A/N: Okay, so life got so complicated and stressful for a month that I apparently forgot to post this chapter over here instead of just Ao3. So, two chapters coming at you tonight! This concludes the interlude and Part Two begins with the next chapter. Thanks for being patient with me. Two long trips and a funeral are over and school is starting again soon, so perhaps life will normalize again.


Her twin's arms were warm and strong and it was as if, for the first time in so long, she was home for a brief respite. A short holiday where all that mattered was that the deep empty well inside was not quite so empty anymore. In his arms was shelter, peace, and love.

Words escaped her. Millions of words in languages old and new, yet none could express what filled her heart. So she cried. Cried as if Mayella wasn't there. As if they were alone someplace secluded and safe rather than a natural shelter of branches and leaves on an open beach. Her skin touched his and a familiar energy passed between them. His presence nestled comfortably in her mind where it had always lived. He was here, alive and unharmed and the relief was like a tidal wave after a quake. It overtook her and swept her away, and if it weren't for his arms, she might have lost her balance.

She cupped his cheek in her hand and studied his face. When last she'd seen him physically in front of her they'd both been purple. Young adults on the cusp of growing into their true forms. Still so much to learn about the Universe—still so naive. Full of hopes and dreams the way young people often were. The lines on his face were so similar to hers. A thicker jaw line, a slightly wider nose. Eyes a little more narrow and lashes not so long. Beautiful and precious was the face of her first friend. The boy who'd taught her to summon life from the building blocks of it. The boy she'd taught to climb and who had outpaced her over time. When everyone expected her to lead, he was the only person she followed.

"I've missed you," she whispered. The questions finally formed, but she held them back. Built an emotional dam around them and chose to live in this single moment as if there would be no more. Because there might not be and he was here now, smelling of wood and spice, and carrying within him the shared memories of better days. A childhood long gone.

He pulled back and ran his fingers through her hair. "I like this."

"You've changed, too." She brushed his close cropped red hair with her fingers. His eyes were a little younger than those that stared back at her from the mirror each day. Eyes that had seen so much, but had been spared many of the horrors hers had witnessed.

When had he changed? Had it happened when she came back from the future? Had the bond they shared forced him to take on his adult form as well? They knew so little about how the naturally born Lambent Kith grew and even less about the bonds between siblings. The loss of her powers had done nothing to remove her bond with Sol. She felt him and realized that she'd always felt him. Distant, but there.

"You came to me when I was dying. You saved me."

"You called out to me, though I don't think you remember. I could feel myself losing you, and I could not let that happen. Not a moment before it has to."

A weight wrapped itself around her heart. Tugged to towards her feet. She would never know her life without Sol in it, but he would know a practical eternity without her. Over time, she would become a memory. A ghost. A voice on the wind. The Nebula had guaranteed that.

Her breath caught. The Nebula.

"What are you doing here?" she asked when she found her voice. "If the Nebula finds out—"

"They won't. The entire system is shielding his presence here." Mayella said in their native language. Strange how she'd greeted her brother in Common as if even the language centers of her brain had accepted this was her life now. And how he had answered her in Common as well. "It was important we bring him to you. We all understand that he is the only one of you will trust. With good reason."

We all?

The honey and laughter had gone from her voice. Casual amusement replaced with something akin to reverence. She stepped forward and Trance held her ground, gaze shifting between both of them now, wary of the fourth, invisible presence—something unspoken and life changing. Sol wouldn't risk it otherwise. He was smarter than that.

"I don't understand." That was a lie. There were the words he'd spoken to her before he left her in her coma and a dream that sent her into a panic attack; a nagging sense that Sol was involved in something dangerous. Then there as the Tagris system… The world closed in around her and a headache throbbed behind her eyes.

She needed him to say it, to voice what her heart and mind had puzzled out.

"Sol," she pressed, "What have you done?"

Mayella took offense to her words. Either the tone or the implication that he'd done something wrong. She stepped forward with an indignant frown marring her pretty face but stopped when Trance raised a hand, whatever she'd been prepared to say dying on her lips. The High Priestess bowed and cast her eyes to the sand as if she'd been given an order by a superior.

More pieces fell into place. No, not just a superior, a queen.

Something hot flared inside and burned bright. She grabbed at it. "He will speak for himself. I think he owes me that much."

Sol's knowing gaze bored into hers. "You know already," it said though he remained silent, "You have known since your coma. Since your dream. Since Dylan first told you of the Tagris system. But you buried it like you always do. Hid from the truth so you wouldn't have to face it and your worries wouldn't consume you. There was never going to be another outcome—I was always going to fight."

"Say it, please."

His brows pinched. They'd always been so close. Two sides of the same coin. Unified and inseparable despite differing worldviews. Sol the warrior leader. Trance the healer queen. Both out to right the wrongs of the Universe in their own way. It was always this way when their difference led them down different paths. Painful, like ripping a physical seam.

His voice was low, tone calm, though his eyes shook. "A large number of our people believe that you are still their rightful ruler and we are opposing the Nebula."

Unbidden, the image of the first world in the Tagris system came to mind, wrapped in superheated red ribbons where tectonic plates met. There one moment, alive and beautiful, and disintegrated the next. She'd not known the planet's avatar personally, but she knew of him. His name had been Argal and he'd had a beautiful singing voice. Once, his sun had loved to listen to him sing. Now she'd murdered him and he would never sing again.

"You started a war," she whispered, "You have proclaimed me the rightful ruler and started a war."

Sol didn't deny it.

Silence. Tension. And then Harper's voice accompanied by a thump in the sand and the sharp stench of alcohol on the breeze. "Holy shit!"


"Captain, we're exiting Slipstream," Andromeda announced. Round four of evacuations? Round five? More? Dylan sighed. Should have kept track. Shouldn't have let that sigh out, either. The crew could see and hear that their stalwart leaders' strength had begun to flag. They'd follow his lead. Strong captain, strong crew; Commonwealth Leadership 101.

But he was only Human—or Paradine—and he needed more than ten hours of sleep in three days. He'd kept track of that well enough. They all needed the rest but it had to wait.

"Contact the others who've already arrived and get in touch with our ground crew. Start figuring out where everyone needs to be," he ordered.

Outside the viewport was a familiar scene. The fiery sun bore down on yet another planet. It had been an idyllic green and blue marble two months ago. It was brown now and angry storms covered most of the northern hemisphere, winds devastating abandoned cities and townships at last report. In the end, those cities would burn down to their elements. Poetic, almost. The embodiment of 'nothing ever dies'. Small comfort to those who'd called it home.

"Aye, Captian," Andromeda spoke for the crew who remained silent but a chorus of beeps sounded off as his crew got to work. He gave Command a slow once-over, turning in place, careful to keep chin up and shoulders back. Dark circles, slumped postures, a few crew members surreptitiously leaned against their consoles to remain upright. They needed a pep talk. Too bad he didn't have one in him.

He took in the sun once more. In the viewport, she looked small and less frightening. There was one less planet less today than there'd been yesterday when they'd left to deliver their precious cargo to one of the refugee colonies.

He had to say something. Anything.

"You are all doing great. I know this has been a grind and there is a lot more work to do…" Outside, a slip portal opened and four ships exited, then swarmed around the Andromeda. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched them take up formation on a nearby monitor. He heard a young Lieutenant make contact in hushed tones. "I am proud of all of you. Your work here is making a difference. You're saving lives."

Nods all around. The men and women in Command pulled themselves up a little straighter. Wasn't much but he was asking a lot of them.

He missed Harper's loud complaints and poorly timed jokes. Trance's silent encouragements. Beka's strong, no nonsense presence beside him. They were doing better where they were. The footage that had come in from Rindra last night had done more to boost morale than his meager speeches. Trance stole the spotlight with her steady presence on camera and her careful interview answers speaking to the hope the Commonwealth brought the Known Worlds. Harper's good humor and easy smiles—the jokes he cracked with the reporters—had brightened Command during the night shift. And the rumor mill buzzed around footage of Beka and Charlemagne cutting up the dance floor at the reception. There was a story there, and he was eager to crack open a beer over the Maru's beaten up table so Beka could tell it.

His senior officers, from far away, had given the rest of the crew a well-timed reminder of what they were all fighting for.

"Sir, incoming message from Commander Rhade," a Nietzschean lieutenant reported.

"Put it through."

Rhade's image appeared on the screen. He stood in a temporary enclosure with fabric sides that rippled violently. The wind roared and made it difficult to understand him at first. "We have… ready to go. It's more orderly here, less fighting. Everyone… assigned their ships, just waiting. Wind conditions are going to slow drop pods and landings down."

The roar of the wind grew louder. Off to the side men and women shouted, surprised. At the same time, the tent behind Rhade lifted. Behind the fabric, a wall of dust and small debris blew past as two large men with goggles over their eyes and stakes in their hands rushed over to tack the canvas down again.

"Thanks for keeping us updated. We are waiting on a few more ships and then will coordinate. ETA one hour."

"Got it, we'll try to hold down the fort here."

Dylan's lips twitched at the joke. "Stay safe. See you soon."

The comm closed just in time for another slipstream portal to open, bringing about a dozen ships to the sector. Unexpected, though. That portal was on the wrong side of the sector and it was supposed to be at least ten minutes before the next group arrived. This was a no-fly zone and the message was broadcast around every known slipstream portal that lead here. He really didn't want a fight today.

"Andromeda, report. Who do those ships belong to?" They were too far away for him to make out details on the view port, but their outline was vaguely familiar.

"Dylan, those are Sabra-Jaguar ships," Rommie said. He turned and she marched onto Command with her eyes narrowed. She raised an eyebrow, "They are hailing us specifically."

"On screen." The energy around the room changed. Curiosity and interest pushed away the heavy pall of exhaustion. Made the air lighter. His crew stood taller. Put on their polished faces as the face of a young Nietzschean captain with black hair and sharp cheeks very like Charlemagne's. Cousins, perhaps?

"This is Captain Dylan Hunt of the Andromeda Ascendant. You are currently in a highly unstable no fly zone. Can we be of any assistance?" Level tone. No hint of curiosity. No cracks in his facade for this Jaguar to exploit.

"Captain Francoise de Lafayette. We are here to assist under the direct orders of Archduke Bolivar and at the direction of the Matriarch."

Beka had a story to tell, indeed.


"Again with the weapons," Mayella said and Trance looked away from Sol to see Harper at the entrance of the copse banging a fist into his hip where his gauss gun should have been. The battle between fight or flight played across his entire body. His knuckles were white, jaw set with teeth clenched tight, and his shoulders quivered with tension. The sand by his feet soaked up a pungent electric blue liquid. Citrus, cut into the shape of flowers, lay on top beside two large stem glasses. Mayella stepped forward again. "It wouldn't do any good anyway."

"It would stop you long enough for us to get away. I'm pretty good, I could have shot both of you before you had time to react," he said and stood his ground, bouncing on his feet from the electricity in his veins.

"That's what she said." Mayella nodded in Trance's direction, a bit of amusement creeping back into her voice, but she didn't step forward again and folded into herself, more on guard with Harper that she'd been with Trance. Mayella's eyes darted between Harper and Sol, giving the impression of a cornered mother wolf guarding her cubs.

Harper, in a show of agility, crouched down and pulled a kitchen knife from his boot before springing up again with it held before him. Trance almost laughed. Her head was a violent storm of emotions she could hardly untangle from one another: anger, fear, relief, love, and so much more. She could hardly think. Yet, here was Harper. Wonderful, protective, and predictable Harper. How had she not noticed he was packing the cutlery all evening?

A smile broke through the tears. Sol's eyes narrowed in confusion. Never once had one of her lovers threatened to shoot or stab him and no doubt he wondered why it brought a smile to her face. She squeezed his arm then stepped around him, willing the High Priestess to stay put so she could de-escalate before Harper did something stupid.

"I don't think the chef knife is going to do any good, Seamus. You should probably drop it before you accidentally hurt one of us." She reached out her hands to him. He glanced at the knife, then her face, and let the knife fall beside the cups in the sand. Its steel blade gleamed in the moonlight. "They don't mean me any harm, I promise."

His fingers curled around hers and he pressed his thumbs into the tops of her hands. She held on with a vice-like grip. It was as if his touch had given her access to a new well of strength. This man who'd drawn a kitchen knife to defend her from gods. His power was hers to share.

But Harper was as conflicted too. All of it was on the surface for her to read. His desire to take her in his arms because she was safe and he was glad. Guilt that he'd left her alone in the first place. Fear that made him want to take her and make their escape. But above it all, the remarkable strength of will that held him in place under this canopy of colorful leaves and twinkling lights, so close to those he perceived as threats. She met his eyes, tried to reassure him that they were safe.

"I would like you to meet someone," she said carefully, and with effort, extracted one hand. She pulled him with her until he stood face to face with Sol. Her brother had remained in place and had not turned around. He shifted his eyes from Mayella to her, and a slightly outstretched hand indicated he'd ordered the High Priestess to stay in place. Like when they were younger, Sol had known what she wanted without a single word. Harper's arm went stiff beside her as he planted himself firmly in place as if his feet had grown roots. His mouth fell open.

"Harper, this is my brother, Sol," she said. "He will not hurt me or let anyone else do so."

"So, decided this was a great time for a family reunion?" Harper asked through nervous laughter, filling the awkward silence with the sound of his voice.

Trance didn't miss the accusation in his tone. Sol didn't either. His face twitched, but he didn't reply. This wasn't how she'd imagined introducing Harper to Sol. Now they sized each other up.

"Sol was just telling me how he's started a war in my name," she said, breaking in.

"We should not speak of this in front of—" Mayella started, but Trance cut her off.

"Organics? I will not keep secrets from Harper."

"It's not a war," Sol said in Common. "It is a Resistance."

Trance squeezed Harper's hand before she spoke. The music of the party seemed so far away now. Their little copse was almost claustrophobic, but they couldn't take this conversation out into the open. He squeezed back.

"Isn't that the same thing?" she asked, willing strength into her voice. "A resistance is just a war fought underground. People die either way."


The air in the conference room was thick. The table emptier than usual. Three spots left open with three fewer voices to help him come up with solutions and they needed solutions because even with the Sabra-Jaguar pride's help, the fleet's supplies had almost run dry. They needed to mobilize faster to get sick, injured and frightened people to the refugee colonies so that they could get care from facilities equipped to care for them. A warship wasn't a medical frigate no matter how much they tried to make it one. But the laws of physics would not bend to his will. Not today.

"I need ideas," Dylan said. Doyle looked up from her hands and shook her head. Rommie, standing at the front of the room, as she often did, looked him in the eyes, but offered no suggestions.

"We could figure out how to tesseract. That's the only thing that is going to help us in this situation," Rhade replied. Why were Nietzscheans always so pessimistic? Why not a little optimism of once? A smidgen of hope. The Commonwealth came back to life bit by bit, planet by planet when everyone said it couldn't be done. If the Commonwealth could rise from the ashes like a phoenix, this small fleet sure as hell could evacuate an entire system before its sun ate all its planets.

"Any answers that don't involve dangerous technology that hasn't been invented yet?" Wasn't even going to deem Rhade's reply worth a response.

Silence. Why had he even called this meeting?

When no one said anything he shook his head, "Fine, thanks for the reports, let's get back to work."

Wasn't his most inspirational moment. The call to action didn't quite have that 'fight to the bitter end' ring to it. Fatigue had settled over him like a cloak. Had sunk deep into his bones and all he wanted right now was a nap. Or a vacation. Even better, a vacation with ample time for napping. But the Universe was in upheaval as if it had decided that his three-hundred-year nap had been ample enough time to rest.

He rubbed his eyes as he exited the conference room and headed towards the ladder. Thirty steps, one ladder, and twelve more steps. That was all the time he had to compose himself before hitting Command. Would he even know what to do with himself without a mission? Without the threat of destruction lurking behind him like an uncomfortable shadow who had over time become as familiar to him as his own? Maybe he'd been a soldier too long. Maybe he'd even have been uncomfortable with Sara had they had the chance to marry and raise a family. Maybe Dylan Hunt was made for harder things.

Then there was Trance. Was the Dylan who'd met her on that riverbank so long ago older or younger than him before the timeline changed? Was Sara his first love, or Avera?

He gripped the ladder and tried to remember that time as he had often these last few weeks. To pull his history from the subconscious and into active memory. One came to him.

There they were on a warm day with no clouds to block out the sun. Trance and Sol stood ankle deep in water on the shore of a huge lake with their younger sister, Stella, between them. They were all three dressed for swimming, and the twins each held one of Stella's tiny hands.

"It's okay. It's scary at first and it hurts a little, but you'll learn to hold your breath. You don't really need to breathe, just like you don't really need to eat. Your sun gives you everything you need." Trance said, looking down at her sister with a smile. If she were human, she'd be about seven. Stella only three.

"I don't want to die," Stella said in her tiny voice. Though she was much older than three, it still astonished him that someone so tiny was aware of her mortality. He always forgot that they were only children in nature and size. The poor thing had been terrified of the deep, dark waters as long as Dylan had known her. He suspected the twins had bribed her with sweets and shining things to get her this far.

"We don't really die," Sol said. "Just sleep until we are better. The water can't kill us anyway. It's only pain, and you can learn to ignore it."

"But we will try not to stay under so long it hurts, okay?" Trance said.

"I can't believe she agreed to this," Dylan told Avera who sat beside him further up on the grassy shore, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. The breeze that blew her long hair into his face carried the laughter of more children playing in a field nearby and smelled of sweet, loamy soil.

"They are each persuasive alone, and more-so together. She'd do anything one of the twins asked of her. I only hope they use their powers of persuasion for good, not mischief." The love of a mother shone through her words and Dylan kissed her hair as he watched the trio wade deeper into the water until it was up to the twins' necks. Stella floated between, supported by her siblings' hands, a bright smile on her tiny face.

Dylan shook off the memory as he reached the Command Deck, but held onto the lingering warmth of the moment.

Command buzzed with activity. The harsh orange of the sun burned his retinas though Andromeda had lowered the screen's brightness. He took a deep breath, ready to start giving orders again when Andromeda popped up on screen.

"Captain, I'm sensing some strange—" She didn't finish. A brief flash and before him, as if his memories has summoned her, stood Stella in a simple black bodysuit. Her purple skin had faded, and her cheeks and neck were dusted with gold. Her hair had begun to take on hints of red like her sister's and her mother's. A nervous smile graced a face that resembled Trance's enough to prove them sisters. A look out of the corner of his eye showed that Rhade had seen it by the way he squinted at her. Beside Stella was another familiar face. Both from the Paradine Dylan's past and Captain Hunt's. Flux, with blue skin, horns, and nervous black eyes.

Force lances came to life around them as the Command crew reacted to the intruders. He held up a hand to stop anyone from shooting but made a note to commend them on their quick reactions.

Stella's gaze moved around Command, then fell on Dylan. She smiled more widely and spoke in Vedran. "Hi, Dylan. It's been a long time, even for me."


Trance locked gazes with Sol. The stubborn set of his jaw and the straight line made by his lips, she knew, was mirrored on her own face. His dark eyes flashed. He hadn't expected this. As children, she'd allowed him to make the decisions and she quietly abstained if she disagreed. They weren't prone to arguing.

Perhaps she'd spent too much time around Harper, or maybe she'd grown far more than he expected.

"We, your people, know that you are still our path to the perfect possible future. You alone can bring the dawn," Mayella said. Trance glanced at her. All traces of humor had bled from Mayella and soaked into the sand like the beautiful drinks Harper had carried here. She pleaded with Trance to understand without saying a word. But Trance didn't want to understand.

Through their touch she sensed Harper's unease growing, no doubt fueled by hers. She shook her head at Mayella.

"There is no perfect possible future. Perfection is the lie that we tell ourselves to justify the lives we ruin in pursuit of it." A part of her soul ripped as she spoke, a sharp pain deep inside. It throbbed with the flashes of memory that came to her.

10,000 Nietzschean deaths at the Witch Head Nebula, an encounter she'd ensured would happen at the behest of her people. They were soldiers who'd destroy the last remnants of the Commonwealth if not stopped but also fathers, brothers husbands, sisters, and daughters. Later, Harper writhing in pain as the Magog larvae in his gut tried to eat their way out of him and she stood helplessly by telling Dylan that he only had a week, at most, to live. Their time in Seefra, and how it had left scars on the souls of her friends. Choices made in pursuit of perfection.

Idealism made her a soldier. War torn and weary, she faced a brother who wanted to take on that life without understanding the cost of it. The twinkling lights in the trees blurred into orbs with insubstantial edges as tears threatened again.

Enough with these useless tears. She'd cried a lifetime's worth since the Worldship arrived on the doorstep of civilization at the Arkology and threatened the Known Worlds with an agonizing and bloody death.

She blinked them away and buried the ache in her heart. Wished the tide could carry it far out to the sea and drown it so it would never plague her again. Maybe it could carry her far away from her worries, too. Find her someplace to call home with the sun shining down and fertile soil to grow flowers in.

Sol reached out to her and Harper stirred. Though he remained silent, he gripped her hand tighter and took on a protective stance, digging his feet into the sand, muscles tensing as if ready to spring. But there was no threat in Sol's features. Only deep lines around the mouth and the shimmer of tears in his eyes.

"You really have lost hope." His fingers brushed her cheek. "You have to see that the Nebula needs to be defeated. For the good of our people and the Universe."

Mayella straightened herself. "We understand we cannot fight in the way organics fight. Casualties have been low. Our goal isn't to destabilize the Universe, but to protect life."

Trance shifted her gaze to Harper. His eyes were gray and stormy and the lights flashed like lightning as his pupils darted between each of them. Alert. On guard. Ready to fight even though he stood little chance of survival against one avatar, much less two. He was the reason she was alive today, even more so than Sol. He'd found her alone among her pillows in her secret closet and dragged her out so Andromeda could save her.

"Whose lives?" she asked. "When you talk about protecting lives, are you talking about the lives of our people or the organics?"

Sol and Mayella's silence was all she needed. She let go of Harper's hand and took her brother's, stepping slightly in front of Harper. The energy between her and Sol took on a jagged quality that raised the hairs on her arms and prickled the back of her neck. The bubbling mess of emotions in his eyes was familiar to her. It showed through Harper's eyes every day. The pain of losses so profound there were no words to express them. The anger and the rage at those who'd wronged him. Sharp, piercing hatred. She hadn't seen it through the sadness in her fever dream. Or maybe it had grown since then. Either way, it was here and her heart squeezed because she understood now why he'd chosen to wage this war.

She switched languages to an Ancient Egyptian with a quick side-glance at Mayella. This was personal and not for the ears of outsiders.

She motioned towards Harper. "Does his life mean nothing?" An unkind move, perhaps, but it would illustrate her point best.

"Of course not. You love him."

The expected answer; the product of epochs of conditioning and fueled by living lives separate from the rest of the creatures that populated their Universe. Though Sol had been infected, long ago, with her unique views on life and cared more for the Humans he nourished than most Lambent Kith did for organics, he'd never jumped over the ledge into the belief that Humans and other organics could be partners—even equals.

"So it is my love that gives his life value?" she pressed.

Sol didn't speak for a long moment. A new band began to play a flowing number on strings. Nearby, a woman laughed the airy laughter of the unburdened. The chatter of those in the woman's group rose to a peak and then faded away as they moved further down the beach. The breeze picked up and chilled Trance, lifting the hairs on her arms. She suppressed a shiver. Above her, the leaves rustled and the lights shifted, casting odd shadows on the faces of her companions.

She placed her hand on his cheek. The skin was smooth beneath her palm. "Everyone is loved by someone. All those in the Tagris system… The healers, architects, artists, chefs, and teachers—even the criminals. They all have people who love them as much as I love you."

"We have people in the Tagris system right now helping to evacuate it. We didn't forget about the people there," Sol said, but he didn't sound convinced by his own defense. Behind the anger and hatred was self-doubt. It's why he had come to her. Why he wanted—needed—for her to lead. If she took control it would reduce the weight of his choices.

But he'd started this.

She took her hand from his face and took both his hands between them again. "These are not war games fought with sticks and theatrics and whispered strategies under a clear blue sky. There are real lives. People are dying and billions have been displaced." She shook her head, let her pain show through. "I will not lead your resistance. I am sorry."

Cracks formed in both her heart and resolve as the hurt she'd read in Sol's eyes bled into his expression forming deep crevices on his forehead and lines beside his lips.

"We knew there was little chance she would agree tonight." Mayella's expression was grave, her eyes clouded with disappointment. Her tone gave away a battle inside to remain hopeful. Like Harper every time he lost a bet he'd expected to win though the deck was stacked against him. That almost youthful belief that just once, things might go his way. It didn't surprise Trance that they'd walked through this conversation already. But it did surprise Trance that Mayella truly wanted her—as powerless and as organic as the Rindrans—to be her queen.

"Your probability waves told you that, didn't they?" Trance asked as she released Sol's hands and turned to Mayella. She let herself soften towards the High Priestess. Not too long ago she would have called her sister despite having never met. "Did they tell you why? Were you able to see that far?"

"No." Mayella kept her chin and gaze down deferentially.

Trance reached out and lifted Mayella's chin. "We fight our way through chaos every day. Even when we can see the future, we still don't know which path will lead to our desired outcome. But our intentions can guide us. When you start out with good, you have a better chance of ending up with good." She'd told Dylan as much once before. She glanced over her shoulder first to Sol and then to Harper. The men's eyes were on her, watching and listening. "Anger, hatred, and a need for vengeance are not good. They are ugly, soul consuming things."

What came next would hurt Sol and would rip open the wounds healing on her heart. But it needed to be done. She turned her back to Mayella and Sol and moved with her head held high towards the entrance of the copse. Harper, gaze shifting nervously between the other two, followed and stepped beside her. Confusion was etched into his every move. Sol moved to stand before her. Trance took a deep breath and pushed her pain even deeper.

"As long as vengeance is your reason for fighting, I cannot be a part of your war, brother. I will not be a symbol for your resistance because of what I have lost—what we have lost." She leaned forward and kissed Sol's cheek. Breathed in his earthy scent. Closed her eyes and allowed his energy to warm her. Memorized the feel of having him near. Her brother who she'd missed for so long. "Goodbye, Sol."

And she left him standing there with Mayella. Turned her back and walked away, pulling a mask of calm over her face for the reporters. A moment later, Harper's hand found hers.

"I think we can ditch this shindig now. Screw what the reporters think," he said. She only nodded and leaned into him, exhausted.


"Stella?" Dylan asked, unable to believe his eyes.

She smiled brightly. The deck fell silent save for the shuffling fabric of interested crew leaning in to hear better, though they would understand little of the conversation.

"Yep, in the flesh. It's odd, I always knew there was someone there when we were children. Someone my mother loved, and who loved us but I could never see his face no matter how hard I tried. Then, a few weeks ago, by the way you count time, I knew—it was you. It is so good to see you."

"I'm—surprised to see you. What are you doing here?"

"We're here to help." She motioned toward the view port with her chin, the smile fading to a frown.

"Even him? Last time I saw Flux he tried to kill Trance."

Stella turned to her companion and raised her brows, eyes sparkling with that playfulness he'd missed in Trance after she traded places with herself. He knew it from when Stella was a child, too. A little girl who loved stories and sensed there was one to be had.

Flux's eyes went wide and he held his hands in front of him. "I didn't mean it, and to be fair, she punched me pretty hard in the gut. It was all part of the act. I promise there were no hard feelings between us. I would never hurt her, you have to believe me Dylan. Besides, it's best we don't rehash the past at this moment. There are more pressing concerns."

Stella nodded again. "He's right. We—both Flux and I—are here on behalf of the Resistance. I know we're a bit late, but I had some trouble getting away from the Nebula." She shrugged the way a teenager did when talking about breaking Mom's rules, not someone defying the all powerful council she was a part of. "We have 32 people standing by to tesseract the remaining Tagarians directly to the refugee colonies. Another two dozen or so are ready to swoop in with medical supplies and expertise.

Dylan's mouth went dry. The Resistance. The little girl from his memory, so timid and afraid with water lapping around her ankles, stood before him, a grown woman risking her life with a smile on her face. Avera's children were always meant to face the darkness head on. It had cost Trance her powers and her future. Now he feared what it would cost Stella.

"You risk exposing your people by helping, and if the Nebula finds out—"

"They'll kill us both," she said without hesitation, and with no concern in her expression. She'd weighed the risks and accepted them already. She gestured towards a console and he stepped towards it. The ensign manning it moved across the deck. Dylan tapped in the commands to unlock it, giving Stella basic access. Her fingers danced over it until she'd created up a list of sensor specifications.

"We have a little bit of insurance against that. If you have all of the ships in your fleet and every refugee colony emit broadband interference at these frequencies, it should mask my resistance workers. The Nebula will be able to sense there is Kith activity, but they won't be able to tell how many are here or identify us. It won't work forever, but by the time they figure it out we'll have another strategy to keep them guessing."

"Andromeda, did you get all that?" he asked shifting into Common again.

Andromeda popped up on screen. She gave Stella and Flux a professional nod. "Aye Captain, what would you like me to do?"

"Send the specifications out across the fleet. Order them to comply. Send couriers to the refugee colonies and have them do the same." He turned to Stella and switched back into Vedran, glad his parents spoke it alongside Common growing up on Tarn Vedra. Even out of practice it flowed with the ease of a native language. "Are you certain none of your people have infiltrated any of our ships?"

"I am able to shield my thoughts from the Nebula, but they cannot shield from me anything they decide as a unit. If any are in this system right now, they weren't sent by the full council. And, while I don't see as well as Trance did, the probability we will succeed here is high."

Must be nice to know how the odds are stacked. It reassured him, but he worried for this woman he helped raise. Though the memories were still returning, his feelings told him all he needed to know about their relationship.

"Why do this? Why risk your life? When Trance finds out she's going to worry."

Flux laughed. "That's hardly anything new. Trance worries, it's what she does. It's in her nature." Then, his lips formed a straight, serious line. "We need to be here. There is no way that your organic fleet can save all these people, though your attempts are as impressive as they are valiant. And if I know Trance, these lives are precious to her though she's never spent and time here and even far away on Rindra she is concerned over them."

"It is the right thing to do," Stella said, giving Flux a small smile. "Even if it is hard, dangerous, and scary… it is right."

Dylan touched Stella's cheek before pulling her into an embrace, unconcerned with what the crew might think

"Two months ago I thought I'd never have children, and now I know I had a whole family." He kissed her hair, his heart filled to overflowing. "I am so proud of you and the woman you've grown into."

Stella beamed. "That means so much to me. Now, let's get to work."


Trance sat in front of the vanity in their room, her reflection showing in the light lined mirror. She pulled her comb through her curls, taking small sections of her hair and teasing out the tangles. Silent and serious, as if it were a type of meditation. Harper had not yet tired of watching her go through these small routines every night and every morning. The domesticity appealed to him. Made it more intimate than any relationship he'd been in before.

She stopped and stared at her reflection for a moment. Her shoulders rose and fell as she released a deep breath. She set the comb down in front of her, but remained in place. It was hard to see her expression from here, but he didn't need to. The slope of her shoulders gave way the invisible weight stacked on top of them. He'd given her space and room to breathe, allowed her to keep her silence as they rode back to the penthouse, but they were alone now, and this is not something she could bury.

"Why don't you come here and tell me?" He patted the down comforter beside him. For a beat, she remained in place and he wondered if she were so lost inside her thoughts that she hadn't heard but just as he was about to repeat himself she turned in her chair and stood. His eyes brushed over her body, taking in her bare, rose-gold dusted legs, the tiny shorts and a tank top that barely brushed her waist band. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders. This had become their new normal. A world where she literally let her hair down with him.

She climbed onto the bed and curled those legs up beside her. He wrapped his arm around her, coaxing her closer until her side pressed against his. He placed a kiss on her head.

"What's going on in there?" he asked for the second time that night.

They'd left the curtains open to the night sky and the city lights. The room was done up in wood and warm colors with floral prints on the upholstery and large vases containing ferns and other tropical plants all around. Trance had added a few over the last couple of days. Her unfocused eyes rested on a pot of pink flowers set against emerald leaves, each blossom larger than his fist.

"That was kind of monumentally huge thing to spring on you," he tried when she remained silent.

"We don't normally fight," she said finally.

He almost laughed. Not because the situation warranted it, but because he wouldn't have applied the word fight to what he'd seen. Not even close.

"That was the most civil fight I have ever seen between siblings. Did I tell you that I pulled a gun on my cousin last time I saw him? Wasn't the first time either. That's how cousins and siblings fight on Earth." He kept his tone light. The corner of her mouth tugged up. He left out the context of his fight. How he'd threatened to shoot if Brendan didn't call off the revolution they'd started before it turned into a bloody massacre.

"It was a fight, nonetheless." Her voice cracked. He wished he could kiss away the pain, grief and longing that surrounded her. She laid her head down on his shoulder. "I just want to go home."

"Couple more days, babe. I've got a couple things I want to show you, maybe that will keep your mind off everything until we get back to the Maru." Then, something that had been nagging at him since they left the party began knocking the inside of his skull. Wouldn't leave him alone. "I just…" But he trailed off, not sure if this was the right time.

She lifted her head and met his eyes. "What is it?"

He fidgeted. Should never have opened his mouth in the first place because now she was giving him that look he could never ignore, the one that told him to tell her everything or she would figure out a way to extract it from him.

"Well—I mean—don't you think he might be right? Who else is gonna stand up to the Nebula if not a bunch of stars and you are still alive, so you are technically their queen unless there is a stipulation that your powers and immortality must be intact. It seems to me that you are as much a player in this game of thrones as they are."

He waited for anger or a disagreement but it didn't come.

"Of course he's right. It is rare that in an argument one party is completely right and the other party completely wrong." She was so damned reasonable all the time. How'd she do it? Then she spoke again with a childish pout. "But I am more right and he is more wrong. He'll see it eventually."

This time, Harper did laugh. "Now that sounds more like a sibling."

She allowed a tiny smile of her own and then the frown returned, bringing watery company. One tear and then another spilled from her eyes and journeyed down her cheeks. He tightened his hold on her and she laid her head on his shoulder again. "I cannot support him in this. Even if it is right. Even if I had the strength to be the queen he wants me to be—and I am not sure I do—he isn't doing it for a better Universe. He is doing it out of anger, and desire to make the Nebula hurt the way they've hurt him. That path only leads to darkness, and more death."

"How long does the silent treatment last then? How long before he sees that you are…more right."

Now she fidgeted. Played with the down comforter, pressing it down in intervals until peaks and valleys formed then smoothing them out. He cleared his throat after a few moments of watching her methodical movements.

"The longest was two thousand years."

"Two thousand years?" He punctuated each word because holy crap that was a long time. "What did you guys fight about?"

Her fingers stopped moving and hovered over the comforter. She lifted her head again and when their eyes met he thought he might lose himself in hers.

"The Nebula. He told me not to join, that he did not trust them. I told him it was my duty." She sighed. "That time he was more right, but we didn't see it for far too long."

He kissed her forehead. "We don't have two thousand years."

"He won't take that long. For us, it will be months before he contacts me again. For him, it will be like stepping outside to take a few breaths and cool down."

"And then?"

"And then we will see what the Universe will require from us."