Leta stopped in the hallway abruptly and Fiearius nearly plowed into her as she glared up at him. “Fiear…Why are you here?” she asked again, more sternly this time.

Fiearius  glanced at Cyrus and tilted his head, which was a message he seemed to understand. “Alright, we’re gonna go get settled in,” said Cyrus. “Guest quarters still in the same place?” he asked as he took Kalli’s hand from Leta’s.

“Yeah, just tell the cadet on duty who you’re with, they’ll find a place for you,” Leta assured them, her eyes on Fiearius.

As they walked away, Cyrus leaned down to add to his daughter, “And then maybe we’ll look into sledding,” which made the little girl shriek in excitement and put a smile on Leta’s face.

But then she turned back to Fiearius and the smile vanished once more. “Okay. Explain yourself.”

Fiearius laughed and shook his head as he kept on down the hall. “Still as demanding as ever I see.”

“If you’re on Vescent in the middle of winter, you must have a damn good reason and I want to know what it is,” she said simply. “If that means ordering an admiral about then–”

“Captain.”

“What?”

“Captain,” he corrected, matter-of-factly, “Not admiral.”

“Sorry, Fiear, but you are an admiral, whether you like it or not. You command a fleet in a war. You rank equal to Gates. You’re an admiral.”

But Fiearius just brushed her off. “I prefer captain.”

For a moment, Leta considered arguing further. But then she realized it was probably fruitless. “Fine. Captain,” she emphasized, “Last time we spoke, you were out by Ascendia tearing apart a Society base. And now you just show up here? Without even a word of warning.” He opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off. “And it’s not because you think I like surprises. Why are you here?”

Somehow, miraculously, he seemed to recognize that he wasn’t going to get out of this one. So he sighed, looked down at her and admitted, “I’m only here to see you actually.”

Leta’s brow furrowed at once, suspicious.

“Business, not pleasure,” he amended quickly and then grinned. “Don’t get too excited.”

Fiearius’ ‘business’ was not something Leta was sure she wanted to be involved in. Most of it took place on the front lines, sneaking onto Society bases, assassinating Society leaders, flying reconnaissance in Society space. Leta had always gotten the impression that Gates and the other Carthian higher-ups would have preferred their partnering admiral take on more of a command role. He should have been in offices and war rooms and strategy meetings to determine where best to send the vast fleet of rogues and criminals at his beck and call.

But in traditional Fiearius fashion, he ignored all of Gates’ requests and continued to barrel head-first into whatever danger presented itself to him. And who were the Carthians to argue? Their agreement put Soliveré and his fleet separate to their direct control so they had no ground there. Fiearius’ heroics had brought in waves of good press and support they could never have garnered on their own. And besides all that, he’d been hugely successful. Or so she had thought until now.

“What kind of business?”

“Important business,” he answered carelessly. “But not time sensitive. It can wait.”

Leta closed her eyes, exasperated. It was just like Fiearius to assume she had all the time in the span to spend being humored by his antics. “Not time-sensitive to you, maybe,” she sighed. “You can’t just come in here and disrupt everything for me, alright?”

Maddeningly, he laughed.

“Glad to know this war isn’t ruining your terrible sense of humor,” Leta muttered bitterly.

“Listen,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder as they walked and leaning a little closer to her ear. “We’ll get to it, I promise. But not here.” He tilted his head towards a group of Carthians as they passed.

“Where then?”

Fiearius no longer seemed to be paying attention. “I’ve gotta meet with some people about a thing,” he said, ignoring her question. “And no doubt you’ve got places to be.”

“Actually, yes, I was on my way to–”

“Is that funky little bar still around? The one just outside the walls?” He didn’t even wait for her answer. “Nine o’clock?”

“I can’t do nine, I’ve got–”

“Nine,” he said again, firmly, catching her eye.

“So you’re asking me to turn my whole schedule upside down for you.”

Fiearius grinned and turned down a hallway to part ways. Before he disappeared around the corner, he glanced back over his shoulder and called, “It’s good to see you,” and in spite herself, Leta softened.

—————-

For the first time in months, Finn had awoken at an early hour — not with a raging hangover, nor surrounded by empty bottles. Filled to the brim with energy, he got dressed quickly and was downstairs in minutes. Everything was laid out before him. He felt clear-headed and more focused than he’d been in months.

He was going to find Callahan today, and he was going to kill him.

Crew members watched curiously in the cargo bay as Finn strapped a gun to his hip, then a knife, then slipped another gun into the waistband at the small of his back. Seconds later he was trekking down the open ramp of the Beacon and into the city of Tarin, Alyx and Cai at his side (Daelen had refused to come). All around them, the city square bustled, oblivious to the three people crossing quickly down the path with purpose in their steps.

“Are you sure you want to be here for this?” Alyx asked Cai, and it was true that Cai rarely came along for jobs that could turn bloody – and this one most certainly would. Though his skittishness in the face of danger had faded, he still had an unshakeable tendency to freeze under pressure and his busted leg wasn’t the most useful in a quick getaway. Typically, Alyx and Finn took on the more dangerous jobs alone.

“If he’s got any Un-Frees around or information on the whereabouts of any, I need to grab it for the Conduit,” Cai explained and then flashed Alyx a knowing grin. “Besides, who else is going to save you two when you get into trouble?”

Alyx mustered a polite, but skeptical laugh. “Right. Just…stay behind us, okay?”

“Addy?” he called, ducking through the door into what they’d affectionately dubbed as the dining room (in actuality, it was far too grand a title for the tiny space of the modular metallic home in which they had simply shoved a table). Addy was standing over an array of blueprints, talking through them with a man named Petro who would be taking over for their duties while they were gone. Cyrus was supposed to helping, but he was distracted.

“Addy, have you seen the purple boots? The ones with the — y’know — ” Cyrus was looking for the word ‘fluff’ but he couldn’t find that either so he just made a poofy motion with his hands.

But Addy just shook her head. “Sorry, sweetie. Have you checked under her bed?”

Cyrus mumbled a vague response before sliding past her to look through the wall cabinet as she went back to explaining, “So we need to make sure the team designing the main square leaves room for this unit.” She tapped the blueprints. “They keep fighting us on it because they want the space for, I don’t know, another restaurant or shop or something.”

Petro tilted his head at her. “How are they expecting to power any of these restaurants and shops if they don’t have the energy inlet?”

“Exactly!” said Addy. “They’re being stubborn and greedy. The coalition heads likely won’t make a decision ‘til after we’re back, but we need you to keep putting pressure on them so this doesn’t slip through the cracks, okay?”

Petro nodded, typing a quick note on his tablet. “Of course. It’s ridiculous though. You and your husba–I mean, partner, sorry–you’re New Genisi’s energy experts, and yet they really continue to fight you on this?”

On his knees on the floor, as he dug through a cubby hole(that held everything from Concordia decorations to miscellaneous bits and pieces he’d ripped out of their shuttle), Cyrus snorted. “If people just listened to scientists, this whole city would have been completed a year ago.”

It was probably an exaggeration. In truth, New Genisi had come an impressively long way. After the terraform had stabilized a few years back, the surface of Archeti had been an empty, untouched landscape, rough and wild and devoid of animal or human life. Today, it was home to some three hundred thousand people, mostly refugees, sprinkled with a handful of aspiring families and business-owners looking to start fresh and of course the ever present vultures looking to feed off the struggling vagrants. But where Genisi once stood a proud and sturdy city, it was now mere clusters of prefabricated portable buildings amidst neverending construction sites. It had come a long way, but it still had a long way to go.

Cyrus had been involved with the project from the get-go. Rebuilding Genisi had been on the table from the day it fell and he had known, even then, that he was going to lend his knowledge and experience towards it. He hadn’t known, however, that he was going to end up jumping in head-first. If they were going to do this, they were going to do it right, which meant New Genisi would not be the smouldering pit of a city it once was, but rather a shining beacon of technology, efficiency and modernity.

Energy was Cyrus’ ‘thing’, so to speak. It had been his area of study all through school and continued to be his focus at Sonnete. He knew the fastest, cleanest, most efficient ways to spread power through any ship you put in front of him. A city, he was a little less familiar with, but really, he’d thought four years ago, how different could it be?

Very different, as it turned out. It wasn’t just the planning that was difficult, it was the bureaucracy. Everyone had an opinion on what went where and how and why and unlike a ship where Cyrus had the power of final decision, New Genisi was a public beast. Those other opinions mattered. Even if, as far as Cyrus was concerned, they didn’t make any sense.

Fortunately, he had Addy. “They’ll listen,” she was saying, smiling down at him. “Eventually. We might just need to stop appealing to their heads and take a few shots at their credits.”

She was his rock, to say the least. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d told her that he wanted to go to Archeti as their energy consultant. But if he had to choose a reaction, her actual “Let’s all move there and I’ll be a consultant with you,” would be the one he picked. And after three years living in this tiny little tin can of a house together, he didn’t know what he could have done without her.

“Noted,” said Petro, jotting more on the tablet. “You two don’t have to worry at all. I’ll handle everything while you’re away. Hell, when you get back, the whole thing will be installed already, just you watch.”

“Then you’d be a miracle worker,” Addy laughed, grasping his shoulder. “If you need anything, we’ll be a call away, alright? Don’t even hesitate.”

“Nonsense, I’m not going to spoil your family vacation,” Petro shook her off as he headed for the door. “Have a great time, I’ll see you when you get back!”

“Thank you!” Addy called as he walked out and Cyrus stood up to join her at her side. They stood there in silence for a moment, watching his back, before Addy turned to him at last. “You still can’t find them?”

“They’re not here,” Cyrus insisted with a heavy sigh. “I’ve looked everywhere.”

“They have to be, where else would they be?” Addy pointed out, crossing into the living room to check the closet he’d already checked three times. Cyrus hovered, defeated, in the doorway, ready to say ‘I told you so’ when she came up empty.

“Why can’t we just pack these instead?” she asked, producing a pair of black boots from the abyss, but Cyrus shook his head.

“Those aren’t warm enough. It’s winter there, remember? She’ll freeze!”

“We’re raising her on Archeti, dear, she doesn’t have our sensitive desert blood y’know.”

“Our blood is exactly what she has,” Cyrus argued, “She’ll freeze, she needs the purple ones.” Addy just eyed him a beat longer before he added, “And those aren’t waterproof.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Emerging from the closet, Addy stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “Well. We’ve got to get to the docks. Is everything else ready to go?”

“Of course. Everything’s packed except the boots, it’s–,” Cyrus began to assure her, but was cut off by a sudden shriek from outside.

Both Addy and Cyrus bolted out of the room, to the front door that was wide open, and felt the panic drain. Kalli was standing on the threshold looking up at the sky. Well, standing wasn’t right. Bouncing.

“Ti’hma! P’ahti!” the four year old cried in elation, seizing both her parents’ hands as her dirty blonde curls danced up and down around her face. “Look look!”

Cyrus followed her line of sight to where the dark shape of a ship was descending towards the planet. It was still a ways off and difficult to see, but he squinted his eyes and could just barely make out the rusted patchwork body of the Dionysian.

Cyrus smiled and leaned down to hoist Kalli into his arms. She giggled with delight and continued to bounce as he held her. “You excited for our trip, issyen?” he asked and she only bounced harder in response.

It had become a sort of running joke around the New Genisi settlement. No wonder Cyrus and Addy were the local experts on power, they’d say, when they spent all of their time raising a literal ball of energy at home.

Cyrus felt Addy’s hand at the small of his back. “Sweetie?” she cooed softly. “I think I know where the boots are.”

Cyrus looked over at her in confusion, but Addy was glancing at Kalli’s feet. Her feet which were contained in what looked like chunks of pure mud. But as he peered at them, he could just barely see something beneath the brown gunk: a hint of purple fluff.

Cyrus groaned and Addy sighed, turning back into the house. “I’ll go get the hose.”

——-

“How’d it go?” said Nikkolai eagerly, his voice breaking the static through the COMM device in Leta’s ear. “What happened? Did you fight? Did you win? Did you yell?”

“A little,” Leta admitted, somewhat amused. She held her fingers against her ear as she zig-zagged through the crowded hallway toward the base’s exit doors. She’d already wasted half her morning here, and she was eager to get the clinic. “I’ll tell you everything when I see you. What’s happening over there?”

“Everything’s good,” said Nikkolai, and she could hear distant chattering voices behind him — a busy morning, no doubt. “We’ve already restocked the pantry, and the waiting room is crowded, but nothing urgent. And another round of flu shots came in, tomorrow we’ll … ”

But Leta wasn’t listening anymore. She’d just seen something that halted her in her tracks.

The broad glass window to her right overlooked the ship docks, and unless she was very much mistaken, she could spot a rusted warm orange-brown metal monster lowering into place. It was like a mirage, or a ghost, and Leta felt like she’d been punched in the gut. It’d been nearly a year since she’d seen it. The Dionysian.

” … still have plenty of left, but we’ll never finish –” Nikkolai was saying.

“I’ll call you back,” said Leta hollowly, lowering her hand from her ear. Eyes widened, she crossed toward the doors and stepped outside. Icy wind gusted against her flesh, tossing her hair across her face, but Leta felt nothing but shock as she watched the ship’s ramp lower slowly, creaking and groaning with age.

She was still reeling (what was it doing here? Was something wrong? Why hadn’t anyone told her it was arriving today?) when a high-pitched “Leta!” rang out from the cargo bay and tiny footsteps pounded down the ramp. Leta’s mouth fell open, partly to respond, partly to laugh, and partly in just pure surprise at how big Kalli had gotten as she bounded towards her, but the little girl only made it a few steps before she was snatched into her mother’s arms.

“Hang on now, you don’t even have your scarf,” Addy scolded, though she chuckled as she expertly draped the purple cloth around Kalli’s struggling form.

“Hey, Leta,” was the second greeting, from Cyrus as he strolled down the ramp after his family as casually as if they saw one another every day.

And finally, there was the flash of red as the Dionysian’s captain descended from the ship. Though not as much red as she remembered. The roots of Fiearius’ hair had taken a sharp turn toward grey since they’d last met. He’d only aged a year, but the war and admiralship had taken its toll on him physically. Still, behind the tired eyes and gaunt cheekbones, there was the same hint of mischief she recognized.

Leta could do nothing but stare at each of them in turn, unable to process that these people were actually standing before her, until Kalli, with a wide grin that matched her father’s, shouted, “Surprise!”

He smiled at her around the rim of his glass. Briefly, Leta noticed (rather uncomfortably) that Gates looked more aged and weathered than ever. How old was he now, Leta wondered — nearly seventy? Lines filled his face, his eyes sagged. And he wasn’t exactly lean and fit, either.

“I shouldn’t tell you this,” he said suddenly, putting down his glass. “But clearly, you need to hear it, or you’ll never leave me alone.” He flashed her a dark look and went on, “This morning was the first meeting we had that’s focused entirely on leaving.”

Leta didn’t know what to say. Shock hit her and she blinked slowly.

“Carthis is on our way out, Leta. It’ll be a slow process — it might not be pretty … ” The older man shook his head before aiming his eyes at her meaningfully. “But soon your city will be yours again. Alright? You can build all the damn doctor’s offices you want, I certainly don’t give a shit.” He reached for her full glass, since she hadn’t drank from it, and grunted, “Now please. Get out of my office.”

—

Alyx stalked out of the Beacon’s bridge, leaving her companions staring at her in confusion. Without a backwards glance, she marched straight down the hall, purpose in every step, her mind racing. They needed to move quickly. If they waited, it could be too late. But it wasn’t far, the Beacon was fast as ever, they could be docked by morning.

Her steps quickened.

The command deck was silent, save for the thump thump thump of her boots on metal grating. Most of the ship’s meager crew was below, lounging and relaxing as the ship made its way from their last supply drop on the edge of Synechdan. There had been a lot of lounging and relaxing as of late, with work becoming more and more scarce. Even the work they did take on barely provided a pittance. To the crew, Alyx blamed the ongoing war. Import and export business had stalled while clients were preoccupied fighting the Society, she told them. War-related supply runs were rarely granted to outside ships. There was just no work to be had. That’s why things were slow.

Though she, and probably everyone else, knew that wasn’t the only reason.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Alyx hit the door controls to Finn’s quarters and stalked inside. The stench of cigarette smoke hit her nostrils, with an undertone of whiskey. Cheap whiskey. Emptied bottles sat on the table, on the floor, the night stand.

She couldn’t really say she was surprised.

These days, Finn wasn’t the man she once knew as her captain. His injury, Corra’s fleeing, and then, worst of all, the loss of Archeti had destroyed part of his spirit. Apathetic, emotionless, and grumbling, he’d largely lost interest in finding jobs for the Beacon, and most of the unpaid and frustrated crew had dismantled and left. He never showed up for meals and was rarely found in his captain’s chair. Once upon a time, he’d swaggered around the ship like the best pilot the span had ever seen. These days he only emerged from his room begrudgingly, like a surly teenager. Alyx had largely taken helm of the Beacon, and more than once, Finn had insisted she take the captainship officially. “Just go ahead and have the ship already,” he groaned. “You want it, I can tell.” Alyx had refused.

Sometimes, a glimpse of the old Finn came back — he’d get an unusual burst of energy and plan out the next few weeks of work, a long-lost glint in his eyes. But then he’d slip back into his habit of sleeping all the time, smelling strongly of stale drink, haggard and annoyed. Quite simply, Finn had been in a bad mood now for years.

In his room, Alyx was unsurprised by the display of alcoholism, and even less surprised to find a new woman in Finn’s bed. She shrieked and scrambled to cover herself with the sheets. Alyx recognized her as one of the passengers they’d brought on only a few days ago. Well. It certainly hadn’t taken long for her to end up here.

Alyx watched dully as Finn sat up, his hair a mess, a murderous look in his eyes. But then his anger fell away and he simply groaned. “God, Alyx, you could knock y’know?”

“Can I have a moment, cap’n?” said Alyx innocently. Then she looked his naked form up and down in judgment. “And some pants please?”

Without waiting for his answer, she turned and stepped back into the hallway, ignoring the ensuing argument between lovers that went on behind her. Part of her wondered if Finn would emerge at all.

But today he must’ve been in decent spirits, or at least, too tired to argue. He pulled himself into the hallway, fully dressed in wrinkled clothes,  an unlit cigarette already in his mouth, muffling his voice as he grunted, “The hell is it?”

“Isn’t she married?” Alyx mused, glancing at the doorway. But then she said,  “Come with me, I need to show you something,” and started off back towards the bridge. Perhaps it wasn’t appropriate for a first mate to be barking commands at her captain. But ever since she’d taken the job after Corra left, she’d found a lot more got done if she did.

Finn followed her all the way to the bridge where Daelen and Cai were waiting. Daelen’s arms were crossed over his chest and his stare stern as the two of them entered.

“Wait.” Finn halted in the doorway, suddenly suspicious. “Is this an intervention? Again? God, you three, you need to lay off, I’m fine — ”

“You’re not, but we’ll discuss that another day,” Daelen interrupted steadily. “Alyx,” said Daelen, turning to her and pointing accusingly at her console, “please explain this. And please tell me you’re not really suggesting–”

“Hush,” Alyx scolded him. “Finn, c’mere and look at this.”

She pointed at the glowing console screen.

“You know how I feel about this,” Daelen went on in that fatherly disapproving tone that drove Alyx up the wall, but before she could argue, Finn said, “Wait. Is this–this is legitimate? You’re sure?” as he stared fixedly at the screen.

“I trust this source,” Alyx confirmed. “If he says Callahan’s on Tarin, he’s on Tarin.”

And knowing that was more satisfying than Alyx was willing to admit. She had never even met the man personally, but when Finn told her of him, she’d learned to loathe him all the same. For pulling the Beacon into his ally-trading scheme. For nearly killing Finn. And whether he was a contributing factor or not, for chasing Corra away.

They’d had their tendrils out in all manner of places for the past five years, searching for him. At first, Alyx had thought Finn’s obsession with the hunt was mad. There was no trace of him. No whispers. No clues. Callahan had probably died on Archeti when the planet fell. But Finn had refused to believe it and sure enough, pieces started to fit together. Hints started to pop up. She, like him, began to believe that he’d made it out.

Most of their leads in the past had turned out to be false. Pranks, on occasion. Or worse, traps. But this time, Alyx had a good feeling. This time, they had found him.

“Look, I understand this man is scum,” Daelen said, less scolding and more concerned this time. “But what good could come from this? Every time we’ve gone after Callahan before, we ended up in trouble and no closer to your goal. Which, by the way, is not really a healthy goal to begin with…”

“You don’t get it,” said Finn bluntly. “You don’t understand what he’s done. What he’s still doing. There are dozens of shipments of allies from all across the Span to the same guys we took them to every month. They’re his. I know they’re his.”

“You don’t know they’re his. You’re assuming,” Daelen replied shortly. “And holding onto it, hunting him like this, it’s not hurting him. It’s hurting you.”

Finn just shook his head. “It will hurt him,” he spat bitterly. “If we catch him.”

Suddenly Daelen turned back on Alyx. “I can’t believe you’re supporting this.”

“I can’t believe you’re not,” Alyx snapped back. “He’s a slaver. He needs to be taken down.”

“Then we should report him to the Conduit and they can send proper force to deal with it,” Daelen insisted. “You may be a fighter, but the rest of us are not. And what if this is just another trap? We can’t afford any danger right now and you know it. If we don’t make our meeting with the supply warehouse? They’ll give it to someone else and we’ll be out of credits, out of fuel and grounded with no work for who knows how long.”

Reasonably, Alyx knew he was probably right. The ship’s coffers were running dry as is and if something did go amiss, it would only set them back further. But they were so close. After five years, she could feel it right beyond her fingertips.

Flustered, she turned to the fourth voice in the room: Cai. “What do you think?”

These days, the Beacon had been running less as a dictatorship and more as a committee. It wasn’t that Alyx didn’t trust her captain, but–well actually she didn’t. But in place of strong leadership, they had a balanced trio in the three long-term crew members. Alyx was the capable force of action, Daelen was the logic and Cai brought the heart. The morality. And more often than not, his voice was the tie-breaking factor.

Now, he sat in his chair with his legs crossed on the seat, his chin in his hand and a thoughtful frown on his face. At first, he didn’t answer. So Finn cut in.

“Why are we even arguing this?” he demanded. “We’ve been looking for this asshole for years, we found him, let’s go.”

“It’s irresponsible, risky and could bring down the entirety of the Beacon,” Daelen said shortly.

“But if we don’t get to him now, he could move and anyone else could be too late,” argued Alyx.

Finn looked straight across the room and met Cai’s eyes. “He’s an ally-trader. You know what your answer has to be.”

Cai met his stare firmly, but he was still quiet. The wheels of calculation could be seen turning behind his eyes. The others waited with bated breath. Until finally.

“We should go after him.”

“Finally!” Finn exclaimed and marched across the bridge to the pilot’s seat.

No one asked for an explanation, but Cai gave one anyway. “We should go after him for Corra,” he said and even Finn grew quiet. “It’s what she would have done.”

Alyx felt a sharp pang in her chest. They had all lost a friend with Corra’s departure. She’d left a hole in the ship that was never again filled, not for any of them. Finn had been focused on the notion that eliminating Callahan would manage it. Or alcohol might do the trick. Or burying himself in mundane tasks or simple pleasures. But Alyx knew it wouldn’t. Nothing could. Corra hadn’t been seen by anyone in five years. She’d sent a grand total of four messages to Leta and Leta alone, mostly to assure her that she still lived. But as much as Alyx and the entire crew hoped otherwise, after five whole years? She wasn’t coming back.

But even now, people got still when her name was mentioned. And this time, no one, not even Daelen, argued when Finn said, “Alyx. Set the course for Tarin.”

—

Cyrus’ palms hit the floor and he squinted into the dark space beneath the bed. A sock sat crumpled in the corner. A few candy wrappers littered the edge. From the back wall he caught the glint of plastic eyes on a fluffy teddy bear’s face staring back at him. Not what he was looking for.

With a tired groan, he pushed himself to his feet and swung his eyes around the room. Clothes spilled onto the floor from the dresser he’d already torn apart. The closet was in shambles. He’d rummaged through the packed baggage twice. Where the hell were they?

Frustrated, he marched from the room. On the way out, he caught an unfortunate glimpse of himself in a mirror and barely recognized the man looking back at him. When had the circles beneath his eyes gotten so dark? When had his hair gotten so shaggy? Probably sometime between installing New Genisi’s first energy core and his seemingly neverending search for lost footwear.