“Eh?” Eve grunted, looking annoyed by the interruption. “What kind of alert?”

“Not sure, that’s what I need to–” Javier’s fingers flew over the console keyboard, and then he brought up the radar screen. His eyes went round. “Ships. Coming in from orbit.”

Leta sat up sharply. “What?”

“Five of them. Looks like–” He tapped the console. “Small fighters.”

“Why would there be fighters here?” asked Eve.

“There wouldn’t be,” muttered Leta, setting down her beer carefully, though her mind was already roaring with alarm. “There’s nothing on this moon.”

“Except us,” pointed out Javier.

“They followed us here,” Eve growled. “It’s Society, isn’t it?”

Javier was shaking his head. “Not Society, I don’t think — and if they were ours, they’d have hailed us. These ships–”

“Are coming straight at us!” Eve yellled, gesturing to the radar screen on the secondary console.

“I scanned them, they’re–they’re reported stolen,” Javier breathed, looking over to Leta, as if silently begging her to figure this out.

Leta shut her eyes in realization. Of course. Irony of ironies. “Pirates.”

————-

The rest of the Harrowden bunker looked much like the first part. Fiearius was beginning to truly believe he’d been completely wrong about this. He glanced back at Dez. Well, they were both completely wrong about this. He wouldn’t take all the blame.

“Where else would she be?” Fiearius asked, closing a door to an empty storage area and not bothering to keep his voice down anymore. Perhaps somewhere less traceable, he realized after a moment, feeling internally ashamed. The Councillors were known for secrecy. And he was able to figure all of this out.

But it hadn’t been easy, he argued. He’d had to stay up for three days straight, make seven separate deals with Ascendian criminals and bang his head against at least ten walls before he’d gotten to this point. It was a guess, but it was a very educated guess.

Shockingly, despite their bad start, Dez didn’t seem as disheartened yet as he felt. “She should be here.”

“Well unless you know something I don’t know, she’s not,” Fiearius pointed out, shutting yet another door so they’d know it had already been checked.

It didn’t help that this bunker seemed to go on for miles. He’d known the Harrowdens had been rich, but he had assumed that their secret hideaway would be smaller than the rest of their estate. He’d assumed incorrectly.

“Maybe we’re going the wrong way,” was Dez’s idea.

“What difference does it make? The whole place is like this.” Fiearius ran his finger along a shelf they passed, dragging a clump of dust along with it.

“But maybe it’s not,” Dez said which, Fiearius thought, was about the most useless statement he could have made. His second statement, however, was not. “Something smells weird.”

Fiearius looked back to see that he had stopped and was sniffing the air curiously. A frown passed over his face. “I don’t smell anythi–” Fiearius began, but suddenly, to his alarm, he did. He did smell something. Something he’d been smelling far too often lately.

Fiearius spun back around just as it became visible in the hallway in front of him. The beginning sparks of flame. “Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me,” he breathed as the spark met a wooden shelving unit and roared upwards.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp tug on his arm and he was being wrenched backwards by Dez. “Why does this keep happening to me?!” Fiearius demanded as he spun around and fell into pace beside him. He could feel the heat starting to rise at his back, which he shouldn’t have. There wasn’t enough fuel in here to make it spread this quickly. This was planned.

“I’ll give you one guess,” Dez called to him over the growing noise, echoing his own suspicions. Ophelia Varisian.

Fiearius shook his head. “What the hell did you do to that psycho?”

Dez cast him a strange look. Somewhere between worry and apology. But Fiearius didn’t have time to analyze it as they turned a corner and were met with another wall of fire.

“Shit, she’s boxed us in,” Fiearius growled.

“This way.” Dez took them down the adjacent hall which was clear, for now. Flames blocked off hallways they passed, forcing them down what was apparently the only safe path. It felt determinate. Intentional. She was leading them somewhere?

And then she lead them into a room that wasn’t as empty as the rest. Fiearius stumbled to a halt and locked eyes with the woman standing before him, eyes he hadn’t seen in years. They were different now. Older, tired, something more harsh about them. Her blonde hair was cut short. She’d lost some of her bulk. But it was still Varisian and her stare still threatened to slice his head off at the first wrong move.

But Varisian didn’t attack, not at first. In fact, she looked like she hadn’t expected them. At least not yet. She stood in the center of the room like they’d caught her in the middle of some intimate embarrassing act and no one could move. But suddenly, her eyes snapped to Dez. Her brow furrowed. She threw something across the room which crashed and started a blaze in the doorway and then, finally, she drew a blade from her hip and attacked.

Attacked Dez.

Fiearius staggered backwards anyway, drawing his gun and trying to get a good aim as the woman lashed out, a flurry of rage and grace. Dez held her off, dodging out of the way, parrying her lunges and eventually drawing a blade of his own. Between the two of them, Fiearius had a hard time getting a clear shot, but in the end, he didn’t have to.

“Go!” Dez ordered through gritted teeth as he blocked Varisian’s attack.

“What?!”

“Go!” he shouted again and nodded towards the other door that she hadn’t blockaded. “I’ll hold her off. The Councillor is here. Go! Finish the job!”

Fiearius couldn’t fathom most of what was happening. Why Ophelia was so set on stabbing Dez to death, how she’d even gotten here, what she was doing with the path of fire, but there was one thing that did make sense. Dez was right. She wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t something worth protecting.

He hesitated only a moment more, taking one last look at his old friend as he countered the onslaught, before he turned down the hall and made a run for it.

She’d already gotten to this hall. There were flames blocking every passage, every door, Fiearius was certain he’d run down a dead end right up until he saw it. The alcove, just a small dome branching out of the hallway that seemed insignificant. But the fire hadn’t touched it. It was clear. And set into the floor was a hatch that, unlike everything else in this damn place, wasn’t shielded by dust.

Without thinking, Fiearius grabbed the handle and yanked it open to reveal the hole and the ladder below. This ladder he wasn’t careful with, bracing his feet on the sides and sliding down to the bottom with a thump.

He stumbled backwards, looking back up into the flickering lights above him, but before he could turn around, a voice froze him in place.

“Fiearius Soliveré. I’ve been expecting you.”

Of course, Leta hadn’t expected a different answer. It hadn’t changed before, why would it change now? They still argued about this for hours, sometimes late into the night. But that didn’t stop her from pointing out, “We can’t trust him. His motives are unclear, or they don’t seem genuine. He’s hiding something, Fiear, I know it. He could play you any second and it could end with you dead.”

But Fiearius held up a hand to her. “I know. I know…And I’m not asking you to trust him.” He took a few steps back towards her and grasped her upper arm. “But trust me, okay?” Leta met his stare, not feeling any more comforted than she had a moment ago. But she sighed and nodded agreement anyway. What other choice did she have? She’d been fighting this battle for years, it was clearly one she wouldn’t win.

“And I will trust you to take care of my ship while I’m gone,” Fiearius went on, his tone lighter as he let his arm fall back to his side. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, alright?”

Leta couldn’t quell the worry that was rising in her chest, but she forced her best knowing smile. “That’s not narrowing it down very much,” she muttered as he headed for the door, laughing down the hall.

—————

The Harrowden family’s Second Division War bunker looked like it hadn’t been opened in decades. Centuries, maybe, Fiearius thought as he watched Dez skillfully work on the great metal door buried into the ground of the desolate plain of a forgotten Ascendian moon. But that was exactly what someone hiding down there would want someone to think, from the outside, wasn’t it?

“Want me to take another turn?” Fiearius asked, reaching for the tool in Dez’s hands, but Dez didn’t move.

“I can handle the rest.”

Fiearius eyed him skeptically and glanced back at the seemingly endless expanse of darkness around them. They’d been out here for nearly an hour now, patiently etching away the lining of the sealed hatch. Not that it mattered. Fiearius had never set foot in a place more lonely than where he stood then. The Society couldn’t post agents here, that might draw attention, give something away. This place had to seem deserted in its entirety. There was no one around for hundreds of miles.

His attention was drawn back to Dez when he heard a clunk and a satisfied, “Ahh.” Fiearius stepped forward to help him wrench the thing open, but Dez brushed him off and heaved the heavy metal door out of the way himself.

“Show-off,” Fiearius muttered.

“Jealous,” Dez countered as climbed backwards into the hole he’d opened in the ground.

Fiearius just rolled his eyes and followed down after him, taking the rusty rungs of the ladder one at a time and trying to be as silent about it as possible. Now that they were inside, they were running blind. He knew about the bunker, but he certainly didn’t know the layout. He didn’t know where their target might be hiding. And he certainly didn’t have as much of a plan here as he would have liked.

He felt the ladder’s tension change as Dez presumably dismounted below him. It was only another few moments of climbing before Fiearius felt solid concrete himself and turned around to get a look at what they’d descended into.

It wasn’t exactly what he was expecting.

“You’re sure she’s down here?” Dez whispered, his tone dry as the two of them peered into the dark, musty space. It, much like the door, didn’t seem to have been touched in generations. Dim generator lights kept the narrow room from being plunged into complete blackness. Shelves lined the walls, empty save for a few cans of food Fiearius likely wouldn’t open with a ten foot pole. A few mattresses had been leaned up in the corner. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.

“I was,” Fiearius answered, but he was beginning to doubt himself too. Ren’s research had all pointed to one Rebeka Palano as the Councillor of Ascendia. An upstart politician herself, Palano was heir to the massive Palano estate before she had “died” of illness thirty years ago. But the Palano estate hadn’t always been called Palano. Two generations ago, it had been the Lorna estate. And before that, the Ori estate. And before that, during the Second Division War, the Harrowden estate.

“This is her family’s long lost bunker,” Fiearius mumbled under his breath. “We’re at war, she’s in danger, where else would she go?”

Dez narrowed his eyes through the darkness. “Yes. Where else would she go?”

“You were the one who told me this was definitely right, that this had to be the place, you were sure of it,” Fiearius snapped quietly.

“Because you told me it was definitely right, it had to be the place, you were sure of it,” Desophyles growled back, but Fiearius just shook him off and stalked further into the room. There was a hallway through a door on the other end that, upon peering down it, he realized lead to more hallways and more rooms and more hallways. Gods, this place was a maze.

“Let’s at least look around,” Fiearius suggested. “There’s still a chance I’m right.”

Dez didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t argue as he followed after Fiearius into the hall.

——————

How long ago had it been — six years? It seemed like a whole lifetime had passed since the very first day Leta had first stepped aboard the Dionysian. The day Cyrus kidnapped her and Fiearius yelled at her and she realized, in horror, that she was on a ship filled with criminals. What would she have thought, back then, if she’d known one day she’d be sitting in that very ship’s bridge as the acting captain?

She was about to settle in and get some work of her own done to pass the time when she heard footsteps behind her. Swinging her head around, she found Eve wandering into the bridge to join her, a couple of beer bottles hanging in her hand.

“Enjoying the view, doc?” she asked, nodding toward the pitch-black horizon filling the bay window. She settled down in the co-pilot’s chair and held out a beer for Leta to take.

Leta almost smiled.  “Not sure I should drink on the job.”

“Cap’n does all the time. Looks like you could use it too.”

Leta hesitated, then accepted the bottle, cracked it open on the edge of the dashboard, and took a long swig: it was true, she was tense. She was trying to not think much about what was happening down in that bunker. Apparently, her unease was written all over her face.

“You’re worried about him,” said Eve, frowning at her in a thoughtful sort of way, and Leta thought: of course I am. She spent half her life worrying and wondering after Fiearius, although she wasn’t willing to admit that aloud. But she couldn’t help but voice the question burning a hole in her heart.

“Do you really think they can pull this off?”

To her surprise, Eve barked a laugh. “You kiddin’, doc? This is the cap’n we’re talkin’ about. Course he can pull it off.” Leta arched her eyebrows, both comforted and confused by her positivity. Either she really believed in Fiearius, or Fiearius had done a fantastic job of convincing her to believe in him. Or both. Eve’s expression did sour slightly when she added,  “Wish I coulda gone with him though.”

“Yeah,” Leta muttered, returning her attention back to her bottle of beer.  “Me too.” Though even as she said it, she wasn’t sure if she meant Eve or herself.

They lapsed into silence. Leta sipped her beer quietly, propping her feet against the dashboard as she tried to avoid imagining all of the horrible outcomes of this mission. She tried to focus on the good ones. Fiearius returning triumphant, the whole crew celebrating, the war beginning its end …

“It’ll probably be awhile,” Eve said, glancing at her knowingly. “You should get your mind off him.”

Perhaps the beer was already going to her head, because Leta smirked and muttered,  “I’ve never been able to do that.”

“Yeah, funny, ain’t it?” Eve sighed. “How some people, you just can’t shake. I know he means a lot to you. But we’re not gonna worry about him, now, doc,” she told her simply. “Cap’n will be back. These things can take a while. But he’ll be back.”

Leta wanted to believe it as much as Eve did. She would try to.

Just then, another set of footsteps pounded up the stairs, and then Javier rushed into room, headed straight for the console screen. “Scuse me, Leta — sorry — I need to check something,” he apologized in a rush. “I got an alert.”

“Cy,” she said again, softly this time as she reached out to put her hand on his, stilling him. “Cy, listen–”

Briefly, he met her eyes. They were fixed on him, full of sadness, pain, sorrow and he knew somehow that she had slept just as little as he had. He couldn’t stop himself from grasping that hand, if even for a moment. But in the end, he said, “Addy, there’s no time. We have to go.”

Now, confusion crossed her face. “What? Why?”

Cyrus opened his mouth to explain, but it wasn’t his voice that filled the room. “P’ahti?” Both parents looked over to find Kalli in her nightdress, rubbing her eyes and standing in the doorway.

“Issyen,” Cyrus cooed, abandoning his packing attempts and rushing over to the door, sweeping the girl up in his arms. He fought the images of her captured away from his mind’s eye.

“P’ahti, what’s wrong?” Kalli asked in a hushed voice, reaching out her tiny hand to touch Cyrus’ face.

“Nothin’, issyen, nothin’, we’re just getting ready to go, that’s all.” The assurance seemed to work and he felt the girl relax a little in his arms, but when he turned back to Addy she was still frowning at him in a desperate attempt to understand what was going on.

He didn’t want to say the word in front of Kalli. She knew what the Society was. She knew it meant danger. And the last thing he wanted was a panicking child, so instead he wrapped his arms around her tighter, leaning her head into his shoulder and over her back mouthed, ‘Society.’

But Addy just frowned deeper and mouthed back, ‘What?’

‘Society,’ he tried again, moving his lips more dramatically and gesturing to the window, but still, she just shook her head and shrugged. He was about to try again when yet another voice cut him off.

“We have a problem. The Society’s here.” It was Eriaas. For once, the man wasn’t his usual spotless put-together self. His robe was dissheveled, he had bags under his eyes and his hair stuck up at all angles. Cyrus might have actually appreciated the sight under different circumstances, but as it were…

“What?” Addy demanded, her own eyes going wide and her face pale. Kalli squirmed in Cyrus’ grasp and looked around at them all in growing horror. “Here? Why?”

“I wish I knew,” Eriaas muttered, glancing over his shoulder as though someone might sneak up and attack him at any moment. “I’ve had no bad relations with them personally, but–” He raised his brows pointedly at the family in the room. “Obviously the timing could be better…”

Kalli was growing more and more restless by the minute, but Cyrus just held her tighter as he asked, “You think they’re here for us?”

“How could they be?” Addy demanded. “The Dionysian is untrackable, there’s no way anyone would know we were dropped off here.”

“It doesn’t matter why they’re here, we just need to leave,” Cyrus decided as Kalli wriggled so hard, he had no choice but to lean down and set her on her own two feet where she simply seized his pant leg in fear.

“It’s a little late for that,” Eriaas argued. “They’re already touching down.”

Cyrus glanced out the window just as the sleek grey shape of the ship descended into view. At once, Addy slid the curtains shut. “He’s right. If we had an opportunity, we missed it,” she said.

“So what, we just wait here for them to find us?” Cyrus demanded.

“Well hang on, now, Cy,” Eriaas argued, holding up his hand. “We don’t know why they’re here. It could be that they just want to meet with me and then leave. No harm done.”

Cyrus met Addy’s eyes across the room as she muttered, “That’s a pretty big risk.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth, a voice filled the COMM speakers. “Sir? An Agent Parnassé at the door for you?”

Eriaas’ jaw tightened. “Not sure you have much of a choice.” He stepped back through the door and began to close it behind him. “Stay here.”

Cyrus strode over to the door and put his hand on it, almost just to assure himself that it was closed. Kalli was still clinging to his pant leg as she looked up at him and mumbled. “P’ahti?”

“It’s okay, issyen, everything’s gonna be okay,” he assured her as Addy joined them at the door and ruffled a hand through Kalli’s hair. The little girl only gripped Cyrus tighter.

“Maybe he’s right,” Addy whispered, locking eyes with him. “Maybe they just want to talk and they’ll leave.”

Cyrus nodded, wanting to believe it, but he found himself holding his breath as he heard, on the floor below them, the front door sliding open.

“Eriaas Argoatan?” asked a brisk female voice followed by Eriaas himself.

“Agent Parnassé, was it? Please, please, come in.”

“I’m so sorry to disturb you at what must be this early hour.” Footsteps clicked across the foyer. “We’ve been on black time for quite a while. I forget morning still exists planetside.”

“Of course, of course, I understand. Not a worry,” Eriaas insisted. “Can I get you anything? Something to drink? Eat?”

“Ah, yes, actually,” Parnassé answered. “A spot of breakfast wouldn’t go amiss.”

“I’ll have my chef start on something right away.”

“Oh, but I must ask, our ship. Is it alright docked where it is?” There was hesitation on Eriaas’ end. “For the long term, I mean.”

“Sorry, long term?”

“Ah, I’m getting ahead of myself. I haven’t even told you why we’re here, have I?”

“You may have left that out I’m afraid.”

Cyrus nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his back. He looked over at Addy who was leaned as closely to the door as he was, listening in. Concern marked her features, anticipation in her stance and when she glanced over at him, she swallowed hard.

“You see, Mr. Argoatan. Can I call you Eriaas? Excellent. We are planning an expedition of sorts. Looking to uncover an ancient device unseen by human eyes for millennia. We’ve heard about your entrepreneurial investments. I’m here to negotiate your involvement.”

Eriaas let out a laugh that sounded a little too relieved. “But of course. I’d be happy to hear your proposal over breakfast, if you’ll just come right this–”

“I’m afraid that’s not all I must ask, Eriaas,” Parnassé cut him off. “I hate to encroach upon the hospitality of a man I’ve only just met, but our expedition? The trail we’ve uncovered to the device? It begins here.”

A long pause passed before Eriaas found his voice and asked, “How long are you looking to stay?”

Parnassé let out an infectious laugh. “Let’s discuss over breakfast, shall we?”

As two sets of footsteps headed out of the foyer towards the dining room, growing quieter and quieter until they faded out entirely, Cyrus couldn’t breathe. No one in the room said a word until suddenly he felt a tug on his pant leg.

“P’ahti? P’ahti, can we leave now?”

Cyrus looked down at Kalli and tried to muster an encouraging smile. “No, issyen. No, I’m afraid we can’t.”

“Not this again?” Cyrus barked through a bitter laugh. “What, the thing that hasn’t changed? Over five years? Gods, Addy, you act like you’ve been given a death sentence since the day I knocked you up. That you’re here because you have to be, that you went to Archeti because you have to, that everything that’s happened up to now is because I forced your hand. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“I never acted like–”

“I’ve tried to make you happy,” he insisted. “Have I been very good at it? Apparently not. But I’ve tried. I love you. I want to be with you. Hell, how many times do I have to say this, I want to marry you–”

“And of course, it goes back to that,” Addy cut him off, putting her hand on her head.

“–and of course, that’s your reaction,” Cyrus growled right back. “And you wonder why–”

“Cyrus, the only reason you want to marry me so bad is to make yourself feel better.” It was perhaps a cruel accusation, Addy realized after she’d said it and she saw the flash of pain across his face. But it didn’t make her feel any less strongly about it. “You want to lock it in so you can assure yourself that everything is fine. But everything is not fine.”

He was nodding slowly now, like she’d just punched him in the gut and he was having a hard time coming to terms with it. “So the excuse about wanting a Ridellian ceremony on Satieri–”

“It’s not an excuse. I do want a Ridellian ceremony. And that is a whole other thing. Do we even need to discuss how you act about my religion?”

“What, the ancient star beings thing?” he responded, rolling his eyes and proving her point. When she just stared at him firmly, he frowned. “What? I’m sorry, it’s ridiculous.”

Addy crossed her arms over her chest and waved a hand in the air. “And important to me.” When she glanced pointedly at him, he clenched his jaw and said nothing. There was a silence between them that suddenly she felt very inclined to fill. “Maybe that’s the root of it,” she said, talking but not sure where she was going. “That what’s important to me…isn’t what’s important to you.”

The words slipped out of her before she could catch them and there they sat, hovering between them as they stared each other down in the hallway. Cyrus didn’t argue them. How could he? They were more poignant than Addy even cared to admit. She loved Cyrus and she knew he loved her, but neither of them could deny that their relationship wasn’t the stuff of legends. It wasn’t even the stuff of a good story. At best, it was a disheartening look at two people that had jumped into something far too serious far too soon. And these days, it was really starting to show.

“We’re not very good at this are we?” Cyrus said at last, his voice quiet, all traces of anger and argument gone now.

“No,” Addy agreed, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think we are…”

He was nodding again, his eyes downcast. “Maybe–I’m just gonna sleep in the shuttle.”

Addy nodded back, slowly. “Okay.”

He caught her eyes briefly, a heavy burden of sadness behind them, before turning down the hall and disappearing down the stairs.

————————————-

The shuttle they had rented, as it turned out, was not a very comfortable sleeping location. Cyrus rolled off the hard, cold cot shortly after the sun began streaming through the cockpit window, but he’d been drifting in between wakingness and uncomfortable dreams about his fight with Addy for what felt like hours.

His feet recoiled as they met the freezing surface of the metallic floor, but he winced and forced his aching body to a stand. One more minute in this cramped rental was too much and not just due to claustrophobia. His sleepless night of bad dreams and solitary contemplation had at least brought him to one realization: that he needed to fix this. And he needed to fix it now.

Cyrus hadn’t bothered undressing the night before and his luggage was still inside Eriaas’ house, so he just slipped on his shoes and stepped out into the sharp morning air. The salty sea wind enveloped him and he sucked in a deep breath that made his lungs ache as he squinted through the morning light at the mansion atop the hill.

You can do this, he told himself. Just apologize and be better. They’d had fights before. Honestly, they had fights more than Cyrus cared to admit. This one may have been different, it may have been worse, but it was still solvable, he knew. It had to be.

So he started the walk up the path, bracing himself against the wind that seemed determined to knock him over and rehearsing lines in his head. He was almost to the door when he noticed the wind suddenly getting louder. And louder. And…more mechanical?

Confused, he looked up and was unsurprised to find a ship still many miles up coming in for a landing. One of Eriaas’ friends probably? Another business associate? Well Cyrus hardly cared. He didn’t want to stick around this place any longer anyway. The arrival of more guests was a perfect reason not to.

But just before he looked away, something about the ship caught his eye and made his breath catch in his throat. As the ship descended through the ocean haze and grew steadily more clear, it became more and more noticeable. The mark on its bow. That symbol. The librera.

Shit.

He was probably still the size of an ant to them at that altitude, but Cyrus nonetheless sprinted the rest of the path and rammed his finger into the COMM button in case that changed soon.

“Argoatan residence, how may I–” began the professional door-answerer, but Cyrus cut him off.

“It’s Cyrus, can you let me in?” he asked, trying not to sound as rushed and desperate as he felt.

“Mr. Soliveré?” asked the voice. “Why are you–”

“Please,” he begged again, “Please, just let me in.”

“Of course, wouldn’t want to–” said the voice and the door slid open. Cyrus hurried inside and ran down the hall toward the stairs long before he could hear the second part of that sentence.

They had to get out of there. They had to leave and quickly. Gods, was it already too late? How the hell could they escape with that ship so close? It was right there. It would see them and as soon as it did? Cyrus didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about Kalli in the clutches of the Society. He couldn’t.

Addy was still in bed when he pulled open the door to the room she’d been staying in, but she didn’t look like she’d been asleep when she blinked up at him, squinting through the light.

“Cy–” she began, apology already heavy in her voice, but now was not the time for apology.

“Addy, get your things,” he insisted, crossing the room to their luggage and started piling what little had been laid out back into the bags.

She frowned at him and slowly lifted herself from the bed. “Wh — ”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he went on, ignoring her.