“Pardon, cap’n,” he chimed, seizing her arms before she could collide with him. “Where you off to in such a hurry?”

“Riley, I’m not going–I need to–” Corra began, her words coming out too quickly. She heaved a deep breath. It didn’t help. “Look, you’ll–will you–I’ve been thinking about what to do–I know you said–but maybe–I don’t know if–”

Finn squeezed her arms, cutting her off, and smiled. “Cap’n, you know. No matter what, I’ve got your back all the way through this.”

Corra felt a warm relief flood her chest and her face lit up. “Thank you. ‘Cause I think I might do something rash…”

———————

Exhausted, Alyx slumped on the floor and did nothing but watch with widened eyes as Kalli danced around the room, nearly knocking sideways into furniture. The little girl had already torn excitedly through Alyx’s trunks, pulling out things she found interesting: books, shoes, knickknacks …

Now draped in layers of clothing around her neck (she insisted on wearing “scarves like A’iya Leta”), Kalli spun in circles, belting a song at the top of her lungs.

“Hey, lil tornado,” Alyx called, over the noise. “Mind keeping your voice to a dull roar? Some people like to nap on this ship.”

“I don’t,” Kalli cried happily. “I hate naps!”

“I’ve noticed,” Alyx snorted, watching as Kalli already abandoned her singing and went onto her next task, which was climbing up Alyx’s bed.

Behind her, the door slid open and Alyx looked up to find Daelen hanging on the frame and looking down at her in pity.

“You doing okay in here?” he asked, smiling at Alyx. Kalli jumped on the bed and yelled, “O’rian Daelen!”

“We’re surviving,” Alyx replied. She never thought she’d become a babysitter, but she had to admit she was growing a soft spot for Kalli’s spunk. Still. “I get that Cy and Addy need some time to patch things up, or whatever they’re doing–”

“I think you know what they’re doing,” Daelen chuckled, leaning against the wall and sliding down to a sit beside her.

“–And I’m happy to help them out, of course,” Alyx went on, but not before nudging Daelen with her elbow scoldingly. Across the room, Kalli reached the top of Alyx’s loft bed, stood up as tall as she could, wielded a hairbrush she’d stolen from the bathroom as a sword and shouted, “I am queen of all the land!”

Alyx could do nothing but sigh and drop her head onto her chest. “But at some point I’m gonna need a break.”

Daelen nodded along in agreement, his fingers gently tugging on his beard as he watched the little girl battle an unseen force threatening her rulership. “You know, I brought up the curiosity of two very reserved people such as Cyrus and Adrasteia producing such an energetic child to Admiral Soliveré.” Alyx lifted her head to see Daelen frown in thought. “He told me about a supposed ‘Soliveré Curse’ in which the first born child in all of their family’s history is always a little…odd, for lack of a better word. I’m not usually one to believe such ridiculous superstitions, but looking at him versus Cyrus and looking at little Kalli here–”

“I believe it,” Alyx said at once, the mere sight of Kalli now making her eyes feel tired and her temples ache. “I totally, hundred percent believe it.”

Suddenly, the door behind them slid open again and though Alyx hoped it would hold Kalli’s parents, here to take the little monster off her hands, she was just as relieved at the new arrival.

“Cai! You’re back!” she exclaimed, clambering to her feet. “Did it work? Did they let you in?”

He looked reluctant to admit it, but in the end he nodded. “Fine. Just this once. You were right, it worked. But this is the last time, I’m serious.”

“And it’s the last time I’ll ask, I promise.” Alyx clutched her hands in front of her anxiously. Corra had managed to send the Beacon messages insisting that she was fine, they need not worry, don’t bother with a rescue mission, she’s got this under control, but Alyx had remained unconvinced. She wanted visual proof and an actual plan of attack. “So. What’s going on?”

Cai shrugged and leaned against the doorway, his eyes lingering on Kalli’s one-woman show for a moment before answering, “Not much. They seem fine. The cult is weird, but they treat them well.”

Alyx waited for more but it didn’t come. “And?” Cai lifted his brows at her. “And what now? She can’t stay there forever right? Does she need us to come bust her out yet?”

“No no, she wants to stay and get more answers about the whole–” He waved his hand in the air vaguely. “–Transmitty thing. But there’s some ritual tonight–”

“Ritual?” Daelen asked, just as skeptical as Alyx herself felt.

“Basically they want her to fire the thing up, send the message to the Origin or whatever they’re doing,” Cai explained. He acted like the explanation would soothe their worries. It did the opposite.

“What happens when they do that?” Alyx demanded.

Horribly, Cai again shrugged. “That’s what Corra wants to find out.”

Daelen finally stood up now too. “So she’s going to do it?”

“There’s more reason than that, but yeah it sounded like she was considering it.” Cai looked between the two of them. “I’m guessing you two don’t agree…”

Daelen’s face had gone dark. “Messing with ancient technology haphazardly doesn’t seem safe for any reason. Especially if no one has any idea what will come out of it. They believe it contacts the Origin? That directly opposes one of the critical declarations of the Caelum Lex. The law was written that way for a reason, is breaking it something we really want to do?”

“It’s something the Gatekeepers want to do,” Cai argued. “They think it’ll save the Span. And imagine they’re right, imagine Corra, our Corra, is the prophesized savior of all of us. Think about how much good that could do.”

“Imagine they’re wrong, think about how much bad it could do,” Daelen replied. “She’s really considering this? After–well…” He shot a furtive glance at Alyx. She didn’t need him to say the word. She didn’t need to hear the name of her lost homeworld.

“It’s a risk, sure, but think about all that’s lead to this. Her stumbling across the Transmission, Cy and Addy stumbling across the Transmitter, this whole cult who’ve been waiting for her, her specifically, to show up and put all the pieces together? How could it not mean something?”

“It’s coincidence,” Daelen shot back, logical as ever. “And imposed patterns change nothing. It’s dangerous and the whims of some religious fanatics do not make me feel any better about what’s going to occur when she turns on some ancient machinery.”

“Probably nothing,” Alyx interjected, earning both of their stares. “Come on, let’s be realistic here. It’s ancient. It probably doesn’t do anything. It probably doesn’t even work.”

Cai nodded, as though the argument helped his case. “Where’s the harm in that then?”

Alyx rolled her eyes. “The harm in that is what happens when the crazies who’ve been keeping her captive, the crazies who very nearly killed two of our friends, realize she isn’t their holy prophet there to save them after all.” Both Cai and Daelen grew very quiet for a long moment. The only noise in the room was Kalli’s sound effects from the bed battle.

Until Cai asked, “Okay. So what do we do?”

“We get her and Finn out of there before the whole thing goes to hell,” Alyx answered without skipping a beat.

“How?”

Alyx frowned and found herself looking around the room as she worked it out in her head. Her eyes rested on the little girl, wrapped in scarves and play acting a dramatic scene with all of her heart and energy poured into it. Alyx watched as she stabbed the air with the hairbrush, killing the monster she battled, and raising her hands to the sky for her beloved subjects to cheer for her victory.

Alyx started to smile. “I have an idea.”

“Fine, I suppose.” He settled next to her. “Your new friends seemed to believe us when we promised we won’t be leaving to tell the Span about the Transmitter without you so they left us alone. Cy and Addy are a little shaken up still from the whole experience. They’ve kind of been keeping to themselves and we’ve been taking turns watching Kalli still. Alyx is learning a valuable lesson in patience.”

He shot a cautious glance at the empty room around them before adding, “Not gonna lie though, we’d like our captains back. And safe. And not in the clutches of murderous psychos.”

“They’re not that bad,” Corra insisted. “I’ve been treated a lot worse by people considered a lot less psycho, trust me.” Cai just grimaced in solemn understanding. “I’m determined to stick this through.”

“For how long?”

“If everything goes as I think it should, not much longer.” Corra leaned in closer to him to speak more quietly. “There’s this ritual they need me to do that’ll put me near the Transmitter so I can get the answers I need and maybe some insight into–”

“Hang on,” he interrupted, looking skeptical. “Ritual?”

Which was the same response she’d had when she first heard about it. “It’s not as sketchy as it sounds. It’s just them reading some stuff while I fire up the device.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You’re sure?”

“Well.” She sighed through her teeth. “Not entirely.” She pointed at the door Finn had gone through. “But if it’s not, he has a gun. Two guns.”

Cai frowned at her. “So what’s the plan?”

As true as it was, Corra didn’t think ‘not sure’ was the answer he was looking for. She’d thought it through as much as she could and discussed possibilities with Finn, but there was only so much preparedness she could manage. As much information as she’d tried to garner from the Gatekeepers, she still knew next to nothing about what was going to happen when they started the process. This was going to be a ‘wing it’ situation no matter what. Which was also not an answer Cai probably wanted.

So instead, she said, “I have some ideas,” which didn’t come out nearly as confidently as she’d expected it to.

“Corra–”

“It’ll be fine! I’m adaptable!”

“Corra.” He fixed her with a serious stare.

“Cai, it’s fine. I’m just going to get close to it and steal it,” she explained hurriedly. “And if I don’t have an opportunity, I’ll throw a wrench in their ritual to create a distraction. And if it’s something I can’t just nab and run out with, I’ll know where it is and I can go back for it later. And in all situations, me and Riley run back to the ship and we get the hell out of here. I got this.”

But as much as she’d anticipated him either accepting or arguing that answer, the look he gave her indicated neither. It was more confused. He tilted his head at her, his eyes narrowed curiously. “So. You’re not going to do the ritual no matter what?”

The question surprised her. “I–I’d considered it,” she admitted. After all, what she wanted was answers. What did the Transmitter do? What did the Transmission say? Why was it so important? What better way to answer all those questions than to actually test it? The ritual, if she went through with it, would give her all the answers she needed.

But “Riley doesn’t think it’s a good idea. And he’s not wrong. We have no idea what happens when that thing is activated and these crazy people thinking it’s great doesn’t really do it much credit.” She shrugged. “It could be dangerous.”

“It could be,” Cai admitted in that neutral kind of tone his years as an ally had perfected. The one that, even though she recognized it instantly, Corra couldn’t help but fall for every time. She automatically kept talking.

“What if it does something terrible? Their book says it’ll bring salvation, but what does that mean? Is that good?”

“Salvation sounds like a good thing,” was his calm response.

“But it’s just some book by some random person,” Corra argued. “Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“Nope.”

“But it was so accurate.” She clenched her fists and tucked them under her chin. “I mean. The whole thing about me showing up with the Transmission. It’s so…coincidental. Really, what’s the likelihood of an ally–well, Free, but still–showing up here with the Transmission?” Before he could even reply, and why did he need to when she was only arguing with herself, she answered, “It’s not that unlikely. Someone who had the Transmission is likely to show up somewhere the Transmitter is rumored to be. And the fact that I just happen to have a cropped ear, I mean–” She frowned. “It’s still pretty coincidental.” And then shook her head. “But I’m not an ally anymore. I don’t even fit their prophecy, not really.”

As Corra stewed over the situation, Cai watched her with interest. She had taken to mumbling reasoning to herself when he said, “It’s interesting their prophecy includes an ally at all.”

She met his eyes and stared straight through them. “It is, isn’t it?”

“You don’t see slavery mentioned anywhere in any of the major theologies,” Cai remarked thoughtfully. “It’s sort of just brushed over.”

“But this one, this whole Gatekeeper thing, it really kind of embraces it. The whole thing, it’s based in modernity, y’know? It’s not an ancient god watching over us, it’s real people in the real Span taking real action.” She flicked her gaze up to find him watching her intently. A little too intently, making her explain hurriedly, “I’m not thinking of converting or anything. I just–well, they wrote that an ally would save the Span. Whether they’re nuts or not, it’s a nice sentiment.”

“But an unlikely one to be true,” Cai pointed out.

“Is it that unlikely?” Corra couldn’t help but ask. “What if they’re right? What if–imagine I do it. The ritual. I switch on the Transmitter and something — god knows what, but something incredible happens. Imagine an ally, even an ex-ally, saving the Span.”

Cai was nodding slowly. “It would certainly be something to celebrate.”

Corra had been rather decided on the best course of action when she’d stepped into this conversation. She knew her best bet was stealing the Transmitter and having people smarter than her research it and figure out what to do with it from there. Now? Now, she was having serious doubts.

“You think I should do their ritual then,” she said simply, catching Cai’s gaze.

He smiled his goofy smile and said the most useless thing he could. “I think you should do what you feel is right.” When Corra groaned, he chuckled apologetically and tried again. “Alright, weigh it out. You’re eventually going to switch it on anyway, right?”

“Sure, but under controlled conditions, after I’ve had Cy or Addy look at it.”

“Okay so on the one hand.” He held out his palm. “You’ve got stealing the thing, which could be risky. Studying it for a while, maybe getting some answers. Testing it in relative safety given what’s been learned. Maybe learning nothing. On the other hand.” He raised his other palm. “Comply with your captors. Find out what the Transmitter does tonight. Face some risks if it does something unpleasant. But possibility for glory, reknown and Span-wide change if it does the opposite.” Cai shrugged. “Tough choice, huh?”

Corra knew Cai well enough to know he wasn’t being sarcastic or ironic in his question, but regardless of his intention, it sparked something within her.

“Yeah. Tough,” she mumbled, staring intently at her fingertips. What was a little risk anyway? As soon as the question arose in her head, an image of Archeti, encased in green light and crumbling beneath it flashed in front of her eyes. Okay, a little risk could lead to a massive disaster. But hadn’t her riskiness also lead hundreds of enslaved people to freedom?

“I should probably head back to the Beacon before someone thinks I’ve been killed and comes after me,” Cai said, dragging her out of her thoughts. “You’ll be okay, right?”

Corra waved off his concern. “Get back to the others, I’ll be fine.”

A smile lit Cai’s face, full of pride. “Of course, I’d expect nothing less of our capable captain.”

Corra tried to stop herself from blushing which probably only made it worse, but she quickly stood up and brushed off her embarrassment (one would think she’d be used to Cai’s unabashed compliments by now). “Well I expect my capable crew to be ready when I run into the bridge desperate to get the hell out of here.”

“Always and forever, captain,” Cai chimed heading for the door and disappearing out of it. Corra only stood in the chapel watching it for a moment before spinning on her heel and marching towards the back of the room where she promptly ran directly into Finn.

“We’re not acting like normal people,” Leta growled. “We’re completely dysfunctional around one another.”

“Look, if your lil’ shark buddy’s jealous, just tell him not to be. There’s nothin’ here anymore.” He waved his hand between the two of them.

Leta growled under her breath, “Isn’t there?” with her face full of challenge, which rooted Fiearius in place.

“I heard the recording of your interview,” she went on fiercely.

Fiearius’ mouth fell open. At last, he grunted, “So this is about the interview.”

“You think you’re some kind of martyr, don’t you?” she snapped.

“Excuse me?” He grasped for words. “I’m not–I never said that I–gods, what the fuck? I’m not a martyr.”

“But you’re going to be,” she said in a sing-song voice, angrily mocking him. “Because it’s all you’ve got, remember? Everything leads to it.”

Fiearius could hardly even work up the stamina to respond to her. “I don’t think you understand,” he tried anyway. “I never meant it’s some work of destiny or whatever, but I’m doing what has to be done, regardless of–”

“If you’re planning to die in this war, I want no part of it.”

Fiearius was dumbstruck into silence. Just that morning, the two of them had been laughing about something Gates had said in the war council meeting over breakfast. Getting along great. Better than they ever had before, really. He’d been really starting to enjoy Leta’s friendship these days. And now all of a sudden, she wanted nothing to do with him?

Well. Fine.

“Alright,” he said, short and terse. “Whatever. You want space?” He did laugh this time, harsh and humorless, then threw his hands toward the door. “Take some space. Take all the space you need. I don’t care.”

“Great.”

“In fact, the further the better.”

Leta’s eyes narrowed on him, but she didn’t respond. She just sucked in a breath and began to push past him headed straight for the door, but she didn’t make it far. Suddenly, a massive boom echoed through the room and the entire ground beneath their feet shook so violently that Leta stumbled backwards, losing her footing and falling towards Fiearius who caught her in his arms.

For a long moment, she leaned back on him in silence as they both looked up at the ceiling, expecting a follow-up. When none came, Leta collected herself.

“Don’t touch me,” she said quietly, pushing out of his hands.

Fiearius rolled his eyes. “Oh, sorry. Next time I’ll just let you fall on your ass.”

No sooner had she righted herself, though, another boom sounded and the station shook again. This time, they were ready for it, though Leta still braced her hand on Fiearius’ arm. “Are we under attack?” she breathed quietly.

Another short succession of booms followed.

“Let’s go find out,” Fiearius muttered, already expecting the worst, as he led the two of them out into the hall.

———-

The war room was crowded, soldiers and leaders all talking loudly at once, a sea of confusion. Though there had been no more thunderous trembles on the run over here, screens were still flashing and warning lights circling as Fiearius pressed into the room. He couldn’t make sense of what was happening, and when he glanced sideways at Leta, he could see in her face that she understood as well as he did.

They pressed through the crowd toward the center table, and just when Fiearius was about to yell to get some answers, Admiral Gates beat him to it.

“Quiet!” barked the older man at the head of the table. The room went suddenly, coldly silent. Gates’ paused, his jaw tightened, his face drawn in shadows. “The Society has located the CORS.”

A shocked gasp went around the room. Bursts of “What?!” and “How?!” could be heard briefly before focus returned to Gates. “We picked up their stealth scouts nearby. Our artillery core engaged. The shudders you felt were the scouts’ limited retaliation before they were neutralized.”

“So they’re gone? We’re safe?” Fiearius heard someone breathe beside him.

“Unfortunately, we have confirmed that they were able to broadcast our location to the Ellegian stronghold before we managed to eliminate them.”

Panic started to stir around them. The CORS had managed to stay hidden throughout the entire war, despite the Society’s efforts to find it. If they’d finally succeeded, if they’d managed?

This whole station was now looking straight in the eyes of its endgame.

“We should anticipate Ellegy launching an attack within hours,” Gates went on. “They will come swiftly and they will come hard. We need to be ready to defend the station with everything we’ve got. Recall every ship in range. Recall those outside range too. We’ll need all the firepower we can get.”

“How long do we have?” someone in the room shouted out.

“It’ll take them at least half a day to reach us,” Arsen answered, standing firm beside Gates.

“We should evacuate all non-combat, non-essential personnel,” Gates suggested.

“In as few ships as possible,” Arsen added. “We need to maintain a supply of lifeboats here in case things turn south.”

“All captains should return to their troops immediately and prepare them for battle. Everyone else, start the evacuation.” Fiearius felt Gates’ eyes upon him. “Admiral, you and I can discuss fleet formations.”

Fiearius heaved a deep breath and nodded, stepping forward as the crowd started to shift, but Leta’s voice stopped him. “Wait,” she said. He looked down to find her staring straight ahead, her eyes wide. “Wait,” she said again, louder this time. “Wait!”

The crowd stopped moving and all eyes turned towards her. Fiearius saw her swallow a lump in her throat before she sputtered out, “We should abandon the station.”

Predictably, it was Arsen who first spoke up. “What?!” He scoffed indignantly. “To your posts!”

But Leta wasn’t finished. “No, listen!” she snapped. “You’re certain they’ll attack from Ellegy? And soon?”

Gates was watching her curiously as Arsen, impatient as ever, growled, “Certain as we could be. They’ll know we detected their scouts. If they’re to have a chance, they have to mount a large attack quickly before we can recall the entire fleet and Ellegy’s the closest planet to do so from. Which is exactly why we don’t have time to waste.”

Fiearius cast the man a glare, unsurprised to find Gates was always eying him with distaste. Leta didn’t seem to mind either way. “We’ve been looking for a way into Ellegy for months. Years, even. But it’s too heavily defended. The Ellegian fleet never leaves port.”

Slowly, the realization of what she was getting at dawned on Fiearius. “Except for now,” he muttered.

She pointed at him and smiled. “Exactly. If they send the Ellegian fleet to destroy the CORS, it’ll leave Ellegy, for the first time, less defended. We’ve been waiting for this chance. We could launch our attack while they launch theirs. They’d never expect it.”

“Of course they wouldn’t,” Arsen spat. “Because leaving the CORS undefended is insane. This station is far too valuable to sacrifice.”

“More valuable than our only opportunity to assault the Society’s secondary holding?” Leta argued. She turned to the people around her. “I know, losing the CORS would be devastating, but even if we stayed, there’s a high chance we could lose it.”

“And if we attack Ellegy, we could lose both the CORS and our entire fleet,” was Arsen’s quick response.

Leta grit her teeth and Fiearius saw her fists clench at her side. “This could be our only shot at Ellegy. We’re ready. We’ve prepared for this. We just need to take it.”

Fiearius was still watching her in interest when Gates caught his eye, his brow raised in curiosity. It was a look Fiearius knew well. He shrugged in response. “It’s your station.”

Gates released a small puff of breath from his nose. At his side, Arsen was incredulous. “Sir, you can’t seriously be considering this.”

Fiearius could tell Leta was ready to launch into another stream of justifications any minute. She was, as always, willing to fight this to the death if need be. But she didn’t have to. Gates nodded just once.

“Captains, change of plans. Restock as much artillery as you can carry and prepare to depart the CORS immediately. We’re headed to Ellegy.”

Liam was nodding. “Exymeron’s failing economy post Division War.”

“And they did a great job. But their entire function is reactionary. When things are good? Thriving? They’re worthless. So they need to make problems to solve in order to keep their power. Make people believe that without the Society, things would descend into chaos. And who’s better at that than a whole bunch of–”

“Scared teenagers,” Liam finished for him, his tone heavily thoughtful. “Interesting.”

Fiearius sat back in the chair and shrugged. “Just my theory anyway.”

“Pretty good one, I think,” Liam admitted. “So. What’s it like now that you’re facing all this from the other side?”

Fiearius shuffled in his seat and propped his head in his hand. “How do you mean?”

“Well, there aren’t a lot of defectors–” Fiearius coughed. “–eh, alive anyway. At least none that would speak out against them publicly. So your views on the Society are rather unique. I was just wondering what it feels like to be fighting something that was, at one point, in your own words, a refuge.”

Fiearius went quiet again as he considered the question. “I don’t know,” he admitted at last. “It doesn’t really feel like an ‘us vs. them’ sort of thing. I’m totally committed to dismantling the Society as a whole, but the people in it? It’s–it’s difficult sometimes. Fighting them. Because I know them. I know what it’s like to be them. Hell, if a couple things had gone a little differently, I could have still been one of them.”

“What things are those?” Liam wanted to know.

But Fiearius’ silence this time was different than before. More intense, deeper. It was no surprise when his answer was, “I’d rather not dwell on that if it’s alright by you.”

“Ah, right, sure no problem. But I have to wonder, defining yourself as just narrowly on the other side of this war, does that mean you consider yourself still connected to the Society?”

Fiearius lifted a brow. “No, not at all.” When Liam just watched him patiently, he went on, “But I have a connection to the Exymerian people. And the Ellegians, the Ascendians, the Vescentians and anyone else who’s lived under Society rule.”

“And you want to–free these people? The way you were freed?”

Fiearius barked a laugh. “Hopefully not the way I was freed, no. But do I want them to live in a place where their choices do matter, where they don’t have to be afraid of their own neighbors and kids aren’t being offered assassination training as their only way out of a bad situation? Fuck yeah, I do.”

“So to you, this whole war is kind of personal.”

“It’s entirely personal,” Fiearius answered without hesitation. “If by the end of this, I’ve put the Span any closer to not containing any more shit like me, then it will have all been worth it.”

Liam sounded a touch confused when he muttered, “An…interesting way to phrase a noble prospect. Would the translation to ‘better place for my kids to grow up in’ be correct?”

Fiearius snorted. “No kids in my short lil future, but sure, whichever cliche floats your boat.”

“Short future?” Liam asked. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Fiearius repeated incredulously. “I dunno how long you’ve been reporting on this particular war, mate, but if you think I’m gonna come out the other end of it, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Seems a little morbid…”

“It’s not morbid, it’s realistic.” Fiearius couldn’t have sounded more casual about the idea of his own death. “Carthis will handle a lot of crazy shit, don’t get me wrong, but they have self-preservation in mind at all times, as they should. These people, the soldiers? Fighting for someone else’s freedom? It’s not in ‘em. They have families and lives to get back to and more power to ‘em for it.”

“But me?” he went on. “This is what I’ve got. Everything in my life leads to this. So while they’re busy calculating losses, I’ll take the risks. They’re how we’ve gotten to where we are in this war at all. And it’s a damn miracle the odds have thus far tilted in my favor. But I’m not fool enough to think that’ll last forever.”

Liam’s pen tapped gently on the edge of the table. “And you’re alright with that? The dangerous missions, the high risks, inevitability of failure?”

He shrugged.  “We all die eventually.”

———————————

The recording ended abruptly with a scratch of static and Leta’s finger on the dial. She could not listen any longer. Silence unfolded in the room, and kept unfolding for seconds longer, and she felt Liam watching her.

“There’s…a bit more actually,” he ventured carefully. “I asked him about the Baltimore and we talked about life on the Dionysian and–” Leta was shaking her head silently. “Hey.” His hand touched her knee. “You okay over there?”

No, not at all, she thought. Something about the way Fiearius spoke about the war, Carthis, his inevitable death…It hit her hard in the gut. Talking of having nothing else and his whole life leading here, gods, he was starting to sound like Dez. Fear leaked into her heart, and she felt suddenly ice cold.

Leta nodded. “I’m fine,” she heard herself say, but she was already on her way toward the door. “I just — there’s something I need to do. I’ll be right back.”

————————

He would never admit it aloud, but Fiearius found that he was, privately, starting to enjoy the comfort of his quarters on the CORS. The extravagance of the lounge, dining room, and master bathroom were obnoxious, but he had to admit the space was a nice reprieve. At least it was quiet. In this moment, Fiearius sat on the couch, balancing a plate of eggs and potatoes on his knee. He ate with one hand while his other hand held a tablet, which blared the headline: Society Forces Flee Ascendian Ground.

A pounding on the door broke him out of his thoughts. Frowning, he slid the plate to the coffee table and hit the switch to slide open the door, surprised to see Leta standing on the other side.

“Leta. To what do I owe this — ”

“We need to talk.”

A storm clouded her face, and her eyes were shifting over him uneasily.

“Okay,” he said blankly, stepping sideways and closing the door behind him. Leta slid past him and immediately began to pace over the shining wood floor, wringing her hands together while pointedly avoiding his gaze.

“What is it?” He was baffled. “You alright?”

“No. Not really.”

He waited, but when she did not elaborate, he asked, “You need a drink or somethin’?” He started to cross toward the fully stocked liquor bar. For some reason, this made her face darken.

“Definitely not.” She shot a nasty look toward the decanter of bourbon in his hand.

“Well, that’s unlike you,” he commented, almost grinning. “What is it we need to talk about then?”

“You.” She suddenly halted. “Me. Us. Look, I think I need some distance.”

Fiearius stared at her. Then he lowered the decanter back onto the bar. “Distance.”

“Yes. Distance. We’ve been seeing a lot of each other lately and I think it’s been too much for both of us.”

“Hang on.” He held up a hand. He felt like laughing. “I’m confused. What the hell did I do?”

“Nothing. I’ve just — decided it’s time we move on with our personal lives, and right now I’m letting you know I need space.”

“You need some space,” he repeated slowly. “So you came here. To my quarters. To tell me you need some space.”

“Yes. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She veered back toward the door and while some part of him thought it’d be easier to just let her walk out, he couldn’t help himself.

“No, hang on, I won’t excuse you.” He held up his palms, stepping into her path. “What the fuck is going on? Is this about the interview? I was perfectly nice to the guy.”

“You were fine,” Leta agreed, a hiss of a breath.

“I was helpful even.”

“You were.”

“You told me to do it. So why are you pissed at me? I don’t get it. I did everything you asked and now you’re punishing me for it?”

“I’m not punishing you, I’m trying to be realistic. I’m with Liam, you have Quin, and all this time together on the station isn’t good for anyone.”

“Not good for anyone? Yeah, sure, people getting along and acting like normal people is terrible,” he groaned.