“Smartest in engineering, not child-rearing,” Cyrus insisted.

“Doesn’t matter, you love her, you’ll love this baby, you’ll figure it out,” Fiearius argued before releasing his grip on him and continuing off down the hall.

But Cyrus wasn’t finished. “And what if we don’t? What if we can’t?” he snapped, following after him.

“You can,” Fiearius answered simply. “And you will.”

“But–the war and the ships and where are we gonna live and how are we going to raise a child with the Society after us–we can’t just figure it out, it’s not that easy.”

“Good thing you’ve got seven months then,” Fiearius pointed out.

“We’ve only been together for two months, and we weren’t even actually together for most of it, what if it doesn’t work out? What if she decides she hates me?”

“Well then you’ll figure that out too.”

Cyrus drew in a deep breath, presumably to argue some more, but Fiearius suddenly stopped walking and spun around. Cyrus would have plowed right into him had he not seized his shoulders and held him at arm’s length. “Cyrus. I know it’s scary. I know it’s bad timing. I know you’re worried. But you have to have faith that you are going to be an amazing father. However things play out.”

Skepticism masked Cyrus’ face. He continued to glare at him as Fiearius released him again and started to walk away.

He’d only made it a few steps before he heard Cyrus mutter begrudgingly, “I don’t believe you.”

Fiearius grinned and called back over his shoulder, “I know. But you will.”

——————

It was strange to be back in the mess hall, surrounded by the Dionysian’s crew. With her pack slung over her shoulder and a small bag of luggage in her hand, she looked even more out of place than usual: merely a temporary traveler amongst this rabble of a family. But despite appearances, the familiar faces greeted her with as much enthusiasm as ever. Amora had wrapped her in a bear hug, Rhys called out to her “Lyra!” and even Maya gave her a warm smile.

She was unsurprised to hear that the crew was all gathered here at the request of their captain. No doubt he wanted to make some sort of dramatic speech to rally them. It was just Fiearius’ brand of narcissism. So she’d happily pulled up a chair and sat back in eager anticipation with her old friends until at last she spotted Fiearius as he strode inside the doorway, Cyrus hovering behind him.

“Alright, listen up!” Fiearius shouted, and all conversation stopped simultaneously. Every eye trained on the captain as he walked forward into the center of the room. His tone was calm and reflective as he went on, “My crew. My dear faithful crew.”

His eyes scanned the room in one large swoop, taking in all the faces around him. He took in a deep breath. “You’ve all followed me into some real shit and back. It probably won’t surprise you that I’m not really one for open-faced gratitude. I don’t say it often. But I appreciate it. I appreciate everything, all the danger and all the recklessness and all the crap you’ve put up with. And I’m here to ask if you’ll put up with it one more time.

“We all have different reasons for being here,” he went on. “For some of us, that reason is that we can’t go home. And for some of us…we’ll never be able to.” His gaze traveled to Eve who was seated solidly in the front, listening with heavy intent, and beyond her, Nikki who was huddled under Javier’s arm, so distraught he barely even looked like himself. Leta felt her heart clench. The loss of Archeti was visible everywhere, even here.

Fiearius drew in a deep breath. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that we’re docked to a Carthian station. And you might have wondered ‘what the fuck are we doing? Carthis is a piece of shit’. And you’re right. But!” He raised a finger in the air. “With Carthis we’ve been given a chance. A chance to get our homes back and to make sure no one else loses theirs. And we–I–am going to take that chance.”

“Tomorrow the Dionysian heads for Vescent,” he said decisively. “Our main objective is to deliver someone you might recognize to where she needs to go.” He gestured to Leta. “But we’ve got people, we’ve got weapons and we’re pirates for fuck’s sake, so to hell if taxi service is all we’re gonna do. We’re gonna fight. We’re gonna make sure Leta gets there safe. And we’re gonna win.”

There was a general murmur of excitement and interest around the room. The crew glanced around at one another, shuffled in their seats, muttered their thoughts, but they died off as quickly as they’d started.

“Tomorrow,” Fiearius said again, his voice more hesitant this time. “The Dionysian takes a step forward it can’t turn back from. Tomorrow, we’re starting a war against the Society. Some of you have no qualm with the Society. Some have even more cause to hate them than me. But this could be an extensive campaign. I’ve made my decision and this ship’s in it for the long haul. Til the very end, whatever that end may be. If you want no part in this, speak up now. We can have you put on another ship and taken wherever you need to go. No problem.

“But. Regardless of your history with the Society, we all saw what they’re capable of this week. And I don’t think anyone in this room can doubt that they need to be put down. Tomorrow the Dionysian goes to war. But she’s nothing without her crew. I ask that you stand with me. One more time. Stand with me and we can end this. Stand with me and we can change the Span. Stand with me and let’s make this shitty old rustbucket part of history.”

The mess hall went up in a cheer of fervor. Rhys let out a whooping yell. Eve jumped to her feet and seized the captain in a crushing hug. And despite herself, Leta couldn’t stop from beaming at Fiearius as he joyously rallied his crew around him. As soon as she realized, she wiped the grin off her face lest anyone see, but perhaps it was too late. When she looked back up, she found Fiearius watching her, a smile of his own lighting his face. A cocky one. He raised a knowing brow at her and she frowned good-naturedly in response, crossing her arms over her chest.

Relenting, she made her way towards the thinning crowd around him as they presumably moved off to engage in one of their traditional Dionysian celebrations.

“Nice speech,” she remarked dryly as he finally wrenched Eve away from him and turned towards her.

“Liked it, huh?” he asked. “Knew you would.”

Leta just rolled her eyes. “Listen–I’d really like to go over the map with you one more time, make sure we–”

But Fiearius was no longer paying attention. “Richelle!” he called out to the young brunette as she wandered towards the kitchen. She glanced back at him in surprise to hear her name and turned their way. Despite her rather…odd induction onto the ship, Leta couldn’t help but like the girl. She’d certainly grown a lot amongst the crew and now, it was difficult to believe the circumstances of her first day aboard had even happened.

“Need something capitaine?” she asked cheerfully.

Fiearius jutted his thumb towards Cyrus who was still silently sulking behind him. “I hear this guy’s been giving you engine lessons, huh?”

“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. “Thrice a week.” She smiled proudly. “I absolutely love it. Who knew?”

Fiearius hardly seemed to be paying attention to her answer. “He says you’re a natural at it.” Richelle beamed. “How confident do you feel about manning it alone?”

The beaming stopped instantly.

Cyrus, who perhaps hadn’t been listening at all before, was suddenly tuned in. “Wait–what?” he demanded, stalking forwards into the circle.

But Fiearius spoke over him. “You think you could handle it on the trip to Vescent and back?”

Richelle glanced between the two brothers nervously. “Well–Alone? I don’t know if I’d–”

“What are you talking about?” Cyrus snapped. “I can’t–she’s not ready to–”

“We can get Cy set up with a COMM to keep in touch from the station,” Fiearius explained calmly.

Cyrus was anything but calm. “The station? You’re leaving me here?!”

Truthfully Leta wasn’t at all sure of what was going on, but it certainly seemed as though Fiearius had simply lost his mind. Cyrus had always run the engine on the Dionysian. The ship didn’t move without him. “Fiear,” she muttered, “is that a good idea?”

Fiearius ignored her and put a hand on his sibling’s shoulder affectionately. “Cy, Addy needs you right now. You have a responsibility to her first, so yeah. I’m leaving you here.” He patted him firmly. “Besides, you’re in no shape for this kind of operation and you know it.”

Cyrus was dumbstruck. “But–But the Dionysian–”

“Will be fine without you,” Fiearius assured him. “If you can, take Richelle down to the engine and give her one last lesson of yours. It’s a simple trip with the possibility of a little tiny bit of maneuvering involved. She’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.” He grinned at the both of them. “Get to it.” And then added to Leta as he turned to walk away, “Maps, you said? Maps. Great. Let’s do it.”

Leta felt a tad shell-shocked, but not nearly as much as Cyrus and Richelle looked. They stared at each other in worry and, in Cyrus’ case, exasperation as Leta hurried down the hall after the captain, feeling perplexed. Funny, she couldn’t help but think. Chasing after Fiearius in a state of confusion before a horribly dangerous mission? It felt just like old times.

Hiding. But the words dried up in his mouth when he came to look at Addy. Even in the dim light, he could see sudden raw pain shining in her eyes.

“What is it?” he pressed, stepping towards her. “Is it Finn? Is everything alright?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” she replied softly. “No, it’s not Finn, I haven’t heard anything new. It’s … are you avoiding me?” she added suddenly, and his mouth fell open.

“N — no! No of course not. I mean–okay, maybe a little, but it’s not you. I’m just avoiding — well, everything. I’m sorry, Gods, I’m so sorry, I’m–” He knotted a hand into his hair. “I’m kind of a mess right now.”

She nodded, just once. “Archeti.”

He dug his palms into his temples. “Every time I close my eyes…” He glanced up at her, sure that he looked just as desperate and pathetic as he felt. “I’m not avoiding you, really. Gods, I would never.”

He hoped the storm would clear from Addy’s face. But instead, she continued to gaze at him, looking thunderstruck and shaky, and Cyrus could sense it: danger was looming.

“I need to talk to you about something,” she said at last, an odd tremble in her voice. “You might want to sit down.”

Cyrus’ chest seized up. As he sank to the edge of the bed, he knew what was coming: she was done with him. The long distance thing was never going to work out. Or maybe the past few days without him made her realize she just didn’t care for him after all. Or worse, she just didn’t want to be with someone who’d caused a genocide.

They were all valid reasons and he was holding his breath waiting for which she chose when she sat down beside him and said only two words.

“I’m pregnant.”

Like an icy wind, silence descended over the room. Addy gazed at his face, waiting for him to say something. White noise was filling his brain, and all he managed was, “You’re what?”

————-

With a long, torturous yawn, Fiearius lifted himself to his feet, stretching his arms over his head as he left the bridge alone. He’d spent the last few hours making final preparations for Leta, for Quin, for the other ships of his other allies he’d called in to assist. Everything was set. Everything was ready. Maybe tonight he’d manage to sleep for more than twenty minutes, but first he had to talk to his crew. They were all waiting in the mess hall.

He was about to head for the stairs when he found Cyrus was climbing down the ladder from his quarters. He hadn’t seen Cyrus since they’d landed on the station, and he forced cheer into his voice when he said, “Hey, lil brother.”

“Quiet,” was all Cyrus said, gesturing at the hatch above him. “Addy’s sleeping.”

Fiearius searched over his brother. Darkness circled his eyes, his hair was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled. His eyes were glazed, like he was in a constant daze. Like he wasn’t even here, but just walking around in a dream.

“Have you been sleeping?” he asked, continuing down the hall and gesturing he follow.

Cyrus fell into step beside him. “No.”

Fiearius waited for a typical Cyrus-style explanation or justification, but he received none. Not that he needed one. He knew what was plaguing him.

“Cy, it wasn’t your fault,” he insisted. “It wasn’t you who killed those people.”

Cyrus didn’t even skip a beat. “But it was me who built the device that did it,” he said simply, his tone flat. Clearly, he’d had this conversation in his head many times before.

“But not you who used it.”

Cyrus shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. The whole thing was my idea. If I’d never pitched Nautilus, Archeti would still be there.” He said it with such even confidence, like there were no other facts in the Span as true as these, that Fiearius barely even knew how to fight him on it.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. Fiearius took him by shoulder, pulling him to a stop.

“Cy, how could you have known how that would end up? You pitched something you thought would help people. You never meant it to be used this way.”

Cyrus’ stare was hollow and unending. “Good intentions don’t negate fault, Fiearius,” he muttered coldly. “You, of all people, should know that.”

The words felt like a knife in the chest, especially from Cyrus, but Fiearius forced himself to overlook them. His brother was going through something horrible. The last thing he needed was a fight. So instead, he said simply, “What I know is what it’s like to be used by the Society.”

Cyrus grew quiet and looked away. And then suddenly he asked, “How’s Finn?”

Fiearius had been trying not to think about his best friend and how he was likely laying on his deathbed. He’d visited once only to be shooed away by medics and told there was no news. He’d just have to trust Finn to pull through in the meantime.

“Not good.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“He’s not dead yet,” said Fiearius with wry amusement. Eager to change the subject to something lighter than death, he added, “How’s Addy doing?”

It wasn’t immediately apparent that his plan had backfired. But then Cyrus looked up at him, still with those same dazed, wide eyes, took a deep breath and said, “Oh, she’s pregnant.”

Fiearius felt his jaw practically hit the floor. Cyrus regarded him, unenthused. “Yeah that was pretty much my reaction too,” he pointed out.

“She’s — is it yours?” Fiearius finally managed to ask.

Cyrus scowled. “Of course it’s mine.” Then he let out a crazed, tortured laugh and started to walk away down the hall. “First I’m a mass murderer, now I’m going to be a father. Funny, isn’t it.”

Fiearius found himself too stunned to even follow after him. Cyrus. Knocked someone up.

But at last he forced his legs forward and followed after his brother. Cyrus went on, “We figured out when it happened, y’know.” His voice had been empty before, but now there was a slight manic edge to it that made Fiearius nervous. “The second time we had sex. Which was the morning after the first time. One night. That’s all it took. Twice.”

Fiearius frowned. “Technically all it takes is once.”

But Cyrus wasn’t listening. “Most people — most people seem able to, y’know, date someone for a while, maybe move in together, consider marriage and then have children. It’s a process. It makes sense. But me? No. No, of course, I get a long-distance girlfriend for two months and skip a few steps right to the end.”

“It happens,” Fiearius muttered, but Cyrus almost seemed like he wasn’t even in the same room anymore, like he was a madman talking to himself. Fiearius grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. He looked over at him as though just realizing he was there. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Am I alright?” Cyrus repeated faintly, clearly growing more and more hysterical. “Am I alright? Am I–? No! No, I’m not alright!” he cried, with a fresh bout of frenzy that was shocking to hear. His features marred with disgust and disbelief. “No, I am not alright! I destroyed a planet full of people, Fiearius! I haven’t slept in days! I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I can’t focus. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come to terms with it! And then! Then! Just to add onto my plate of fun, I’m going to be a dad! A dad! Me! I just spent the last hour telling my girlfriend that everything will be alright and we’ll work it out and it’s all fine while she wept on me until she fell asleep. But it’s not fine! What the fuck am I gonna do?! I don’t know how to raise a kid!”

The sheer desperation in his voice was alarming. It was a rare sight to see Cyrus so very worked up. And it was a sight Fiearius didn’t find comforting in the slightest. “Cy,” he began, trying to mend it, “Look, it’s not–”

“I don’t even like kids!” Cyrus yelled, digging both hands into his hair. “I mean, yeah maybe I thought I might have one eventually, but now? Now? Now, when we’ve basically just started a damn war.”

“Cy –” Fiearius tried again.

“And what about Addy? We’re not even on the same ship, how are we going to have a baby?! Do we get a house somewhere? Should I marry her?” Finally, Cyrus seemed to realize Fiearius was still standing there. He looked over at him, panic in his eyes. “Shouldn’t I marry her?”

Fiearius grimaced. This whole scene was starting to seem a little familiar. Too familiar. “No. She needs your support, Cy, not a ceremony,” he answered evenly. Fiearius moved towards him and dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Alright listen. Do you love her?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do…”

“Good.” Fiearius patted him on the shoulder cheerfully. “Then you two’ll be fine.”

Cyrus looked up at him, dumbfounded. “What? How is that helpful?”

“Cy, no one is prepared to be a parent, you know that? Even the most prepared person isn’t prepared. But have you ever noticed that we’ve been figuring it out as a species for some hundreds of thousands of years?” Cyrus eyed him skeptically. “I was 22 when we had Denarian. You think I wasn’t terrified? You think I had any idea what I was doing? Of course not. But let me tell you, they put a baby in your arms and tell you to go take care of it? No matter how clueless you may be, you figure it out.”

“That’s your answer?” Cyrus deadpanned. “Instincts? Instincts will make everything okay.”

“Actually, yes,” Fiearius agreed. “Instincts and the fact that you are one of the smartest people in the damn span. And you’re having a baby with one of the other smartest people in the damn span.”

The hum was followed by screams as the ramp began to lift. Fiearius stepped forward through the crowd and started shouting. “There’s no more room! I’m sorry! Find another ship! Find a shuttle! Get out of the city!” he called, but his voice was lost amongst the panic.

Cyrus tried to look away as the division between those that would live through the night and those that would not widened, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He absorbed every inch of the image, the outstretched hands, the sobbing faces, the clambering bodies as they struggled to stay on the right side of the line. He had to see. This was his doing. He had to look.

And suddenly, he was very glad he did.

Amongst the despairing faces, there was one that suddenly stood out to him. One that was familiar. His heart stopped in his chest as he caught sight of it right before the lifting ramp blocked it from his sight.

Corra.

“Stop!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Stop!”

Fiearius had been forced away from him, but nothing, not people not the quakes, could stop Cyrus from reaching his brother and shaking his arm furiously. “Stop! Corra’s out there!”

Fiearius’ eyes widened and at once, he signaled to Leta. Thank the gods, she got the message. The ramp stopped rising and before Cyrus even knew what was happening, he and his brother were sprinting out to the edge of it to look down at the sea of people below.

“There!” Cyrus shouted, finding her face again, now sobbing with relief. Or was that relief? An arm was hung around her neck, but it was loose, unmoving.

“It’s Finn!” she called up to them, still being jostled by the ground and the crowd. “He’s hurt! It’s — it’s bad — “

Cyrus caught Fiearius’ eye and the both of them laid down on their stomachs and reached down to her below them. With all of her might, Corra heaved Finn’s body towards them until they could each seize one of his arms and lift his unconscious form onto the ramp. As soon as they’d laid him flat, it was clear exactly what she’d meant by ‘badly hurt.’ His entire front side was soaked in blood, his face was pale, Cyrus wasn’t even sure if he was breathing.

But there wasn’t time to examine him. He reached down again, this time, lifting Corra upwards until she was able to crawl onto the relative safety of her ship. She too was covered in blood, though it didn’t seem to be hers. Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed and she looked like she’d just seen a ghost. Or a hundred ghosts…

“What happened?” demanded Leta who had materialized at Finn’s side and was checking his pulse. Corra didn’t seem able to answer. “We need to get him to the infirmary, there’s not a lot of time,” Leta went on and within instants, the man was hoisted over her and Fiearius’ shoulders, a gun was in Fiearius’ hand to clear the path and they were on their way.

“Get it closed and get her in the air!” Fiearius shouted to Cyrus over his shoulder and he didn’t need telling twice. Scrambling to his feet, he bolted towards the ramp controls and started them up again. Corra, dazed and confused, hurried after him.

“What’s going on, Cy?” she asked, out of breath. “What’s happening out there?”

He almost didn’t want to tell her. Whatever she’d been through today, he could see quite plainly on her face that it was enough. Did he want to add that a machine she had inadvertently enabled was now destroying the very city, maybe even the whole planet, that they were docked on?

But she’d find out eventually. “It’s Nautilus,” he informed her solemnly. All the color drained from her face.

When Cyrus headed off towards the bridge in the path Fiearius, Leta and Finn had left, she did not follow.

————–

Cyrus’ stumbling sprint through the Beacon showed just how crammed full of refugees she was. People lined the walls of every hallway, filled every room and spilled out of the larger bays, not rioting like their comrades in the cargo bay, but quietly despairing as they resigned themselves to their fate. The only place that was not swarming was the bridge, where Cyrus couldn’t help but pause in the doorway when he arrived.

Cyrus had always seen Quin as a woman who was fearless, unwavering, untouchable. But now, she sat defeated in one of the pilot’s chairs, her face in her hands while Alyx kneeled before her, clasping the woman’s shoulder in encouragement. It was a strange thing (Cyrus wasn’t even sure they’d met before), but hardly strange compared to the view behind them.

He could see it now. Nautilus. The great arching shape of the ship he recognized all too well peeked out from above the crumbling skyline. Its massive metal supports, its graceful curving lines and the green glowing beam of destruction spouting out from below it, mowing down everything in its path. Once upon a time, he’d dreamed of a day he’d see Nautilus in action, but in creation. Not like this. Never like this.

He tore his eyes away. “We’re ready to go,” he said hastily, grasping onto the doorframe as the ship lurched again. At once, Alyx released Quin’s shoulder and stepped back, looking over at Cyrus in alarm.

“The captains?” she asked.

“They’re aboard,” Cyrus confirmed as he swung himself into the pilot’s seat.

“W-well where are they?” Alyx demanded, staggering towards him and holding onto the console for support. “Can you fly this thing? Where’s Finn?”

Cyrus glanced at her only briefly. “In the infirmary,” he muttered and her face went white. Cyrus hit the COMM button. “Addy, you there?”

“Cy!” came the voice on the other end of the line. “Yes! Yeah, I’m here, what’s going on up there, are–”

“No time, the engine’s ready to go?” he cut her off as Alyx fell back into her seat.

“Yeah, she’s fired up,” Addy answered nervously. “Cy, is everything–”

“It’s fine,” he answered before she asked, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. “We just need to go…”

Cyrus put his hand on the controls. He wasn’t sure if the shaking was from the ground or simply his own hands, but he struggled to grip the take-off thruster. And then he found his eyes being drawn across the room to Quin who was watching him with the face of a statue. She wasn’t crying. In fact, she had no emotion on her face at all, her eyes stony, her mouth terse. He met her stare for a long, heavy moment until finally, she looked away.

He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, but he let it all out as he pulled back the thrust. The ship vibrated even more intensely for a moment, but then stopped vibrating entirely as she pulled away from the shuddering ground. She rose up and up and as Cyrus carefully monitored her systems lest her great weight be pulled by the thrashing atmosphere around her, he couldn’t resist taking one more look at his greatest and worst creation as it soared into view. As she lifted, Quin rose to her feet and moved to the bay window where she could look out upon her home. One last time.

They had reached the upper atmosphere when Fiearius ran in. He slowed to a disjointed stop in the center of the bridge and stood staring at the scene before him in quiet awe. As the ship made the final push out into the smooth edge of space, Cyrus released the controls and stood up. Alyx, too, was compelled to her feet. And slowly Fiearius moved to join Quin at the window where, without even looking at him, she reached out and clutched his arm with a shaking hand as the green and black clouds of Nautilus swallowed up Archeti for good.

“We can’t–” Cyrus began again, but this time she physically lunged at him. Fortunately, Fiearius grabbed her arm and held her back.

“Let go, Soliveré!” Quin raged. “I swear I’ll–”

“It’s not his fault, Quin, don’t–” Fiearius argued.

“If we stay here, we’ll all die–” said Cyrus.

But then Leta’s voice, calm and steady, broke out above the argument. “Alyx, the Beacon’s not at capacity, is it?”

Alyx shook her head. “Not even close.” Realization dawned on her face. “We can fit another hundred at least, maybe even two.”

Quin finally stopped struggling in Fiearius’ grip. “Evacuate…?” she muttered in disbelief.

Leta nodded. “We’ll grab as many evacuees as we can fit, put them anywhere there’s space. If we can’t bring down this terraformer, if we can’t save the city, we can at least save as many of these people as possible.”

Alyx turned to the console. “I can hail the other ships docked and encourage them to do the same.”

“I’ll go get the engine fired up so she’ll be ready to go,” Addy offered, taking one last glance at Cyrus and hurrying from the room.

“What about the allies in the cargo bay?” said Fiearius suddenly and both Alyx and Leta looked at him in confusion. He blinked back at them. “I don’t know,” he snapped. “There are a bunch of allies in the cargo bay, Corra didn’t say why. That curly-haired guy is down there right now letting them go.”

Alyx just shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Keep ‘em here, whatever, just fill the ship.” She hit the COMM and started speaking into it. “Hello? Y’saris? This is the Beacon–”

Cyrus tuned out as Leta and Fiearius shared a look and ran out the door, presumably to go round up people to cram into the ship. Quin, whose anger seemed to have devolved into pure shock and despair, couldn’t tear herself from the room and simply stared out the window as Nautilus approached, taking her beloved city down.

Cyrus watched the back of her head for what was probably minutes but felt like hours. Finally, he couldn’t bear to be in the same space as her any longer, his shame burning at all his edges and his guilt at his core. He turned for the door and headed off to help.

—————

Arleth Morgan was seated alone in the comfort of his dimly-lit office, watching the feedback from Archeti scroll down his screen when the call from his fellow Councillors came in. He took his time in readjusting himself in his chair and squashing the butt of his cigar in the ashtray before he hit connect.

“I trust the operation is proceeding as planned?” asked the voice of the Satieran Councillor almost at once.

The Vescentian Councillor grinned. “Of course. Genisi will be dust before nightfall. The rest of Archeti by morning.”

“I have to hand it to you, Councillor,” said the Ellegian woman with some measure of skepticism. It was rarely missing from her tone these days. “I was doubtful of the decision to entrust Nautilus with Vescent, but this was quite an impressive motion from the likes of you.”

“From you, madam, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Morgan replied.

The Ascendian spoke up. “I understand the need to test the device, but I have to wonder, why did you choose Archeti? It bears no strategic power. It’s a dump.”

“Which is exactly why it’s perfect,” guessed the Satieran. “We lose nothing in its destruction. We send a warning to those who would oppose us, but make no sacrifices in the process. No one will miss that rock, but once Carthis or Paraven or any of our enemies see Nautilus’ power wrought upon it? They will do everything within their power to avoid becoming it. Is that not your reasoning, Councillor?”

Arleth Morgan let out a grim chuckle that his fellows probably couldn’t hear. “It is,” he answered, but it wasn’t the whole truth, was it? Of course, strategically, sending Nautilus to Archeti was, as the Satieran said, an ideal choice for the success of the Society as a whole. But while Morgan of course cared for their continued prosperity, he had a personal goal of his own to achieve. His eyes ventured across the room to a wall scattered with images of a girl. A girl who just so happened to be on Archeti at that very moment.

His fellow Councillors did not need to know that Leta Adler’s arrival had been inspiration for Nautilus’ timing. They had disapproved of his efforts to eliminate her before. But now that their goals just happened to coincide with his? Arleth grinned to himself. No harm in that.

————–

The Beacon’s cargo bay was swarming with people and panic. Everywhere Cyrus looked there were families crying, children screaming, desperate souls pushing through the crowd searching for lost love ones. It didn’t help that the quaking had grown so vigorous that it was getting difficult to stay upright. The crowd in the bay swayed and stumbled over one another.

Cyrus himself struggled to force his way through, nearly tripping on a wailing three-year-old and running straight into man whose tear-streaked face turned on him in horror. Hastily apologizing, Cyrus pressed forward, slipping through what little empty space there was and trying to stay afloat as he hopefully headed towards the right destination.

Finally, thankfully, he saw the flash of red hair he was looking for and a few moments later, heard the voice that paired with it.

“Look, you can go grab whatever or whoever you want, but I can’t guarantee we’ll still be here when you get back,” Fiearius was shouting over the crowd of people staring at him with pleading eyes.

“But my father!” a woman wailed at him. “I have to get my father!”

Fiearius’ face twisted into a pained grimace. “I know, I know and I’m sorry, but–” He gestured out the bay door at the city beyond. It was the middle of the afternoon, but the sky was pitch black with clouds save for the eerie green light. Some of the older buildings had started to collapse with the quakes. Long, ever-deepening cracks could be seen stretching across the ground. The city was crumbling. “We can’t stay much longer…I’m sorry.”

A general outcry of protest erupted, but Fiearius looked away from them just as Cyrus arrived at his side, grasping his brother’s arm to keep himself from falling forward in a particular violent shake.

“Ship’s full, we can’t take on many more,” he shouted over the noise and Fiearius nodded grimly, staring down the ramp at the crowd of people still pushing to try and board. Cyrus glanced down at them, but couldn’t bear to look for long. Instead he asked, “Any sign of Finn and Corra?”

Fiearius shook his head and Cyrus felt a spike of worry. The quakes had started over a half hour ago. Surely they’d felt them too, wherever they were. They should have been back by now.

Just then, Leta appeared beside them. Her expression didn’t give him much hope either. “It’s no use, I’ve asked everyone on crew, no one knows where this Callahan guy might be or where we could even begin to look for them. Not even Quin.”

Fiearius ran his hand through his hair. “Shit…”

Cyrus’ spike of panic deepened. “You think something happened to them?”

Fiearius met his eyes solemnly, but didn’t answer. Leta spoke over him. “They’ll be back,” she said firmly. “They’ll be back soon.”

Just then, the ship gave a tremendous shake, nearly knocking the entire bay off their feet. A great collective scream rose as those on the ramp put in a massive push forward, desperate to get aboard. Those already in the bay started to shout in protest. Further back, a cry went out, “We have to take off!” which only incited more tumult. “There’s no more room!” shouted another. “We can’t take any more! We have to leave!”

The air became a cacophony of voices. Angry, desperate, pleading and afraid. And for good reason. Their time was up.

Another violent shake overtook the ship and Cyrus barrelled forward into a woman who was screaming at the top of her lungs. He staggered backwards, but the ground was rocking like a boat on choppy water. He could barely get a foothold and he could feel himself giving way to the pressure of the masses around him. A shoulder rammed his chin, an elbow stabbed his stomach and someone’s flailing forearm hit him square in the forehead. This was it. He was going to be sucked down to the floor and trampled to death by the people whose lives his own invention had endangered. It was fitting, really.

But suddenly he felt a firm hand seize his arm and drag him skywards. Gasping in a deep breath, Cyrus looked over at his brother who was shouting, but he could barely hear him among the din. “We can’t stay here!” was all he made out. He turned to Leta. “Close the ramp!”

Leta stared at him in horror. But Fiearius was right, Cyrus realized. They couldn’t stay. They couldn’t save everyone. Corra’s face flickered into his mind, but he had to force it out. Leta had somehow managed to reach the ramp controls and the familiar hum rose under their feet.