Tag Archives: prose

Chapter 47: Giving In Pt. 2

Corra raised an eyebrow in concerned. “You alright over there, chika?”

“I don’t — I don’t know,” said Leta honestly. “I don’t think so.”

Leta stepped fully into the room, closing the hatch behind her as she lowered to the edge of Corra’s bed slowly. Corra perched on a rug on the floor, scooted towards her, curious and eager.

“Something happened last night.” Leta swallowed. “Between Fiearius and I.”

Immediately straightening up in defense, Corra looked suspicious. “What kind of something?”

The words were met with a heavy silence. The moment Leta muttered, “he kissed me,” Corra’s eyes went round.

“He what?!”

“Well — we kissed. It wasn’t just him. We both did.”

“Wait, what?” Corra gasped. “Explain. What happened?”

Leta pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “I couldn’t sleep last night. I had to ask him something — ” When Corra flashed her a perplexed look, Leta went on,” — about the deal with Dez. He was in his room, I went up there, and then we started talking. About nothing. And everything.” Her chest clenched, but whether it was out of trepidation or tenderness, she couldn’t be sure. “And one thing led to another and we kissed.”

Corra blinked her eyes slowly, at a loss for words. “I’m confused. Why would you–you wanted to kiss him?”

A long, telling silence followed. Corra seemed to interpret it and her eyes widened even more. “So what does that–does that mean–” Slowly, she looked up at her, the most subtle of curious smiles starting to form on her face. “Do you have, ya know…feelings for him?”

No, said the voice in Leta’s head at once. No, of course not. Fiearius was crude, loud, arrogant and selfish. He got her into trouble more than he ever got her out of it. And she was engaged. She’d made a commitment to someone who was kind, generous, thoughtful …

But the words in her mind did not match the words that she exhaled weakly.

“I think maybe I do.”

Corra’s mouth fell open out of shock — and also, Leta realized, some kind of delight.

“Oh man, really?” she breathed in excitement, as if this were the most juicy piece of gossip she’d ever heard.

“But I — I don’t know,” said Leta quickly. “This is bad, Corra, and honestly? I’m probably just acting out of loneliness. I haven’t seen Ren in … “

“You know, I had a feeling he had a thing for you,” Corra went on briskly, ignoring her, “but I didn’t think it was mutual. I guess I shoulda seen it coming though, the way you two act and all.”

Was that supposed to be reassuring? That meant people had noticed the particular way she and Fiearius exchanged sidelong looks at dinner. The particular way they laughed at one another and then yelled at each other seconds later. The particular way she battled feelings of envy — actual, horrible envy — when she glimpsed him flirting with women in bars.

Guilt churned Leta’s stomach, and she put her face in her hands.

“How long’s this been going on?” Corra demanded suddenly. “And why didn’t you tell me?”

Leta could only guess. “Because I didn’t want it to be true?”

“Yeah, can’t say I understand your taste much…” Corra muttered, smiling. But the smile faded. “But what about Ren?”

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“Corra, I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” Leta breathed fiercely into her hands. “I miss Ren so much. I don’t know why I’m — why this is happening. And I don’t know what to do about it, except pretend this never happened.”

“Aw, hey, c’mon,” said Corra gently, getting up to sit beside Leta and leaning her head on her shoulder. “It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’ve just had a real crazy year. I mean, you’re on a pirate ship in the middle of nowhere, you’ve been shot at, captured, this ship could go down any minute and to top it all off, you’re here because you lost your fiance. I’m pretty sure anybody with even the tiniest of hearts could forgive you for getting a little emotionally confused.”

Leta mustered a watery sad smile. “I think you’re going a little easy on me, considering I just technically cheated on my fiance.” She pressed her fingers against her eyes, willing away the scene entirely. “I just really shouldn’t care about Fiearius like this.”

At that, Corra murmured thoughtfully, then decided, “Yeah probably not, he’s kind of a jerk,” and cracked a mischievous grin. After a pause, she tilted her head. “So what’re ya gonna do?”

With an enormous effort, Leta slid her hands from her face. “Same as before,” she breathed. “This thing with Fiearius — whatever it is — it can’t change anything. I’m going to get Ren back.”

“Yeah?” Corra offered an encouraging smile that faded just as quickly as it had come. “Does Fiear know that?”

“I’ll tell him if I have to,” said Leta quietly, hoping very much she wouldn’t need to. “It’s always been this way. It’s why I stayed aboard, he knows that. It’s not as if — it’s not like I’m picking Ren over him, it isn’t like that.”

Corra grimaced. “He might not see it that way…”

“Well he has to. I’m engaged.” Leta forced her expression to harden, although she crumbled almost at once. “Gods, I shouldn’t even be thinking about this — or about him — “

“Hey, no,” Corra scolded at once. “It’s okay. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Ya can’t help the way you feel. And you guys have been through a lot together. Can’t fault ya for getting a little swept up in it.”

Leta didn’t want to admit it, but after a long, worried pause, she confessed, “I think I’m a lot swept up in it.”

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

“No, that’s definitely the only other entry.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Cyrus stared up at his brother blankly. “I’ve been reading ship blueprints since I was six. I’m sure.”

Fiearius cast him an annoyed glance before rolling his eyes and deciding not to care about Cyrus’ attitude for the time being. The judgy glares his little brother had been giving him since he’d learned to walk were bad enough. He didn’t also need the snarky know-it-all demeanor. As if everything else wasn’t enough.

“Thank you, little brother, for your expert opinion,” he barked, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the metal wall.

Cyrus, however, was unapologetic. “You’re welcome,” he replied bluntly. “I’m serious though.” He started drawing lines around the blueprints with his finger as he spoke. “They’ve got this hangar that’s big enough and versatile enough to accommodate any needs they might have, they don’t need a ton of entry points. Anything that comes in, comes in through there. These hatches,” he circled five more points on the map, “are only there to satisfy emergency protocols. They’re probably sealed shut from the inside and even if they’re not, there’s no way you, on your ship or any ship can reach it. This whole section right here,” another drawn line over the screen, “Visibility points. Even with a cloaking device, they’ll just look out the window and our cover’s blown.” He grimaced thoughtfully and looked back at the screen. “They’ve really got this place locked down…How has anyone else broken out?”

Fiearius sighed and gazed at the screen emptily, an image he’d spent far too long staring at over the past few weeks and one he’d probably be staring at even longer for the upcoming ones.

“They haven’t,” he replied shortly. At Cyrus’ look of surprise, he went on, “Not since the modern ships. Not a single breakout. Across the board. Totally clean.”

Cyrus frowned. “I can see why…” he muttered, sparing one last glance at the prints.

“It’s impossible,” Fiearius told him expressionlessly, utterly numbed to the concept by now.

“Have you told her that?” was his little brother’s quiet, hesitant response. The hard look of defeat Fiearius gave in return said it all. Cyrus frowned up at him and sighed, “You need to tell her.”

At once, Fiearius shook his head. “No.”

His frown flattened into annoyance. “No?” he repeated bluntly.

“No,” Fiearius said again.

Chapter 47: Giving In

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It was a single four letter word that greeted Fiearius’ tired and hungover mind that morning as he rolled over in bed and laid eyes on the empty whiskey bottle on his floor.  So last night had actually happened then, he realized slowly. Leta had actually spent a good part of the night sharing drinks with him and a small part of the night sharing something else. Sometimes her presence was so frustrating, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill her or kiss her.

Last night, it seemed, he’d finally given into the latter.

By the time he lowered into the hallway, some twenty minutes of shame and guilt later, their shared bottle of whiskey was in shards littered across the floor and Fiearius was sure he could fix this. Continue reading

Chapter 46: Cheap Gin and Low-Grade Explosives Pt. 2

“There had better be a good explanation for this, Cordova,” greeted the steely cold voice from the console speakers in the bridge. Desophyles leaned back in the pilot’s seat of his ship, examining the small black sphere of the Caelum Lex in his hand. He had one ear turned to the speakers patiently as other voices chimed into the meeting.

“To come so close to your target and to, yet again, allow him to escape,” said another man, full of ice. “We’re growing weary of this pattern.”

“You swore to us that you could handle this hunt,” spit out a woman, another member of the Council. “And yet four years have gone by and you’re still coming back empty-handed. Perhaps its time to reconsider your assignment.”

It wasn’t the first time the Council had threatened to reassign him. They had often considered the notion, but each time, they had come to the same conclusion: if anyone could catch Soliveré, it would be Dez. So far, he had not been successful.

But that would change. Soon.

Calm and formal, Dez replied, “I’m not empty-handed.”

“Yes, this…device you mentioned in your message,” the first voice went on, “Presumably you saw it within your rights to decide that this…thing…is worth more than the stolen property in Soliveré’s possession?”

“Of course not,” Dez told them simply. “But this ‘thing’ is a Caelum Lex, the missing piece in building a new terraformer. The only one in existence. The things we can use it for–”

“ — are not nearly as important as getting back what we’ve already lost,” interrupted one of the voices nastily. “You have one assignment, Cordova, and that is to retrieve Soliveré alive and return him to Satieri. It is not to independently collect assets you deem significant. Retrieve Soliveré. Return him. That’s it.”

Dez restrained the urge to bite back. He put his forehead in his hand, thankful that they couldn’t see him through the screen. “Which I am doing,” he said. “Acquiring the Caelum Lex was just a side effect of the plan.”

“Oh so you actually have a plan?” one of the voices snapped. “We were beginning to think you just enjoy wasting our time.”

“I have a plan,” Dez confirmed, ignoring the slight. “The girl.” Absently, he glanced over to another screen where an image of the Vescentian doctor glowed on the screen beside a list of records. “She’s the key. She’s his weakness.”

“What do you mean,” spat an impatient voice, “‘his weakness?”

“He’ll risk a lot it seems for her wellbeing. Lets down his defenses even. I can use that. I can use her.”

“Well for your sake, I hope you’re right,” said the voice bitingly. “This is your last chance, Cordova. Bring him back.”

The COMM system switched off as the Council disconnected one by one. In the silence that followed, Dez smirked in the darkness, still watching the image of the girl curiously. “Yes, sir.”

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

“One: When I was a teenager,  I got too high, thought I was a trapeze artist in an opera and jumped off the balcony,” Fiearius was saying easily, leaning back on one hand as he swung a leg over the edge of his bed. “Broke a dozen bones in my body.”

Mid-drink of whiskey, Leta nearly choked on her laughter. “You what?

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“Two,” Fiearius went on briskly, reaching over her lap to snatch the bottle from her hands, “I threatened to kill my high school principal’s prized show dog if he told my parents I hadn’t been attending for two years. And three: before I bought the Dionysian, I had never been off-world nor stepped on a ship of any kind.” He smiled proudly and tilted the whiskey bottle toward her face. “Guess away.”

As it were, Leta wasn’t particularly good at Two Truths and a Lie, although they’d been at it for a half hour now. It was the only drinking game Leta knew and she was failing, wonderfully and miserably, as the whiskey bottle dwindled between them.

“The uh — last one?” she guessed. “Is that last one a lie? Although I hope it’s the one about the show dog. You’ve done a lot of terrible things, but that’s got to be the worst.”

“I’m sorry, your answer is incorrect. Drink.” Satisfied in his victory of stumping her, Fiearius smirked broadly. “Don’t worry, I didn’t kill the dog. Nor threaten to. Did steal it though.” He shrugged. “Pretty sure the little guy was happier with me regardless. Anyway,” he said quickly, “Your turn.”

Leta crossed her legs together and sat up straighter on his bed, giving a distinct, important clearing of her throat. “One, I was devotedly religious until I was about seventeen,” she offered, her voice even and measured. “Two, I was valedictorian of my high school. And three, I almost went to school to study literature but my dad threatened to cut me off.”

Fiearius’ mouth fell open and he jumped at an answer immediately. “You were not devoutly religious. Were not. Not possible.” But he leaned in close to study her face, more intently than he’d ever looked at her. “Well…maybe it’s possible…” he muttered, hesitant. “Valedictorian I can see. Literature I can see. But I cannot ever imagine you on your knees praying for anything. Nor do I want to. It’s far too passive for you.”

“Well you’re nearly there,” she began, trying to bite back her smile. “First of all, I was valedictorian. And I do enjoy literature. Aiden and I had a nice bookswap going for awhile,” she noted, remembering fondly. “And now I have his library left to go through … but, I never considered studying it really. So yes — I was, in fact, religious. Can you imagine if I walked into a chapel now? I’d be struck by lightning.”

Fiearius barked a laugh of understanding, which was prompt for Leta to glance sideways at him in surprise.

“You know,” she mused, “I thought you’d have a stronger opinion on religion. I thought you’d hate the idea of it.”

But Fiearius merely shrugged a shoulder. “Nah, I’m not the one who hates religion. That’s Cyrus. Thinks it causes people to be weak and stupid. Blind, he says. It’s probably true. But I don’t really see the problem. I don’t buy into the whole package myself, but if helps some people? Whatever. To each their own.”

Fiearius stared at his bare feet for a moment before he looked up. “Alright, this is fascinating, but it’s my turn.” He drew a deep breath as though preparing for a performance. “One, Dez and I joined a ballroom dancing club because we thought it would get us more women. Two, I’ve only ever had one truly steady relationship that lasted longer than a month. And three, I had a lisp when I was a kid.”

At that, Leta could only gaze at him in surprise. “You’re good at this game, this one’s even more difficult,” she acknowledged fairly. How much did she want to know about Fiearius, anyway? Sometimes when she learned about  him it made her realize, alarmingly, how similar they were; other times, it created miles of distance between them.

In this moment, Leta was determined to keep it light. “When you and I danced at that gala months ago … you were pretty good,” she deliberated, her head quirked sideways as she looked him over. “But maybe you’re a natural. And the relationship thing — you seem like an all-or-nothing kind of guy, so I might believe that one,” she remarked slowly, thinking briefly of his wife, though she did not allow her thoughts to settle there for long.

“But a month is so short,” she continued, almost wincing. “Is your attention span really that bad? And then the lisp one, maybe that’s true. Maybe you were made fun of for it and that’s why you were such a bully,” she commented, and because it was her, and because it was him, this was not an insult. She grinned. “Or maybe you’re just naturally aggressive. But — the relationship one?”

His laughter was loud and warm.

“Ballroom dance club? Really?” He scoffed. “You don’t know me at all. And a month is short,” he agreed with a shrug and then admitted sheepishly, “But yes, so is my attention span. Or perhaps my ability to be stable…”

After a brief introspective pause, he went on excitedly, as though almost proud of this story, “I did have a lisp though. That’s true. Which was a pain in the ass. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Satierans have an annoying habit of having s’s in their names. Fiearius, Cyrus, Desophyles. Couldn’t say ‘em. So I was just the weird kid with the lisp who couldn’t read. It was fantastic.”

Leta laughed. “Gods, it’s hard to imagine you even having a childhood. In my head you’ve always just been a science experiment,” she admitted, eyebrows raised. “One gone badly wrong. Like if a chemist mixed cheap gin and low-grade explosives.”

Perhaps now affected by the number of shots he’d taken, he burst into laughter at her summation of his contents and creation. “Damn. You’ve figured out my secret. I was so sure that making up stories about my youth would convince you of my humanity, but alas, the real truth is revealed.”  He heaved a mournful sigh. “Your turn again.”

“Alright. Here’s a good one. One — I didn’t have my first drink until I was nineteen. “Two, I was named after my mom. Three — I slept with one of my professors in college.”

She paused to let this sink in, and Fiearius arched his eyebrows, looking intrigued and impressed. He squinted at her face, as if it might reveal the right answer. But the longer he watched her — too long, really — the more that thoughtful stare faded and softened into something else.

At last he said, quietly, “I don’t get it.”

Chapter 45: Other Arrangements Pt. 3

“Fiear,” she prompted quietly, slipping a hand over his forearm and taking backwards steps to the ship.

But he resisted her pull. “What other arrangements?” he demanded to know. “What does that mean?”

Desophyles just smiled and Leta tugged at his arm again. “Fiear, let’s go — “

This time, he relented, stepping backwards with her although his manic stare was still locked onto his old friend. “What the hell are you playing at…” he muttered quietly.

“Always a pleasure seeing you, Fiearius,” he called after them as they retreated. “Safe travels. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again soon. Real soon.”

Even from a distance, Leta could see the unsettling smirk that twisted his lips. But she pushed it out of her mind as she hurried downstairs to the infirmary and opened the prized, treasured med kit, to begin treatment at last.

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

Hours later and a system away, as she hovered nervously in the shadow of a building, Corra couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder, satisfying her paranoia that someone from the ship had followed her. Fiearius, maybe — after all, he’d be wildly horrified, furious if he knew —

But it seemed there were only two people in this dark alleyway, for better or worse.

At last, Dez broke the silence.

“This is it?” he murmured, turning the small black sphere over in his hand, admiring it in the dim light.

Corra’s eyes shot back to him, every inch of her wishing she was elsewhere. Fiearius was right: this man was completely unnerving. He was so — silent. And cold. Soulless as a statue. Every careful and calculated move he made gave her the distinct desire to bolt for her life. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

Not until she had a promise.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she assured him breathlessly, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “That’s a Caelum Lex. Last in existence.” Dez turned it over in his hand once more, cool and thoughtful.

Meanwhile, Corra was riddled with nerves and desperate to get back to the ship before anyone noticed she’d been gone. Gods, what would Leta say, if she knew she was making a deal with this man? But it was for a good reason. Fiearius’ plan to run never would have worked. And where would the Dionysian be without him? Corra didn’t have a choice. Surely Leta would understand —

“So we’re good, right?” she added quickly, and at last, Dez’s dark eyes flicked up to hers.

But he said nothing. She pretended that stare didn’t cut straight through her defenses. She pretended she didn’t feel the wave of paranoia that she wouldn’t be leaving here alive. She pretended she wasn’t more scared than she’d ever been. And she pressed on, “You let Fiear go, I gave you the Caelum Lex, that’s what you agreed to, right?”

Silence hovered between them. Corra could feel her panic starting to mount. Should she have ran? But just as her feet started to mobilize, he finally spoke.

“Yes,” was all he said. “It is.”

Corra nodded weakly and abruptly turned away to get the hell out of there. But on the edge of the alleyway, something made her turn back. Uncomfortably, she met his stare and said, “Just…leave the Dionysian alone, alright? Please. Just let us be…”

The dark eyes didn’t move, but something about them seemed to change. Was he smirking? Whatever it was, it made the skin on the back of her neck prickle, and she hurried away into the street, her heart still pounding.

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Chapter 45: Other Arrangements Pt. 2

“Join the club,” Corra giggled. But her smile faded as she tilted her head. “What’d he do now?”

“He’s being an idiot,” she said bluntly. “He’s not listening to me at all.”

“What else is new.”

” — he’s going to get himself killed, probably,” Leta went on, “trying to do this thing — this deal — he’s planning on meeting Dez, if you can believe that — “

“Dez?!” Corra repeated at once, her eyes going wide. “Wait wait, is this the same Dez I’m thinking of? The creepy one with the dead eyes who’s been trying to kill us since before I even came aboard? That Dez? Why?!”

“He thinks he can help — help me with — getting information about Ren.”  Leta stumbled over her words, looking pained, and for one wild moment Corra thought Leta was lying to her. But that was nonsense. “And,” Leta breathed, “Fiear’s offering himself up as leverage — “

That, Corra didn’t find all that surprising. “Of course he is,” she grumbled. “Always loves to play the martyr…”

“He says he has a plan, but it’s not going to work.” Leta pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “But he doesn’t have anything else to offer Dez in turn. Nothing of value. Except his fucking life — “

Suddenly, Corra felt the weight of the Caelum Lex sitting heavily in her hand. Something of value. Her expression went blank as she considered it. Maybe the universe wasn’t telling her it was time after all. And maybe she wouldn’t be getting that ship as soon as she thought.

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

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Leta hissed sharply to Fiearius as he hit the controls to lower the cargo bay ramp.

“You don’t have to come,” Fiearius provided distractedly.

“Yeah right.” Leta crossed her arms, picking up a thread of sarcasm in spite of it all. “And let you have all the fun? Besides, this medicine is for me. If you’re going to die out there, I’d like to be there to watch.”

Fiearius glanced sideways in her direction, the corner of his mouth curving as if he wanted to smirk at her — one last time, perhaps. But the moment ended a second later: the heavy ramp creaked noisily to the ground with a final dull thud, metal meeting sand.

Miles and miles of desert sand stretched out before her eyes. Leta expected an empty landscape, but she was given reason to jolt in unpleasant surprise: about a hundred yards away stood the tall, solid figure of Dez, dressed in dark green and black, his Society insignia visible even from here. Behind him, his small jet-black ship was glinting in the sunlight.

“He’s here already?” Leta heard herself whisper, but Fiearius seemed not to hear her. His whole frame tensed, and his grip closed more tightly on the gun in his hand. Eyes set firmly on Dez, he started down the ramp, as if in a trance.

Walking at his side, Leta couldn’t help but recall the last time they’d encountered this man. The threat of Dez nearby had sent Fiearius — Fiearius, of all shortsighted, reckless people — into a panic. He’d grabbed her to make sure she was alright, and real fear had sparked in his eyes.

And now they were going to attempt a deal with him?

At least they had a plan, sort of: Cyrus was on call to ready the ship for an emergency take-off. Meanwhile, Corra and Finn had hidden themselves with long-range guns, waiting just in case Fiearius’ initial ‘turn and run like hell’ plan wasn’t as successful as he intended…

Hoping desperately it wouldn’t come to that, Leta stopped short in the sand and gazed over at Dez for the second time in her life.

Guns were readily strapped to his back and hip, looking every horrible inch the assassin he was, but in this moment he simply gazed curiously at Fiearius through squinted, narrowed eyes as he murmured curiously, “You made it.”

“Got the stuff?” Fiearius grunted. Dez said nothing. But he dug into the pocket of his trousers, slipped out a small med kit and held it out between them.

Leta couldn’t help it: as Fiearius passed over the kit for her examination, she exhaled sharply in shock and pried it open with a slightly shaky hand. Inside was an array of inhalers, syringes, the correct dosage of antibiotics …

“This is it,” she murmured, stunned that she was holding her own future in her hands. “This is — this is it, the right supply.”

Desophyles regarded her as she spoke, a hint of curiosity behind his cold eyes as he looked her up and down. “So it’s for her then,” he concluded. Slowly, he came back to watch Fiearius, looking bemused. “Interesting.”

“Is it?” barked Fiearius impatiently. His eagerness to leave was practically written all over him. And now was the time, wasn’t it? They had the medication, now was the moment to run, right? He wasn’t actually going to hold up his part of this deal.

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But something, it seemed, was keeping him rooted in place. The two men continued to regard one another, as if the weight of all their history held them there.

“I suppose not,” Dez relented absently. “You always would do anything for a pretty face, wouldn’t you?” he mused, inclining his head toward Leta, who looked up in shock.

“And you’d always do anything for a pat on the back,” Fiearius growled.

A long smile ran slowly across Dez’s face. “And look where that’s brought us.” He spread his hands at the empty desert landscape surrounding them. “The only question left is which of us is more pathetic. You, risking your freedom in trying to save this woman? Or me, leaving behind everything to hunt you for the Council? A pretty face or a pat on the back?” He raised a brow. “At least my end goal is obtainable.”

Fiearius’ stare hardened, but his tone was even as he said, “And obtained. Here I am. Your hunt is over. You must be thrilled.”

Dez nodded slowly, but his words didn’t match as he stated simply, “Not today.”

For a moment, Fiearius didn’t seem to know what to see. His mouth opened in disbelief until finally, he demanded,” What?” Leta saw his fist clench at his side. “We had a deal. You get us the medication, I let you drag me back to Satieri. That was what we said. That was what we agreed upon.”

Desophyles sighed thoughtfully and shook his head. “We did. But I made other arrangements.”

“Other — ?” Fiearius began, perplexed.

Leta held the med kit to her chest. What the hell was Dez doing? He was letting them go? Was it a trap?

“It’s been taken care of,” Dez assured him calmly. He nodded toward the Dionysian over their shoulders. “You’re free to go. And you don’t have to run. I assume that was your plan, correct? The snipers were a nice touch. Though not very well-hidden. What did you tell them? Shoot to kill or just to wound me?”

Was it possible Dez was letting them go freely? Leta didn’t want to wait to see what the endgame was.

Chapter 45: Other Arrangements

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“So you gonna tell me what it is or what?” Corra couldn’t help but ask as she sprawled out on a bench in the engine room and propped her chin in-hand. But Cyrus barely heard her question. He was busy at a console screen, firing at the keys rapidly, his eyes wide and excited, and it was obvious why.

On the desk beside him sat the round, black sphere Will had given Corra as a parting gift, glinting dully in the light — though by the way Cyrus kept babbling about the thing, it might as well have been a glistening jewel. For a few weeks, Corra had kept the mysterious object close to her, a small comfort; now, she decided it was finally time to see what it was for.

Leta had snorted and said it was most useful as a paperweight. But Will had told her it was much more important than that. He’d said the sphere held information somehow like an archaic hard drive that no one could read. Amazingly, he’d said it held a copy of the Caelum Lex. So naturally, she’d taken it to Cyrus. If anyone could access what was inside, it’d be him.

And really, she should have known he’d get all nerdy about it. Continue reading