“So what, now you’re kicking me out?!” He sounded like he might laugh, but his eyes were humorless.

“You need help, help I can’t give you,” Alyx snapped. “Help that you’re sure as hell not gonna get here.” She took a deep breath and fixed him with a desperate stare. “So yeah, Finn. I am. Get the hell off my ship.”

————-

Corra’s feet landed with a loud thump on the marble flooring — louder than she’d anticipated. Freezing on the spot, she grimaced and peered down the hallway, praying that there were no figures lurking in the darkness to overhear. Or worse, see. She couldn’t imagine what someone might think observing Ranson Lars’ most obedient ally climbing through one of the mansion’s outer windows. She didn’t want to imagine what would happen next.

Fortunately, the coast seemed to be clear, all of the house’s staff and residents fast asleep by now. So as quickly as she’d entered, she straightened herself up and started toward the servant quarters as though that was what she’d been doing all along. If anyone asked, she’d simply remembered a task she’d neglected in the kitchen. And ideally, no one would have noticed she was even gone.

Admittedly, a few days before the big escape she had planned was not the best time to go sneaking off in the middle of the night. Usually, Corra wouldn’t have taken the risk. But when she’d heard the news feed describing a grim situation on Vescent earlier today while she served drinks to Lars’ guests, she couldn’t wait either.

It wasn’t safe to make a call on the mansion’s grounds, but Corra had discovered a quiet public console station only a few blocks away that allowed her to make the call to Leta discreetly. And she was glad she did.

“I know you can’t tell me where you are, but you’re safe, aren’t you?” Leta had pressed.

Corra had laughed grimly as she’d considered her current situation. Embedded as an ally and intent on staging a mass rescue in a few days. ‘Safe’ wasn’t a word she’d choose. Finally she’d muttered, “Safe enough. But I called to talk about you, not me. Tell me about Vescent. The news we heard here was a little skewed…”

“It was bad, Corra,” Leta sighed. “We had riots two years ago, but not as bad as this. I won’t be making it back there anytime soon … “

“So you’re staying on the Dionysian?” Corra couldn’t help but smirk at that, glad to know that even after all these years, she could still count on Fiearius to have as much invested in Leta’s safety as she did.

“I know what you’re thinking and no, I’m not sleeping with Fiear.”

“I didn’t say anything! Nor would I,” Corra laughed. “Just making sure you’re okay is all. Are you hanging in there?”

Leta laughed. “Barely, but yes, I am,” she said, which was the most assurance Corra could have hoped for. Their calls were infrequent and never more than a few minutes, but she relished them.

Corra wouldn’t describe herself as lonely, exactly. How could she have been — she was constantly busy and surrounded by people. She enjoyed the company of the allies she worked to free. With each new ‘owner’ she situated herself under, she gained a new family of sorts.

And yet, none of her new families seemed able to fill the hole that had appeared in the center of her chest. No one had managed to come close to the kind of relationships she’d used to kindle and she still felt pangs of regret when her mind turned to Leta, to Cyrus, to Addy, Alyx, to Finn…

The image of Finn’s face came to her mind’s eye, staring up at her from the wreckage of that ship that had plowed into the grandstand. His voice calling out to her. Her sudden need to flee. She still didn’t know what he was doing there or how such a coincidence (if it even was one) could have occurred. But as much as she knew she had to get out of there at the time, there was a part of her now that wished she could have answered him…

She shook the thought from her mind as she gently eased open the door to the servant’s quarters and slipped into the hallway inside. There was no time to feel remorseful about days long past. She had a job to do and an important one at that. In two days, she’d be leading all of these people into freedom. Slipping up now wasn’t an option.

She was almost to the door to her assigned barracks when she noticed that she wasn’t the only one awake in this section of the mansion. Hushed whispers were coming from up ahead, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying and, in this darkness, she could see little more than featureless figures coming her way.

Corra slowed her pace, peering towards them as they entered into her view. They didn’t look like anyone she knew, nor did they hold themselves like allies. Guests of Lars? She didn’t like to imagine what some visiting dignitaries or businessmen would be looking for in the servant’s quarters at this hour. But they weren’t dressed nearly well enough to fall into Lars’ usual range of friends. And then, suddenly, their whispers silenced and they stopped where they stood.

Out of instinct, she too stopped. They’d seen her. And then one of them said a word she didn’t expect to hear: “Corra?”

They were–looking for her? And they knew her actual name? Lars’ people only knew her as Ava. Were they from the Conduit?

The two men were coming towards her as she tried to figure out what was going on. No one other than Raisa knew where to find her, perhaps she was trying to get in touch? Something must have been wrong for them to show up now.

Still, Corra stood defensively as they approached, holding her head high and keeping her hands firmly at her sides. “Corra?” one of the men asked again.

Corra regarded him carefully, unsure what the right answer was. If he was from the Conduit, she could tell the truth, but if not–

Unfortunately, she never got the chance to make her decision. Suddenly, the other man growled, “It’s her!”

Before she could think, a dark figure rushed towards her face, lifted his arm, and then everything went black.

“We can talk numbers in a bit, I’m still a little hesitant over what we discussed before, but maybe I can be convinced.”

“Finn, what is he –” Alyx whispered.

He jabbed his thumb back toward the door. “Shall we take the tour then? I’m excited to take a closer look.”

Finally, Finn managed to ask, “I’m sorry, have we–do I know you?”

At once, the man clapped his hand to his head. “Oh gracious, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself.” He seized Finn’s hand again. “Taros Lin. I’m the man who responded to your for sale ad? For the ship?”

Suddenly, alarm rose to Finn’s face.

Alyx felt her stomach drop. Her jaw followed. She spun around to Finn. “Your what?!” she demanded.

Guilt was written all over his features. “Alyx,” he muttered, “listen–”

“You’re selling the ship?!” she shouted over him “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Finn’s hand met his forehead. “It was a while ago. I just put up the ad, just to see, I didn’t really think–”

“Wait,” interjected the would-be buyer, looking stricken. “Are you no longer selling?”

“No,” Finn said decisively.

“But two days ago, you said–”

“Two days?!” Alyx snapped. “Oh, it was a while ago was it?”

“Alyx, c’mon–” Finn muttered.

“So what, you sell the ship, take your cash to go off and do as you please, what happens to the rest of us?” she growled.

“Excuse me–” began Taros Lin, but Alyx cut him off.

“You. Shut up. Get out,” she ordered sharply. “You’re not buying this ship.”

The man pursed his lips, but made to do as he was told anyway. That is, until Finn, his expression suddenly shifting from apology and guilt to pure anger, countered, “No. Stay here. It’s not your call, Alyx.”

“Not my call?!”

Finn’s glare hardened. “It’s my ship, you know I could sell it if I want to.”

“So you’re okay putting eighty people out of work? Out of a home?!”

“If I have to.”

“Have to?!”

“Alyx, all you’ve been telling me is how the ship is falling apart, how we’re behind on payment and schedules. I wanted to see what the ship would go for and split it with everyone. I was just keeping the option open!”

Keep the option open? Alyx could hardly believe her ears. She didn’t even have a response, finding herself only able to stare at Finn in complete disbelief. If he cared so much about Corra, she had to wonder what Corra would think, hearing this? How would she feel knowing that the ship she had worked so hard to build was so easily written off by the man she’d left in charge of it?

Not that it mattered what Corra thought. Corra wasn’t here. Alyx was here. And Alyx was angry.

Finn, oblivious, turned back to the Taros Lin. “You want to buy this ship? Make me an offer. A real offer this time. It’s good enough, ship’s yours.”

“Oh no, it is not.”

“You can’t stop me, Alyx,” Finn growled. “The Beacon is falling apart. It’s done. Let it go.”

Alyx bit down on the inside of her cheek and marched forward until her eyes were even with his. “No, Finn. The Beacon isn’t done. You’re done.”

“‘Cuse me?”

“You wanna leave? You wanna be free of this terrible burden you’ve had to bear?” Her words dripped with sarcasm. “Fine. But to hell if I’m gonna let you hand off everything we’ve worked so hard for to this guy.” She gestured to the short stocky man who was now inching towards the exit. “Be free, Finn. Get the hell out. Go live whatever delusional dream you want, I can’t care anymore. But the Beacon? She’s mine.”

An odd expression came to Finn’s face — half appalled, half admiring, like he could not believe her daring. “You can’t do that.”

“Can’t I? I’ve run this ship pretty much on my own for years, Finn. You may have had the title, but honestly, who did all the work? Sure as hell didn’t see you helping out ever.”

“That’s bullshit — “

“Face it, I am the only reason this ship kept sailing after Corra left. I know what happened back then was shit, I know it was hard on you. Losing your home, your parents, your best friend, I get it, it sucked. And I have been so patient with you, I have. Through all of your binges and your alcoholism and every hindering step you took along the way. But Finn I have been too fucking patient for too damn long and I just can’t be patient anymore. I can’t put up with this any longer.”

“You told me to do this,” Fiearius said suddenly, his voice colder than Cyrus had anticipated. When Cyrus just gawped up at him, he said again, “You told me to do this.” He cocked a brow. “Five years ago. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think good would come of it. And you told me I should. You told me you wanted to go home. And I’m doing this–not for freedom and liberty and all that bullshit. I’m doing this for you.”

Cyrus felt his words catch in his throat. “I didn’t ask you to–”

“You did,” Fiearius snapped, his voice rising again. “You did ask. You wanted me to do this so one day, you could see Satieri again. So your daughter could see it.” He slammed his palm down on the table, so hard that it made Cyrus jump. “You think I don’t know how fucked up this is? You think I don’t see, every fucking day, how much more damage we’re causing than fixing? It’s been one step forward, three steps back for five years, Cyrus, and you think I don’t realize that?”

“Well–” Cyrus stuttered, but he was immediately cut off.

“And the funny thing is, you don’t even know the half of it!” Fiearius cried, a manic tilt to his voice as though this was, in some sick way, hilarious. “You have no idea what I put up with. The way Carthis uses me, the way the damn media treats me, the shit from my own fleet, not to mention the actual battlegrounds, do you even know how many people I’ve lost, Cy? Do you? I would give anything to end this. Anything. But I keep going through all of it because for some fucked up reason, I still believe in what you said to me five years ago. That one day, I can fucking go home.”

For the first time, Cyrus found himself at a complete loss for words. His mouth hung open stupidly as his brother just shook his head.

“But sure, you’re probably right, it’s pointless. It’s all pointless, it’ll never work. I think that every minute of every waking hour, but you think you have the right to come in here and lecture me about it? How fucking dare you,” Fiearius growled. “Fuck you, Cyrus.” And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, leaving his half-eaten meal sitting on the table.

Cyrus was left reeling. Whatever exchange he’d been anticipating, it certainly hadn’t been that. For a long moment, he was dumbfounded and speechless. And then, slowly, when the shock wore off, he started to get angry.

‘Doing it for you’ Fiearius had said. He was doing this whole war for him? Bullshit. Convenient excuse, maybe. Pin all the guilt on someone else. But Cyrus knew better than that. It wasn’t his fault all this had happened. Regardless of what he’d said five years ago, the choice to join Carthis and all the choices since then had been Fiearius’ and Fiearius’ alone. In what universe was he supposed to take the blame?

“I can’t believe him,” he groaned finally, balling his fist on the table. Addy remained silent at his side. “Acting like this was all my doing? That I started this war. I didn’t fucking start anything, I want it to just end already.”

Finally, he heard Addy mumble, “Who doesn’t?”

He looked over at her. “Thanks for sticking up for me, by the way,” he remarked, a little crueler than he’d intended and at once he regretted it. Her eyes narrowed on him and she stood up from her seat, taking the abandoned plate with her.

“I’m not getting involved in your sibling rivalry,” she told him, her voice sharp enough to slice right through his pride. “If you two want to argue like children, keep me out of it.” Cyrus winced and dropped his head again, feeling even more stupid and ashamed now. That is, until she added from the kitchen, “And for the record, I agree with your brother anyway.”

At that, he gaped at the kitchen door. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not,” she answered, returning to lean in the doorframe. Quickly, she waved her hand and amended, “Not about you and what you said or any of that, but–” She looked away from him and sighed. “He’s right. I want to go home. And I do think it’s possible.”

Cyrus frankly couldn’t believe his ears. “But at what cost?” he demanded. “The people of Vescent wanted their home back too and look how that turned out.”

Addy sighed again, heavier this time as she returned to the table and sat back down. “I know. I’m not saying it’s easy or simple or black and white, but some change, any change, is better than where we started.” She reached over and took his hand. “Cy, I want Kalli to see Satieri. I want to see my father again. I want to build a home and a life for our family.”

“We have a home,” Cyrus said at once and she recoiled her hand. “Adds, we have Archeti. We can build a home and a life there.”

She fixed her eyes on him seriously. “I don’t want to build a life on Archeti.” Cyrus opened his mouth to respond, but found no words came out. She shook her head. “Archeti’s been fine, don’t get me wrong. And I’m glad that we’re helping people who need it, I am. But–gods–” Suddenly, she fell back in her chair and touched her fingers to her temple. “Look, when you told me rebuilding Archeti was what you wanted to do, I was proud of you. And of course, I wanted to be with you so I agreed to come without a second thought, really. But Cy–” She leaned forward again. “I didn’t ever think we’d be staying.”

Cyrus again found himself dumbfounded. “What did you want to do then?” he asked, his tone coming off a lot more accusatory than he’d intended.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I thought we’d go back to the station eventually, maybe Carthis proper, work on ships, hell I even considered coming back here.” She gestured to the Dionysian around them. “Because I thought we were on the same page, Cy. I thought the end goal was still Satieri.”

“I-it was,” Cyrus stuttered, shaking his head. “I mean, of course, I’d love to go back there, but– gods, Addy, you really think that’s gonna happen? After everything we’ve seen? You’re so focused on this dream, I’m tired of waiting for our lives to start when it may never even happen.”

Now, he stared at her and he knew that she knew exactly what he was referring to. Most people referred to the couple as ‘partners’. It fit and neither Cyrus nor Addy had ever refuted the title. It sounded more appropriate than ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’ anyway for a pair of people raising a child together. But Cyrus had an old-fashioned streak and while he was content being Addy’s ‘partner’, there was another word he would have preferred.

Unfortunately, when he’d proposed to her a few years ago in the most romantic manner he’d been able to conjure, she had apologized profusely and insisted that if she was going to be married, she wanted to be married at home, on Satieri in a traditional Ridellian ceremony. Only a year into the war at the time, Cyrus hadn’t really disagreed. But as the war dragged on, his agreement started to wane. Addy’s resolve, however, had not.

“Cy, c’mon,” Addy said, shaking her head, wanting him to stop, of course. It was her typical reaction when he brought it up.

“What if it never ends?” he asked, apparently more daring this evening with every subject. “Hell, what if we outright lose?”

“Cy,” she scolded.

“I’m just saying.” He took her hand again. She didn’t fight, but she didn’t reciprocate either. “I love you. I don’t want to put off everything for us because of politics. And I don’t just mean a wedding, I mean our home, our family. You don’t like Archeti? Fine, we’ll move. We can go anywhere, do anything. I’ll be happy with you no matter where we are.”

Addy looked down at their interlocked hands and then up at his face. “And if I want us to move to the CORS and work on the active Carthian fleet?” she asked bluntly.

It was a test, Cyrus knew. And as his mouth hung open without a response for each passing beat, he knew he was failing it. “Well–” he finally blurted out, without follow-up.

She slid her hand from his and stood up. “That’s what I thought.” She started walking away from him, but she paused in the doorway. “Cyrus, I love you, I do. You’re an amazing father and a genuinely kind, talented person. But–” She looked away from him. “Sometimes I think we’re just very different people…”

And then she was gone, disappeared into the dark hallway of the ship, leaving him alone in the dining room, just as stunned as before.

Despite himself, Cyrus was just intrigued enough not to look away as Leta smiled at him kindly, touched his elbow once and walked away towards the crew quarters. Fiearius watched her leave, running his other hand through his hair — a gesture of unease, Cyrus was sure. Then Fiearius turned towards the kitchen.

Out of instinct, Cyrus was prepared to duck back inside to pretend he was still washing dishes, but Addy did just the opposite. She stepped out into the dining room and put her hands on her hips. Fiearius froze and regarded her suspiciously, likely bracing himself for whatever she was about to accuse him of.

“So you two back together finally?” she asked cheerfully, which made Fiearius laugh, but after a too-long pause.

“What? No. No of course not. The hell would you think that for?”

“Really?” Cyrus couldn’t help but ask. “Really?”

Delayed as it may have been, Fiearius’ typical attitude kicked in. He rolled his eyes dramatically and remarked, “You two don’t have anything better to do than eavesdrop on me? How about you, I don’t know, take care of your daughter maybe?”

“She’s in bed,” Addy answered simply. “Did you sleep together again?”

Cyrus did a double take. “Again?”

Fiearius just glared at her. “No. Just–How is this any of your business?”

“Because you’re family and I care about your emotional well-being?” She nodded towards the crew quarters. “And Leta’s.”

“Our emotional well-beings are fine.” Fiearius forced an unpleasant smile. “Can we not please?”

“You can’t ignore this forever, you know,” said Addy wisely. “Is she staying on the ship? Because that’s really going to–”

“Here’s an idea,” Fiearius said suddenly, stalking forward and pushing past them into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, peered inside and then pulled out the leftovers Addy had just put there. “Let’s talk about something else,” he suggested cheerfully, pulling a fork from the drawer. “Like where the hell I’m dropping you lot off.”

Happy for the change of subject himself, Cyrus answered, “Home?”

Addy cast him a bit of a scolding glance, but she released a sigh as Fiearius walked between them again and back into the mess hall with his food.

“I was actually thinking we should stop by Azbel to visit Eriaas while we’re in the neighborhood,” she said.

Now it was Cyrus’ turn to groan. He sat down at the table beside his sibling and grumbled, “I can’t stand that guy.”

“I know, but he’s been a useful investor for New Genisi so far and we’ll need his support in the next phase,” Addy explained, dropping into a chair too. “And you know as well as I it takes an actual visit to lock things in with him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cyrus agreed, feeling pretty grim about the idea. “What about Kalli though?”

“I’m sure she can behave herself for one meeting, then we’ll catch a ship back to Archeti right after,” Addy said absently. To Fiearius, she asked, “How far is Azbel from where we’re at?”

“I can have you there by tomorrow afternoon,” he promised with a shrug, mouth half full. “It’s close to where we’re dropping off Ren anyway.”

“Perfect,” Cyrus muttered, the opposite of enthralled. But Addy was right, of course, as always, so he couldn’t exactly argue. Instead, he glanced over at his brother. “And you’re…headed to where?”

Fiearius’ jaw tightened and he tilted his head. He didn’t answer and Cyrus got the hint. “Can’t tell, got it.”

“Sorry, Cy, it’s just better if you don’t know,” Fiearius explained.

“I get it. Don’t want to get in the way of your assassin-ing.” He waved his hand vaguely in the air while Fiearius regarded him with a bit of a guarded frown. Cyrus looked over at him, feeling a spike of irritation he couldn’t quite explain. The very thought of Fiearius’ colorful employment history had always set him a bit on edge, but it was something more than that which lead him to say, “I thought you were done doing that, by the way.”

By the look on Fiearius’ face, he had at least partially been expecting this. “We’re really gonna go through this again?” he asked, a touch impatient.

Truth be told, it was a conversation they’d had a number of times before over a span of many years. When they’d fled Satieri nearly a decade ago, Cyrus had been appalled to learn what his older brother had been up to in his absence: killing people. Professionally. And while Fiearius had initially agreed and promised to give it up, it always seemed to go back to that. There was always an excuse. They needed money, it was a good connection, no one would miss them, and now this.

Still, Cyrus should have dropped the matter. Of all of Fiearius’ excuses to murder, this was probably the best he’d had to date. But for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself. “I just thought you were tired of people ordering you around to do their dirty work.”

Fiearius’ eyes narrowed and Cyrus felt Addy tense at his side.

“Alright,” Fiearius said shortly, standing up from the table. “We’re not doing this.”

“But you are doing it,” Cyrus countered without skipping a beat. “You’re doing all of it. Carthis tells you to run, you run, they tell you to jump, you jump, they tell you to assassinate high-level government officials?”

“Carthis didn’t tell me to–” Fiearius began, his fist noticeably clenching at his side. “This was my plan. My decision.”

“Was it?” Cyrus asked, feeling bitterness rise. “Was any of this your plan? Really?”

“The hell are you saying?” Fiearius demanded.

“I’m saying we’re five years into a war that’s starting to look a little pointless, don’t you think?”

Fiearius barked his usual dog-like laugh. “Pointless? Pointless?!”

“Cyrus — “ said Addy quietly, but Cyrus continued on, “Yeah, pointless. What good has come of all this? Honestly?”

“We’ve chased the Society out of 50% of their strongholds,” Fiearius growled. “We’ve liberated a handful of planets from their grip. We’ve freed countless people–”

“And then what? Put them directly under Carthis’ thumb?” Cyrus pointed out with a grim laugh. “For the gods’ sakes, Fiear, you were just on Vescent. You saw what I saw. And you really believe what’s happening is right?”

“No!” Fiearius snapped, “Of course I fucking don’t, but I’d take Carthis over the Society any day.”

“Of course.” Cyrus rolled his eyes. “Because Carthis at least gives you the illusion that you’re more than just a tool to them.”

Fiearius opened his mouth, a bitter argument already on his lips, but he hesitated.

“Face it,” Cyrus went on, unafraid. “You’ve spent all this time fighting the Society for them and when it’s all over? If it’s ever over?” He lifted his hands in defeat. “The Span’s just got a new overlord to deal with and is practically no better off than it was before.”

He expected Fiearius to argue. Or perhaps hit him. But his brother’s jaw was clenched shut. His eyes were fixed on Cyrus, ablaze with fury, but he made no motion to act or speak.

Feeling a little hesitant himself now, Cyrus continued, “You’re never gonna be done fighting this, y’know. And–”