The Diamond Dust’s thrusters roared as they burst to life, and Aryn’s heart felt a little lighter as the ship surged upward, away from the landing platform and up towards the dying sun of Ilior. But they were not free yet, and he couldn’t breathe completely clearly. ‘Do you think they’ll follow?’

Cassidy leaned over the hologram at the helm controls, face like granite. ‘Their leader just blew up. Whether they knew she was a Changeling or not – or even if they just found out – that’s gonna be a setback. The only good news is this makes it less likely she’s got a trusted lieutenant to pick up the pieces.’

Q’ira was hunched up in the command chair, knees under her chin. Glamour and confidence had given her an aura and presence, but now she looked small and scared, ordinary. ‘I thought they were gone,’ she whispered. ‘I know it came out they were back, but they were meant to be gone again.’

‘Yeah,’ said Cassidy, jaw tight, eyes on the canopy as the Dust rose higher and higher. ‘They were.’ At last, he turned to Aryn, looking him up and down. ‘You better get that thing safe.’

The Regulator had felt heavy in his arms when he’d first lifted it. But since then, his grip on the device had been so iron-tight he’d not dared even think about letting it go, and it felt now as if it were fused into him. Aryn stared down at it and blinked. ‘It’s safe here,’ he said after a beat.

Tiran, still holding the towel she’d dried herself with the moment they boarded, turned. ‘I can take it to one of the lockers, secure it -’

‘No,’ Aryn blurted. ‘And that’s no disrespect to you, Q’ira. I just… I’ve got it. It’s okay.’ He wasn’t sure why that instinct kicked in, but they were already aboard the Dust. A locker wasn’t going to keep it safer, and if they were followed, boarded, he wanted to have the device close to hand if he was going to protect it.

‘This is so fucked,’ said Nallera after a beat. The deck of the Dust was starting to rumble less, the atmospheric turbulence fading as they rose higher and higher. ‘I thought we were dealing with a crime lord. Not a fucking Changeling.’

‘They ran,’ Cassidy surmised, running a hand through his hair as he turned back to them. ‘They got beat at Frontier Day, then we uprooted them, so they ran to the fringes. Probably spent a load of the last twenty years infiltrating here, anyway.’

Tiran’s brow furrowed. ‘Do you think there could be more of them?’

‘That’d be just our luck,’ grumbled Nallera. ‘Us finding the only Changeling left running around the galaxy? What would they want with that thing, anyway?’ She waved a hand at Aryn and the device.

‘Maybe it really did intend on selling it to Klingons,’ said Aryn with a shrug. ‘They could make a fortune with that.’

‘It already had a fortune,’ Cassidy pointed out. ‘Regardless, it’s dead. We gotta get back to Kalviris, drop off the Dust and the girl. Then rendezvous with the Blackbird and we’re done.’

‘We’re done when we hand that over,’ Tiran said, nodding at the device again.

Q’ira, who hadn’t reacted to Cassidy’s near-dismissal as he referred to her as ‘the girl,’ raised her head an inch. ‘It won’t be a long trip back to Kalviris,’ she said quietly.

Aryn looked at her – then frowned as he realised something. ‘Where’s Rosewood?’

Cassidy harrumphed. ‘Went to his room. Think the fight took it out of him.’ It was almost surprising to hear no hint of scathing judgement.

Nallera winced. ‘Should someone go see him?’

‘You should get checked out in the medbay,’ said Cassidy, pointing at her. ‘Come on, let’s patch up your ribs.’

Tiran straightened. ‘I’ll get on the comms to the Blackbird. They should still be at SB-38; if they leave now, they can meet us at Kalviris the moment we get there.’

The three left, leaving Aryn stood on the deck beside Q’ira and the holograms, the device still heavy in his arms. He looked down at her, suddenly awkward, the adrenaline wearing off enough to leave him very tired. ‘Are you okay?’ he managed to say at last.

She looked up at him, bright eyes wide, empty, scared. But when she drew a breath, it was as if strength came in, too, and a heartbeat later, she was taller, poised, controlled. ‘I won’t say it’s just a day in the life,’ Q’ira drawled as she gathered herself. ‘But I’ve had worse days.’

Aryn swallowed. ‘I’m not sure I have.’

Rosewood had gone back to his quarters with the intention of drowning himself in the shower to clean off the remains of Changeling covering his clothes and body. Once he’d arrived, though, he’d just sat down on the bed and stared into space. The Dust’s deck had hummed underneath as they’d departed the luxurious moon of Ilior, and through the viewport he could see azure seas and golden skies fading beneath as they rose, rose, rose into darkness.

And still he sat there. And still he stared.

When there was a knock at the door, he jolted upright, and winced as he realised he not only looked a state, but had clearly done nothing about it in the half-hour he’d been shut in here. ‘Who is it?’

‘Tiran.’

That was unexpected. He’d figured literally any of the Rooks, or even Q’ira, would be more likely to see him. It wasn’t that Tiran was uncaring – Cassidy still took the lead on that – but she seemed the most professional, and the least likely to pry. He took a moment to at least grab a towel and wipe his face before he opened the doors.

She stepped in and made sure of privacy before she said a word, her eyes level as she watched him. ‘You didn’t have a single quip to make, which means you’re not okay, and none of the others are remotely capable of helping you.’

He froze, not expecting this sort of frontal assault. But a heartbeat later, his deflectors had risen, and he laughed. ‘And you are?’

‘Maybe not,’ she said with a shrug. ‘But I see your bullshit deflections for what they are. Like that laugh and question. You were nearly ripped limb-from-limb by a Changeling. It’s okay to be terrified. Even in the Rooks.’

Rosewood turned away and tossed the dirty towel to one side. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means I know we put up a facade of being unfazed by anything. You understand that’s a coping mechanism, yes?’

‘Or possibly a sign that Cassidy’s dead inside.’

‘I’m not going to defend Hal to you. Not here and now. But he understands death. They all do. And we don’t think any less of you for blinking when facing it.’

He rounded on her, embers that he’d tried to cover up for months beginning to gleam inside him anew. ‘You thought I froze back there? Panicked? You didn’t see me – that thing bested you -’

‘We put up the facade to get through the crisis,’ Tiran pressed, undaunted. ‘But that facade is useless if you don’t process it after. In whatever way it takes to handle that fear.’

Gleams turned to sparks. ‘I’m not afraid.’

‘You -’

‘It was a fucking Changeling!’ The words exploded from him unbidden, and he jabbed an accusing finger towards the deck, as if he could single out the smears on the pavements of Ilior where the entity that had been called Aestri had been spread. ‘Those – those things infiltrated Starfleet, corrupted our people, set the devil itself on us! I’m not afraid, I’m fucking furious!’

Tiran’s eyes narrowed. As he fell to silence, chest heaving, her head tilted an inch. ‘What did they do?’

‘Were you under a rock this past -’

‘To you, John. What did they do to you?’

As quickly as the flames had been fanned by rage and indignation, helplessness and loss came pouring in like cold water. Rosewood turned away again, stalking to the viewport and peering at the fading upper atmosphere of the moon of Ilior. It would be best to deflect. She could see through it all she liked. That couldn’t force his hand.

‘The official report stated my father was killed on Frontier Day by junior officers aboard Starbase One,’ he found himself saying instead. ‘In actuality, he was found trying to escape Starbase One when the shooting started. Through a vent. Because he was a Changeling. Security killed him – it.’ The words came from deep inside him, thoughts and memories he’d been convinced he’d locked away tightly but now escaped, sliding through the cracks in the vaults of his horror.

‘He was one of the infiltrators,’ Tiran surmised after a beat. Then, ‘Do you know for how long?’

‘No.’ Rosewood’s voice shook and his shoulders hunched. ‘I spoke to him regularly in the months leading up to it. The unit was embroiled in messy politics, politics where I listened to him, took his advice. I stirred up conflict between senior officers because I thought it was the right thing to do, and in part because of him. And I saw him at Christmas. It was nice. I don’t know who the fuck I sat down to dinner with, though.’

‘It could have been months.’ Her voice was hushed, awed. ‘Years?’

‘Yeah.’ Now he turned, sharper. ‘I have no idea when I last saw my father. I assume he’s dead; he wasn’t found with any of the others. If it took his place long enough ago, eventually they’re not going to need the man himself…’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and while he thought she was sincere, he could almost feel himself being managed. The others might have let him deflect, he thought, but it had a higher chance of feeling like a sincere connection. Tiran was here to make sure he wouldn’t be a problem for the unit, and that was it.

And yet, he’d opened up. Explained something to her he’d not revealed to anyone since he’d found out; not his friends, not his colleagues, not even his mother. Rosewood swallowed, and despite himself, felt a little better. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. ‘But that’s why I needed a minute. It wasn’t fear.’

She hesitated. ‘It’s a lot, when something you take so fundamentally for granted – like a parent, like your trust in them – is taken away. It attacks the core of who you are. Finding your balance again afterwards is… it’s difficult.’ Another pause. ‘I recommend not doing it alone.’

‘Sure,’ said Rosewood, feeling his shields raise again despite himself. That was quite enough outreach for one day. ‘But first, I’m gonna have a shower.’

Her lips curled. ‘Doing what you can to feel less like crap is also good. I’ll let you get some rest. Good work today.’

Even with that smattering of human contact, even after unburdening himself of secrets he’d kept locked up so tightly, it took being halfway through drowning himself in the shower before John Rosewood felt like something approaching human again. He wasn’t sure how long it would last.