Choose your words carefully, because you can’t take them back and who knows what will be made of them later.  Sometimes the most innocent of encounters becomes far more than it initially appeared once hindsight rears her fair head.

— Ryland LeSarte, circa 4857

17 Decem, 5249 PD

“This planet is beautiful,” Winston said as he and Brendan walked up the pathway from the beach back toward Nova Spexi proper.  “All of the file footage the Colonial Office has in the system doesn’t do it justice at all.”

“When was the last time the Colonial Office sent a survey team here?”  Brendan shoved his hands deep into his pockets, watching the inspector carefully.  Marshal Rose still had a team trying to crack the encryption on Timrel Winston’s official file, since their previous query through regular channels hadn’t given them anything.  Rachel was willing to trust the inspector, but the Marshals—particularly Daci—wanted to verify as well.

“Not all of them are like you, Frederick.  We know that they’re corruptible.”

“Sephora picked him herself.  She knows what to look for.”

“Not even Sephora Damerian is infallible.  I’ll have a look for myself, thank you.”

They were well-matched, those two.

Just about as well-matched as Lindsay and I.

Winston’s voice startled him from his thoughts.  “You know what?  I don’t think I know.  At least fifty or sixty years ago.”

“I’d guess longer ago than that,” Brendan said, shaking his head slightly.  “More like a century and maybe more.  I don’t know that a survey team’s been here since the Foundation staked its claim and started settlement.”

Winston shook his head.  “That doesn’t make sense.  Claims have to be inspected every fifty years to ensure—”

“Not if they’re a perpetual claim.”

“But they—”  Winston stopped, staring at Brendan for a long moment.  “The Foundation has a perpetual claim to E-557?”

“To the whole system, in fact,” a voice said from behind them.  Brendan tensed up, barely suppressing the shudder that wanted to race through him.

What the hell is D’Arcy doing out here this early in the morning?  I didn’t know that he even knew what the dawn looked like.  “Good morning, D’Arcy,” Brendan said, forcing himself to be as pleasant as possible.  What’s he up to this time?

“Good morning, Commander Cho.  If you have duties essential to our defense to attend to this morning, I would be happy to play tour guide to our guest.”  D’Arcy studied Winston for a moment.  “I assume that this is our esteemed visitor from the Inspector General’s office.”

Brendan swallowed a sigh and nodded.  “Inspector Winston, this is D’Arcy Morgause, one of the members of the Rose Council.  D’Arcy, Inspector Timrel Winston of the Commonwealth Inspector General’s office.”

“I’m honored to meet you, Inspector,” D’Arcy said as he extended his hand to the other man.  “It’s not every day we receive visitors from the  Commonwealth proper.”

“From what I’ve seen it’s not that often at all—mostly refugees looking for asylum.”  Winston smiled briefly as he shook D’Arcy’s hand.  “Having seen what this world looks like and the way you people seem to live, I can’t say that I blame any of those refugees coming here, either.  It’s amazing.”

D’Arcy gave him a thin smile.  “What’s amazing is that there are refugees at all.  I had heard that things were improving in Commonwealth space since the last wars ended.  Was I mislead?”

Brendan’s stomach dropped.  What the hell is he talking about?  Things have been getting worse since Mimir fell and that war ended.  Who would be telling him—unless he’s playing games.  He eyed D’Arcy for a long moment and wondered if maybe he’d underestimated the Council’s spymaster.

“Ah, things are better than they used to be, that’s for certain,” Winston said carefully.  “But I wouldn’t say they’ve improved wholesale, not from my perspective.  There are efforts to go even further with the reforms that began thirty years ago, but the politicos that are spearheading those efforts are running into some significant resistance these days.”  Winston stole a glance at Brendan, one brow arching slightly.

Brendan shook his head slightly, struggling to keep his expression impassive.  He couldn’t very well stop D’Arcy from talking to the inspector if he wanted to.  The man was a member of the Rose Council and had every right to speak to Winston—as long as Winston wanted to continue the conversation.

Dammit, why didn’t Marshal Windsor give me orders to keep Winston the hell away from D’Arcy?

He had to smother a smile.  Probably because they want to see if Winston’s got the same calibration on his bullshit meter that we do.

“That’s unfortunate,” D’Arcy was saying.  “We were hoping to be able to send some representatives to Parliament in the future, but it seems like the political climate might be unfavorable.”

Brendan frowned.  “When was that brought up in Council?” he asked.  Lindsay would have mentioned that.  That’s not the kind of thing that’s brought up and then vanishes from the conversation as quickly as it rises.  He crossed his arms.  He’s up to something.  First backing down when Rachel was put forward for Speaker, now this.  He’s up to something and it’s probably not good.  I just wish I knew what it was.

D’Arcy dismissed the question with a wave of his hand.  “It’s been our hope as an organization for some time that our image as isolationist could be somewhat improved.  We are, after all, trying to set an example for how human society can exist in harmony with the planets that house us rather than simply exploit them—and ourselves—to death.”

Winston snorted humorlessly.  “I doubt that approach would earn you many friends in government these days, Councilor Morgause.  The question these days is how to feed everyone without bankrupting corporate structures and how to manipulate the tax codes to benefit the largest congloms, not sunshine and rainbows and how to save our planets.”

Winston caught Brendan’s gaze with the corner of his eye.  The Inspector was starting to look vaguely uncomfortable, though he schooled his expression into one of careful, vaguely disinterested but polite curiosity.  “Who are your contacts back home these days, Councilor?  I can’t imagine that cultivating resources like that would be very easy, considering how far out you are and how rarely people from the colony leave to go traveling the Commonwealth, especially given the apparent hostility some of the congloms feel toward you people.”

“Oh, just some old school friends,” D’Arcy said with a faint smile.  “I was educated on New Earth, at Rigel University.  Senator Milligan was still teaching there at the time and he took me under his wing.  We still correspond regularly.  His daughter is hoping to visit soon.”

Brendan stared at D’Arcy.  The way he talked about the senator’s daughter visiting tripped a synapse in his brain that sent alarm bells echoing through his skull but didn’t quite trigger anything else—though he did catch the barest fleeting glimpse of a slender woman with black hair and a big smile hanging on D’Arcy’s arm.  “It sounds like you’re very much looking forward to that eventuality, D’Arcy,” he said, trying to keep his tone even.

D’Arcy smiled broadly.  “Oh, I am, Commander Cho.  Believe me, I am.  I would welcome the opportunity to show more citizens of the Commonwealth how well we’re doing here.  It can only help us with the troubles that we’re facing, don’t you think?”  His gaze flicked toward Winston.  “Don’t you think so, too, Inspector?”

“If you’re talking about the external threats the Foundation and the colony are currently facing from unknown entities, you could be correct.  Swaying public opinion in your favor could help.”  Winston paused, clearly choosing his words carefully before he continued.  “But at the same time, considering how unknown and possibly widespread the threat to you may be, it could be that all your efforts will do is fuel the fire of resentment, and we all know where that leads.”

“Violence, hate, and war,” Brendan said softly.

The inspector nodded.  “Exactly.  I would tread lightly, Councilor.  These are dangerous times, as we’re learning more and more each day.  One misstep could spell a lot of trouble for more than just the Foundation—violent trouble and worse.”  He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled softly.  “Welcome to the flashpoint,” he murmured, as if he was momentarily unaware that he wasn’t alone.

Brendan touched his arm.  “Inspector, I believe we were headed up to the base so you could see the CAP launch?”

Winston opened his eyes and smiled.  “We were, weren’t we?  And then perhaps you could show me a decent place to get some breakfast?”

Brendan nodded.  “I’d be more than happy to do that.”  He glanced toward D’Arcy.  “Have a pleasant morning, D’Arcy.”

The smile that D’Arcy gave him was razor blades and ice.  “You as well, Commander.  My best to your wife.”

The way he said it made Brendan shiver.  His feeling of unease didn’t go away until he and Winston were halfway to base and D’Arcy had long ago passed from his sight.

Winston’s lips thinned.  E-557 and the Foundation really are the major target, aren’t they?  It’s the same as it’s always been.  Someone wants to get rid of the people who want to change the rules to benefit the whole of humanity.  His gaze drifted back to the water.  Is this why you sent me, Inspector Damerian?  So someone else would see what you already knew?

“There’s another base on the other side of the ocean,” Brendan said.  “About two hundred thousand people out there, too.”  He crossed his arms.  “There are a lot of people depending on a very small military force to protect them.”

“High stakes,” Winston murmured, suddenly feeling out of his depth.  Inspector, where did you send me?  Why the hell am I here?  Why me?

Because she couldn’t come herself.  That’s why.

“They always have been,” Brendan said.  “They always are when it’s the fate of worlds and species at stake.”

“Of course,” Winston murmured.  “Of course.”

•           •           •

“Something tells me that I’m not supposed to be in here,” Padraig hissed as he followed Sephora down the narrow access corridor.  “Though that might have been the passcode and the authorized personnel only sign giving me that impression.”

“I’m the Inspector General,” Sephora said.  “I can bring anyone I want down here and right now, you need to see what I’ve found.”

Padraig frowned slightly, but kept close to Sephora as she shouldered open one of the doors that lined the narrow hall.  “What is this, anyway?  Some kind of archive?”

“Something like that,” Sephora said.  “This is where the Inspector General’s office buries our dead.”

Padraig looked at her sharply and she gave a weak little laugh.

“Not literally, but this is where we file away things—files and evidence from investigations that are closed, files that may never be fully concluded, evidence that’s too dangerous to leave in another storage area, personal effects that have never been claimed, that kind of thing.”  She sobered.  “The contents of Frederick’s desk and locker are down here, among other things of his.”

“Research?” Padraig guessed.

“That too.”  Sephora snapped on the light and led him back through a warren of shelving units.  “Almost no one comes down here.  I can tell who the great ones will be by paying attention to who does.”

“Winston came down here, then?”
“All the time,” Sephora said.  “He reminds me of Frederick in some ways.  I hope he doesn’t suffer the same fate, but I’m afraid that I’ve sent him to just that.”

Padraig squeezed her shoulder briefly and she shot him a weak, wry smile.

“Thanks, Padraig.”

“Anytime,” he said softly.  “How have your staff been faring?”

“Tia and Leon booked passage off-world.  Karen is hoping to stick it out a little bit longer and I was able to get Victor and Zeke reassigned to postings off-world, closer to the fringes where I’m hoping they’ll be all right.”  Sephora shook her head slightly, leading him into a quiet rear corner of the storage area where the boxes from Frederick’s desk and locker were secreted away, along with the green suitcase that he’d inexplicably left behind on his last trip off-world.  “What about yours?”

“Miriam has been doing a bang-up job of getting everything pulled together,” Padraig said.  “She volunteered for the job.  I want her to go with them, but I don’t think she’ll do it.  I might have to find a way to trick her into going.”  He smiled wryly.  “I’d hate to lose her, but I’d also feel better if she was off-world and safe.”

“As if anywhere is going to be safe, my friend.”  Sephora forced a smile and squeezed his arm.  “Not with you getting ready to rock the boat.  When do you appear before the committee?”

“I blow the whistle in three days,” Padraig said.  “All hell breaks loose after that.”

She nodded.  “More than likely.”  She knelt down amidst the boxes, next to the suitcase.  “I found something you need to see before you go before that committee.”

Padraig frowned, nodding slightly and sinking down to his knees nearby.  “What is it?”

“What got Frederick killed,” she said, her throat suddenly tight.  “And the breadcrumbs that lead toward who had him killed.”

“You’ve figured it out?”

She felt sick.  “I have my suspicions, anyway.  I’m not quite at the point where I’m ready to start making accusations, but that moment is coming and coming fast.”  The minute I come out regarding what I’ve learned, it puts everyone I’ve ever cared about at risk—regardless of the distance they’ve put between themselves and I over the years.  She cracked open the suitcase, where she’d secreted away the most important pieces of evidence she’d uncovered.  “I’ve been spending a lot of time down here, working on unraveling the clues he left me.”

“Frederick?”

She nodded.  “Yeah.  I found a holovid that he left for me a few weeks ago.  That’s why I sent Tim Winston out there.  It’s why I’m worried now.”

“What did he…”  Padraig’s voice trailed away and then he started again.  “Seph, what did he have to tell you?”

She choked back a laugh.  “He gave me the warning that you reiterated.  Something’s rotten in the Commonwealth and I’m starting to see exactly where all the worst places are.”

She lifted a palmtop computer out of the suitcase and balanced it on a corner of it, tapping a few keys.  “Have a look at that.”

“What am I looking at?”  Padraig asked quietly as he peered at the palmtop, starting to slowly scroll through the data that had consumed her for the past few weeks.

“The truth,” Sephora whispered.  “God help me, god help us all, you’re looking at the truth.”

“This looks like a lot of who was trying to buy who back in—wait a second.”  Padraig’s brows knit and he leaned a little closer.  “Senator Milligan.”

Sephora closed her eyes and nodded.

“He’s still in the legislature,” Padraig said.  “I voted for him once.”

“A lot of people did,” Sephora said quietly.  “But he’s done a lot of things that aren’t necessarily on the level.  Look at how many people he’s tried to buy.”

“More than some of the congloms, based on this,” Padraig murmured, the glow of the palmtop lighting his face.  His gaze flicked toward her.  “Seph, how long have you known?”
“Only since I found the suitcase,” she said.  “Ever since I found Frederick’s message to me and I realized that I’d fucking abandoned my promise to him to figure out what happened to him and why.”

“Seph—”

“Don’t try to tell me I couldn’t pursue it, Padraig.”  She shook her head, staring blankly at the shelves that sheltered them from the rest of the world.  “I should have.  I didn’t.  That was a choice that I made and it’s a choice I regret.

“It’s one I never should have made and now humanity’s going to pay the price.”

We see the world in ways we wish to see it until some great calamity opens our eyes to the truth behind the illusion.

— attributed to Erich Quizibian

 17 Decem, 5249 PD

Winston stood at the edge of the rocky beach, staring out at the shallow bay.  The sun was rising, painting the sky pink and gold, sunlight sparkling on the water.  The sight was almost enough to take his breath away.  It was hard to find vistas like this back home.

If I needed one shred of proof that these people are doing something right, it’s staring me right in the face right now.

“Enjoying the view?”

Winston stiffened slightly and turned toward Brendan Cho’s voice.  His brows knit slightly as he studied the pilot, garbed in his undress uniform, as if he was on his way to the base and stumbled upon Winston purely by accident.

That’s probably what he wants it to look like, anyway.  Winston nodded slowly.  “I haven’t seen anything like it back home.  It’s beautiful.”

Brendan nodded slowly, wandering down the path and onto the gravel that ended where the sand of the beach began.  “Lindsay and I used to come down here when we were teenagers to watch the sun come up.”  A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  “We weren’t like most teenagers.  She could never sleep because of the nightmares, I couldn’t sleep because I’d never been allowed to sleep past 0430 since I was eight.”

“You two grew up together, then?”  Winston crossed his arms against the chill coming off the water.  “I’m surprised.”

“Why’s that?”  Brendan asked as he drew abreast of him, staring out at the water with an almost wistful expression.

“I just didn’t think you’d been here for that long.  Not long enough to grow up with her.”

“We were teenagers together,” Brendan said quietly.  “I didn’t say we’d grown up together.  You did.”  He jerked his chin toward the water.  “I crashed there.  I was piloting a Corp dropship and we came down hard, cartwheeled through the bay until we stopped in the shallows.  That was the first time I ever stabbed myself in the implant.”

Winston blinked at him.  “You what?”

Brendan shrugged slightly.  “It was either that or die.  It wasn’t really a choice.”  His gaze grew distant for a moment.  “I was the only one that survived.  I wouldn’t have if Lindsay hadn’t kept Alana from killing me off.”

Winston whistled low.  That’s certainly not what I expected.

Brendan shrugged again.  “That’s life,” he said softly.  “A series of events that you can’t predict until they happen.”  He looked at Winston.  “Did you ever imagine you’d end up here?”

“Not in my wildest dreams,” Winston said.  “Just meeting Frederick Rose alone…”  He shook his head.  “I never would have imagined that he could somehow be alive and in hiding out there.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by it, but I am.”  He studied the pilot sidelong.  “Shouldn’t you be reporting for duty?”

“I’m already on duty,” Brendan said with a faint, wry smile.  “Ezra hasn’t cleared me for flight status and my students are going up on practice runs today.  One of my colleagues is leading the squadron, which frees me up for special duties.”

The plot thickens.  “Like shadowing me,” Winston guessed.

“I believe the term ‘babysit’ came up in the briefing.”  His grin broadened out and Winston couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because someone with your skillset shouldn’t be,” Brendan said.  “And even if you are, you shouldn’t admit to it.”

“Well put,” Winston said, still staring at the water.  “You’re correct in that assessment, I’m afraid.”

“It is as it is,” Brendan said.  “Was there anything in particular you wanted to see?”

“You mean other than more evidence regarding what happened at the Whispers?”  Winston smiled humorlessly.  His meeting with the Marshals and representatives of the Council had raised more questions than it had answered.  “I’m not sure what to tell you, Commander.”

“You’ll see what there is to see at the Whispers soon enough,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.  “The footage and everything else.  There’s rumblings of sending investigators of our own.”  His gaze slanted toward Winston.  “We want to know who killed it, too, Inspector.”

“Because you’re probably the real target.”

Brendan inclined his head.  “You said it.  I didn’t.”

“What the hell do you need her for?”  Ezra crossed his arms.  “She’s done enough for everyone already.  No one’s got any right to demand anything of her now.”  Even if it’s you.  Even if you gave up your freedom so she could escape—she’s more than paid you back for that with everything she’s done here.

Grant took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.  “I know.  I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary.”

“What the hell is so necessary that you’d ask a hurt and sick woman to…to…”  Ezra’s voice trailed away and his eyes narrowed.  “What the hell is this all about, Commander?”

“I need her to go and retrieve something for me.  Something for all of us.”  Grant’s lips thinned.  “It has to do with the database from Mimir.”

Ezra swallowed bile.  “What about it?”

“There’s something on Catullus III that relates to it,” Grant said.  “I—we—need her to go and get it.”  He glanced sidelong at Ezra and probably didn’t like the look he was getting, because he rushed on.  “It’s a simple, safe run.  Take the bank deposit key, go to Catullus III, and take the contents of the deposit box and bring it back here.  Easy.”

“But you’re asking for Alana,” Ezra said, his voice flat and his stomach unsettled.  “There has to be more to it than just that if you want her.”

“Adam can’t spare anyone,” Grant said.  “So I thought of Alana.”

“Right,” Ezra said, staring out at the trees that lined the trail from his cottage down toward the beach.  Of course he’d think of Alana.  Probably because he knew she wouldn’t say no if he asked her, because she wouldn’t.  As much as she says she’s free and unfettered and can live her own life now, if Lindsay or Grant asked her to do something, to be somewhere, she’d do it and be there in a heartbeat.  There isn’t any question in that—no doubt.  His lips thinned.  “She can’t handle that right now,” he said quietly, half to himself.  “She can’t do it.  It’ll be weeks before she could even think about it.”

“It could have a grave impact on our survival, Dr. Grace.”

He shot Grant a withering look.  “Everything these days seems to have a grave impact on our survival, Commander.  Trust me, I know—that’s why I came up with the crazy scheme to rescue you and your wife.  That was a matter of our survival, too.”

Grant sighed softly and shook his head.  “We need her to do this, Doctor.  I need her to do this because I can’t do it myself.”

Ezra shook his head.  “I don’t see anyone or anything stopping you, Commander.  Who’s going to tell you that you’re not allowed to go to Catullus III?”

“I’m persona non grata in Icarus Munitions territory,” Grant said.  “I can’t go.  I’ll end up arrested and they’d be right to do it.”

How the hell does a commander in Mimir’s armed forces end up persona non grata to one of the few congloms willing to supply the Psychean Guard is the armaments they needed for their military forces?  “What?”

The older man heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head slowly.  “It’s a long, sordid story.  The short version is that I was a pacifist when I was a teenager—something that my father didn’t have the heart to quash until I started to get into trouble.  However, I was the kind of pacifist that decided that blowing up munitions depots and making threats of violence against suppliers was a really smart idea.  Dad managed to cover it up, but it wasn’t easy and Icarus Munitions never forgot about it.”

“So I’m guessing you’re not the one who hid anything there.”

Grant choked on a laugh.  “No.  My gut says that was Adam’s bright idea, since he’s always maintained very positive relations with them.  I could be wrong.  It could have been Freder or Daci.”

Ezra took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.  “I don’t understand all of you,” he said, almost without meaning to.  “I don’t understand how you all knew to take apart that database and hide it all over the galaxy and hide keys to access it—to find it—all over the place, too.  How did you see all of it coming?”

“Rachel saw it coming,” Grant said simply.  “She saw the patterns before any of us did, though I guess maybe Freder and Adam saw, too.  We made some decisions.  We reacted when the bombs started to fall.”  His eyes drifted closed for a moment.  “Understand, Dr. Grace, that we were all in positions where we could take action but when the moment came, by the time we recognized it, it was almost too late.”

“Is that why you and America stayed and the others got away?”

Grant sighed, staring at the sky.  “Frederick tried to come back.  I told him to get the hell off Mimir and stay away—he was our best hope at justice.  It’s a shame we never got it.”  He exhaled through his teeth and shook his head.  “We sent Rachel away with Lindsay and Adam.  Aidan managed to get away first, paved the way for everyone else.  By rights, maybe he should have stayed.  Maybe he would have been able to slide under their radar and lead resistance for longer.

“In the end, all it did was buy us time, but it was enough time.  We salvaged what we could.  The Commonwealth and the congloms never knew.  Everyone else who’s ever known is dead.  It’s just us.”

“And now all of us you’ve told here,” Ezra said quietly.

Grant nodded slowly.  “And the fewer here who know, the safer everyone is—at least until it’s too late to stop us from assembling the database again.”

Ezra exhaled.  I must be out of my mind.  “I can’t let you ask Alana to do this.”

“You said that already.”

“I know.  I’m just saying it again.”  He looked at the older man in the dim.  “I’ll go instead.”

She’s going to kill me, but what other choice is there?  None, that’s it.

“Just tell me where to go,” Ezra said, “who to see, what to do, and I’ll do it.  Just leave her alone.”

Grant stared at him for a moment.  “Done.”

Something every good politician and soldier learns is the end-run maneuver—you find a way to get what you want by going about it in the most unexpected ways.

— Sarah Farragut, circa 4869 PD

 17 Decem, 5249 PD

It was just past dawn and someone was pounding on his door.  Despite all the oaths he swore when he became a doctor, Ezra was deeply tempted to say to hell with whoever was outside and stay right where he was.

Alana was stretched out in bed with him, his body cupping hers, his front to her back.  She was fast asleep, her breathing soft and rhythmic.  Her fever had begun to fade with the judicious application of antibiotics and after Lindsay had coaxed her into taking her pain medication, she’d been much more comfortable, too.  Shortly after Brendan and Lindsay had left, Ezra and Alana had crawled into bed together and he wasn’t exactly inclined to move just yet.

But there was someone at the damned door and they weren’t going away.

Alana stirred and he winced.  He kissed her neck and willed her to keep on sleeping as he eased out from under the covers and yanked on a pair of pants.  Stumbling in the early morning dim and rubbing at his eyes, he made his way to the front door and yanked it open with as much ferocity as he could muster at just past six in the morning.

Grant Channing stood outside his door, one brow climbing slowly higher as he regarded Ezra with a curious, puzzled look.

“Well,” he said.  “It took you long enough.  Did I wake you from a dead sleep?”

“Yes,” Ezra lied.  “What brings you here this early in the morning, Commander?  Everyone okay up at the house?”  As his annoyance started to wear away and the last vestiges of sleep dissipated, thoughts of what might have brought Grant to his front door at this time of morning flashed through his mind.  It could be any number of things, considering the number of people living in Rachel’s cottage these days.

Something happen to Frederick, maybe?  America come down sick?  Marshal Windsor or Marshal Rose get into some kind of accident?

“Everyone’s fine,” he said.  “I actually came to talk to Alana.  Is she here?”

“She’s asleep,” Ezra said, crossing his arms.  “And I’m not of any mind to wake her right now.  Is something wrong?”

Grant hesitated for a moment, his brows knitting.  He stepped back off the porch, staring at the sky, at the clouds that drifted against the gold and blue of the sunrise.  “Will you walk with me?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

What’s this all about?  Ezra frowned.  “Let me put on a shirt and some shoes.”

Grant laughed weakly.  “Of course.  Go get dressed.  I’ll wait.”

Ezra nodded slowly, eyeing the older man for a moment before he stepped back into the house.  He headed back into the bedroom, digging out a clean shirt and a pair of shoes and socks.  Alana stirred as he sat down to tug the socks on.

“What’s the matter?” she murmured sleepily.

“Nothing.”  He leaned back and brushed his fingertips along the side of her face with a faint smile.  The fever had gone down even more than he’d hoped.  “Go back to sleep.  I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Mm.”  She snuggled deeper into the blankets.  “You promise?”

“Of course,” he said softly.  He kissed her temple and finished tugging on his socks.

Ezra tucked the covers around her as he got up to leave, pausing just a moment longer to brush hair back from her face.  He could almost see her smile in the darkness and smiled himself even as his heart gave a painful squeeze.

I could have lost her.

But you didn’t.  She’s still here with you, and here she’s going to stay.

“Hurry back,” she murmured as he retreated from the room.

“I will,” he said softly and shut the door behind him.

Grant was still waiting outside on the path, still staring at the sky as the sun crept higher.

“All right,” Ezra said as he shut the door and stepped off the porch and onto the gravel pathway.  “What did you need to talk about?”

“Let’s walk a little way,” Grant said.  “It’ll be easier if we’re walking.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?  All Ezra could do was nod.

They’d reached the end of the path and turned toward the track that led toward the water before Grant shoved his hands into the pockets of his lightweight jacket and started to talk.

“I hate to ask it, but there’s a favor I need.”

“What is it?”  Ezra asked, brows knitting.

“I need Alana Chase.”

Some secrets are buried for the good of all.  Others are meant to be rediscovered when the need is dire and the time is right.

— Erich Quizibian, c. 5067 PD

 16 Decem, 5249 PD

“He’s with us,” Rachel said, crossing her arms. “That’s something, right?”

Frederick nodded slightly.  “It certainly is.  We’ll have to leverage it for all it’s worth, though, and at this point I’m not sure how much that will be.”  The former Commonwealth inspector frowned and shook his head.  “It’s all in worse shape than I imagined.”

“How’s that?”  Grant asked, turning away from the windows and toward his old friend.  “How is it worse?”

Frederick exhaled, rubbing his forehead.  “I somehow wanted to believe that things would get better, that the Inspector General’s office and the Commonwealth government would see sense and start to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves—that the regulations that bind the congloms would somehow be better enforced.

“I was wrong.  I suppose I always knew I was wrong, but I held out hope.  Now it’s completely in my face and it’s disheartening.”  His lips thinned.  “While he—and Sephora—are on our side, how can we know that they’ll find support back at the heart of the Commonwealth?”

“We can’t,” Rachel said.  “We’re on our own.  We’ve always been on our own.”

“Truth,” Frederick said softy.  “I suppose I never wanted to believe it.”  His gaze slid toward Grant.  “You’re right,” he said after a moment.  “It’s time to start reassembling the database.  It may already be too late.”

Grant frowned, leaning back in his chair.  “How many of the components have already made it here?”

“Six of the nine,” Adam said, joining the conversation without looking up from the reports spread across the kitchen table in front of him.  “Two are on base, one’s hidden at one of our other bases, and three are hidden elsewhere on private property.”

“That leaves three unaccounted for,” Grant said.  “Which ones?”

“Blue, Infrared, and Green.”  Adam glanced up for a moment.  “I have Red and Ultraviolet on base here.  Purple’s on the other coast.”  His eyes drifted back to his reports.  “And looking at the strength reports, I’m not sure I’ve got anyone I can spare right now to send after the other three.”

“Where did we hide those ones?”  Frederick asked, brow arching.

“Infrared’s still on Mimir.”  Adam exhaled a sigh.  “We couldn’t get it out.  Aidan’s the only one who knows where Blue is.  Green is on Catullus III in a vault.”

“Why the hell did we leave one on Catullus III?”  Grant asked, blinking.  Rachel snorted.

“Because we gave it to Adam to hide.  He took it with him when he was doing some final negotiations for weapons systems with Icarus Munitions.”  She leaned against the back of her husband’s chair, running her palm across his shoulders.  “What’s our disposition with Icarus these days?”

“Dara Verrit is on the board these days.  I think we’re all right.”  Adam’s brow wrinkled slightly as he looked up again.  “But we won’t know until someone goes there and tries to use our deposit key to get what we left in their bank out again.”

“And we don’t have anyone to spare, you said,” Frederick said.

“We don’t.”  Adam looked back down at the reports.  “We’re already short bodies to defend this planet.  We’re trying to find a way to delicately ask for volunteers without sounding desperate and without things sounding dire.”

“But they are dire,” Rachel said softly.

“Of course they are.”  Adam leaned back in his chair, massaging his brow.  “But that’s the one thing we don’t want to let on to, isn’t it?”

“What about Alana?”  Grant asked.  “She’s technically retired.”

“She’s a mess,” Adam countered, shaking his head.  “Has she even turned up again?”

Rachel nodded.  “I saw her come back into town with her camping gear when I was on my way home.  I’m not sure what kind of shape she’s in, though—you never know with her.”

“She’s a mess,” Adam repeated.  “And she will be until that arm heals.  I’m not going to ask her to go anywhere until that happens.  It’s too dangerous for her and it’s too damned dangerous for us.”  His gaze flicked toward Grant.  “I’m surprised you suggested it.  She’s your niece.”

Grant closed his eyes.  “By all accounts, she’s extremely good at what she does.  I imagine she’ll be just as unstoppable as she was before once her arm heals.”  He shook his head, crossing his arms and turning back toward the windows.  “We have to reassemble the database.”

“You say that like you know something that we don’t, Grant,” Frederick said.  He leaned back in his chair, studying his friend’s profile, half in shadow, half illuminated by the afternoon sunshine.  “I think you know that there’s something in the database that will give us an edge in the war that’s coming.  Going to share what it is?”

Grant’s lips twisted into a wry smile.  “Other than the tactics of three or four thousand years of human warfare?  One or two things.  A map or three to buried treasure.”

“Buried treasure,” Rachel echoed, her tone flat and disbelieving.  “Did I actually just hear you say that, Grant?”

“Hear me out,” he said.  “There are things that the Foundation and the Guard hid away just like we hid the database.  Clues to how to find all of that are in the database if you know where to look and what they hid could save us all.”

“As in all of humanity,” Rachel said, her tone still disbelieving.

“That’s what your sister and I always believed, yes,” Grant said quietly, making eye contact with his sister-in-law.  “I don’t expect you to agree since you’ve never seen the evidence.  But I hope you won’t stand in our way.”

Rachel exhaled.  “It might be a moot point, Grant.  We don’t have anyone to spare.  We don’t have anyone to send.”

“Except Alana.”

“You’re not sending her without her consent,” Rachel said, striding toward him, shoulders square and expression like a thundercloud.  “And I’m not going to let you guilt her into going, either.  She’s paid her debt to you and everyone else, Grant.  Let her live her life and make her own choices.  You gave her that after she brought you home.  Let her have her life.”

His expression grew hard and cold, jaw tight and eyes narrowing.  “I have no intention of using guilt to make her do anything, Rachel,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.  “She’ll make her choice on the merits of the choice.  She doesn’t have to do anything.”

“But he knows that she will if he asks,” Adam said quietly.  “Because that’s Alana—that’s how she is.  He knows that all he has to do is ask and she’ll do it and damn the consequences.”

“Damn the consequences, though they may be dire,” Frederick said, staring at his hands.  “You’ll have to hope that she’s up to the challenge, old friend—and that she doesn’t decide that whatever time that’s given to her with Ezra Grace is more than enough to make her happy for the rest of her life—however long or short that may be.”

“What do you mean?”  Grant asked.

Frederick shook his head.  “She’s in love, my friend, and he loves her back.  She may decide that the risk isn’t worth it.  She might tell you to go take a hike.”

“She won’t,” Adam said.  “Trust me.  She won’t, no matter how much both she and Dr. Grace may want her to.  She’s duty-bound, regardless of what she personally wants—and whether or not she’s already paid her debts to all of us.”

“You can’t be the one to ask her,” Rachel said, glaring at Grant.  “It has to be someone else.”

Grant just stared at all three of them for a long moment.

Then he turned and walked away, out the door and out of sight.

“I was a foolish child,” Amanda said.  “But I’ve become even more foolish as an adult.  Having a piss-poor childhood can do that to you.”

— Willow McLeod, Beyond Lies

 16 Decem, 5249 PD

“Where have you been?”

Alana froze in midstep, brows knitting briefly.  “The forest.  I needed time to clear my head.”

“I was worried.”  Ezra stared at her from an easy chair with a good view of his front door.  He was sitting in the dark, alone.

“You shouldn’t have been,” she said without thinking.  “I was only gone for a couple days.”        Her throat tightened.  He shouldn’t have worried.  Two days was nothing.

So why was there a lump in her throat and why were her eyes stinging?

“A couple of days,” he echoed.  He got up from his chair and came to her as she let the door fall shut behind her, sealing out the dim of twilight and leaving them in darkness.  His fingers were warm as they brushed her bare shoulders.  “You disappeared for a couple of days after unleashing the rough side of your tongue on a Commonwealth Inspector.  You didn’t say anything to anyone.  You left your meds on the counter and I couldn’t tell if you’d actually come back here before you just vanished.  I had no idea what to think, ‘Lana.”

“Ezra,” she stopped and gentled her tone, then started again.  “I just needed some space.  I snagged my camping kit and just…went.  I didn’t realize it’d upset you like this.”

“I’ve been worried half to death,” he said, then sighed, one hand trailing down her bad arm, still cradled in the sling.  “You must be in agony,” he murmured.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted.  It was worse than that, but she wasn’t willing to admit it yet.  If she did, he’d just give her medicine and put her to bed.  She wasn’t ready for that yet.  She wanted to lean into his chest and be held, but she didn’t allow herself that luxury.

Not yet.

“I overreacted,” she said without preamble.  “I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

“I forgive you.”

She felt his palm brush her cheek and sighed, leaning into the touch.  She had gone too many years without gentleness, without warmth and comfort in someone’s touch.  Every second he was with her eased that ache inside, filled in a little more of the gaping hole.

“‘Lana,” he began.  She shook her head.

“No, Ezra, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for bursting in there like some kind beast and I’m sorry for disappearing after.  It’s a lot to take.  I stood for it for so many years, kept my mouth shut for so long…it’s hard.  I’ve always known that the Commonwealth stood by while people suffered.  It’s just that sometimes, being here, I’ve been able to forget.  At least for a little while.”

She shivered as his arms closed around her, gentle and firm all at once.

“It all turned out for the best,” he murmured into her hair.  “That’s all that you need to worry about.”

“So I didn’t cause some kind of incident, then?”

“We think too quickly,” Ezra said.  “Though you need to thank everyone who was in that room and your lucky stars that the Inspector wasn’t offended.”

Alana nodded, resting her head in the crook where his neck met his collarbone and letting her eyes slide shut.  Her foray into the woods had given her time and space to think, but it had been more lonely than she’d ever recalled it being in the past.

It’s because you’ve finally let someone other than Rachel and Lindsay inside your guard.

Guard?  What guard?  The walls are down—and those that aren’t are already falling to pieces.

“Good,” she murmured after a few silent moments.  “I’m glad.”

He held her a little longer before his arms loosened.  “You’re shaking, ‘Lana.”  The doctor pressed his hand to her forehead.  It was blessedly cool.  She could almost see his face in the dim, his brows knitting in concern, a frown touching his lips.  “And you’ve got a fever.”

“I’m fine,” she said softly.

“You’re not.”

She began to protest again, but her knees buckled and the words wouldn’t come.  The last thing she was conscious of was him sweeping her into his arms and cradling her like a child before blackness overwhelmed her.

•           •           •

“You sounded upset,” Lindsay said as she and Brendan crowded in through Ezra’s front door.  “What’s the matter?”

Ezra looked like hell, shoulders stooped and deep shadows under his eyes.  It was as if he hadn’t slept since the meeting with Inspector Winston.

He probably hasn’t, Lindsay thought.  No one’s seen Alana since then.

“Something happen with Alana?”  Brendan asked, pushing the door shut behind them.

“She’s sick,” Ezra said flatly, turning away from them and heading back into his kitchen.  “She came home today—this evening—and said she was sorry.”  He raked his hands back through his hair and exhaled heavily.  “She didn’t take any of her meds with her when she went out into the woods to do god knows what.  I’m worried.”

“Of course you’re worried,” Lindsay said, putting her hand on his arm.  “You love her.”

“Yeah,” Ezra said, looking away.  Lindsay squeezed his arm, then looked at Brendan.

He smiled wryly.  “You don’t have to say it.  I’ll feed him.  Go look in on her and see what’s got him all knotted up.”

“Some of the incisions are inflamed,” Ezra said as he slumped into a chair at Brendan’s urging.  “I’m worried they’re infected.”

“They might not be,” Lindsay said as her stomach dropped.

Alana knew the risks when she started on this path.  This was her choice—this was everyone’s choice for her.  But she finally decided to do it.

“I hope not,” Ezra mumbled, burying his face in his hands.  Lindsay looked at Brendan, their eyes meeting.  Brendan grimaced shaking his head and nodding toward the door.

Lindsay sucked in a deep breath and ducked out, down the hall toward Ezra’s bedroom.  It wasn’t hard to imagine that Alana would be there, not the way she and Ezra had been acting recently.

The lights in the bedroom were dimmed, though not turned off, and Alana lay on one side of the bed, tucked securely in with her bad arm lying swaddled in bandages above the covers.  She was pale and a half-dried cloth lay across her forehead, probably once soaked in cool water to help her fever.

Sometimes, the oldest techniques are the best.  Lindsay sat down on the edge of the bed, finding her cousin’s other hand and squeezing her fingers gently.  Alana stirred, shifting in the bed before her eyes cracked open.

“Lindsay?  Where’s Ezra?”

“Brendan’s making him eat something,” Lindsay said.  “You’re running a fever.”  She moved the cloth and pressed the back of her hand against her cousin’s face.  It was hot, but not as hot as she’d feared from the look on Ezra’s face.

“I’m fine,” Alana murmured, shifting in the bed.  She hissed in pain and went pale as she tried to move her bad arm.  “Okay, maybe almost fine.  That hurt.”

“Considering all the work that he did?  I’m not surprised.”  Lindsay shook her head.  “What were you thinking, ‘Lana?  You had to know he’d worry.  And you left your meds here.”

“I took the antibiotics with me,” she said, her voice distant.  “I’ve been carrying those with me.  I just left the pain medication on the counter.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t think I’d need them,” Alana said softly.  “Do you think that they gave me drugs when they put that cyberware in?  They didn’t, not really.  They gave me what they needed to so I’d keep quiet and then they gave me enough so I’d be able to move—nothing more.  The pain…Lin, I can’t even tell you how much it hurt.”

“Worse than now?”  Lindsay asked softly.

Alana squeezed her eyes shut.  Lindsay could see tears rimming her eyes, caught in her lashes.  “Yeah,” she whispered.  “Though not by much.”  Her fingers tightened slightly.  “Am I being some kind of idiot, Lindsay?”

“Do you want the truth?”

Alana nodded.  “Yeah.”

“You’re absolutely being an idiot,” Lindsay said, then smiled wryly.  “But at least your lover’s a doctor.  He’ll put it all to rights again once Brendan’s got him calmed down.”

“Have I screwed things up?”

“Probably not that badly,” Lindsay assured her.  “Don’t worry.  He loves you.  He won’t stay angry—he’ll worry and watch you like a hawk, but he’ll forgive you.  Trust me.”

“I hope you’re right,” Alana said in a distant whisper, her eyes sliding shut again.  “I hope you’re right.”