At last, Javier realized he’d overheard quite enough of this. This was very personal. He’d always hated when his little sister had spied on him and his friends back at home, and now he realized he was doing practically the same thing.

Quietly as he could, Javier backed away from the door and crept back down the hallway, feeling unsettled. He wasn’t as close to Corra as a few people aboard, like Cyrus and Leta and Niki, but still, she had a lively spirit about her. Everyone liked her — a fact he both admired and felt envious of.

Distractedly, Javier returned to his task. He was going to find Niki. Perhaps he was on the observation deck again? That was where they had spent the previous night. Niki had snuck food from the pantry and set up a whole picnic for them for no reason at all, except, apparently, because they were such good friends. Although Niki had also said the view of the stars was “very romantic,” which didn’t seem right, exactly, for two friends. Javier had obliged only with a nervous laugh.

Javier was just considering that confusing moment (he was trying to forget it, actually), when he suddenly froze again — this time, it was out of sudden alarm.

Around the corner, he could hear Fiearius talking low and harsh. And someone else barking back at him. Ludo? Was that Ludo? He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the gunhand actually speak before. Generally, Ludo took his meals alone in his room, followed Fiearius out the door when he was ordered to and didn’t bother anyone, as far as Javier knew, although a few of the few female deckhands had remarked that he was creepy. He was practically mute.

Apparently, he actually had much to say. His voice was low, rough and steady. Javier had never heard anyone speak like this to the captain.

” — been four months and still haven’t seen a single fucking credit to my name,” the man was gritting out. Javier had the sense he was holding back roiling anger with difficulty. “Do I work for you or not?”

Fiearius shot back, his voice venomous, “Look, if I had any credits to give you, I fucking would, believe me.”

“And why aren’t we making any? This is supposed to be a business, captain,” Ludo growled, “and instead of making money,  we’re stopping on Dune for — goddamn parties — ”

Fiearius laughed once, sharp and humorless. “A damn party and a lead on a smuggling job out on the edge,” he spat impatiently. “I’m not a fucking idiot, Ludo. I’ve got this, okay? You’ll get your damn paycheck.”

“I’ve been on this ship a year and a half. A year and a half doing everything you ask! And I’ve never gone this long without going on a job. You’re bringing doctors with you now!”

Javier peeked around the corner just in time to see Fiearius roll his eyes, “Yeah, well it made sense at the time. And I’ve already paid for the mistake enough, thanks, so I don’t fucking need to hear it from y — “

Then Fiearius raised his hands, as if forcing himself to calm, and said more slowly, “Look, I appreciate you’ve been aboard that long. And I appreciate all the help you’ve given over that time. But since you’ve been here that long, you should know by now what this business is like. We’re in a dry spell. It happens. Just enjoy the vacation while it lasts ‘cause I’m sure there’ll be plenty of shooting to be done soon enough.”

“Will there? Will there, Fiearius?” Ludo demanded. “And yet — “ His voice was lighter, taunting. “In the meantime, you’re just sitting on a bounty right now. Waiting to be cashed in.”

There was a very heavy, pointed pause. Javier had no idea what he was talking about, but Fiearius clearly did.

“I don’t think you wanna suggest what you’re suggesting,” he said coldly.

“That girl’s got a reward on her big enough to pay our wages for months!” Ludo suddenly roared. “And that reward is dead or alive. Give the doctor back to the Society already. We don’t need her. We don’t need a doctor. What we need is fuel. She’s got a bounty on her h — “

“Yeah, and so do I,” Fiearius barked. “Wanna turn me in too? Bet I could find someone who’d pay for you as well. How ‘bout that?” Before Ludo could answer, Fiearius leaned in closer, looking like he wanted nothing more than to smash his head against the wall. “We don’t betray our own.” His voice was threateningly low. “Don’t ever fucking ask for that again.”

Javier waited for this to end. Surely, it was over now. But somehow Ludo wasn’t done. When he spoke again, his voice was full of warning. “We don’t get paid soon,” he challenged, “don’t be so sure that the crew won’t take matters into their own hands.”

Javier wished desperately he hadn’t heard a word of this. He wanted to forget the whole thing. Were they threatening one another? They were definitely threatening one another. Leta sounded like she was in danger, too.

Shakily, Javier stepped backwards on his heel, but then, his hand slipped in exactly the wrong way against his leg. His sketchbook fell to the metal floor with an audible thwap at his feet. Both pairs of eyes shot to him.

At once, Fiearius’ face darkened. “What the fuck are you looking at?” he growled, turning toward him sharply.

“I wasn’t — nothing!” cried Javier at once, hurrying backwards. “I w — ”

“Then why don’t you go the fuck — ”

But suddenly Javier felt a hand reach out and grab his arm from behind as a cheerful voice rang out.

“Oh hi, cap’n!” Nikkolai greeted, a massive grin on his face that made Fiearius falter. “Good to see you!” he went on, obviously scraping to pull conversation out of nowhere. “Isn’t it a beautiful day? Evening. Night? Not that it matters on a spaceship, right?” He blurted an uncomfortable laugh. Fiearius’ glare didn’t lighten. Hopelessly, he added, “We were just leaving,” and before Javier could speak, he was being dragged away by the arm.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Nikkolai said, “You know I’m all for being adventurous, but eavesdropping on the captain? Probably not the best idea. What were you doing?”

“I was looking for you! And I didn’t mean to overhear, it was an accident!” Javier protested, his voice shriller than normal as he checked over his shoulder to be sure Fiearius wasn’t chasing them down.

His mind reeling over what he’d just witnessed, Javier was still short of breath when they made it to stairs and he said shakily, “But you wouldn’t believe what I just heard … ”

“ — mean it, Cy,” Leta was saying in an undertone, “just ask her out. Next place we land safely. See what happens.”

“I can’t ask her out,” he groaned. “Not again. I tried taking her out once. It was awkward and I could tell she didn’t want to be there. I’m not putting either of us through that again.”

“But that was awhile ago now, wasn’t it?”

“Well yeah,” he admitted, “it was a couple years back…”

“Maybe just — see what happens? The worst that could happen is you stay as close as you are right now … ”

“Or she gets freaked out and stops talking to me altogether,” Cyrus mumbled skeptically. “Which, by the way, is essentially what happened last time. It’s only really been the last few months that we’ve gotten close again. I don’t wanna wreck that…”

“She obviously cares about you and you’re good friends. You owe it to yourself to have a conversation with her about how you feel, at least.”

Javier glanced over his shoulder and saw Cyrus frown in thought. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “I guess…you could be right. Maybe I’ll give it another try. Maybe. I’ll think about it … “

Unfortunately, it was then that Javier realized he’d sidestepped too closely, stupidly holding one cabinet open to stare at a row of soup bowls. Casually as he could, he glanced to the side.

Both Leta and Cyrus were staring at him expectantly.

“Hi Javier,” said Leta curiously after a moment, smiling slightly. Past her shoulder, Cyrus was simply watching him, one eyebrow high on his forehead. “How are you?”

“Oh, just fine,” said Javier lightly, pretending to survey the soup bowls again with interest. “I’m doing just fine.” After a moment, apparently satisfied by what he’d found, he nodded and slammed the cabinet closed. “Well, see you at dinner,” he added wistfully, drifting casually back toward the door. Never mind that they’d already had dinner an hour ago …

Once his back was turned, Javier grimaced and quickly dodged into the hallway. Subterfuge had never been his strength.

Eager to put distance between himself and the mess hall, Javier hurried downstairs toward the crew deck. Passing down the hallway, he glanced distractedly to the rooms on either side of him, glad to see all the doors were closed. He didn’t need more of an audience, thanks.

He stopped to crack open the hatch to Nikkolai’s room, but he found it empty. Where was he? Perhaps Aiden would know? He always knew what was going on, far more than Javier ever did.

Turning around, Javier raised his fist to knock on the door to Aiden’s room. Aiden, of course, had the best and largest room in this hallway, and deservedly so with the kind of crap he put up with (Javier’s quarters were scarcely larger than a bathroom stall, in comparison). But Aiden needed the large space because he so often held an audience in his room. He was always lending a patient ear to the crew.

Now, it seemed, was one such instance. Javier’s hand paused before the door as he heard two voices behind it.

“It’s not that I don’t like it here even,” said the voice. It was Corra, sounding terribly worried. “Things have actually been really great recently with Leta around and Cy-Cy acting normal again.”

Javier hesitated, then leaned in closer to listen.

“It’s just…I guess I just don’t know what I’m doing,” she went on. “In, you know. the long-term. The Dionysian is great and it’s home and I love it, but…I can’t just stay here forever playing around in the armory, can I? Don’t I need to do something with my life?”

“You don’t feel you’re doing something with your life right now?” asked Aiden, his tone mild.

“Well…I am, I guess,” Corra went on slowly. “But also no. I guess when it comes down to it, I help the people I care about. Which is important. But…”

“But?” prompted Aiden, so low Javier had to lean in closer to hear.

“But I feel like I should be doing something more.” Corra’s voice grew fainter. Javier had never heard Corra — typically so dynamic and loud and friendly — sound so sad. “After what happened on Kadolyne, I guess it hit me. Leaving all those allies behind. It’s not fair. It’s not right that I get to be free because of the whim of some crazy ship captain and yet all of them are just…stuck.”

Aiden was quiet for a moment. “Is it that you wish to help them?”

“I don’t know what I want. Of course, I’d love to help the other allies. I’d give anything for that whole industry to fall apart, but I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon, with or without my help.” She heaved a sigh. “I think I just feel I should be doing something better with my freedom than handing guns to a criminal. I have all this opportunity to go out and be something and do something, opportunity that so many people never get and I just…” A lapse of silence passed before she muttered, “Waste it.”

Leta barely registered the banter of her two companions. Since she’d generated this plan, she could think of little else than how to do it — of how to talk to Casner the right away. She had to engage him, she had to find out about Ren, and she had to do so without revealing who she was. Fiearius hadn’t shown any other interest in the idea, except when he’d seen the three of them departed the Dionysian earlier that evening.

“Surely there must be some mistake, finding these shining beacons of beauty and class exiting my ship,” he’d said to Leta and Corra with a dramatic flourish of his hand, before adding, gesturing to his brother, “And with this.” He’d let out a loud bark of a laugh and strode past them carelessly.

But it didn’t matter what Fiearius thought about their appearance or anything else. Now, it was time to execute. With an inhale of breath, she shifted the bodice of her long purple gown — an item she’d picked up with Corra earlier in the afternoon — fixed the mask on her face, and stepped into the hall.

At once, Leta had to squint her eyes. The hall was larger than a cathedral and every painting and wine glass and woman’s gown glinted in the light. As she stepped down the ornate staircase, Leta drew her long gloves higher up over her forearms, effectively concealing the Society tattoo on her her skin. Though, if there were any place where that mark on her arm would be admired, it would be here. Resisting the urge to glower, Leta kept her lips in a smooth, thin line of indifference as her eyes shifted over the large oval room beneath the mask.

She scanned over the sea of gowns and suits, and suddenly, a problem struck her. By the looks of it, she was the only person unaccompanied, absent a partner to curve her arm around, and as such, she stuck out: she was going to draw attention as a single young woman. It wasn’t a terrible hindrance, but nonetheless, she felt a stab of annoyance at, of all people, Fiearius. He was supposed to be her goddamn date.

Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, Leta stood tall and still, just another wealthy guest at this party. For now. “I’m going to get a drink,” she told them. “Let me know if you see him.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Corra assured her, though her attention had wandered up to a glittering, tremendous chandelier on the ceiling. Still holding her arm, Cyrus provided Leta a weak smile and nodded quickly. Well, at least one of them would probably be paying attention.

Satisfied, Leta drifted toward the opulent, half-moon bar in the corner, its rows of liquor bottles glistening like jewels. She rested her elbow on the shining surface, her eyes behind her mask moving through the room for any signs of Casner. Was he the gracious type, she wondered, who would start greeting guests at the the door? Or was he going to be loud and raucous and command attention from a table?

Her thoughts were interrupted a moment later by a gray-haired gentleman in a fine suit (at least twice her age, Leta noted) who brushed her arm. He bent low to speak in her ear.

“You, my dear, are drawing every eye in this room.”

Sure fucking hope not, thought Leta at once, but she forced a smile all the same. She managed to exchange all the right pleasantries with this man, the traces of her Vescentian accent and demeanor surely helping her cause. At least her until he said, “May I buy you a drink?” and gestured toward the premium liquor.

And with that, Leta couldn’t help herself. “But it’s an open bar,” she said bluntly, snorting, and then regretted it immediately. That was a comment someone from the Dionysian would make, but not an affluent young woman with millions who just loved these sort of events. Luckily, after giving her a curious look, the man seemed to think Leta was being coy and chuckled appreciatively before having a flute of champagne delivered to her.

Leta picked up the glass, sipped it and smiled stiffly. As soon as her back was turned, the smile dropped off her face. If this was how the whole night was going to be, she needed to corner Casner soon.

But he wasn’t near the tables, Leta noted, nor was he on the dance floor — though it was hard to tell once the orchestra struck up a lively tune and more couples joined in. Leta tilted the rest of the champagne into her mouth, furrowing her brow as she regarded two security guards near the wall. She had the sudden sense that Casner was nearby — he must have been, this was his party —

And that was when it happened. Just as she reached to deposit her emptied glass on the bar, there was a strong grip on her upper arm and someone had tugged her away from the bar and steered her decisively toward the dance floor.

Leta was about to yell in protest, but it caught in her throat when she glimpsed the stranger who held her at his side. The man was tall, dressed in formal wear and his face was covered in the most obnoxious orange and red feather bird mask. No one else in the room was wearing an animal mask of that size. But it was his subtle smirk that gave it away.

“What’re you doing here?” she hissed to Fiearius as he pulled her into a dance.

“But you’re not wrong about one thing,” he went on. “Dune’s a good place for business. So if it’ll make you shut up, we’ll head there. Go to your fancy party. I honestly hope it works out for you.” He paused thoughtfully. “It won’t. Since I hate hope so much.” He shot a quick glare at Corra. “But go on and try.”

“So you’re not coming,” said Leta bitingly. “Even though we have more of a chance of finding out anything with you there?”

Fiearius mustered a smirk. “There’s little chance that anyone in that room won’t have noticed the Society’s database of bounties in the last four years…” He grimaced apologetically. “And I’m just a bit recognizable. I’ll pass.” He stood up to his feet, kicking his chair aside on his way toward the door.

“But please, go. I shall live vicariously through you as I get some real work done so you can afford to go dress shopping,” he went on casually. “Oh and good luck getting Cy to go with you,” he added, letting out his bark-like laugh. He left the deck to go set the course, leaving Leta looking shocked, and really quite hurt, at the table.

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

Once Fiearius left, Leta put her face in her hands and allowed herself exactly three minutes of hatred, anger and swear words so vicious that Amora, the cook, gasped in horror as she entered the mess hall. But Leta wasn’t listening to Amora. She had half the mind to stalk after the captain on his own ship and slap him across the face for promising to help her and now acting completely useless.

Finally, with several deep breaths, she shook it off. She didn’t need him now. She had work to do.

So, with Corra on her tail, Leta marched to the command deck where she crawled up the ladder, knocked twice on the metal hatch to Cyrus’ room and called, “You awake in there?” Without waiting for a response, she pushed it open and climbed inside, holding a mug of coffee in one hand. Just as shamelessly, Corra clambered in afterwards.

Leta’s first impression of Cyrus’ room was that it looked less like sleeping quarters and more like a workshop. Blueprints covered the walls, drawings lay in piles, and his desk was covered in textbooks. Leta glanced over the walls curiously before she looked to the figure in the bed, who had just sat upright, alarmed, his hair a mess.

“What the–?” said Cyrus incredulously, his face reddening as he secured a sheet around his middle. With his other hand he fished for his glasses off the nightstand.

“We come bearing coffee and good news,” said Corra cheerfully, plopping onto his bed beside him, as Leta reached to hand him the mug, which he accepted wearily.

“Coffee and news are great,” he muttered, “but what I really would love is some privacy…“

“You’re not too hungover to listen, are you?” said Leta, hardly able to contain herself as she lowered to the edge of Cyrus’ bed. “Because something’s happened. And I wanted to ask y — wait, are you really naked under there?” she demanded suddenly, as she glanced down at the blanket with an irked brow, laughing at the fresh redness in his face. “Whatever, never mind. Listen — I found out the name of the guy who captured Ren. And I’m going to get him to talk to me. He works for the Society and he lives on Dune, and every month he holds these parties in his mansion. And I want to go to the next one. I want to talk to him. I have to talk to him.”

If this was too much information for Cyrus at this early hour, he did not appear to mind. In fact, he frowned thoughtfully. “But how will you not get caught?” he asked after a moment.

“We’ll be in disguise,” Corra put in helpfully, casting him a hopeful grin.

“And you know how to get in?”

“That’s easy,” said Leta at once.

“Identifying the guy?”

“Covered!” chimed Corra.

Cyrus glanced between them and fell into a contemplative silence as he considered the notion. For a moment Leta’s heart sank: he would turn them down, just like his brother had. He too would call the whole thing stupid and cast them off. But then he muttered thoughtfully, “That’s not a bad idea. It’s probably worth a shot, right?”

“See! I knew I liked you better for a reason,” said Corra, beaming and grasping his shoulder.

Leta, sighing in relief to finally have real help, went on, “So you’ll add us to the guest list,” she continued, trying to calm herself, though her fingers drummed atop her knee as she stared intently at him. “And you — you could stand watch while I make nice with these people and talk to this asshole. You’re smart and helpful and you know how to use a gun and Fiearius refuses to help, so — I was hoping you’d come with.”

Cyrus paused in mid-sip of his coffee, slowly lowering the mug. “Oh — no I — I don’t think so,” he answered, sounding characteristically nervous. “I can’t see how I could help. And she’s much better with a gun than I am.” He gestured to Corra. “I don’t think you need me. I’d probably just get in the way.”

Corra, busy examining her nails, pointed out, “And you hate large social gatherings.”

“And I hate large social gatherings,” Cyrus agreed, smiling sheepishly. “I’ll help you get in. But unless you get Fiear on your side, I think you two are gonna have to take on the rest alone.”

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

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Cyrus sighed, nervously adjusting the collar of his formal jacket as he stood in the gardens beside Leta. All around them, couples stood in line to enter the gala, chatting and laughing. “I can’t believe — “

Before he could finish, Corra hooked her arm around his, elbowed him in the ribs and lifted her chin confidently, using her free hand to swish her new dress. “Shush,” she scolded, grinning through the mask on her face. “What if the cap’n’s right and we do get into trouble? Won’t you be glad that you came?”

“If I’m not dead,” Cyrus muttered, and then winced when she squeezed his arm too tightly.