“Fiear, no!” Leta shouted from behind, pulling him out of the moment. He faltered and looked back at her. She was doubled over, one hand on her knee, the other wiping the stream of blood from her face. “Fiear…don’t…” she begged and he felt his grip loosen.

When he looked back at the woman he was still holding in place, she no longer looked afraid, but smug.

“Well I guess that’s my answer,” she growled under her breath as Fiearius reluctantly released her. And just like that, the dynamics changed.

The crowd’s hesitation, one by one, started to alleviate. Their concern, their fear, evaporating slowly as they continued to close in. His gun still raised, Fiearius took a step back to stand in front of Leta, but it had lost its effect. They knew now. He’d let up once and they knew. They had the power here, notorious admiral or no.

Cyrus, who was nursing a spot on his jaw where he’d apparently taken a blow of his own, took up his own defensive position on the other side of Leta as the threatening glares surrounding  them continued to advance. “Now what?” he asked, to neither of them in particular.

But Leta had her answer ready. She pushed through the both of them to have a better viewpoint and shouted, “Please, listen. We’re not your enemy. We’re on your side!”

Someone let out a sharp laugh. Another shouted, “Liar!” The woman Fiearius had nearly executed just chuckled bitterly. “On our side? You? You were the ones who put us in this position.”

“We were helping you,” Cyrus growled. “We freed you from the Society.”

“From one hell to another,” said a nearby man grimly.

“All I’ve ever tried to do is help the people of Vescent,” Leta pleaded. “Maybe I got something wrong along the way. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, for what Carthis has done to this place. I never meant–”

“It’s too late for that,” said the woman. “You’ve chosen your side.” She gestured towards Fiearius who did nothing but narrow his eyes at her. “We’ll take our city back. Even if we have to do it one Carthy bastard at a time.”

Fiearius heard Leta choke out a noise of disbelief, the tears starting to stream from her face, but this conversation was clearly over. He reached out with his free hand to take her arm and move her behind him as the crowd rustled with anticipation.

He didn’t want to shoot these people. They didn’t deserve it. Not really. But to hell if he was going to let a bunch of rioters rip them to shreds right here and now.

“Fiear, you can’t,” Leta begged behind him as he readied his gun and switched his aim between a number of the closest threats.

“Not really giving me much of a choice,” Fiearius growled, gritting his teeth and backing up against Leta and Cyrus.

“You kill them, you’ll just prove their point!” said Leta in his ear.

Fiearius glanced back at her incredulously. Though he seemed to be the only one with a gun, he certainly wasn’t the only person here with a weapon. Throughout the mass of bodies he caught glimpses of knives, pipes, tools. “You’d rather they kill us instead?”

“No, but–”

Fiearius locked eyes with a woman brandishing a long metal bar, poised for the assualt that would start the onslaught. Fiearius adjusted his grip on his gun and, a little more desperately than intended, snapped, “You got a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”

Leta didn’t. But Cyrus said, “I think I might.” And then he spoke into his COMM, “Now.”

Both Leta and Fiearius glanced at him in confusion, but his eyes weren’t on their impending deaths. They were on the sky. Fiearius looked up just as a familiar shape soared into view, sending violent winds whipping through the area. A crazed laugh caught in his throat as the crowd looked up in alarm, stumbling backwards. The Dionysian.

“Attention!” came a garbled version of Addy’s voice from the hulking beast above them as it descended slowly into the square. “Under order of…well, me. You will disband at once or you will be destroyed.”

Some of the crowd scattered. The few that remained were simply stunned. But as Addy continued, “At the very least, if you do not leave, I will land this ship on you. So out. Shoo! Go on!” they seemed to get the hint. Fiearius managed to lock eyes once more with the woman who’d hit Leta. She narrowed her glare on him once more before turning to disappear into the streets.

Fiearius held his arm over his face to brace himself from the blast of air and dust as the Dionysian touched down. The ramp lowered and Eve was the first to run down it, guns at the ready. “Cap’n!” she began, “You need–”

“We’re good,” Fiearius cut her off, shaking his head. “We’re fine.” He looped his arm under Leta’s and helped her towards the ramp as she winced against the roar and tumult of the ship’s engines. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

He felt Leta slow to a stop. She was staring past him through bleary eyes, blood smeared across her mouth, gazing over the streets of Fall’s End.

He thought he could read her mind. After all this, she still wanted to stay here? She still thought it was safe to stay here? He followed her gaze and saw her fixated on the sight of her clinic, or what had once been her clinic, now a pile of ash and rubble, smoke coiling in the air. Her team of staff along with Nikkolai were attending to the few patients that made it out of the charred remains behind them. But the building was gone. Unsalvageable. And so much of what had come with it.

She stared at it in silence, still as a statue — Fiearius thought she might never move until finally Fiearius felt her grip tighten around his side. She looked back at him, clearly trying to hold back the tears lingering at the edge of her eyes, and nodded once.

Fiearius pulled her closer to his side, and together they finished the walk up the ramp and into the Dionysian.

“I’ll do it,” he volunteered, an offer that he’d thought would relieve her.

“It’s my clinic, Fiear,” she snapped, ripping her arm from him yet again. Anger filled her face, but her voice was cracking. Was that the nearby smoke making her eyes red? “My people, my responsibility and–”

“Running into burning buildings is my specialty,” he interrupted, the tiniest of smirks twisting into his lips. It was no time for jokes, but the desperate need to keep the woman before him from breaking was enough that he’d try anything. He gripped her shoulder for just a moment before promising, “I’ll check it out,” locking eyes with Cyrus. Cyrus nodded his understanding at the unspoken order to watch over her, and then Fiearius ran straight into the mess himself.

And it was a mess. All around him, rebels were cheering as they watched the clinic’s demise. The Carthian soldiers, the ones that Gates had gone through so much trouble to have stationed here, to protect it, to keep it safe, had been rounded up, stripped of their weaponry and they too stared up in silent horror. Closer to the doors were people Fiearius vaguely recognized. Leta’s staff, attending to those patients they had managed to get out of the destruction. Few as they were.

He felt a few sets of eyes on him as he pushed his way through the crowd, unyielding. A few murmurs, even a few shouts (“Is that the admiral?” “Soliveré? Here?”) but he ignored them all. No one even tried to stop him as he barrelled straight into the building without looking back.

He was only inside for a moment when the smell hit him. He recognized it instantly. Burnt flesh was a scent one never forgot.

Fiearius drew one last breath of relatively fresh air before he powered forward. Flames licked at his flesh as he ran through the space as quickly as he dared over the debris and squinted through the smoke for any signs of life

Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any left. There were shapes in some of the beds, but he only spared them a passing glance before he needed to look away. Fiearius would never describe himself as squeamish, but there were some images he didn’t need burned into his memory.

The back of the clinic yielded no further results. He called out and received no response. The realization hit him slowly. They were too late. If anyone else could have been saved, he’d missed the chance by a long shot. He tried not to imagine who those charred corpses belonged to ten, twenty minutes ago, but outside, there was at least one woman who knew. The thought made his stomach churn.

“Dov’ha rei’ja…” he muttered, marking the ih’laana with his fingers over his chest before turning back for the door. But just as he did, he heard a noise that gave him pause.

A crash followed by a curse and then a ‘aha!’

Fiearius turned back and around the corner into a room he’d neglected to check. And there, crouched on the ground in a halo of medicine containers and shattered glass, was the source of the noise.

“Nikkolai?” he asked, almost in disbelief. The young blonde man looked up at him, startled.

“Cap’n?”

“What the hell are you–” Fiearius began, but he cut him off.

“Help me with these,” Niki coughed, gathering as many of the bottles as he could hold in his arms. “If we lose this stuff we won’t get it replaced for weeks and those people out there need it now.”

Fiearius didn’t have time to argue. He rushed forward and seized an armful of his own and then forcefully pushed Nikkolai out of the door before he could argue.

As the two of them made a dash for the exit before this whole place decided to collapse, Fiearius glanced back around the room one last time. All of this. All those people. All of Leta’s work. Reduced to ashes. And for what? A statement? Political protest? Who had even started this?

As if reading his mind, Nikkolai suddenly explained, “I didn’t really see what happened. Just that one of our regulars got in an argument with one of the Carthian guards. Things just escalated from there.” He too glanced back over his shoulder. “It burnt so fast…We barely got anyone out.”

Fiearius felt some obligation to comfort the kid, but he had no words of comfort to give. Hadn’t Leta warned of this exact thing? Hell, even he, separated from Vescent, could have predicted this happening the moment Carthis swept into the place. He wasn’t feeling very comforting, he was feeling angry. An anger that was only exacerbated when he reemerged into the sweet relief of the cold night air and realized the attention of the crowd had altered. No longer were they jeering at the Carthian guards or the clinic they’d destroyed. Their focus had gone to someone else: Leta.

From the doorway, he could see her in the middle of a circle of rioters, speaking passionately, but her words didn’t reach him. Whatever she was saying wasn’t going over well. Cyrus was at her side, his body language defensive as the protesters rounded in on them.

Without another word, Fiearius dumped his pile of medicine into the arms of a shaken clinic worker nearby and pushed his way through towards the epicenter of this charade. The fury was burning through him now, filling his veins and spreading into his clenched fists. He paid no heed to the people he pushed out of his way, some more forcefully than others. One looked ready to start a fight with him next, but one look at his face and they backed off. Smart.

He was nearly through when the conversation finally met his ears. “–trusted you! We believed you were on our side–” someone was yelling at Leta.

“I was,” Leta was pleading over the jeers of the crowd. “I am, I–”

“This was our safe space,” yelled someone else. “We needed it! And you sold it out to those Carthy scums!”

“I didn’t, I’d never!” Leta cried. Fiearius slipped through the angry crowd and glimpsed her expression, torn with despair and determination.

“We thought you were one of us,” snapped one woman, stepping forward out of the fray toward her, her voice cold. “Thought your loyalty was to Vescent.” Fiearius shoved one last body out of the way just in time to see it happen: Leta stepped backwards. Cyrus stepped forward. And then in a flash, two sets of arms reached out from the crowd and seized Leta’s arms, wrenching her backwards as someone yelled, “Whose side are on?!” and launched their fist.

The blow cracked across Leta’s face, and she staggered slightly against the man holding her arms, but then pulled herself free and held her wrist against her blood-soaked mouth. She didn’t look particularly hurt, but she did look angry, and it was nothing compared to the rage that roared in Fiearius’ chest.

With a growl, he threw himself into the crowd and grasped the assailant, seizing her wrist tightly in his grasp and pulling his gun against her head.

Yells and gasps filled the air. They sounded scared. As they should be, Fiearius thought furiously as his finger tightened on the trigger and–

She spread her hands helplessly. “We’ve just spend the last 5 years on Archeti. Drawing blueprints and arguing with committees…”

Cyrus stared at her and got to his feet too. “We’re not just–we have a family, Adds. We have to give Kalli a home, a childhood, safety–”

“Of course, but a home and a childhood and safety aren’t mutually exclusive with running away from everything else,” she argued, speaking less guardedly now. Before he could even begin to retort, she went on, “Gods, Cyrus, we could be doing so much good for this effort.”

“We are doing good.” He couldn’t help the bite in his tone, but he tried to rein it in. “How is rebuilding Archeti not a good thing?”

Addy let out another heavy sigh and dropped her hands to her sides dramatically. “It is good. Of course it’s good.”

“Then excuse me, I don’t really see what the problem is,” he barked, far more sharp than he’d intended. Her eyes flickered up to him, hesitant, reserved and he could see her beginning to shove her anger and frustration back behind the wall she usually kept it behind. Part of him hated when she did that. He loved Adrasteia full of fire and passion unmatched. But part of him, the part he was ashamed of, didn’t mind when she set it aside to prevent an inevitable conflict between them.

It was just easier that way…

“I don’t really–” she began, sounding tired now as she looked straight past his shoulder at the wall. But Cyrus never found out what she wanted to say, because suddenly —

An alarm blared overhead, like a foghorn, filling the room with one long, warning wail. The lights in the room switched from dull fluorescent to a startling red. And then the foghorn ended, replaced by a metallic beep-beep-beep as the base’s alarms started kicking in one by one.

Cyrus locked eyes with Addy, knowing with absolute certainty that both their minds went immediately to the same place, all thoughts of their argument wiped from existence.

“I’ll get her,” said Addy, already halfway across the room. Seconds later, Kalli’s cry wailed right on cue, her small voice calling, “Ti’hma? Pa’ti?” from her bedroom. It was terrible to hear; it made Cyrus’ heart clench.

He went to the console screen, picking up the COMM. “Fiear?” he asked into it, praying his brother was paying attention. “What’s h–”

Fortunately, Fiearius’ voice cut through the static immediately. “Get your things together and stay there, I’m on my way.”

It took only seconds for Cyrus to throw their clothes, shoes and a few of Kalli’s stray toys into their traveling luggage. Addy reemerged from the bedroom, holding Kalli in her arms in her pajamas. Kalli’s hair was an explosion of curls (she had rather infamous bedhead) and she had wide, startled eyes, but she wasn’t crying anymore.

“It’s all gonna be okay, iss’chen,” Addy was saying, pressing her lips against their daughter’s ear. “All fine, you’re safe with us.”

Addy caught Cyrus’ eye meaningfully, gesturing to the luggage and he grimaced knowingly in response —  They didn’t need to have conversations out loud anymore to communicate around their daughter.

Addy smiled at Kalli again. “We’re gonna head back to Archeti, that’s all. How’s that sound? You ready to go home?” Kalli nodded, her light curls bouncing around her head, just as the door to their apartment slid open.

“Ready?” said Fiearius, already reaching to grab one of their bags. “We’re getting out of here.”

They all swept out of the apartment, a flurry of movement. In the hallway, the alarm blared even louder, and Kalli slammed her tiny hands over her ears and stuck out her lip. With her safely distracted in Addy’s arms, Cyrus asked, “Fiear, what’s going on?” as they hurried down the corridor.

Fiearius kept his voice lowered. “Rebels attacked the eastern entrance.”

“Bad?”

“Bad.” But his tone grew chipper when he added, “Which is why we’re leaving.”

Suddenly Addy’s words replayed in his head and Cyrus felt compelled to ask, “Wait, shouldn’t we help — what about everyone else in the base — ?

Fiearius barely reacted. He trotted down a set of stairs and said plainly, “Nope.”

“Will they be okay?”

“Probably,” Fiearius guessed. “Not my concern.”

Cyrus didn’t understand. Not that he particularly wanted to. Fiearius’ motives weren’t something he often found much pleasure in knowing, but he was still trying to work out what was going on when another voice rang out to them.

“Capta–Admiral?” It was Ren, paused in a doorway, looking concerned.

“Calimore,” Fiearius greeted, sounding far too cheerful given the circumstances, Cyrus thought. “Good. Hey, you want a ride outta here, we can drop you off on–”

But Ren spoke over him. “Have you seen Leta?”

Instantly, Fiearius froze.

“She’s not in her quarters,” Ren went on, surveying Fiearius through narrowed eyes from behind his glasses, “I haven’t seen her since lunch. I thought she’d be with you.”

Cyrus glanced to Fiearius’ face and he could see the alarm growing in his eyes. Then Addy spoke up, “Wait, she was meeting some reporter for an interview. At that bar, the one by the river, I think. She left an hour or two ago.”

Fiearius dropped the bag from his hand, where it thudded to the ground. “Shit!” he hissed.

“If she’s out there, where the riot’s happening–” Ren began, but he was cut off.

“I’ll go find her,” Fiearius said simply, already turning on his heel. “Rest of you, get to the Dionysian,” he barked over his shoulder.

Addy looked stricken with worry, but she nodded, tightening her hold on Kalli. Meanwhile, against all reason and logic, Cyrus felt a sudden wave of boldness —

“I’ll come with you.” The words burst out of him, and he marched after Fiearius.

“Cy–” Addy breathed, while Fiearius stumbled to a halt and growled, “What? No. Just get to the ship, Cy.”

“No, I’m coming with you.” He fell into step beside his brother. “I can help look for her.”

“Cyrus,” Addy said from down the hallway, stronger this time, making everyone halt. He glanced back at her only for a moment before fixing a determined stare on his brother who had the look of a man that knew he was treading in dangerous waters.

He hesitated, looking between the couple, until finally he relented, “There isn’t time for this. Whatever, just get moving.”

Without another word, Fiearius turned and headed for the exit. Cyrus spared one more look at his daughter and her mother before following after him into the hallway, where the shudders of the battle outside were echoing through the walls. He swallowed, internally cursing himself.

“If you’re referring to your old friend, then that is an entirely different conversation and–”

“I’m referring to Vescent–”

“Which is a political climate that you do not understand–”

“And I know that the real reason that you won’t leave–”

“–and is frankly–”

“–is Carthis wants Vescent for its empire,” Fiearius finished firmly, fixing Gates with a glare.

“None. Of your. Business,” Gates concluded, returning the glare.

Fiearius found himself nodding slowly. “Right. Of course not,” he agreed quietly. “I just do all the work. Not my business what happens afterwards.”

Gates frowned and put his hand to his temple again. “Admiral–” he began, but Fiearius cut him off, shaking his head.

“No no,” he said, grabbing the bag he’d come in with and heading for the door. “I understand entirely. Politics? The fuck do I know about that?” He nodded. “Well if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be off to do what I’m good for.” He made the shape of a gun with his index finger and thumb and fired it into the air before rolling his eyes and stalking out the door.

——–

With a sigh, Cyrus shut the bedroom door behind him, quietly and carefully as he could. “Well, she’s asleep,” he said to Addy, crossing towards where she sat on the couch in their temporary apartment on Vescent’s base. “Three rounds of tears. And only two of ‘em were hers.”

Addy laughed, pushing a book away from her lap. “Guess that means you won’t let me go check on her, right? Even though I miss her already?”

“Don’t even think about it. You wake her up? I’m not helping you put her back down.”

Addy raised her palms in surrender and shifted over to make room for him beside her.

With an exhausted sigh, he dropped into the couch. “Who knew vacations were so draining,” he mumbled as she picked up her book again and cracked it back open to her page.

“Anyone who’s gone on one with a four year old.”

He pulled a smirk across his face and folded his palms behind his neck. They lapsed into silence. It was an exhausted familiar silence he’d grown accustomed to. The one that he’d realized came pretty much every night after Kalli was in bed and it was just the two of them. Usually that silence ended up being filled with talk of work. Plans for New Genisi. An article one had read about the latest tech conference. But lately, on Vescent, it had just been…silence.

Of course, they were tired. Their daughter was a whirlwind that left them dead on their feet day after day. Surely, Cyrus knew, that was what lead to these long quiet nothings once the sun went down. It had never bothered him before. There was no reason for it to bother him now.

Still, he suddenly found himself a little edgy, desperate to fill it.

“Maybe you and I should go some place,” he suggested, reaching out to gently stroke her arm with the back of his hand. “Just the two of us. Get away for a bit.”

Addy closed her book a few inches and looked over at him, intrigued. “Where would you want to go?”

Cyrus shrugged. “Not sure. Somewhere warmer… I wonder if I’m still wanted on Paraven…”

“Tarin’s nice this time of year,” she put in, closing the book entirely now.

“Yeah, but we always go there,” Cyrus sighed. He pushed himself up and spun towards her, crossing his legs on the couch in between them. “C’mon, I want to go on an adventure.”

A smile flashed across Addy’s face and she too swung her legs up, mimicking his pose. “Someone missing their days as a fearless space pirate?”

Cyrus laughed. “Never. But…maybe a little.” He took her hands in his and squeezed. “Let’s go steal something valuable and sell it.”

Now, Addy laughed out loud. “What?”

“You heard me,” he declared. “We’ll seek out our fame and fortune, make the Span our own. People will shudder when they hear our names.”

She was still laughing when she pressed her hand to his forehead. “You feelin’ okay, sweetie?”

“Better than ever.” He grinned.

“And what will become of our offspring while we’re off pillaging, may I ask?”

“Oh we have plenty of willing babysitters,” he told her, waving off the concern. “Petro, Leta, Fiear–”

Addy barked a shocked laugh. “You want to leave our daughter on the flagship of the Soliveré fleet?!”

“Better off there than with us,” Cyrus mused with a wry grin, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. When she just regarded him with a confused tilt of her head, he clarified, “Because we’re dangerous.”

“Right, of course,” she chuckled, then kissed him on the forehead. “Sorry, dear, but you have got to be the least dangerous person I know.”

Cyrus frowned at her dully. “That’s not true.”

“When Kalli learned to walk, you dressed her in so much protective padding in case she fell that she could barely even waddle.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want her to get hurt.”

“You still won’t let us keep a gun in the house, despite practically everyone offering, insisting even, that they give us one.”

“We shouldn’t need one!” he defended.

Addy scoffed good-humoredly, but her next comment, to Cyrus’ surprise, reeked of bitterness. “Not to mention how eager you were to put us both in retirement as soon as the war started.”

Cyrus felt a bit like she’d slapped him in the chest. He blinked at her as his hands slipped away from her waist. “We’re not ‘in retirement’…” he muttered under his breath.

It didn’t take long for Addy to realize what she’d said and try to backpedal. “No, I know, I don’t mean ‘retirement’ exactly,” she said hurriedly, looking away from him. “I just–” She sighed. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Cyrus said, sounding unintentionally cold. This wasn’t the first time this had come up. Or at least this wasn’t the first time they’d skirted the edges of it. There was something bothering Addy and though she always seemed reluctant to come out and say it, he could sense it nonetheless. Something that was slowly gnawing at her and affecting the way she looked at him when they woke up in the morning and the way she lay in his arms at night. Cyrus had gotten used to trying to ignore it, just as she had. It had long been a mutual understanding that it was best to avoid conflict if they could. For Kalli’s sake, of course.

But Kalli wasn’t here. And Cyrus was feeling particularly bold this evening.

“Just tell me.”

As stunned as he’d felt a minute ago, Addy seemed even more so. She stared back at him, her lips pursed in thought, her eyes flicking over his face as though trying to read something in it. How much he could handle, Cyrus guessed, feeling a touch offended by it.

“It’s nothing, really,” she insisted, though she didn’t meet his eyes when she said it and within an instant she was on her feet and pacing away from the couch.

“Addy…” he scolded and she glanced back at him.

She let out a sigh and lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “It’s just–I don’t know. We used to be fixing ships, Cy. Sailing across the Span, having those adventures you talked about. And those ships are still out there, changing lives and doing important things and…”