Finally, she reached her quarters and slid open the door. She’d only be gone for the day so there wasn’t much packing to be done. She threw a bag onto the bed and started to gather what little she needed. A few snacks, a supply of water, a tablet to reference what she found, she could probably borrow a gun from Corra. And of course, before she left, she’d have to make sure everything for Kalli was squared away.

Currently, the little girl was across the hall with Cyrus. Cyrus, who was a whole other can of worms right now. Fleetingly, Addy paused to look out into the hallway and the closed door, a knot in her chest.

They hadn’t fought about staying aboard the Beacon for the time-being instead of returning to Archeti. They hadn’t even talked about it. Gods, they’d barely talked at all since that one awful fight back at Eriaas’ mansion, except about their daughter. Kalli, as always, was the one safe subject, the topic they always agreed on and understood entirely. It only became so blindingly apparent when they agreed on absolutely nothing else.

Neither of them had said anything about how long they would be staying. Neither of them had brought up the fact that Cyrus had quietly chosen quarters separate from hers. Neither of them had commented that they had seemed to be taking their meals at different times. They spoke for over an hour while trying to find Kalli’s lost purple dragon toy, but neither Cyrus nor Addy seemed willing to address the fact that their relationship was quietly falling apart.

Addy was still frozen in place, staring at Cyrus’ door when that very door suddenly slid open and Cyrus emerged from inside. Quickly, she looked away, but not quite quickly enough for him not to notice.

“We got a landspout,” he said, leaning in the doorway. Code for when their tiny tornado had worn herself out into a far lesser threat. Kalli was asleep. Addy smiled.

“What did you two get up to this morning?”

Cyrus shrugged and meandered a few steps into the room, his fingers still trailing on the doorframe. “A spaceship landed on a remote planet covered in dirty laundry and was eaten by a three-headed monster. We avenged it.”

“The usual, then.”

“The usual,” Cyrus agreed, but then his eyes traveled down to where her hand was still halfway in the bag she was packing. “You, uh, going somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah,” Addy answered, hesitantly closing the bag. “Corra’s got this mission, I’m gonna help out a bit.” Cyrus eyed the bag, then her and nodded slowly, his lips held a little too tight to be natural. He was hiding something. Not very well, when did he ever? But there was something he was holding back. Something he was doing a lot lately. Anger, maybe. Frustration? Disappointment? It made Addy’s heart wrench more than she’d anticipated, seeing whatever words and feelings he held go unspoken, unaddressed. And suddenly she did something she wasn’t expecting.

“I was actually going to ask if you wanted to come too.”

Cyrus looked up at her, surprised as she was at the invitation. “Come with you?”

“Yeah,” she said, sticking to it regardless. “It’s a simple thing. Just reading some old books, digging for information, the likes. Nothing all that dangerous, just research.” She let out a chuckle. “All us nerds are good for.”

Cyrus returned the laugh half-heartedly, but shook his head. “I should stay here and look after Kalli.”

Of course he should, that was Addy’s plan after all. In the end, there was no better babysitter than Kalli’s own father while she was away. But without thinking, she shook her head and said, “Alyx can watch her.”

He was now eying her warily. “I don’t know, she might be a bit much for Alyx…”

“Well there’s Daelen or Cai–”

“She’s a bit much for anyone who’s not used to her.”

“Then they can trade off.” Addy dropped the bag back on the bed and walked over to him. “Come on. Come with me. It’ll be fun.”

He wasn’t looking at her at all anymore. Instead, he was staring at her bag with a slight crease in his brow. Finally, he glanced her way and asked, “Do you really want me to come with you?” in the kind of tone that implied he couldn’t possibly believe that she did.

The question drove a spike of pain through her chest. They truly were falling apart. And as little as she’d recognized it lately and as little as she’d allowed herself to care, suddenly she cared. She cared a lot. Cyrus was by no means perfect and as of late, he’d been so far and distant from her, she had started to forget how deep that caring went. Once upon a time they’d been two happy fools falling madly in love as they ventured across the Span, facing danger at every turn. It seemed so long ago now, but for the first time, it occurred to her that maybe she didn’t want to have an adventure in order to get away from Cyrus. Maybe she wanted an adventure to try and get Cyrus, the one she’d fallen for, back.

Carefully, she stepped towards him and took both his wrists in hers. “I do,” she told him, meeting his stare. “I really do.”

She tried not to smile as his cheeks turned a shade of pink she hadn’t seen in years and he looked down at his feet. “I dunno, Adds, it could be dangerous, I mean–”

“A library?” She scoffed. “Dangerous? Cy.” She lifted a hand to his cheek. “What happened to the fearless ‘terror of the Span’ who used to call me from the middle of secret anti-Society missions? Or write me messages from the far edges of space? Or take me on dates to dangerous gang-ridden areas of town?”

Cyrus sputtered his indignation. “That was an accident!”

Addy laughed and cupped his other cheek. “Please, Cy. Come with me. On this daring trip to the library. Please.” The smile dropped a little from her face as she said, “We need this…”

He still looked reluctant. He definitely didn’t look happy. He didn’t even look like he agreed. But finally, to Addy’s great relief, he slipped his arms delicately around her waist and kissed her forehead. “Alright. If it’s that important to you, I’ll come.” She grinned and was about to pull his face towards hers for a real kiss, when he grinned mischievously and added, “But you get to break the tornado warning to Alyx.”

Corra lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Carthis doesn’t have allies themselves, but they’ve made no indication they’re outright opposed to them either. If they want to take Ellegy and, more importantly, hold Ellegy, they’re gonna have to leave some things alone to appease its people. What easier thing to leave than the centuries old system of power and abuse they love so much?” Finn opened his mouth again, but Corra cut him off, “And no, Fiear’s supporting the Ellegian rebels who want to keep the place exactly as is sans Society control. There are a lot of sides in this conflict, but none of them care about my side.”

Finn propped his head in his hand and frowned thoughtfully at her. “Y’know, for someone who’s been gone five years, you sure as hell know a lot about what you missed.”

Corra just chuckled. “I wasn’t around, but I wasn’t gone. This territory war isn’t my concern, but the human impact is. And my friends’ lives are. I’ve helped out where I could.”

“Helped? Raisa said you were buried deep in the ally trade, getting yourself sold and bought by top-shelf assholes.”

“I was. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t slip some intel the Dionysian’s way here or there. Or that I couldn’t convince a contact to send some work to the Beacon.” Her small smile spread into a grin. “Or have Leta convince Fiear to attack the absolute perfect diversion for my own missions.”

Finn returned her grin. “Devious. I like it.”

Corra released a long sigh and leaned back against the couch. “I mean, you can’t just abandon your flock entirely. Who knows what they’d get up to without you?”

“S’pose that’s true. When I left Fiear alone, he started a war.”

Corra grimaced. “That he did.” A moment of silence fell before she finally mustered up enough courage to ask, “You two doing okay?”

Finn looked amused. “You make us sound like a bickering married couple.”

“Aren’t you?”

“We’re fine, as far as I know.”

Corra leaned forward and rested her chin in her hand. “He doesn’t mind your –uh– less than enthusiastic feelings about that war you mentioned? Couldn’t help but notice this ship’s steered pretty clear of any battlefronts.”

“Being able to do so is a luxury I’m not willing to sacrifice,” Finn muttered. “Besides, this boat is a mess, you said it yourself. What help would we be to the great Soliveré fleet?” He let out a laugh that Corra got the feeling held a tinge of bitterness, but whether or not that bitterness was aimed at the fleet or the state of the ship, she couldn’t begin to guess.

“We’re still friends, if that’s what you’re asking,” he went on. “We talk, occasionally meet up, though less than we used to. Busy man and all. But does he hate me for wanting to keep my nose out of it all? I don’t think so. He asked us if we were interested in helping exactly once, many years ago.”

“And what’d you tell him?”

“That I’ve lost my taste for violence.” Finn smirked darkly.

Corra couldn’t ignore the lump that formed quite suddenly in her throat. She didn’t need to hear him say why. She knew why. The day still played out in perfect recollection in her own head every so often, just as it was now. The day Archeti fell, at the time, felt like a blur, but years later every detail was in focus. Every mistake she had made. And everything she could have done to change the outcome.

She forced herself to swallow the lump, but when she spoke, all she managed was, “That’s understandable,” and even those words came out dry and brittle.

Finn’s face flashed momentary realization and for a second she thought she saw a hint of apology, but he hurried onward, “But really, how much good could we do, anyway? The Beacon’s barely afloat as it is.”

“Yeah,” Corra agreed instantly, nodding perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Definitely.” An awkward silence hung in the air as Corra tried to recompose herself. She could feel Finn watching her with interest, but she couldn’t meet his stare, instead locking her eyes on her own hand, tense and clenched at her side.

Finally, at last, she drew a deep breath. “Well. I did a little research on this archive and the Transmitter and all. Want to help me draw out a plan of attack?”

She could have sworn she saw brief disappointment cross his face, but Finn smiled and leaned forward in his chair. “Let’s do it. Tell me what you got.” The smile grew a little wider. “I gotta say, cap’n. I’m lookin’ forward to working with you again.”

Corra regarded him curiously, but then a mischeivous smile formed on her own face. “Yeah? Let’s get through this briefing and see how you feel after, hm?”

—————

Addy trotted down the stairs to the lower deck, purpose in her step. She was full of energy, more than she had been in weeks — months, even. For the first time in ages, she was excited for something. Something that wasn’t just another boring budget meeting or planning committee negotiation or even the grand opening of a new business which was, pathetically, the most exciting event that happened on Archeti as of late.

No, for once, she was excited for something different. An adventure, like the old days. Corra had just finished laying it out to her: the Beacon would be touching down on the very moon they’d only escaped from days previous, though fortunately the other end of it. Finn and Corra themselves would seek out the mysterious archive Eriaas had mentioned to search for the artifact the Society had been so interested in. But as they did that, they needed someone to scour the archive itself, the books, for clues.

Addy had said yes before Corra had even finished asking.

She turned around in alarm and marched back up the stairs. Fiearius, who seemed to have been dazing off waiting for her, perked up and followed, his mouth half-forming a question that never quite got out. Before he got the chance, Leta demanded of the guard, “What were you just saying?”

The woman looked startled and then embarrassed and then quickly nervous. “N-nothing, miss,” she explained hurriedly. “Just idle gossip, won’t happen again, miss.”

Leta shook her head in frustration. “No, no, it’s important. What you said. Gates slipping out in the last course?”

Now the poor woman simply seemed confused. “Wh — yes, miss. The schedule indicated Admiral Gates would be discreetly departing early as always.”

“Always?” Fiearius asked, finally seeming to somewhat catch-up in the conversation.

“The Admiral tends to always leave these functions early, sir. The first rank guards that watch him are only ever scheduled until dessert.”

The panic that had been slowly rising in Leta hit its peak. “The assassin had to act before dessert–” she breathed.

“Because he’d be gone after,” Fiearius finished for her, eyes widen.

“But now–”

They both swung their heads toward the ballroom floor where front and center, Admiral Gates was back to his duties, already deep in some political discussion with his fellow military brass.

Fiearius was the first to react.

“You two,” he ordered to the guards, “With us.” He marched down the stairs, Leta on his heel. Together they pressed through the crowd, side-stepping guests who were laughing, drinking, singing — they had no idea an assassin was among them.

Adrenaline surged through her and Leta had half a mind to yell to Gates across the room, but then she glimpsed it, in the corner of her eye: a flash of black metal. A gun. It was locked in a man’s hand, at his side, moving in and out of sight as its holder marched toward Gates through the crowd.

Shock bolted through her veins. Her hands reached for Fiearius’ arm, and then, before she could think to do otherwise, she pushed herself forward and seized the weapon and the man’s forearm in one motion. Gritting her teeth, she twisted his hand hard, drawing the weapon away. Fiearius was yelling her name as the guests jumped back, a chorus of screams erupting around her. The assassin wrestled his hand back, growling furiously to free himself, but in the back of Leta’s mind, she knew she’d done it. She’d already drawn enough attention to him.

“Over here!” a  guard yelled over the fray, while another gasped, “Grab him!”  In a flash, the man was ripped  backwards, his grip freeing from the gun. Leta saw that Fiearius had swung his forearm hard against the man’s throat, dragging him away. The assassin struggled furiously against Fiearius, but his efforts died off when the guards arrived, parting the crowd.

Shock drowned out sound in Leta’s ears as she watched, transfixed. It happened in slow motion: Fiearius stepped away, chest heaving hard; the guards withdrew their weapons, then forced the assassin against a wall, and seized his wrists with metal restraints.

Awed murmurs rippled through the crowd — horrified, confused, even some drunkenly excited at all the commotion. But when the guards escorted the assassin from the room, the scene somehow became a lot more chaotic. She lost sight of Gates who was being flocked to in worry by everyone in the room who needed to earn his favor. She even lost sight of Fiearius amongst the clammer.

She was vaguely aware that people were talking to her, clapping her on the back, congratulating her on a job well done. How brave, they said. How selfless. What a relief she was here to act.

But she’d gotten lucky, said the cold, logical voice in her head. That was all. They’d accidentally forced the assassin to act sloppily, and caught him in a desperate act. If they’d been off at all, the assassin would have done his job quickly and quietly in the mansion somewhere, not desperate and urgent in the middle of the dance floor, not sure he’d get another chance before his target disappeared. Dazed, all Leta could focus on was her own breath, still shorter than it should be, and her own heartbeat, still pounding away in her chest relentlessly.

She was also vaguely aware of the gun she’d wrestled away still sitting heavy and cold in her hand. Part of her wanted to just hand it to someone to get it away from her, but another part, the part she recognized as the one that had spent too much time in the company of space pirates on the Dionysian, wanted to grip it tighter.

Slowly, she began to drift out of her daze and then, much more suddenly, she was dragged out of it by a frantic tugging on her arm. Shaking her head, she forced herself back into the moment and found herself face to face with Liam, whose face was stark white.

“–hear me? Leta? Are you okay?” he was saying, grasping her hands in his.

“Fine,” she said. Realizing she’d sounded a bit harsh, said again, more softly, “I’m fine. Really. I–”

But Liam looked as alarmed as she’d ever seen him, his eyes frantic. He held her elbows and drew her closer.

“Leta, you need to listen to me, right now. I found something,” he explained breathlessly, starting to steer her away from the fray. “When you were gone, I followed someone, I found — ”

“Liam, liam, it’s okay,” she interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all taken care of. He’s in custody. He failed. Everything’s okay. The guards have the assassin.”

But to her growing dismay, his response was not, “Oh thank goodness.” Nor was it any sort of relief at all. He simply knit his brow, confused.

“Assassin? What? No, I don’t know anything about–” He shook his head furiously. “Leta, there was this man that stuck out to me. I shadowed him for a while. He seemed normal enough, but he went upstairs, I thought why the heck not, and I followed him and he made a call. I heard the whole thing.”

“What thing?”

“It was–about you. About Soliveré. That you didn’t know–Something with–Ascendia? And Vescent and Ellegy and –They said things about–” He was stumbling over his words, speaking too fast, but he came to a sharp halt and heaved a deep breath. “He’s a Councillor, Leta. A Society Councillor is here.”

Leta felt as though all the blood in her body had turned cold. Her grip on Liam’s shoulder tightened and she leaned towards him as she hissed, “What? How do you–Are you sure?”

“Positive, without a doubt,” Liam answered without skipping a beat. “I know what I heard. He’s a Councillor.”

“Who is?”

Liam opened his mouth, but words didn’t come out. He frantically looked around the two of them, his head whipping back and forth until finally it stopped and his wide eyes grew wider. “Him,” he breathed and Leta followed his line of sight to, “The one talking to Soliveré.”

Not just talking to Soliveré. Smiling with Soliveré, laughing with Soliveré. The two of them seemed to be sharing some cordial joke or story like any of the vague, polite society acquaintances at this party. And then the man, who looked no more interesting than any other middle-aged man in attendance, reached up his hand and let it drop affectionately on Soliveré’s shoulder. His fingers tightened. And that was when Leta had to do something.

What, however, was another matter.

“Fiearius!” she shouted to him without even thinking. He looked over at her, surprised. So did the man beside him. And before she could even consider reason or logic or the best plan of action, she remembered the gun in her hand. Almost of its own accord, it lifted into the air.

A loud bang and a cacophony of gasps filled the ballroom.

“So I ask again. I’ve built a good relationship with the rebel leader.” Fiearius brought his forearms against his knees, leaning in.  “They’re on our side, they’re ready to take our orders, you signed off on this course of action, so why are you trying to hire a Vescentian tourist as our strategic team’s Ellegian expert?”

Gates met Fiearius’ stare coolly. “Unfortunately, the president–”

“Oh, fuck,” Fiearius growled preemptively, dropping his head in his hands.

“–has deemed the rebel forces on Ellegy too risky of an investment.”

“Of course.” Fiearius slapped the arm of his chair dramatically before rising to his feet and starting to pace again. “Of course, they’re too risky. Because they might pose a threat to your little expanding empire.”

“We’ve been ordered to cease contact with them immediately and any further relay of confidential plans is prohibited.”

“I can’t believe th–no, actually–no, I can believe this. I can completely believe this. I knew you would pull this shit before the time came.” He clenched a fist and somehow held off on punching a hole in the wall with it. “Gods forbid there’s anyone at the end of this who you owe anything to.”

Leta watched Fiearius as he tore across the room, a barely contained tornado of rage, but when she spared a glance at Gates, feeling her own spike of anger (it was going to be just like Vescent, like Ascendia, all over again, wasn’t it?), she didn’t see the man she expected. She thought she’d find Admiral Kaiser Gates, stern, resilient and, as always, uninterested in his counterpart’s opinion of Carthian policies. Instead, she saw Admiral Kaiser Gates, hesitant and thoughtful, like he didn’t really think cutting off the rebels was a very good idea either.

“–waiting for the day it’s my turn,” Fiearius was still ranting across the room. “When’s that order going to come from the president? Put Soliveré on the chopping block, he’s ‘too risky’, he’s–”

“Fiear,” Leta interrupted, softly, but he heard her. His fists were still clenched in frustration when he turned to look at her, but his anger lessened in her gaze. He glanced at Gates who met his eyes firmly, then back at Leta whose mouth tightened a little at the corner, and then finally he turned away entirely.

“This is ridiculous,” he declared. “The assassin’s probably long gone by now. He failed his mission over an hour ago, I’m not waiting here any longer.”

This time, no one argued as he marched towards the heavy security door, unlocked the bolts, swung it open and walked out.

Leta stayed where she was another long moment, watching the man still beside her, unflinching and unmoving. She released a small sigh before rising to her feet and following Fiearius back upstairs.

——————

Fiearius stood on the edge of the party, jaw tightened, expression unreadable as he leaned his shoulder against a pillar. Leta stood beside him, silent for several minutes as she watched couples glide through the dance floor, though she wasn’t really seeing them. Her mind was back in the panic room, considering what Gates had said.

“What do you think changed their mind?” she asked finally, her voice an undertone.

“They found out,” Fiearius answered. He didn’t look away from the dance floor as he spoke.

“About the rebels meeting with Dez?” Leta guessed. “How?”

“Who knows? They’ve got spies everywhere. On Ellegy, surely. Could have planted one inside the rebel cell itself. Hell, maybe even my pretty you-clone watcher’s been digging through my messages when I’m not looking, what difference does it make? If they know, that alliance is dead,” Fiearius growled under his breath. “I told him not to. I told him it was too big a chance.”

“But he met with them anyway,” Leta sighed. “And now Carthis thinks the Ellegian rebels are in league with terrorists.”

Fiearius groaned. “How many times do I have to tell you, Dez and his people–”

“Aren’t terrorists, I know,” Leta cut in. “Weren’t responsible for the bombings, didn’t cause the transit meltdown, are just easy scapegoats, I know, I know. But you told me yourself what they have done.” She raised her brows at him pointedly. “And none of it Carthis would approve of. So I’d venture a guess that the Ellegy meeting–”

Fiearius was already shaking his head and sighing. “Not good. Yeah. I know.”

They fell into a thoughtful silence again before Leta mused, “Do you know what they’re planning?”

“Not a clue.”

Leta paused. Then a smirk twisted her lips. “Well, maybe when we get back to the ship, we should call the rebel leader and ask.”

Fiearius shot her a look of amazement. “Call the rebels? Despite Carthis’ very clear prohibition on contacting them? You, newest member of the strategic team, breaking the rules? Already?”

Leta blinked slowly, full of innocence. “Prohibition? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never got any messages mentioning a prohibition, did you?”

Fiearius barked a laugh and then wound his arm around her, drawing her to his side warmly. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Leta grinned, dropping her eyes to the floor. After a moment, her brow creased and she ventured, “About that me-clone spy. You haven’t…?”

Fiearius glanced down at her wryly. “Just who do you think I am?”

“Well then, that was a nice break.” Leta glanced back at Gates just as Fiearius let his arm drop to his side and took a step away. The older admiral looked between them, a little too knowingly, Leta thought, before walking straight through the space Fiearius had left beside her. “Back to work then?”

“Back to work,” Fiearius sighed in agreement as he and Leta followed the man back out of the hallway. Still standing by the entrance were the guards they’d had posted there before secluding themselves.

“Anything weird happen while we were gone?” Leta asked the woman and she dutifully shook her head.

“Nothing out of the ordinary at all, miss.”

“And isn’t that a relief,” Leta muttered under her breath. Fiearius snorted his agreement and held out his arm for her to take as they walked down the steps towards the main ballroom.

“I suppose I’ll have to look into the who’s, what’s and how’s of this little ordeal, but for now I’m thinking a drink is in order,” he said, faking a posh nobleman’s accent as best his working-class Satierian tongue could manage. “Do you concur, dear lady?”

“A drink wouldn’t go amiss,” Leta admitted though she paused halfway down the stairwell to peer out over the crowd. “I should probably find my date though.” Fiearius made a sort of disgruntled noise, but fell obediently silent as she searched the room for a sight of Liam. Hopefully he would forgive her for abandoning him for so long in the middle of a gala. Maybe he’d be more willing if, as soon as she found him, she told him they could leave the gala.

She had just thought she caught sight of a familiar face when a voice behind her slowly drifted into her conscious awareness. “–whole schedule’s off now,” the voice was saying. One of the guards she’d just spoken to. “Admirals need a lot of protecting I guess so the first rank’s gonna be pulling overtime to accommodate. And you can guess how happy Lady Illusán about that.”

“Not,” said the other guard with a snort.

Leta didn’t understand why she suddenly felt a need to listen in on this conversation about the budget and schedules of the hired security. It certainly wasn’t interesting, but something compelled her to pay attention when the first guard went on, “Precisely. I mean the lot of them were supposed to be let off-duty when Gates slipped out in the last course, but now–”

And just as suddenly, Leta was very glad she did.

“So you think he’s after Gates,” she concluded, not in the mood to humor his ego. “Who’s still milling about with those majors near the bar, by the way. And I think he’s after you. We now have less than ten minutes to figure something out. How about we agree to disagree and work on the contingency that it could be either?”

“Fine,” Fiearius agreed, back to business at last. “You got an idea?”

Leta smirked. “I do. But you’re not gonna like it.”

—————–

Liam half-walked, half-ran down the hallway. Walked only because he knew it was in everyone’s best interest to stay quiet and undetected, but ran because he absolutely had to find Leta and Fiearius as soon as physically possible. He’d known something was fishy about the ordinary-looking man who’d been staring at them from across the room, but despite his suspicions, the worst he’d expected to uncover when he followed him upstairs to his guest quarters was a wealthy Carthian with a particularly nasty grudge against his cluster’s second admiral. The truth, he’d found in his years of reporting, was typically droll.

Not this time.

When he reached the stairs, he barrelled down them, no longer caring who heard. There wasn’t time. This go-around, one of the guards let out a semi-scolding, “Hey–” but Liam was already out of the stairwell and into the ballroom before he could manage much more.

For all he knew, this discovery was the exact thing Leta and Fiearius had been so worked up over when he’d found them earlier. But they had been in a different room. And if they knew what he knew, shouldn’t he have run into them during his investigation? If they knew, where were they now?

He stumbled to the edge of the dance floor, paying no heed to the group of women who glared at him for nearly bumping into them. Hurriedly, his eyes scanned the room. The two of them shouldn’t have been hard to spot. Both were tall, which helped and Liam had never met anyone else with hair as ridiculously iconic as Admiral Soliveré. If they were in the ballroom, he’d see them. And he didn’t see them.

Abandoning the dance floor, he started to race through the support hallway where he nearly ran into a parade of waiters carrying ornate dessert platters towards the main hall, but still no sign of either Leta or Soliveré.

Next he tried the foyer, the entrance hall, the vestibule. He even attempted to head back towards the stairs until the same guard that had called him out before pointed a finger his way and growled, “That’s the one! Been sneakin’ around–” Liam quickly hurried the opposite direction.

He was running out of places to look. Most of the ballroom was sitting down to eat their elaborate single-serve cakes, but the two people he needed, the two people he absolutely had to tell this news, were nowhere.

Where were they now?

He watched her retreating back as she followed after the tall redhead plowing through the crowd, but something else caught his eye. He wasn’t the only one watching them. A perfectly average-looking middle-aged man stood near the edge of the dance floor, seemingly engaged in a conversation with a group of socialites. But whatever the topic of conversation, it clearly didn’t interest him for his eyes were fixed on Fiearius and Leta as they moved across the room.

Liam might not have thought anything of it, had he not just been abandoned by two people who clearly thought something was amiss. But as it so happened, there was something about the man’s stare that bothered him. Something far too intense, far too meaningful, for simple curiosity.

Well, he hadn’t become an investigative journalist for nothing. He straightened his jacket and slipped into the crowd.

————-

Leta followed on Fiearius’ heels, weaving herself through the throng of guests. She felt a stab of guilt at leaving Liam behind again, but she had something far bigger to worry about: finding the assassin that had infiltrated the party.

Fortunately, Fiearius seemed to know what he was doing. Or at least he was walking as though he did, stalking with the utmost importance through any clusters of people standing in his way. No one was foolish enough to try and stop him.

“What’s the plan here?” she asked, ignoring the strange looks she was receiving from the gowned women and suited men they passed.

“Well. The message said the deed had to be done before dessert’s served, right?”

“Why is that, do you think?”

“No idea,” Fiearius admitted, finally leading them off of the ballroom floor and into one of the support hallways that looped around it. “But it’s a starting point.”

“And a time limit,” Leta added.

“Right.”

Without hesitation Fiearius pushed open a set of double metal doors that led to the kitchen. Inside, wait staff flooded by with trays of drinks, entrees and horderves. Fiearius didn’t wait for one of them to notice him before he demanded, “When’s dessert?”

The sudden barking question startled a few of them. Confused a few more. Finally, a woman answered, “Fifteen minutes, sir. We’ll be happy to bring it to your table if you–”

But Fiearius had already stopped listening. Leta rushed after him as he abandoned the kitchen and started down the hallway again. “Then our assassin’s running out of time. We need to find him.”

Leta nodded, but of course, that was the best solution. Track him down before he’s able to act and put a stop to it. But as they passed by an archway that looked out onto the ballroom, she found herself slowing to a stop and staring.

“There were pictures in the file, I think I’d recognize his face,” Fiearius was saying, his voice ever growing quieter as he continued to walk away from her. “Maybe we can get some guards in on this. No, I don’t want to cause any panic. We need to be subtle, remove the threat, don’t let anyone notice. You and me can split up though, cover more ground, are you good at face descriptions? Am I?” Finally, he seemed to notice he was alone. “Leta?”

It was true, what he’d said. The assassin was running out of time, but so were they. And as Leta watched the masses of people flit and mingle and dance across the ballroom, it became abundantly clear that they didn’t have enough.

“Fiear, there’s no way we can find him in time,” she pressed quietly as she felt him rejoin her in the archway. “He’s only got fifteen minutes, he’s probably not going to wait til the last second and he’s likely not even on the floor anymore. We need a better plan.”

Fiearius faltered. “We could look for the weak points. Where he could make his strike. We could–”

“Fiear,” she cut him off, “There’s no time. This mansion is huge.”

Furrowing his brow, he moved his gaze to the dance floor. “We’re not too late, are we?” he breathed, sounding more fearful than Leta had ever heard him.

For her part, she didn’t understand. She’d never known Fiearius to be worried about potential assassins. Usually, he’d scoff at such a threat and dare them to try, but perhaps there was something she didn’t know here. Perhaps in their years apart, he’d experienced something that shook him. Perhaps he had reason to not be as confident as he used to be. Regardless, she didn’t like the look on him. “If we were too late, you wouldn’t still be standing here,” she pointed out gently, laying her hand on his arm, hoping he’d find it comforting, but suddenly he regarded her with a sharp, confused stare.

“What? What does that have to do with anything?”

Now she was certain she didn’t understand. “If it was too late, you’d be dead,” she elaborated more clearly, feeling a little less sorry for him now.

“Why would I–,” he began and then promptly shook his head. “You think he’s after me?”

“Of course. The note said something about a five-star funeral, it’s obviously referring to an admiral.”

“There’s more than one admiral here,” Fiearius said. “Why would you assume he’s after me?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded him impatiently. “Who doesn’t want you dead?”

 “But who’s stupid enough to try and off me?” he barked, apparently amused by the notion. There it was. The Fiearius she recognized. All shreds of sympathy left her.

The creaking stopped and Leta looked up as Fiearius leaned back to look down. “You wanna give this a go, kiddo?”

Of course she didn’t. Heights terrified her. Which was something Fiearius was well aware of. “Hurry,” she growled again, rolling her eyes. “I’m tired of looking up at your ass.”

The creaking resumed as Fiearius continued his climb, though Leta was certain, through the noise, she heard him remark, “Liar.”

Refusing to reward bad behavior with attention, Leta ignored him and went back to watching the vast double doors like a hawk. The party inside seemed to be going strong and, as far as she could tell, no one was wondering where they had gone. Except maybe Liam. Gods, she probably should have said something to him. Or invited him along. He was a reporter, surely he had some investigative skills that would come in handy. At the very least, he was good company.

Leta was just considering going back inside to fetch him when a door directly beside her swung open. At once, she jumped back, but when Fiearius emerged from beneath the shadow of the doorway, a proud smirk plastering his face, she calmed.

“Unlocked the stairs,” he chimed and headed back into the narrow corridor. “Come on up.”

Casting one last glance in the direction of the ballroom and internally hoping Liam would understand, Leta followed.

The upper level of the mansion was just as beautiful as the rest, but infinitely quieter. Of course, everyone was down below, dancing the night away at the party. Fiearius and Leta left the grand balcony and entered a hallway, lined with white marble pillars and floored with lush red carpeting. After the first corner, Leta was already turned around, but Fiearius continued on with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where he was going.

“How do you know where his quarters are?” she had to know.

“Found the guest room ledger in the downstairs study,” he answered easily.

“The downstairs study? Shouldn’t that have been locked?”

“It was.”

“So you broke into the private study to steal secure information about the guests,” Leta said. “And you called Liam a shark.”

Fiearius glanced back over his shoulder and smirked. “Takes one to know one.”

“Speaking of which.”

“We don’t need to–” Fiearius began, but she cut him off, feeling a spike of that familiar anger run through her.

“We do need to. You were horrible. I wish I could say I was surprised at you, but frankly, I’m not. I had just been hoping you’d be able to be an adult about it.”

Fiearius locked eyes with her, but his expression was unreadable. “Leta–”

“Liam’s done nothing to you. Nothing. I know you’ve had bad experiences with journalists in the past, but that’s no reason to act like such an ass to every one you meet,” she went on. “Especially one that I’m introducing as someone who matters to me.”

Fiearius continued to stare at her for a long, tense moment until finally, he sighed. “Look, I respect that, honestly, but–I don’t trust him,” he said, speaking far more calmly and cohesively than she’d expect from him. “He knows too much. He’s in a position of power that could destroy–everything I’m working for.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like having things held over me.”

“But he not holding it over you,” Leta argued. “He would never publish anything about what you’re doing. He believes in our cause, he’s on our side and he wants us to succeed.”

“And you’re so sure of that?”

“Yes!”

But Fiearius shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t trust him.”

“Why? Honestly? Because he knows about the Councillor initiative or because I’m sleeping with him?”

To her surprise, he admitted, “Maybe a bit of both.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but found herself slightly too stunned to manage it. Moments later, she collected herself. “Well. I’m not asking you to trust him. I’m asking you to trust me. And trust me, he’s on our side. And I would appreciate it if you would at least try to be nice to him.”

Leta almost thought he wouldn’t answer, the way he continued to stare at her across the hallway, silent and stoic. But to her great surprise, the stubborn, impossible man she’d known for half a decade somehow, miraculously, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Alright, fine. I’ll play nice. If it’s that important to you.”

“It is.”

They exchanged a silent but meaningful look of agreement, and then Fiearius said, “C’mon. Should be this door over here.”

Leta followed Fiearius a few more feet and watched as he easily picked the lock on a grand white door which swung open to the guest room on the other side. Fiearius strode straight inside as Leta double-checked that no one was watching them.

The room was exactly what one would expect from the mansion. Huge, lavishly furnished with shining red wood cabinets and long flowing white curtains. It held the biggest bed Leta had ever seen and its doors opened up onto a balcony nearly larger than the room itself. The one thing it didn’t seem to contain was many personal items of its tenant. There was a small bag in the corner and a tablet sitting on the desk, but otherwise you might not have known there was someone staying here at all.

“Well, you did know it’d be unlikely you’d find anything,” Leta told Fiearius who already looked disappointed. After she’d said it, however, determination masked his face.

“Don’t give up just yet,” he said, crossing over to the desk to pick up the tablet. He turned it over in his hand and switched it on, a blue glow lighting his face.

Leta rested her hands on her hips. “You don’t really think he’d be that stupid.”

“Of course not,” Fiearius said, scanning through the device. “Check the bag.”

This whole escapade was starting to feel a bit idiotic. Of course they weren’t going to find anything. What had she been thinking? Falling, not for the first time, for Fiearius’ dramatic flair instead of trusting her gut. Still, she did as she was told, approaching the bag, crouching before it and delicately poking at the opening. It looked like what she’d expect. Some clothing. Toiletries. Normal things that normal, if rich, people carried with them while traveling.

“Fiear, we should go back downstairs.”

“In a minute,” was his distracted answer across the room.

Leta stood up and glanced back at him. “You’re supposed to be raising money for the war. That’s more important than rooting around in some poor guy’s belongings.”

“Hang on.”

“If he is a Councillor, and I’m beginning to think he’s not, you’re not gonna find out here.” She moved over to him and tried to take the tablet from his hand, but he resisted, his eyes fixed on the screen. “What–”

“You’re right,” Fiearius said, sounding a little numb. “He’s not a Councillor.” When Leta just narrowed her eyes at him, lost, he turned the screen towards her where a message was blazed onto its face. She read it hurriedly, ready to scold him and drag him back downstairs. But then she read it again, more thoroughly. And one more time.

Finally, she looked up at Fiearius, her eyes wide and her stomach suddenly tied into a knot.

Fiearius met her stare. “He’s an assassin.”

“I wonder,” said Leta suddenly, “the kind of fundraising you could be doing right now if you were talking to investors instead?”

“Well I wonder how our investors are going to feel knowing you brought a shark into their midst, eh?”

“Shark?” Liam repeated with a laugh. “I’ve published nothing but good things about the war effort and our allies. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Yet.”

“Well, Admiral,” Liam laughed, but his face was dark, murky, “Can’t say I know what I’ve done to offend you — “

“Nothing,” Leta interrupted, her gaze ice cold. “You’ve done nothing wrong. And you don’t have to answer to him. Let’s go find your banker — even that’s more worthwhile than this conversation.”

Leta gazed him one last cold glare before slipping to Liam’s side, taking her drink, and disappearing into the crowd of people. Fiearius watched them go, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a long sip. Well that hadn’t gone as he’d planned. Oh well. He had things to take care of anyway. Ignoring the group of guests waiting to talk to him, he wandered off.

—–

This wasn’t Leta’s favorite way to spend an evening, but she was prepared to grin and bear it if it meant helping the war effort. Which was how she found herself at a round banquet table with six other strangers, eating dinner, drinking champagne, and currently forcing a laugh at someone’s joke that wasn’t funny. Anything to fundraise.

At her side, Liam was deep in conversation with an older man, discussing the state of media these days (“The Society has their hand in almost everything,” Liam was saying, “but they’ve inadvertently made room for independent journalists to break through the noise.”) While he was talking, he caught her eye and half-smiled.

Leta waited for a pause in the conversation before leaning her shoulder against his. “Hey,” she said quietly. “About earlier. At the bar.”

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but Liam brushed his hand sideways dismissively. “Don’t worry about that,” he whispered back.

“Really though,” she insisted. “I probably should have mentioned before. Fiear–Admiral Soliveré and I have a bit of…history.”

He looked more amused than surprised. “You don’t say.”

“I’m really sorry. He had no right to be such an ass to you.”

“It’s not your fault, Leta, really. Lots of people don’t like journalists. I’ve read the articles, he has a lot of cause to not like journalists. Hell, I don’t like journalists.” But it wasn’t just because he was a journalist, Leta thought privately, but Liam went on, “I can handle a little backlash from Soliveré.” His lips pulled back into a grin as he leaned in closer to add softly, “But if it’s bothering you, why don’t you make it up to me later tonight?” He squeezed her knee warmly under the table, and Leta finally felt herself relax.

She turned back to the table and engaged in a conversation with an older woman. Leta asked about her life and promptly forgot everything she was told, they covered a brief praise of recent Carthian victories, and then, just as the woman was asking her about medical school, Leta was suddenly interrupted. By Fiearius. Again. He materialized at her side and then jerked his head sideways and said, “Come here.”

“What?” Leta set her drink down, hard, with a bit of a thud. She lowered her voice. Hopefully he would leave before anyone noticed he’d arrived. “No, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“I’m in the middle of dinner,” she hissed.

“So? Come on.”

Leta could feel that they were attracting attention. The table grew quiet, and the woman at her right side was blatantly staring between them, her mouth hanging open. Fiearius glared at her briefly before focusing in on Leta.

“It’s important,” he grunted. “Trust me.”

He caught her eye meaningfully and then turned on his heel and stalked off, clearly expecting her to follow. Well she had no intention of doing that. After the way he’d acted earlier? She had no intention of spending any more of her evening arguing with this man. But–what the hell was so urgent? Leta sat there, torn and angry, before she finally —

“Excuse me,” she said, mustering a smile and rising from her chair, dropping her napkin back on the table.  “I’ll be right back.”

Liam arched his eyebrows at her in clear disbelief.

“It’ll just take a minute,” she added, and then she went after Fiearius. He was waiting near the dance floor, and Leta hissed under her breath, “What the hell is the matter with you? This better be important — “

“Oh, it is,” Fiearius assured her. Then he took her wrists and started to draw her onto the dance floor.

Immediately, Leta dug in her feet, pulling her forearms back. “That’s what you dragged me away for? To dance with me?” She tore her hands away. “No, absolutely not. How dare you? I’m not here for –”

“Come on, I need a place no one can eavesdrop.” He tilted his head towards the clusters of people around them, in direct earshot. And then towards the dance floor, where people were traversing the space quickly, sparsely and under the spell of a song.

Leta groaned. Well, he had a point.

“Make it quick,” she snapped.

Leta put her palm on his shoulder, and his hand went to her hip, drawing her closer. Too close, like it was the old days. Before they could get too comfortable (Liam must have been in shock at the point), she muttered, “Well?”

When he didn’t answer, Leta was convinced that there really wasn’t any important news, he had just made it up to tear her away the table. She was just about to pull away sharply when he answered in her ear, “There’s a Councillor here.”

Leta’s whole body tensed. Her palm tightened on his shoulder. “What?! How do you know?”

“Gates gave me the guest list this morning. Told me to research the investors a little, y’know? Make sure I know who’s who,” Fiearius explained. “Most of them were just rich Carthians, as you’d expect, but there was one. One that stood out.”

He turned her around expertly, her skirt billowed out around her ankles. “The majority of these people, they have these long family histories. This guy? Just showed up about twenty years ago. No history before that. No family. Just…appeared. Around the time the Society first took a holding in Synechdan.” He lifted his brows indicatively. “I know the Synechdan Councillor was at one point involved in Carthian politics. Dez says he had insider info no one who hadn’t been involved could have. So how good of a cover, hm? Pull off your fake Councillor death, create a new identity and then use your knowledge to insert yourself in your enemy’s upper crust?”

It was a good cover, Leta had to admit. But, “Doesn’t that seem kind of risky? For a Councillor?”

“It does,” Fiearius agreed, “But if he can pass along details of Carthian war plans? Wouldn’t it be worth the risk?”

“Not if it’s that easy to uncover it,” Leta argued. “Surely someone else could pick up on the lack of history and–”

“And assume he’s just new money trying to hide it to save face,” Fiearius finished for her. “I talked to a very nice gossipy group of ladies. They all know. And they all have theories. But none of them are ‘secret Society Councillor undercover’, believe me.”

“Then how do you know those other explanations aren’t true? Aren’t they more likely?”

Fiearius just shook his head. “I’ve got a feeling. Maybe I’m wrong, but it all fits. And I want to check it out.” When she frowned in confusion, he elaborated, “He’s staying in the mansion for the week. Got a room in the guest quarters upstairs. I’m gonna investigate.”

Now, Leta was shaking her head. “Fiear, even if he is a Society Councillor, what exactly do you expect to find just lying around his room for someone to discover?”

“No idea, but if I’m right? This may be my only chance to find this guy. I have to take it. I have to at least try.” He squeezed the hand that he held as they danced. “You with me?”

Leta hesitated. It sounded farfetched at best, downright foolish at worst. But despite all logic telling her otherwise, there was something in Fiearius’ tenacity that made her question her own sense. After all, what if he was onto something? It really wasn’t a chance they could pass up. So going against all her better judgment, she nodded. “Alright. Let’s look into it.”

—————-

Unfortunately, investigating the man wasn’t quite as straightforward as Fiearius had made it sound. After failing to gain access to the upper level of the mansion from three different access points (the guards employed for the evening apparently wouldn’t even sway for an admiral and his questionable need to use the upstairs lavatory), Leta was quite certain it just wasn’t going to happen.

Fiearius, as always, had other ideas.

“Would you hurry up?” Leta hissed under her breath, folding her arms tight over her chest to combat the nighttime chill. She peeked around the corner into the still empty courtyard and the busy ballroom through the windows beyond and then looked up at the dark figure of the man carefully climbing the trellis up to the balcony. “What if someone sees you?”

“Isn’t that why you’re keeping lookout?” Fiearius whispered back. The trellis creaked as he moved further up the wall.

“Just–can’t you go any faster?”

Corra found herself pausing at the edge of the table. She was crouched in position, ready to launch herself out the door the moment the opportunity afforded itself. And it had. Now was her moment. But she hesitated.

“So we’re going to move on then?” the other voice asked.

“No.” There was a pause. “Not yet. If we move on now, our budget for the project will be cut and we’ll be sent back to the frontlines. I don’t know about you, but given a choice, I’d rather be here excavating a dirt pit than on the Ascendian battlefront.” Another pause before she added, “No, we’ll stay here until we manage to figure out our next step in the mission.”

“You think they’ll wait that long?”

The woman laughed. “Of course they will. If we find this thing? If it does what they say it does? If it even exists? It’ll be the most significant machine in the history of the Span. They’ll wait lifetimes as long as there’s hope. I guarantee it.”

Corra felt her heart still. The most important machine in history? It sounded like–well, it sounded like, in Cyrus’ words, bull’s butt. Even so, though, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just stumbled onto something huge.

Before she convinced herself to linger once again, Corra shook the thoughts from her head, remembering instead the face of Cy and Addy’s little girl who needed to get out of this place and get home. She took a silent deep breath, braced herself and then slipped silently out from under the table and through the door before anyone was all the wiser to her presence.

Corra had never wanted to get back to the Spirit so badly.

————————

“It really wasn’t that bad,” Addy was telling Alyx as they sat around one of the Beacon’s dining tables over drinks and dinner. They’d arrived back on the ship only an hour ago, but already things were starting to feel more normal to Finn than ever. Their old crew back together again. Getting along. Enjoying a meal. This, more than anything else, was what he’d missed.

“More boring than anything else,” Cyrus added, bouncing Kalli on his knee.

Alyx, who had bunkered down to listen to what she’d thought would be a dramatic story, failed to hide her disappointment. “Well I’m glad you’re alright,” she tried and Addy smiled at her. “So we should take you back to Archeti then? I’m sure they’ve missed you.”

But then, Addy hesitated. “Mm yeah, I suppose so.” She shared a glance with Cyrus who, Finn couldn’t help but notice, didn’t look exactly contented by the answer.

“Not that we’d mind keeping you around, of course,” put in Daelen from across the table.

“Oh yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you have to leave,” Alyx added hurriedly. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. Just, if you want to go back, we can take you, I mean–”

“It’s fine,” Addy laughed, holding up her hand and shaking her head. “I get it. And yeah, I don’t know.” Again, a furtive glance at Cyrus, whose expression had gone suspiciously blank. “Maybe we’ll stick around a little bit? It’s kinda nice being with everyone again. It’s been so long, y’know?” She nudged her stone-faced boyfriend affectionately. “Right?”

Cyrus mumbled something in response, but Finn stopped paying attention to whatever marital troubles were playing out in front of him. Instead, he looked around the table. Alyx, Daelen, Cai, Addy, himself, they were all here, but–

There was one face missing from the scene. It couldn’t be. Corra was gone.

She’d just been here a moment ago, he was sure of it. She’d said something about how nice of an attic Addy’s friend had and then — How did she slip away so quickly? And more importantly, how far had she gone?

“Be right back,” Finn muttered as he slipped out of his chair and headed for the main hallway. He knew where she’d gone without even a second thought. The way she’d been acting the past few days? It was no mystery. He had been fully aware that the moment no eyes were on her, she’d try and make her escape. He just hadn’t thought she’d manage to have no eyes on her in the middle of a crew dinner…But now, the only question was whether or not he’d get there in time before she succeeded.

Finn quickened his pace.

Fortunately, for all of her skills and sneaking, when he rounded the corner into the side airlock, he wasn’t met with an empty room and a sealed door, but the sight of Corra herself leaned against the wall beside her ship, fiddling with some sort of tube in her hands. When she heard him enter, she glanced up.

“That took longer than I expected,” she pointed out with a smirk.

Finn pretended he wasn’t as out of breath as he was. “You were waiting for me?”

Corra lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I’ve already wronged you enough. Figured leaving without saying goodbye wouldn’t be the best move if I ever want forgiveness.”

For a moment, Finn was stunned into silence. Forgiveness?

“Corra, I –” he began, but she stepped forward and swiftly pressed her finger to his lips to silence him.

“Please don’t,” she said. “Just–It was really good to see you. Take care of the ship. Take care of the crew. Please don’t try and sell her again.” She narrowed her eyes on him. “She’s yours and she’s Alyx’s and she’s all of these people’s, no one else’s. I don’t want to see her with anyone else. Do that for me at least.”

Her finger drew away and he said, “Of course. But Corra–”

“And make sure Cy and Addy are okay,” she went on. “They’re not right now. But they need to be. For that beautiful little girl’s sake at the very least.”

“I don’t really know if I can–”

“And hug Leta when you see her,” she spoke over him. Was she — no, those couldn’t be the slight glint of tears in the corners of her eyes. “And tell her I miss her and I’ll try to be in touch soon. And–”

“Corra.” Finn cut her off, taking her hand in his. “Why don’t you hug Leta when you see her? Why don’t you help Cy and Addy? Why don’t you look after this ship?”

She was already shaking her head and tugging her hand from his grip. He didn’t loosen it. “I have things to take care of, Riley. I have to go.”

“You can take care of those things here,” Finn insisted. “You want to research this, right?” He reached down and plucked the metal tube from her hand. “We can help. We can do that on the Beacon.”

Corra let out a sharp laugh. “And risk those bounty hunters after you? No way.”

Finn rolled his eyes dramatically. “Bounty hunters? Really? You think we’re afraid of a few bounty hunters?”

“They’re pretty nasty…” Corra muttered and he raised a skeptical brow. “Riley, I’m not staying. I have my own life now, my own missions, my own tasks, I’m not bringing those down on the Beacon. What we all had before? The pirating and the stealing and all that? After what came from that? How many lives were –” She shook her head again. “No. That chapter is over.”

“Right,” Finn agreed, releasing her hand at last. “That chapter is over.” She was glaring at the floor now so he reached over and lifted her chin with his index finger til their eyes met. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t start a new one.”

Corra’s eyes went a little wide. Finn’s hand dropped to his side and he smiled at her knowingly. Without another word, he turned from the room and headed back into the hallway. He didn’t need to look back once more. There was no hurry, he knew.

The Spirit would still be here come morning.

“Oh god, Cy, she’s adorable,” Corra said as she straightened up and her friend approached her. As emotional as she felt, she still laughed a watery laugh as she put her arms around him and asked, “How are you her father?”

Cyrus chuckled against her temple as he wrapped her in his embrace. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Cy-Cy,” she chimed, moving her hand to his cheek as they broke away.

To their side, Finn cleared his throat. “Not to be cliche, but –” He nodded towards the window where the sun was starting to set over the horizon.

“Right,” Corra agreed, separating herself from Cyrus. “We should get a move on. Not much time.” And if this plan were to go right, the timing would have to be precise.

Cyrus and Addy exchanged glances. “A move on what, exactly?” Cyrus asked. “There’s at least three dozen agents around here, who knows how many more on that ship. They don’t know we’re here, I doubt they’ll turn a blind eye on the two newcomers smuggling out three mysterious cloaked figures.”

“Who said anything about cloaks?” was Finn’s amused response.

Addy rolled her eyes and muttered, “Point being, what’s the plan? How can we leave without anyone noticing? Is there some secret passage we don’t know about?”

“Not at all,” Corra answered, strolling over to the window to look outside. Her eyes scanned over the agents working around the dig site, the few hovering by the path and finally settled on their ship, down in the main docking area. “We’ll walk right out through the front door.”

The answer didn’t seem to calm any fears. “Sorry, let me just clarify this,” Cyrus said, slowly this time. “We’re going out the front door. And there are…no cloaks?”

“None.” Corra tapped her fingers against the wood frame of the window. “You all ready on my mark?”

There was a shuffle of nerves and dismay behind her. “I–I guess, but–” Addy began, just as the grey metal beast parked down the hill wailed an awful bellow so loud the ground beneath the house trembled. Behind her, Kalli shrieked, Eriaas muttered, “What the–” and below, she saw every Society agent look up from what they were doing, abandon their post and take off in a sprint towards the ship.

Corra grinned and looked back at her entourage. “Then let’s go.”

——————–

Minutes later, after a scramble to collect as many of Kalli’s things as they all (mostly Finn) could carry, the group was hurrying down the stairs and Cyrus, as always, was questioning everything.

“So it’s a drill? Like an emergency drill?”

“They’re required to run them every so often, whenever their fleet’s higher-ups demand,” Finn explained in Corra’s stead as she crept down the last few steps and peered into the hallway. Just in case. Many years and many escapes had taught her the hard way that it was better to be safe than sorry. Fortunately, the drill seemed to have done the job. The hall was clear. She moved ahead.

“So you just found out when they were going to have one?” Cyrus, ever nervous, checked for himself before following after her. Kalli was clutched in his arms, clinging to his neck. “And planned to rescue us at the same time?”

“No, no, as far as we knew there were none scheduled,” Finn replied. “But this one–” Corra felt him gesturing at her– “Somehow got a message through the channels that they’re supposed to.”

For perhaps the first time in history, Cyrus looked impressed at Corra’s ability to use technology. “How’d you manage that?”

There wasn’t  time to explain how she’d managed it. How she’d freed the mother of a man who had a connection in the right place to give her access to the right system to allow her to falsify her credentials and request an emergency drill of this particular ship at this particular time to allow just enough of a distraction to execute an extraction mission. So she just shrugged and said, “I have my ways.”

Cyrus didn’t seem satisfied, but they continued through the house, Corra scouting ahead to make sure they were in the clear every step of the way. It seemed the plan had worked. There were no agents in sight. Protocol dictated there shouldn’t be. In the event of an emergency drill, all crew had to be on the ship following their designated emergency duties. In theory, they wouldn’t see a soul until they were safely away from here and back on the Beacon.

But as Corra traversed the last few steps into the foyer, something caught her eye. A brief flicker of movement. It wasn’t, she realized quickly and with a heavy sigh of relief, a living being. No, just a hologram spinning slowly over the long table those agents had been huddled around when she’d come in.

Still, it kept her attention a moment longer than it should have. She didn’t even know what it was. Some bizarre machine unlike any she was familiar with. A long thick tube extended from a series of three domes side by side. Out of the tube were more, skinnier tubes reaching for the sky. It looked ancient and strange, but it struck a chord and she suddenly had to know.

“What are they looking for here?”

Cyrus waved the question off, as though it was unimportant. “Oh just some old legendary machine.” He gestured into the room her stare was fixed on. “The Transmitter or something? Sounds like a load of bulls–” He stopped himself as he remembered that his daughter’s ear was just inches from his mouth. “Bull’s butt?” he corrected hesitantly, earning a devious giggle from Kalli and a glare from Addy.

Corra, however, had stopped paying attention, frozen on the precipice of that room as the word stuck in her head. Transmitter? There was no way that could be related to the ancient device she currently had in her possession, the Transmission. And yet, there was no way it couldn’t be. Either coincidence was too unlikely.

“Finn?” she called, her voice still hushed out of precaution. “Get them to the ship. I’ll be right there.” He probably would have liked to argue, but she didn’t give him, or anyone else, the chance. If the Span was sending her a sign, and surely it must have been, she would be a fool not to look. She slipped into the room and approached the hologram.

It looked even more confounding up close. Intricate patterns entwined around the machine. Wires sidled out from its base. Corra couldn’t tell from the hologram itself whether it was small or massive. But there was something about it that rang familiar to the strange little tube stowed away in the Spirit.

She stared at it a moment longer before finally she was able to drag her focus down to the tablet left abandoned in front of it. Well, whatever was on there couldn’t hurt to have, right? Without second-guessing herself, she slipped her CID out of her pocket, slotted it into the input port and let it do its thing. Data-mining CID functionality was another thing there was rarely time to explain.

The little light on the device turned green just moments later, letting her know it was ready to go. “Thanks, Society,” she mumbled in a sing-song voice as she removed the CID and shoved it back into her coat. “I’ll just take this and–”

Suddenly, a voice broke out somewhere behind her. Corra jumped and spun around, but thank god, there was no one in the room. Judging by how quickly that voice was growing louder, however, there soon would be.

Her eyes darted to the door that she’d come through. Her exit. Just as two others, others she only needed to identify by the thick black libreras on their skin, entered it.

Corra was under the table before the women even had a chance to glimpse the room.

“–you sure they don’t need us on the ship? It is a drill,” one was saying nervously, glancing back at the door.

“Don’t worry,” said the other with an air of authority. “Taigen can run it. He’s done it a thousand times. It’s just bureaucratic nonsense.”

“If you say so…”

The longer Corra stayed here, the more chances she was giving them to discover her. The women had moved all the way into the room, leaving her doorway wide open. If she was quick, if she stayed low, she could slip out. She just had to be fast. And silent. And–

“It’s becoming increasingly clear to me that the Transmitter isn’t here,” said the voice above her. “The archives, as a whole, aren’t here. We would have picked up a signature by now. The terraform hasn’t altered enough to cover anything deeper.”