She spread her hands helplessly. “We’ve just spend the last 5 years on Archeti. Drawing blueprints and arguing with committees…”

Cyrus stared at her and got to his feet too. “We’re not just–we have a family, Adds. We have to give Kalli a home, a childhood, safety–”

“Of course, but a home and a childhood and safety aren’t mutually exclusive with running away from everything else,” she argued, speaking less guardedly now. Before he could even begin to retort, she went on, “Gods, Cyrus, we could be doing so much good for this effort.”

“We are doing good.” He couldn’t help the bite in his tone, but he tried to rein it in. “How is rebuilding Archeti not a good thing?”

Addy let out another heavy sigh and dropped her hands to her sides dramatically. “It is good. Of course it’s good.”

“Then excuse me, I don’t really see what the problem is,” he barked, far more sharp than he’d intended. Her eyes flickered up to him, hesitant, reserved and he could see her beginning to shove her anger and frustration back behind the wall she usually kept it behind. Part of him hated when she did that. He loved Adrasteia full of fire and passion unmatched. But part of him, the part he was ashamed of, didn’t mind when she set it aside to prevent an inevitable conflict between them.

It was just easier that way…

“I don’t really–” she began, sounding tired now as she looked straight past his shoulder at the wall. But Cyrus never found out what she wanted to say, because suddenly —

An alarm blared overhead, like a foghorn, filling the room with one long, warning wail. The lights in the room switched from dull fluorescent to a startling red. And then the foghorn ended, replaced by a metallic beep-beep-beep as the base’s alarms started kicking in one by one.

Cyrus locked eyes with Addy, knowing with absolute certainty that both their minds went immediately to the same place, all thoughts of their argument wiped from existence.

“I’ll get her,” said Addy, already halfway across the room. Seconds later, Kalli’s cry wailed right on cue, her small voice calling, “Ti’hma? Pa’ti?” from her bedroom. It was terrible to hear; it made Cyrus’ heart clench.

He went to the console screen, picking up the COMM. “Fiear?” he asked into it, praying his brother was paying attention. “What’s h–”

Fortunately, Fiearius’ voice cut through the static immediately. “Get your things together and stay there, I’m on my way.”

It took only seconds for Cyrus to throw their clothes, shoes and a few of Kalli’s stray toys into their traveling luggage. Addy reemerged from the bedroom, holding Kalli in her arms in her pajamas. Kalli’s hair was an explosion of curls (she had rather infamous bedhead) and she had wide, startled eyes, but she wasn’t crying anymore.

“It’s all gonna be okay, iss’chen,” Addy was saying, pressing her lips against their daughter’s ear. “All fine, you’re safe with us.”

Addy caught Cyrus’ eye meaningfully, gesturing to the luggage and he grimaced knowingly in response —  They didn’t need to have conversations out loud anymore to communicate around their daughter.

Addy smiled at Kalli again. “We’re gonna head back to Archeti, that’s all. How’s that sound? You ready to go home?” Kalli nodded, her light curls bouncing around her head, just as the door to their apartment slid open.

“Ready?” said Fiearius, already reaching to grab one of their bags. “We’re getting out of here.”

They all swept out of the apartment, a flurry of movement. In the hallway, the alarm blared even louder, and Kalli slammed her tiny hands over her ears and stuck out her lip. With her safely distracted in Addy’s arms, Cyrus asked, “Fiear, what’s going on?” as they hurried down the corridor.

Fiearius kept his voice lowered. “Rebels attacked the eastern entrance.”

“Bad?”

“Bad.” But his tone grew chipper when he added, “Which is why we’re leaving.”

Suddenly Addy’s words replayed in his head and Cyrus felt compelled to ask, “Wait, shouldn’t we help — what about everyone else in the base — ?

Fiearius barely reacted. He trotted down a set of stairs and said plainly, “Nope.”

“Will they be okay?”

“Probably,” Fiearius guessed. “Not my concern.”

Cyrus didn’t understand. Not that he particularly wanted to. Fiearius’ motives weren’t something he often found much pleasure in knowing, but he was still trying to work out what was going on when another voice rang out to them.

“Capta–Admiral?” It was Ren, paused in a doorway, looking concerned.

“Calimore,” Fiearius greeted, sounding far too cheerful given the circumstances, Cyrus thought. “Good. Hey, you want a ride outta here, we can drop you off on–”

But Ren spoke over him. “Have you seen Leta?”

Instantly, Fiearius froze.

“She’s not in her quarters,” Ren went on, surveying Fiearius through narrowed eyes from behind his glasses, “I haven’t seen her since lunch. I thought she’d be with you.”

Cyrus glanced to Fiearius’ face and he could see the alarm growing in his eyes. Then Addy spoke up, “Wait, she was meeting some reporter for an interview. At that bar, the one by the river, I think. She left an hour or two ago.”

Fiearius dropped the bag from his hand, where it thudded to the ground. “Shit!” he hissed.

“If she’s out there, where the riot’s happening–” Ren began, but he was cut off.

“I’ll go find her,” Fiearius said simply, already turning on his heel. “Rest of you, get to the Dionysian,” he barked over his shoulder.

Addy looked stricken with worry, but she nodded, tightening her hold on Kalli. Meanwhile, against all reason and logic, Cyrus felt a sudden wave of boldness —

“I’ll come with you.” The words burst out of him, and he marched after Fiearius.

“Cy–” Addy breathed, while Fiearius stumbled to a halt and growled, “What? No. Just get to the ship, Cy.”

“No, I’m coming with you.” He fell into step beside his brother. “I can help look for her.”

“Cyrus,” Addy said from down the hallway, stronger this time, making everyone halt. He glanced back at her only for a moment before fixing a determined stare on his brother who had the look of a man that knew he was treading in dangerous waters.

He hesitated, looking between the couple, until finally he relented, “There isn’t time for this. Whatever, just get moving.”

Without another word, Fiearius turned and headed for the exit. Cyrus spared one more look at his daughter and her mother before following after him into the hallway, where the shudders of the battle outside were echoing through the walls. He swallowed, internally cursing himself.

“If you’re referring to your old friend, then that is an entirely different conversation and–”

“I’m referring to Vescent–”

“Which is a political climate that you do not understand–”

“And I know that the real reason that you won’t leave–”

“–and is frankly–”

“–is Carthis wants Vescent for its empire,” Fiearius finished firmly, fixing Gates with a glare.

“None. Of your. Business,” Gates concluded, returning the glare.

Fiearius found himself nodding slowly. “Right. Of course not,” he agreed quietly. “I just do all the work. Not my business what happens afterwards.”

Gates frowned and put his hand to his temple again. “Admiral–” he began, but Fiearius cut him off, shaking his head.

“No no,” he said, grabbing the bag he’d come in with and heading for the door. “I understand entirely. Politics? The fuck do I know about that?” He nodded. “Well if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be off to do what I’m good for.” He made the shape of a gun with his index finger and thumb and fired it into the air before rolling his eyes and stalking out the door.

——–

With a sigh, Cyrus shut the bedroom door behind him, quietly and carefully as he could. “Well, she’s asleep,” he said to Addy, crossing towards where she sat on the couch in their temporary apartment on Vescent’s base. “Three rounds of tears. And only two of ‘em were hers.”

Addy laughed, pushing a book away from her lap. “Guess that means you won’t let me go check on her, right? Even though I miss her already?”

“Don’t even think about it. You wake her up? I’m not helping you put her back down.”

Addy raised her palms in surrender and shifted over to make room for him beside her.

With an exhausted sigh, he dropped into the couch. “Who knew vacations were so draining,” he mumbled as she picked up her book again and cracked it back open to her page.

“Anyone who’s gone on one with a four year old.”

He pulled a smirk across his face and folded his palms behind his neck. They lapsed into silence. It was an exhausted familiar silence he’d grown accustomed to. The one that he’d realized came pretty much every night after Kalli was in bed and it was just the two of them. Usually that silence ended up being filled with talk of work. Plans for New Genisi. An article one had read about the latest tech conference. But lately, on Vescent, it had just been…silence.

Of course, they were tired. Their daughter was a whirlwind that left them dead on their feet day after day. Surely, Cyrus knew, that was what lead to these long quiet nothings once the sun went down. It had never bothered him before. There was no reason for it to bother him now.

Still, he suddenly found himself a little edgy, desperate to fill it.

“Maybe you and I should go some place,” he suggested, reaching out to gently stroke her arm with the back of his hand. “Just the two of us. Get away for a bit.”

Addy closed her book a few inches and looked over at him, intrigued. “Where would you want to go?”

Cyrus shrugged. “Not sure. Somewhere warmer… I wonder if I’m still wanted on Paraven…”

“Tarin’s nice this time of year,” she put in, closing the book entirely now.

“Yeah, but we always go there,” Cyrus sighed. He pushed himself up and spun towards her, crossing his legs on the couch in between them. “C’mon, I want to go on an adventure.”

A smile flashed across Addy’s face and she too swung her legs up, mimicking his pose. “Someone missing their days as a fearless space pirate?”

Cyrus laughed. “Never. But…maybe a little.” He took her hands in his and squeezed. “Let’s go steal something valuable and sell it.”

Now, Addy laughed out loud. “What?”

“You heard me,” he declared. “We’ll seek out our fame and fortune, make the Span our own. People will shudder when they hear our names.”

She was still laughing when she pressed her hand to his forehead. “You feelin’ okay, sweetie?”

“Better than ever.” He grinned.

“And what will become of our offspring while we’re off pillaging, may I ask?”

“Oh we have plenty of willing babysitters,” he told her, waving off the concern. “Petro, Leta, Fiear–”

Addy barked a shocked laugh. “You want to leave our daughter on the flagship of the Soliveré fleet?!”

“Better off there than with us,” Cyrus mused with a wry grin, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. When she just regarded him with a confused tilt of her head, he clarified, “Because we’re dangerous.”

“Right, of course,” she chuckled, then kissed him on the forehead. “Sorry, dear, but you have got to be the least dangerous person I know.”

Cyrus frowned at her dully. “That’s not true.”

“When Kalli learned to walk, you dressed her in so much protective padding in case she fell that she could barely even waddle.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want her to get hurt.”

“You still won’t let us keep a gun in the house, despite practically everyone offering, insisting even, that they give us one.”

“We shouldn’t need one!” he defended.

Addy scoffed good-humoredly, but her next comment, to Cyrus’ surprise, reeked of bitterness. “Not to mention how eager you were to put us both in retirement as soon as the war started.”

Cyrus felt a bit like she’d slapped him in the chest. He blinked at her as his hands slipped away from her waist. “We’re not ‘in retirement’…” he muttered under his breath.

It didn’t take long for Addy to realize what she’d said and try to backpedal. “No, I know, I don’t mean ‘retirement’ exactly,” she said hurriedly, looking away from him. “I just–” She sighed. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Cyrus said, sounding unintentionally cold. This wasn’t the first time this had come up. Or at least this wasn’t the first time they’d skirted the edges of it. There was something bothering Addy and though she always seemed reluctant to come out and say it, he could sense it nonetheless. Something that was slowly gnawing at her and affecting the way she looked at him when they woke up in the morning and the way she lay in his arms at night. Cyrus had gotten used to trying to ignore it, just as she had. It had long been a mutual understanding that it was best to avoid conflict if they could. For Kalli’s sake, of course.

But Kalli wasn’t here. And Cyrus was feeling particularly bold this evening.

“Just tell me.”

As stunned as he’d felt a minute ago, Addy seemed even more so. She stared back at him, her lips pursed in thought, her eyes flicking over his face as though trying to read something in it. How much he could handle, Cyrus guessed, feeling a touch offended by it.

“It’s nothing, really,” she insisted, though she didn’t meet his eyes when she said it and within an instant she was on her feet and pacing away from the couch.

“Addy…” he scolded and she glanced back at him.

She let out a sigh and lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “It’s just–I don’t know. We used to be fixing ships, Cy. Sailing across the Span, having those adventures you talked about. And those ships are still out there, changing lives and doing important things and…”

“Double-check the radiator settings,” she interrupted suddenly. “Or you’ll blow out the gas line. And then you’ll need to — “

” — engage the thrusters, yeah, yeah, I know,” Finn snapped. It was just like being back in school, he thought sourly as he stood up from his seat. He turned to hit to the proper dial on the wall, though before he could hit the button —

Slam. White-hot pain shot through his head and he staggered sideways, emitting a gruff “ergh!” as his hand jumped to the back of his neck. He sank against the wall, his vision swimming.

Blinking dully, he saw the pilot standing over the dashboard, holding a long silver pipe in hand — a decent weapon choice, judging by the throbbing in his head. She threw him a sideways glare and started to take over the dials on the dashboard.

“Hey!” he yelled in surprise, as if she’d said something foul and offensive and not just tried to knock him out. “What the hell? I thought you said you weren’t getting paid enough for this.”

“If I take the ship back from a thief, I’ll get reimbursed plenty, don’t you think?” Smirking, she leaned over the field of controls, taking back the main steering. With difficulty, Finn dragged himself up to his feet and then took advantage of the distraction: clumsily, with a groan of alarm, he lunged at her.

He’d never really learned how to fight cleanly.

But she wasn’t giving up the helm without a fight. “Give me back — my — ship!” she growled, as they wrestled for control of the dashboard. She kept one hand on the navigation as she threw her fist sideways against his chest. Finn seized her thrashing wrist and pinned it behind her back. With his other hand, he fished his gun from its holster, but it was knocked away by her elbow to his chin.

Meanwhile, the ship was zig-zagging through the air, tilting the floor dangerously beneath their feet.

———-

What the hell was he doing? Alyx had been watching the flight of the ship Finn was supposed to steal since the moment it flew out of the hangar. It had started out alright, making a clean swoop across the massive field, but then things had gotten funny. He was supposed to just fly right out of here and take the thing back to the Beacon, but when it hit the end of the field, it had flipped around and started pulling elaborate stunts.

The way the surrounding ships flew, it was clear this wasn’t the intended show so Alyx was certain either the pilot they’d chosen was particularly bad or it was indeed her pilot at the helm. And he was ignoring the plan.

But just when she was about to write him off as the cocky show-off he was and swearing to herself that she’d give him a piece of her mind later, things took a turn for the worse. The stunts got a little…jagged. Something started to feel legitimately wrong. A chorus of confusion and wonder started to rise from the crowd around her. And then, all at once, it changed to panic as the transport changed direction midair and was suddenly headed straight at them.

Alyx unconsciously seized Daelen’s arm as though she was going to escort him to safety, but she found she couldn’t take her eyes off the ship as it barrelled towards the grandstand, seemingly gaining speed. Fortunately, her physician had a better reaction time. Just before the hull sliced its way through a support beam as though it were made of butter, Alyx felt a harsh tug on her arm and her whole body was yanked out of the way as the entire grandstand was swept up by a cloud of debris and an enormous crash.

———–

Before Finn opened his eyes, he could hear the horrified gasps of the crowd, the pounding of feet, flooding his ears. Every part of him was aching dully. He forced his eyes open to mere slits and glimpsed white clouds and a slice of bright blue sky, blurry and wavering above his head.

A long, low groan rolled from his throat. From somewhere nearby he heard the pilot staggering to her feet. “Hey. You alive?”

“I think so,” Finn mumbled. Then he muttered earnestly, “Hey, nice job pulling the emergency mechs,” and she answered, “No, it was all you. We’d be goners if you hadn’t adjusted the lift at the last second. That was pretty amazing.”

Voice barely above a groan, he grunted, “That’s true. I am amazing.”

Wincing with pain, he sat up, feeling blood and debris across his face. The ship was crumbled in pieces all around him, emitting black smoke. Crowds of people were circled around the ship, staring in awe.

Coughing, and feeling that he better get out of here before the authorities realized what had happened, he started to stand up to his feet.

But then he saw her.

In the front line of the crowd stood someone he recognized at once. Her hair was shorter, her stance was weaker and she was wearing a dull grey dress that barely fit her, but she had the same wide puppy-dog brown eyes, currently gazing straight at him and looking thunderstruck. Finn would have recognized her anywhere.

” — Corra?”

He meant to call for her, but he barely choked out her name, hoarse as he was. He tried again, squinting his eyes at her, as if seeing a mirage — but somehow, he knew it wasn’t.

“Corra!” he yelped.

Her expression suddenly folded into — sadness? Apology? And then she turned on her heel and fled, melting back into the crowd. Disappearing.

Finn started to climb out of the debris to follow after her, but then he felt a hand seize his shoulder.

“Finn! Finn, are you alright?” It was Alyx. She’d pushed her way through the crowd and took him by the arm. “You’re okay? Here, don’t try to stand — “

“No, no, I’m fine — Alyx, look — Corra’s here! I just saw her, we have to go after — ”

“Did you hit your head then?” Alyx asked worriedly, looking him over. “It’s gonna be okay, Daelen’s on his way.“

“No, I’m fine! Alyx, Corra was just here! Go after her!”

Alyx looked stricken with confusion. She glanced over her shoulder and then back at him. “Finn, what are you– I’m not going to–”

Why was she not understanding this? “Alyx!” He seized both her arms and looked her straight in the eye, standing as still as he could. “If you don’t go after her now, we’ll lose her. This could be our only chance. You need to go find her.”

Her eyes searched his face, but she didn’t move. She wasn’t even going to try? How could she not realize what she was doing? How important this was? Did she not even care?

But then her stare found something else. The woman, the pilot he’d flown with, was talking to someone on the other side of the crash. She was pointing over at Finn and stern expressions came over her audience. And then, Alyx was grasping his wrists. “No, Finn, I need to get you out of here,” she said and started to pull.

Finn didn’t have the strength to fight her. As she started to lead them out of the area, away from the crash and the crowds, he tried desperately to find that face again, to pick her out amongst the staring eyes, but there was nothing. She was gone. And as Alyx dragged him down the steps towards the docks where the Beacon’s shuttle was waiting, he wondered if he would ever see her again.

The woman let out a thoughtful, “Mmmm,” and then a moment later, “Military then, huh?” and the comment, mixed with the flood of daylight as the ship picked up speed and soared out into the open air, made him wince. “So this is how Carthis funds its misguided war. Interesting.”

Part of him wanted to argue. No, he had nothing to do with Carthis’ war. Nor was this how that war operated. In fact, some of his best friends were part of that war and — but he stopped himself. Why should he defend himself to some half-rate day-hire pilot?

“Well whatever you’re trained on, Carthy, see those people over there?” She pointed towards the grandstands. “They still think I’m flying this ship so try not to embarrass me with your sloppy sailing alright?”

Finn let out a sharp laugh. “Sloppy? Excuse me?”

Suddenly, she was no longer in the back of the room, but at his side looking out the window. “Hey,” he snapped, letting go of the controls for just a moment to reach for his gun, but she didn’t make any aggressive motions.

“As far as they’re concerned, I missed my first cue, and…” She waited a beat and added, “Now I missed my second. You’re screwing up the Pykas, clearly.” She pointed upwards where Finn could see two smaller ships wavering awkwardly, unsure. “This thing was choreographed to every detail and now here you are, here I am just plowing across the field like an amateur.”

“Look, lady, I ain’t really concerned with your image right now,” Finn grumbled, picking up speed a little. “Now get back to–”

“Not concerned about your image either I guess,” she muttered indignantly. “You Carthy’s are all the damn same. All talk, no flair.”

“I’m not a–” Finn began, but shut his mouth, clenching his jaw. He narrowed his eyes and gripped the controls tighter.

——————

Cai didn’t want to pick up a serving tray and start handing out tiny sandwiches to the Ellegian elite, but when he’d approached the back of the event and an older ally had shoved it into his hands, he didn’t really have much of a choice. There was a time when this had come terribly naturally to him. There was work to be done, he would do it, without even a second thought. But five years into his freedom, that was no longer the case and his urge to drop the thing and walk away in a huff was strong.

Still, he had a job to do. Even if it was a shitty job. A shitty job exploiting his somewhat painful history. At least this time he was behind the cause. Helping Corra wasn’t the worst reason to assume an identity he’d rather not be associated with any longer. No, stealing a crate of what turned out to be protein bars. That was the worst. The very memory made his spine tingle with unspoken resentment. He didn’t offer Alyx a sandwich when he passed her in the crowd.

Only when he’d done a full pass through the thoroughfare did he get the chance he was looking for. He hadn’t spotted Corra herself. Who knew if she was even here? But if someone had any idea, it would be Ranson Lars’ help and one particular young woman with a cropped ear and plain brown-grey dress was just the kind of source he needed.

Casually, he strolled up to where she stood by the far wall and leaned against it. She was watching the crowd dutifully, a little nervous he could tell. She seemed new to all this, fresh-faced and scared that any moment something terrible might happen. Which was why he kept his tone cheerful when he said, “Fun party, huh?”

She cast him a sideways glance, confused. When he smiled back at her knowingly, she let out a short-lived chuckle. “Yeah. Fun.”

“You working for Lars?” he asked as though simply curious. The terminology wasn’t right, he knew. She knew it too, by the look on her face, but Cai refused to use phrases like ‘belong to’ and ‘owned by’ anymore.

“Yeah,” she answered, the weight of what that meant heavy in her voice. “You’re one of the guests’?”

Cai let out a short bitter grunt. “You could say that.” And then, he decided to take his chance. He tilted his head at her and asked, “Hey, do you know about the Conduit?”

At once, he saw her tense and too quickly, she blurted out, “The what?”

“You know, the Conduit,” he said again, quieter. “I heard they sent an agent to help Lars’ people.”

Now, she looked downright terrified. “I have no idea what you’re talking a–”

Cai turned against the wall to face her. “Listen, I need to talk to her. The agent. It’s really important,” he insisted, but she was starting to move away.

“I’m sorry, sir, I really don’t know what you–”

Before she could slip back into the crowd, Cai reached out and grasped her wrist. “Please,” he begged, giving her his most desperate expression. “Please, I need her help. I need your help. You have to tell me where she is if you know. I’m begging you.”

The woman looked conflicted. Almost as conflicted as Cai felt for lying to this poor woman about his situation. But his guilt was something he’d have to face later as finally, thank god, her expression changed from scared to questioning to pitying.

“Okay, okay,” she relented, stepping closer to him and lowering her voice to a whisper. “She’s here. She usually hangs around Mr. Lars though, does the bigger tasks, she doesn’t wait tables or anything like the rest of us.” Her eyes darted behind her for a moment before she added, ever lower, “She has a plan. She’s gonna get us out and to the Conduit. Soon, she says. Very soon. I–I don’t know if she can help you, but–” She looked him up and down and frowned, apologetic, “Good luck.”

As if he didn’t already feel terrible about his fabrication, she seized his arm and squeezed it in solidarity before she slipped away. Cai was left standing with his empty tray, feeling awful. Why had he agreed to do this again?

Right, because Corra was here and she was in danger and he was going to find her. He drew a deep breath, tossed the gold-plated tray into the nearest garbage bin and marched back into the crowd, but not before glancing out at the arena where a compact transport ship was pulling elaborate flips through the air.

———————

Wisps of white cloud flew past the window as the ship careened into the bright blue sky. Below, the crowd in the grandstands looked like miniscule, colorful dots. Really, it was a fantastic day for flying, and under normal circumstances, Finn would have really enjoyed the chance to show off before he flew away with this fancy prototype.

But he could barely enjoy himself. He had something of a nag barking orders behind him.

“Now pull her back and give ‘em a good roll,” said the pilot, leaned over him, her arm on the back of his chair.

Finn grumbled his annoyance at her, but it wasn’t a bad idea so he did as he was told, yanking the controls back and holding on tight as the ship hurtled itself through the air. But just to prove his point, immediately after, he pushed the controls the opposite direction and flipped her around in a dramatic turn to add some flair.

Beside him, his flying companion let out a raucous laugh, clapping her hand on his shoulder. “You’re better than I thought, Carthy! Got some skills after all.”

“I already said,” Finn muttered as he tilted the ship once more, “I’m not a–”

She nodded slowly, but didn’t seem satisfied. “And?” she prompted. And? What else — “You also said I should get off at the next stop.”

Ah, right, he thought. That.

“And if you ever did, I’d be dead in an hour,” admitted Finn, smirking slightly. “Alyx, you’re the only reason this boat hasn’t sunk. I’m sorry for what I said. Real, real sorry.”

She eyed him for a few more moments, sizing him up, debating whether or not he deserved her forgiveness and frankly Finn couldn’t blame her if her answer was no. But finally, thank god, he saw her expression lose its hard edge. “And I’m sorry for snapping,” she said. “But Finn, I’m just looking out for you, y’know.”

“I know. And thank god you are. Here — I brought a peace offering.” He dropped into a seat across from her and presented two beer bottles he’d stolen from the kitchen. Bending one against the edge of the console screen, he cracked it open and passed it over.

She accepted, curling her fingers around the neck of the bottle, but not without fixing him one last look of warning.

“Don’t talk to me like that ever again, alright?”

“Never,” Finn agreed, and they clinked bottles.

She tilted the bottle to her lips and they drank, peaceful at last. When she brought it away, she asked quietly, “So, how did it go with Raisa?”

Finn lifted his brows, considering the last two hours of his life and where in the story he should start. After the part with the guns, he decided firmly. She could find that out from someone else. Preferably when he was in another room.

“It was interesting. She gave me a bit of insight into what Corra’s been doing for her,” he explained, also choosing to leave out what that was exactly for now. If the notion made him shudder, he couldn’t imagine Alyx taking it much better. “And she said she can’t get in contact with her. But. Apparently she’s with a guy named Ranson Lars.”

He tried not to notice Alyx narrowing her eyes at him a little. “That so?”

Okay, so she knew where this was going. Hesitantly, he went on, “So. We’re going to figure out where this guy is and –”

He didn’t even finish the sentence before she let out a groan. “Finn…”

“Alyx,” Finn groaned back, sinking back in his chair. “You don’t understand, she’s in danger, we have to–”

“Finn, we’re in danger,” she interrupted sharply. “We’re running low on fuel, on food, I’ve got three crew members asking to be let off at the next terminal because they haven’t been paid in–”

“Wait, which crew members?” he suddenly wanted to know. “How come I don’t know about this?”

She blinked at him incredulously. “Really? Do you honestly need me to answer that?” She sighed. “Look, Finn, I care about Corra as much as you do and if she’s in trouble, of course I want to do something, but we need work. We need to get paid.”

“Right, well–” Finn looked around the room, desperate for an argument to come to him. It didn’t. “We will be.” When she only narrowed her eyes further, he added, “Eventually.”

Alyx let out another long groan and put her head in her hands. “Eventually isn’t good enough.” Sitting up straight again, she gestured to her console. “Look, I even got a job specifically for you! I talked to this guy who’s willing to pay a lot of credits for anyone who brings him nice little ships.” She tilted her head at him and smiled like a mother might smile at a fussy child she wanted to calm down. “You like stealing ships, c’mon.”

“Sure,” Finn muttered, fixing her with an irritated glare, “But I don’t really appreciate that tone–” But before they could reprimand one another once more, something struck him. Alyx wanted him to steal them a ship to sell. And Corra…Corra was undercover with one of Ellegy’s top ship manufacturers.

Maybe there was an easier solution to this stalemate than he thought.

“Well maybe if you could treat your responsibility to this ship with–” Alyx was arguing when he held up a hand to her. She frowned and growled, “Don’t you try and–”

“Alyx,” he interrupted sharply, a smirk forming on his face. “Alright. I’ll do it. I’ll steal a ship for you.” When Alyx eyed him suspiciously, he just grinned. “And you can look for Corra.”

Finn couldn’t quite wrap his head around what he was hearing. He’d always suspected Corra of working with the Conduit in her absence, but he’d never imagined it in this form. The thought of her as someone’s slave, even for a short time, even for a good cause, made him sick to his stomach.

“I’ve tried to persuade her into work a little less dangerous,” Raisa went on, “But she’s insistent. And she’s good at it. With her help the last few years, we’ve freed more people than I ever thought possible. But–as long as she’s out there undercover, she’s out of reach. That’s why I can’t help you. I can’t contact her anymore than you can.”

Defeated and stunned, Finn took a few steps backwards and fell back onto the couch. Fortunately, Cai took over for him. “But she must be in contact right now. We know she was on Tarin, alone, just a few days ago.”

Raisa just shrugged. “I don’t know what she does or how she moves around,” she admitted. “All I know is if she was out of her cover, she would contact me.”

“Well when was the last time you spoke to her?” Cai pressed.

“A month or so ago.” Raisa looked over at her desk curiously. “She did…she did mention a name.”

And like that, Finn snapped back to attention. “What? What name?”

Hurriedly, Raisa crossed to her desk and started typing on her own console, searching for a message. Finn launched from his seat and huddled behind her shoulder to watch. And then, finally, there it was.

“I’m sending some frees–,” he read out of the message. “A new lead–Ranson Lars.” Finn read it again. “Ranson Lars…”

It meant nothing.

“Who’s that?” asked Cai.

“Rich ship manufacturer out of Ellegy,” Raisa answered. “Uses allies in most of his factories. ‘Getting people off the streets and into jobs’ he says.” She scoffed indignantly.

“You think she’s in one of those factories then?” asked Finn.

“Perhaps, but I doubt it. Her strategies in the past kept her close to the owner, not brushing along the bottom where she could be stomped out too easily.”

“So we find this Lars guy, we find Corra,” concluded Cai.

Raisa looked back at him. “No guarantees…But if it could save her…It’s worth a shot.”

—

After his talk with Raisa, Finn knew what he had to do. The path ahead was clear when he returned to the Beacon in the Conduit’s hangar (fortunately not pursued by angry guards this time). He’d find this man Corra had supposedly sold herself to and he’d warn her about whatever it was she had stolen and, if she allowed it, he’d help her finish her mission so she wouldn’t have to even falsely ‘belong’ to someone for one more day.

Unfortunately, to do that, he was likely going to need some help. After hearing the entire exchange, Cai seemed to be on his side at least. That was one. And Daelen wouldn’t be hard to convince with Cai’s support. But there was still one last member of the Beacon’s Unofficial Leadership Committee whose support he needed desperately.

Dragging his feet, Finn forced himself upstairs to the bridge. It was quiet and empty save for Alyx, who sat at one of the consoles, poring over a map and typing into a keypad at the same time. Doing her dutiful tasks as navigator, nay, interim captain, he thought with a pang of guilt — as she always did.

With more confidence than he felt, he said, “Hey, Alyx,” as though they hadn’t been on strict non-speaking terms for the past few days and in fact this was the most casual of conversations. “Can I talk to you?”

Alyx spared him a short, cool once-over. Then she bent her head over the screen again and said nothing. Right, the cold shoulder. After what he’d said to her, he knew he deserved it.

“Stop a second, would ya?” he sighed, crossing the room to stand beside her. “I’d like to apologize.”

Expressionless, Alyx looked up at him. “Oh really?” she asked, venom in her tone. “About time.”

“It’s overdue,” Finn agreed, wincing. “I’m sorry, alright?”

Alyx regarded him for a moment and then leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Sorry for what?” she asked patiently. She had the upper hand and hell, she knew it.

Finn drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry I dismissed you. I’m sorry I said you’re not in charge of the ship when we all know you practically are.”

“Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t,” Fiearius growled, “Who are you? How long have you been — “

But he had no chance to find out. The next person to yell was Leta.

“Fiearius, no!” she cried. “Let him go — I know him!”

Shocked but compliant, Fiearius released his hold on the intruder, but none too gently. The man dropped to his knees with a thud, freed but groaning in pain and annoyance.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Leta demanded of him. “Why are you following us?”

“Put your guns away and I’ll tell you,” said the man darkly, massaging his bruised neck and throwing a dirty look toward Fiearius as he rose up to his feet. “Look, sorry I startled you. I didn’t want to follow you. I’ve been ordered to.”

“By who?” said Ren, while Fiearius growled, “Enough excuses, who the fuck are — ”

“All of you, calm down,” Leta snapped, brandishing a hand in the air. She stepped in front of Fiearius, effectively blocking him from —

“His name is Liam Andrews,” Leta sighed. “He’s a war journalist here on Vescent.”

Fiearius narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him. He looked to be in his young thirties, with overgrown brown hair and a beard. His clothes had once been upscale but were faded and weathered, like he’d been traveling a long way or hiding out. And even though Fiearius was the one with the loaded weapon in his hand, Liam was watching Leta most attentively, and suddenly the pieces clicked together in his head.

Fiearius snapped his head towards Leta. “This is your journalist?”

“What? He’s not my anything,” she scoffed. “What are you doing here, Liam?”

“I said, I didn’t want to follow you, it’s my job to watch over this part of Vescent. I camp out here, away from the base, to see what the rebels are up to. My editor makes me follow anyone suspicious. Trust me,” He grinned wryly. “It’s not exactly my ideal scenario either, but no one worries about the safety of a war reporter. Leta, I saw you out here, and honestly thought you were being forced here, that you were in trouble.”

“That’s usually a fair assumption,” said Leta dryly. “But no, I’m fine. Liam, this is Fiearius — “

“I know who he is,” Liam snorted.

“And this is Ren. And now you need to leave. We can walk you out, but then you’re on your own, and we’re going to pretend this never  — ”

But Fiearius held up his hand to interrupt, his mind suddenly racing. He’d been here the whole time? Had he heard about the journal? The code? Had he heard Ren mention the plan to assassinate the Councillors? A feeling of dread started sinking through him. Those plans–so much of the war rested on those plans remaining secret. If word got out that Carthis, that Fiearius, had found the trail of the Society Council, it would be for naught.

“How long have you been following us?” Fiearius demanded.

Liam lifted his eyebrows. “Not long.”

Fiearius dropped his voice to a dangerous growl. “How. Long?”

He hesitated, and then said, “I caught up to you right after you left the Carthian-secured area. I heard you were heading to the library.”

Which meant he’d heard it all, Fiearius realized with horror. Everything they’d said since they walked in those doors. The book, the cipher, the plan, all of it. A journalist had overheard them. He could think of no worse scenario.

“Listen, Admiral,” Liam continued, his voice steady, “if it’s a matter of what I’ve heard, we can discuss it.”

But it couldn’t be discussed. This man wasn’t just an intrepid reporter chasing a lead, he was a liability. A huge liability that could cripple all of Fiearius’ efforts. It could put the Councillors out of his reach entirely. Victory, out of the rebellion’s reach.

This was Fiearius’ job, wasn’t it? Why Gates had brought him into this war at all. It was his job to make the hard choices, act quicker and more decisively than Carthis could manage. Deal with things others would not. This man, or this man’s boss, had made an unintended mistake, that was true. But it was Fiearius’ duty to ensure that mistake never left this room.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, tightened his jaw and lifted his hand, but before his fingers even brushed the grip of his gun, Leta’s voice broke through his daze.

“Fiear!” she snapped sharply and when he met her stare, blazing on him intensely, he knew that she knew exactly what he was thinking. They watched each other for a long, tense moment, neither of  them speaking a word, but understanding one another clearly. And suddenly he knew he couldn’t do it. Not with her standing there. His hand dropped back to his side.

“Liam,” she said quickly, turning towards him. “What you heard tonight…You have to understand, it can never get out, alright? It’s–it’s vital to the war effort. If anyone ever finds out, it could be…more disastrous than you’d imagine.”

“I won’t say anything, Leta. And I swear I won’t write about it. I have some integrity, and besides … I value my life — I’m not stupid enough to go up against you two.” He jerked his head toward Fiearius, his eyes still resting interestedly on Leta. More playfully, he muttered, “But, uh, does this mean you’ll agree to an interview?”

Leta sighed, half defeated, half amused. “Yes. Pretend none of this ever happened, and you’ll get your interview. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Apparently satisfied, Leta turned back to Fiearius, her mouth twitching toward an exasperated smirk. As if everything was okay now. All fixed. But as she said, “Let’s head back,” Fiearius couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing was okay, nothing was fixed. As he brought up the rear behind them, he could only hope that his weakness here and now wouldn’t give way to a landslide later.

“It’s less where and more how,” explained Ren. “Most of it was readily available. Just not…clear what it means. It’s like a puzzle. And once I found a few pieces, I couldn’t resist finding the rest.”

Fiearius watched the back of the man’s head, wondering just how good at ‘puzzles’ someone has to be to figure something like that out. And then Ren let out a laugh. “I wrote it all down thinking that one day the information would just end up in some tabloid no one would believe. Never figured it’d be used to assassinate the Society Council.”

Fiearius grimaced, but Leta smiled at him encouragingly.

Most of the wooden circulation desk was broken and crushed into the floor, which dampened Fiearius’ optimism that the book could be intact, let alone findable. But Ren led them past the desk and into a back room that, judging by the overturned furniture, had once been an employee’s lounge.

“I used to work here while I was in law school,” he explained, “and we had storage lockers to keep our things in. Over here.”

Ren crouched to his legs and started to type on the keypad of a small metal locker.

“You remember the passcode?” said Leta in amazement, and Ren’s mouth twitched toward a wry, sad smirk.

“Your birthday and an anagram of your name, Leta? Yeah, I remember.”

Shifting awkwardly on his feet, Fiearius wished he could have waited outside for this part, but then the locker door creaked open. Ren seized a dusty journal and stood to his feet, giving it over to Leta.

Looking startled but hopeful, Leta grabbed the book and skimmed through the pages, frowning at whatever was written there. Fiearius watched her, but his eyes were drawn back to Ren who had immediately averted his eyes the moment she cracked open the spine. He was clearly roiling with nervous energy, his arms crossed over his chest, fists clenched, his foot tapping on the ground.

“Ren–this is–,” Leta began, sounding conflicted, but as soon as she saw the man who had taken to pacing small circles a few feet away, she clamped her mouth shut and clamped the book shut. “Thank you. This will help a lot.”

“I hope so.” Ren was already turning towards the exit doors, apparently eager to get out of this place. Fiearius fell into step beside Leta and raised a brow at her. She didn’t look pleased.

“Fiear,” she whispered. “This book–it’s nonsense. Farming techniques, baking recipes, history essays…”

Fiearius sighed through his teeth. Leta had said Ren’s codes were complex. “Just have to hope Carthis’ team can figure it out.”

But she was shaking her head. “I don’t know, Fiear, remember how long it took them just to crack the Verdant-encoded message you sent me?” She frowned. “About fancy cheese…”

Fiearius let out a chuckle. “I had just found out my chip could do that, I thought it’d be fun.”

“And a waste of resources,” Leta corrected. “This though–” She lifted the book. “This could take years.”

Fiearius eyed the book uneasily. She knew as well as he did that there was no way Ren would agree to even look at the code, let alone translate it for them. Nor was he in any condition to, frankly. A year on the Baltimore had done his mental stability no favors.

“Well what do you suggest?”

But it was Ren who answered. “There’s a cipher,” he said from up ahead. Both Leta and Fiearius looked at him in surprise. “I can hear you two, you know.” He gestured at the high ceilings. “It echoes in here.”

Fiearius glanced nervously at Leta and then asked, “Where is it?”

A small smile came to his face and he tapped his temple with his index finger. Leta stepped towards him, the book in her hands. “Ren, we can’t ask you to–”

Ren’s eyes darted to the book in her hands and instinctively he took a step back, eyes widened in alarm. Leta tucked the book behind her back and he clenched his eyes, gaining control of himself. “I said I would only lead you to the journal. But…you’re right. It’s useless if you can’t unlock it. Let me talk to your best code-breaker. I’ll–get them started on writing the cipher. As much as I can.”

Leta crossed the space between them and grasped his arm. “Thank you, Ren. Thank you. This is really going to make a difference.”

Ren flashed her a brief, weak smile, and then they started back through the library, back to the exit, picking their way over broken shelves and chairs. Fiearius knew logically he should have been relieved — they were about to close out this job successfully — but instead, he felt his insides sway with uncertainty. He slowed to a stop between the shelves, scanning the room. The back of his neck prickled.

Leta paused, turning back to him. “What is it?” she pressed quietly.

Fiearius held his finger to his lips to quiet her and tilted his head behind him. They were being followed.

He had no real evidence, but somehow Fiearius knew it to be true: years of clandestine, less than legal operations gave him a sense of when someone’s gaze was on his back. Ren’s eyes widened, and Leta nodded once, silently withdrawing the gun at her hip. Fiearius jerked his head indicatively and they all stepped into the hallway between bookshelves, pretending to keep walking when instead they were waiting, not breathing.

Seconds later, and sure enough — there was the unmistakable crack of glass underfoot. Fiearius watched as a figure draped in shadow moved into view, visible between the slanted books on the shelf, and then he appeared before them. Leta exhaled sharply with fear, the figure yelped in surprise, and Fiearius launched himself at the intruder, throwing his forearm around his neck, crushing the man’s Adam apple. With his other hand he pressed his gun hard against his temple to force him to the ground.

Moonlight threw shadows over the man’s face as he struggled; he wasn’t showing the Society librera, nor military greens, and there was no red band around his arm that indicated he was a rebel. “Stop!” the man gasped, clawing at Fiearius’ forearms, kicking free and knocking books off the shelves. Fiearius tightened forearm against his neck savagely as the man wheezed, “Fuck, don’t shoot!”

Before Finn knew what was happening, one of the guards pressed the COMM in her ear. “Control, we need backup at the gates.” The other pointed his gun at Finn’s chest and said, “Step away from the Free.”

“Oh for god’s sake,” Finn growled, holding up his hands in surrender and taking a step away from Cai anyway. “This is ridiculous.”

Cai himself tried to amend the situation. “Really,” he assured the guards, “It’s not like that at all. He’s a friend, honestly, he hasn’t –”

“Sorry, sir, we can’t take that risk,” said the guard as she tapped something on her tablet. “Now if we can just get your ally ID–”

“But — ugh, 210544 — please, this is really unnecessary–”

“Ah, here you are, Cailean, is it?”

“Yes, but listen–”

“Not to worry, sir, we’re well equipped to handle this situation–”

Finn watched them argue back and forth, his frustration mounting. This was so stupid. Not to mention a waste of time. All he needed was to see Raisa for five minutes. Maybe less. And yet he was stuck at the entryway, accused of keeping slaves. He internally groaned.

“Please, I know you’re just doing your job, but–” Cai was saying to the guard when suddenly Finn saw a way out of this. The woman he was speaking to hit a few buttons on a keypad and the pair of doors behind them slowly creaked open. The guard with the gun on him was talking to someone on his COMM, hardly paying attention to Finn. And when the woman told Cai, “Go right ahead, sir, you’ll be well-protected inside, I guarantee it,” Finn decided that he was fully tired of waiting.

In a flash, without bothering to give it a second thought, Finn frowned, turned on his heel, and bolted through the doors.

“Captain!” he heard Cai yell over his shoulder as he dodged his way through the crowded Conduit marketplace. “No!”

It was only moments before Finn was out of sight of the door. He slowed his pace, stepping easily into the throng and disappearing amongst them.

Well he was inside. That was a start. But as he looked around the market and down the hallways beyond, he realized with some discomfort that the truth was — Finn didn’t know where he was going.

As he chose one of the hallways at random, he realized something else: there were more guards, their guns ready and their eyes searching as the COMMs in their ears probably barked Finn’s description.

As he continued down the hallway, he ducked out of sight of one, sped past the back of another and then made the most unfortunate eye contact with another.

He froze in place. So did she. And then, in a flash, her hand went to her COMM, she barked, “Found him!” and Finn did all he could do: run.

Fortunately, the further into the Conduit he ran, the less people he had to avoid ramming into. Unfortunately, the further into the Conduit he ran, the less people he could hide behind. His feet pounded the metal floor, echoes bouncing across the walls and only barely behind him, a slowly growing barrage of pursuers. He could only be thankful that none of them seemed willing to fire off any rounds into the steel tube they ran through. At least not yet…

Still, as fast as Finn could run, they were gaining on him and he needed to reach Raisa before that happened. All he needed was a chance to explain himself. In twenty minutes, they could all be laughing about this.

But for now, he took his chances that he was going to find his salvation down the fork to the right.

Well, he was half right.

In front of him, some 30 yards, was a door that lead into the main command hub of the ship. Standing in that door was, he recognized from the calls Corra used to have with her, Raisa.

The downside was that standing between them was six more guards, far more armed than their counterparts and those arms were pointed directly at him.

Finn stumbled to a halt before them, his hands raised in surrender. His eyes locked on Raisa’s. “Listen, I need to talk to you, it’s –”

But before he could speak further, before he could smooth all this over and explain the situation, the stout older woman raised her own hand to silence him. Her forehead was creased into a frown as she barked, “I don’t know who you are or what you’re trying to do, but it ends here.”

Finn opened his mouth again, determined to get out his reasoning, but then the sound of six guns cocking met his ears and suddenly the words were lost on his tongue.

Someone else, however, found them.

“Wait! Don’t shoot!”

Finn swung his head around to find the source: Cai, gasping for breath and hobbling towards them on his busted leg.

“Don’t–don’t shoot him, he’s a friend!” he went on. “A friend of Corra’s.” Finn’s eyes swung back to Raisa to gauge her reaction.

Her frown hadn’t left, but she was regarding Cai with something a little more akin to curiosity. At last, she refocused on Finn. “Alright. But you better have a damn good explanation for this.”

Not particularly in the mood to hear how genius Ren was — especially from Leta — Fiearius grunted, “It’s fine. Just get us the journals, we’ll handle the rest.” Leta opened her mouth to protest, but Fiearius caught her stare and shook his head. The last thing they needed was another ARC-induced outburst.

She asked Ren, “Where did you hide them then?”

“Remember that old library we used to study in?”

Fiearius wished he hadn’t noticed the pink flush in Leta’s face.

“Of course. You hid them there? But that place is huge, where–”

“Where do you think?”

They paused, and the deep blush in Leta’s neck was impossible to ignore.

“I was sort of hoping one day you’d find them,” he said quietly.

Finally, Fiearius decided he couldn’t take much more of this exchange. He pushed himself to his feet. “Well,” he muttered, looking around at them all. “Back to Vescent then.”

———–

Seconds after the Beacon’s ramp lowered to touch ground in the vast, dusty hangar of the Conduit — the old abandoned ship that now acted as a homebase for freed allies — Finn was stalking down it, face clouded in determination. Without hesitation he started to the main doors where the guards were already watching him with curiosity. The Conduit didn’t particularly like visitors, but Finn had no choice but to invite himself inside: if anyone knew where Corra was, it was the Conduit’s leader and Corra’s mother-like figure from her own enslavement, Raisa. He was sure of it.

Of course, he’d asked Raisa before. When he realized his co-captain had disappeared without a trace, Raisa was among the first people he’d called. If Corra wasn’t with Leta on Vescent and she wasn’t on the Dionysian with Cyrus, she most certainly had fled to the Conduit to offer her help. It was the obvious choice. Raisa, however, had been less than accommodating, informing him that she was not at liberty to discuss Conduit members with outsiders. The matter, since, was dropped.

But this time would be different. This time she would answer.

Footsteps followed him down the ramp. Finn spared a glance over his shoulder and was surprised to see Cai starting after him, eyeing him uncertainly. Daelen and Alyx were nowhere in sight. Hell, he hadn’t even seen Alyx in days. Finn knew he was being reckless, potentially careless, but he didn’t care — not when he was this close to having answers. He had to know how Corra had found Callahan. How she’d killed him. What she’d been up to. And why she’d left when he needed help the most.

The armed guards flanking the door eyed him as he approached. One of them nodded at Finn and asked, “Hello. Your ally ID?”

But then he glanced at Finn’s right ear and noticed that it was fully intact — absent the cut that signified enslavement. The man set his jaw with suspicion. “Who’re you? What can we help you with?”

“Finnegan Riley. I need to speak with Raisa.”

The two guards exchanged bemused glances.

“Sorry sir, outsiders need prior approval to enter the facilities.”

Finn bristled with irritation. The Beacon must have still been in the Conduit’s approved-for-docking list. Apparently, that didn’t extend to its captain. “I have approval and I need to talk to her,” he lied simply, but neither of them seemed to buy it.

Cai, who had been hovering behind Finn, finally stepped forward. “It’s concerning an ally who may be here,” Cai put in, considerably more polite than his counterpart.

One of the guards fixed her attention on Cai and Finn could tell even from here where her eyes traveled. “You’re welcome to come inside and look for yourself, sir,” she offered to Cai.

Before Cai could answer, Finn stepped in front of him in a haste and cut in harshly, “No, I need to be there. I have to talk to Raisa.”

Which was apparently the wrong thing to do. The male guard adjusted his grip on his gun threateningly. “Is this man bothering you, sir?” he asked Cai, though his eyes never left Finn. “Know that inside these doors, you are granted full amnesty, freedom and protection from people like this.” He jutted the end of his gun in Finn’s direction with such an expression of disgust, he immediately jumped to his own defense.

“What?!” he demanded. “I’m not–god, I’m not a slaver, I–”

And that was apparently the wrong word to mention.