“P’ahti, p’ahti,” Kalli called as she barreled over to her father who was laying on one of the plush beds with his hand over his eyes, apparently trying to take a nap. Kalli seized his other hand and tugged it. “Can we go outside today? Please? Please please please.”

Cyrus slid his hand from his face and glanced over at Addy. She grimaced and he sighed. “Sorry, issyen,” said Cyrus, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Not yet.”

Kalli let out a groan and returned to building her fort, though not without kicking one of the pillows in frustration first.

Across the room, Cyrus apparently gave up on his hopes of napping and sat up on the bed. Tiredly, he scratched his messy hair and unshaven face and for just a moment, he caught Addy’s eye. She smiled, just lightly, but he had already looked away. As if being trapped in an attic wasn’t already tense enough, the couple’s relationship was quite decidedly ‘on the rocks.’ They hadn’t mentioned it or discussed it (there were far more important things to worry about right now), but the conflict in their stuffy prison was palpable. Addy almost worried about the day they could finally get out of here and be on their way as they’d have to face it head-on.

Almost worried.

Just then, there was a small knock on the attic door before it carefully pressed open and the familiar face of Eriaas peered into the room. More than ever, the man had become a welcome presence, at least as far as Addy was concerned. A break from the monotony of their trapped existence. He brought a genuine smile to her face.

“Any news from below?” she asked, not expecting much of an answer. The lead agent said something interesting, one of the minion agents was rude, someone made some particularly good coffee, were the usual sorts of updates he had. But today, there was a different look in his eyes. Today, something was unusual.

“Actually yes,” he said, his voice hushed. No one below would be able to hear them from here, yet he continued to whisper as he went on, “I overheard something”

Addy exchanged a glance with Cyrus who sat up straighter. “Overheard what?”

“What they’re looking for,” said Eriaas, coming further into the room. He patted Kalli on the head as he passed her and her fort. The girl flinched away from his touch and Addy couldn’t help but notice Cyrus’ proud smirk. She returned her attention to Eriaas as he sat down in an armchair and leaned forward, lacing his fingers together.

“They’re usually quite good about keeping their discussions private,” he explained. “Never in the house, you know. But they slipped up. Or perhaps they’ve grown lax. Regardless, just this morning I was returning from my run and Parnassé and some of her people were meeting in the dining room. I hovered out of the way for a bit to see what I could garner from the conversation.”

Infuriatingly, Eriaas went quiet, instead looking between them excitedly until Cyrus demanded, “Well? And?”

Eriaas’ good spirits were unwavering. “And they foolishly told me everything I needed to know.”

Addy caught Cyrus’ glare of frustration. It was her turn apparently. “Which was?” she pressed, far more gently than her partner had been.

Eriaas glanced over his shoulder as though to check no one was listening, before he leaned in closer and whispered, “The Transmitter.” Addy got the feeling that it was meant to be significant to them. That she was supposed to have a mindblowing ‘aha’ moment. But all she could manage was a polite, if confused, smile.

“Ah, I forget, you two aren’t from here,” Eriaas went on, brushing off his disappointment. “It’s a bit of a local legend. See, our little moon? Was the first terraform following the Division War. As such, it was home to some of the greats of post-Colonization. Leaders and politicians and visionaries all made their way here to start the Ellegian cluster we know today. And, though we’re not proud of it now, they took most of Archeti’s Origin era artifacts with them. One of those artifacts, supposedly, according to legend, is the Transmitter.”

Still, this was ringing no bells to Addy nor, as far as she could tell from the blank look on his face, to Cyrus. Ancient history had never been either of their strong suits. “The Transmitter is said to have come from the Ark itself,” Eriaas went on. “No one is clear on what it does, though speculation runs amok. Some say it can simply transmit messages more efficiently over much more space than we can today. Others say it can contact the Origin. Some even say it can summon forth a new Ark to ferry our people onward to the next Span.” Eriaas lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “It could just be a broken old artifact, for all we know. But clearly the Society believes it’s worth something at least. That’s why they’re here. That’s what they’re looking for.”

Addy propped up her chin on her fist. It sounded like something the Society could spare a handful of agents for. Legends had to come from somewhere after all and even if the device was, as Eriaas said, a useless lump of metal, the risk could be worth the minor loss.

“So is it here somewhere?” Addy wanted to know.

“On the moon? Maybe,” Eriaas answered. “But here?” He pointed to the floor. “Definitely not. They’re on the wrong side. If the damn thing is anywhere, it’d be in the Consulate archives on the other side of the globe.”

“Then why would they think it’s here?” Cyrus asked.

Eriaas just rolled his eyes dramatically. “Some idiot claimed that my house was built atop the old Consulate in an attempt to tear the land from me. I settled the matter out of court, but the rumor stuck. To this day I still get tourists stopping by looking for a museum. It doesn’t help that the actual archives are buried beneath centuries of real estate developments and dirt. I only know where it stood because I paid a brigade of archaeologists to locate it for legal leverage.”

Across the room, Cyrus opened his mouth to speak, but it was Kalli’s voice that rang out next. “O’rian!” she shouted in glee, standing by the window and bouncing up and down on her feet.

Both Addy and Cyrus frowned at her, but it was Addy who said, “No, your uncle’s not coming, issyen.” The girl was probably just tired of no one paying attention to her.

“Why don’t you just tell them they’re in the wrong place?” Cyrus went on. “Tell them they’re on the wrong side of the moon and  they’ll leave and we can go.”

“I could do that,” Eriaas agreed, but Addy shook her head sharply.

“And lead them straight to wherever this thing actually is?”

“O’rian!” Kalli shouted again, earning her a “Hush” from Cyrus.

“What if it really is something significant?” Addy continued. “What if it gives them something we wish they didn’t have? They’re not exactly known for using moral judgment when it comes to technology.”

“O’rian!” shouted Kalli once more.

“No offense, Adds, but I’m more concerned with my family getting out of here alive than the Society finding some legend that probably doesn’t exist,” Cyrus muttered.

“Whatever you two decide, it’s up to you,” put in Eriaas just as Kalli stomped her feet and said again, “O’rian!”

Cyrus let out a heavy groan and pushed himself to his feet to join his daughter at the window. “What is it, issyen?” he cooed, sounding a little impatient as he picked her up and bounced her affectionately in his arms. “What’s the matter?”

He was starting to turn away when Kalli put her little hands on his face and forced his eyes towards the window she’d been looking out of. “O’rian!” she said again, definitively and this time, Cyrus went still.

A rush of panic ran through Addy. Oh gods, he didn’t. It would be just like Fiearius to run in here and try to save them despite their explicit wishes otherwise. But please, gods. “Tell me he didn’t…” she breathed, rushing from her seat to the window herself.

But Cyrus said, “No. No…not that uncle.” And when Addy looked out onto the path below at the two figures walking towards the house, she understood what he meant. It wasn’t Fiearius. It was Finn. And the small shape beside him? It couldn’t be…

“Corra?”

“Maybe because guests showing up and then sneaking around is gonna look a little suspicious,” Alyx argued.

“Anyone sneaking a couple and their daughter out of a house onto a ship is gonna look suspicious,” Cai shot back.

“Not if the Society brass are occupied with dinner elsewhere.” Alyx stared right back at him knowingly. “C’mon. This works. We’ve done it before. Dae and I distract them. You slip off into the shadows and get them out. It works. It’s a good plan.”

For a long moment, Cai said nothing. He glared at her from beneath his dark bushy hair, silent and stoic, as statuesque as she’d ever seen him. And then he said, “It’s a stupid plan. Get a new one.”

As he spun around on his heels and continued to stalk down the corridor, Alyx released a hopeless groan and shouted after him, “I’m trying, Cai!”

Not that trying seemed to be getting her anywhere. In all of her time as leader of this ship, short as that was, she had brought in exactly zero jobs and zero credits. Strange how, when she’d only been doing Finn’s job without the title, she’d been amazing at this kind of thing. But now, she was facing mutiny on all sides. Her crew suddenly hated her, her contacts wanted nothing to do with her and the ship’s coffers were becoming daringly thin. The Beacon, as they’d known it, was falling apart and Alyx didn’t know how much longer she could scramble to pick up the pieces.

Suddenly, a voice behind her said, “Being captain isn’t as easy as it looks, eh?”

“Not at all,” she grumbled in response before realizing that no, it was not her subconscious having a conversation with her but an actual living person standing in the hallway. She spun around and immediately her eyes went wide.

“Finn?” she sputtered, not even trying to hide her shock. “What–? How–?” She shut her eyes and opened them again to confirm that she had not simply lost her mind. It wouldn’t have surprised her if she had. “What are you doing here?!”

“I made a mistake. And I’m here to fix it.”

Alyx narrowed her eyes at him. “Fix it? You mean, fix how you tried to sell the ship out from under our feet? How you betrayed us? How you stopped caring about the Beacon and its crew ages ago and pretty much abandoned us to fend for ourselves while still calling yourself captain?”

Finn’s lips pursed and he glanced sideways as though in thought before he looked back at her. “Yep. That. I want to fix that.” When Alyx said nothing, he sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. “Look, I screwed up. I lost sight of what was important and I was a terrible captain. I owed you better. I owed all of you better and I know that. I may not deserve another chance, but I’m here asking for one nonetheless. Let me fix things, Alyx. Please. If you’re willing to let me back aboard.”

Alyx fell silent. She had spent a long time being angry at Finnegan Riley. So long, in fact, that a spurt of irritation had become her default reaction to his presence. Yet now, as angry as she knew she should still be, as unforgiving as she wanted to appear, after their time apart, it wasn’t anger she felt upon seeing him, but genuine relief.

Still, she gave him a hesitant glare as she muttered, “I don’t know…You really don’t deserve another chance.” But she couldn’t keep the charade up for long. Her lips started to pull back into a smile before she couldn’t contain herself and marched forward to pull the man into a crushing hug. “Of course you can come back. This place just isn’t the same without you, captain.”

Finn released a grateful sigh and squeezed his arms around her. “Nor is drinking at the bar the same without you.”

Finally, Alyx pulled away and held him at arm’s length. “But I still don’t get it. How the hell are you here?”

Finn smiled back at her with a glint of mischief in his eye before tilting his head over his shoulder. Confused, Alyx followed the direction until she noticed another figure behind Finn, peering up at her with a mixture of relief and, Alyx thought, a bit of sadness. If Finn’s sudden appearance had been a shock, his companion was even moreso.

“Corra,” Alyx breathed in disbelief. The woman looked a little different than she remembered, but those deep brown eyes and freckled face were unmistakable even under the mask of age. For a fleeting moment, she thought perhaps she was dreaming after all, for both the Beacon’s captains to be standing before her for the first time in years. But there was one way to test it.

Practically shoving Finn aside, Alyx brushed past him and leaned down to seize the shorter woman in her arms. The way she felt and the way she laughed in her ear certainly sounded real enough to convince her.

“Oh God, Corra,” Alyx exclaimed, choking back a sudden need to weep. “I can’t believe you’re here. And you’re okay! God, I’m so glad you’re okay. It’s so good to see you.”

Corra chuckled appreciatively and squeezed her arms around Alyx’s back before breaking the embrace and stepping backwards. “It’s really good to see you too,” she mumbled, looking up at her, her brows creased downward in apology. “You can’t even imagine…”

“You have to come down to the crew lounge,” Alyx insisted, taking her hand and already starting to yank her down the hall. “So many people will want to see you and hear about what you’ve been up to.”

Alyx caught sight of Corra glancing up at Finn nervously, as though hoping he’d rescue her somehow. But whatever she was hoping for, Finn didn’t seem to comply. Corra glared. Finn lifted his brows. Corra jabbed her head toward Alyx. And Alyx looked between the two of them, oblivious to the content of the silent conversation going on between them.

Finally, she’d had enough. “Alright, you two are cute and all, but just tell me what I need to know.”

Corra caught Finn’s eye one last time in a last ditch attempt for help which he didn’t provide. So she heaved a deep breath and said, “Alyx, I–I can’t stay.” Alyx felt her spirits droop and her smile drop slowly off her face. “I have people after me. I have missions still in the works. I wanted to get Riley back and make sure everything here was okay, but I need to head out again.” She looked back over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I wish I could stay. Really, I do.”

None of this was surprising, Alyx realized, but that didn’t make her any less likely to argue it. “Corra, c’mon. We haven’t seen you in ages. At least stay the night. Talk to the crew, we all miss you. One night can’t hurt.”

“She’s right,” agreed Finn. “You owe us that much, don’t you? As friends?”

But Corra was already shaking her head. “I can’t,” she mumbled under her breath. “I have to go.”

Alyx reached out and laid her hand on Corra’s shoulder. “But–why? What’s the hurry?”

A bitter laugh escaped Corra’s lips before she muttered, “The longer I stay, the harder it’ll be to leave…” She swallowed hard and met Alyx’s stare firmly. “I’d rather just go now, okay?”

Alyx wanted to keep contesting it. It didn’t make sense, as far as she was concerned. She wanted to talk to her old friend, that seemed reasonable enough. But something in the conviction of Corra’s words made her unable to conjure any more arguments. She looked up at Finn hopefully, but he too seemed to have resigned himself to her wishes. So Alyx would have to consign herself to say goodbye almost just as soon as she’d said hello.

But then Corra spoke up again. “Before I go though.” She tilted her head suspiciously. “What was it you were saying about Cy and Addy?”

——————

Addy sat on the edge of the guest bed, watching in exhaustion as Kalli dragged blankets and pillows across the room to “build a fort.” Her daughter was making a mess of the room that wasn’t even theirs, but Addy did not have the energy to scold her. Nor, she’d found, could she blame the girl for having too much energy to contain. A few more days of this and Addy would likely be on the floor building forts of her own.

They had been confined to Eriaas Argoatan’s attic (if this furnished loft area could even be called an attic) for nearly a week. They’d moved up here when it had become obvious that hiding in the guest rooms left a little too much risk that one of Eriaas’ Society houseguests would hear the tiny pitter patter of five year old feet.

Those same houseguests, much to Cyrus and Addy’s dismay, didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. Whatever their expedition was, it wasn’t going well and it showed no signs of stopping.

It had only been probably twenty minutes before that peace was disturbed by the sound of voices approaching the ship. Absently, Leta glanced down into the bay as Fiearius and Quin strode up the ramp in such deep conversation they didn’t appear to notice her.

“–can’t sway to them,” Fiearius was saying, sounding both angry and tired. “They’re gonna keep trying to push us out, but we need to stay strong on the Ascendian lines. No matter what.”

War talk, Leta realized at once and felt far less bad for overhearing. She decided not to disturb them and leaned back against the wall to return to her book. Despite the intention, however, she couldn’t help but listen to the scene going on below her.

“Easier said than done, sweetheart,” replied Quin as she trailed after him. “You ain’t out there with these fuckers.”

Fiearius slowed to a stop in the middle of the bay to look back at her. “Wanna trade?”

“You mean, do I wanna hunt down the clandestine leaders of our enemies and murder them in their sleep?”

“Who said they were sleeping?” Fiearius laughed.

“I’ll pass regardless. Sounds like dirty work. Commanding a great fleet on the edge of triumphant battle?” Quin sucked in a breath between her teeth, impressed with her own accomplishments. “I think you and I can both agree that’s where I belong.”

“Wouldn’t trust anyone else with it,” Fiearius agreed.

“Which of your little Council is next anyway?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leta saw Fiearius frown as he stepped further into the bay to lean against a stack of crates, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve got a lot of information about the Synechdan Councillor, but I’ve yet to garner a hint of where he could be. The Ellegian I know next to nothing about except where they are. Ellegy. Which is all well and good except that there’s no way we can get there. Fortified as the gates of the dov’ha themselves. And then there’s the Satieran. Who is,” he sighed, “entirely a mystery.”

Quin made a tutting noise with her tongue and leaned up against the crates beside him. “Stalemate then?”

“For the time being.”

She nodded her head slowly and then a mischievous smirk pulled across her face. “Guess you’ll have time to make the annual Carthian fundraising gala this year then, huh?”

And now, Fiearius groaned loudly. “Please don’t remind me. I still need to find an excuse to get out of that.”

“You’ve been excusing yourself every year.”

“So have you!”

“Sure,” Quin laughed, “But I ain’t the great admiral, am I? No one could give a shit if I show up. Fact, they’re probably happier that I don’t. Can’t screw things up for ‘em.”

“If I do go, they’ll probably quickly feel the same about me,” he grunted.  The bay lapsed into silence for a moment and Leta briefly considered jumping into the conversation lest she continue to eavesdrop. Besides, she too wanted to know if Fiearius really would attend the fancy Carthian ball this time around. She’d been to several and frankly, she couldn’t imagine the man there. Just as she was about to say so, however, Fiearius picked up the threads from earlier.

“Anyway. Keep our people right up there with them on Ascendia. It’s important.”

“Carthis is still gonna keep pushin’ us out,” Quin remarked, admiring her fingernails absent-mindedly.

“Of course they are,” Fiearius growled. “Because they know if I’m watching I’m not gonna let them pull the same shit they managed on Vescent.” Internally, Leta felt a small swell of — what? Gratitude? Appreciation? Perhaps admiration. “Well fuck ‘em, I’m not just gonna stand by and allow these pieces of shit to take over the Span. Stay in touch with the local rebellion. I want them a part of this. It needs to be their victory so when it ends, they’re left with the major stakes.”

“Will do, my captain,” said Quin.

“And we’ll do the same with Ellegy when it comes to it,” Fiearius continued to mutter, his stare focused on the floor. “And Satieri…”

His voice trailed off and again the bay grew quiet and again Leta thought she should make her presence known. Accidental as her overhearing this conversation was, she nonetheless felt like an intruder, which was a feeling only made worse by what happened next.

“You alright, darlin’?” Quin asked suddenly, looking over at Fiearius, a crease of worry marring her brow.

Fiearius didn’t look up at her as he released a heavy sigh and mumbled, “ I’m fine. Just — got a lot on my mind.”

Half-fascinated, half-weary, Leta knew she should have looked away when Quin pushed herself from the wall and turned to face Fiearius fully. She definitely should have looked away when the woman placed one hand on his jawline and the other slid around to his behind. And she wished she’d covered her ears when she said, in a voice that let everyone listening know exactly what she meant, “Well why don’t we go take those things off your mind, hm?”

Fiearius let out a breathy chuckle and seemed to relax against her. “You can try,” he mused back, looping his own arms around her waist.

“That a challenge?” asked Quin.

“If you’re willing to accept it.”

“Oh, honey, I’m willing to exceed it.”

Leta’s common sense finally caught up to her and she looked away, forcing her focus back onto her book where she read the same five words thrice without ever registering them. Even without visual confirmation, she knew that he had leaned down to kiss her and that she had kissed him back and she could practically hear the look of adoration on Fiearius’ face when he said, “I missed you.” She’d certainly heard it enough times herself.

“Don’t you get all sentimental on me, Soliveré,” was Quin’s response before she apparently stepped out of their embrace and thwapped his side affectionately. “Now why don’t you go get whatever it is we had to come back here for, hm? Got a bottle of the good stuff I stored back in your fancy admiral’s lounge I think we both deserve.”

“Sir, yessir,” was Fiearius’ laughing response as he too pushed himself off the wall and headed off into the ship. Quin, after a moment, sauntered after him, leaving Leta alone in the silence of the cargo bay once again.

She couldn’t remember exactly what Fiearius had said about his relationship with Quin. That they were friends, that they were allies and that they simply took comfort in one another every so often. But Leta knew Fiearius better than that by now. She knew the tones of his voice, the meanings of his actions and the looks he gave. And after that display, she knew that whatever he’d said was going on with Quin, he’d certainly misrepresented it.

“Please, girl, I need you to meet me halfway,” Leta begged as she pulled another awkward turn. “A quarter of the way?” To her left, Javier was staring at her as though she’d gone mad. Perhaps, Leta thought, she had. “Give me an inch?”

The next turn, sharper than the last, sent the underside of the ship smacking into the wall. “Oh come on!” Leta shouted, forgetting herself. “Do you just not like me or something? Did I do something to you? Is it because I left? Look, if this is about all those times I called you junk, I meant it in a nice way!”

“Leta–” Javier started.

“Well I’m sorry!” she went on, ignoring him. She was barely paying attention to what she was saying anymore, focused mostly on not getting them killed and letting her mouth do the rest. “I’m sorry I called you junk. But acting this way isn’t doing anything to change my mind, you know! I’m sorry you hate me, but I need you to work for me now, okay?”

“Leta we’re running out of canyon!” Javier interrupted finally and she realized, in horror, he was right. Up ahead, the walls started to close in, coming together in a single cliff wall directly in her path. Behind the ship, their pursuer noticed as well and started a barrage of weapons blasts that zinged by them. She was clearly tired of messing around.

So was Leta.

“If you won’t do it for me, do it for Fiearius,” she demanded, feeling a streak of panic mixed with mania topped with reckless abandon as she hit the forward thrust and plummeted straight towards the dead end. She ignored Javier’s look of absolute terror.

In fact, Leta ignored almost everything. Her vision focused in on only the wall ahead of her. The sounds dropped away, the blasts of shipfire fading out, Javier’s heavy breathing vanishing and as she seized the controls, readying herself for this final move, all she could hear was the gentle hum of the Dionysian. Under her breath, she pleaded, “I like him too, girl, and he likes us. So what do you say we all make it out of this together, huh?”

Surely it was her imagination, but she could have sworn she felt the constant shudder of the ship alter its rhythm.

Either way, when she yanked back the thrusters and slammed them to the left, she definitely felt the Dionysian respond in a way she hadn’t before. She didn’t fight, she didn’t resist, she just smoothly turned directly onto her side to glide through the last few hundred feet of the canyon before turning her nose up and sailing back into open skies.

Leta was too in shock to hear the noise that followed. She was staring at the controls in her hands in disbelief. How had that worked? Why had she even done that?! What–

“Oh my god, it worked!” was the first thing that made it through Leta’s haze. Javier had jumped to his feet and was bouncing up and down in front of the console. “I can’t believe it — it worked, it really worked!”

Suddenly feeling like she’d spent the last ten minutes as someone else entirely now just settling back into her actual body, Leta stiffened in her chair and blinked herself back into concentration. “It did?” she asked seriously, leaning over to glance at the screen. True to his words, the second dot that had been chasing them was gone. “What happened–”

“You didn’t hear it? That explosion?” Javier asked through a delirious laugh, falling back into his seat, overcome by relief. “That was her stupid ship catching on the edge of the canyon. Couldn’t quite make that angle, could she?” He patted the dashboard affectionately. “Not like us. Amazing flying, cap’n. Absolutely amazing.”

Leta smiled at him, though a little shakily. “Good job, girl,” she mumbled. “Good job. Let’s get back before your other captain finds us gone.”

——————–

Fiearius’  jaw had clenched shut at the question. He didn’t answer. He didn’t have an answer. No, as a matter of fact, he didn’t truly know why the Council had chosen him for Verdant and that must have been obvious on his face because after a moment, Palano, horribly, smiled.

“No? Never figured it out, have you?” she asked. “Being Internal Affairs Prime? Is that what you thought? A good murderer doesn’t make a good Verdant, Fiearius. It’s something much deeper than that. It takes what we would call ‘moral flexibility’. And you.” She leaned back against the desk again and pointed at him. “Are one of the most morally flexible individuals I’ve ever seen.”

Fiearius wanted to be done with this conversation. He wanted to just shoot the woman and end it now, before she put whatever poison into his head she was dangling over it. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. For some reason, he had to listen. He had to know.

“It means you don’t inherently cling to the comforting belief that there are universal rights and wrongs,” she explained patiently. “Your set of morals changes constantly, seeming to depend on those you respect around you. Your parents, your friend, your wife, your brother. Your doctor.” She raised a brow at him knowingly.

“You pretend to agree with these other moralities, for their sake, which I understand entirely, I’ve done the same, but I think you and I both know it’s a lie.” She pushed herself from the desk and sauntered towards him slowly. “There is no black nor white. You know that the universe is more complex than that and you question it always, it’s obvious to anyone watching. It is that questioning, that curiosity and that freedom that makes a truly great Verdant. What you have, Fiearius, is a gift. That is why we chose you. Because you. Whether you want to believe it or not.” She stopped a few feet away and reached out to prod him in the chest with her index finger. “Are a lot like us.”

More than ever now, Fiearius wanted to draw his weapon and silence her. He didn’t want to hear this, any of it. It would be so easy to end it all and walk out of here and forget any of it ever happened. But all he managed was to growl, “I’m nothing like you.”

“Oh, but you are,” Rebeka laughed, shaking her head. “You care about people and ideals so much, so strongly, that you’re willing to work in the shadows to protect them.” She clasped her glass in both hands and, looking up at him with a blend of admiration and pride, sighed. “You would have made an excellent Councillor.”

It was Fiearius’ turn to scoff. “A Councillor? Sure, if I survived being your damn Verdant.”

Rebeka tilted her head at him, seeming perplexed. “Of course you would have survived. You were far too valuable, we would have kept you alive at all costs.”

“Sure,” Fiearius mused with a grim smile. “I’m sure you told that to the last Verdant too. You know. The one you forced me to murder.”

The woman continued to stare at him in a strange daze for a long moment until finally, some sort of epiphany rose through her cheeks. “Oh, Fiearius. Fiearius, no. No, no no.” She smiled at him sadly. “He’s not dead.”

Fiearius felt his heart stop in his chest. “What?”

“Oh I know it looked like he was,” she explained hurriedly. “But he’s alive and well, I assure you. We wouldn’t waste talent like that.”

Wasn’t dead? The previous Verdant, the man Fiearius had killed with his own weapon, shot straight through the chest, not dead? It couldn’t be. It didn’t make sense. “But the chip –” he realized. The Verdant chip that had transferred its data into his wrist the moment the bullet landed. “If he didn’t die — how did I get it?”

“Well, he did die,” Rebeka answered as though this were all very obvious and dull. “Just long enough for it to pass over. It’s a bit complicated.”

“Complic–” Fiearius began, but suddenly his shock started to wear off. He could still see the image in his head. It was one that haunted him always. The Verdant in a pool of blood on the cold cement floor under the flickering warehouse lights. Beside him, two more bodies. A woman. And a child. The shock was replaced by a fury that roiled through him like his blood was on fire. He took a sharp step towards Rebeka, his eyes fixed on her in a rage. “That man–that man killed my son.”

Rebeka’s calm faltered momentarily as she stumbled backwards. “Ah–yes,” she admitted quietly. “That was an unfortunate turn of events.”

“Unfortunate?!” He took another step towards her. “Unfortunate?!”

“Fiearius–” Rebeka began hesitantly, but she was silenced when he seized her wrist and dragged her back towards him, more rough than necessary.

“Where is he?” Fiearius growled under his breath. She looked up at him, reflecting — what was that? Pity? — in her expression. But she said nothing, she gave no answer so he yanked her closer and rammed his gun into the crook between her chin and neck. “Where. Is. He?!”

Rebeka flinched as he twisted the cold metal against her skin, but her eyelids flicked back open to stare at him sadly as she whispered, “They were right, weren’t they? They were right all along. Aela never told you…”

The words were enough to give Fiearius pause. But before he could even begin to question what that meant, what Aela had to do with any of this, he heard his name called out from across the room.

Perhaps it was foolish. Perhaps he shouldn’t have looked back. As soon as he did glance over his shoulder to find Dez at the base of the ladder, rifle in hand, the gunshot went off, warm liquid splashed his skin and the body attached to the wrist he still held aloft went limp.

It took Fiearius a few long moments before he was able to release his grasp and allow Rebeka Palano to slide to the floor against her magnificent, blood-stained desk. It took him another few moments to realize Dez was speaking to him, standing beside him, shaking his arm to get his attention. What he said, what he wanted, Fiearius couldn’t begin to care. All of his thoughts were focused on one thing.

What had Aela never told him?

“We always thought you were special,” she continued, swirling the liquid in her glass in slow circles. “Meant for great things. Though. I suppose if we knew it would come to this?” A humorless chuckle filled the room. “Well, we probably should have left you there, hm?”

Fiearius didn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. This was stupid. He hadn’t come down here to listen to some old woman monologue about her life’s choices. He had a job to do and even if she wasn’t stalling in hopes of being saved, even if she simply wanted to have a casual chat with a man whose life she helped destroy, he didn’t have the time nor patience for this. She didn’t deserve the monologue. She deserved an end.

But just as he resigned himself to lifting his gun again and firing it off before she had a chance to argue, she said something that stopped him.

“I don’t regret it, though.”

Fiearius looked over at her, curious, despite himself.

“Regret recruiting you,” she elaborated. “Or promoting you. Any of this.” She waved her hand at the room around her. “I do regret how many people were caught in the crossfire. Some of them more than others.” She caught his eye with a look so heavy with meaning Fiearius had to look away. “But overall. This? It’s the right way of things, I think. I don’t regret it.”

Fiearius wasn’t sure how to respond. Or if he even should. He’d thought many things of the Society Council over the years. He’d developed unshakeable beliefs about who they were and what they were like. He knew, without a doubt, that they were devoted to their empire. That they would defend it until the bitter end. That they would all be irrational, insane monsters like the Vescentian Councillor Leta had faced in Fall’s End.

And yet here was the Ascendian Councillor telling him, in no uncertain terms, that she was glad he had devoted himself to destroying what they had built. And suddenly, he had to know.

“Why did you do it?”

The question had been burning in the forefront of his mind for days. Ever since he had broken through Ren’s code and uncovered the name and history of the woman before him. Rebeka Palano glanced up at him curiously. “Why did I do what?”

“You were elected to Ascendian office. You were popular with the public, with the legislature, you had plenty of power as it were. But you faked your own death, abandoned your family, your friends, and for what? How could you sell out your own people to the Society? How could you sentence them to that?”

Rebeka’s head tilted against her shoulder as she regarded him. “Sell out my people?” she repeated, turning the words over on her tongue. “I didn’t sell out my people. I saved my people.”

Grasping her glass, she rose to her feet and strode around the desk to lean against it. “You were just a child, Fiearius. I’m sure you weren’t attuned to Span-wide politics at five. But thirty years ago? Ascendia was dying.” She shook her head and took another long sip from her glass. “Not physically. Our terraforms have always been amongst the most stable. But our economy? Our job market? Tanking. If we’d continued down the path we were on? Unemployment would have peaked within three years. Hundreds, thousands of families would have lost their homes. We didn’t have the resources to compete with giants like Exymeron and Ellegy. We’re a small cluster. And we were failing.”

Reaching behind her, she grabbed the bottle of liquor and tilted it towards her glass again. “Now I tried to do what I could in office. I wanted nothing more than to fix my homeworld and I did everything in my power to make that happen.” She drank a long sip of the liquor and hissed a sharp breath afterwards.

“But there’s only so much you can scrape together from nothing. And after three terms with no progress? I could still look out of my bedroom window and see people starving in the streets. I was left with two options. Hand control over to the gangs, take black credit bribes and become the next Archeti to be left to rot. Or reach out to the Society. An organization that had managed to take Exymeron from dried up to the most successful cluster in the Span. The organization that had saved Ellegy from the brink of bankruptcy after the war. The organization that had the resources to save my people.” She drank deeply again. “You can see which option I chose.”

It was big talk, but Fiearius was unimpressed, shaking his head before she’d even finished. “And how exactly have you saved your people? Sure, they have jobs and homes, but at what cost? They vote now for powerless figureheads who couldn’t give a shit about them. They fund a government not devoted to them, but to some empirical dream of controlling the Span. Living in constant fear that someone — someone like me — might show up and murder them if they make a wrong move? Say the wrong thing? How is that saving anybody?”

Now, Rebeka scoffed. “Don’t be naive, Fiearius, you know better than that. There is always a price.”

“A price your people didn’t agree to pay.”

“Because they wouldn’t have dared,” she snapped suddenly, straightening herself up. “It wasn’t an easy choice, but someone had to make it. Someone had to do something and I was the only one willing to make that leap. You think I wanted to die? To leave my family? My daughter? I had to make that sacrifice because no one else would.” She slammed the empty glass down on the desk, hard.

If she was trying to intimidate him, it wasn’t working. “And you want credit for that?” he barked. “You want a pat on the back for taking a personal hit in fucking everything up?”

Rebeka narrowed her eyes on him, seething with anger for a long moment before suddenly, it broke and she, of all things, laughed. “That’s very bold coming from you, admiral,” she mused, venom in every word. Fiearius glared back at her silently. “Passing judgment on me. You do know, don’t you?” Her brows lifted and her lips pursed in vague amusement. “You do know why we chose you for Verdant. Don’t you?”

———————

Of all the senseless things Leta had done in her life, this was probably the worst of them. The Dionysian’s bridge was filled with a mighty roar and shudder as the ship scraped against the cliff face before pulling around the corner of the canyon. It was less of a canyon, Leta had found, and more of a ravine. Steep rock walls cut through the grassy plains like a crack in the planet itself. It wound its way across the surface in sharp turns and jagged curves. It would have been the perfect place to lose their pursuing ship. If their ships had been reversed…

“Give it up,” called the original pirate’s voice over the COMM. “You’re just gonna crash my valuable merchandise. Land her, now, and maybe I’ll let you walk away with your life.”

Leta growled under her breath, but didn’t answer, instead clenching her jaw and yanking the ship controls in an attempt to make an abrupt turn around a stone pillar jutting out of the canyon floor. The Dionysian barely avoided nose-diving into the nearest cliff-face and Leta heard the heavy thump of debris falling onto her hull.

Javier, still in the co-pilot’s seat, let out a shriek, followed by a cough and a more ‘manly’ groan. “Leta–” he began as the ship tumbled around another bend.

“What?!” she snapped, her teeth bared as she pulled the next one even closer.

“Leta, this isn’t–” Javier gripped his chair arms and held on for dear life. “This isn’t working. She’s way more agile than us. She’s still right on our tail!”

A blast of red zoomed past the window and, up ahead, a canyon wall took the hit, sending rocks and rubble flying.

“Yeah I noticed,” Leta growled, slamming the brakes and tilting the ship upward to avoid them. She managed, but only barely and winced as another screech of metal against rock filled her ears.

The Dionysian was a clunker, she knew that. Paired against that fighter, it was obviously less equipped for fancy flying. But even so, it had never seemed this clunky before. Did Fiearius just make it look easy or was she doing something that wrong? Either way, if it didn’t shift soon, it was going to get them killed.

“Maybe–” Javier started again, though he looked like he was about to vomit, “Maybe we should consider other options?”

“Happy to hear them,” Leta answered. Another shot flew past them, only narrowly missing. She got the sense that the pirate was just toying with her now. Playing with her prey.

“Well. We could land?” Javier suggested carefully. “And have Eve just shoot her?”

“Not if she stays in her ship and uses it to shoot us,” Leta pointed out. She glanced sideways at him just briefly to mutter, “That’s what I would do anyway…”

“Well we can’t shake her.”

But they could, Leta knew somehow. If it had been the ship’s usual captain at the controls, they could do it. She’d seen Fiearius do it. He’d had taught himself to fly this ship, he’d told her as much himself. He had no special training, more experience perhaps, but she refused to believe that she was incapable of even coming close to the kind of maneuverability he managed. So what the hell was he doing that she wasn’t?

The answer appeared in her mind a moment later as she plowed the ship ungracefully around another the next corner. And it was ridiculous. There was no way it would work, no way that that made a difference. It was completely illogical.

As another shot from the fighter nearly landed itself right on the ship’s side, however, she was willing to try anything.

“Come on, girl, work with me,” she growled under her breath, feeling stupid. “Help me out here.”

Fiearius often referred to the Dionysian as a woman. A woman that was stubborn and complicated and needed constant attention from him. It was metaphorical, obviously. There was nothing truly alive about a spaceship, and yet, sitting at her controls now, Leta couldn’t deny that flying her felt a bit like having an argument.

So it was worth a shot.

“Eh?” Eve grunted, looking annoyed by the interruption. “What kind of alert?”

“Not sure, that’s what I need to–” Javier’s fingers flew over the console keyboard, and then he brought up the radar screen. His eyes went round. “Ships. Coming in from orbit.”

Leta sat up sharply. “What?”

“Five of them. Looks like–” He tapped the console. “Small fighters.”

“Why would there be fighters here?” asked Eve.

“There wouldn’t be,” muttered Leta, setting down her beer carefully, though her mind was already roaring with alarm. “There’s nothing on this moon.”

“Except us,” pointed out Javier.

“They followed us here,” Eve growled. “It’s Society, isn’t it?”

Javier was shaking his head. “Not Society, I don’t think — and if they were ours, they’d have hailed us. These ships–”

“Are coming straight at us!” Eve yellled, gesturing to the radar screen on the secondary console.

“I scanned them, they’re–they’re reported stolen,” Javier breathed, looking over to Leta, as if silently begging her to figure this out.

Leta shut her eyes in realization. Of course. Irony of ironies. “Pirates.”

————-

The rest of the Harrowden bunker looked much like the first part. Fiearius was beginning to truly believe he’d been completely wrong about this. He glanced back at Dez. Well, they were both completely wrong about this. He wouldn’t take all the blame.

“Where else would she be?” Fiearius asked, closing a door to an empty storage area and not bothering to keep his voice down anymore. Perhaps somewhere less traceable, he realized after a moment, feeling internally ashamed. The Councillors were known for secrecy. And he was able to figure all of this out.

But it hadn’t been easy, he argued. He’d had to stay up for three days straight, make seven separate deals with Ascendian criminals and bang his head against at least ten walls before he’d gotten to this point. It was a guess, but it was a very educated guess.

Shockingly, despite their bad start, Dez didn’t seem as disheartened yet as he felt. “She should be here.”

“Well unless you know something I don’t know, she’s not,” Fiearius pointed out, shutting yet another door so they’d know it had already been checked.

It didn’t help that this bunker seemed to go on for miles. He’d known the Harrowdens had been rich, but he had assumed that their secret hideaway would be smaller than the rest of their estate. He’d assumed incorrectly.

“Maybe we’re going the wrong way,” was Dez’s idea.

“What difference does it make? The whole place is like this.” Fiearius ran his finger along a shelf they passed, dragging a clump of dust along with it.

“But maybe it’s not,” Dez said which, Fiearius thought, was about the most useless statement he could have made. His second statement, however, was not. “Something smells weird.”

Fiearius looked back to see that he had stopped and was sniffing the air curiously. A frown passed over his face. “I don’t smell anythi–” Fiearius began, but suddenly, to his alarm, he did. He did smell something. Something he’d been smelling far too often lately.

Fiearius spun back around just as it became visible in the hallway in front of him. The beginning sparks of flame. “Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me,” he breathed as the spark met a wooden shelving unit and roared upwards.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp tug on his arm and he was being wrenched backwards by Dez. “Why does this keep happening to me?!” Fiearius demanded as he spun around and fell into pace beside him. He could feel the heat starting to rise at his back, which he shouldn’t have. There wasn’t enough fuel in here to make it spread this quickly. This was planned.

“I’ll give you one guess,” Dez called to him over the growing noise, echoing his own suspicions. Ophelia Varisian.

Fiearius shook his head. “What the hell did you do to that psycho?”

Dez cast him a strange look. Somewhere between worry and apology. But Fiearius didn’t have time to analyze it as they turned a corner and were met with another wall of fire.

“Shit, she’s boxed us in,” Fiearius growled.

“This way.” Dez took them down the adjacent hall which was clear, for now. Flames blocked off hallways they passed, forcing them down what was apparently the only safe path. It felt determinate. Intentional. She was leading them somewhere?

And then she lead them into a room that wasn’t as empty as the rest. Fiearius stumbled to a halt and locked eyes with the woman standing before him, eyes he hadn’t seen in years. They were different now. Older, tired, something more harsh about them. Her blonde hair was cut short. She’d lost some of her bulk. But it was still Varisian and her stare still threatened to slice his head off at the first wrong move.

But Varisian didn’t attack, not at first. In fact, she looked like she hadn’t expected them. At least not yet. She stood in the center of the room like they’d caught her in the middle of some intimate embarrassing act and no one could move. But suddenly, her eyes snapped to Dez. Her brow furrowed. She threw something across the room which crashed and started a blaze in the doorway and then, finally, she drew a blade from her hip and attacked.

Attacked Dez.

Fiearius staggered backwards anyway, drawing his gun and trying to get a good aim as the woman lashed out, a flurry of rage and grace. Dez held her off, dodging out of the way, parrying her lunges and eventually drawing a blade of his own. Between the two of them, Fiearius had a hard time getting a clear shot, but in the end, he didn’t have to.

“Go!” Dez ordered through gritted teeth as he blocked Varisian’s attack.

“What?!”

“Go!” he shouted again and nodded towards the other door that she hadn’t blockaded. “I’ll hold her off. The Councillor is here. Go! Finish the job!”

Fiearius couldn’t fathom most of what was happening. Why Ophelia was so set on stabbing Dez to death, how she’d even gotten here, what she was doing with the path of fire, but there was one thing that did make sense. Dez was right. She wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t something worth protecting.

He hesitated only a moment more, taking one last look at his old friend as he countered the onslaught, before he turned down the hall and made a run for it.

She’d already gotten to this hall. There were flames blocking every passage, every door, Fiearius was certain he’d run down a dead end right up until he saw it. The alcove, just a small dome branching out of the hallway that seemed insignificant. But the fire hadn’t touched it. It was clear. And set into the floor was a hatch that, unlike everything else in this damn place, wasn’t shielded by dust.

Without thinking, Fiearius grabbed the handle and yanked it open to reveal the hole and the ladder below. This ladder he wasn’t careful with, bracing his feet on the sides and sliding down to the bottom with a thump.

He stumbled backwards, looking back up into the flickering lights above him, but before he could turn around, a voice froze him in place.

“Fiearius Soliveré. I’ve been expecting you.”

Of course, Leta hadn’t expected a different answer. It hadn’t changed before, why would it change now? They still argued about this for hours, sometimes late into the night. But that didn’t stop her from pointing out, “We can’t trust him. His motives are unclear, or they don’t seem genuine. He’s hiding something, Fiear, I know it. He could play you any second and it could end with you dead.”

But Fiearius held up a hand to her. “I know. I know…And I’m not asking you to trust him.” He took a few steps back towards her and grasped her upper arm. “But trust me, okay?” Leta met his stare, not feeling any more comforted than she had a moment ago. But she sighed and nodded agreement anyway. What other choice did she have? She’d been fighting this battle for years, it was clearly one she wouldn’t win.

“And I will trust you to take care of my ship while I’m gone,” Fiearius went on, his tone lighter as he let his arm fall back to his side. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, alright?”

Leta couldn’t quell the worry that was rising in her chest, but she forced her best knowing smile. “That’s not narrowing it down very much,” she muttered as he headed for the door, laughing down the hall.

—————

The Harrowden family’s Second Division War bunker looked like it hadn’t been opened in decades. Centuries, maybe, Fiearius thought as he watched Dez skillfully work on the great metal door buried into the ground of the desolate plain of a forgotten Ascendian moon. But that was exactly what someone hiding down there would want someone to think, from the outside, wasn’t it?

“Want me to take another turn?” Fiearius asked, reaching for the tool in Dez’s hands, but Dez didn’t move.

“I can handle the rest.”

Fiearius eyed him skeptically and glanced back at the seemingly endless expanse of darkness around them. They’d been out here for nearly an hour now, patiently etching away the lining of the sealed hatch. Not that it mattered. Fiearius had never set foot in a place more lonely than where he stood then. The Society couldn’t post agents here, that might draw attention, give something away. This place had to seem deserted in its entirety. There was no one around for hundreds of miles.

His attention was drawn back to Dez when he heard a clunk and a satisfied, “Ahh.” Fiearius stepped forward to help him wrench the thing open, but Dez brushed him off and heaved the heavy metal door out of the way himself.

“Show-off,” Fiearius muttered.

“Jealous,” Dez countered as climbed backwards into the hole he’d opened in the ground.

Fiearius just rolled his eyes and followed down after him, taking the rusty rungs of the ladder one at a time and trying to be as silent about it as possible. Now that they were inside, they were running blind. He knew about the bunker, but he certainly didn’t know the layout. He didn’t know where their target might be hiding. And he certainly didn’t have as much of a plan here as he would have liked.

He felt the ladder’s tension change as Dez presumably dismounted below him. It was only another few moments of climbing before Fiearius felt solid concrete himself and turned around to get a look at what they’d descended into.

It wasn’t exactly what he was expecting.

“You’re sure she’s down here?” Dez whispered, his tone dry as the two of them peered into the dark, musty space. It, much like the door, didn’t seem to have been touched in generations. Dim generator lights kept the narrow room from being plunged into complete blackness. Shelves lined the walls, empty save for a few cans of food Fiearius likely wouldn’t open with a ten foot pole. A few mattresses had been leaned up in the corner. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.

“I was,” Fiearius answered, but he was beginning to doubt himself too. Ren’s research had all pointed to one Rebeka Palano as the Councillor of Ascendia. An upstart politician herself, Palano was heir to the massive Palano estate before she had “died” of illness thirty years ago. But the Palano estate hadn’t always been called Palano. Two generations ago, it had been the Lorna estate. And before that, the Ori estate. And before that, during the Second Division War, the Harrowden estate.

“This is her family’s long lost bunker,” Fiearius mumbled under his breath. “We’re at war, she’s in danger, where else would she go?”

Dez narrowed his eyes through the darkness. “Yes. Where else would she go?”

“You were the one who told me this was definitely right, that this had to be the place, you were sure of it,” Fiearius snapped quietly.

“Because you told me it was definitely right, it had to be the place, you were sure of it,” Desophyles growled back, but Fiearius just shook him off and stalked further into the room. There was a hallway through a door on the other end that, upon peering down it, he realized lead to more hallways and more rooms and more hallways. Gods, this place was a maze.

“Let’s at least look around,” Fiearius suggested. “There’s still a chance I’m right.”

Dez didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t argue as he followed after Fiearius into the hall.

——————

How long ago had it been — six years? It seemed like a whole lifetime had passed since the very first day Leta had first stepped aboard the Dionysian. The day Cyrus kidnapped her and Fiearius yelled at her and she realized, in horror, that she was on a ship filled with criminals. What would she have thought, back then, if she’d known one day she’d be sitting in that very ship’s bridge as the acting captain?

She was about to settle in and get some work of her own done to pass the time when she heard footsteps behind her. Swinging her head around, she found Eve wandering into the bridge to join her, a couple of beer bottles hanging in her hand.

“Enjoying the view, doc?” she asked, nodding toward the pitch-black horizon filling the bay window. She settled down in the co-pilot’s chair and held out a beer for Leta to take.

Leta almost smiled.  “Not sure I should drink on the job.”

“Cap’n does all the time. Looks like you could use it too.”

Leta hesitated, then accepted the bottle, cracked it open on the edge of the dashboard, and took a long swig: it was true, she was tense. She was trying to not think much about what was happening down in that bunker. Apparently, her unease was written all over her face.

“You’re worried about him,” said Eve, frowning at her in a thoughtful sort of way, and Leta thought: of course I am. She spent half her life worrying and wondering after Fiearius, although she wasn’t willing to admit that aloud. But she couldn’t help but voice the question burning a hole in her heart.

“Do you really think they can pull this off?”

To her surprise, Eve barked a laugh. “You kiddin’, doc? This is the cap’n we’re talkin’ about. Course he can pull it off.” Leta arched her eyebrows, both comforted and confused by her positivity. Either she really believed in Fiearius, or Fiearius had done a fantastic job of convincing her to believe in him. Or both. Eve’s expression did sour slightly when she added,  “Wish I coulda gone with him though.”

“Yeah,” Leta muttered, returning her attention back to her bottle of beer.  “Me too.” Though even as she said it, she wasn’t sure if she meant Eve or herself.

They lapsed into silence. Leta sipped her beer quietly, propping her feet against the dashboard as she tried to avoid imagining all of the horrible outcomes of this mission. She tried to focus on the good ones. Fiearius returning triumphant, the whole crew celebrating, the war beginning its end …

“It’ll probably be awhile,” Eve said, glancing at her knowingly. “You should get your mind off him.”

Perhaps the beer was already going to her head, because Leta smirked and muttered,  “I’ve never been able to do that.”

“Yeah, funny, ain’t it?” Eve sighed. “How some people, you just can’t shake. I know he means a lot to you. But we’re not gonna worry about him, now, doc,” she told her simply. “Cap’n will be back. These things can take a while. But he’ll be back.”

Leta wanted to believe it as much as Eve did. She would try to.

Just then, another set of footsteps pounded up the stairs, and then Javier rushed into room, headed straight for the console screen. “Scuse me, Leta — sorry — I need to check something,” he apologized in a rush. “I got an alert.”

“Cy,” she said again, softly this time as she reached out to put her hand on his, stilling him. “Cy, listen–”

Briefly, he met her eyes. They were fixed on him, full of sadness, pain, sorrow and he knew somehow that she had slept just as little as he had. He couldn’t stop himself from grasping that hand, if even for a moment. But in the end, he said, “Addy, there’s no time. We have to go.”

Now, confusion crossed her face. “What? Why?”

Cyrus opened his mouth to explain, but it wasn’t his voice that filled the room. “P’ahti?” Both parents looked over to find Kalli in her nightdress, rubbing her eyes and standing in the doorway.

“Issyen,” Cyrus cooed, abandoning his packing attempts and rushing over to the door, sweeping the girl up in his arms. He fought the images of her captured away from his mind’s eye.

“P’ahti, what’s wrong?” Kalli asked in a hushed voice, reaching out her tiny hand to touch Cyrus’ face.

“Nothin’, issyen, nothin’, we’re just getting ready to go, that’s all.” The assurance seemed to work and he felt the girl relax a little in his arms, but when he turned back to Addy she was still frowning at him in a desperate attempt to understand what was going on.

He didn’t want to say the word in front of Kalli. She knew what the Society was. She knew it meant danger. And the last thing he wanted was a panicking child, so instead he wrapped his arms around her tighter, leaning her head into his shoulder and over her back mouthed, ‘Society.’

But Addy just frowned deeper and mouthed back, ‘What?’

‘Society,’ he tried again, moving his lips more dramatically and gesturing to the window, but still, she just shook her head and shrugged. He was about to try again when yet another voice cut him off.

“We have a problem. The Society’s here.” It was Eriaas. For once, the man wasn’t his usual spotless put-together self. His robe was dissheveled, he had bags under his eyes and his hair stuck up at all angles. Cyrus might have actually appreciated the sight under different circumstances, but as it were…

“What?” Addy demanded, her own eyes going wide and her face pale. Kalli squirmed in Cyrus’ grasp and looked around at them all in growing horror. “Here? Why?”

“I wish I knew,” Eriaas muttered, glancing over his shoulder as though someone might sneak up and attack him at any moment. “I’ve had no bad relations with them personally, but–” He raised his brows pointedly at the family in the room. “Obviously the timing could be better…”

Kalli was growing more and more restless by the minute, but Cyrus just held her tighter as he asked, “You think they’re here for us?”

“How could they be?” Addy demanded. “The Dionysian is untrackable, there’s no way anyone would know we were dropped off here.”

“It doesn’t matter why they’re here, we just need to leave,” Cyrus decided as Kalli wriggled so hard, he had no choice but to lean down and set her on her own two feet where she simply seized his pant leg in fear.

“It’s a little late for that,” Eriaas argued. “They’re already touching down.”

Cyrus glanced out the window just as the sleek grey shape of the ship descended into view. At once, Addy slid the curtains shut. “He’s right. If we had an opportunity, we missed it,” she said.

“So what, we just wait here for them to find us?” Cyrus demanded.

“Well hang on, now, Cy,” Eriaas argued, holding up his hand. “We don’t know why they’re here. It could be that they just want to meet with me and then leave. No harm done.”

Cyrus met Addy’s eyes across the room as she muttered, “That’s a pretty big risk.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth, a voice filled the COMM speakers. “Sir? An Agent Parnassé at the door for you?”

Eriaas’ jaw tightened. “Not sure you have much of a choice.” He stepped back through the door and began to close it behind him. “Stay here.”

Cyrus strode over to the door and put his hand on it, almost just to assure himself that it was closed. Kalli was still clinging to his pant leg as she looked up at him and mumbled. “P’ahti?”

“It’s okay, issyen, everything’s gonna be okay,” he assured her as Addy joined them at the door and ruffled a hand through Kalli’s hair. The little girl only gripped Cyrus tighter.

“Maybe he’s right,” Addy whispered, locking eyes with him. “Maybe they just want to talk and they’ll leave.”

Cyrus nodded, wanting to believe it, but he found himself holding his breath as he heard, on the floor below them, the front door sliding open.

“Eriaas Argoatan?” asked a brisk female voice followed by Eriaas himself.

“Agent Parnassé, was it? Please, please, come in.”

“I’m so sorry to disturb you at what must be this early hour.” Footsteps clicked across the foyer. “We’ve been on black time for quite a while. I forget morning still exists planetside.”

“Of course, of course, I understand. Not a worry,” Eriaas insisted. “Can I get you anything? Something to drink? Eat?”

“Ah, yes, actually,” Parnassé answered. “A spot of breakfast wouldn’t go amiss.”

“I’ll have my chef start on something right away.”

“Oh, but I must ask, our ship. Is it alright docked where it is?” There was hesitation on Eriaas’ end. “For the long term, I mean.”

“Sorry, long term?”

“Ah, I’m getting ahead of myself. I haven’t even told you why we’re here, have I?”

“You may have left that out I’m afraid.”

Cyrus nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his back. He looked over at Addy who was leaned as closely to the door as he was, listening in. Concern marked her features, anticipation in her stance and when she glanced over at him, she swallowed hard.

“You see, Mr. Argoatan. Can I call you Eriaas? Excellent. We are planning an expedition of sorts. Looking to uncover an ancient device unseen by human eyes for millennia. We’ve heard about your entrepreneurial investments. I’m here to negotiate your involvement.”

Eriaas let out a laugh that sounded a little too relieved. “But of course. I’d be happy to hear your proposal over breakfast, if you’ll just come right this–”

“I’m afraid that’s not all I must ask, Eriaas,” Parnassé cut him off. “I hate to encroach upon the hospitality of a man I’ve only just met, but our expedition? The trail we’ve uncovered to the device? It begins here.”

A long pause passed before Eriaas found his voice and asked, “How long are you looking to stay?”

Parnassé let out an infectious laugh. “Let’s discuss over breakfast, shall we?”

As two sets of footsteps headed out of the foyer towards the dining room, growing quieter and quieter until they faded out entirely, Cyrus couldn’t breathe. No one in the room said a word until suddenly he felt a tug on his pant leg.

“P’ahti? P’ahti, can we leave now?”

Cyrus looked down at Kalli and tried to muster an encouraging smile. “No, issyen. No, I’m afraid we can’t.”

“Not this again?” Cyrus barked through a bitter laugh. “What, the thing that hasn’t changed? Over five years? Gods, Addy, you act like you’ve been given a death sentence since the day I knocked you up. That you’re here because you have to be, that you went to Archeti because you have to, that everything that’s happened up to now is because I forced your hand. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“I never acted like–”

“I’ve tried to make you happy,” he insisted. “Have I been very good at it? Apparently not. But I’ve tried. I love you. I want to be with you. Hell, how many times do I have to say this, I want to marry you–”

“And of course, it goes back to that,” Addy cut him off, putting her hand on her head.

“–and of course, that’s your reaction,” Cyrus growled right back. “And you wonder why–”

“Cyrus, the only reason you want to marry me so bad is to make yourself feel better.” It was perhaps a cruel accusation, Addy realized after she’d said it and she saw the flash of pain across his face. But it didn’t make her feel any less strongly about it. “You want to lock it in so you can assure yourself that everything is fine. But everything is not fine.”

He was nodding slowly now, like she’d just punched him in the gut and he was having a hard time coming to terms with it. “So the excuse about wanting a Ridellian ceremony on Satieri–”

“It’s not an excuse. I do want a Ridellian ceremony. And that is a whole other thing. Do we even need to discuss how you act about my religion?”

“What, the ancient star beings thing?” he responded, rolling his eyes and proving her point. When she just stared at him firmly, he frowned. “What? I’m sorry, it’s ridiculous.”

Addy crossed her arms over her chest and waved a hand in the air. “And important to me.” When she glanced pointedly at him, he clenched his jaw and said nothing. There was a silence between them that suddenly she felt very inclined to fill. “Maybe that’s the root of it,” she said, talking but not sure where she was going. “That what’s important to me…isn’t what’s important to you.”

The words slipped out of her before she could catch them and there they sat, hovering between them as they stared each other down in the hallway. Cyrus didn’t argue them. How could he? They were more poignant than Addy even cared to admit. She loved Cyrus and she knew he loved her, but neither of them could deny that their relationship wasn’t the stuff of legends. It wasn’t even the stuff of a good story. At best, it was a disheartening look at two people that had jumped into something far too serious far too soon. And these days, it was really starting to show.

“We’re not very good at this are we?” Cyrus said at last, his voice quiet, all traces of anger and argument gone now.

“No,” Addy agreed, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think we are…”

He was nodding again, his eyes downcast. “Maybe–I’m just gonna sleep in the shuttle.”

Addy nodded back, slowly. “Okay.”

He caught her eyes briefly, a heavy burden of sadness behind them, before turning down the hall and disappearing down the stairs.

————————————-

The shuttle they had rented, as it turned out, was not a very comfortable sleeping location. Cyrus rolled off the hard, cold cot shortly after the sun began streaming through the cockpit window, but he’d been drifting in between wakingness and uncomfortable dreams about his fight with Addy for what felt like hours.

His feet recoiled as they met the freezing surface of the metallic floor, but he winced and forced his aching body to a stand. One more minute in this cramped rental was too much and not just due to claustrophobia. His sleepless night of bad dreams and solitary contemplation had at least brought him to one realization: that he needed to fix this. And he needed to fix it now.

Cyrus hadn’t bothered undressing the night before and his luggage was still inside Eriaas’ house, so he just slipped on his shoes and stepped out into the sharp morning air. The salty sea wind enveloped him and he sucked in a deep breath that made his lungs ache as he squinted through the morning light at the mansion atop the hill.

You can do this, he told himself. Just apologize and be better. They’d had fights before. Honestly, they had fights more than Cyrus cared to admit. This one may have been different, it may have been worse, but it was still solvable, he knew. It had to be.

So he started the walk up the path, bracing himself against the wind that seemed determined to knock him over and rehearsing lines in his head. He was almost to the door when he noticed the wind suddenly getting louder. And louder. And…more mechanical?

Confused, he looked up and was unsurprised to find a ship still many miles up coming in for a landing. One of Eriaas’ friends probably? Another business associate? Well Cyrus hardly cared. He didn’t want to stick around this place any longer anyway. The arrival of more guests was a perfect reason not to.

But just before he looked away, something about the ship caught his eye and made his breath catch in his throat. As the ship descended through the ocean haze and grew steadily more clear, it became more and more noticeable. The mark on its bow. That symbol. The librera.

Shit.

He was probably still the size of an ant to them at that altitude, but Cyrus nonetheless sprinted the rest of the path and rammed his finger into the COMM button in case that changed soon.

“Argoatan residence, how may I–” began the professional door-answerer, but Cyrus cut him off.

“It’s Cyrus, can you let me in?” he asked, trying not to sound as rushed and desperate as he felt.

“Mr. Soliveré?” asked the voice. “Why are you–”

“Please,” he begged again, “Please, just let me in.”

“Of course, wouldn’t want to–” said the voice and the door slid open. Cyrus hurried inside and ran down the hall toward the stairs long before he could hear the second part of that sentence.

They had to get out of there. They had to leave and quickly. Gods, was it already too late? How the hell could they escape with that ship so close? It was right there. It would see them and as soon as it did? Cyrus didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about Kalli in the clutches of the Society. He couldn’t.

Addy was still in bed when he pulled open the door to the room she’d been staying in, but she didn’t look like she’d been asleep when she blinked up at him, squinting through the light.

“Cy–” she began, apology already heavy in her voice, but now was not the time for apology.

“Addy, get your things,” he insisted, crossing the room to their luggage and started piling what little had been laid out back into the bags.

She frowned at him and slowly lifted herself from the bed. “Wh — ”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he went on, ignoring her.