Samara locked down her helmet and checked the HUD display, ensuring her suit was operating as advertised, before turning her attention to the monitor. “Are you ready?” she asked Rook.

“I am still not sanguine about this,” he replied, “but having run diagnostics on both the hardware and software, I am as ready as I am likely to be.”

“Then I guess it’s time,” she replied. “Just waiting for you to shut down before we can go dark.”

Rook sighed before nodding. “Initiating transfer to memory core,” he said unhappily, “Emergency protocols are now in effect.” He gave her a hard look. “Ensure your friends do not get any ideas about overriding my lockouts. They will not enjoy my response.”

“I’ll keep them on a short leash,” she promised. “Now go to sleep.”

“I really hate this,” he muttered, before his image blanked from the screen.

She waited a full five minutes, just to be safe, before contacting Xeno. “All right, Rook is bedded down for the duration. What’s our status?”

“Ready to cut power on your mark,” he answered. “Course is set and locked in, and I have Kalypso with me for backup. Persephone is standing by Gideon with a syringe full of stimulants, ready to wake him once it’s safe. And all four of us are suited up, with good seals and green lights.”

“Then it’s time,” she told him. “Shut it down.”

“Copy... initiating shutdown,” he answered, as Rächerin’s normal sounds faded away. The heavy thrum of the engines eased off, the whir of rushing air from the ventilators, along with a dozen more, all falling silent as the ship went dark.

“All right, we have about eight hours before we get in range of At’sah,” Samara reminded them. “Xeno, start the clock. We’ll go to full standby one hour out.”

“Understood,” he answered. “Until then, we might as well get some rest.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorted. “Think I’ll check in with Gideon and Persephone.”

“As you wish,” he acknowledged.

Samara leveraged herself out of her chair and headed for the cabins, rapping on the door frame as she arrived at Gideon’s compartment, as the hatch sat wide open. Operating the portals in manual mode was just too much work, so they’d locked them open instead. It was also the reason Persephone was in Gideon’s cabin, and not the other way around. Leaving her quarters open would mean disinfecting the entire ship from top to bottom, and lord help them all if they missed a spot. They’d done it once, after repelling the marauders' assault at Star’s End, and she wasn’t in a hurry to repeat it.

Persephone looked over and waved as she helped Gideon sit up. She leaned against the opposite bulkhead while he stared blearily at her. “How do you feel?” she asked.

“Like they’ve kept me drugged for a decade or two,” he stammered. “It’s not as much fun as it sounds.”

“No, I imagine it isn’t,” she said after a moment. “Is there anything I can do?”

His brow furrowed in concentration as he stared at her, waging an internal debate, before turning to the other Protean. “Give us a few, will you?” he asked.

She shot a look at Samara. “Are you certain?” she asked him.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he nodded. “I need to talk to her in private.”

“Very well,” she said at last. “I’ll be outside if you need me.” Persephone exited the compartment, giving Samara another hard stare as she swept past.

“Have a seat,” he motioned, pointing to a chair next to his bed.

Samara sat down, peering back at the open hatch. “What was that look about?” she wondered.

“I think she knows why I wanted to talk to you alone,” she answered. “She doesn’t approve.”

She raised an eyebrow. “If you’re thinking something amorous, your timing is terrible,” Samara chuckled, pointing out their respective suits.

Gideon didn’t laugh. “Not why I wanted to talk,” he told her. He paused, as if he were gathering the courage to speak, before blurting, “...I want out.”

“You mean, out of the team?” she asked, puzzled.

“No,” he shook his head, “I mean out,” he repeated with emphasis. “All the way out.”

Samara blinked. “If you mean what I think you mean…”

“You know what I mean,” he said in even tones. “As ironic as it sounds coming from someone kept permanently sedated, I’m tired. All I remember from the last twenty years are jumbled bits and pieces, none of which make sense. And why? Because I’m a walking time bomb, remember? Too dangerous to be let loose.” He gritted his teeth as he glared at her. “I eat from an IV, and I wear a goddamn diaper,” he snarled. “The drugs are getting less effective, which means increased doses. Do you have any idea what that shit does to your system?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” she said softly.

“Nothing pleasant, let me tell you,” he said, looking away. “I’m done, Samara. This isn’t living, it’s barely existing.” He closed his eyes and whispered, “And I don’t want to play this game anymore.”

She leaned back in her chair. “What exactly do you want from me?” she said at last.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Just unlock the hatch and turn your back. I’ll take it from there.”

Samara nodded, considering that. “And the others?”

“They won’t like it... Seph especially... but they’ll understand. Eventually.” He shrugged. “We’ve had this conversation before.”

“If I do this,” she told him, taking a deep breath, “I might not be able to give you much warning. And it won’t be this mission, not when we’re blowing past our target at .9c.”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving today,” he replied. “And I don’t need long, just enough to get my balance back and clear my head.”

She was silent for a long time as she mulled over his request. “We all hit that wall eventually,” she said at last. “It’s not up to me to tell you how to live your life, or when you’re allowed to end it,” she said quietly. “I’ll do what I can.”

Gideon reached out and clasped her gloved hand. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Not sure you should thank me for this,” she said uncomfortably.

“Forget I said anything then,” he told her, looking away once more. “Better send Seph back in. She’s going to get twitchy, us being together this long.”

Samara rose to her feet. She wanted to say something, not just leave the conversation hanging on that rather awkward note, but what could she say? What was the correct response to someone asking for your help to end their life? What was the proper etiquette? Somehow, she doubted anyone had ever bothered to write down those rules.

So instead she settled for a polite nod as she turned and left the cabin, pausing long enough to let Persephone know Gideon was asking for her, only to have the other woman grab her arm before she could open her mouth.

“Forget what he told you,” she hissed, “he’s not in his right mind.”

“He seemed clear-headed to me,” Samara countered.

“I know what he asked you to do,” she said in menacing tones, “and I’m telling you right now to back off.”

Something went cold inside her. “You do not want to dance with me,” Samara warned. “In two seconds I could snap your neck.”

“And I could breach your suit in one,” Persephone fired back. “Let. It. Go.”

She could feel her hackles rise as she geared for battle, when suddenly everything clicked into place. “Damn it all to hell,” she sighed as the fight drained right out of her. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Persephone flinched as if someone slapped her. “He’s my friend,” she struggled to reply. “I care about him, is all. As a friend.”

Her rebuttal was about as convincing as a badly forged visa. “Oh, boy, how long have you been carrying that torch?” she groaned. “Typhoid Mary and Sleeping Beauty. It’d be beautiful if it weren’t so damned tragic.” Samara clucked her tongue, shaking her head. “It’s doomed, Seph,” she said as gently as she could manage, “I know you know that. You can’t stop him, because eventually he’ll find a way.”

“I can try,” she said in despair, as her feelings came bursting through at last.

Samara went to pinch her nose in frustration, only to smack her hand into her faceplate. “Right... look, you want my advice? Go in there and talk to him. I mean really talk, which obviously you haven’t been doing.”

“And say what?” she demanded. “You’re right, we are doomed, just like you said, so what is it I’m supposed to tell him that won’t make things worse?” The anguish on her face was palpable, as her emotions battled for supremacy.

“Why not say how you really feel and see where that leads?” she suggested. “Or don’t. Whatever,” she said, waving her hand in defeat as she turned and walked away.

“I don’t suppose you’ve ever been in love,” Persephone snorted.

Samara came to a halt. “Love isn’t for people like me,” she said at last, before disappearing down the corridor.

Kalypso raised an eyebrow as Samara landed in their midst. “How long has that been going on?” she demanded, as she plopped down beside them.

“I’m afraid you must be more specific,” he told her.

“You know... that. Him wanting to step out the airlock minus his helmet, while she pines for him from afar,” she elaborated.

“Oh... that,” Kalypso sighed. “A long time now, I’m afraid.”

“And neither of you thought to warn me?” she snapped.

The pair shared a look. How Xeno managed that was still a mystery to her. “It wasn’t our place,” he said finally.

“You didn’t think this was something that could affect our mission?” she all but shouted. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Samara,” Xeno sighed, “at the risk of sounding bitter, you have no idea what life is like for those of us exiled to the Ste. Jean Baptiste,” he said, his words suddenly clipped. In fact, he sounded upset, something unusual for him.

“For better or worse, I’m the one stuck running this mad tea party,” she growled, “and if something is going to put us in danger, then I need to know! It’s pretty damn simple. And I fail to see what the Knights have to do with this.”

“It’s not about the Knights Hospitaller,” Kalypso chimed in, “it’s about status, or the lack thereof.” Her normally pleasant expression had taken on a dark scowl. “Be honest, Samara. When you look at us... any of us... what do you see?”

“I don’t understand the question,” she answered. “I see you.”

Kalypso shook her head. “I know you believe that, but I’m afraid that’s not all you see. The first time we met, I spotted the look in your eyes a kilometer away, I’ve seen it too many times to miss it. You can’t mistake that look for anything else.”

“What look?” Samara shot back, exasperated.

“The look,” Xeno answered for her. “Even without my eyes, I can still see it. Hear it, anyway.” The irritation he’d exhibited just a moment before had disappeared, replaced by something more like melancholy. “The look of pity. Of disgust. Of shame.” He cocked his head, staring at her with those ruined eyes. “The look that screams, ‘There but for the grace of God go I’. Did you ever stop and ask yourself why we were sent to the Ste. Jean Baptiste?”

“To receive proper medical care,” she said, suddenly on guard.

“Only in part,” he explained. “No, the greater reason is this: that we are an embarrassment. An unwelcome reminder of what can happen, of just how horribly all the grand promises of the Protean Clan can go wrong.” Xeno shrugged. “I do not expect you to understand. You can’t.”

“Now wait just a minute…” she began, her anger rising.

“It’s true,” Kalypso interrupted. “It’s not a slight, or an insult, Samara. You don’t know what life is like for us, and for those with similar fates. We’re the dregs, the unwanted, the unlucky misbegotten who rolled the dice and came up snake eyes, while you rolled a natural seven.”

“That is not my fault,” she snapped.

“I know,” she said gently. “It’s no one’s fault, or perhaps it’s everyone’s. We all bear some amount of blame, and it would take a smarter person than me to unravel that conundrum. But the crux of the matter is that you were lucky, and I wasn’t, and I wouldn’t be human if a part of me didn’t resent you for it.”

“If you think for one moment, that my life has been easy…” she started again, still indignant.

“We know that it hasn’t,” Xeno said. “As I’ve said before, I’ve kept tabs on you,” he reminded her, tapping once again the metal box embedded in his skull. “I have some small inkling of the hell you have experienced, and I would not wish that life on anyone. But there is still a looming chasm between us, one that no amount of suffering on your part can ever bridge.”

“What are you talking about? What chasm?” she badgered him.

“You can still see,” he spat out, his normally placid nature nowhere to be found. “You aren’t forced to sleep your life away or live in isolation for fear you’ll kill everyone around you simply by breathing the same air. Even Kalypso here,” he said, pointing her out with a wave of his hand, “she endures unimaginable pain every day from the metal limbs grafted to her. And before you ask why they haven’t been removed; the answer is that they can’t be. Not without killing her.” he sighed as he reached out and took her hand. “Not that it matters, as the limbs themselves are already on the job, taking another bit of life from her every single day.”

Samara turned to the other woman in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her voice now strained with emotion.

“There’s nothing you can do,” she said with a broken smile. “You have enough on your plate as it is, without me adding to it. Besides, I’ve known how my story ends for a long time now. I’ve made my peace with it.”

“As you can see, Samara,” Xeno continued, before she could work up a response, “we live in vastly different worlds. And the reason we didn’t tell you about Persephone and Gideon is that amongst the Misfit Toys, we have one cardinal rule: we don’t interfere with each other’s lives. None of us can know what another is struggling with, not really. Each must choose for themselves and decide when and how much to share with others.”

“And yet Persephone is doing her damnedest to interfere with Gideon’s choice,” she pointed out.

“Because she loves him,” Kalypso said sadly. “Love makes you do things nothing else will.”

The pair looked at her as she struggled to process it all. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, her face reddening in shame.

“Then say nothing,” Xeno suggested. “Instead, why not take the next few hours before we reach At’sah to reflect on what you have learned?”

Samara nodded, taking a breath. “I’ll be in my cabin,” she told them, as she rose and left the compartment.