And that was that. He’d been left with more questions than answers. The rest of the week, they’d been polite, if a bit terse, and simply avoiding one another.

Of course, Fiearius couldn’t begin to explain this to Cyrus. He simply leaned back in his seat and replied, casually as he could, “What the hell is there to figure out anyway, Cy? We were a little drunk, we argued, we got physical, it’s not like some grand mystery of the universe.”

The answer was clearly not the one Cyrus wanted, but fortunately he didn’t press it. He just eyed his brother wearily and seemed to give it up. Seemed to. Up until he opened his mouth and said, “I don’t want you hurting her.”

At that, Fiearius gave a start. “Excuse me?”

“She’s been through enough recently,” Cyrus went on, furrowing his brow seriously. Fiearius couldn’t help but wonder if this had been rehearsed. “Everything that happened with Ren and the Baltimore and Satieri. It’s a lot on one person. And the last thing she needs is you mucking things up even more.”

“Mucking things up?”

“I’m asking you, as your brother and as her friend, to just lay off. She’s had enough crap thrown at her recently, she doesn’t need any more.” He paused, and then said boldly, “She doesn’t need to be another notch on your bedpost.”

Frankly, Fiearius couldn’t believe this surreal conversation was even happening. Cyrus was possibly the least confrontational person he knew.. “Wow,” was all he could say at first, almost laughing. “Just…wow. I’m so glad that’s what you think of me.” Closing his eyes, he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. At last he admitted, quietly, “She wouldn’t be.”

Cyrus didn’t answer, though even with his eyes clamped shut, Fiearius could feel his stare. Finally, he asked with all the knowingness of a sibling, “How deep does this go?”

Dragging his hand away, Fiearius looked over at him. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I mean–I care about her. I respect her. I trust her. I don’t know?” A bitter grin ran across his face, then faded slowly toward thought, and he found himself talking more than usual.

“There’s something about her,” he went on, mumbling now. “Or, I guess, about being around her. She makes me feel better. And I don’t mean less crappy. She makes me feel– “ But the words failed him. Cyrus tilted his head at him curiously, but still said nothing. “To everyone else,” he tried to explain, “I’m just this reckless murderous psychopath with a spaceship, too far gone to ever come back from that. And I’ve come to believe them. That’s just who I am and it’s hopeless. But with her, it’s not like that. That’s not an excuse. She believes I can be better than that and it’s…I don’t know, it’s refreshing. It’s refreshing to have someone who doesn’t look at me like I’m a lost cause.”

Cyrus was watching him with a perfectly blank expression. Though of all the things Fiearius expected him to say, the last was, “I don’t look at you like that…”

Which was completely beside the point. Fiearius glared at him and then rolled his eyes. “Well okay, but you’re my brother, so I’m not really interested in you, thanks.”

“But you’re interested in Leta?”

Fiearius opened his mouth, then sharply closed it again. “It doesn’t matter,” he decided at last. “You said it yourself. She’s been through enough. Need I remind you she just got dumped by her fiance? You know, the one she spent a year trying to save only to find him off his rocker?” He snorted. “Doubt she’s in the mood for something new.”

“Pretty sure that’s up to her.”

“Sure, but it’s up to me too. And I don’t wanna be that guy’s replacement. Nor do I want to be around when he inevitably comes back from crazy town and sweeps her off her feet.”

Cyrus shrugged one shoulder. “That’s a fair point. But you don’t know that’s going to happen. I don’t think their relationship is quite that black and white. Nor do I think yours is. And you’re definitely nothing like Ren so you’d be a shitty choice of replacement regardless.” Cyrus smirked, but Fiearius felt miles away from amused.

“I’m just saying, that sounds like an excuse,” Cyrus went on knowingly. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve felt real, actual human emotions, but it’s not that scary, y’know. Trying something. Maybe there’s some risk involved, but if she really makes you feel so good, maybe it’s worth it. Who knows?”

Fiearius said nothing as he leaned his head on his hand. Although he would never admit it aloud, he couldn’t ignore the fact: Cyrus had a point.

Trying to brush that uncomfortable thought aside, Fiearius muttered, “What’s with you anyway? One minute you’re asking me to leave her alone, the next you want me to be her damn boyfriend, I don’t get it.”

Cyrus smirked sideways at him. “All I want is for you to stop causing problems,” he admitted absently. “And either of those would do it. It’s the in-between I have trouble with. Though if you choose the latter, I don’t need to hear about the details. Or worse, witness the details. Ever. If it’s all the same to you.”

Fiearius snorted. “Noted. Though it’s a little ironic, y’know. Taking relationship advice from you, of all people.”

“Are you taking relationship advice from me?” Cyrus laughed. “What are you going to do?”

It was a question Fiearius should have answered by now. He knew that. His back-and-forth with Leta had been tumultuous and perplexing for months. But suddenly, more than ever before, Fiearius feel the pieces coming together — some things started making sense. Some things were coming rapidly into focus.

Reaching forward to the console, he pulled up the navigation and switched the ship’s destination from Archeti to Tarin — if he remembered correctly, Tarin was a place Leta liked. Even better then. “I have an idea.”

“Everything we have is going straight to fuel, since this girl eats like a monster,” Corra went on. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do when our crew asks for their paychecks and I’m pretty sure we’ll run out of food eventually. But all we seem to be able to do is bring it petty chump change and it’s getting us nowhere.”

“I’m willing to forgo payment if it’s of any comfort,” Daelen said. Corra smiled at him, but shook her head.

“That’s sweet, but I doubt the lot we picked up on Carthis will feel the same. And there’s thirty of them and only one of you…”

“It’s only been a week,” put in Addy, looking hopeful. “It’ll get easier.”

“No,” said Finn suddenly, swigging his beer and lowering it to the dashboard with a thud. “Corra’s right. We need a long-term plan here. Something sustainable.”

“I suppose legal work is out of the question,” Daelen put in thoughtfully. Finn and Corra simply stared at him.

“Right,” Daelen muttered. “Never mind.”

“Can’t do legal work on a stolen Society vessel anyway, mate,” Finn sighed. “We need a connection to the black market. These one-off gigs are gonna get us nowhere.”

Corra had to agree. “When the Dionysian was first starting out, they partnered with Goddora. Not that anyone should partner with that son of a bitch, but maybe we need something like that? We need our own Goddora.”

“Actually — “ Finn ruffled his hair into untidiness, then suddenly dropped his hand to his knee. He looked quite thoughtful, which was most unusual. “I might know a guy.”

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

The canopy of white stars filling the Dionysian’s window was the most beautiful sight Fiearius could imagine. After two months in the infirmary, he’d never been happier to sit in his own chair, enjoy the view and simply listen to the quiet around him. Gods, he had missed this.

Carefully as he could, he lifted his legs onto the control panel, wincing as pain shot up his knees — probably he was due for another dose of Flush. He’d taken one pill this morning when he’d awoken to a searing pain jolting up his spine, but the effects were starting to wear off. In his younger years, he rarely needed more than one pill to feel invincible for hours and hours. But in his younger years, he wasn’t recovering from a crippling injury.

Fortunately, the other effects — the heightened energy levels, the mild deliria, the loss of judgment and control — were starting to lessen. For the first week, he’d been all over the place, with high-highs and low-lows that had caused more than a few problems, but nearly two weeks in, his body was starting to readapt to the old system.

He was just about to reach under the control panel to grab one of  the pills he’d stashed there when he heard footsteps approaching. He quickly withdrew his hand just in time as Cyrus marched tiredly into the cabin.

Fiearius watched as his brother dropped into the co-pilot’s seat, swung his feet onto the panel, took in a deep breath and proceeded to gaze out the window without a word of hello.

Fiearius cocked a brow. “Everything okay, little brother?”

“Just exhausted.” He sighed. “Haven’t worked this much in a long time. Between the Dionysian and that mechanic and my freelance and the Beacon…”

Fiearius chuckled. “Please, the Beacon should be a cakewalk to you compared to my beast. Finn and Corra have it good.” Cyrus grunted an appreciative laugh, but predictably, the mention of their former arms master made him grow suddenly quiet.

Fiearius knew exactly what was on his mind.

“Still seems weird, huh?” he asked. “Not having her here. It’s so…quiet…”

“Yeah,” said Cyrus hollowly, before promptly changing the subject. “So where are we going?”

“Archeti,” said Fiearius. “Need to talk to Quin.”

“Something I should be worried about?”

Fiearius grinned. “Not just yet.”

“Well just let me know when to start.”

“‘Course,” Fiearius replied easily, shifting his feet on the dashboard. “So hey. Can I ask you something?”

“We both know that’s rhetorical,” Cyrus muttered dryly.

A slow smile spread over his face. “The blonde girl?”

Cyrus seemed to be waiting for the question to continue. When it didn’t, he snapped, “Addy? Yes? What about her?” When Fiearius answered only with a suggestive raise of his brow, Cyrus snapped, “Stop.”

“What, why?” Fiearius demanded. “She’s cute. And she’s almost as nerdy as you are. It’s not that far-fetched. You should pursue it.”

Cyrus looked over at him incredulously. “Pursue it? She’s not prey, Fiear. She’s a highly competent engineer whose family’s work I greatly respect. And that’s why she’s halfway across the span on the Beacon.”

“Which was a decision that lacked some foresight,” Fiearius commented. “Sending her on a different ship. Far away.”

“It was not. She’s doing a great job.”

“Oh, so you’ve been talking to her then?”

Cyrus pushed his glasses up his nose, flustered. “Yes, actually. Miraculously, she’s still willing to speak to me even after I exposed her to you.” The malice in his voice made Fiearius’ amusement collapse. He knew what was coming, before Cyrus even said, “Speaking of which.”

“Oh, let’s not,” Fiearius groaned, immediately looking away. Up until now, it was with mutual understanding that he and Cyrus had avoided discussing What Had Happened In The Bridge Last Week. Fiearius sure as hell couldn’t meet his eyeline when it came to how his sibling had seen him entangled with Leta up against the wall ….

But apparently, Cyrus was ready to confront the situation. “Well? Have you even talked to her about it?”

“What is this, an interrogation?” Fiearius grunted. “And yes, I have, actually.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did you figure it out?”

Fiearius didn’t answer. No, nothing had been figured out. If anything, when it came to the likes of Leta, Fiearius had never had such conflicting, confusing feelings pulling him every direction.

“We need to talk,” Leta had told him sternly the night after it happened, to which he agreed that yes, they probably ought to. He’d followed her into a quieter alcove of the ship, though before she could speak, he’d said quickly “Look, I’m sorry that things might’ve gotten a little — out of hand, the other night … “

She’d apologized too, her eyes wide and sincere and worried. He resisted the temptation to close the distance between them a second time and respectfully gave her a wide berth. Then she said, bluntly, “Look, Fiearius, I’m not going to just sleep with you, alright?”

It felt as if Fiearius were walking a tightrope. One wrong reaction would send her out of the room. Choosing his words carefully, he managed, “‘Just’? So, what — you want something more, then?”

Her reaction was, admittedly, a touch painful. A knife in his gut. “No,” she had said, “I certainly don’t expect that.”

“I didn’t ask what you expected,” Fiearius clarified quietly. “I asked what you wanted.”

Leta had stared up at him like a deer caught in headlights, but before she could answer, several things happened at once: the speaker on the nearby wall cackled with a message from the Beacon; Amora and Rhys started arguing loudly nearby; and, quickly seizing the moment, Leta excused herself, muttered that she needed some time to think, and fled the room.

Leta didn’t hesitate in trailing Fiearius and Dez all the way up to the bridge, where they were talking privately. She almost stepped inside the cabin — but something in Dez’s voice made her halt in the hallway and listen curiously.

“The Council believes that they’re invincible,” he was saying in a low voice. “Everyone living under their rule thinks they’re invincible.”

“Hell, I think they’re invincible,” Fiearius snorted.

“Well I would like you to use your assets to prove them wrong.”

“Assets?” Fiearius repeated incredulously. “I’ve got a broken ship, a supply drop timetable, and, what, you and me? To take down — what is it you said? Three Satieran frigates and their hundred person crews? Okay, Dez. Sure.”

Take down Society ships? Startled, Leta stole a glance inside. Fiearius was slanted against the wall, arms crossed, skepticism masking his face.

“You have allies,” Desophyles pointed out.

Fiearius raised a brow. “I have business associates,” he corrected.

“Business associates who would likely appreciate the opportunity to acquire three Satieran frigates and their bounty.”

“So what the hell is in it for me, then?”

“Whatever share you require. And,” said Dez, “the satisfaction of striking back.”

Fiearius’ mouth twitch in annoyance. “Well aren’t you filled with a newfound sense of vengeance.”

Dez looked only bemused. “Give it some thought. For now,” he added quietly, “I’ll leave you to your doctor in the hallway.”

Leta gave a start. Without a word, Dez locked eyes with her knowingly, then brushed past her shoulder and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Leta to swing her eyes back to Fiearius.

“What the hell was that about?” she asked incredulously, ignoring the fact that she was just caught in the act of spying. “You’re talking to Dez again? Why?”

“You’re creeping around the halls and eavesdropping now? Why?” he muttered, pushing away from the wall and eyeing her with distaste. He looked like he wanted to get back to work, but Leta stepped sharply into the room.

“You don’t actually trust him now, do you? Tell me you don’t. Tell me you’re not that stupid. “

“Of course I don’t trust him,” he snapped, scrolling through the console screen to ignore her. “Not that it’s any business of yours.”

“He’s supposed to be locked in the brig. What were you two talking about?”

“Just discussing plans. Why are you even worried about it?” he demanded with sudden irritation, cutting her a glare. “Sure as hell isn’t your problem.”

“Yes, it is,” said Leta in surprise. “Dez is definitely a problem if I’m part of this crew.”

Fiearius snorted. “Well you’re not.”

“Wait — what?”

Fiearius glanced to her, eyes cold. “What do you mean ‘what’? You leave my ship, you’re not part of my crew, you got no need to know my business. Don’t see what’s so complicated about that.”

“Leave? Leave, what — ?” Suddenly, realization struck her: perhaps Fiearius had overheard all those times Corra had asked her to leave with her …

“You think — you think I’m going with Corra on the Beacon.” Leta searched over his face, though she wasn’t sure what expression she wanted to find. In this moment he was looking her over swiftly with his jaw clenched, as if sizing her up.

“Why?” she challenged hotly, crossing her arms. “Would that bother you, if I did?”

“No,” he said, turning away. “I don’t care what you do.”

“So I up and leave tomorrow, you won’t even bat an eye.”

“No. I won’t.” He gripped the edge of the console, then turned away and paced an impatient circle in the room. A month of being bedridden must had truly gotten to him, because he was overflowing with roiling, misplaced energy.

As bad of an idea as it seemed, Leta couldn’t help herself. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Because you think I’m leaving?”

Fiearius suddenly stopped making circles, pausing in the middle of the room to stare at her. “What do you want me to say, exactly?” he demanded, twitchy and agitated. “Huh? What do you want from me?”

The question felt like a test.

“I don’t know,” said Leta honestly. “I really don’t. But I wasn’t planning to leave the Dionysian.”

Fiearius met her eyes then looked away, quickly unnerved. “Well why the hell not? It’s a good ship with a good pilot and the captain’s your best friend. You could go anywhere you fucking like. Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because maybe Corra isn’t the only reason I’ve stayed on this ship so long.”

The words tumbled out of her, a vulnerable confession, but she did not take them back.

“You know the way you treat me sometimes,” she went on fiercely, “I probably should leave. Maybe it’s time I do.”

He did not refute it.

Dropping her arms in defeat, Leta stepped backwards for the door, to disappear into the hallway and pretend this confrontation had never happened. But she only made it one step when Fiearius turned to her and said abruptly, “Don’t.” His eyes were blazing over her face, pinning her in place, halfway out the door.

Feeble protests jumped out of her throat, and she started to shake her head. “Fiearius. You can’t tell me that. We can’t keep doing this, you can’t — “

“Don’t,” he said again. His eyes burned on her. “Don’t leave. The Beacon. Don’t do it.”

Leta was stunned into silence by the absolute conviction in his voice just as Fiearius was stirred to action. Suddenly, as though this were the most important task beset upon him, Fiearius marched through the room, caught her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers.

It happened so quickly, such a swift interruption, that Leta went rigid with shock. What was going on? How had they gone from arguing to — to this? Out of pure instinct, her hands reached to grasp his wrists, battling the urge to both shove him off and tug him closer. Her throat made a noise of — desire? protest? — but he swallowed it.

Beneath her shock, the cold, scolding voice in the back of her mind pointed out how completely and entirely foolish this was, kissing Fiearius — But then, the warmer voice, the one that was kinder to her, the one that she rarely listened to, ventured thoughtfully: wasn’t it about time she got something she wanted?

And for that, she felt herself respond.

Raising herself swiftly up to tip-toe, she deepened their breathless kiss while her hand dragged upward, encircling her forearm around his neck. In response, his hand pressed into the small of her back and pushed them back a step until her shoulders met the wall clumsily. A startled breath jutted out of her lips but it was only a half-second before his mouth attacked hers.

At this point, she’d found, resistance was long-lost and futile. Heat rose between them.  He pinned her wrist to the wall with one hand, his other hand clutched her hips, as his mouth pressed hurriedly down her jawline and neck.  Her fingers curved against his taut shoulder, pulling his hips against hers. Their kiss broke jaggedly; she heard his gruff voice in her ear.

“Here?” He meant here, now, the bridge. “Are you — “

Dimly she knew there was every reason to halt him here — what good could possibly come of this? But for once, she found she wasn’t looking for answers. Not now. Which was why she barely breathed, “Yes,” before seeking out his lips once more. He groaned against her mouth, and then his mouth dug against her neck, down her collarbone, and dipped southward.

It was a nearly unyielding embrace. Nearly.

Just when she felt Fiearius’ hands against her obliques beneath the fabric of her shirt, she sensed something else — something off. The air shifted in the room. Her eyes went to the door to their right, and suddenly, horribly, they were not alone at all.

“Uh — “

It was Cyrus halfway in the doorway, shocked, looking rather like he wanted to bolt.  And he wasn’t alone: standing beside him was Adrastreia, the young woman from earlier. Her mouth had fallen open, then she clapped a hand over it, though she looked distinctly more amused than Cyrus did.

“Sorry — I just — “ Cyrus groaned with disgust, pressing his palms against his eyes. “Just wanted to introduce you to Addy — “

Leta slipped away from from Fiearius’ arms just as Fiearius stepped backwards, turning himself away toward the front of the ship. At once, Addy chimed, “We’re so sorry! How about we come back later?”

“Yeah, okay, great,” Fiearius grunted, catching his hand in his hair and refusing to look at any of them.

“Are things always this fun around here?” Addy whispered to Cyrus; he just looked back at her with widened eyes.

“Sorry Cy,” said Leta quickly, her voice remarkably even, all things considered, even if there was a tug of dry horror in her tone. She felt like this would be the proper moment to figuratively bang her head against the wall. Or perhaps literally.

“Really. I’m sorry,” she added, her eyebrows raising faintly as she took a jagged step to the side toward the door,  dazed and unsure of what to make of this moment. Adjusting her shirt, the strap of which had horribly slid down her bare shoulder, she slipped hastily out into the hallway, grimacing profoundly once she was a safer distance from the bridge and from Fiearius.

“So you’re going to store your ship here?” she asked, her voice bright and cheerful. “What kind of ship is it? What are you even doing here anyway? Sorry, I just can’t believe you, of all people, came into this garage. The span is smaller than I thought, huh?”

“Suppose it is,” Cyrus muttered, still feeling bewildered by the last ten minutes. He trailed after her, though it was hard to keep up with her brisk pace; she had a lot of energy.

Forcing friendliness into his voice, he added, “So — Atelier’s daughter? You worked with your dad?”

“Oh yeah.” Pride lifted her voice. “Worked in his garage since I was three years old.”

“How’d you end up here then?”

“I feel like asking you the same thing,” she mused. “But as for me, well … Paradiex isn’t exactly the same place it was when I grew up.” There was something sad in her tone that made Cyrus look up.

“What do you mean?”

“The Society. I don’t know if you’re familiar with what they’ve … “

“I’m familiar,” Cyrus assured her fervently.

“They’re more present in Paradiex than ever before. My dad can’t finish a single project without them knocking on our doors to see what he’s up to.” She heaved a sigh, wrinkling her forehead with distress for a moment. “Anyway, he wanted me to get off-world for awhile, and Carthis seemed the safest bet so here I am.”

She planted her hands at her hips and nodded at the garage laid out before them. It was the messiest workshop Cyrus had ever seen.

“It’s not like, my dream job or anything,” she added, darting him a nervous look. “But it’s hard to find work, y’know. It’s just a temporary gig until, y’know, I  …. find somethin’. I mean, I’m an engineer, not a mechanic. To be honest I’d much rather be on a ship … “

Cyrus nodded. It occurred to him moments too late that she was weary of him judging her.

“But this — this is good too,” she added quickly, brushing strands of hair behind her ear nervously with her wrist. “Anyway, let’s get started, yeah?” She pressed toward the ship’s ramp, swinging her screwdriver out of her pocket once more.

“I was trying to to tell him about the core power problem,” Addy went on, jerking her head in the older mechanic’s direction, “but he wasn’t exactly open to the idea. But maybe we — “

But Cyrus was only half-listening now. His mind was churning with an idea. Cyrus knew Atelier. He was a gifted engineer with an eye for innovation that Cyrus had always deeply respected. And this was his daughter. He stopped abruptly on the edge of the ramp. “Hang on. You said — you said you’d rather work on a ship?”

Addy turned around with another shining grin. “Oh yeah. Definitely. I’d love to see more of the span — this is actually my first time off Satieri, ever, believe it or not.” Her smile slowly faded with question. “Why?”

“Because, well, if you’re serious about it — “ An image of the Beacon’s engine room arrived in his mind. “I know a ship that’s looking for an engineer.”

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

In all her months aboard, Leta had never seen the Dionysian’s mess hall so crowded and lively, especially at this hour of the night. It seemed the crew had found reason to celebrate wildly after months of low morale: the captain was back on his feet, and just as important was a proper send-off party for Corra and Finn.

And for that reason, the liquor was flowing. Shots were thrown back, music was playing, and Rhys was already staggering on his feet as he told rambling, incoherent stories to Amora, who humored him with a shifty look in her eyes.

Meanwhile, Leta stood against the counter and kept close to Corra, nursing her third bottle of beer and trying to keep her mood light.

“Who’s that?” she asked Corra suddenly, lowering her beer. “Over there talking to Cy?”

Across the room, Cyrus was deep in conversation with a young blonde woman Leta did not recognize. He made a gesture with his hands, and she looked surprised, then laughed; whatever they were talking about, it seemed to be going well.

Corra peered in her direction for a moment and then grinned. “Oh, her! That’s Adrasteia. She’s the Beacon’s very first engineer,” she declared proudly. “Cyrus brought her by a couple days ago and told me so anyway. I wasn’t really in any position to argue. They just went down to the engine room and nerded out together for about an hour. Fine by me, but I’m pretty sure there’s an ulterior motive in the appointment. What do you think? Have I been replaced already or what?”

“There’s no replacing you, Corra,” Leta assured her laughingly, but her laughter soon faded into a sincere sigh.

“What’m I going to do without you?” she added, looking away and watching dully as Rhys poured a shot for Javier, who took a tiny sip and was immediately overcome with a violent coughing fit.

“Just come with me,” said Corra at once, leaning over and slapping Javier merrily on the back as he hacked away. “I mean it, chika. Join the Beacon crew.”

It certainly wasn’t the first time Corra had made this suggestion: every few hours, Corra excitedly sprung this idea on her and every time, for some reason, Leta felt herself hesitate. She could not bring herself to answer.

“Have you decided yet? If you want to come with us? No pressure,” Corra added, swigging her beer with one hand and patting Leta’s shoulder with the other. “I mean, a little bit of pressure, because we leave tomorrow, but y’know … “

Leta mustered a smile. “Well you are already taking Daelen away from me,” she noted wryly, glancing over the room toward her old friend, who was talking with Maya. He’d already happily agreed to join the Beacon’s crew as their tending physician (“Not like I have any desire to go back home!” he had declared with a grim laugh), a fact that made Leta sleep a little easier: at least her best friend would be surrounded by an able-bodied crew.

“We can never have enough doctors, though,” Corra teased in a sing-song voice, elbowing Leta in the ribs with such eagerness that Leta nearly staggered backwards. “Eh? Eh?”

Snorting into her beer, Leta pushed her off. Deciding to steer the conversation away from these waters, she asked briskly, “So. What’s the Beacon’s maiden voyage, captain? What’s the first run going to be?”

“Finn’s got something lined up,” she remarked, shrugging. “He was very excited about it so I let him take the lead on this one.” She leaned over and smiled at Leta impishly “Y’know. To keep his ego intact.”

“I heard that,” came Finn’s voice as he approached, shaking a long green bottle at his side. He was not looking at them, but over their heads. “Where’s Fiear? I need to spray him with champagne and remind him how much better my ship is,” he said, and then crossed through the room importantly.

Leta hadn’t actually seen Fiearius all evening, nor much over the past few days. His triumphant (if still somewhat unexplained) return to health had been somewhat soured when he found out about Corra and Finn’s departure. As good as it was to see him on his feet again, Leta got the distinct feeling that he may have been avoiding her. For what purpose, she couldn’t begin to fathom and with Corra halfway out the door, she had put her concern on the backburner for the time being. He’d probably seen enough of her over the past two months in the infirmary anyway.

Leta was fairly certain then that Fiearius wouldn’t be in the mess hall with the rest of the crew, but sure enough, she spotted him then leaning in the doorway, beer hanging loosely in his hand, already smirking at Finn. But he never got the chance to actually act on his bubbly threat: just then, Dez, of all people, stepped into the room, and nodded for Fiearius to join him in the hallway. Fiearius’ smirk dropped off his face, but he followed him, and they disappeared from the mess hall.

Leta could hardly believe her eyes. “Did you see that? What’s Dez doing out of the brig?”

“Fiear let him out this morning,” said Corra, shrugging her shoulders. “Dunno why exactly … that guy’s a total whackjob.”

Leta certainly agreed. And what was he doing with Fiearius?

Suddenly tossing her beer bottle into the garbage can with a thud, she followed them.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –