The ship hums quietly as I launch out into empty space. The journey is long, but I enjoy the silence. When Telisto's shadow fades from view, it seems for an eternity as if I'm not moving at all.

I think I'll go to Kronia. That way, I don't have to stop at the nearest relay, but nor will I be putting off landing until the last.

After a few hours, Saturn comes into view. I start seeing Lisets docking and leaving the relay.

I shiver, giving them a wide berth.

After disembarking, I make my way to the Concourse. Cool light fills the relay, in shades of blue, white, and teal. Tenno banners hang from the walls, which I've grown accustomed to.

The warframes, not so much.

I wonder how the world looks to the Tenno, having slept through the last few hundred years. Is it much different than they expected? Or do they even care, with so few things that pose even the slightest threat to them?

… Well, many have aligned themselves with the Steel Meridian, so I suppose they can't be all bad.

(Unless they plan to betray the syndicates, too.)

My interest lies primarily in the West Wing. Though I'm most sympathetic to the ideals of the Steel Meridian, I prefer to avoid the other two Eastern syndicates. Maybe I'll stop by on the way out, though.

"Cai?"

I pause, lifting my visor at the semi-familiar voice, "Killian?"

The broad-shouldered Perrin Sequence merchant grins from outside his syndicate's section, spreading his arms wide. I promptly leap into them, hugging him tightly before dropping back to the ground.

"Oof, there she is!" Killian looks relieved, "No one's seen you since that genetic blob Vay Hek destroyed the relays. I was starting to get worried."

"I just needed some time. Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where I might find some neurodes, would you?"

Killian whistles, "Oh, wow. I might have a few connections, but you'd better have a pretty good load of oxium for that. What do you need neurodes for?"

I just smile.

"Alright, keep your secrets. I can have a price for you in a few hours, and we can make the transaction in, say, three days?"

"I can make that. Thanks, Killian."

He's a bit bemused, "Any time. What are you going to want next, an argon crystal?"

I chuckle, but the idea is tantalizing. A few good things have come about with the revival of the Tenno, not the least being that resources that were impossible to obtain before are now actually within reach. There are so many things that I could do with one good argon crystal.

But no. I don't need one. Maybe another day.

"Actually," I say, "I do have a bit of a shopping list today. Starting with the usual."

"Rations," Killian nods knowingly, "You know, if you just aligned with the Perrin Sequence, you wouldn't have to worry about food."

"Hey, if I ever went insane and joined a syndicate, you know which one I'd pick."

"The Steel Meridian is no place for a merchant, Cai."

The world seems to fade a little, "Killian, no syndicate is a place for me."

(You're all much too young.)

But a moment later, my smile is back, "Hey, your brother's out of the Corpus now, right? How's he adjusting?"

Killian brightens, "Pretty well, actually. The Tenno still freak him out, but I think he's starting to warm up to them. It's kinda scary, I don't think he ever would have left the Corpus if it weren't for that attack."

"He's lucky to have survived," I agree, "How's the family holding up?"

"A little better now, I think. It needs some time. Oh, but Tex'll be here for game night next week – you should drop by."

"I'll be sure to try."

I continue to chat amiably with Killian, and we're shortly joined by a friend of his from the Red Veil. A thinner, scarred man named Halt who grimaces when he realizes that I deal with the Corpus as well as syndicates, but seems appeased when I explain that I avoid them whenever possible.

(A different face deals with them. It's true, the Corpus is one of the most powerful and corrupt factions in the systems, but as with everything else, it's made of people. Most of them struggling to stay afloat in a society that tells every one that she is an asset, to be used or discarded as necessary.)

(They're the strongest carriers of the remnants of the Orokin, in culture and blood.)

Eventually I steer the conversation back to trade, and Halt breaks away for a few minutes while Killian and I discuss specifics. Sadly, the value of oxium has dropped recently, but I still have enough to see to my most immediate needs.

I visit the Red Veil section while Killian makes arrangements – I don't think any of my contacts in this syndicate survived the Formorian attacks, so I need to get some new ones. Halt seems surprised by my entrance, but that doesn't faze me as I approach him, "Hey, Killian mentioned you could use some steel…"

I give him what I'm pretty sure is a good deal on it, plus some gallium, since I'm mostly just trying to build a bridge. He warms up as we get to talking about people we've lost to various violent conflicts, though I hope this topic doesn't come up again after I've forgotten the names of those I mention. Which probably won't take long – my memory is rather exceptional, and not in a good way.

In any case, the time comes to meet back with the Perrin Sequence. Killian is chatting with a New Lokan woman when I arrive, but gestures for me to join.

"This is Cai Tanya," he says, "Freelance merchant. She needs to pick up some stuff, too. Cai, this is Ellia – New Loka."

I nod, "Everything done?"

"Yep, all good. We're over here." Killian starts walking toward the docking bay, and Ellia and I follow.

"Freelance, huh?" Ellia says, "That must be tough."

"I get by," I reply, "How about you? What is it you do?"

"Pilot. Mostly civilian transports, but I help the Perrin Sequence move around sometimes, as well."

"Hey," Killian says, "You saying we're not civilians?"

"I'm saying a merchant vessel is different from a simple transport."

"Ah. Fair enough."

"It's hard to make connections when you're moving around all the time," I note, "Are you planning on setting down roots eventually?"

"I don't know," Ellia shakes her head, "I kind of feel safer moving around. There's an awful lot of space out there – it's not too hard to just not be in the same place as someone else. But when you settle down, you don't have that, you know? It's harder to get away if something happens."

I frown, "So you plan to keep flying even if you take back Earth?"

"Maybe. But, maybe not – it may seem naïve, but I think if the time comes that we get Earth back, the system will be a safer place. It could be worth it to settle down, then."

"Here we are," Killian says, stopping by the loading ramp of a massive Corpus carrier, styled in the Perrin Sequence's colors, "Ladies first."

"Oh, please," Ellia replies, "Age before beauty."

I roll my eyes, and start up the ramp.

(The joke is lost on them.)

I'm back in the piercing blue of Corpus light. Larger-scale negotiations tend to take place on the neutral ground of the Concourse, but small, personal transactions are simpler to deal with on a syndicate's ship. I'm sure the Perrin Sequence will help me move the crates of circuits that I need, but I will need to be present for them to be allowed entrance to my ship.

Walls of crates are stacked neatly in ship's massive loading bay. Most of them look nearly identical, varying only in size – over the years, I've gotten some idea of their organizational system, but the labels are locked to all but Perrin Sequence agents. Some are even keyed specifically to higher-level agents. I'm not sure what would happen to someone who attempted to steal from the Perrin Sequence, but I'm sure it would not be pretty.

It seems oddly quiet in here.

"Looks like the lifters are getting maintenance," Killian says, unhooking a pad from his belt, "They should be back in a minute. So, Ellia, statuettes under five inches – we've got a few birds, a chesa kubrow, a dolphin, and–"

The air freezes.

I suck in a sharp breath, knees locking. Something grabs my wrists. Perrin Sequence agents emerge from behind rows of crates, MOAs beside them and ospreys rising into the air above. One stands in an arctic Eximus suit, watching as the rest restrain the three of us.

The ramp has risen behind us, sealing us in. Screaming isn't going to help. No sound is going to escape this bay.

"Killian," the Eximus says, "Your father would like you to know how very disappointed he is. Your destructive tendencies are tearing the family apart, not to mention ruining our reputation, and so his hand has been forced."

Not Perrin Sequence. Corpus.

"What is this?" Ellia demands, "This is a relay! You can't–"

"I hope," the Eximus interrupts, "Your pacifist friends consider the consequences of saying the wrong thing to someone who holds their lives in his hands."

No syndicate is pacifist, I think, pacifists don't have hit squads. Though, compared to the Corpus, I can see where his mistake comes from.

"What are you, New Loka? That's the green one, right?"

Ellia just growls at him.

The Eximus turns to me, "What about you?"

"Freelance," I answer, through teeth gritted to keep them from chattering, "Whatever's going on here, I'd appreciate it if you left me out of it."

Killian's head snaps around toward me, "What?"

"Be that as it may, the situation is delicate." He gestures toward me and Ellia, "Put these two with the others – I'll speak with you later, freelancer."

The Eximus' aura shuts off, and his Corpus foot soldiers drag Ellia and I to our feet, MOAs flanking us as we're marched deeper into the ship. The floor vibrates beneath my feet, enormous engines humming to life. We're lifting off. I put odds at about fifty-fifty they won't kill us – under normal circumstances I'd put them higher, but this is Killian's father. I've dealt with him before.

(Dated him for a brief time, actually, in my last life. He's quite handsome, and endearingly awkward in a personal environment – I can see why he has so many kids. Cutthroat businessman, though, and while his temper isn't quick, it is devastating.)

(He's also the reason that, when it came time to change faces, I found and befriended Killian. It helps to know personal information about someone before formally meeting them.)

(Come to think of it, I probably should have seen this coming…)

We're shortly locked in a sizeable closet with a few other New Lokans inside. I suspect there's no room in the brig – while standard Corpus carriers have plenty of prison cells, the Perrin Sequence generally cut that number down to increase storage space. These Corpus probably saved the limited cell space for actual Perrin Sequence agents.

Which is a concerning thought.

"What happened here?" I ask.

A young man, sitting on a table, answers, "They hijacked the machines, then came out from where they were hiding in the cargo hold. When someone new comes on board, they find out the syndicate. Perrin Sequence goes to the cells, everyone else comes here."

Huh. I was right on the mark with the prisoner allocation, though that's not terribly helpful if I don't know why.

An older woman, nodding toward the first speaker, adds, "He was here with the original crew. The rest of us were taken at the relay."

I nod, "Have they said anything about what they're planning?"

"Just that if we don't make trouble, we'll all make it back home alive."

Oh, that's a good sign. Maybe I'll just be able to ride this out after all. I'm sure Killian will meet a terrible fate, but there's really nothing I can do about that.

(He was a good contact. I'll probably remember his name for at least half a year.)

"We can't just sit on our thumbs," Ellia says, and turns to the boy, "You say you were part of the original crew? That means you know the layout of the ship."

"Whoa!" I say, "Wait just a second! If they said they're going to let us go–"

"You can't actually believe them," Ellia interrupts, incredulous.

(The most worrying thing about Killian's father is that he's a man of his word. But I'm Cai Tanya, and I wouldn't know anything about that.)

"I'm inclined to," I reply.

"What does it matter, anyway?" A man asks, "They're evil. If we don't try to do something, we're just allowing their taint to spread. How can we call ourselves human then?"

Easily, I think, very, very easily.

That's the thing about New Lokans, though. 'Human' doesn't mean 'flawed' to them. Instead, it's representative of an ideal – an amalgamation of the very best parts of humanity. It's something to aspire to, though only the delusional would think it attainable.

And it carries heavy weight with this crowd. Their backs straighten, a determined light sparking in their eyes.

I don't like where this is going.

The door opens behind me, and a Corpus crewman – now out of his Perrin Sequence disguise – beckons, "Come on, freelancer."

"Hey," Ellia says, "You can't trust them."

I reply, "I know."

A larger MOA moves in front of the door as I follow the crewman, two ospreys flanking it. Pretty good guard for the six or seven unarmed people inside, even if it doesn't include any operators.

Come to think of it, I see distinctly few people on the rather lengthy walk to the bridge – I wonder if the crowd that jumped us in the loading bay was the entirety of the Corpus crew? It would make sense if they needed a small strike force to have even a chance of this hijack working, but it's also a pretty big gamble. The ship's original crew must be quite a lot larger, so if they were armed, they'd only need control of a few machines to retake the ship.

That's probably why the Perrin Sequence is being held separately. Since this is their home turf, they've got pretty good odds of taking back control if they're not split up from other people, and from each other.

Though… that doesn't quite explain why Perrin Sequence newly coming on board wouldn't be grouped together with New Loka.

The red lights on the door in front of us blink to green, and then we're walking onto the bridge.

A man stands before the windows, hands clasped, his back turned. He's still wearing the Eximus suit, though without the helmet. Beyond the windows, Saturn's rings cut through the stars. I can see Enceladus drifting below us, its geysers feeding more ice into the rings.

"Cai Tanya," the man greets me.

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure," I reply.

"Wen Til. I noticed the Corpus has had some dealings with you in the past."

"Ah, yes. I've occasionally needed to use incentives to ensure the other end of the bargain was held, but I've heard your family's word is better than most."

"So it is," he sounds appreciative, and turns to face me. Those sharp angles look familiar – I think this is Killian's father's brother, so I suspect what I'm seeing is the resemblance. "As I mentioned before, however, that reputation has been put in jeopardy. There are factions within the Corpus that have noticed several of our family defecting to the Perrin Sequence, and it's started some ugly rumors."

"I can imagine," I say, "However, as I said before, it's none of my business."

"Perhaps it could be."

"… How do you mean?"

There's a sharp glint in his eyes as he smiles, "You're free to go. There are some small transports in the hangar – you should be able reach any of the inner planets from here."

"What's the catch?" I ask.

"Only that you remember this kindness, particularly when considering your business dealings in the future."

Hmm, remembering could be a problem. "Fair enough. Perhaps we'll be dealing with each other again soon."

"I look forward to it," Wen Til says.

I start to turn, but then pause, "Ah, just one more question."

"Ask."

"You're planning for everyone on this ship to live, correct? With the possible exception of Killian?"

Wen Til hesitates before answering, "The New Lokans have my word that they will not come to harm, so long as they do not resist us."

… Ah. So the Perrin Sequence crew has no such promise. The pieces click into place.

Killian's family isn't prominent enough within the Corpus to call this shot outright, but staging this incident will work just as well. A crew of dead Perrin Sequence, with New Loka hostages to serve as witness – the merchant syndicate will be compelled to retaliate, which the Board of Directors is certainly not going to take well.

They're going to start a war between the Corpus and the Perrin Sequence.

"Is something wrong?"

I sigh, "Oh, I just don't like conflict. It won't be a problem to you."

And this is why, even if I wanted to align with a syndicate, I couldn't. I won't serve a cause outside of myself. No one here – including Killian – is anything more than an acquaintance to me. I'm not going to risk my life for them.

(I wouldn't risk my life for my own children.)

Wen Til narrows his eyes, "Make sure it isn't. Conflict is inevitable – if you don't step carefully, you may just find everything taken from you."

The world seems to slow. I can't hear my heartbeat.

(My husband. My children. My civilization.)

(No.)

The world blurs into focus. Green Corpus letters glow at the edges of my vision, detailing the integrity of my… bulky suit that I'm apparently wearing now. I'm out in open space, and Neptune is a small blue spot in the distance. There are magnetic clamps built into my gloves, holding me to the–

To the hull of a Perrin Sequence carrier. Oh dear. A moment ago, I was on the bridge, and now I'm… well, on the bridge.

(It's been a while since this has happened.)

Sometimes, when someone says something, or I encounter something that hits too close to home, I black out. Or, more accurately, I lose time – while I don't remember these blackouts, I'm certainly aware during them, and tend to behave in a manner that I can only describe as insane. It's the biggest headache in the world to wake up and try to figure out what I've just done.

It's a fair distance from Saturn to Neptune, and carriers aren't the fastest of ships – I've probably lost at least an hour. More if the ship didn't make a beeline to here.

At least the ship appears to be intact. There are a few windows that I can see, none of which show indications of catastrophic failure inside. My personal life support is near optimal levels – I probably haven't been out here very long.

Through one of those windows, someone peeks out from behind a crate. It's Ellia. She signals me. I'm pretty deep in shadow, so she must have known where to look.

So there's some kind of plan in motion. That's. Just. Great.

Ellia signals again, and I start to feel tension curling through my fingers. Clearly I'm supposed to do something.

Okay, don't panic, just think about the problem. If I'm aiding Ellia in subterfuge, then New Loka must be enacting a plan to take over the ship. I'm probably supposed to know what that plan is, but now I'm just going to have to figure it out as I go.

Focus. I can't directly access any systems from here, but there are several sections that I can look into without being seen. Most notably, the bridge – it's empty, though I don't know how to tell Ellia that, and I find it doubtful that that's what she's looking for anyway. I'm pretty sure she wants me to do something, not just pass along information.

Ellia's starting to look concerned. Not good.

My heart is pounding, breath roaring in my ears. I start digging through my suit, as much as I can with my limited range of motion. If I have the right tools, I can get under the hull, and then it doesn't matter what New Loka's planned. I can just–

There's something hooked to my shoulder. I retrieve it.

Oh, yes. This will do nicely.

Ellia doesn't seem to be put at ease as I activate the heat knife, but I ignore her, making my way along the ship's surface. If I'm remembering the specs correctly, there should be power conduits right about… here.

I sever the bindings on one of the panels. It floats away into space, but there's only solid circuitry beneath.

(Did they change the design again?)

No, wait, I want the one to the left.

Light flashes at the corner of my vision. I glance over – MOAs have filled Ellia's room. One hits her with an electric beam. She appears to be screaming.

That's what you get for playing the hero, I think as I pull out the correct panel. If Wen Til doesn't want an outright battlefront with New Loka, he'll probably have taken precautions to keep any of those hostages from dying. If I'm caught, however, I'll certainly be killed.

Good thing I'm a bit of a tinker.

I drift down into the ship's veins (that term was more literal, once). A vast amount of empty space surrounds the massive power conduit running through here, illuminated by the glow of streaming plasma inside. The light dances through this metal cavern, vanishing into maintenance shafts along the walls. Several cables cut through the space. They're about as wide as I am, and they look like the filaments of a spider's web next to the conduit.

I spin the heat knife in my fingers. Where to start?

Well, let's get the combat machines out of the way. I reroute power from propulsion to send a pervasive electromagnetic pulse through the ship. That should knock out every MOA and osprey on board (and energy weapons. And personal life support systems), plus it'll stall the engines for a bit. That's two birds with one stone. What else, what else…?

I can reach just about anywhere inside the ship through those maintenance tunnels, though there aren't a lot of access points to the pressurized sections. I need to get to the indoor systems to do anything delicate, but I can't cut my way inside. Shielding won't have been affected by the EMP, so any hole I try to make will be sealed long before I can fit through. But going in through a pressurization chamber makes me a sitting duck to anyone on the other side…

So I'll just have to get rid of the shields.

(So much power in the automation. That's what the sentients used against us.)

This one's a bit trickier than the EMP. Mostly because the pieces involved are unwieldy – the simplest way to do this is to chop a hole directly into the power conduit, so it starts venting enough plasma to shut down non-essential systems. That plasma needs somewhere to go, however, or else this chamber is quickly going to fill with the volatile material. And then it'll explode.

There's not much chance of survivors if this place explodes.

I carve a few small chunks out of the wall – a single large, pie-shaped piece would be better, but that would take far too much time. This will serve my purpose.

There are several sensors throughout the chamber, for tracking the conduit's status. I rip one out of its place, taking it to one of the thick cables. After severing the cable, I open up the sensor, and get to welding and tying the parts together. Stitching together all the pieces I need.

With a makeshift plug attached to a cable that I can barely wrap my arms around, I start cutting into the conduit.

It's probably been about half an hour since the EMP – anyone with basic technical experience should be able to get affected devices back up and running at this point. Hopefully the Perrin Sequence have taken back control, but I'm not banking on that.

Blue-white light sears against the heat knife as I carve into the glass, then blasts that glass into my face. Warning lights snap on within my helmet as my shields plummet. I ignore them, shoving the plug into the opening – blocking off the venting plasma – and fusing it to the glass. That'll reroute massive amounts of power to propulsion, which is going to do absolutely nothing until someone deals with the engines.

That's definitely enough of a diversion to affect the shields, though I'm not sure it'll be enough for me to cut a door into life zones. I'll just have to find out.

Most systems access is on the bridge, but I'm not too keen on going to such a visible spot. The engine room, on the other hand, should be able to reach everything I need to get to. Plus, several of the maintenance tunnels lead directly there, since it has most of the ship's small pressurization chambers.

I use one of those tunnels to get into the engine room's ceiling. The heat knife is super-charged from its contact with the main conduit's power, and slices through the metal like butter.

Just before I finish the door, though, the blade flashes like a firework and dies.

Too much super-charge. Pale blue light crawls through the cuts – that's the shields, sealing the breaks to protect the atmosphere inside. I curse in a dead language, and hook the broken tool back to my shoulder. I may still be able to use its parts.

Looks like I'm going through a chamber, after all. I switch to the Infested language.

I go to the chamber that seems most likely to have passed beneath notice, and start the pressurization sequence. The airlock closes like a tomb behind me. Air hisses into the small container, and I hold my breath, braced for a firing squad.

After a long, agonizing minute, the door into the engine room opens. There are only deactivated MOAs on the other side. I exhale.

Much as I want to tear this clunky spacesuit off, I have no idea how much time I have. So instead I only pull off the gloves as I run to a control console. It takes a manual bypass – I open up the machine and stab the offending circuit board with the broken heat knife – to get into the system, and then it takes only a moment to put the engine room in complete lockdown.

My hands are shaking. The ship is silent as death. I'm safe, for now.

I remove the rest of the suit, relishing the freedom of simple clothes. From here, I can get into the mainframe, and then hack into the cameras. It's time to see where the pieces have fallen.

A handful of displays blink to life, and I toggle through different inputs to find what I'm looking for. The Perrin Sequence and New Loka have the cargo hold. A few of them are unboxing advanced attack drones from the crates. That's good.

Oh, but the Corpus are holding Ellia, two other New Lokans, and a Perrin Sequence agent on the bridge. That's not so good.

It seems no one has tried to get the MOAs and ospreys back up. I suppose that's logical, since for all intents and purposes, the machines were dead for a little while. If no one knows that it was an EMP that took them out, then there's no reason to think that it's possible to reactivate them.

Well, that makes this easy. I open a channel to the bridge, and pull some stiff wires out of my broken heat knife, "Hey, Killian."

The occupants of the cargo hold collectively jump, and Killian responds, "Cai?! What happened? Where are you?"

Oh, there's no way I'm answering either of those – the first because I don't know what happened, and the second because this channel is not secure. I open up one of the larger MOAs lying around here, and ask, "Can you get a message to the Board of Directors?"

"Why?"

"Big picture, Killian. Your family is trying to start a war that the Corpus doesn't want, but will engage in if they're provoked. We can give them an out, though – we just need to tell the Board of Directors what Wen Til is doing. Then they can disavow his actions, which will allow the Perrin Sequence to retaliate against him without Corpus protection."

"Wow. That's. You're like a completely different person when you're under pressure, you know that?"

I grimace, "You're only now noticing?"

"No, it was pretty clear when you told my uncle that none of this matters to you. Everything after that was just… uh… well, I'm glad you're on our side. If we can take the bridge, then I can get the message to the Board."

"Consider it done." My wires are set in the MOA – I turn it on.

The combat machine whirs to life, climbing to its feet. A moment later, the MOAs nearby follow suit. The first one is transmitting its commands – capture Corpus – to the others, and soon every autonomous machine that was caught in the EMP will have the same orders.

(Silly children, using such easily-manipulated technology.)

I release the engine room's lockdown, allowing these MOAs to carry out their orders. Wen Til has probably sealed off the bridge, but–

I chuckle as I look at the cameras. The machines that were already present on the bridge have engaged with the Corpus, and it's clear the fight isn't going to last long.

… Wait. Wen Til isn't there.

A quiet buzz of electricity nearby. I look up, and my breath catches.

Wen Til stands by the door, a supra in hand, the door's keypad open beside him. Small blue arcs jump across its surface – the door is sealed, and he's jammed the lock. We're both trapped in here.

"Airlock pressurization shows up on the sensors," he says, voice soft, "There's an awful lot of power in here, as I'm sure you've noticed. Impressive work, still – you're quite the engineer. And quite the liar."

"It was a good plan," I reply, "You might have pulled it off, if you were just able to hold the ship."

"Why the betrayal? I gave you a good deal."

"Favors aren't good for me. I can never remember them."

"Well," Wen Til hefts his rifle, "My reputation is gone. When my idiot nephew sends that message, I expect it will be a challenge just to keep my life. So, there's just one thing left to do."

I start to back away.

On the second step, Wen Til is aiming at me.

I dive behind the control console. With a concussive blast, the supra's bolts cut straight through it, and pain explodes through my hip.

(I'm screaming.)

I reach for the shredded skin. Some of the damage is from the shot. A lot is from shrapnel. There's so much blood, I can't. I can't–

"Loyalty to your friends, right?" Wen Til asks. He's standing above me, "I'm surprised you've lived so long, with that kind of vulnerability."

No. I know why I did this, and it wasn't for some noble purpose. It wasn't to save the crew, or to prevent yet another war in this blood-filled system. It was simply because he reminded me of things better left forgotten, and I want him to suffer for that.

(The past doesn't exist. The past is nothing but a dream.)

Wen Til scowls as he places the supra's barrels against my head, "Whatever."

(Looks like I'm not making it to game night.)