good sir.” She pointed her finger at his face and started to circle around him. The finger trailed across his shoulder and along his back. “Spare my life and I’ll tell you everything I know about the Transmitter.”

“And if you know nothing?”

“Then you can kill me.” She stopped behind him and slid her hands onto his shoulders. Leaning forward, she whispered in his ear, “But I don’t think you’ll need to.”

Cyrus scoffed and shook his head. “Or I can just take care of you and go back to my reading.”

She continued her circle and this time stopped in front of him. “You could do that.”

“But?”

She pressed her palm to his chest and leaned in close. “But then you’ll never find the Transmitter,” and even closer, “Agent Soliveré.”

A third voice suddenly joined the conversation. “Excuse me?”

Cyrus immediately swallowed the line he had on deck (‘how do you know my name?!’) and jumped backwards at the interruption. Addy, also, stumbled a few steps backwards, straight out of their little fantasy. She straightened her hair with her hand and was bright red when she faced the man who had spoken up at the end of the aisle. Cyrus knew he was too red to even look at him…

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” the man said, his footsteps coming closer. Cyrus carefully glanced over at him. An ordinary looking guy, holding a stack of books. A local, probably worked here, by the looks of it. Probably wondering what these off-worlders were doing acting out noir scenes in his library.

“Oh no, that’s okay,” Addy said hurriedly, shaking her head and holding out her hand. “We were just–eh–” She glanced at Cyrus, hoping he might jump in with an explanation. He did not. “No worries,” she settled on at last.

“It’s just, I heard you guys mention the Transmitter,” said the man and suddenly Cyrus didn’t feel embarrassed so much as incredibly worried. There was one thing Corra had made very clear to him, if nothing else. No one was to know what it was they were looking for. Why, she didn’t say. But the ‘no one’ part. That, he’d understood.

“Is that what you two had all those books out for?” the man asked and Cyrus noticed Addy also had gone suspiciously pale.

“Wha–no, I don’t know what–no, that’s not,” she stumbled but the man laughed heartily.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re not in trouble.” He smiled. “We get tourists and legend-seekers snooping around every so often. Used to it by now. No big deal.”

Cyrus tried to say, “Okay,” but what came out was more like a high-pitched, nervous sigh.