Cyrus didn’t need to be told twice. He sighed again, his contentedness meter filling back up, and turned around to get back to work. But instead, he turned around to find Kalli standing at his feet, looking up at Addy’s screen.

“Freeship!” the girl exclaimed, pointing at it.

“What?” He glanced at Addy who shrugged and reminded, “Did you finish picking up your toys?”

Kalli ignored her and said again, “Freeship, freeship!”

“Both of you and your lack of sentences,” Addy muttered.

“What’s ‘freeship’?” Cyrus asked her and Kalli rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Freeship! With the trees that hang from the sky,” she explained in entirely uncertain terms. “The trees and the sharp bits I can’t touch.”

Cyrus stared down at his daughter, completely at a loss. When she’d been too little to talk, he’d wished she could master words to tell them what she wanted or needed. He’d been foolish to hope that would help…

Addy looked just as lost as he did, but just as he was about to give up and assume Kalli was just playing one of her games again, a spark of memory. A memory of hanging gardens that Kalli had been fascinated by and a lot of debris that Cyrus had warned her to steer clear of. He swung his attention to the console in alarm. It couldn’t be. How the hell would she even recognize it anyway? They’d visited once many months ago.

But as he looked at the screen and tilted his head, he too recognized the shape of the ship Addy was researching. “Holy shit…”

“Cyrus!” Addy scolded at once as Kalli laughed and muttered, “P’ahti said a dirty word.”

“S-sorry,” Cyrus apologized quickly, but waved off his girlfriend’s anger. “But look at this. Adds, we know where this ship is.” She frowned at him, but he was on the verge of laughing. “It’s the Conduit.”

———-

Fiearius was running over what he was going to say all the way through the Beacon’s airlock, down the halls of the Carthian warship and right up to the door of Gates’ office. The plan was still shaping and morphing in his head, but presumably by the time he spit it out, it would make sense.

Hopefully.

“Admiral.” The door slid open, catching Fiearius off-guard as he was halfway through the speech in his head again.

He looked over at Gates’ tired eyes and felt a touch of pity for the man. Or perhaps just solidarity. He’d come here preparing for a fight, but now that he saw his counterpart, just as exhausted and run down as Fiearius felt (though perhaps a little less bruised and beaten physically), he didn’t feel quite so combative.

That is, until Gates said, “Late as always, I see.”

Fiearius’ brows snapped together into a frown as he pushed past the man into the room. Of Gates’ offices, it was the smallest he’d seen yet with a desk barely crammed into the tiny space and only a few boxes of personal items still unpacked.

“Bet you’re missing the CORS right about now,” Fiearius muttered as he looked around for a chair. There was only one, a rickety-looking metal thing with one of those boxes on it. He’d stay standing instead.

“It was an unfortunate loss for the greater good,” Gates admitted which was verbatim the Carthian press release about it. Closing the door, he shuffled past Fiearius and leaned his palms on the desk. “How are your injuries?”

Fiearius glanced down at the bruised scar that was forming from where he’d been shot, a nasty looking thing. “I’ve had worse,” he lied.

“And what about –” He gestured vaguely towards Fiearius’ face. The eye, of course, which people couldn’t stop commenting on.

“Doctor said the nerve got fucked up from the electrical shock that brought me back. There’s some surgery they could try, but it’s basically gone.” Fiearius shrugged. Of all the things he could have lost over his lifetime, an eye hardly seemed the worst of it. “Doesn’t bug me much.”

“Does it affect your performance though?”

The question gave Fiearius pause and he couldn’t stop himself from shooting a glare at the older man who probably hadn’t fired a gun or raided a base or headed an operation of his own in over a decade.

“No.”

Thankfully, Gates didn’t argue. “Good, because we’re definitely going to need you for the next phase.”

“Right, I heard you lot were holding meetings behind my back,” Fiearius grumbled good-naturedly, though Gates may have thought he was serious considering his response.

“With the aftermath of Ellegy, we couldn’t wait for your recovery to convene the council. We needed action and we did extend an invitation to Ms. Utada in your absence, but she did not attend any of the meetings.”

Fiearius snorted a laugh. “Yeah she hates you.” Gates provided him a glare that read ‘the feeling’s mutual,’ but he kept the thought to himself.

“Regardless, we’ve decided to move forward with an action I hope you and your fleet will get on board with,” Gates went on, sitting down now and tapping the screen of his console to power it on. “We’ve tracked the Ellegian fleet that took down the CORS. About half of it reported back to Satieri, the last remaining Society stronghold, but another half seems to be holding point in the wreckage for reasons we can’t determine.” Fiearius was busy thumbing through a stack of papers, but he flicked his eyes towards the admiral briefly and held his tongue. Carthis didn’t need to know that the reason was Dez. At least not yet.

“We have reason to believe both the Ellegian fleet and the Satieran fleet are regrouping as we speak to launch an attack on our occupation of Ellegy. With the Society and now the rebellion joined forces on the ground, an air assault would end us entirely. With nowhere close by to retreat to anymore, we need to launch an offensive and quickly. We’ve got enough bombers to–”

“Alright,” Fiearius cut him off suddenly, dropping the papers back in the box and turning to face the desk. “Let me just stop you right there. We’re not bombing anything.”

Gates had paused with his mouth open and his hand in the air. He watched Fiearius, neither surprised nor irritated by the interruption, but curious. He lowered his hand. “I assumed you might say as much. We’ve weighed our options, admiral. Sacrificing the safety of the civilians of Ellegy or Satieri is hardly ideal, but with no other course of action, we must–”

“No,” Fiearius interrupted again and this time Gates laced his hands together in front of him and waited patiently. “We’re not sacrificing anybody. We don’t need to.” He took a deep breath and stepped towards him. “I found the final Councillor.”

Gates’ brows lifted in interest. “Oh?”

Fiearius considered amending the statement. Well, not exactly found. More like figured out something that may help to find him. A possible clue. But that was hardly very convincing, was it? So instead, he nodded.

“And where is he?”

“Satieri.”

Gates stared at him for a moment and then looked down at his console and shook his head. “We can’t breach Satieri’s defenses. We’ll have to move forward with our plan and you can deal with the Councillor afterwards–”

“No.” Fiearius stepped forward again and put his fist down on Gates’ desk. “We don’t have to breach it. Not entirely. I just need to get the Dionysian on the ground.”

“Which would require the rest of the fleet to clear out a path in the air defense. Which we can’t do. We don’t have enough firepower to battle the Satieran barricade head-on, we–”

“I’m not asking you to battle them.” Gates flicked his eyes back towards him and Fiearius could see just the hint of interest behind the mask of skepticism. “I just need you to cover me. Distract them, don’t engage, just enough for me to slip through. When I’m done, you warp out of there to safety. You don’t have to win, you just have to survive.”

That hint of interest, Fiearius could tell, was starting to inch towards belief. But then he asked, “How long do you need?”

Fiearius grimaced. “A few hours.”

Gates dropped his head and stood up, leaning on the desk again. “That’s a long time to survive a superior fleet barraging us.”

“I know, you’re just gonna have to get creative,” Fiearius countered. “But you can do it. We can do this. I can do this. And once it’s done?” He lifted his hands in a shrug. “The Society can’t function as a unit without a commander. That superior fleet?” He dropped his hands again dramatically. “It’s gonna fall apart. I didn’t just start out on this stupid mission for my health, Kaiser. Dismantle the Council, dismantle the Society, dismantle the war. It’s still the best plan and you know it. We can make it work.”

Gates stared at him, his jawline tight and his fists clenched against the wooden desk. Finally, he sighed and growled, “Fine. I guess you haven’t let us down this far.” Fiearius opened his mouth to express his gratitude, but Gates spoke over him. “But! You’re gonna have to convince the war council yourself.”

A smirk danced across Fiearius’ face. “My pleasure.”

Leta provided him with a weak smile. She didn’t have any words of comfort or reassurance to give. This wouldn’t be easy or pain free and given the subject matter they were investigating, it had the likelihood of being quite awful for him. But as unenthused as he was and as guilty as Leta felt for pushing the matter, if the alternative was watching Carthis finish their war the most uncivilized way they knew how, she knew it was for the best.

“We should go tell Gates.”

“Right,” Fiearius agreed, swallowing the lump in his throat and hardening himself. “Let’s go get this over with.” He headed for the door and Leta made to follow him, but Quin spoke up.

“Actually, ya mind stayin’ a spell, doc?”

Leta paused in the doorway to look back at her. Then she looked at Fiearius who just shrugged and said, “I can handle it, don’t worry,” and headed off towards the airlock. Leta watched him go before reentering the room.

She’d known Quin for a long time now. She’d had meetings with Quin, conversations with Quin, she’d even drank with Quin, but she had never, not until this moment, been alone with Quin. It was only just now, in this room, that she realized just how much of a presence the woman had. It was Fiearius’ quarters they stood in. And truly, they were on the Beacon so they belonged to Corra and Finn. But right now, Quin stood in it so confidently that Leta could not imagine this whole ship belonging to anybody but the woman before her at any point in time in its history.

“Sure, what do you need?” she asked, feeling more self-conscious than she liked to.

Quin didn’t immediately answer. She looked Leta up and down. She unfolded her arms and clasped them behind her back. And then she said, “I need you to go to Satieri.”

Leta frowned. “I–Well I was already planning to, but –”

Quin held up her hand and Leta instantly closed her mouth out of some strange survival instinct. “I need you to go to Satieri with Soliveré. To find this whatever it is he’s looking for and get him through it.”

“I–I don’t disagree,” Leta muttered, confused as to why this conversation was even happening. “But–why?”

“Because with all due respect to our dear admiral, brave and intelligent as he may or may not be, let’s not pretend that without a bit of steering every so often, he’d run himself right into the ground. And from what I’ve seen so far, you’re the best candidate for the job. You might even be the only one pointing him in a direction he actually agrees with. So. I’d like you on the ground with him for this one.”

Nothing Quin was saying was news to Leta, though she’d never heard it said so frankly before. Still, the question remained. “Why are you telling me this?”

There was a momentary twitch of irritation in Quin’s brow, but nonetheless, she explained, “Because the damn fool has it in his head that you want nothing to do with him. And look, honey, I don’t know what the state of your relationship is at the moment, nor, honestly, do I give two shits, but now ain’t the time for squabbles and I couldn’t care less about your pride, either of ya. He ain’t gonna ask ya to go with him, but you’re gonna go anyway, alright?”

There was a lapse of silence as Leta gazed at Quin, finally understanding what this was about and finding herself at a loss for words. Fiearius was still bitter that she’d asked for distance weeks ago? So much so that he’d told Quin about it? So much so that he thought, even after Ellegy, that Leta wouldn’t have his back in the upcoming crux of this whole war?

She didn’t know whether to be offended or amused.

Finally, she decided on the latter. “It’s funny,” she mused in a breathy laugh as Quin narrowed her eyes on her, “that you think him not asking was going to stop me from going.”

It took a moment, but slowly, a smirk twisted into Quin’s lips. “I always knew I liked you, Adler.”

—————-

“Oh no! Look out!”

Cyrus gasped and ducked under cover as something went flying over his head and hit the wall. “We’re under attack! Where’s our ammunition?”

Addy, to the left of him, looked over in alarm. “We gave it all to the enemy!” she despaired. “What are we going to do?”

Another projectile was launched right over them. They were doomed, backed into a corner and out of options. “We’re going to have to surrender,” Cyrus told his lover grimly and she provided him a horrifying look of sorrow. “We have no choice. We’ll have to give ourselves over to Great and Powerful Dark Wizard and–”

“Darkness Wizard!” came a shrill correction from the other side of the room.

“Sorry, Great and Powerful Darkness Wizard,” Cyrus reiterated in total seriousness, “And hope for the best.”

“Oh my,” cried Addy, leaning against the couch she hid behind, surrounded by the plush toys that had been viciously lobbed at her. “If only we had someone to save us.”

Both of them waited for a moment in silent expectation, but the room was quiet. Cyrus frowned. Addy glanced over her shoulder. Cyrus said it again. “If only we had someone to save us!”

This time, there was some muffled noises, pattering feet, the sounds of cloth being moved about and finally, a tiny person clambering up onto the furniture above their heads.

“I’ll save you!” shouted Kalli, her hands on her hips and the purple and silver shambles of a costume haphazardly wrapped around her.

Addy gasped and threw her hand onto Cyrus’ chest, looking up in admiration. “The Mighty Dragon of the North! She’s here to rescue us!”

“Go Mighty Dragon! Defeat the Darkness Wizard!” cried Cyrus as Kalli, nay, the Mighty Dragon, leapt off the couch and ran across the room to tackle the bear dressed loosely in Cyrus’ clothing that had presumably been behind the attacks.

“Yes, go fight the wizard,” Addy whispered in Cyrus’ ear, sidling up to his side and letting her hand slide south from his chest. “And I’ll take the prince.”

“Doesn’t the hero get the boy in the end?” Cyrus asked, turning himself towards her and looping his arms around her waist.

Addy shrugged her shoulder towards where their daughter was still furiously wrestling a stuffed bear. “Ya snooze ya lose,” she cooed and closed the distance between their lips.

The kiss, warm and sultry and ever so enticing, however, only lasted up until Kalli was suddenly above them again grimacing. “Ew, gross.” She stuck out her tongue and Addy laughed as she broke the kiss to look up at her.

“Did you win?”

“Of course!”

“Know what to do now then?”

Kalli let out a long dramatic groan, dropping her head and her hands in utter defeat. “Clean up…” she grumbled, kicking a misplaced couch cushion as she retreated to pick up the array of toys and clothes and miscellaneous furniture she’d thrown across the room in the heat of battle. “But I saved you!” she tried, a note of desperation in her tone.

“And we’re very thankful,” said Addy, standing up and helping Cyrus to his feet. “But does the Mighty Dragon of the North want her people to live in squalor?”

The little girl sighed heavily. “No…”

“Then?”

“Clean up…”

As Kalli resigned herself to her task, Cyrus started to lend a hand and Addy sat back down in front of her console, where she’d been when this whole attack had begun. Over her shoulder, Cyrus could see images of ships on the screen. Very very old ships. Ever since Corra had found a hint that the missing puzzle piece in the Transmitter mystery was a ship made from the Ark, they’d been reading everything they could to locate one. Ships didn’t just disappear, after all. Even if they were torn apart, those pieces went somewhere. It was just a matter of finding out where.

But right now? After everything that had happened yesterday with Dez and Fiearius and Leta and the hours long discussion about the state of the war, the Transmission wasn’t exactly on Cyrus’ mind.

Pushing one last couch cushion into place with his knee and leaving Kalli to finish the rest, Cyrus sauntered over behind Addy and wrapped his arms around her, leaning his chin on her shoulder.

“Found anything?” he asked, just because it seemed like the right thing to say. Of course she hadn’t. She would have told him if she had. But it was easier than bringing up what he actually wanted to talk about.

Addy shook her head. “Nothing yet.”

“Hm.” Cyrus squeezed her a little and tried to form some words. Just a couple. None came.

Fortunately, Addy knew him far too well. “What’s on your mind, Cy?”

“Satieri,” he blurted out before he could second-guess himself. Addy turned away from the console and looked up at him, curious. “I mean. Going to Satieri,” he continued. “Since I guess that’s on the agenda. Maybe. From what Fiear was saying last night. They might be going to Satieri soon.”

“Yeah, he did make it sound that way,” Addy admitted, shifting her body beneath his arms to face him. “You thinking about going with him?”

Cyrus swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah?” was his first answer. “Well, no,” was his second. “Thinking about it, yes. But–going to Satieri? It’s dangerous. Really dangerous. And–I don’t want to dictate any of this or force us to–not that I’d force us to–”

“Cy?” Addy smiled at him kindly. “Use sentences.”

He chuckled nervously and met her stare. “I just–I know this is important. And a free Satieri is what we wanted all along. And you said you wanted to be more involved and I don’t want to hold you back from that. If there’s any point to be involved, this would be it, right? So–about Satieri. It’s dangerous. And honestly it scares the crap out of me. But if you want to help, if you want to be a part of it, we’ll do it.”

Addy watched him as he stumbled through his explanation, quiet and pensive and patient. She continued to do so even after he’d finished. But finally, she smiled and lifted her hands to his cheeks. “Oh Cy-Cy. You are sweet and adorable and you heard me and that means so much, but–” A light chuckle passed her lips. “Marching into the midst of battle with your brother to free Satieri was definitely not what I meant.”

Cyrus couldn’t deny the relief that flooded through him. “No?”

“We’re nerds, sweetie,” Addy laughed. “Not warriors. I want to be involved, I want to be present and aware and doing something that helps if possible, but I don’t want to be dead. I trust Fiear and Leta and the others to do right by Satieri. I believe in what they’re doing. But I’m perfectly happy to root for them from the sidelines over here.” She gestured to the room around them. “If something comes up, something that caters to our specific talents, then by all means, let’s help where we can. But for now?” She leaned forward to kiss him briefly. “We’re all good where we are.”

Cyrus took a moment to let his emotions catch up to where his head was at. Finally, he exhaled heavily. “Thank the gods.”

Addy let out a long chuckle and turned back around towards the console. “No, thank me, for not being as delusional as you to think we could handle covert ops to home. Now get a console and help me find this signal booster.”

Fiearius’ arms dropped back down to his sides as he stared at him in disbelief, “You did what?” Shocked, he spun to Leta. “But–you had the CID when–”

“He had it for a while,” Leta admitted, not quite meeting his eyes. “You were dying, I had to focus on that, not–”

“So you let him borrow it?!”

Now, she did meet his stare, angry and defiant. “I didn’t have a choice, Fiearius, he didn’t give me a choice.”

“And even if I had, you made the right one,” Dez put in, pulling attention back his way. “Without my intervention — well, your intervention — the battle would have turned very quickly away from any side we favored. It would have turned into a slaughter. As it stands, Ellegy is liberated from outside clutches both Society and Carthian. The Rogue Verdant finally stepped up to his role and commanded the Society forces that have long looked to him for guidance, leading to the betterment of an entire planet.”

“You commanded the Society forces to join with the rebellion?” came Addy’s quiet demand. “You?”

“Technically he did.” Dez pointed to Fiearius.

“And they just….listened?” Corra asked, skepticism dripping from every word.

“Many of them, yes.”

“Why?” asked Finn. “Why suddenly switch sides just because you–Fiear told them to?”

“Because I gave them compelling reasons.”

Finally, Fiearius, who had been massaging the part of his temple that began hurting as soon as Dez started talking, snapped his eyes open. “What did you tell them?” There was an unfortunate note of panic in his voice.

Dez regarded him with what he could only assume was pride. “That the Council was decimated, that Carthis is closing in on their empirical endgame and that if they followed me–you–we could stand up and bring in a new age of the Society.” He shrugged. “Pretty straightforward.”

Fiearius, for quite some time, could do nothing but stare at the man standing before him. This fucker, who he’d known since the days of playgrounds and scraped knees, now trying to, once again, manipulate the course of his life to fit into his agenda. New age of the Society? Straightforward? The longer he stood there, stunned into silence, the more the anger boiled within him until at last, it exploded.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” He felt Cyrus jump away from him in surprise. “What the hell, Dez?!” He felt like hitting him. Hard. Very very hard. “Of all the fucked up things you’ve done–” He raised his fist and was about to give into his rage and lunge towards him, but a hand caught his arm and held it back.

It was Leta. She was staring up at him, her eyes ablaze and it gave him a moment’s pause. Only a moment’s. “Let go.”

“Hear him out,” she countered at once, and for a second he knew he must have heard her incorrectly.

“Hear him out?” he repeated incredulously. “Hear him out. You. Are telling me to hear him—HIM–out? You?”

“Fiear, have you looked around lately? We’re in an impossible situation here. With everything that’s happening on every planet we’ve touched, things are not good and our outlook is even worse.” She swallowed hard and he got the feeling she was swallowing her pride too to even say this. “So you need to hear him out. Because we need to know every option we have.”

Stunned as he was, Fiearius stared back at her. Then he looked around. Corra was thoughtful, Cyrus looked nervous, Addy, worried. Finn gave him a helpless shrug. And Fiearius let out a sigh.

“Fine.” He turned back to Dez, his eyes narrowed into slits. “What’s your plan here? Make your point and make it quick.”

Dez, who did not seem even the slightest bit concerned at any of these proceedings, did just as he was told. “You take your place as Verdant and command the Society forces that will listen to overthrow Carthis in the regions they’ve invaded and free Satieri from Council rule.”

It sounded so simple like that. So easy. So, as he said, straightforward, that Fiearius was laughing quietly when he said, “You want me to betray Carthis.”

“I want you to not betray the Society,” Dez corrected and Fiearius frowned at him.

“Little late for that.”

“It’s not. You’ve betrayed the Council. You’ve betrayed the system. Perhaps you’ve betrayed your planet, but you’ve not betrayed the Society because that’s not what the Society is.”

“Sure, it’s really just a bunch of sunshine and rainbows, not like they kill innocent people or use drugs to indoctrinate populations or destroy planets or anything,” Cyrus mumbled.

“Under order of the Council, yes. In the current system, absolutely. But the Society isn’t those things, the Society is a network of citizens. Ordinary people. People like us.” He gestured to himself and Fiearius. “People like you.” He waved towards Leta. “It’s a body of people doing what they think is right or people doing what they think they have to in order to survive. They don’t need to be invaded and killed, they don’t even need to be liberated. They just need new leadership.”

It was a fancy speech, perhaps the fanciest he’d ever heard Dez give. So much so that he wondered if someone had coached him in it. Varisian maybe? Or one of his other followers? But fancy as it was, it didn’t put him at ease.

“And you think I should be that new leadership?”

“Absolutely. You’re the Verdant.”

“Not anymore I’m not,” he argued.

“Doesn’t matter. The people know you as their Verdant. You’re the most qualified. You’ve successfully commanded a fleet for half a decade. You know the intricacies of this conflict probably better than anyone. And they look to you already. Carthis made sure of that.”

Fiearius snorted in disbelief. “If you’re trying to sell me as the new leader of a free Society, I’m pretty sure joining up with Carthis and killing them all did the opposite.”

But Dez was shaking his head. “Carthis recruited you precisely because you’re sympathetic to the Society. They’ve used your image to prove that they’re not the merciless conquerors they are. Why would the Verdant, a man who understood what it was like on the inside of the Society, how hard it is to get out, team up with a government that didn’t have their best interests at heart? Then they put you in situations to prove that. How many times did you show mercy to agents who stood against you? How many did you save despite being on opposing sides? Whether they know it or not, they built your reputation for you.”

There was a part of Fiearius that thought maybe he was right about all this. Maybe this really was an option available to him, that he could control the good parts of the Society, the parts that weren’t brainwashed into servitude, and fix everything he’d done. Everything that Carthis had done.

And then there was the logical part.

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Dez rolled his eyes. “Fiearius, what happened when Society defectors on Vescent surrendered to Carthis after the battle?”

Leta was the one who answered. “They were captured and imprisoned. Offered forgiveness and then locked away to be forgotten.”

“And how much of Vescent was part of the Society? Maybe eight percent? Ten max? They were still new there, still growing.” Dez fixed his stare on Fiearius and for the first time since he’d known him, he actually looked like he believed in something when he said, “What’s going to happen when Carthis takes over Ellegy? Or Satieri? Where that number is closer to sixty percent. What happens to a planet after sixty percent of its population is deemed criminal and disappears?”

Silence fell over the room and every pair of eyes was on Dez, but his stare was locked onto Fiearius, his jaw clenched and his fists balled at his side. “Things are coming to a head now in this war, we all know that,” he went on, his tone low and quiet. “There’s not much time left. You need to consider who you are and what you stand for. And if I can’t convince you, so be it. But you said it yourself. Under slightly different circumstances, you and I could still be back there on Satieri, getting assassination orders every afternoon and being home in time for dinner.” He lifted his hands helplessly. “Take the time you need. But there’s a flock of our kin and a fleet of ships awaiting your orders.”

Dez raised his hand to his forehead in a half-hearted salute before taking a few steps backwards and then turning back towards his ship, leaving the group in a hushed, hurried discussion of what he’d said. All except Fiearius, who could do little more than stare at the black ship as it rose off the hangar floor and sailed out into space.

He couldn’t hear what those around him were saying, whether they agreed, whether they thought the whole thing was crazy. He didn’t really want to. He only remembered they were still there when he felt a hand brush against his softly, a fleeting touch of warmth.

Leta was watching him, intense and serious. She asked the question he didn’t want to hear. The question he had no idea how to answer. “What are you going to do?”

“Sorry, you can go, you definitely don’t need to listen to me rant.” She waved him towards the door. “I’m fine, really.” But Fiearius didn’t walk away. Instead, he sat down next to her.

“I know you are.”

“I’m not upset about him,” Leta told him affirmatively. “Or anything he said.”

“Didn’t think you were.”

Leta clenched her hands in her lap and let out a sigh. “The whole thing just got me thinking too much. About the things that are really important to me. The things that matter and the things I can’t compromise on. Things like –” She picked up the tablet Corra had left beside her and tossed it onto the furthest cushion, her expression crinkled in disgust. “That. And then–things I can compromise on, things I can forgive. Or things I should have forgiven.” She glanced over at him, feeling more nervous than she cared to admit, though he only gave a thoughtful nod as he propped his chin in his hands and stared off at the wall opposite them.

Before she could consider the implications, she asked, “Did I do the right thing?” Now, he glanced over at her, questioning. “You know, back then. When you and me–” She hesitated and shook her head. “I know, it’s ancient history now. It doesn’t matter, but I can’t stop thinking about it. When I left. Should I have stayed?”

Fiearius considered her for a long, almost uncomfortably long time. She found herself watching his clouded eye because it was easier to meet than the one that searched her intently. Finally, he drew a deep breath and said, “Well. I wish you had,” which was an answer that threw Leta off not because she hadn’t thought it was true but moreover that he wouldn’t say it if it was. But only moments later he met her gaze again and said firmly, “But no. No, you shouldn’t have.”

When Leta just stared at him, lost for words, he sighed again and said, “Look, you want my opinion? You always expect the best out of people because you always give the best out of yourself. And sometimes, for a lot of us, myself definitely included–” He grimaced. “–it’s really hard to meet those standards. But. That’s on us. Not you. Stick to your guns, they’re all you’ve got in this shithole of a Span.”

Catching Leta a little off-guard, Fiearius brought his fingers up to her chin and lifted her head to face him. “Don’t you ever change for anybody, okay?”

She provided him a weak smile, but couldn’t conjure an appropriate response. She wasn’t even sure what an honest answer would be. She couldn’t place what she was feeling in that moment, let alone vocalize it. So he stepped in for her, reaching past her to grab that tablet again. “Oh and fuck this guy. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Leta snorted a laugh as Fiearius got to his feet. “So I shouldn’t fuck him then?”

Fiearius paused and looked down at her curiously before letting out a sharp laugh and shrugging dramatically. “Who am I to tell you what to do?”

Suddenly, the COMM on Corra’s wall lit up and its owner’s voice asked, “Hey is Fiear still up there?”

“Whatcha need, princess?” Fiearius called back.

“Not sure, but this hail we’re getting? We–uh–think it’s for you?”

——————-

As it turned out, the strangely masked signal was for him and once Fiearius got to the bridge and heard the message himself, he was unsurprised. “Bit of a rude way to say hello,” Finn had remarked and Fiearius had simply shook his head. It was just like Dez.

The whole lot of them (Leta, Corra, Finn, even Cyrus and Addy who they’d passed along the way) joined him as he watched Dez’s sleek black ship dock in the Beacon’s hangar from the viewport above, curious as to what this was about. Leta knew, Fiearius got the feeling. She’d mentioned she had spoken with Desophyles briefly when she’d given him the Verdant CID back, but insisted he hear the rest of the story from the man himself. Fiearius hadn’t sought him out on purpose. He’d show up on his own eventually.

And here he was, marching down the ramp into the pressurized hangar with all his usual pomp and circumstance, acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Fiearius and his entourage met him halfway across the bay and gave no word of greeting. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

Dez stopped a good three meters away and seemed to size Fiearius up with his gaze. “You’re looking better than when I last saw you,” he surmised at last.

Fiearius responded with a tight, humorless smile. “No thanks to you.”

If Dez cared, he didn’t show it. Instead, he moved on, business-like as ever. “I have much to catch you up on.”

“I bet.”

“Shall we speak privately?”

Fiearius glanced to his side at Leta. She looked straight back at him and frowned dully. Don’t you dare try and send me away, he imagined her saying. So he turned back to Dez and shrugged. “Nope.”

Dez hesitated for a moment, examining the gathering one by one, perhaps wondering how each was going to affect whatever it was he had to say. If Leta didn’t shut him down immediately, Cyrus probably would. Finn and Corra were notorious for pointing out anything that was illogical and Addy, though typically polite and kind, didn’t have the time or patience for bullshit. He was outnumbered and he knew it.

Still, he didn’t have a choice so finally he relented. “Very well. I suppose I should start by clearing up what happened on Ellegy.”

“You somehow convinced the rebellion to betray Carthis and blow up the city for you,” Fiearius put in helpfully.

“Blow up the city for them,” Dez corrected. “But yes. Essentially. We needed leverage to bargain the return of the planet once Carthis’ invasion was complete.”

“Sure, sure, stupid plan, but I got that part.” It was all over the news, how could he not? They didn’t know it was Dez behind it, of course, but putting the pieces together was easy enough. What he cared more about was the incident that had gnawed at him for the past two weeks. Those two words that had been the last thing he’d heard before he slipped into the cold embrace of death.

“Tell me about Varisian.”

Dez’s stony exterior faltered for only a moment. Had the question surprised him? Had he forgotten about that piece of the puzzle? Or was the sound of her name just something he wasn’t prepared for?

A half second later, his answer was typically collected however. “She wasn’t meant to kill you,” he clarified. “That was an unfortunate side effect of bad timing. You weren’t supposed to even be there when she arrived. Her mission was to gain access to the Councillor’s chambers under the guise of protecting her and–”

“So I was right,” Fiearius cut him off. “She was working with you.”

Dez blinked at him. “Yes.” As though this was obvious and required no additional explanation. Fiearius barely stopped himself from gaping.

“What. The fuck.”

“Yes, she was working with me,” he confirmed again, apparently confused by the apparent need for elaboration.

Fortunately, Leta stepped in before Fiearius’ frustration got the better of him. “Since Vescent, right?” It sounded like a guess. “The two of you captured her on Vescent and you took her–somewhere. And convinced her to work with you?”

He nodded. “I had her in my custody for some time. We found that we agreed on many things. But we both knew she was still more useful in her current role, staying close to the Council. We parted ways, but remained in contact to collaborate on operations from either side.”

“Wait a minute,” put in Cyrus, stepping forward from behind his brother. “If she was working for you, why the hell did she keep trying to set everyone on fire?”

“She wasn’t. Her tasks were to assist the missions. She lead us to the Ascendian Councillor in the bunker. She convinced Calimore to provide his research. She–”

“She burned half my arm off!” Fiearius snapped suddenly, raising his gnarled forearm for all to see.

Dez just shrugged. “She didn’t know you were going to stick around once the base was burning down. She was just trying to direct you to where you needed to be. The fire thing was her idea, I don’t know where that came from.” Fiearius eyed him skeptically until he admitted, “Alright, I may have told her the Pieter Roland story. And she still never liked you.”

“Hell of a way to show it…” Finn muttered behind him.

“She was, however, somewhat singular in that opinion,” Dez went on briskly, which was perhaps the weirdest way anyone had ever told Fiearius that he was likeable, a strange statement in and of itself. “Amongst defectors and doubters, you are quite popular.”

“Well,” Fiearius snapped, unimpressed. “I’m flattered.”

“You shouldn’t be. It has little to do with you and more to do with what you represent,” Dez corrected and it was all Fiearius could do to keep himself from slapping his palm to his forehead. “Regardless, those amongst the Society are looking to you. Which is exactly why I did what I did on Ellegy.”

Finally, they were getting to the meat of it. “And what, exactly, did you do?”

“I used your Verdant chip to send out a message in your name to anyone within the Society willing to listen and consider joining the defectors.”