Aryn’s appetite had imploded, so the noodles were cold and even less inviting by the time he’d finished forcing down the last forkful. Rosewood was still sprawled out on the creaky sofa, Nallera stretched out on the floor beside him, their eyes shut. By the porthole window, Cassidy leaned to look out into the night-clad streets of Kalviris, everything this far down suffused with smog and grease.

‘How long ago do you think it happened?’ said Nallera suddenly, eyes opening. She spoke like the question was natural, likely voicing a silent, internal debate.

‘Since you replicated these noodles?’ Rosewood nudged his half-full bowl aimlessly. ‘About ten thousand years. That’s why they suck.’

‘I mean Jessa.’ Nallera looked up at Cassidy, suddenly small. ‘How long ago do you think she was swapped?’

Cassidy didn’t move, didn’t look at them. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Maybe you never knew the real her,’ mused Rosewood, eyes still shut. ‘Maybe she was always a Changeling -’

Nallera flinched. ‘Shut up.’

‘Isn’t that better, actually? To never have known the real her, so you’ve never actually lost anyone -’

‘It had to happen recently,’ said Aryn, hearing his voice come out mechanically. That made sense; his thoughts felt mechanical. ‘The Blackbird’s transporters should have weeded out Changelings, and she beamed down here with us before we boarded the Dust. Maybe she was replaced on Ilior.’

‘Maybe she’s alive, then,’ said Nallera, brightening. ‘That makes sense, or we’d have found her before -’

‘We don’t know.’ Cassidy didn’t raise his voice, still didn’t move, but his sombre voice was enough to silence them all. ‘We were operating out in the Thomar Expanse on that freighter right after Frontier Day, weren’t we. Two months on a non-Federation ship, without the Changeling-beating upgrades. And no security screening lasts forever. There’s always a way around it. She coulda been a Changeling all along, on a posting right out of the way for long enough that by the time we came back, she’d figured how to beat it.’

Nallera slumped. ‘I don’t know how you’d beat it.’

‘And I don’t know how they fuck up their physiology enough to beat a blood screen,’ Cassidy rumbled, glaring into the streets of Kalviris. ‘But they did.’

Aryn fidgeted with his fork and looked at Rosewood. ‘You knew a Changeling,’ he said, and caught himself as Rosewood flinched. ‘You were on the USS Independence. Commander Vornar was replaced with a Changeling. But he was found afterwards, wasn’t he – on the Intrepid?’

Rosewood sat up at last, exhaustion hanging over him so heavily the fatigue had to come from somewhere deeper than the body. ‘Some of the people impersonated were found in the aftermath, yes. But I’ve not heard of anyone recovered since the end of May. Odds are good that if you weren’t found by then, you’re dead.’

Nallera shook her head, then looked up at Cassidy. ‘But how could we not know? You knew Jessa since the 80s – how could something impersonate her for maybe months and we didn’t -’

‘My guess is that the two Changelings weren’t working together,’ said Cassidy, turning away from the window at last, voice more brisk and officious. ‘Tiran made sure we sabotaged Aestri. If she’d done nothing, Aestri would probably have the Regulator by now. Maybe it’s every goo for themselves in the renegade Changeling world, now. Maybe the left hand didn’t know what the right was doing. But Tiran’s goal still had to be the Regulator, too – this was her best chance to get her hands on it. Fifteen more minutes and we’d have been in a secure penthouse above Redoubt, then we’d be back on Blackbird and returning the device to lockup.’

Aryn blinked, a gummy feeling behind his eyes fading as his mind booted back up. ‘But it couldn’t get the Regulator out of the office before it had to run from Torrad-Var’s security, you said. So it’ll have to come back for it.’

‘Which shouldn’t be that hard,’ said Rosewood, frowning. ‘After all, it just needs to walk in looking like someone who’s supposed to be there.’

‘Which means,’ said Cassidy, ‘we need to locate the Regulator in Redoubt, and see if anyone got to it.’ He looked over them all. ‘Any of you not ready to move?’

Rosewood looked up. ‘Move where?’

‘None of my contacts on Kalviris were people I wanted to trust our necks with. But I still have links. Folks who might know what’s going on inside the club, or can find out. You might be tired, but the Changeling won’t be.’

Aryn glanced at the closed door to one of the adjourning bunkrooms. ‘What about Q’ira?’

Cassidy followed his gaze. ‘At any moment, she might figure the best way for her to get back into the Syndicate is to sell us out. And now I’m already bailing her out on her debts. She’s sad and confused now – let her sleep. We’d best have our next move before she starts to rally, stops just being scared, and begins thinking about what’s best for her.’

‘You said T’Mell accused her of selling Torrad-Var out to us.’

‘Tempers were high. Maybe he’d rather be rid of her to clean up Torrad-Var’s leftovers. Maybe he’ll stop and think for five seconds and decide she wouldn’t kill her boss.’ Cassidy shrugged. ‘She’s got to be thinking that, too. And if she’s not, she will.’ He looked Aryn up and down. ‘So you should wait here. Just in case she tries to make a move while we’re gone.’

Aryn had met all the same fitness requirements as the other three for serving in the Rooks, but he didn’t make the gym as much a part of his personality, so he was much happier surrendering to deep, soul-rending exhaustion and staying behind as Cassidy, Rosewood, and Nallera geared up and headed back out into the streets of Kalviris. Cassidy was right about keeping at least an eye on Q’ira, so he stayed on the uncomfortable sofa in this makeshift sitting room, and before he knew it had unwittingly fallen into a doze.

He only realised when something woke him up. The events of the past few days had wound him so tightly his nerves were strings tuned for an imperfect concert, and the slightest sound was enough to have him jerk upright, phaser in hand.

‘Easy, Professor.’ Q’ira stood before him in the gloom, hands half-raised. ‘I was just going for a drink. I thought you were all gone.’

She’d been crying. Even in the shadows given hues and tone from the neon lights beyond the window, he could see the pale streaks down her cheeks. But she was definitely not sneaking out, stripped down to her underwear and a vest top, the glow from outside highlighting her every curve and contour.

‘No,’ he croaked, his mouth dry. ‘Someone had to keep watch.’ His eyes still flickered to the door to the one room with a console and comms systems.

‘And you’re watching.’ Her lip half-curled, and he had to wonder if such a play was instinct by now, coming to her as easily as breathing. But she’d caught his look, and her head tilted. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not about to sound the alarm to T’Mell.’

‘I didn’t think you would,’ he protested, sitting up.

‘You at least considered it, or you’d be an idiot. Because I did think about it. And the thing is… T’Mell’s an asshole who probably couldn’t wait to get rid of me.’

He caught a quiver in her voice. ‘When we find the Changeling, and prove it killed Torrad-Var, you’ll be in the clear. If not with T’Mell, then with someone else in the Syndicate.’

She hesitated – then, as if it took a wrenching effort, stepped to the sofa and sat beside him. ‘You want to stop the Changeling and get the Regulator,’ she said, words pouring out of her as if unbidden. ‘But why the hell would you go to the effort of clearing your name, my name, with the Syndicate? Torrad-Var was your friendly contact, and he’s gone, no matter what. That can’t be your mission priority.’

‘Cassidy will want a new contact,’ Aryn pressed. ‘And if we give T’Mell Torrad-Var’s killer on a plate, maybe T’Mell becomes that guy.’

Her eyes came up to soak in every nook and corner of the room, expression sinking like she was seeing more than shadows of light, but shades of the past. ‘Maybe. But until then… I’m back in this place. Rosewood was right; I came up from here with nothing more than a pretty face to get by, then I used that to get by with Torrad-Var, and Zayna doesn’t want me back and so I have nothing, I have nobody…’

Hesitantly, he raised his hand to her shoulder. His thumb brushed against warm skin and the strap of her vest, and he had to fight for his voice to not catch as he insisted, ‘You’re not alone.’

Large, tear-filled eyes turned on his, and she bit her lower lip before she whispered, ‘I feel it. I feel alone.’ Her hand trailed up his arm to his chest, and her fingers curled in his collar,  brushed against his bare neck as she leaned in towards him. ‘I feel… empty.’

Perhaps it was exhaustion. Perhaps the anti-pheromone injections were losing their edge after long hours. Perhaps he was just kidding himself about what he wanted, or how good his self-restraint was. None of it was enough to stop him from surrendering to the pull that felt as natural as gravity by now when she kissed him – or perhaps he kissed her.

Her lips parted under his almost immediately and she flowed against him like water. He’d seen her curves and dips under the vest by the streetlights, but now he could feel her pressed against him. Fingers that had played with his collar were already sliding under his shirt, tugging at buttons, and before he knew it, Q’ira had moved to straddle him on the sofa.

‘Show me I’m not alone,’ she gasped against his lips.

His blood pounding in his ears was his sole measure of time, but it only sped faster and faster as she pulled his shirt open. His hands slid under her vest, finding her skin warm and smooth under his fingertips, and for a split second he felt silly, like a schoolboy fumbling as fast as possible. But did it matter, with her so close and so eager and desperate? Did it matter, even though he’d no idea how long he’d dozed, how long the others had been gone –

It wasn’t the thought of Cassidy and the others coming back to find them that made him stop, per se. But the notion was cold water on the senses enough to spark them into action, make him wonder how long they’d really been gone, what they were doing. What he was doing.

With a gasp, Aryn broke off the kiss, and his hands at Q’ira’s hips were firm, now, as he pushed her back. ‘I… no. I’m sorry, this is a terrible idea…’

His mind was rebooting enough that he saw the twitch of irritation in her pout before she pawed at his collar again. ‘It’s all a terrible idea,’ she purred. ‘So what does it matter?’

‘No, you’re – you’re at rock bottom; this is taking advantage…’ It was the truth, but not the whole truth; he knew his mind was reeling, too, adrenaline and fear driving his body more than the logic and reason he relied on.

Her fingers trailed across his neck, but when he didn’t move, Q’ira sat up. The look of desperate longing in her eyes evaporated in an instant. ‘…you’re such a fucking boy scout!’ Then she was on her feet, pulling her vest down, and there was little of the vulnerability she’d used to entangle him mere seconds ago. ‘I’m a street trash dancing girl; can’t you at least try to save me with your dick?’

‘I… what?’ Aryn felt abruptly more naked than he knew he was, buttoning up his shirt like it would hide his confusion and embarrassment. ‘What the hell is this?’

‘This was the fact that you “Rooks” are gonna hang me out to dry the second it suits you!’ Q’ira snapped, jabbing a finger at the exit door. ‘I heard Cassidy! Don’t pretend otherwise!’

‘So – what does that – what does seducing me help with that?’

‘Like it was difficult,’ she sniffed. ‘But they listen to you, and you’ve clearly got this “saviour” complex about me, so I thought that could do with being sweetened a little.’

Indignation and hurt battled with embarrassment, both hot and inconvenient in his chest. ‘This was about getting me on side so I’d back you to the team. You think I’m that shallow?’

‘I think it nearly worked.’

He stood, partly to feel less like she was yelling down at him while half-naked, partly so he could step to the window and get some distance. Aryn gave himself a beat to look out on the street, draw what passed for deep, cleansing breaths in a place like this, and gather himself before he replied. ‘How likely do you think it is that Cassidy can find anyone who’ll say what’s going on inside Redoubt?’

‘Right now?’ When he looked back, he could see her brow furrowing. Masks of indignation and vulnerability alike gone now, she was thinking, calculating. ‘He’ll know muscle, I expect. And I bet muscle will want to prove they’re loyal to T’Mell. I wouldn’t give him good odds.’

‘Okay.’ Aryn nodded, and finished buttoning up his shirt as he looked her in the eye. ‘So how likely is it you can find anyone who’ll say what’s going on in there?’ Now she hesitated, sincerely wrong-footed, and he gave a tight smile. ‘Prove yourself to Cassidy. And he’s got no choice but to save you along with us.’