Finn lowered his beer glass to the counter. “Of course.”

Fiearius was staring over the bar, gazing at the row of bottles though Finn was sure he wasn’t seeing them at all. “I–after Satieri, y’know, when I came back, I was pretty…well, fucked up.”

“You mean when you were talking to yourself and wouldn’t get out of bed?” said FInn brightly. “Yeah, I recall.”

“It was bad. Real bad,” Fiearius admitted. “It was like…I could feel my consciousness drifting away anytime I wasn’t clinging onto it. Which was bad enough, but then Daelen showed up and said I wasn’t going to walk again and–” He put his forehead in his hand and shook his head. “I was just losing it, y’know?”

“You got low,” Finn agreed.

“Worse than low,” Fiearius groaned. “Do you–you’ve heard of Flush right?”

Finn absorbed the sudden, odd question quickly and invisibly. “That shit Society agents used to run on? Yeah, it was in all the best back rooms on Archeti.” He grinned. “Too expensive for me, though.”

“Well. I have a source.” He turned his gaze on him, and it was then Finn noticed how bloodshot his eyes were. “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought–I was in a pit and I didn’t think I could ever get out of it. But Flush was–I don’t know, it looked like a rope so I grabbed it.”

Finn couldn’t mask his shock. He had no idea, and he considered himself an excellent judge of people. “You’re using now?” he demanded in disbelief.

Fiearius closed his eyes, a portrait of guilt. “It’s not like I want to,” he breathed. “But it helped! It really did. I don’t think I could have gotten better without the stuff. It was the only option I had. Now though?” He sunk again. “I don’t need it anymore. I’m better. But–I can’t kick it.”

“You’ve been trying to quit?”

“For over a month,” Fiearius admitted. “I can make it about four days before it starts to feel like my insides are trying to wring themselves out. I made it five last week and I was coughing up blood for a straight hour before I gave in.” Digging his hands into his hair, Fiearius shook his head. “It’s what they always say with Flush. Either the drug itself slowly kills you…”

“Or the withdrawals will,” Finn finished. “Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“I managed it before. But that was–well, it was hell as it was then and I’m not nearly that young anymore. This time, I–I just honestly don’t know if I even can do this.”

Finn paused, and then said slowly, “I take it Leta doesn’t know.”

Fiearius cast him a hopeless glance. “Would I be here if she did?”

“And you don’t plan to tell her.”

“I almost did. A few times. But–I couldn’t. Gods, she would never forgive me. She’ll just see it as a betrayal. Not only am I taking a potentially fatal drug she certainly wouldn’t approve of, I took it because her treatment wasn’t working. After everything she did. I can’t tell her. I can’t.”

Finn lapsed into a stunned silence. Of course Fiearius couldn’t tell Leta, but of course he should have; she was a doctor. But Finn wasn’t going to be the one to tell Fiearius to confess to his girlfriend that he’d been lying for six months.

“But you need off of it,” Finn finished. “And here’s the thing: she’s going to find out eventually.”

“I know. Trust me, I know. Either I tell her now or when she finds me expelling my internal organs into a rubbish bin, I know. The results will be the same regardless. I guess I’m just trying to delay the inevitable…”

“And you need off it,” Finn reminded sharply. “And you can’t ask your doctor-lady for help. So what about Daelen? Talk to him.”

“Daelen? Sure, can’t talk to Leta, talk to her longtime friend instead.”

“He’d keep it quiet, mate. He wouldn’t tell Leta. He takes confidentiality seriously.”

“Maybe he would, but then she’ll think he’s betrayed her too,” Fiearius argued. “I won’t put the guy in that position. It’s not his problem.”

“Well you need off this drug. And apparently quitting cold turkey isn’t going to work.” Finn looked him up and down in concern. “So what’re ya gonna do?”

“Honestly?” Fiearius looked over at him, hopelessness in every facet of his expression. “I have no idea.”

————

Hours after they’d left the Dionysian, when Cyrus and Addy were slowly wandering back to the ship docks, it was hard to believe Cyrus had ever been nervous at all. He was no expert on what constituted a ‘good’ date, but the way she had shared in his excitement as they perused the science museum, the way she had humored his stupid jokes over dinner, and particularly the way she strolled beside him now, so close that their arms brushed against each other every other step — well, those couldn’t be bad signs, could they?

Currently, he was listening with interest as she relayed to him a tale from years past.

“So I was only an assistant at the time, but even as an assistant, I was supposed to have some say in the repairs. But the whole team just thought ‘oh she’s the boss’ daughter, she’s only here to appease him, she must not know anything.’” She rolled her eyes. “And go figure, they ignored my suggestion and used the TXC sealant and what happened?”

“The water line exploded,” Cyrus guessed.

“The water line exploded!” Addy said, shaking her head. “If only they’d listened to little old me.”

Cyrus laughed. “You’ve basically just described my entire university experience.”

For some reason, Addy’s smile faded slightly. “Oh yeah?”

“I guess it was since I was younger than most everyone there, but any group project? Same story. Though I guess that’s kind of inevitable when you get five undergrad egos in a room together, huh?”

“Oh, I bet,” she said agreeably, but there was no denying it — she definitely lost her smile this time, she had definitely shifted her gaze away. Had he said something wrong? But how could he have upset her? The evening air was warm, with a pleasant breeze; the sea of stars overhead were bright white; they were entirely alone, walking down the docks along a row of darkened ships.

But before he could venture a guess, Addy suddenly said, in a rush of a confession, “I actually never went to university.”

“What?” said Cyrus at once, confused. Together, they came to a stop beneath the Beacon. Addy hovered next to one of the ship pillars, massaging her neck in embarrassment.

“I didn’t want to tell you because, well, it’s humiliating. That you finished grad school when you were freakin’ 21 and here’s me — no actual education, working in my dad’s workshop — ” She caught her hand around her neck and stared at him with wide, startled grey eyes.

Cyrus was stunned — not that she hadn’t gone to school, but that he had the power to make anyone, let alone Addy, feel self-conscious. She was searching over his face as if scared he was about to insult her, and he quickly began shaking his head.

“You really–I can’t–but you’re so amazing!” he sputtered in disbelief. Addy looked skeptical. “I can’t believe you’ve never had formal training. I mean, the things you’ve done with the Beacon, they’re incredible. You may have never studied engineering, but you’re amazing at it.”

“Without a degree,” Addy argued dully, “I’m really just a mechanic.”

Cyrus scoffed. “No. No no no, you are not a mechanic. Trust me, I’ve worked with some of the more renowned engineers in the field and you.” He smiled at her and took one of her hands in his. “You are one of the best engineers I’ve ever met.”

Addy let out a laugh, a genuine, ringing laugh. “You’re just saying that because we’re on a date and you have to flatter me.” She took his hand and swung it playfully to the side.

“No way,” Cyrus laughed. “If I was trying to flatter you, I’d say you’re the most beautiful engineer I’ve ever met. But that’s not the truth.” She raised her brows at him in interest. “The truth is, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

She shook her head, adopting an air of disbelief. “Now I know you’re trying to flatter me.”

“Believe what you want, I know what’s real,” he said with a shrug, and it was then that Addy tightened her hold on his hand and stepped closer, gently closing the distance between them.

Cyrus felt his insides clench with nerves. But when Addy’s expression softened with affection, her fingers hooked around his shirt collar and her lips brushed against his in a soft, warm kiss, he realized this wasn’t difficult or awkward at all. His eyes fell closed and he thought that this, somehow, felt impossibly natural.

Quietly, Addy said, “I had a really good time tonight,” and he could feel her smiling against his lips. He also feel himself turning red, so all he said was, “Me, too,” before leaning into their kiss. She responded in turn, gently leading him backwards until her back met the ship’s wall. Her hand tightened around his arm, his hands slid down to her hips and just as passion surged through their embrace, Cyrus felt an instinct that made him draw back an inch.

“We should–shouldn’t we take this–y’know, slow?” he breathed, forcing himself to drag his gaze away from those incredibly tempting lips.

“Oh, right, yes.” Addy nodded once in agreement, her breath short and her face flushed. “Slow. Slow is good.”

Cyrus paused for a moment longer before he couldn’t help but blurt out, “But a little more couldn’t hurt, right?”

A shy grin spread across her face. “I doubt it,” she said quickly, wrapping her forearm around his neck as he leaned in to deepen their kiss.

“Are you okay?” said Addy, laughing as she approached and crouched down to help him.

“Yeah, yeah, totally fine,” he said, despite the fact that his foot was throbbing in his boot. “Are you okay?” he asked without thinking, wincing as he lifted the box with his arms and discarded it back onto the pile.

Addy laughed again. “I’m a little jet-lagged, but I’m okay.”

Luckily, it was then that Fiearius and Corra purposely moved away, leaving them alone, or as alone as they could be at the base of the bustling cargo bay.

“That’s good,” he said blankly, brushing his dirt-streaked palms together. “The okay part I mean. Not the jet-lag, that’s bad. I didn’t mean–” Abruptly, he cut himself off because he was babbling like an idiot. He could talk to her just fine over the COMM, why was he so terribly bad at talking to her face to face?

Just pretend it’s like before, he told himself and finally managed to sound at least a little normal when he asked, “So are you here long?”

“Actually, I’m not sure. Corra just decided at the last minute that we should come here.”

So probably not long then, Cyrus realized, his heart sinking slightly. Then this might be his only chance. He’d been kicking himself for not having the guts to ask her out the last time the Beacon had been around and that was well over a month ago. Wasn’t the last month supposed to teach him something? If he could help bring down Society bases and strongholds and ships? Surely he could ask Adrasteia Atelier for a date.

So before he even had the opportunity to second guess himself, before he could talk himself out of it, he decided to have courage. “Well since you’re here, how about that dinner I promised?” he asked suddenly and then added, “I mean, unless you have plans already.” A little courage anyway.

Addy’s smile softened, but not out of any sort of displeasure. “No. I don’t have plans.”

Relief flooded through him at once. “Yeah?” he asked, failing to mask his excitement. “That’s–well, great. Then–” But then the familiar dread of panic came back. He had no idea where to go. He didn’t know this planet at all. He barely even knew which planet they were on.

“I–I didn’t know you were coming,” he told her hastily, “So I didn’t have time to really plan or do any research on what’s around here or what’s good or–”

“That’s okay!” said Addy, waving him off. She supplied him another smile that made his heart flip over in his chest. “Let’s just go exploring, how about that?”

———————–

Corra had never imagined that she might actually be nervous to talk to Leta. Nervous? To talk to her best friend? It was nonsense. But as she approached the infirmary, nervous was exactly what she felt. For the moment, Leta stood at the counter, scrolling through a console screen, her brow furrowed with concentration. Corra hovered in the doorway, and for a few seconds, Leta had no idea she had a visitor.

Corra swallowed her nerves. It was true: things between them hadn’t been the same recently. The Beacon and the Dionysian had very effectively gone their separate ways and Leta had become more than just physically distant because of it. It was easy to guess why. She probably saw the Beacon’s lack of assistance as being unfaithful in spite of their actual logic behind the decision. Corra could only hope that this impromptu visit might serve to mend things a little.

Fighting back her nerves, it was with her usual cheerful enthusiasm that Corra said, “Whatcha workin’ on, Doctor Adler?”

At once, Leta dropped her hand from the screen and turned around, shocked. “Corra? What’re you doing here?” But it wasn’t an unpleasant shock in her face

Without waiting for an invitation, Corra lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Leta. “I missed you,” she declared, squeezing her head against her chest before she was unable to stop herself from looking up at her and begging, “Please stop hating me.”

“You — what?” Leta let out an uncertain laugh, pressing her chin over Corra’s shoulder. “Hate you? I don’t — “

“You do, I can tell you do,” Corra insisted, releasing her and taking a step back. “You never call me anymore and when I call you, you always sound like you’d rather be doing something else and you never tell me what you’re up to and I know it’s because we’re not helping you fight the Society, I know, but please don’t hate me for it, please.”

“Corra, I don’t hate you. Of course I don’t. We’ve just had a really crazy few weeks around here. All these raids.” She smiled sadly. “I swear I’m not ignoring you.”

Corra felt her panic subside a little. But all she managed was, “Really?”

“Of course really!”

“So you’re…not mad that we’re not helping out?”

Leta heaved a sigh. “It sucks, but I understand. And I’m not ignoring you, there’s just — a lot going on. And on top of it all, Fiear’s been really sick lately.”

Leta leaned back against the counter, folding her arms. Across from her, Corra sat on the edge of an exam bench, dangling her feet toward the floor, and they both settled into the normal rhythms of their long talks.

“I thought Fiear looked a little under the weather,” Corra muttered. “What’s the matter with him?”

“He’s had the flu off and on for a month. And he’s exhausted. It could be stress, honestly, with all of these raids … “

“Could be,” Corra agreed. “He’s not really known for taking the best care of himself.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, though. It’ll pass eventually,” Corra assured her. “And if it doesn’t and you get sick of him coughing on you, you’re still welcome on the Beacon y’know,” she added cheerfully. “Daelen’s a good doctor and all, but Finn has this bad habit of getting beat up so we could probably use another.”

Leta smiled thinly. “I’ll keep the offer in mind. Hey — how are things with Finn, anyway? Do you two get along okay?”

“Turns out we make a pretty good team,” Corra told her, grinning. “He does all the charming and I do all the shooting.” She formed her fingers into a gun shape and pretended to fire it, making Leta laugh. “Works out great.”

“So you’re like, friends now?” Leta looked amused. “I thought you used to hate him.”

“I never hated him,” she defended. “Just didn’t like him. I mean, he’s still cocky and arrogant and annoying, but after spending all this time with him, I guess I just ‘get him’ more, y’know? He’s an alright guy deep down.”

“Well, that’s good.” Leta paused, and suddenly her expression shifted with sudden amusement. Or maybe it was disgust.

“Hang on. You’re not like — you two, you and Finn, you’re not — you’re not — “

“What?!” Corra cried laughing incredulously and internally wondering if she had done something to hint at the more intimate side of her relationship with her co-captain or if Leta just knew her too well. “Of course not!” And with a sly smirk, she added, “I know better than to get involved with a captain.”

“Fair enough,” said Leta, but she still look unconvinced. “I just happened to hear that you two happened to get a little close before…”

Corra groaned. “Is Niki still telling people about that? I’m gonna kill that kid.” She shook the thought from her head and met Leta’s stare squarely. “Yes, we made out that one time on Paraven, no, it wasn’t a big deal, okay?”

Leta laughed and shrugged. “Alright, alright. It’s just not fair, you know everything about my love life and lately you’ve told me next to nothing about yours.”

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” Corra lied. “Trust me, you’d be the first to know.”

————

“So after we got the ship back,” Finn was saying, taking a pull from his beer and then lowering the glass to the bar counter, “Corra just goes up to the guy. And I think he was expecting her to just shout at him or I don’t know what, but she goes up to him, just lifts her fist and decks him across the face.”

Fiearius laughed. “Sounds like our princess alright. She’s something, that girl.” He tilted his beer towards his lips.

“Got that right.” Finn snorted, letting his gaze wander around the crowded pub. It’d been months since he’d sat down for a beer with someone for anything but business reasons. While Corra was running her ‘personal errand,’ Finn had quickly taken the opportunity to spend a few hours with his own friend.

But unless Finn was very much mistaken (he was sure he wasn’t), Fiearius was not completely at ease this evening, even as they ordered another round and relaxed at the bar. Finn glanced sideways at him. “So that about catches you up on our exciting adventures,” he mused. “What’s going on with you? Besides attacking the Society. How’re things with the lady?”

Fiearius’ expression flickered. “Good,” he said at last. “They’re good. Things are good.”

“Oh yeah? Really?” Finn lifted a brow expectantly, but Fiearius averted his eyes.

“No. No, she’s great. Things are great.”

Finn waited a beat, simply letting the happy chatter of the bar fill in for him. Then, Fiearius said abruptly, “Can I tell you something? Something you won’t repeat to anyone else.”

For a moment, he simply squinted at her through the steam. Then he said, “You alright?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“You didn’t get hurt or something on the raid, did you?”

“No, I’m okay.”

His face was still darkened with concern, however, so Leta stepped closer, raised herself to tip-toe and brushed her lips against his softly. It was only then she felt him relax, and then Leta nodded her head toward the shower playfully. “You look awful. Don’t suppose you want to get in there with me?”

Fiearius cracked a lopsided smirk. “Well, if you insist.”

When they emerged a half-hour later, Leta felt better — decidedly better. Lighter. She even snorted a laugh when Fiearius shook his hand in his hair and sent water spraying all over the bathroom like a wet dog.

But still, when she was wrapping a towel around her middle, she couldn’t help but ask suddenly, “We can trust Quin, right? With helping us?”

“Quin?” Fiearius repeated. “Yeah, of course.” He vigorously rubbed a towel over his head, making his hair stick up at all angles.

“She just seems so … bloodthirsty. I want revenge, Fiearius, but I won’t hurt innocent people.”

“I know that.” He threw the towel to the floor and shrugged. “She’s a little excitable, but not bloodthirsty. More…power-hungry. But she’ll listen. Those agents will get home safely.”

“They better.” Leta frowned. “You two have known each other for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Few years, yeah. I was stuck working with a bunch of Archetian shitheads at the time, which was getting me nowhere, so I forced a job out of her instead.”

“Forced?”

“Well, she refused to see me the first nine times I dropped by looking for work.” He grinned proudly. “So the tenth time, I busted into her most secure warehouse, neutralized half her staff, stole the most valuable crate in the whole place and then brought it back to her the next day.”

“And that worked?”

“Not exactly. Her second, Aeneas, tied me to a chair and very nearly killed me, but it did get her attention. And her respect. We came up with a pretty good deal and she’s been my most reliable associate ever since. Best work, consistent pay, good trust. We like working together.”

“And sleeping together,” Leta prompted. Fiearius stared at her, stunned, and Leta went on quickly, “Right? The first time I visited Archeti on the Dionysian, you told Cyrus you were sleeping with her.”

Fiearius’ expression shifted with alarm. “Leta, I haven’t — ” He took a step closer. “Yeah, okay, we used to, but not since–” He gestured between the two of them. “Us. Is that what this is about? Because I haven’t. You seriously think I’d–”

“No. No, I don’t think that. Not really. I’m not accusing you of still sleeping with her.” She took a deep breath, shaking her head. “But something’s going on with you, Fiear. The last few months or so. You’re acting differently.”

Fiearius tilted his head at her. “Differently how? I mean, yeah, I haven’t been feeling that great lately, ‘cause of the cold and all, but–”

“It’s not just that. You’ve barely been sleeping. You’re completely distracted. Something’s been going on with you.”

He regarded her with interest, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not to feel amused. “So you thought I was being unfaithful?”

“No, not exactly.” She paused, and in a worried rush, she said, “But I can read you and you’re hiding something from me so please just tell me what it is.”

Fiearius opened his mouth. She thought he would deny it, but then, to her surprise, he closed his mouth tightly again. The mirth faded from his hazel eyes as he searched her over, and for one moment Leta thought he was about to make a confession.

But then he couldn’t. On the other side of the bathroom door, the console began to beep loudly, and it kept on beeping without pause.

Leta cast Fiearius a look of distress. “That’s Corra, she always calls after we finish raids. Just one second,” she said, hurrying to tighten the towel around her chest. “It’s a video-call, so put some clothes on, would you?” she added over her shoulder.

Fiearius grunted, but reluctantly wrapped a towel around his waist as Leta sat down at the console and without glancing at the screen, accepted the call.

“Corra, hi, sorry, can I — “

But it wasn’t Corra staring back at her on the screen. It was Ren. There was no denying those crooked glasses, soft kind eyes, angular jaw, and now, the look of absolute horror on his face.

“Is this — er– a bad time?” he muttered uneasily, and Leta realized how this looked: half-dressed, with sopping wet hair and a shirtless Fiearius standing behind her. With his bed and shower in full view. Leta actually closed her eyes in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, Ren.” She gritted her teeth, feeling her face burn red. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else calling. Is everything alright?”

“I’ll make it quick,” he promised. Then he spared Fiearius a quick, searching look, and Leta realized this moment — this horrible moment — was the first time he and Fiearius had ever truly met.

For a moment, stiff silence enveloped the room. Then Ren said, “Well, hey there, captain. You, er, look a little different than in the posters.”

“Posters?” said Leta and Fiearius together.

“Oh, you haven’t seen them?” Ren looked bitterly amused. “Ah. Well, they’re the Society’s new preferred form of propaganda. All over the span — photo of your likeness, with the words ‘Beware the Rogue Verdant.”

Fiearius lifted his brow mildly. “Huh. Posters. That’s new.”

“Anyway — I wanted to ask.” He looked back to Leta. “Have you heard anything from Vescent recently? Are you in contact with anyone there?”

Leta shook her head. “Only Daelen, but he fled months ago. So no. I’m not. I’d be putting people there in danger.”

Ren pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, at this point, they may be in more danger than you.”

Leta slid a glance toward Fiearius. “What do you mean?”

“Something strange is happening on Vescent,” said Ren. “I can’t exactly say what, but–it’s odd. After you destroyed Blackwater, the Society’s been sending out agents from all over to fight the Carthians, Vescent included. And the fleet coming out of Vescent is–different. Their strategic behavior doesn’t match anything the rest of the fleets are doing and the prisoners Carthis has taken? They’re just off.

“Off how?”

“The agents off Vescent … their behavior is erratic. And it’s difficult to explain and we’ve no idea why. That’s the worse part. All of the people Carthis has planted in the city have dropped out of contact all of a sudden. You remember my friends from university? They’ve been keeping me updated on the state of things since I got out, but now? Nothing.” Ren furrowed his brow. “No response from any of them.”

Leta pressed her mouth to her hands. “I hope they’re okay.”

“Me too. Anyway, I’m sorry to have bothered you. I was just hoping maybe someone had some information. I’m getting worried. We all knew the Society was growing there, but I think something bigger than even we imagined has happened.”

“I suppose being on the same ship is kind of awkward. But what about your brother and Leta? They make it work, clearly.”

“True, but Leta’s not a captain. If something happened between them, she would probably just leave, as unfortunate as that is, and the awkwardness would pass,” Cyrus pointed out. “But if something happens between both your captains? Then what?”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t seem that bad of an — “

“Awkwardness, Addy,” Cyrus interrupted, his voice menacing. “Think of the awkwardness.”

Addy laughed. “You’d know about that, wouldn’t you?”

“Hey…”

“Oh, I’m kidding.”

“No you’re not,” Cyrus grumbled and then went on, “I don’t know, as long as they’re happy I guess. Just shipboard romances can be weird I think.”

“That’s true.” Addy paused, and then said, “Maybe it’s better to be in a romance on different ships?” in a sly voice that made Cyrus go suddenly red.

“You think so?” he said, flustered. “So is that what–” But before he could finish, a much less welcome voice cut in over the speakers.

“Cy, we’re closing in on the bridge, what’s it looking like?” said Fiearius, his voice crackling through the static.

“–this is?” Cyrus finished lamely, swinging his feet off the console and looking down at the monitor, confused.

“What is?” Fiearius said impatiently.

“Hey is everything o–” Addy began.

“Wait, you’re seriously on the COMM with your girlfriend right now? In the middle of a raid?”

At this point, Cyrus was certainly as red as he was capable of being. “N-no, I–”

“Not as if we have more important things to do or anything,” Fiearius went on.

Cyrus dragged his hand down his face. “Addy, I’ll call you back later.” He hung up the call and added to Fiearius, “You are such an ass.”

“And you are such a bad lookout,” Fiearius countered. “Status report, let’s go.”

Cyrus heaved a troubled sigh. “Alright. There’s only one red dot in the bridge. It’s all yours.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“Relax,” Leta hissed, giving the rope a tough tug. “Don’t move.”

The ship’s captain did as she was told: wide-eyed and fearful, the woman sat trembling against the wall of the bridge as Leta tied her wrists to the pipe above her head.

“Please — ” the captain breathed, “don’t hurt the crew — “

She was so petrified that Leta felt the fleeting impulse to set her free. But the sight of the librera stitched into her jacket stiffened her resolve.

“We won’t,” Leta muttered sharply. “We’re just taking the ship. Now hold still.”

The woman flinched when Leta pulled her long knife out from her hip, but it was only to quickly slice off the rope. It was the same knife she’d stolen from Ophelia, the knife she’d used to stab her in the leg and save her own life. Now, Leta always kept the blade close by, like a talisman. “Guess this is yours now, eh?” Fiearius had said a few nights ago when he’d found it lying on his nightstand in his room. And Leta decided he was right.

Still, she didn’t plan to use it for violence. Holding the knife in her teeth, she quickly tied off the knot then got to her feet and stood back, satisfied.

Behind her, Fiearius was at the helm of the ship, speaking into the communications console to its sister ships. Leta turned around just as Fiearius grunted, “Quin, we’re not dumping them on Eyyam.”

“Why not?” said Quin’s disbelieving voice over the speaker. “You don’t want me shootin’ ‘em, what’s wrong with just leavin’ ‘em someplace? It’s a nice little moon, it’s close by–”

“It’s a barren desert with no civilization save a few remote tribes of junkies,” Fiearius groaned. “It’d be more humane to shoot them at that point.”

“Well then,” Quin concluded simply.

Fiearius rolled his eyes. “We’ll take them back to Archeti, put them on a passenger ship and send them home, simple as that.”

Silence filled the line for a moment before she replied, “You’re damn lucky I like you, sweetheart, that’s all I gotta say.”

“I count my blessings every day,” Fiearius muttered, exchanging a dull look with Leta. Before they could leave, another voice broke out from the third ship over the COMM.

“Soliveré! Did you–have ya seen this ship?! This–I’ve never seen anythin’ like it, it’s–geezus is that a–holy lord above–”

Fiearius threw a hand to his forehead, impatient. “Everything alright, Rax?”

Rax was an arms trader from a backwater planet on the very edge of Synechdan. He wasn’t the brightest ally to have, but he’d cornered the market in a very needy area and he had the manpower to back it up. Plus, when Fiearius had asked if he was interested in joining their raiding party against the Society of all people, he was one of the few who hadn’t laughed in his face.

“Alright?! “ Rax repeated. “God, Soliveré, this is–Have I thanked you for bringing me in on this?”

“You have, Rax,” Fiearius assured him.

“Well I’m doin’ it again, I — “

“Let’s all meet at the rendezvous point in an hour. See you then.” And just as Rax went to answer, Fiearius hit ‘disconnect.’

Just then, Eve came pounding into the room, her rifle angled over her shoulder in a proud march. “We did it, cap’n! Whole ship is ours!”

“Sure is,” said Fiearius, “now let’s get the hell out of here.”

Fiearius crossed toward the door, but not without throwing his forearm in front of his mouth and hacking a terrible cough.

Eve’s face flickered with concern. “You alright, cap’n? You don’t look so hot, you’re all pale and gross-lookin’ — “

“Thanks,” Fiearius muttered dismissively, but Leta lingered in the doorway, blocking him from leaving.

“You’re still feeling ill?” she said in disbelief, searching him over.

“I’m fine. It’s just a cold.”

“Colds usually last a week. You’ve been getting this on and off for over a month.”

“Well it’s a particularly bad cold,” he said, squinting his eyes as he held off another cough. He veered around her into the hallway, but Leta followed on his heels.

“Please just let me do some tests when we get back to the ship,” she pleaded. “Just to see if it’s a virus or — “

Fiearius cast her a dark look. “Thought you decided you weren’t my doctor anymore,” he pointed out. “It’s unethical or something, right?”

“Fiear, let me — “

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, relax,” he said and coughed again just as he was adding, “I’m fine. It’ll pass.”

“She could be right, Fiearius,” put in Dez suddenly from across the hallway. “It seems to be getting worse again. Perhaps you should take something for it.”

Fiearius glared at him and then said, “Dez, fly the ship to the rendezvous. Harper, keep an eye on our guests.” He gestured to the captain and the other Society agents locked on the lower deck. To Leta, he said, “Stop worrying about me. I promise you. I’ll be fine.”

– – – – – –

Hours later, after they’d all successfully returned to the Dionysian, the crew began to riotously celebrate. They’d gained another victory against the Society, after all, so laughter, music and the clanking of liquor bottles filled the crew lounge in a happy din.

But Leta didn’t feel like celebrating. Something — and she wasn’t sure what — was  quietly nagging at her. So she’d finished only half a bottle of beer before retreating up to Fiearius’ bedroom and closing the bathroom door behind her to take a hot shower.

The water was on, making clouds of steam fill the room, when there was a low knock on the door. Leta was wrapped only in a towel, but she knew it was Fiearius and was unsurprised when he slipped his lanky frame inside, gently closing the door behind him.