It didn’t help matters that he could barely make himself focus. Three days had passed since he’d last taken one of those tiny white pills. He’d been wrong — he should have just given in this morning. He would’ve been on top of his game, but he’d felt moral obligation to resist, rather stupidly, he thought now. He’d congratulated his choice at the time. Now? Now his vision was blurring, his ears were ringing, his response time was delayed and people were dying. Now, he damned his choice to hell.

“Just hang in there,” he growled, clenching his fists around the edge of the console screen. “I’ll get back-up to you as soon as there’s bodies to spare.”

“May find nothing but bodies by the time they get here,” Rax snapped.

“How’s your brother doin’ with the blast doors?” came another voice — Quin’s. Judging by the background din, things were not faring well on her end, either. “Could sure as hell use ‘em right about now.”

Fiearius took a deep breath. “Status report, Cy?” When no answer arrived, he growled, “Cy? Cyrus, come in. Leta? Where the hell are you two — ”

“The command center’s blocking their transmissions,” Dez explained. “I was just there. He’s having trouble, the system appears to be predicting his actions and blocking him.”

“Sounds familiar,” Quin grunted. “This lot’s been predicting our actions and blocking our movements since we fuckin’ boarded.”

“It’s probably not a coincidence,” Dez added smoothly. The line went momentarily silent.

“Well of course it’s not a damn coincidence, ya genius, it’s–” said Quin, but Dez cut her off.

“They knew we would come.” His voice was cold, unsurprised. “And they were ready for us.”

Fiearius opened his mouth, then shut it quickly. “No way. No way they could have known. We were halfway across the Span last time they saw us. All the ships involved have the Society’s own damn stealth technology. They couldn’t have seen this coming.”

“No,” Dez agreed, his voice oddly calm. “Unless they put the ship here to make us come.”

Fiearius wanted to feel disbelief. He wanted to refute the insulting idea. But what he felt was a terrible, twisting shock in his chest.

The logic slid into place. They’d been winning so often. So easily. They had taken so many ships, downed bases, stations, remote checkpoints, of course the Titan seemed the ultimate prize. Of course they’d go straight to it. And of course the Society would put it right within their grasp.

“Shit — it’s a set-up,” Quin breathed, reading his mind. “They’re just planning to wipe us all out in one fell swoop — “

“And they’re fuckin’ succeeding,” added Rax angrily.

Dez’s voice cut through the others like a knife. “We need a plan.”

“Soliveré, the fuck do we do now?” shouted Quin.

“You’ve got that special chip thing,” said Rax, his voice rising with panic. “Can’t you do something with it?”

But Fiearius could barely grasp their voices. They were coming at him like waves, and he could feel himself sliding away from the moment, drowning in his own head. How — how — had he let this happen? Cyrus and Leta were on the ship, and he was here, and —

“Soliveré!” Quin shouted again.

“Fiearius, a course of action.”

Course of action? He could hardly plot the course of his finger as he moved it to press the COMM button. “Uh –”

“That’s not a fuckin’ answer, Soliveré, don’t you go still on us now!”

Answers. Solutions. Of course. Finally, the fog started to clear.

“Retreat,” he barked. “Back to the ships. Undock and fire at will. We need to get the hell out of here.”

—————

Leta paced across the command center floor, her figure periodically appearing and disappearing from Cyrus’ peripheral vision as he furiously tapped away at the console. “Please tell me you’re getting somewhere with this,” she begged.

Cyrus twitched in irritation. No matter what he did, no matter which method he tried, he just kept getting error after error after error. Every trick he knew kept yielding the same negative results and despite Leta’s hopes, he really was getting nowhere.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” he admitted as he hit the return and got the same blinking red screen. “It’s too secure, I can’t break into it. It’s–”

Abruptly, the floor beneath him began to tremble — slowly at first, then more urgently. Then the console screens flashed, the lights on the ceiling brightened, and a tremendous sound of electricity — like it was seizing and surging, powering up — overtook the room.

“Cy.” Leta grabbed onto a wall as the floor rattled below. “What’s happening?”

“It’s — it looks like — “ His eyes flew over the screens. He could barely answer her. “This ship, it’s about to make a jump.”

“What?!” Leta’s voice was shrill and horrified. “With us on it? Cy, stop it, you have to — “

“Stop it?! I can’t even access the basic oxygen recycling functions, let alone navigation!” he cried, one hand digging into his hair as his other flew over the keyboard.

Just then, a cool, calm female voice erupted over the intercom, making them both freeze. Please take your seats and prepare for jump. Please take your seats, and prepare for jump. Please prepare for …

“We need to get out of here,” Leta breathed, pushing away from the wall and grabbing Cyrus’ wrist in one motion. Together they flew into the hallway, which was mercifully empty now.

As they ran, Leta shouted into her COMM, “Fiearius? Fiear, are you there? We need you!”

The speaker crackled, and Fiearius’ voice broke through. “Leta? What’s going on?”

“We’re in the B-deck of the Titan and it’s about to jump out of this system, you need to guide us to one of Quin’s ship’s — “

Fiearius’ voice crumbled in disbelief. “One of Quin’s–but you’re on one of Quin’s ships. They saw your team board the Lagartha, Eve and–’

Cyrus and Leta exchanged a look of naked horror. “Fiearius,” he yelled, “Eve’s not with us!”

“Then where the hell are — ”

But then, Fiearius’ voice began to fade in and out, dissolving into crackling, hot static. Leta kept calling his name desperately into the COMM, but Cyrus felt himself going numb, enveloped by shock: around them, the dark metal walls of the ship gave a warm rumble, the floor seemed to jut out below them, and bright starlight streaked in long, horizontal lines past the nearest window. In one second, Fiearius and the Dionysian and Quin’s ships had become galaxies away.

“Cute, real cute, now can we focus?” said Eve, coming to a stop so sharply that Cyrus nearly staggered into her. It was obvious why Eve was joining he and Leta; she was the muscle and weapon. Her favorite assault rifle was clutched readily in her hands. “Cap’n, where to?” she said to the piece in her ear, and seconds later, Fiearius’ voice filled the line.

“Command center is around that corner. To the left. It’ll be — ”

But then, Fiearius’ words were drowned out by a thunderous, rumbling of metal, like the Titan had fired off one of its cannons.

“What was that?” said Leta.

“Don’t worry about it. Just get to the command center, alright?”

“That’s reassuring,” said Leta dryly, dropping her hand from her ear and crossing forward quickly. “C’mon, this way.”

Cyrus followed Leta as she rounded the corner toward the command center entrance, but they didn’t find the deserted hallway he’d been hoping for. Instead — his eyes widened — it was a growing firefight. Down the hallway, Society agents ducked down against the walls as Quin’s people (considerably less organized) stormed down the stairs, gunfire zinging around them …

For a full ten seconds Cyrus was paralyzed — until he felt Leta steer him towards a console in the wall. “Cy, get the door open!”

“Wh — right, on it,” said Cyrus quickly, stepping toward the screen and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. In his peripheral, he felt Leta keeping watch over their corner of the hallway, her gun in her hand at her side. Meanwhile, Eve was stalking up and down the corridor, rifle at the ready, like an extremely protective watchdog.

“Snap to it, would ya?” she grunted as his fingers flew over the screen. “This fight’s gettin’ closer.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Can ya work faster? Don’t reckon the captain would appreciate anything happenin’ to either of you.”

At last, with a rush of air, the doors to the command room glided open. Cyrus hurried inside, his companions on his heels, and quickly closed the doors behind them — they were barricaded in safely. For now.

“Leta, watch those security screens,” he ordered, moving toward the main row of consoles. “Make sure no one’s coming this way.”

“And what about me?” said Eve curiously, like Cyrus was telling her what to bring to the family picnic. Then she added helpfully, “Your brother usually has me on headshot duty. Y’know, keep people from comin’ up behind him and shooting him in the head.”

“Well … do that,” Cyrus said blankly. “Yeah, keep doing that.”

Then he quickly started tapping away at the screen of the main console. This should be easy, he thought to himself. Just a few minutes. There was always a very simple trick to Society systems that made them practically childsplay to override. All he had to do was type in that and hit this and–

But where he expected to see the full access control screen, he instead saw an error. He started to try again when Leta caught his attention.

“Hang on, someone’s coming — “ said Leta, and when Cyrus looked up in alarm, she added, “Wait, it’s Dez,” with an expression of relief and confusion on her face. Frowning, she hit the controls to open the doors.

In marched Dez, like a determined soldier. His face was hardened with seriousness as he said, “What’s going on? Have you accessed the ship yet?”

“No, it’s–” Cyrus began in frustration, but shook his head. He didn’t have time to explain this. “They’ve caught on and closed the backdoor I use. I’ll have to find another.”

“How’s it going out there?” Leta asked, but Dez clenched his jaw grimly.

“Badly. It’s a bloodbath. My team’s pinned down. We’re losing ground and quickly. Haven’t you been getting my COMM messages? I’ve been calling for back-up for the last ten minutes.”

Fleetingly, Cyrus glanced at the COMM piece in Leta’s ear. Its usual green glow had switched to red. “This room’s too sealed, must be blocking our signals.”

“Sorry, Dez, couldn’t help ya anyway,” said Eve, shouldering her rifle. “Cap’n specifically told me not to leave these two. Have to find help elsewhere.”

“The captain ordered that before we started losing,” Dez grunted.

Eve pursed her lips. “Dez, I like ya, but I don’t take orders from anyone but Fiearius.”

“Time is running out, Harper,” Dez barked coldly, stepping toward the door. “We’re dropping like flies, and you’re doing nothing in here?”

“Go,” said Leta suddenly, to Cyrus’ surprise. “Eve, you should go. We can handle ourselves here. We’ll catch up to you, okay?”

Eve hesitated. “Adler, the captain told me personally to watch you real close — ”

“I’m sure he did.” Leta smiled. “But go. I promise, we’ll be fine.”

At last, she clenched her jaw and nodded.

Dez snorted his approval. “See, they’ll be fine, let’s go.” He headed for the door and Eve reluctantly followed, her eyes trailing back on Leta and Cyrus as she entered the hallway and disappeared.

As Leta crossed the room to seal the door again, Cyrus couldn’t help but mutter, “Hope we can keep that promise.”

———–

This was not how this was supposed to go.

This many ships on their side, their army of people, it should have been enough. Mathematically, it should have been enough to take on the crew of the Titan. They had done this so many times before now. They were good at it. They should have been winning this. Easily.

Fiearius knotted his fingers in his hair, clenching his eyes shut as he stalked around the Dionysian’s bridge. Why was everything going so wrong? He felt like he was ready to snap in half, and it didn’t help when Dez’s voice came through the speakers.

“They’ve cut off access to the bay. We can’t get through.”

Fiearius groaned. “Double back to the C5 corridor, there’s another entrance.”

“Send ‘em back our way!” shouted Rax, his voice nearly drowned out by gunfire. “We’re getting slaughtered over here. Four men down, ten injured from that proximity blast.”

Fiearius lowered his hand from his hair, trying to absorb this news while fighting the urge to kick over the captain’s chair.

Finn lowered his beer glass to the counter. “Of course.”

Fiearius was staring over the bar, gazing at the row of bottles though Finn was sure he wasn’t seeing them at all. “I–after Satieri, y’know, when I came back, I was pretty…well, fucked up.”

“You mean when you were talking to yourself and wouldn’t get out of bed?” said FInn brightly. “Yeah, I recall.”

“It was bad. Real bad,” Fiearius admitted. “It was like…I could feel my consciousness drifting away anytime I wasn’t clinging onto it. Which was bad enough, but then Daelen showed up and said I wasn’t going to walk again and–” He put his forehead in his hand and shook his head. “I was just losing it, y’know?”

“You got low,” Finn agreed.

“Worse than low,” Fiearius groaned. “Do you–you’ve heard of Flush right?”

Finn absorbed the sudden, odd question quickly and invisibly. “That shit Society agents used to run on? Yeah, it was in all the best back rooms on Archeti.” He grinned. “Too expensive for me, though.”

“Well. I have a source.” He turned his gaze on him, and it was then Finn noticed how bloodshot his eyes were. “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought–I was in a pit and I didn’t think I could ever get out of it. But Flush was–I don’t know, it looked like a rope so I grabbed it.”

Finn couldn’t mask his shock. He had no idea, and he considered himself an excellent judge of people. “You’re using now?” he demanded in disbelief.

Fiearius closed his eyes, a portrait of guilt. “It’s not like I want to,” he breathed. “But it helped! It really did. I don’t think I could have gotten better without the stuff. It was the only option I had. Now though?” He sunk again. “I don’t need it anymore. I’m better. But–I can’t kick it.”

“You’ve been trying to quit?”

“For over a month,” Fiearius admitted. “I can make it about four days before it starts to feel like my insides are trying to wring themselves out. I made it five last week and I was coughing up blood for a straight hour before I gave in.” Digging his hands into his hair, Fiearius shook his head. “It’s what they always say with Flush. Either the drug itself slowly kills you…”

“Or the withdrawals will,” Finn finished. “Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“I managed it before. But that was–well, it was hell as it was then and I’m not nearly that young anymore. This time, I–I just honestly don’t know if I even can do this.”

Finn paused, and then said slowly, “I take it Leta doesn’t know.”

Fiearius cast him a hopeless glance. “Would I be here if she did?”

“And you don’t plan to tell her.”

“I almost did. A few times. But–I couldn’t. Gods, she would never forgive me. She’ll just see it as a betrayal. Not only am I taking a potentially fatal drug she certainly wouldn’t approve of, I took it because her treatment wasn’t working. After everything she did. I can’t tell her. I can’t.”

Finn lapsed into a stunned silence. Of course Fiearius couldn’t tell Leta, but of course he should have; she was a doctor. But Finn wasn’t going to be the one to tell Fiearius to confess to his girlfriend that he’d been lying for six months.

“But you need off of it,” Finn finished. “And here’s the thing: she’s going to find out eventually.”

“I know. Trust me, I know. Either I tell her now or when she finds me expelling my internal organs into a rubbish bin, I know. The results will be the same regardless. I guess I’m just trying to delay the inevitable…”

“And you need off it,” Finn reminded sharply. “And you can’t ask your doctor-lady for help. So what about Daelen? Talk to him.”

“Daelen? Sure, can’t talk to Leta, talk to her longtime friend instead.”

“He’d keep it quiet, mate. He wouldn’t tell Leta. He takes confidentiality seriously.”

“Maybe he would, but then she’ll think he’s betrayed her too,” Fiearius argued. “I won’t put the guy in that position. It’s not his problem.”

“Well you need off this drug. And apparently quitting cold turkey isn’t going to work.” Finn looked him up and down in concern. “So what’re ya gonna do?”

“Honestly?” Fiearius looked over at him, hopelessness in every facet of his expression. “I have no idea.”

————

Hours after they’d left the Dionysian, when Cyrus and Addy were slowly wandering back to the ship docks, it was hard to believe Cyrus had ever been nervous at all. He was no expert on what constituted a ‘good’ date, but the way she had shared in his excitement as they perused the science museum, the way she had humored his stupid jokes over dinner, and particularly the way she strolled beside him now, so close that their arms brushed against each other every other step — well, those couldn’t be bad signs, could they?

Currently, he was listening with interest as she relayed to him a tale from years past.

“So I was only an assistant at the time, but even as an assistant, I was supposed to have some say in the repairs. But the whole team just thought ‘oh she’s the boss’ daughter, she’s only here to appease him, she must not know anything.’” She rolled her eyes. “And go figure, they ignored my suggestion and used the TXC sealant and what happened?”

“The water line exploded,” Cyrus guessed.

“The water line exploded!” Addy said, shaking her head. “If only they’d listened to little old me.”

Cyrus laughed. “You’ve basically just described my entire university experience.”

For some reason, Addy’s smile faded slightly. “Oh yeah?”

“I guess it was since I was younger than most everyone there, but any group project? Same story. Though I guess that’s kind of inevitable when you get five undergrad egos in a room together, huh?”

“Oh, I bet,” she said agreeably, but there was no denying it — she definitely lost her smile this time, she had definitely shifted her gaze away. Had he said something wrong? But how could he have upset her? The evening air was warm, with a pleasant breeze; the sea of stars overhead were bright white; they were entirely alone, walking down the docks along a row of darkened ships.

But before he could venture a guess, Addy suddenly said, in a rush of a confession, “I actually never went to university.”

“What?” said Cyrus at once, confused. Together, they came to a stop beneath the Beacon. Addy hovered next to one of the ship pillars, massaging her neck in embarrassment.

“I didn’t want to tell you because, well, it’s humiliating. That you finished grad school when you were freakin’ 21 and here’s me — no actual education, working in my dad’s workshop — ” She caught her hand around her neck and stared at him with wide, startled grey eyes.

Cyrus was stunned — not that she hadn’t gone to school, but that he had the power to make anyone, let alone Addy, feel self-conscious. She was searching over his face as if scared he was about to insult her, and he quickly began shaking his head.

“You really–I can’t–but you’re so amazing!” he sputtered in disbelief. Addy looked skeptical. “I can’t believe you’ve never had formal training. I mean, the things you’ve done with the Beacon, they’re incredible. You may have never studied engineering, but you’re amazing at it.”

“Without a degree,” Addy argued dully, “I’m really just a mechanic.”

Cyrus scoffed. “No. No no no, you are not a mechanic. Trust me, I’ve worked with some of the more renowned engineers in the field and you.” He smiled at her and took one of her hands in his. “You are one of the best engineers I’ve ever met.”

Addy let out a laugh, a genuine, ringing laugh. “You’re just saying that because we’re on a date and you have to flatter me.” She took his hand and swung it playfully to the side.

“No way,” Cyrus laughed. “If I was trying to flatter you, I’d say you’re the most beautiful engineer I’ve ever met. But that’s not the truth.” She raised her brows at him in interest. “The truth is, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

She shook her head, adopting an air of disbelief. “Now I know you’re trying to flatter me.”

“Believe what you want, I know what’s real,” he said with a shrug, and it was then that Addy tightened her hold on his hand and stepped closer, gently closing the distance between them.

Cyrus felt his insides clench with nerves. But when Addy’s expression softened with affection, her fingers hooked around his shirt collar and her lips brushed against his in a soft, warm kiss, he realized this wasn’t difficult or awkward at all. His eyes fell closed and he thought that this, somehow, felt impossibly natural.

Quietly, Addy said, “I had a really good time tonight,” and he could feel her smiling against his lips. He also feel himself turning red, so all he said was, “Me, too,” before leaning into their kiss. She responded in turn, gently leading him backwards until her back met the ship’s wall. Her hand tightened around his arm, his hands slid down to her hips and just as passion surged through their embrace, Cyrus felt an instinct that made him draw back an inch.

“We should–shouldn’t we take this–y’know, slow?” he breathed, forcing himself to drag his gaze away from those incredibly tempting lips.

“Oh, right, yes.” Addy nodded once in agreement, her breath short and her face flushed. “Slow. Slow is good.”

Cyrus paused for a moment longer before he couldn’t help but blurt out, “But a little more couldn’t hurt, right?”

A shy grin spread across her face. “I doubt it,” she said quickly, wrapping her forearm around his neck as he leaned in to deepen their kiss.

“Are you okay?” said Addy, laughing as she approached and crouched down to help him.

“Yeah, yeah, totally fine,” he said, despite the fact that his foot was throbbing in his boot. “Are you okay?” he asked without thinking, wincing as he lifted the box with his arms and discarded it back onto the pile.

Addy laughed again. “I’m a little jet-lagged, but I’m okay.”

Luckily, it was then that Fiearius and Corra purposely moved away, leaving them alone, or as alone as they could be at the base of the bustling cargo bay.

“That’s good,” he said blankly, brushing his dirt-streaked palms together. “The okay part I mean. Not the jet-lag, that’s bad. I didn’t mean–” Abruptly, he cut himself off because he was babbling like an idiot. He could talk to her just fine over the COMM, why was he so terribly bad at talking to her face to face?

Just pretend it’s like before, he told himself and finally managed to sound at least a little normal when he asked, “So are you here long?”

“Actually, I’m not sure. Corra just decided at the last minute that we should come here.”

So probably not long then, Cyrus realized, his heart sinking slightly. Then this might be his only chance. He’d been kicking himself for not having the guts to ask her out the last time the Beacon had been around and that was well over a month ago. Wasn’t the last month supposed to teach him something? If he could help bring down Society bases and strongholds and ships? Surely he could ask Adrasteia Atelier for a date.

So before he even had the opportunity to second guess himself, before he could talk himself out of it, he decided to have courage. “Well since you’re here, how about that dinner I promised?” he asked suddenly and then added, “I mean, unless you have plans already.” A little courage anyway.

Addy’s smile softened, but not out of any sort of displeasure. “No. I don’t have plans.”

Relief flooded through him at once. “Yeah?” he asked, failing to mask his excitement. “That’s–well, great. Then–” But then the familiar dread of panic came back. He had no idea where to go. He didn’t know this planet at all. He barely even knew which planet they were on.

“I–I didn’t know you were coming,” he told her hastily, “So I didn’t have time to really plan or do any research on what’s around here or what’s good or–”

“That’s okay!” said Addy, waving him off. She supplied him another smile that made his heart flip over in his chest. “Let’s just go exploring, how about that?”

———————–

Corra had never imagined that she might actually be nervous to talk to Leta. Nervous? To talk to her best friend? It was nonsense. But as she approached the infirmary, nervous was exactly what she felt. For the moment, Leta stood at the counter, scrolling through a console screen, her brow furrowed with concentration. Corra hovered in the doorway, and for a few seconds, Leta had no idea she had a visitor.

Corra swallowed her nerves. It was true: things between them hadn’t been the same recently. The Beacon and the Dionysian had very effectively gone their separate ways and Leta had become more than just physically distant because of it. It was easy to guess why. She probably saw the Beacon’s lack of assistance as being unfaithful in spite of their actual logic behind the decision. Corra could only hope that this impromptu visit might serve to mend things a little.

Fighting back her nerves, it was with her usual cheerful enthusiasm that Corra said, “Whatcha workin’ on, Doctor Adler?”

At once, Leta dropped her hand from the screen and turned around, shocked. “Corra? What’re you doing here?” But it wasn’t an unpleasant shock in her face

Without waiting for an invitation, Corra lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Leta. “I missed you,” she declared, squeezing her head against her chest before she was unable to stop herself from looking up at her and begging, “Please stop hating me.”

“You — what?” Leta let out an uncertain laugh, pressing her chin over Corra’s shoulder. “Hate you? I don’t — “

“You do, I can tell you do,” Corra insisted, releasing her and taking a step back. “You never call me anymore and when I call you, you always sound like you’d rather be doing something else and you never tell me what you’re up to and I know it’s because we’re not helping you fight the Society, I know, but please don’t hate me for it, please.”

“Corra, I don’t hate you. Of course I don’t. We’ve just had a really crazy few weeks around here. All these raids.” She smiled sadly. “I swear I’m not ignoring you.”

Corra felt her panic subside a little. But all she managed was, “Really?”

“Of course really!”

“So you’re…not mad that we’re not helping out?”

Leta heaved a sigh. “It sucks, but I understand. And I’m not ignoring you, there’s just — a lot going on. And on top of it all, Fiear’s been really sick lately.”

Leta leaned back against the counter, folding her arms. Across from her, Corra sat on the edge of an exam bench, dangling her feet toward the floor, and they both settled into the normal rhythms of their long talks.

“I thought Fiear looked a little under the weather,” Corra muttered. “What’s the matter with him?”

“He’s had the flu off and on for a month. And he’s exhausted. It could be stress, honestly, with all of these raids … “

“Could be,” Corra agreed. “He’s not really known for taking the best care of himself.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, though. It’ll pass eventually,” Corra assured her. “And if it doesn’t and you get sick of him coughing on you, you’re still welcome on the Beacon y’know,” she added cheerfully. “Daelen’s a good doctor and all, but Finn has this bad habit of getting beat up so we could probably use another.”

Leta smiled thinly. “I’ll keep the offer in mind. Hey — how are things with Finn, anyway? Do you two get along okay?”

“Turns out we make a pretty good team,” Corra told her, grinning. “He does all the charming and I do all the shooting.” She formed her fingers into a gun shape and pretended to fire it, making Leta laugh. “Works out great.”

“So you’re like, friends now?” Leta looked amused. “I thought you used to hate him.”

“I never hated him,” she defended. “Just didn’t like him. I mean, he’s still cocky and arrogant and annoying, but after spending all this time with him, I guess I just ‘get him’ more, y’know? He’s an alright guy deep down.”

“Well, that’s good.” Leta paused, and suddenly her expression shifted with sudden amusement. Or maybe it was disgust.

“Hang on. You’re not like — you two, you and Finn, you’re not — you’re not — “

“What?!” Corra cried laughing incredulously and internally wondering if she had done something to hint at the more intimate side of her relationship with her co-captain or if Leta just knew her too well. “Of course not!” And with a sly smirk, she added, “I know better than to get involved with a captain.”

“Fair enough,” said Leta, but she still look unconvinced. “I just happened to hear that you two happened to get a little close before…”

Corra groaned. “Is Niki still telling people about that? I’m gonna kill that kid.” She shook the thought from her head and met Leta’s stare squarely. “Yes, we made out that one time on Paraven, no, it wasn’t a big deal, okay?”

Leta laughed and shrugged. “Alright, alright. It’s just not fair, you know everything about my love life and lately you’ve told me next to nothing about yours.”

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” Corra lied. “Trust me, you’d be the first to know.”

————

“So after we got the ship back,” Finn was saying, taking a pull from his beer and then lowering the glass to the bar counter, “Corra just goes up to the guy. And I think he was expecting her to just shout at him or I don’t know what, but she goes up to him, just lifts her fist and decks him across the face.”

Fiearius laughed. “Sounds like our princess alright. She’s something, that girl.” He tilted his beer towards his lips.

“Got that right.” Finn snorted, letting his gaze wander around the crowded pub. It’d been months since he’d sat down for a beer with someone for anything but business reasons. While Corra was running her ‘personal errand,’ Finn had quickly taken the opportunity to spend a few hours with his own friend.

But unless Finn was very much mistaken (he was sure he wasn’t), Fiearius was not completely at ease this evening, even as they ordered another round and relaxed at the bar. Finn glanced sideways at him. “So that about catches you up on our exciting adventures,” he mused. “What’s going on with you? Besides attacking the Society. How’re things with the lady?”

Fiearius’ expression flickered. “Good,” he said at last. “They’re good. Things are good.”

“Oh yeah? Really?” Finn lifted a brow expectantly, but Fiearius averted his eyes.

“No. No, she’s great. Things are great.”

Finn waited a beat, simply letting the happy chatter of the bar fill in for him. Then, Fiearius said abruptly, “Can I tell you something? Something you won’t repeat to anyone else.”