“Well when’s that gonna be?!” someone beside Leta yelled back. “Where are they?!”

Ducking away quickly, Leta looked to Cyrus and Addy.

“How’re we going to get through the blockade?” Addy whispered.

“We can just make a run for it?” Cyrus suggested, but Leta shook her head.

“They’ll grab us. There are too many of them.”

Cyrus glanced back at them, his face wrought with indecision as he pushed the glasses up his nose. Finally, that familiar look of epiphany started to light his eyes, a look that reminded Leta of Fiearius, as he said, “There’s a lot of us too.”

“What?” Addy whispered, but Leta thought she understood: there were not many Society commanding officers. Ten, fifteen, at best. But there was a whole crowd of angry people …

Suddenly, in a powerful voice Leta would not have expected from him, Cyrus stood back and bellowed, “We won’t stand for this!”

A few people looked towards where he was crammed into the crowd and he hastily ducked a few inches to avoid their gaze. But there was already a general murmur of agreement. “We won’t be treated like this!” he went on, altering his voice a little. Someone on the other side of the alley confirmed, “We won’t!”

Another woman up front cried, “We’ve had it with you lot! Had it!”

The commanding officer’s face darkened. “Calm down. We’ll let you through as soon as–”

“Not soon enough!” shouted Cyrus, and this time a chorus of cheers followed him. Leta watched him, half-horrified, half-amazed.

“You can’t keep us here!” cried another voice, followed by, “We’re getting through and we’re getting on those ships, no matter what!”

The crowd was rippling with movement and noise, and then Leta felt a surge of pressure on her back; people were pushing forward.

“I think it’s working!” Addy whispered, both terrified and hopeful, as she grabbed ahold of Leta’s arm and Cyrus’ shoulder. People were moving from all directions now, and yells filled the area, a din of anger.

“Settle down!” roared the commander up front as his wall of agents started to get pushed back themselves. “Settle down or we’ll be forced to take action!”

“You can’t control us!” roared one man, raising his fist in the air. And then it happened.

The first gunshot seemed to shock every person in the crowd. The crowd screamed, then ducked to the ground. The second gunshot that cracked in the air made yells of anger erupt as suddenly the sea of people launched forward.

In the chaos, Leta quickly seized Addy’s hand as people began to fight their way forward. Cyrus led the way, gritting his teeth as he shoved people sideways.

“Get to the shuttle on the left, hurry!” he shouted over his shoulder.

Bodies shoved into one another. In the disorder, Leta fleetingly lost sight of Cyrus and Addy, and she spun around.

What she found made a yell of alarm erupt in her throat. Addy, struggling against a commander’s arms, fighting for freedom. Horrified, Leta immediately shoved forward to help her but before she could, Cyrus’ voice rang out over the crowd.

“Let her go!” he growled, and cracked his knuckles across the man’s face. In nearly the same motion, he seized Addy’s wrist, reached out to grab Leta’s and darted onward towards a ship Leta didn’t recognize.

Short of breath, panicking, the three of them clambered up the ramp into the small fighter ship. Cyrus lunged forward to hit the control pad, closing the heavy door behind them, sealing them inside the ship.

“Are you okay?” he breathed, turning to Addy in particular, who was massaging her neck where the man had grabbed her.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” said Addy, quickly turning toward the front of the ship. “We need to get in the air.”

Cyrus nodded in agreement, but he didn’t yet move. Even with the door closed, the din of the outside was still audible. Bursts of gunfire, screaming. Cyrus stood there, totally quiet, as though listening to it. His eyes were on the ground and his breath seemed caught in his chest. He must have felt Leta watching him, because he finally looked up, locked eyes with her, frowned resolutely and had to turn away.

She saw guilt in his face, and she knew why: he’d caused this chaos.  Leta could think of nothing to say, but she squeezed his shoulder.

“You can fly this thing?” Cyrus asked as he joined Addy at the control panels.

“Well enough,” was Addy’s response as she busied herself at the console. “I just need to override the docking security…”

Cyrus nodded again and looked back at Leta, seemingly about to say something, when suddenly there was a loud banging to her left. She jumped backwards, ramming into the opposite wall.

“Open up!” came the muffled voice from the outside. “We know you’re in there! Open up, surrender and we may show mercy!”

Leta met Cyrus’ stare, wide-eyed. “Can you override it faster?” Cyrus breathed.

“Fast as I can,” Addy insisted, her fingers tapping away furiously.

The banging got louder. “Open this door!” shouted the voice again. The noise was filling the whole cabin. Leta could see the whole door mechanism shuddering at the impact.

“Addy…” Cyrus warned again, but Addy just shouted, “A few more seconds!”

“This is your last chance to open this door before I fucking blow it off!” shouted the voice.

Leta and Cyrus shared a look of alarm, but finally, Addy shouted, “Got it!” and the floor of the ship roared to life.

“Get us out of here!” Cyrus yelped. As the ship lifted from the docks, Cyrus and Addy began cheering: they were truly leaving Vescent.

In silence, Leta watched wisps of cloud dart past the window, and she sank against the wall in exhaustion.

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

Hours or seconds later (really — it could have been days), Leta forced open her heavy eyes. Her vision was blurring, but then Cyrus’ face slowly swam into view. He was leaning over her as she slept in a chair, gently shaking her awake.

“You alright?” he asked, and there was a certain joy in his voice she could not understand. Then he said, smiling, “Leta, we made it. We just landed. The Dionysian and the Beacon are outside.”

Leta pinched the bridge of her nose and sat up. She knew she was supposed to leap to her feet, she was supposed to run down the open ramp in excitement. But as she sat up, she felt only shaky, feverish, as if she were getting over a bout of the flu.

“I’ll be right th — ” she muttered, but Cyrus and Addy were hurrying down the ramp. A chorus of happy yells told Leta that the Dionysian crew was waiting outside.

Cautiously, slowly, Leta ventured down the ramp. Standing in the broad shadow of the Beacon, she saw Amora, weeping in happiness and calling her name over and over; Corra, hugging Cyrus and Addy at the same time and jumping up and down; Finn, beaming at her and looking a little faint with relief. Her eyes scanned over their faces, and she was about to open her mouth when she felt a figure — a tall figure — advancing toward her.

She heard Fiearius’ voice saying her name, and she glimpsed messy auburn hair, the utter relief filling his eyes, his arms open to pull her into his chest. But then — her vision went white.

Blinding light filled her eyes. Something — something angry, something feral and scared — roared to life inside of her.

As Fiearius’ hands went to her forearms to pull her into an embrace, she yanked herself away and the words jumped out of her throat before she could stop them. “Get off — no! NO!” she screamed, and she felt everyone spin around, astonished, as Leta fought off her assailant. Her screams pierced the air, choking with sobs. “Don’t — you can’t —  DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Fiearius stepped backwards and put up his palms in surrender, stricken with confusion and horror.

“Leta, it’s me,” he said, his voice calm. “It’s just me. What’s wrong?” He turned to Cyrus, his face darkened. “What happened to her?”

“I–I don’t know,” Cyrus admitted. “She was fine. I mean, the Society had her for a little bit. Twenty, thirty minutes, but, she’s been fine, I don’t know what–”

“Get back!”  Leta felt herself scream, digging her hands into her hair. “Stay away from him, Cyrus!’

Fiearius took in a deep breath and ventured a careful step towards her. She instinctually staggered backwards. “Leta,” he said, his voice even. “Calm down. It’s me. Fiearius. It’s okay.”

“I — but you betrayed — ”

Her voice shook with doubt. Tears swam in her eyes and she slowly lowered her hands from her hair, regarding Fiearius closely, taking in all the parts of him she had long since memorized: the scar jutting through his brow, his tightened jawline, the concern blazing in his eyes. She knew that face. It all came flooding back to her: the jobs on the Dionysian, the days they’d spent joking and teasing each other, that particular barking way he laughed, his stupid nicknames, his smile, his cooking, his hands as they ran down her back.

Her lungs tightened, then she exhaled. “Fiear?” she said quietly, and he nodded at her, as if confirming that yes, it was really him, and yes, she really was home.

Finally, exhaling shakily, she pressed forward and threw her arms around his neck, collapsing into his embrace.

What the hell had they done to her?

Gingerly, she pushed herself to her feet.

Just then, the door banged open, flooding the room with fluorescent light. Leta’s hand flew up to shield her eyes and she felt startled of what could possibly happen next —

But the guard in the doorway looked nothing but friendly.

“Hey, y’alright?” he said, holding open the door. He was a young man, around her age, dressed in dark-colored Society clothing. “Ready to leave? Feeling a little drowsy? I felt like crap after, too, but you get used to it.”

“After what?”

The man continued to smile, but he squinted at her. “You really are drowsy, eh? Come on, time to go. What did you say your name was?”

Leta’s throat was dry.  Her mother’s name — her own middle name — jumped into her mind. “Ella,” she said after a moment.

They stepped into the hallway. Leta looked around quickly, though there were no helpful hints as to where they were: the hallway was empty, white and sterile.

“Now that is a pretty name,” the guard was saying, still grinning. “Nice to meet you, Ella. Surprised I don’t recognize you. You know, I usually — “

“Enough flirting, Rogerson,” came a crisp voice. Footsteps pounded down the tiled floor and an older woman appeared, also in Society clothing, holding a clipboard against her chest. She glanced at the man — Rogerson — with disgust. “Hope he wasn’t bothering you. Are you ready to proceed?” She looked down at her clipboard, and then she held out a handheld scanner.  “You’ll need to get into your uniform. For now we’ll just need to scan your CID.”

Leta opened her mouth, then closed it again, her mind racing. Her identification, they needed her identification. She tried to summon her wits, but her brain felt soggy, like she was moving underwater. The only lie she could summon was, “I forgot it.”

The woman’s eyes shot up.  “You what?”

“I’m afraid that I forgot it.”

“Forgot it?” the woman scoffed.

“She’s a little drowsy,” said Rogerson. “Not thinking straight just yet.”

“You can’t forget the damn thing, it’s in your wrist.”

She reached for Leta’s arm, and it was this gesture that made Leta jolt out of her stupor. Society agents received implanted identification chips — of course. How could she have forgotten? Her father had one. Fiearius had one. She herself did not have one — she’d quit the Society science ward merely weeks before she was to receive it.

“Actually,” she said, thinking quickly and pulling her forearm away, “mine’s not. Never got it implanted. Because of–a blood condition.”

“Hm?” The woman blinked, then narrowed her eyes. “Well. I guess we’ll need to take you over to secondary processing.”

“Will — that take long?” said Leta uncertainly. “I really need to — to — ”

“Catch your ship?” offered Rogerson with tones of sympathy, and Leta nodded quickly. The fool had no idea that he was assisting her.

“Sorry,” said the woman, frowning down at her clipboard. “Rules are rules, can’t let you into the docks without processing.”

“What ship are you on?” asked Rogerson.

“Oh, um — ”

Before Leta could invent a believable Society ship (the Beacon was the only one coming to mind), a shout from the other end of the hall made all three of them spin around.

“There you are!”

Two figures were marching closer, a sight that made Leta’s heart sink: her lies were working on two agents, but surely she’d be sniffed out when more arrived. One was a man in full armored gear of a Society Elite that looked out of place in this quiet hallway, but at his side was a woman who —

Leta’s heart flipped over.

The woman was in commander blues and a Ridellian headscarf Leta recognized instantly. Addy.

And beside her, that must have been Cyrus. They were in disguise. How the hell had they made it here? Leta quickly tried to dissolve the surprise out of her face.

“We’ve been looking all over for you!” scolded Addy, in a voice Leta had never once heard her use. “Do you realize how much trouble you’re in? How late you are? Our entire schedule put off, because you can’t even be bothered to wake up on time. I swear, this is your last warning, agent.”

Rogerson scratched his hair, looking between the two new arrivals in confusion. His stare set on Cyrus who he looked up and down. “Aren’t you a little short to be an Elite?”

Beneath his heavy gear, Cyrus shrugged, while Addy continued to chastise Leta. “If the captain finds out about this? Gods, you’d best hope he doesn’t.”

Leta managed to strike a note of regret. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it, agent.” Addy reached out and grabbed her arm, beginning to pull her away. “Let’s just get you onboard before anyone else notices.”

As they turned to leave, the other woman spoke up. “Hang on, there, Commander, she still needs to be processed.”

Addy just looked back with a glare. “We don’t have time for processing. Unless you want to explain to the captain of the Titan why his navigation technician isn’t aboard.”

“Well–” the woman stammered. “No, ma’am, but the rules–”

“Aren’t applicable here,” Addy finished firmly. “We’ll be going now. Have a pleasant day, agent.” Abruptly, she turned on her heel and stalked away down the hall, dragging Leta with her and Cyrus a few steps behind. They made it all the way to the corner before she heard Rogerson say, “Wait a minute. Didn’t the Titan leave for repairs two days ago?”

Leta’s heart sunk. Addy’s grip tightened on her arm. And just as they rounded the corner, there was a shout behind them, “Hey, wait! Come back here!”

Addy, Cyrus and Leta exchanged one wild look of panic. And then, in a clumsy caravan, they bolted.

“Well, that half-worked,” Cyrus called, swiping off his helmet and tossing it behind him as they tore down the corridor.

“When has that plan ever fully worked?” Leta cried.

“Never. And yet we keep trying it,” said Cyrus, sounding hysterical as his feet pounded the floor. “Funny, that.”

“Yes, it’s hilarious, now how do we get out of here?”

Overhead, an alarm began to blare over the speakers, followed by a cold female voice. Attention. Intruders in building A. Code 403. Agents be advised.

“Uh … quickly,” finished Cyrus. “C’mon, let’s go this way.”

Suddenly, Cyrus turned down a corridor and out a pair of double doors, straight into the narrow alley beyond, where voices were bouncing off the walls. Leta could not imagine why Cyrus led them into an alley filled with people — what was he thinking? — but as she staggered to a halt, then caught one look at the scene in front of her, she immediately understood.

Civilians, citizens and even some scattered Society agents themselves were crowded around the east end of the alley that lead to the docks, shouting pleas, yelling profanities and banging their fists in protest. No one spared them a second glance: here, they could blend in.

All around them, the crowd was in an uproar. “This is ridiculous!” “Why can’t we board?” “Come on, let us through!”  “Open up!”

Cyrus slipped into the fray, with Leta and Addy following on his heels. At the head of the crowd, a wall of armed Society agents were forming a barricade in front of the departing ships.

“Everyone remain calm!” yelled a commanding officer, strolling in front of the angry crowd. “You’ll be allowed through as soon as we locate the trespassers!”

Everything about Vescent — from the gray clouds in the sky, to the slick cobblestone streets, to the stone buildings — was entirely strange and foreign. Not a piece of it felt familiar. As best as Addy could manage, she kept her head down, only briefly consulting the map she’d drawn on the inside of her palm, as she navigated her way through the dark streets. She hoped she didn’t look as out of place as she felt. Otherwise, this mission would be over before it even began.

And she couldn’t bear the thought of returning without them. She couldn’t; she wouldn’t do it. No matter what Fiearius had said. “If something happens — if you can’t do it — just come back, okay? Come back, with or without them. No matter what,” he’d warned, just before she’d stepped into one of the Beacon’s fighter ships.

Addy had nodded. Then she said,  “Corra’s gonna kill you once she finds out.”

“Probably,” said Fiearius. “But I’ll handle her. You just look out for yourself. Dov’ha re’ija niéle.”

The fighter ship was a bigger vessel than Addy anticipated, but still flew beautifully; she could see why Finn loved these little ships. In the journey toward Vescent, she occupied her mind by tinkering with the ship’s security protocol to make sure there’d be no hiccups when she arrived.

After the landing, Addy’s nerves keyed up. The air was cool and she squinted up at the swirling gray Vescent sky — nothing like Satieri, nothing at all — and then joined the check point line. Her hands were shaking, so she slid them into her jacket pockets and tried to keep her expression neutral. But her heart was ramming inside her ribcage.

She realized that she had not, until this moment, really believed there was any possibility her fake CID wouldn’t work.

When it was her turn, the agent gazed hard at her face, read the console screen, then waved her through. She had to concentrate on not heaving a heavy sigh of relief.

But she’d made it through the entry gates into the city. She’d made it inside. Now, it was a matter of finding where Cyrus and Leta were hiding out.

Society agents stood at every corner, dressed in all black. Some of them were armed with heavy assault rifles; others stood there with their arms crossed; Addy saw one agent yelling in a woman’s face, and she quickly veered in a different direction.

When she’d found the apartment, when at last Delia had let her inside, Addy took her first real breath. Cyrus was the only familiar sight she’d seen in days.

“Cyrus, I — “

He looked thunderstruck. Then he crossed through the living room room, grasped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers, warmly and fully, for nearly five seconds. She could hear Leta letting out a gasp of shock, but in those five seconds, Addy let herself revel in the warmth and shock that he was alive. That she’d found him. Normally she would have been embarrassed by the tears that formed in her eyes, but when Cyrus released her, she just brushed them away carelessly.

“What are you doing here?!” Cyrus demanded. “How’d you get here?”

“It’s a long story.” She let out a shaky gasp — half laughing, half crying. “Basically, thanks to some of my dad’s genius, I can land safely on some Society planets. Oh, and hi, Leta,” she added, glancing over Cyrus’ shoulder to see her on the edge of the room.

She looked stricken with uncertainty. “Is — Fiearius isn’t here too, is he?”

“No, no, I traveled alone.”

“Thank the gods,” said Cyrus, groaning as he took Addy’s wrists and led her over to the couch. He sat down, holding her wrist tighter. “I mean, not that it’s good that you’re here. Shit, what are you doing here? Do you realize where you are? How dangerous it is? Gods, what if someone caught you or something happened? Did Fiearius send you? Why the hell did he–”

“Can you save that for later?” said Addy, unable to bite back a smile. “Less about how I got here. More about how we’ll get out of here. I have a ship. One of the Beacon’s fighters. We can leave on it.”

Cyrus winced, biting down on his thumbnail. “Well that’s one big problem solved, but what use is a ship if we can’t get to it? There are agents everywhere. And the dock’s checkpoint…”

“What if we go during a rush period?” said Leta at once. Addy could see the hope in her face, and her heart twisted: Addy wished she had some way of reassuring Fiearius that she was alive and alright. “The guards are more lax during crowded hours,” she went on quickly. “They can’t check everyone. If we get there in the morning when the dock’s busy? We can blend into the crowd and slip right through.”

Cyrus nodded slowly. “Right. That could work.” His eyes trailed across the room to Delia who hadn’t spoken a word since Addy had arrived. She stood up against the wall in the corner looking uncomfortable in her own home. Her arms were crossed over her chest, the corners of her mouth were turned down.

Carefully, Cyrus asked, “Is it alright if we stay just one more night? Then we’ll be gone, I swear it. Just one more night.”

Delia looked up at him, her eyes dazed as though she only just remembered he was there at all. “What if it doesn’t work?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

Cyrus glanced at Leta who looked at Addy who had no idea what they would do if it didn’t work. Gods, it just had to work. They had to get to that ship no matter what.

And Delia confirmed it. “You can stay one more night,” she said, her tone cold. “But after that, don’t come back here. I can’t–” She swallowed hard. “I don’t want to turn you in. I don’t. But you can’t be here anymore.”

The three of them shared a look before Cyrus met Delia’s stare. He could do nothing but nod.

—————

The entry gates to the docks were crowded with people, but eerily silent. Tension was thick in the air. No one in the sea of people spoke above a hushed whisper as they edged forward toward entrance. “Move!” one of the agents barked, making an elderly woman jump; she hurried through the gates and toward the row of ships.

Leta was donning the headscarf again, her eyes darting around as the line began to move. She kept close to Cyrus and Addy. Together, they made a point of staying in the center of the crowd, hopefully preventing agents from seeing them too closely. Leta’s heart turned over in her chest: was it possible they would be leaving? Was it possible — dare she believe it — that she’d see Fiearius by tomorrow? Her chest ached with hope.

The line inched forward again. They were ten people away from the entrance, then five, then three, and Leta could feel her breathing shorten with worry. At her side, Cyrus was wrought with tension, and for a fleeting moment she saw Cyrus and Addy holding hands amongst the crowd.

Just when they reached the gate, a shout erupted into the air. Leta jumped and spun around just in time to see two agents pulling at a woman, dragging her away from the scene. She was screaming.

“No — no, you can’t take her away!” the woman sobbed. “That’s my daughter — you can’t let her go without me, she’s just a child — ! Wait, WAIT!”

It was clear the agents were trying to silence her, but unrest rippled through the crowd: murmurs erupted as people began to shift uneasily. A woman near Leta’s ear suddenly grabbed her arm, making her jump.

“The last time someone fought them like this, they shut down the docks for a month,” the woman breathed, her eyes wide and horrified. “No one could leave at all.”

Fear bolted through her. She shared one look of terror with Cyrus and Addy, and they had a silent conversation. Shut down for a month? They could have been trapped here for —

But Leta never got the chance to even think through this horrible possibility. The woman being dragged off was still screaming. Then five more agents pushed through the gates, pushing people out of their way — barking orders —

“Dock access is a privilege, not a right!” one of the men yelled. The crowd was stirring around him. “All citizens must — ”‘

Abruptly, the man stopped, and Leta experienced a cold wave of shock when she realized he was staring straight at her. His face darkened and he grunted, to her astonishment, “All Society personnel need to pass through Checkpoint B. What’re you doing over here? You should know better.”

Leta felt her mouth open, but no words came out. Society personnel? How did he — why did he —

At her side, Cyrus gave her the slightest nudge on her arm. Her tattooed arm. Glancing down briefly, she realized that when the strange woman had grabbed her, she’d pulled on her sleeve — exposing her librera for all the city to see.

At once, the citizens standing around Leta grumbled and backed away. I’m not one of them, Leta thought, feeling powerless and hysterical as the Society agent approached and took her arm.

“C’mon, you, over this way,” he said, steering her away from Cyrus and Addy who could only look on in horror as she was drawn into the crowd.

The table descended into silence as the three of them, unlikely dinner companions, nervously picked at the food in front of them. It was often like this around here, Cyrus found. Perhaps it was just him, but ever since he’d arrived, he felt the awful looming expectation that at any moment someone would barge through the door and drag them off to be executed in the city sqaure themselves. It didn’t exactly make for good dinner conversation.

But suddenly Delia, to his side, started laughing, apparently at nothing. Alarmed, Cyrus looked at Leta who just stared back at him, perplexed. Delia just kept on laughing until finally she got a hold of herself.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out as she tried to steady her breathing. “I’m so sorry. This is just so–it’s so weird. I just can’t believe that I’m sitting here eating cheap takeout on Vescent with Cyrus Soliveré hiding from the Society.”

Cyrus didn’t exactly get the humor in the situation, but she wasn’t wrong. He chuckled a in return and muttered, “Yeah, it’s — it’s kinda strange.”

“No no, you don’t even know how strange,” she corrected him, raising her hand. “I used to hate you.”

Cyrus said, blankly, “Wait — what?”

“Back at Sonnete? Gods, you were so rude,” she went on, and Leta snorted.

Delia continued, sounding amused, “I said hello to you every morning. You know what you said to me? Nothing. Nothing or hell, sometimes you even glared at me. You were so stuck-up and arrogant. You never gave anyone else the time of day. You acted like you were better than everyone there. You were genuinely terrible.”

It was not the revelation Cyrus was expecting. Though even if he had, it still stung. Okay, so he hadn’t been the greatest of people back then. Sure, he’d had a big head and a bit of a crappy attitude, but he’d never known that people actually hated him.

“I thought you two were friends,” said Leta, looking intrigued herself.

“Friends? Hardly,” Delia scoffed. “I didn’t even know you knew my name.”

Red  by now with embarrassment, Cyrus stammered, “Of course I knew your name, I–” But there was a much more pressing question on his mind. “I don’t get it. Why did you help us then?”

“Well I’m not heartless,” Delia laughed. “Sure, I never liked you, but gods, if I’d turned you in on the Titan?” She shook her head. “I don’t want you dead. I don’t want anyone dead. I mean, I was genuinely glad when you left Sonnete. That’s a terrible thing to say, but it was true at the time. Now, of course, I feel awful, knowing that you were kidnapped. Definitely not glad anymore. Sorry about that.” She smiled sheepishly.

“But–I don’t know, you’re so much better now,” she went on. “You seem–I don’t know. Better.” A genuine smile pulled across her face before she added in jest, “Maybe getting kidnapped by murderous traitors was good for you?”

And that, Cyrus was found, was when he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I wasn’t kidnapped,” he said suddenly. Leta dropped her fork with a clatter. Delia knitted her brow, confused.

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t kidnapped, Delia. And my brother’s not–”

“Cyrus,” Leta breathed sharply.

But he shook his head. “I have to tell her the truth. She has to know.”

“She already knows the truth,” Leta growled, but Cyrus had already turned back to Delia.

“Fiearius Soliveré isn’t a traitor. He’s not murderous. He’s not dangerous. The things the Society says about him, they’re lies.”

Leta put her head in her hands beside him, but Delia was watching Cyrus with wide eyes. “What are you–not dangerous–but the Titan!”

“He’s fighting the Society, yes. We all are. But not because we’re the bad guys, we–” Suddenly Cyrus’ words were stuck in his throat. How could he explain this? How could he make her understand? “They killed his family, Delia. When they made him Verdant, they killed his wife and his four year old son. Just to manipulate him.” He heard her gasp as she put a hand over her mouth. “And you remember the Nautilus?”

Her hand fell away, just slightly. “The terraformer project? Of course. It was your pride and joy.”

“And you remember the break-in? That ended with it broken nearly beyond repair?” She nodded. “It wasn’t a break-in. It was me. I destroyed it because I found out what they were going to do with it once it was done. They weren’t going to use it on uncivilized planets.” Delia’s hand clasped over her mouth again and her horrified eyes peered over it.

“And we’re not the only ones. They imprisoned Leta’s fiance just for knowing too much. They’ll kill anyone who makes even the slightest transgression against them, whether they know they’re guilty or not. The Society was once a force of good, yes, but it’s gotten too powerful. And now? Now it’s dangerous. That’s why I left when my brother showed up asking for help. And that’s why we’re fighting them now. That’s why we were on the Titan. That’s why we’re fugitives and have to get off this planet as soon as possible. And I thought you needed to know. I think everyone needs to know.” He reached over and put his hand on her arm as he said seriously, “You’re not safe, Delia. No one is. Not anymore.”

Delia could not have been more stunned. She didn’t move. She didn’t blink. She just stared at him, horrified, unable it seemed to find any words. Cyrus half wondered if they were about to be thrown out. But before she got the chance, there was a knock on the door.

Leta practically jumped out of her seat, her hand going to the knife she hadn’t taken from her hip since they’d landed. Cyrus too got to his feet and quietly started to usher Leta towards the back room. Delia almost seemed like she wasn’t even going to get up, but finally, as Cyrus secured the both of them out of sight, he heard her footsteps and the sound of the door opening.

On the other side, he heard a quiet, nervous voice. “A-are you Delia?”

Cyrus felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. There was something oddly familiar about that voice …

“Yes, can I help you?” was Delia’s cold response.

“I’m looking for — an engineer. An experienced engineer. My ship, The Beacon, has a broken B-valve … ”

And it hit him. But no. It couldn’t be. There was no way. Ignoring Leta’s hushed protests, Cyrus peered around the corner into the living room, past Delia and at the woman standing in the door. The messy blonde hair. The gray-blue eyes.

“Addy?!”

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