It was the dirtiest fight Leta had ever seen.

From the far end of the room, she clasped a shaking hand over her mouth and watched, transfixed, as Fiearius somehow tore himself free from the three men that held his torso and then threw himself at Ludo like an uncaged animal.

The sight sent an icy tingle down Leta’s back. Fiearius had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever, he was practically animalistic, almost suicidal in his attempt to throw himself at the fight.

But somehow, Ludo was ready for him.

Broad and burly as he was, he was surprisingly agile — graceful, even — when he slid to the side, seized Fiearius by the back of the neck and slammed his forehead onto the edge of the bar with a sickening crack. A second later, Ludo’s men grasped Fiearius’ shoulder and lifted him, allowing Ludo free reign to push up his sleeves and slam his fist into his Fiearius’ jaw over and over, making blood smear over his mouth.

A horrified yell erupted from Leta’s throat, but it was lost in the chaos: all around her, panic was unfolding as people circled closer to the fight in excitement or rushed to the door in fear.

In the chaos, Leta was pressed up against the wall and had to fight her way forward. In the jostle, she glimpsed the fight: Fiearius, outnumbered as he was, still managed to slam his elbow against one of the men and freed himself a second time. But this time, as he lunged at Ludo, he seized a bottle off the bar and crashed it against Ludo’s temple, shattering glass over the screaming crowd.

Ludo let out a yell as Fiearius shoved him against the wall and raised his fist, fury in his eyes. Before he could swing his fist forward, one of Ludo’s men sliced a knife across the flesh of his shoulder.

Fiearius’ raw growl of pain reached Leta’s ears even from twenty feet away and it made her heart grow cold. He was so outnumbered, it was as if he was fighting a whole army himself. Panic gripped her chest as she pushed herself into the fray — she had to get to Fiearius, she had to help —

Leta flung her hand toward her hip to get her weapon. Horribly, she felt nothing there. Her gun was missing, where was her gun?

Fear plunged through her as she wheeled around in horror. In her peripheral she could see Ludo’s men shove Fiearius to the floor, one of them raising a rifle overhead like a bat. She searched the floor for her gun and heard Ludo laughing; she could hear him say “Do you think they’ll miss you? Do you think they’ll miss you when you’re gone?”

And then, Leta saw it. In the far end of the room, a patron, looking horrified and fearful, held up a handgun, moving it between Ludo and Fiearius in confusion. He wanted to end the fight but didn’t know how. For Leta, it was as though the commotion slowed down and she was afforded an eerie moment of perfect clarity.

Time sped up once more, and before she could think, she advanced toward him and grasped the man’s wrist. With all of her strength she twisted his hand toward the ground, so his gunshot exploded into the floor, making screams erupt all around her.

But that didn’t matter; the gun was hers.

Wheeling around, she cried, “Fiearius!”

Three men were forcing him down to his knees, his arms pulled behind his back, when Leta threw the gun. The weapon skidded under the tables, across the floor, and in one last burst of anger, Fiearius lunged for it.

Ludo’s men went after him, struggling, raising their weapons, but in the next moment, a decisive gunshot cracked through the bar. Screams flew through the crowd before the whole bar suddenly hushed, quiet and still.

Leta stopped breathing, gripped in horror. It was only when she elbowed her way forward to see the aftermath that breath returned to her lungs.

The body of Ludo was sprawled across the floor, lifeless and limp as a ragdoll. Blood pooled and pooled from his head, but Leta did not wince. She did not even blink.

It was over.

Ludo’s men stepped away, backing into the crowd, while Fiearius didn’t move. He stood above the body, his chest was heaving, the gun still pointed at Ludo’s head, a mess of red laid on the floor at his feet. His expression was empty. His eyes were stone. All that fury and rage that had brought him here was gone and his struggling over. Now, he was still. Slowly, he lowered the weapon to rest at his side.

Movement rippled through the room. Ludo’s men were looking around in alarm at one another, deciding what to do, if they wanted to defend Ludo after his death. Anxiety rose in Leta’s chest: they had to get out of here. They had to leave.

But before she could make her numb limbs move, a confused voice arrived in her ear.

“What the hell is –“

“You know, Rhys told me the other day he wants to start drinking less,” she remembered suddenly. “He asked me to help him. Funny, yeah? He was drunk when he asked me, though … And Amora’s great. She’s still trying to marry off Cyrus to her nieces. No luck so far, though.”

“Poor Amora, never can take a hint, that one,” Alyx remarked affectionately. “Who else am I forgetting?”

Leta felt herself clench. Mentioning Aiden’s death wasn’t exactly good table conversation, and she wasn’t sure she could manage it.

“Well, someone new came aboard,” said Leta instead. “Finnegan, this fighter pilot. The deckhands were swooning over him the other day. And then there’s Ludo –” Hesitation passed over Leta’s face, her expression losing its cheer. “Ludo’s there as well, and … “

Abruptly, the tone of the table changed. The look of cheer disappeared from Alyx’s face as she simply gazed over the table, the color draining from her face, leaving her looking stunned.

“Ludo?” she repeated quietly, letting the name fall out of her mouth like she’d eaten something nasty and wanted to spit it out.

Cyrus eyed her in confusion. “You know, Ludo, older guy, beard — “

“No no.” Alyx held up her hand.“No, I know who he is.” Her eyes had gone glassy as she stared in mild horror at the table before her. “I thought he’d be long gone by now.” She just gazed straight through them, almost scared before she dropped her head in her hands. “Oh gods, oh gods…”

The menu slipped out of Leta’s hands. Something was wrong, truly wrong.

Cyrus sat up in alarm. “Hey — hey, what’s the matter?”

When she finally took her hands from her face, there were tears welling in her eyes. “I knew — “ she stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Gods, I knew, I thought so many times, I should have said something. Gods, I should have said something.”

Leta’s heart was starting to beat hard. “Said what?”

Her wet eyes looked up at the both of them as she breathed, “Why I left. Oh gods, I’m so sorry, I just didn’t– I’m an idiot. I needed to say something and I didn’t. Gods, I didn’t. And now, who knows what–” Her voice drowned in her own throat, but she found it again only moments later. “I just wanted to get away as quickly as I could,” she explained hurriedly, “and when the captain took out that Benning ship, it was the perfect opportunity. I just–I just ran.” The tears were streaming down her face now. “I’m so sorry. I’m–I’m so so sorry…”

Leta’s stomach plunged, and kept plunging. She was scared to ask, “What happened?”

Alyx turned pleading eyes upon her, as if begging her to not make her spell it out. But slowly, she took in a deep breath and said, “Ludo, he–”

“He what?” Cyrus asked, held in suspense.

Pitifully, she looked up at him and said shakily, “It was that night after the Obelon gig. A few of us went down into the town to celebrate. Went into town and drank our wages away.” She took a deep breath before she continued on. “On the way back…I guess I drank a lot. I split off from the group. Got a bit lost. I ran into–into Ludo. He said he’d help me back to the ship.” This time, her pause fell even longer, heavier and it took all her courage to continue.

“He–I didn’t really know him,” she explained, stumbling over her words. “We never spoke. But he used to–sometimes on the ship, I could feel him…watching me. But he was crew. Right? And I was lost so I–so I went with him.” Her voice crumbled almost entirely so that she could hardly say, “He– he didn’t take me to the ship though. I was too out of it to fight back I guess. Or just too weak…”

After a moment of thunderstruck, horrified silence, Leta managed to find her voice, which struggled out of her throat.

“You don’t — ” she began, with difficulty. Her eyes burned on Alyx’s for a moment longer. “You don’t have to apologize. For any of that. Ever.” The words emitted with a conviction, which was surprising, considering how suddenly weak and shaky she felt, like she had just caught the flu.

Swallowing down the sickness in her throat, Leta did not hesitate as she suddenly pushed herself to her feet nearly upending their small table in her awkward haste, without a backwards glance toward Cyrus.

“I– I’m going,” she offered blankly, almost as an afterthought: her voice sounded hollow in her ears, quite unlike herself, like it belonged to someone else. Offering no other explanation of where exactly she was going, Leta crossed toward the exit of the cafe, staggering out.

Seconds or minutes later (really, it could’ve been hours), she was back on the street, parting the crowded sidewalk as her feet carried her forward, faster than her mind could process. Really, her mind was a fog, and she hardly noticed as she nearly stepped into passers-by. Ludo had assaulted her. He could have assaulted countless others …

The thought sent a wave of anger through Leta so powerful and hot that it almost scared her.

Her feet pounded up the metal ramp of the Dionysian before she had a chance to process her surroundings

“Leta — ?” ventured a confused voice. It was Javier, who stood in the corner of the cargo bay, a broom in hand. “What, what happened?” he asked shakily.

But Leta hardly heard him. She suddenly gained a sense of tunnel vision, and everyone lingering in the cargo bay were simply blurs in her eyes as she continued forward, her feet moving of their own accord. Part of her was looking for Ludo. She had no idea what she’d do if she saw him.

Up the stairs, through the corridor — she barely noticed where she was going until she halted, sharply, directly inside the doorway of the bridge.

In the cabin, Fiearius was lounged back in the captain’s chair, his feet on the dashboard, in mid-conversation with Corra. They appeared to be picking through a box of guns as Corra said, “Why are we keeping this one? It’s older than you, cap’n — “

Leta stared at them numbly and took her first full breath in what felt like days, a long, uneasy inhale in her chest. She froze and stared, wide-eyed.

“Fiearius,” she breathed, quietly, and he cocked his head toward her. At once, her eyes sprang with tears, her expression falling into a portrait of despair. “Fiear,” she pressed again, and this time his name was heavier on her lips, painful. Fiearius fixed his gaze on her and pushed himself to his feet at once, alarm in his eyes.

Shakily, she pressed her wrist against her mouth, expertly holding back an onslaught of anger and crying. “You were wrong. He did cross you.” Her eyes swam with tears, but she tried to steady her voice as much as possible. “Alyx’s — Cyrus’ friend — she told us. Ludo attacked her.”

What if he didn’t care, what if he didn’t understand? For a moment Leta was panicked as Fiearius did nothing but stare right through her. But then his expression started to change. His jaw twitched, fury arrived in his eyes. He pushed himself toward the door, but not without grabbing the nearest gun and snarling, “Where is he?!”

Leta chose to wait outside on the grand front porch, arms folded against the light breeze. Nearly twenty minutes past while Corra and Will talked.  She could hear their murmured voices near the front door, but was quite sure she didn’t know want to hear their troubled conversation.

At last, the front door banged open.

“Sorry,” said Corra at once, looking pained as she hurried down the steps and down the yard. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“No, that’s alright,” said Leta, her heart sinking at the sight of Corra’s face, her obvious distress. She fell into step beside her, heading toward the ship. “What happened in there? Did you — what’s that?” added Leta quickly, spotting Corra’s balled-up fist.

Corra held up her hand. In it was a round black sphere small enough to fit in Corra’s palm, made of glinting metal, looking aged and dented, like it had been dropped several times.

“Is this a paperweight?” she asked blankly. “Did you steal a paperweight?”

Corra laughed, but the laugh died quickly. “No, much fancier than that. It’s an ancient relic supposedly. Will said it was a gift from Mr. Lawson, but he wanted me to have it.” She smiled sadly.

Lightly, Leta suggested, “Do you want me to throw it at him? His head, maybe?”

Corra laughed again, genuinely this time.  “No. No. It’s a…nice gift. Will thinks it’s some kind of data storage. Whoever gave it to Mr. Lawon said it has the Caelum Lex in it somehow, but he can’t figure out how to get it open.”

Leta eyed the sphere, raising an eyebrow. It seemed impossible that something so scratched and dirty contain information as important and archaic as the Caelum Lex, the colonist’s documented list of laws. True copies of the laws were scattered across the span, valuable, treasured and placed in museums, though as the years passed, even those numbers were dwindling.

“I’ll have Cyrus take a look at it,” Corra mumbled, slipping the sphere back into her pocket as they walked along. Sad silence fell between them. “This was such a mistake,” Corra despaired suddenly, throwing her head back and staring sadly into the night sky. “What the hell was I thinking, coming out here and trying to ‘save’ somebody who obviously doesn’t need to be saved…”

“But now you know,” Leta pressed. “And you did offer something really kind to Will.”

Corra sighed heavily and shook her head. “I wasn’t even really doing it for him. I wasn’t thinking about him. It’s stupid. It’s so stupid. I just had this stupid idea that me and him could get a ship of our own and go off on some grand adventure like we used to talk about growing up. But that’s ridiculous, of course. How would we even? And why would he want to?” Frustrated, she shoved her hands in her pockets and frowned at the ground. “The whole thing was stupid.”

Leta had never heard Corra speak this way before. Unpleasant surprise ran through her. “Wait. You want to leave the Dionysian?”

At once, Corra looked as though she’d been caught in the act.

“I–well–no,” she stuttered, shaking her head. “Though…It’s not that I want to leave exactly. The Dionysian’s my home. And it’s crew is my family.” She frowned and looked away. “I don’t know what I’d do without them. You all mean the world to me. But…”

She looked up at her again and hesitated, struggling for her words. “The thing is, I’ve been gifted this rare opportunity. Not many allies ever get released from their deeds. But I did. And what am I doing with it on the Dionysian? Nothing. I mean, taking care of the armory for a criminal I guess, but…that doesn’t really sound that meaningful in the end does it?”

“It’s not that I’m unhappy,” she clarified quickly. “I’m not. I love it there and I like what I do and I don’t really want to leave, but…” Her voice trailed off as she watched her feet take step after step below her. “Aiden–he used to say I need to do what’s right for me. Life’s too short to spend your time following paths you’re not satisfied with. And for whatever reason, maybe the whole ordeal on Kadolyne or all that mess with Cyrus or maybe just a general passage of time and growth or, whatever…the Dionysian’s just not satisfying me anymore.”

Corra finally took her eyes off her feet and rested them on Leta sadly. “I don’t wanna leave,” she said again. “But I think maybe it’s time that I should.”

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

An hour later, the ship lay dark, sleepy and silent. Leta stood in the kitchen counter alone, stirring tea, the spoon clinking gently in the mug. As soon as they’d reached the Dionysian’s ramp, Corra muttered in defeat that she was going to bed and then disappeared towards her quarters. Wishing there was something more she could do, Leta simply bid her a sad goodnight.

Standing there numbly, Leta’s mind buzzed. Corra wanted to leave? Leta knew she would be leaving soon herself — of course — but Corra’s departure from the ship still struck her as a horrible loss.

And what would Cyrus say, if he knew? He would be crushed.

Abruptly Leta turned and reached for the a bottle of whiskey in the cabinet. After this day, her tea needed livening up. She was just wasting the whiskey bottle under her nose when a sudden voice made her jump out of her skin.

“Drinking alone?”

It wasn’t Fiearius, it wasn’t Cyrus. It was Ludo, of all people, who had materialized in the doorway. Leta had the sudden sense that he’d been standing there for several minutes.

Unease prickling her skin, Leta lowered the bottle. “Seems that way,” she said, averting her eyes to the copper liquor splashing into her mug. All the while, she could sense Ludo’s eyes on the back of her neck.

“Didn’t think Vescentians with fancy medical degrees drank much,” he grunted, stepping toward the counter and standing beside her. Glancing at him shortly, Leta saw he was smiling at her, showing yellow teeth. “But don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

Leta had never been alone with Ludo before, nor had she been with him in such close quarters. She picked up her mug to leave, but Ludo went on, “S’funny.” He laughed. “S’funny just that someone like you is on the ship at all.”

“Hilarious,” Leta agreed dryly, sipping her tea and walking to the door. But then Ludo’s words stopped her in place.

“Maybe if you fit in enough, the cap’n will change his mind about you.”

Leta lowered the mug. “He’ll — what?”

“Change his mind,” he grunted, turning around toward her, folding his arms. “About turning you in. There was just a fresh warrant out on your arrest. You know, s’quite an impressive bounty you got on your head.”

Leta simply gazed at him. Fiearius was considering giving her into the authorities? For a reward? It couldn’t have been true. Fiearius had every chance and he hadn’t even tried.

Ludo seemed to be reading her mind.

“Aiden talked him out of it about a month ago, told him to hold off,” he explained, scratching his beard thoughtfully. “But since Aid’s gone and all … “

Leta’s eyes narrowed toward a glare. Ludo was lying, of course he was lying. Uncomfortable as it was to admit, things with Fiearius lately had not been so terrible. Sometimes conversation flowed so easily, it felt like they were old friends. Or maybe that was her imagination; perhaps it was one-sided.

“Yeah? Pretty sure Cyrus and Corra would kill him,” said Leta shortly.

He barked a laugh. “Well then why d’ya think he hasn’t helped you go get your man yet?”

“He just buried his best friend. That might have something to do with it.”

“Naw.” Ludo didn’t sound distasteful — in fact, he sounded practically appreciative of the captain’s genius. “He’s just biding his time is all.”

He grabbed for the whiskey bottle from the counter. “Just thought I’d clue ya in,” he said, swinging the bottle at his side as he walked through the door. Briefly, his hand slid against her hip as he muttered, “Innocent girl like you.”

A shadow moved across the wall opposite them. Then, a man stepped into sight and Corra gasped.

Across the room, they stared at one another. He had a mess of curly dark hair and the familiar crop taken out of his left ear. Finally, his brow creased in contemplation and after a moment, he ventured, “…Corra?”

“Will!”

Corra threw herself at him and crushed him in a hug that he happily returned. And for a moment, the two of them stood there, arms wrapped around one another and Corra’s face buried in Will’s chest as reunited friends reveled in one another’s presence.

At last, Will lifted his hands from her back and placed them on her shoulders to hold her away from him and get a better look at her. “Corra, by the one true god,” he breathed in disbelief, shaking his head slowly. And then pointed out, “You grew out your hair.”

“So did you!” was her immediate response, reaching up to tug on his long curly locks affectionately. When he laughed, she added, a little sheepishly, “I like it.”

Will put a hand on top of her head and added, “But you didn’t grow at all, I see.” Corra laughed and shoved his hand off playfully, but Will’s smile faded into confusion. There was a far more important question in the air than physical appearance.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly. “How did you get in?” And then seeming to remember something, added, “Okay, no, I should know better than asking that, shouldn’t I? But really.” He eyed her sternly. “What are you doing here?”

Corra, it seemed, already had her answer planned out. “I’m here to rescue you,” she declared simply. “Well…we are.” She gestured back to Leta.

“Rescue me from what?” he asked, his tone genuinely concerned.

Clearly the answer to that seemed obvious. “From enslavement, of course,” Corra told him, cupping his cheek and watching him sadly like one might watch a child having trouble following the lesson plan.

But Will only stared. “Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it all planned out!”

“Got what planned out?” Now, he was starting to sound legitimately worried.

“We’ll take all the valuables from here,” Corra went on brightly, “I found a few on the way in, but I’m sure you know where all the best stuff is. So we’ll take all that with us and sell it.”

He still wasn’t biting. “What?”

But Corra was unphased. “And you can stay on our ship for a while,” she continued.

“Corra…”

“I’m on a ship now, by the way. I guess I didn’t tell you that.” Her words were coming out a mile a minute now. “A few years after you were bought, I got bought too. By a ship captain. It’s…not as great as it sounds, it’s kind of a pirate ship, lots of shady business and all, but he freed me! That’s the best part. I’m free! And I’ve been everywhere.” Suddenly, her eyes were filled with wonder as she reached out and grasped his hands. “Oh Will, you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen.”

“Corra.”

“But you’ll see them too! Like I said, you can stay with us for a while, and then once we’ve sold all this junk,” she gestured to Leta’s bag, “you can buy your own ship and go off on your own adventures and–”

“Corra.”

Finally, she heard her name and smiled at him cheerfully. “What?”

But the look on his face was anything but cheerful and as he spoke and her own expression fell in time with his words. “Corra that’s…that’s very thoughtful of you, but…” He frowned apologetically. “I don’t want to leave.”

That was an answer, however, she wasn’t prepared to accept.

“Why not?” She tilted her head curiously. “You can be free, Will. Free. Aren’t you tired of having to work for nothing? Of being someone else’s property?”

Will considered the question a moment and finally shrugged. “I don’t work for nothing. I work for a roof over my head. Clean clothes on my back. Food on my plate. And I don’t feel like property. Mr Lawson, he–I feel like family here. Not a possession.” He watched her a beat longer, apology and, Leta thought sadly, pity, written all over his face. “I know Goddora’s was bad, but…it’s not like that here. I’m—I’m happy.”

“But how?” Corra demanded at once, sounding almost offended by the idea. “How can you be happy stuck here? What about–didn’t you always used to say you want to travel the span? Didn’t you used to dream about going on great adventures out in the black, discovering new places and meeting new people and–” Her words caught in her throat before she finally managed to choke out, “You promised me. You promised that one day we’d get out there and see it all. And I’m doing that. So why aren’t you?”

Will just sighed and shook his head. “Corra, we were kids,” he explained. “We were just kids with silly dreams and that’s all they were. Dreams. It’s–it’s great that you’re living them. That’s amazing. But…It’s not for me. My dream is here now. This is what I want.”

By the look on Corra’s face, it was like he’d plunged a knife into her heart. Leta wasn’t the only one to notice.

Will saw his mistake almost instantly and gently grasped her shoulders as he tried to fix it. “I’m sorry, Corra, I really am,” he pleaded as she refused to or simply couldn’t meet his gaze. “Coming here was…incredibly sweet. And I can’t say how glad I am to see you again. Really. But I–I can’t leave with you. I just can’t. I’ve found a place here that’s good for me and I can’t just give that up.” He leaned down and smiled at her as he added, “Besides, can you imagine me out there in the span on my own trying to make it?” He chuckled lightly. “It’d be a disaster.”

Still refusing to look at him, Corra muttered under her breath, “You wouldn’t have to be alone…”

His smile faltered. “You always were braver than me.”

Finally, Corra looked up and met his eyes. And she held them there, silent and still for some time until at last she said, “Okay.” And that was it.

She nodded. “Okay. Alright,” she said again. “Well…we should go then. And–” She looked back at Leta who could see for the first time just how red her eyes had gotten. “I guess we should put that stuff back. I don’t want you to get in trouble…”

But Will put a hand on her shoulder. “Hang on,” he said.

“No no, really, we should go,” she insisted, “If something happens on your watch–”

“Nothing’s gonna happen,” he assured her.

“No, but what if–”

“Corra.” His grip on her shoulder tightened and she looked up at him wide-eyed, but his voice was kind as he said, “I haven’t seen you in six, seven years? I’m not just gonna let you walk in here and walk right out again.” He smiled. “I wanna hear all about your adventures on your shady spaceship. And you’ve yet to introduce me to your friend.” He frowned teasingly. “What did I always tell you about that?”

Corra finally laughed, just a little. “It’s rude?” she guessed.

“It is,” he agreed and patted his hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, no one else is gonna break in tonight. It’d be a statistical anomaly. Let’s go to the kitchen, I’ll get us all some tea.”

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