“One hundred kilometers away,” Finn shouted over his shoulder at Cyrus. “Ninety. It’s comin’ in fast, Cy.”

“I know! Just keep giving me its location!” Cyrus snapped as he dug through a mess of wires in the darkness — all the overhead lights had shut off, plunging them into shadow. The life support still hummed quietly, but the alarms had all gone silent. The room had filled with nothing but nervous anticipation and Cyrus’ own heart racing as fast as it ever had. And occasionally, the sound of Finn’s voice.

“Eighty,” he read off, jerking his knee up and down in anxiety. “It’s the Imperium. Heading up our starboard side.”

“Shit,” Cyrus growled and added quietly, “Well at least they’re not firing anymore…”

“Yeah, because we’re not moving!” Finn pointed out. “Sixty,” he read as Cyrus fumbled with a connector. “Cy, it’s closing in. What the hell are ya doing? We’re sitting ducks.”

“Just one more minute,” Cyrus grunted, ripping one of the wires out of the panel and tossing it over his shoulder.

Finn watched the trajectory of the wire in mild horror. “Are ya sure we don’t need that?”

“Location!” Cyrus growled again.

“Thirty,” Finn answered obediently.  “One shot at this range? We’re gone. I don’t know what you’re planning, but — ”

“Just tell me where it is.”

“–we don’t have a lot of time–”

“Where is it?”

Finn didn’t respond. The whole bridge went quiet. So Cyrus asked again, “Where is it?!”

“Take a look.”

Frustrated and panicked as he was, Cyrus spared one glance toward his pilot and then froze in horror. Just outside the bay window was the shimmering black mass of a ship, a silver librera emblazoned across its bow. It seemed to be staring straight at them, entirely still, just waiting for them to make their move.

“Not to rush ya or anything but…” Finn prompted quietly, but Cyrus was stunned in place. What the hell was it doing? If the ship was hailing them, they’d never know with the COMM line disconnected. But he got the strangest feeling it had no interest in contacting them. He got the sensation that it was sizing them up. Just watching to see what they’d do.

And then suddenly it wasn’t. Two weapons ports opened up on either side and started to beam with light as they loaded up.

“Never mind, now I’m rushing you!” Finn yelped, shaking the controls desperately to no response. “Cyrus!”

Cyrus didn’t bother to respond. He practically fell back into the electrical panel and went straight for the piloting controls, jamming the wire back into its place. It wasn’t quite ready, but–

“Go! Now!” he shouted as the screens beneath Finn’s fingers switched back on.

“Fucking finally!” he yelled, shoving the ship forward just as those lights came barreling towards them.

The black ship disappeared out of view above them as the Beacon shot downward away from it, faster and faster. The inside of the cabin started to shake violently, the clatter almost deafening.

“They’re locking on again!” Finn warned.

“Just keep hitting the main thrust!” Cyrus shouted over the racket, stumbling over to the nav console and tumbling into the seat where he splayed himself out in relief. “We’ll be out of range soon.”

“Out of range?” Finn repeated incredulously, “How fast are we–” His eyes dropped briefly to the screen beside him. “Holy shit. Two hundred kilometers. Two fifty. Three?! How did you–”

“Well I siphoned all the ship’s power into the engine’s backup generator to overload the –” Cyrus started to explain, but Finn cut him off.

“Never mind, I don’t care,” he sighed in exhaustion, leaning back in his seat. “Just glad it worked. Y’know, Cy,” he mused, “you could give Fiear a real run for his money.”

“If he ever gets back on his feet, I’ll be sure to tell him you said so,” he grumbled as he tiredly swiped his hand across the nav console before him. “For now, let’s just get to Carthis.”

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

Snowflakes drifted slowly from the night sky, like falling ashes. Leta stood on the frozen ground beside the Beacon’s ramp, letting the frigid breeze pass through her limbs. The cold almost felt good — refreshing — after ten hours of urgent travel. But they’d made it: the Society ships had not followed them here.

“So this is Carthis,” said Ren at her side, breaking the stony silence. His breath turned cloudy in the air. Leta could feel his eyes on her. “And this is — what? Goodbye then?”

“Something like that,” Leta muttered. Her voice was hoarse and scratchy. “For a little while.”

Below the docks, a mile into the city and through the Carthian gates, were the rehabilitation facilities. Corra and Finn would take him there without her.

“I’d come with you,” she reminded quietly, “if I could.”

“I know.” Somehow, Ren almost smiled. “I know you would. But it’s better if you don’t.”

A heavy laugh escaped her lips. “Better for who?”

“Both of us. I need to get well, or so you keep telling me. But especially — especially for you. You’ve got a life put together now, one that doesn’t involve hunting me down. So I won’t take your time from you anymore. And I — if you’re at peace with all this,  then — “

“It’s over, isn’t it?” Leta knotted her scarf between her hands, then released it. “This? Us.”

He went quiet for several seconds, which Leta had to interpret as a yes.

Surprisingly, she did not feel loss plunge through her, nor grief. What she felt was tired — like she could lay down on the ground and sleep right there.

“I wish,” he murmured, “that I could make things right between us.” He took a step closer in the snow and grasped her wrist. “Because you did — you saved my life. You saved my life and I don’t know how to repay you.”

Leta could think of nothing to say. Exhaustion was tugging at her eyes.

“Just get better,” she managed at last, looking up. “Alright? Get better, so we can at least see one another.”

Behind her, she heard dueling footsteps: Finn and Corra were coming down the ramp, both of them ready to leave with Ren. Corra leaned in and whispered, “You okay, chika?” as she walked past.

“I think so,” Leta heard herself reply, as if the words were not her own, but she knew them to be true somehow. “I think I am, actually.”

“It’s a short walk,” said Finn, turning his wrist over and glancing at his watch. “Shouldn’t be long, and we’ll let you know when we get there, alright?”

Ren squeezed her hand for several more seconds, then locked his gaze with hers and nodded as he walked backwards a few step. Leta’s eyes were dry as she watched him turn and fall into step with Corra and Finn, disappearing down the path, out of view.

Leta darted down the stairs of the Dionysian. Overhead, deckhands pounded the floor, running around frantically in preparation for take-off, but she went straight to her quarters, stricken with worry at what was next.

Inside, Ren was pacing the floor.

“What’ve you been doing?” she demanded at once, breathless and angry as she flew into the room. “You didn’t do anything else did you?”

“What do you mean?” He crossed his arms and tilted his head. This was the expression he wore when, in their old life, they got into debates: he would try to run over her emotions with logic.

“Leta,” he went on calmly, almost scolding her, “I was helping — “

Leta could not keep her voice down. “By contacting the people who want us dead?!”

With a growl in her throat, she turned on her heel and marched back into the hallway, hardly able to look at him any longer. It wasn’t his fault he was unwell, she knew that, but the sight of his mildly puzzled, concerned expression — like she was a misbehaving child — was infuriating.

She started down the hallway and he followed behind, spouting questions in an impatient voice.

“Where are we going?” he asked. “Tell me, where — “

Leta was actually going to the infirmary to check on Fiearius, but Ren didn’t need to know that. “We’re going to get you help,” she said. “The ship’s taking off right now, we’re leaving to get you help.”

“Help? I don’t need help!” He stepped forward and grasped her wrist. “Leta, you just need to listen to me. For once. You need to trust me.”

“Trust you?” Leta repeated, slowing to a halt. “How can I? After what they did to you? After all this time?”

“Leta, I’m the same as I’ve always been.” He laughed sadly, once. “It’s you. I hardly know you.”

In the dim light of the hallway, Leta searched over his face in disbelief, hardly able to grasp his words. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what he even meant.

Quickly, she stepped back and withdrew her arm and steered herself toward the staircase.

Ren started to yell her name, but he was drowned out: suddenly, the metal walls shook violently, the floor slanted sideways and terrified yells filled the ship.

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

“I guess they weren’t bluffing!” shouted Finn over the blaring alarms. Bright red emergency lights flooded the room and the whole cabin was shaking. The black of space was flying past the window.

“So, just how bad are we?” Finn called to Corra who stood shakily over the stats console, her eyes wide.

“What?!” Corra cried, baffled by the flashing screen before her eyes. “I don’t know how to–what does this–?!”

At once, Cyrus was at her side, grasping onto the edge of the console for dear life and peering down at the flashing diagram. “Minor hull breach on Deck G!” he shouted out, scanning through the diagnostics screens. “Just auxiliary controls. We’re okay!”

“For now,” Finn told him. “They’re readying another shot.”

“Can you scatter their lock-on?”

“Tryin’!” Finn jerked the controls sideways.

As the ship began to shudder louder and Cyrus could feel the sway from Finn’s erratic maneuvers, he turned to Corra who looked both terrified and desperate to act. Cyrus was more than happy to provide her a solution. “Get down to the lower decks. Check on the crew. Get everyone onto the Dionysian and seal her off. Just in case.”

She gave a quick nod and fled from the room. She had only been gone a second when suddenly the ship shook violently again. Finn cursed from the pilot’s seat, but Cyrus’ eyes went straight to the diagnostics. “Just a scratch!” he called. “No breach. Keep it up.”

Finn let out a rather tortured laugh. “Oh-ho, you say that like it’s easy.”

Cyrus responded with a tired smirk of his own, but this was no time for laughing. He glanced down at the radar. All three ships were closing in. The Beacon was fast, but if they kept taking damage, she wouldn’t be fast for long.

The ship shuddered again as a burst of white light flew past the bay window and kept flying out into the endless black before them.

“Little close for comfort!” Finn called, his voice straining with hysteria. “Say, you don’t have any genius ideas on how we’re gettin’ outta this do ya? Sure would be nice right about now…”

Cyrus paced the floor. He knew about this ship. It was an older model than those he’d worked on, sure, but he’d studied vessels just like this. He knew this ship. He knew he could solve this. He had to.

“Weapons!” he said at once, pulling his hands from his hair. “She’s gotta have some weapons on her. We can fire back.”

Finn released one hand on the controls for but a moment to tap a command onto a nearby console. “We surely can’t. Weapons, Deck G…” he grumbled and then let out a yelp, seizing the controls once more as another blast narrowly missed contact.

Growling at himself, Cyrus dug his hand frustratedly in his hair. “Can we pull a slingshot? To lose them?”

“A full turnaround?! In a beast this size?” Finn laughed again, loud and humorless. “Cy, come on — “

“No, no, no,” Cyrus snapped at himself, ramming his palm into his temple. He could do this. He could figure this out. It was right on the edge of his vision, he just needed to hurry up.

The ship made a sudden lurch and the alarms overhead got louder.

“Cyrus!” Finn shouted.

Maybe it was the jolt or the panic or perhaps just desperation setting in, but suddenly it clicked.

“I’ve got it!” he cried, darting towards an electrical panel at the side of the bridge. “She’s got a 8000B series core,” he explained as he ripped open the panel. It was a mess of colors, barely organized into their respective categories. Whoever had been in here last had left it in disarray. But disarray was something Cyrus was more than familiar with. He started digging through them. “They’re perfect for manual re-routing. I built the Antigua off an 8000B base.” Unceremoniously, he ripped a wire from its socket.

“No offense, Cy,” Finn called through gritted teeth, “But right now I really don’t ca–Uh…we’re slowing down!”

“I know,” Cyrus called back, disconnecting another set of wires.

The pilot consoles in front of Finn shut down instantly. “Uh…Cyrus–” he began.

“I know!” he said again, snipping one last set before glancing over his shoulder. “Just hang on. And get ready.”

– – – – – – – – – – – –

“Look, we don’t have time for this, okay?” Leta growled through gritted teeth as she stormed up the stairs, Ren on her heels. She had to make sure Fiearius was alright and then she had to head to the bridge, but Ren was proving himself sharper and more forceful than he had in a month. It was a shame he’d picked this moment to truly come alive and argue with her; she would have welcomed the liveliness otherwise.

But instead —

“How about you talk with me, Leta?” he called after her, yelling over the noise of the trembling ship — it hadn’t stopped shaking since the first hit. “Okay? Talk with me instead of, say, Fiearius, for once — “

At that, Leta spun around. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she cried, but then, her voice faltered weakly: perhaps she didn’t want to know what he meant by that, either. Her expression fell toward despair and she turned forward again, but Ren was far from done.

“You won’t tell me a damn thing about what’s going on, but you sure seem fine talking to everyone else on this ship. How about you clue me in? Instead of treating me like a mental patient.”

Leta couldn’t help the words that flew through her mind: but that’s what you are.

Finally clapping a hand over her eyes, she stopped in place. “What, Ren?” she breathed. “What do you want?”

He halted, studying her face harshly through the shadowy darkness and noise. “I want to know,” he muttered, “what’s happened to you. You keep saying I’m different. But you — “

“What do you mean?” asked Leta sharply. “What, just because I don’t buy the Society bullshit now?”

“No. Not that.” He shook his head, looking pained as he steadied his voice, eerily calm. “Leta. Look at yourself. You live on a ship that earns livelihood from stealing from the poor. You let all your friends on Vescent think you were killed or dead. You keep guns under your bed — ” He exhaled sharply, “ — and I know you’ve — gods, I don’t want it to be true, but I know you must’ve killed — “

He broke off, shaking his head. “I never asked you to do this for me. Any of it. I’d never want you to kill for me. Gods, when I heard you were on a pirate ship, I worried about you being hurt. I never worried you’d become one of them.” Pity filled his eyes. And he wasn’t finished. “And that captain,” he said softly, “that you seem to admire so much, that you risked your own life for, can’t you see that he’s a cold-blooded m — “

“Enough!” Leta gasped, pressing her palms into her eyes. It felt like she was being assaulted on all fronts. “Enough, Ren!”

The hallway went quiet, save for the rattling of metal pipes overhead.

“See? You’ve changed,” said Ren quietly, accusation sharp in his voice, “and you can’t even see it.”

Leta pulled her hands away from her face, anger boiling beneath her skin.

“I spent the last year,” she breathed, “doing what I needed to do to survive. That means I made a lot of difficult choices. Alright?”

“It’s not alright.” Ren looked positively startled, as if the sight of her alone alarmed him. “I don’t know who you are anymore. And I don’t like who you’ve become.”

The words went through her like a knife. But then her defenses rose.

“Well this is who I am now,” Leta snapped, “like it or not, so maybe we’re just wasting our time, thinking this can still work between us.”

Ren lifted his eyebrows, as if he hadn’t considered the idea until now, but found it mildly interesting.

“I think maybe we are.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Before Cyrus could think of an answer — what could he possibly say? — a voice overhead stole their attention.

“Heya, Corra and interim-cap’n.”

It was Finn, on the catwalk above, leaning his arms on the railing. “Quick question,” he said casually, in a voice that indicated he had no idea he’d interrupted a serious conversation. Brightly, he asked, “How close are we to raising enough to get off this dump of a planet?”

Cyrus rolled his eyes and went back to organizing his tools. “Well, I’m about to go offer discount engine tune-ups to the other docked ships. If that gives you any idea…”

Finn looked amused. “So we’re in pretty bad shape then eh.”

“Even if could leave, I’m not sure where we’d go,” Cyrus went on, more to himself than anyone else as he distractedly dropped another wrench in the box. “Not unless Fiearius suddenly gets any bright ideas … “

“Hey, it could happen,” Corra put in, forcing cheer into her voice.

“She’s right,” Finn remarked as he started down the staircase, dragging his hand down the railing. “Any minute now, I bet, he’s gonna start shouting orders out to the lot of us.”

Cyrus glanced toward the open ramp door. He wasn’t sure he could stomach another conversation about Fiearius. “Yeah if he ever remembers how to open his mouth, sure,” he muttered, turning for the ramp — but it was then that Leta’s voice broke him from his thoughts.

“He already did.”

All eyes in the room turned to the other door just as Leta stepped through it, looking her usual pale, tired self — but with more energy in her step. A tentative smile passed her lips, and her eyes were brighter. Something, it seemed, had happened.

“I just talked to Fiearius,” she clarified.

Cyrus’ jaw slackened in shock. “He spoke? How’d you do it?”

“Of course it’d be the pretty doctor who got him to talk,” Finn scoffed. “Fiear is so predictable.”

Leta glanced at Finn but chose to ignore the comment. “He’s even starting to sound like himself again, here and there. He’s getting there. He made real progress today. I’m — well, I’m hopeful.”

It was as if everyone exhaled in relief, all at once. Corra beamed and clapped her hands to her face. Cyrus, for one, could barely speak.

For the last month, it was as if Fiearius had never left that cell on Satieri. He was so vacant, so absent, that Cyrus was trying to familiarize himself with the fact that might never get his brother back.

So to hear from his own physician’s mouth that there was finally, at long last, a change, that things could get back to normal, that there was an end in sight? It was more than Cyrus could hardly believe.

“Well,” said Finn suddenly, “that makes this a whole lot easier then. ‘Cause earlier today I got news from Carthis.”

At once, Leta’s eyes lit up. “You did?” she asked, going so quickly towards him that he took a step back in alarm. “What’d they say about Ren? Will they help him?”

In all the commotion, Cyrus had nearly forgotten that Finn was contacting his old friends in the military. To be certain, the Carthian forces were enemies of their enemies — but how charitable were they, really?

“I have good news and I have bad news,” Finn went on, a lopsided smirk on his face. “The good news is that they’re willing to help.” Apparently unable to stop herself, Leta stepped towards him again, her eyes widening. Corra too took in a pleasant gasp.

Cyrus, however, was skeptical. “And the bad?”

“The bad,” said Finn, “is that they want nothing to do with the Dionysian.”

Leta flared up at once.  “What?! They won’t help the Dionysian, or they won’t help Ren? Then how — “

Finn held up a hand. “Hang on a second, doc. Carthis ain’t no friend to the Society, hell, they’ve been fightin’ since they seceded centuries back, but that don’t mean they wanna give ‘em reason to start an all-out war.” He tilted his head at Leta. “Takin’ in high profile fugitives? Needless to say, Carthis ain’t willing to risk it…”

“So what can we do?” Corra asked.

But it was Cyrus who answered. “Don’t send the fugitives.”

Finn smirked and pointed at him. “My thoughts exactly. You all stay here. I’m not popular with Carthis but I’m no fugitive. I can just take Ren to Carthis on the Beacon and get him the help he needs. In the meantime, keep the Dionysian here ‘til fugitive number one,” he jabbed his thumb in the direction of the infirmary, “can get back on his feet.”

“So you’ll — you’ll go with Ren?” said Leta tentatively, as if trying this idea on for size. She looked tremendously uneasy. “Finn, that’s incredibly generous of you, but I don’t know if I can just give Ren over to another institution I don’t even know if I can trust.”

“I’ll go too,” Corra said suddenly, reaching out and taking Leta’s hand. “The Society doesn’t want me. Carthis won’t care if I’m there. I’ll go and I’ll keep an eye on him and make sure everything’s okay.”

Leta squeezed Corra’s hand. At long last, she nodded.

“Alright,” Cyrus said at last, slamming the toolbox shut and heaving it off the crate. “Finn and Corra take Ren to Carthis. The rest of us,” he glanced as Leta with a grimace, “Keep doing what we’re doing I guess.” Taking a deep breath, he nodded slowly. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Then we can ready the Beacon to leave.”

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

After the conversation broke up, Leta headed down the hallway toward her room, her mind buzzing. She couldn’t really send Ren to Carthis, could she? Without her? But then again, that might have been the only way he’d ever get the treatment he needed …

Steeped in worry, Leta eased open the hatch to her room and slipped inside, unsurprised to find Ren sitting on her bed, flipping through yet another book. In between meals in the mess hall, he always stayed here. It was odd: the Ren she remembered from home was social, lively, much more extroverted. The Ren she remembered would have been in the crew lounge, laughing, talking, making friends with everyone aboard.

But this version of Ren simply looked up at her blankly.

“Hey,” she sighed, stopping in place, “I need to talk to you about som — “

But before she could finish, Ren did something he hadn’t done once since Vescent: he pushed himself up to his feet, letting the book fall from his lap. Then he took a step forward, and then another step forward, and lifted his arms to hug her waist gently.

At first, as his arms went around her, Leta was too startled to move: this was the most physical they’d been since he was kidnapped. Her heart raced with anticipation and worry, until at last she softened against him, her arms wrapping around his back, her mouth against his shoulder. They fit just as well as she remembered.

Except Ren, she noticed, was tense. He stood stiff as a board. Still, he hadn’t spoken.

“You okay?” she said quietly in his ear, pulling back to look at him. His eyes shifted worriedly over her face.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” He stepped back fully, his eyes widening. “Leta, I did something that will make you upset. But I had to. I had to do it. Okay?”

He began to pace the small space of her room, knotting a hand in his hair.

“You had to do what, Ren?” Leta pressed. “What happened?”

“I — you have to understand,” he pleaded. He grasped her hands a moment, then dropped them quickly. “You have to understand why I did it. Okay?”

He dropped onto the edge of the bed in defeat. Perplexed, Leta shook her head and lowered to sit beside him. “What did you do?”

“I contacted them,” he confessed, his voice heavy with regret. “I didn’t mean to, but I had to. I felt like I had to, like it was my job. I — I contacted the Society. I told them where we are.”