We landed on Voltaire two days ago.

I have to say, it’s a hell of a lot fancier than Fakir. It looks more like a tiny artificial planet than a space station. The whole thing is encircled by a sphere made up of triangular panes of glass. The glass changes between opaque and transparent on a 24-hour cycle to simulate Terra’s day and night—much higher tech than Fakir’s use of UV lamps. Spaces for living and recreation are on the surface of the inner sphere, so residents can enjoy the natural light. That leaves the station’s core for power generation, life support systems, automated manufacturing, UV-lamp greenhouses, spacecraft hangars, and so on.

Meanwhile, Fakir looks like somebody put a big metal box around the slummy part of a city and shot it into space.

Which makes sense, considering Fakir was originally built as a military base and Voltaire was built as a field station for some rather well-funded researchers from a prestigious university.

Anyway, we entered through one of several landing ports—long, tubular passageways that protrude from the glass sphere like pores and lead to hangars within the station. Flora had provided us with the codes we needed to enter—easy enough, since researchers were allowed visitors. They didn’t even look up records on our ship to make sure we’re not criminals, which is fortunate since we absolutely are. The worst offenses aren’t on public record, but the Adelaide has certainly been flagged as a smugglers’ ship by now.

“I have to see the rest of this station,” Alec said as we landed. We were all gathered in the bridge, and he’d been staring slack-jawed at the ship’s video feed ever since I first came into sight. I suppose it must have put Darwin to shame, too. “Please let me come with you.”

“Oh, feel free,” I said. “This place isn’t even slightly dangerous. Just be discreet about why we’re here. Frances, are you coming?”

Frances looked up from the doorway she was looming in. “I’m going to pick up some medical supplies while we’re here. Shouldn’t take long, but text me when you’re on the way back.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “Athena, you need anything?”

“No, we’re stocked up on everything I need,” Athena replied. “Oh, but I should probably mention that Flora doesn’t know about the wetware thing, and she’ll have to fly along with us to keep us updated in case they move Jules, so…it’s up to you whether you’d rather explain it to her yourself or have me do it.”

“Oh. I’m surprised to hear that,” I said. Flora had seemed pretty close to Jules, given that she knew their location somehow and had jumped at the chance to help them. It seemed natural that she’d know about Athena as well. Then again, I guess nobody but the crew really needs to know, and if someone doesn’t need to know that you’re committing a war crime, it’s usually best not to tell them. “I’ll play it by ear, I guess. If there’s a time when it seems right to tell her, I’ll do it.”

“Sounds good,” Athena said. “Text me when and if you tell her. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume I have to tell her myself.”

“How do you think she’ll react?”

“I’ve never met her in person, so I can’t really say. But at the very least, I’m sure she won’t rat Jules out or anything. The two of them go way back, and they’ve been through some pretty intense stuff together,” Athena explained.

With that, those of us who were able to left the ship and ventured out into Voltaire. From the hangars, we took one bullet train to the surface and another to the general neighborhood of our destination.

It looked something like the inside of a mall: level after level of white floors rising around you, natural light streaming in from above, the occasional potted plant. The only real difference was that instead of storefronts, there were front doors. Some looked like homes, with little personal touches like brightly colored paint or decorative wreaths. Others, drab and unadorned, looked like office buildings or labs.

“An entire planet indoors,” Frances remarked. “Kind of claustrophobic, if you ask me.”

I grew up on a station, and this one had more open space than Fakir did, but somehow I agreed with her. Fakir was like an enormous building. Maybe you got cabin fever sometimes, but everything looked like it was supposed to be enclosed. This was different. The buildings rose up as high as trees, leaving only a small sliver of sky visible from the ground floor. And then there was the shiny whiteness of it all. It felt like a hospital that had grown out of its walls.

“Well, you kids have fun,” Frances continued. “I’m off to buy some drugs.”

And with that we went our separate ways.

Alec spent the entire walk gawking at our surroundings, though I’m not sure how that entertained him for long considering everything looked the same to me. I spent the whole time looking at the people.

It was all humans, at least that I saw. There weren’t many wandering around, which made sense considering that in this sector of the station—which, by the way, is big enough to have time zones—it was late morning on a work day. Everyone must have been at work or school or wherever. But a few stray folks crossed our path here and there. I watched each of them carefully, checking for weapons. Nobody seemed to have guns, except one guy who carried a tranq gun meant for use on wildlife. Most people carried utility knives. Pretty typical for a research station, I supposed.

“Does Fakir use the three-shift system?” Alec said suddenly, tearing my attention away from the posture of the man across the way from us.

“The what?” I asked.

“I guess not,” he said. “On Darwin, we—they—split up the day into three eight hour shifts. Each person sleeps for a shift, works for a shift, and has free time for a shift. So really there are three completely different crews each working a different shift. That way nothing is ever left unattended, you know? But they can’t do that here, because it ruins the point of using real sunlight if a third of the people on station are asleep when the sun’s out. I’m sure they must have a small emergency crew on call to deal with anything that comes up at night, or something like that.”

“Actually, I think Fakir does do that with station staff, except we’re on a thirty-hour cycle. It’s just that my job didn’t have anything to do with the station itself, so my schedule didn’t line up with those,” I explained.

“What was your job?”

“I was a bouncer at a club for a while before things got out of hand. After that I worked in a wealthy family’s private police force until Bloodied Hand stuff made its way towards Fakir, and, well…let’s just say I was between jobs when Jules came along,” I said. All mostly true, and more information than Jules had ever given about their past, so I figured that was all I really had to say about myself.

“What do you mean, things got out of hand?” Alec asked.

Of course he’d ask. And I wasn’t nearly as used to dodging questions as Jules. “Well, do you know what a puchin looks like?”

“Uh…they’re the really tall spiky ones, right?”

“Yeah. Now imagine about twenty of those, but half of them are high on stimulants and have decided to pick a fight with the other half while the other two bouncers on duty are going at it in the bathroom,” I said. “Not to mention that this is Fakir, so everyone is armed.”

Alec sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Yikes. What did you do?”

The corner of my mouth twitched up slightly. “Well, I tried to break things up, but I got shot in the foot pretty early on in the process, so I was like, fuck that. I marched my ass right into the bathroom knowing full well what was going on in there, and then I yelled and bled all over my coworkers until they went out to deal with the situation. But of course, two against twenty still isn’t great, so pretty soon they came back with a few new holes and we all barricaded ourselves in there while we called the cops. After they cleared the place out, they stayed to ask us a few questions. And then suddenly, in walks our manager—three hours late. I quit on the spot. I hope the other two got fired, but I didn’t stick around to find out.”

“Wait, were the other bouncers puchins or humans?” Alec asked.

“One of each,” I said. “This was before the Bloodied Hand really started bearing down on Fakir, so that kind of thing wasn’t unusual. No need to worry about birth control that way.”

“So the Bloodied Hand is…anti-human? Pro-human? Pro-puchin? Anti-puchin? Just against interspecies relationships?”

I nearly stopped in my tracks. “Wait, you seriously don’t know?”

Alec shrugged. “They haven’t really done anything on Terra or Darwin, so the name’s familiar, but I don’t know much about them.”

“You didn’t hear about them on Demali? That should be close enough that–”

“I was a little bit locked in a basement on Demali,” Alec interrupted.

“Oh, right,” I muttered. “Okay, so, the Bloodied Hand is this sort of…pro-human terrorist group that roams the galaxy. Or I guess more human supremacist than pro-human. Point is, they have a roving fleet of ships that attacks any ET settlements that it feels are too close to human ones, or any ET populations that it thinks have privilege over humans living in the same area. For the past decade or so, they’ve been making trouble in the neighborhood. I think they had a problem with some puchin-run mining operations on nearby asteroids. Within the last few years, Fakir caught their attention because, well, it’s a pretty militaristic culture and puchins have a lot of physical advantages over humans. And sure, that caused some problems, but the Bloodied Hand coming in and making threats only made those problems worse.”

“Did they ever make good on any of those threats?” Alec asked.

“They attacked a lot of shipments coming in and out of the station. The biggest incident led to thirty or so casualties. Nothing on the station itself, though,” I said. “At least not while I was there. I’ve kind of been avoiding news from Fakir. No point stressing myself out about something I’m no longer a part of.”

Finally, we reached our destination: a powder blue door on the corner of 17th Street and 5th Avenue, number 655. The doorbell sang a cheerful little tune when I pressed it.

It flew open and out danced a woman about my own age. Her skin was dusted all over with freckles, and she wore a colorful, flowing skirt. She smiled up at me, brown eyes shining, and said, “You must be Marie. And Alec?”

Alec nodded.

“Flora Leeds?” I asked.

“That’s me!” she chirped.

She seemed…I don’t know, my first impression was that she didn’t seem like the sort of person who would have the “illegal talents” necessary to track down someone who’d been taken into Republic custody. She looked like she’d fit in better with a sewing circle than a ring of criminals. But about six seconds later, I realized that made perfect sense for someone who associated with Jules. Even her attitude, which I thought was strangely chipper for someone about to carry out a high stakes rescue mission, made more sense when I remembered she and Jules were close personal friends.

“Oh! But I almost forgot!” Flora darted back inside, only to reemerge a moment later carrying a sizable cardboard box. “That big order Jules put in for the two of you is finally done.” She pressed the box into my arms. I accepted it with no small amount of confusion.

“What big order?” Alec asked.

“Oh, shoot I guess I ruined the surprise,” Flora said. “Jules said you two had nothing but the clothes on your backs when you joined up, so they ordered some custom work from one of the shops around here. Clothes and a few extra goodies!”

Had I been in a lighter mood, I probably would’ve laughed out loud. I came aboard the Adelaide with about three changes of institute-issued clothes in my backpack. Alec came with a dirty tee shirt and khakis. We’d been making do with the various crew uniforms stashed away on the ship, with Alec being partial to engineers’ jumpsuits and me tending towards the convertible pants and logo-embroidered polo shirts that had apparently served as the ground crew’s uniform. Either of our wardrobes could’ve easily been improved at any planet we stopped at if Jules thought it was necessary, but instead they waited months because they wanted to buy us custom-made clothes.

“I guess that explains why Frances took so many different measurements during that last round of physicals,” I muttered. “Any chance ‘goodies’ includes weapons? I meant to pick something up while I was here.”

“Oh, no,” Flora said. “You can’t get any real weapons here. At least, not without going through some very rigorous paperwork and licensing exams.”

I sighed. So much for that plan. “Shall we get going? Oh, by the way, how safe is it to speak openly here?”

“The only thing to worry about is being overhead by the people around us,” Flora said. “This is a research station, not a police state.”

“The two overlap more than you’d think, but okay.” I took a look around and saw that we were alone. I lowered my voice anyway. “Just so you know, um. You’ll probably notice that our ship is pretty big for a four-person crew. We’re able to get away with having such a small crew because we have, uh, a particular crew member who experiences a non-typical existence of a slightly illegal–”

“The ship is run by wetware,” Alec interrupted.

“That,” I confirmed.

“Oh! Uh. Why?” Flora asked, her face going from shock to confusion to concern in rapid succession.

“You’d have to ask Jules,” I said. “They’ve been doing it since before either of us joined the crew. But anyway, our, uh, wetware unit’s name is Athena. She’s the one who contacted you in the first place.”

“She’s really chill,” Alec promised. “Not even a little bit murderous. Just very, very illegal.”

Flora seemed to stop working at that point. She didn’t seem especially distressed, just…zoned out. She stared into the middle distance. If I had to describe her expression, I’d say maybe vague frustration? Her lips were pursed and her jaw was tight.

“Uh, Flora…?” I asked. “This isn’t a dealbreaker or anything, is it?”

Just like that, she snapped back into the present. “Oh! Sorry. No, it’s fine. It’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

And so, after I paused to let Athena and Frances know the deed had been done, we made our way back to the ship.

We gathered in the kitchen and brought up a holo screen at the table. Flora pulled up a map and pointed out Jules’s location to us—a Republic holding facility on Ethros. A few minutes later, Frances wandered in.

“Did you find what you needed?” I asked.

She scowled and shook her head. “I got some basic first aid shit, but if you want the good shit, they need to see a real medical license first. Damn civilization.”

I turned to Flora. “What are the odds we’re going to need the good shit after this?”

She bit her lip. “I’d say…I’m optimistic about this,” she said. I didn’t put much stock in it. She seemed like she’d be optimistic about anything. “From what I can tell, Orange Sector doesn’t know as much as they think they do.”

“So there is something real going on here,” Frances snapped, slamming her hands down on the table. She thrust her face towards Flora and glared at her, cybernetic eyes gleaming fiercely. “Jules actually did whatever the hell they were arrested for.”

Flora didn’t even flinch. “For once, it’s not about something Jules did. It’s more about something that happened to them,” she said, maintaining her usual cheerful demeanor even as Frances stared her down.

I expected Frances to back down after that—for all her hot air, she usually only raged for a few seconds before deciding it wasn’t worth it. But instead, she tilted her head a little, stared a Flora curiously, and came in even closer.

“I’ve got a question for you, Flora,” Frances said slowly. “When’s the last time you felt fear?”

“Frances,” I hissed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You want answers, right Marie? You’re damn loud when you do those logs,” she said. “And I think I’m onto something here. So, Flora, when was it? When’s the last time you were afraid?”

Flora raised an eyebrow and smiled a little, like it was just some strange, funny question asked casually. Like it wasn’t an interrogation from a six-foot-and-change, scarred-up mob doctor. “When I found out Jules was running wetware, of course,” she said. “No offense meant! But that kind of thing could get them into serious trouble.”

Frances looked at me. “What was her reaction when you told her?”

“I don’t know how to describe it,” I said. “Surprised, I guess.”

“But was she afraid?”

“…No. She wasn’t. I still don’t know where you’re going with this,” I said. I was starting to get annoyed. If not for the fact that Flora didn’t really seem to care, I’d have been worried that Frances was going to chase her off before she could really help us.

Frances turned back to Flora. “I’m not talking about worry here. Not just ‘oh no, what if this happens.’ I mean fear. I mean the thing that freezes you in your tracks when you see a gun barrel pointed in your direction. I mean the thing that makes you jump when you hear a noise in the middle of the night. I mean the thing that anyone in their right fucking mind would be feeling right now!” she shouted. “When was the last time you felt that?!”

Alec backed away from the table, but Flora stayed in place, still looking more confused than anything else.

“I think that’s enough, Frances,” I said firmly. “Go put your supplies away.”

Frances lingered, still glaring, and at first I didn’t think she would obey. But in the end, she did, making a little ‘I’m watching you’ gesture at Flora as she left.

The table was silent for a little while, giving Frances time to get out of earshot.

“What was that about?” Flora asked.

“I’m not entirely sure,” I said. But I was pretty damn sure. Jules walked right towards the sound of gunfire. Flora was unfazed when Frances screamed at her. Whatever the hell was wrong with Jules, Frances saw it in Flora, too. I let it go, though, because surely asking Jules, who we’d known for months, would be more fruitful than trying to get something out of Flora, who we’d known for several minutes. “That was our medic, Frances, by the way. Sorry about…whatever that was.”

“It’s quite alright,” Flora said. “Let’s get to planning, then.”

And we did. It’s quite a long flight to Ethros, so we set our course and launched before we planned any further. Then, for the rest of the ship’s day cycle, we worked out our general strategy. We’re still bickering over the details, and I don’t think that’s going to stop anytime soon, but at least we have some idea of what we’ll be doing.

Shortly after we turned in for the night, Frances found me in my quarters. One arm propped her up casually against the doorframe while the other rested on her hip. “So,” she said. “I overhear a bitfrom your logs, but not enough. Come on. What are your theories on this whole mess?”

I sat up on my bunk. “The logs really don’t go that deep,” I said. “I have no idea what all the Orange Sector business is about. Up until now, I just thought Jules was a bit cracked in the head and I was trying to figure out how to help.”

Frances let out a dissatisfied grunt. “Well, you know what I think?” she said.

I sighed. “What?”

“I think this is going to be a fucking mess.” And with that, she stalked off.

“Wow! What a beacon of positivity!”Athena piped up.

At that exact moment, I realized surely Athena knew more about this situation than the rest of us. She’d known Jules for longer and had access to all their contacts. Something in me questioned the wisdom of trying to fish for information she hadn’t volunteered, but I figured asking nicely couldn’t hurt. “Say, Athena. Do you know what the hell’s happening?”

“More than you do, that’s for sure,” she said brightly. “Still not saying much, though. Jules is secretive about their past.”

“But you do know what Orange Sector wants with Jules.”

“Vaguely,” Athena confirmed.

“So what the hell is it?” I asked, exasperated.

“I’m not going to tell you without Jules’s permission.”

“Fucking seriously?”

“Seriously.”

I groaned. “Look, everybody on this crew has already accepted the fact that Jules runs wetware. What could they possibly have done that would be more concerning than that?”

“It’s not about whether the crew accepts it or not,” Athena said tersely. “It’s about respecting Jules’s privacy. There are some things they might not want you to know yet, and it’s not my place to tell you those things.”

“Even if those things are extremely relevant to the rescue we’re carrying out?” I asked.

The door to my room, which had been open, slammed shut. I heard a click as it locked.

A chill ran down my spine. I’d seen this movie. “Athena, open the damn door,” I demanded. We made jokes about this kind of thing all the time, but for the first time since boarding the Adelaide, I found myself seriously thinking about all the ways Athena could screw me over if she felt like it. She had control over the life support system, the course we were taking, the artificial gravity, the goddamn coffeemaker. Everything. Given that and the fact that we were way out in the ‘middle of goddamn nowhere’ region of space, it suddenly seemed appropriate for her to use the name of a deity.

“Calm down,” Athena said at a lower volume than usual. “I just don’t want anyone to overhear. The thing is, I owe Jules more than I’ve ever—I owe them more than I can repay. Do you know how big the bounty is on wetware units? It’s more than Jules will make in their entire career. They could’ve shipped me off to the authorities and retired comfortably on that money. But they didn’t. This life is better than any I could reasonably have hoped to live after…that…and it’s all thanks to Jules. So I think you can understand if I’m not comfortable spreading their personal business around without their knowledge or permission.”

The door unlocked, and the tension melted out of my shoulders.

Did you really think I was going to–

YES! I fucking…you can’t just…look, you could kill me so easily.

So could Frances.

Wh—she’s taller than me, but I like to think I could hold my own against her. Institute training, remember?

But she’s the only doctor you have access to way out here. If she decided she didn’t like you, she could just…slip you something, one day.

Great, that’s gonna be fun to think about next time I get my flu shot. Thanks, Athena, you’re really great at this whole ‘reassuring’ thing.

Jules could kill you, too. They’re a pacifist, sure, but there are loopholes. Most of the time, you’re following them pretty blindly. They could lead you into a trap one day, and that would be that.

Are you gonna tell me how Alec could kill me now, or can we skip right to the point?

Well, theoretically Alec could kill you by replacing the ship’s parts with cheap counterfeits, but I’d kick his ass if I caught him doing that. Anyway, my point is, even though the rest of the crew could kill you, you’re never waiting for it to happen. You sit still for Frances’s exams, you follow Jules’s plans pretty much unquestioningly, and you let Alec do part replacements without your supervision. So why’s it only me that freaks you out that badly?

Are you—You were deliberately trying to intimidate me, slamming the door like that. Don’t even pretend!

I was frustrated, and I reacted to that frustration. Frances does that constantly and nobody blinks an eye. Look, what I’m trying to say here is, I’m a crew member like any other. Yes, I have control over things that are important to your survival, but so does everyone else on this ship. And just like everyone else, I’m occasionally going to have an emotional reaction to something, maybe even an overreaction. And despite those things, you’re going to have to trust me.

I…Fine. Fine, okay, I see what you’re saying. And I’m sorry. I just…don’t…

You should warn me. If you need to do that again. The sound of it just…

Listen, it’s late and tomorrow’s a big day. We’ll work this out better when all this is over.

Marie Ruiz, signing off.