If one did not look carefully, one would not have realized that Talrash was injured.

She carried herself well, only swaying slightly as she led her trio across Death Valley. Her golden robes had been smoking in the minutes immediately following their retreat. Though that had disappeared, and they seemed none the worse for wear. Robber Fly wondered if Talrash would have a scar like his, a tree-like lesion that would branch from the bolt’s point on her chest down to her foot, where electricity had rooted into the ground.

He felt a bit jealous of her, to be honest. He had been out for hours after his encounter with that Joseph character.

The kid had grown. He didn't hesitate. He had kept his head on his shoulders.

And it made Robber Fly incredibly excited for when they would meet again.

He jogged over to catch up with Talrash.

“So,” he said, “That was something.”

“We got what we wanted,” Talrash said, “Our suspicions were confirmed. Shimmer's in the desert, and we got his metapower.”

“True,” Robber Fly said, glancing back.

The air around the third of their number rippled as he walked. Occasionally, the mercenary would wave his arm out in front of him, the heat following along with him like a school of minnows. He would stop at this, considering his newfound power like a curious child. He closed his hands around the heat, which squelched between his fingers like mud.

Heat made solid. Heat given form. No wonder Shimmer had been so powerful. He was king of these lands.

Now if only their mercenary would quit stopping every five minutes to experiment with his powers. Eventually Talrash turned.

“Walk, or we leave,” she said.

The mercenary stopped after that, his head dipped down a bit.

“Weird guy,” Robber Fly said, “Where'd you get him?”

“Of no concern to you,” Talrash said, “He's already been on a couple of missions. Nothing fancy yet. A product of the labs, from what I hear.”

“Ah, one of them Little Stones,” Robber Fly said, “So he's not one of us, then?”

“Not metahuman, not truly,” Talrash said, “But he's one for our cause.”

“Sure, yeah, whatever,” Robber Fly said, rolling his eyes, “Did you see Oliphant over there?”

“From a distance, yes,” Talrash said.

“Not much I could do to him,” Robber Fly said, “I think he's injured, yet he still tossed my ass. He's going to be a problem.”

“He's a man with a magic sword, and not much else,” Talrash gave a smirk, “I'm not worried.”

“You underestimate what a man with a magic sword can do,” Robber Fly said, “A man with a magic sword was the one who stopped the Mantic-”

Again, Talrash whirled, delivering a slam into Robber Fly's gut. He was ready for this, however, tightening the muscles in his core and moving to the side a tiny bit. It still hurt like a bitch, but he didn't double over this time.

“Do not speak of him,” Talrash snarled, “Ever. Understood?”

“S-sure,” Robber Fly said, “Ixnay on the Arthuryay.”

Back to her regular bad mood, Talrash swished off again. Robber Fly rolled his eyes, glanced back to make sure the mercenary was following them, and continued on.

***

Becenti didn't speak for the rest of the day. Neither did anyone else, for that matter, as the most intense heat of Death Valley overtook them. The worst of it was dulled, just a bit, by Becenti's power, though the battle earlier had defanged the older man, and Joseph felt himself sweating as they walked. Water was passed out among the group, each of them taking sips and making sure to stay hydrated through the day, but it was still a rough going. Joseph was used to taking hikes, of course. He enjoyed them, a nice weekend hiking up some mountain or other, his friends at his side, the woods of Washington all around him.

But this wasn't like that. It was flat, and hot, and miserable. There was nothing around them for miles save for desert. To drive the point further, every time he looked out on the horizon he hoped he didn't see anything. For every spot in the distance, every figure he could sometimes make out, was a metahuman. A rival, to their getting to the Visionary. A potential skirmish, with all of the energy and fear that came with that. Fighting was exhausting. Fighting in the desert, even more so. Joseph wondered if they all wouldn't just collapse and die after another spat.

There was nothing to do but to suck it up, scan the horizon, and walk.

They walked for a long time.

***

Night fell over Death Valley, and with it came a sliver of relief from the unrelenting heat. The sun dimmed, dipped into sunset, scarred the sky orange, then disappeared altogether. Joseph found it strange that it did not wink out completely, before realizing, with a jolt and a shiver down his spine, how used he had become to the Inner Sun of Londoa. In the sun’s place was a sea of stars, so many that it made Joseph's heart skip a beat. It was a rare sight, especially on Earth. Thousands of white dots in the sky. Millions, each one a world of its own. Becenti stopped and turned to see Joseph just staring upwards.

“A good sight, Mr. Zheng?” he asked.

“It's one I haven't seen in... in a long time,” Joseph said.

“Notice any constellations?” Becenti asked.

“Yeah. A few,” Joseph said, “Ursa Major, and Ursa Minor. I think I can make out Virgo? Ha, there's so many, it's hard to pick them out...”

The older man walked back to Joseph, staring up with him.

“Recognize anything?” Joseph asked.

“I think a few that my old man told me about,” Becenti said, “But... I can only really make out the Squatting Man, I think.”

He furrowed his brow and he continued to try to make out old stories from his childhood. After a few moments, however, he gave in with a sigh.

“We should turn in for the night,” he said.

Oliphant and Ever-True had stopped, turning to the two guildfolk. Oliphant nodded.

“Right,” he said, “We've walked long enough.”

“Should we chance a fire?” Joseph asked.

“Not a good idea,” Ever-True said, “This place is crawling with metahumans.”

“Seems lonely,” Joseph said.

“Oh dear, Mr. Zheng,” Becenti said, “You have the stars and the moon, what more could you want?”

“A bit of warmth would be nice,” Joseph said.

Becenti smirked.

“Mr. Zheng,” he said, “I was Shimmer, the Magician of the Red Wind. What do you think my powers are?”

Joseph felt himself redden a bit.

“R-Right,” he said.

The ball of heat sat in the center of their little circle. They sat in silence, a few bangs ringing in the distance, so sudden they made the hairs on Joseph's arms stand on edge. He gritted his teeth through the screaming that came after, which was cut abruptly into silence.

“So,” Joseph said, “Are we just going to sit here, in the dark?”

“Yes,” Oliphant said, “It's a dangerous place-”

“Oh, come off it,” Ever-True said, “This place gives me the creeps.”

“It is filled with metahumans,” Becenti said. He was beside Joseph, and he could barely make out the older man's silhouette, just a bit lighter than the darkness, shuffling a bit, “Nomads. Opportunists. Predators.”

“No shit,” Joseph said, “I mean, with people like Talrash out there...”

“I know,” Becenti said.

“Shimmer, what's going on?” Oliphant said.

“I told you,” Becenti said, “I'm checking the prisons.”

“I find it convenient that you're only checking this one now,” Oliphant said.

“A coincidence,” Becenti said, “Valm's no fool. He knows that the people around here will only accept a metahuman in this region, if it comes to it.”

“Not a Federation team.”

“No,” Becenti said, “And it aligns with my goals. I've already checked the Manticore and August.”

“And that's it?”

“For now,” Becenti said, “I already know that Dakos has escaped, no thanks to you.”

“That wasn't us,” Oliphant's voice became dark and defensive, “That wasn't us at all. We don't even know where your people stowed him away.”

“Neither do I,” Becenti said, “A plane near Prime, I think. But I'm not sure.”

“Dakos?” Joseph said, “Who the hell is Dakos?”

“A Martian god,” Oliphant said, “The last Martian god. Served the Manticore. Was one of the inner circle in the Sons of Darwin.”

“Let me guess,” Joseph said, “He fought in the war.”

“Yes,” Oliphant said.

“What the hell's the war?”

There was an awkward, bitter silence. Joseph got the feeling that he had said the wrong thing, but he found that he did not care.

“Look,” he said, “You keep going on about it. And you told me you'd tell me once we got to rest.”

“He doesn't know?” Ever-True said.

“...No,” Becenti said.

“You didn't read... anything at all?” Oliphant said, “It's common history.”

Joseph blinked.

“No,” he said, “I've been reading... other... things. Stuff to get me home.”

“I'm surprised,” Oliphant said, “You're working with a veteran of it, here.”

“I know,” Joseph said, “And he's been mum on it. Which, fair, it sounds like it was a bad time. But now he's dragged me out here to the middle of nowhere, and he still hasn't told me why.”

He gave a glare to Becenti.

“I know we're here to see the Visionary,” Joseph said, “To... 'apprehend' her. But you still haven't told me why. Or why she's important. Or why you're visiting the prisons, or why anything.”

“Hey,” Ever-True said, “Maybe lay off him a bit, yeah?”

Through the darkness, Joseph shot her an angry look. He could see the silhouette that was Becenti sag.

“No, it's quite alright,” Becenti said, “I'm surprised you're just asking me now, though.”

“I...” Joseph sighed, leaning back, “It's been a busy few months. And it's...”

“A sore point.”

“Yeah. And the way you act around it, made me not want to ask anyone else.”

“Well, might as well get into it,” Becenti said, “Talrash. Dakos. The Visionary. August.”

“I don't know who that last guy is,” Joseph said.

“They were members of a guild,” Becenti said, “A guild known as the Sons of Darwin.”

***

The three of them sat together in the darkness, Robber Fly striking up a small fire using the mercenary's holdout plasma pistol as a lighter, producing a small package of gel as fuel. It was an invention from Glorica, the World of Ingenuity, used in the event there was no wood around. Without fire, Robber Fly mused, what was the point of the night?

His brother would have beaten the shit out of him for that one.

Talrash was still standing, glaring imperiously down at him.

“You'll attract all sorts of dangers, setting something like that,” she said.

“With us three?” Robber Fly said, “Who'd attack us?”

“You mean us two,” Talrash said, nodding to the mercenary, “You're superfluous.”

“Gotta have someone with good looks,” Robber Fly chuckled. He took out his machine pistol and began polishing it, checking it for any damage it might have sustained earlier, “Besides, you need bait out here.”

“Hmph,” Talrash said.

“Ah, come on,” Robber Fly said, “You got hit by a bolt of lightning and had to dance like a ballerina because of that Joseph kid, but you’re fine. Sit down, relax. If we run into anyone, we'll kill 'em.”

Talrash's eye twitched. But she relented, simmering down as she sat down on the other side of the fire. The mercenary joined them. Without a word, he clicked a button on the side of his helmet, which let out a small hiss as it decompressed, before he removed it from his head. It revealed a young man, dark-skinned, with empty eyes that stared at the fire for far too long, the hair on his temple cut to a buzz, the top a series of small curls.

“What's up,” Robber Fly said.

But the mercenary ignored him.

“...Right,” Robber Fly said, “Want something to eat?”

The mercenary looked up at him. Gave a single nod. Robber Fly grinned, reaching into his pack.

“I only got granola bars and bottles of water,” he said, “Jesus, I feel like a soccer mom at a state fair.”

But nonetheless, he handed them out to the mercenary. He offered one to Talrash, who glowered at him.

“Come on,” he said, “You must be hungry.”

She took one. The sight of the god-like Talrash, the Breath of Midas, dressed like a regal queen, opening up her granola bar with bits of marshmallow and chocolate chips, was a sight Robber Fly would remember for a long time.

***

“They began,” Becenti said, “On Prime. A small organization, from what I hear, a circle of like-minded professors, philosophers, and politicians. Sons of Darwin, they called themselves. Social Darwinists. Eugenicists. Fascists, many of them holding party affiliations with the various… movements, spread across Europe.”

“Oh,” Joseph said.

“They were the earliest supervillains,” Becenti said, “Mad scientists. Nazi champions. They were in the cabinets of the Axis Powers during World War II.”

Joseph scratched his arm, feeling a creeping sense of anxiety crawl up his spine. Nai Nai had only told him stories of family back in China, her father and mother, and what they had witnessed there...

“But they lost, right?” Joseph asked, feeling all the stupider as Oliphant groaned in the darkness.

“They lost that war, if that's what you're saying,” Becenti said, “Silver Arthur, the founder of the Silver Knights, was the tip of the spear into Europe. Most of the original Sons of Darwin were either killed or captured. A few escaped. A few turned coat. A few... disappeared.”

“So what happened?” Joseph said.

“They went to the shadows,” Oliphant replied, “Went underground. Most supervillains did, during the fifties. The sixties, though...”

He glanced to Becenti.

“Do you want to do this part, or should I?”

“I will,” Becenti said, “You were just a kid during the war, weren't you?”

“Yeah, I was,” Oliphant said, “Just a kid...”

“A figure emerged from the shadows,” Becenti said, “A being known as the Manticore.”

“A being.”

“Not a man. Not a monster, despite evidence to the contrary,” Becenti said, “I... I don't know how to describe him. He had many names. The Manticore. Okuta Stone-and-Sky. The Ruler of Allworlds.”

“Humble guy,” Joseph murmured.

“He certainly was pretentious,” Becenti said.

“So… He started doing supervillain shit?”

“No,” Becenti said, “No, he did not. He took the Sons of Darwin, and formed from them a guild.”

“If you could call it that,” Oliphant muttered.

“A guild's just a legal term, right?” Ever-True said, “Any organization can be a guild, is what I've heard. The Silver Knights are technically one, right?”

“Technically,” Oliphant said, “But we don't deal with guild bullshit. We don't care about the Law of InterGuild.”

“Which is your prerogative,” Becenti said, “But Ever-True is right. A guild is simply an organization approved by the High Federation to do work in the multiverse. That can mean anything. Anything at all.”

The old man's silhouette leaned in.

“And the Law of Interguild legitimized the Sons of Darwin. Gave them a voice. Gave them work. Gave them influence. And they started taking jobs across the multiverse.”

Joseph wasn't sure what to say to that. That anxious feeling was only growing larger now, moving from his spine to the pit of his stomach, tying his soul into knots. Oliphant gave a low whisper of “Shit,” as Becenti continued.

“They grew so influential, they began taking over planets in the Silver Eye in all but name,” Becenti said, “Same with planes of existence. Vyshya became a stronghold. Dailori became a factory plane. Their guildhall was on Prime, of course. Most nations of Prime were held under their sway. They bribed politicians, assassinated rivals. It was...”

His voice became quiet. Strained.

“It was a dark time.”

***

“So,” Robber Fly said to the mercenary, “What's your deal?”

The mercenary said nothing.

“You like cards?” Robber Fly said, “Video games? All the kids like video games nowadays.”

The mercenary was silent, wringing his hands and staring at the fire.

“Oh, come on,” Robber Fly said, “You can't give us the strong and silent type forever, pal. I know you're one of them Little Stones, right? A vat baby?”

“He won't listen,” Talrash said, “Now shut up, you're annoying me.”

“Please,” Robber Fly said, “The quiet all around us is givin' me the jeebies. Let me talk, alright? It'll scare the ugly metahumans away.”

Talrash gave an annoyed huff. She stood up and walked out of the light of their campfire, standing stock-still and watching the stars wheel overhead.

“Right,” Robber Fly said, “You've gotta give me something, kid.”

The mercenary continued his usual silence.

“You're, what, twenty? Are you even legally able to drink out here?”

“That doesn't matter.”

It was the first time Robber Fly had heard him speak. The mercenary's voice was quiet and calm, like a river in winter. Without a word, Robber Fly took out a flask, a smile breaking out on his lopsided face. He presented the flask to the mercenary.

“A drink. For surviving the day.”

The mercenary considered him suspiciously, those dark eyes flitting from Robber Fly's face to the flask in hand. He took it, holding it in careful hands, uncapping the stopper and giving a sniff. His face wrinkled in disgust.

“What's in it?”

“A little brand of whiskey I call Liver Killer,” Robber Fly said, “It's got a bit of everything in it. Whiskey, rum, a bit of wine, a bit of Kilurian brandy, a pinch of rotmoth's venom...”

“I don't want to drink it.”

“What are you, chicken?” Robber Fly chuckled.

This caused the mercenary to truly glare at him. With a defiant jerk, he took in a mouthful, swallowing it down for a brief second before spluttering it back up in a coughing fit that stung the fire, causing it to flare. Robber Fly let out barks of laughter as he watched the mercenary double over and wheeze.

“Dear God!” he said, “Jesus, you're a lightweight! You're dressed like a goddamn space marine and you're a lightweight!”

He continued laughing, chuckles turning into great, ridiculous guffaws. The mercenary did nothing but glare at him.

***

“No one was sure when the battles first started,” Becenti said, “By the time the Manticore gave the orders to start attacking Federation worlds, the entirety of the Outer Reach was under his sway. He had influence over much of the known multiverse – there were very few planes where the Sons of Darwin did not at least have an outpost.”

“And he started playing for keeps,” Joseph said.

“Yes,” Becenti whispered, “For keeps.”

“The war,” Oliphant said, “The High Federation has an official name for it, I think.”

“The Darwinist Rebellion,” Becenti said.

“Here, we just call it the Manticore's War,” Oliphant said, “I like that name better. Makes it more personal.”

Joseph could feel the Silver Knight's stone glare even in the darkness, aimed at no one, past Joseph's shoulder and towards the veiled horizon.

“I was just a kid,” Oliphant said.

“I was, too,” Becenti replied, “They still sent me out.”

“I thought you volunteered,” Oliphant asked.

“When Silver Arthur himself asks you to go, what else can you do?” Becenti said, “You can't say no. Not to him. I was Shimmer, back then. Still a Native boy from the rez who thought he could be a superhero because he had superpowers, because that's what everyone with superpowers did. The funny mask. The streamers. The garish cosplay that you wore like a uniform.”

His voice had grown trembling and stuttered.

“But we won?” Joseph asked.

“We beat the Manticore, if that's what you mean,” Oliphant said, “The final battle with him obliterated the east coast and killed over a million people, but yeah. We beat the bad guys.”

“And now,” Joseph said, his voice measured, “Now there are people who want to bring him back.”

“Nothing could kill him,” Ever-True said, “So the Federation and the Silver Knights, they imprisoned him. Somewhere.”

“And Shimmer's checking the prisons,” Oliphant said, “All of them.”

“And it's not a job anymore,” Becenti said.

He didn't elaborate on that. No one prodded him further.

Above, the stars twinkled.

***

They heard movement. The mercenary looked up, putting his helmet back on. Robber Fly clicked the ammo clip of the machine pistol back in place, an easy smile on his face. Talrash turned, half-lit by the fire and cast in dusk, as she stared into the darkness. They all heard the footsteps. Two of them, by the looks of it. Staggering together, they lumbered into view. One was like the desert around them, though he was cracked and a deep welt scarred over his chest. The other looked like a mound of goo. Talrash's eyes widened in recognition.

“Meloche,” she said, “I didn't know you were out here.”

The great mound looked up. There were no eyes on this being of sap, but nonetheless Robber Fly felt like he was being watched.

“...Talrash,” he said, “Been a long time.”

“Come to steal a vision, philosopher?” Talrash said, “Come to see the future of your metahumanity? Your future Ludaya?”

The sandy being beside Meloche let out a coughing gasp.

“I don't recognize your pal,” Talrash said, “Another apprentice, Meloche? Another boy toy?”

“Nothing like that,” Meloche growled, “Nothing like that at all.”

He was putting himself between them and his companion. Robber Fly rolled his eyes.

“Tal,” he said, “Who the hell are these posers?”

“They are Meloche and friend,” the Breath of Midas said, “Look carefully, Robber Fly, you see before you a true patriot.”

“Oh ho!” Robber Fly said, “He was at that... Ludaya place, yeah?”

“Aye,” Meloche said, “We came upon this fire, and thought to rest...”

“Meloche, my poor friend,” Talrash said, “Did you really think you would find friends out here?”

“S-seemed,” the sandman said, “Seemed sporting...”

The philosopher, however, was quiet. Robber Fly switched the machine pistol's safety off.

“Please,” Meloche said, “Eco, he's injured. We need...”

“You truly are a fool,” Talrash cooed. Golden fire began dripping from her mouth, and Robber Fly found that she looked demonic in the gold’s harsh light, “A poor, idealistic foo-”

With a sudden speed that belied his mass, Meloche swung his arm, sap tearing off in a fluid motion and lobbing through the air. It landed squarely on Talrash's head, covering it completely. She let out a silent scream as her flames snuffed out. The mercenary was at her side in a moment, trying to tear the sap off of her head. Robber Fly took aim, and fired off, a storm of loud bangs echoing through the night. Meloche shielded Eco from the barrage, the bullets sinking into his form.

The mercenary glanced up, his hands covered in goo. Talrash writhed beneath him, trying to pull the sap free. With a sweeping gesture, he swooped his arm forward, heat carrying from the fire and rippling through the air like a wave, striking against Meloche, who let out a gasp of pain as the heat began steaming at his form, evaporating part of his mass.

And then the mercenary charged, right as Robber Fly finished up with his clip. He gave Meloche a single tap, before leaping back, his arm now generating tree sap.

Sap that he then applied to Talrash, combining it with the mass already suffocating her, peeling it away. She began coughing and spluttering, catching her breath.

Meloche was pulling back, his backpedaling unsteady. Eco glared at the three Sons, desert sand swirling around him as he let out a storm of gravel at the group. With a twist, the mercenary took in what little ambient heat was still in the air, forming a shield between them, the sand pelting against it as though it were a stone wall.

And Eco was already running. Meloche followed him close behind.

“Get him!” Robber Fly roared, “Get him, Domey!”

The mercenary glanced around for a moment, before spotting his discarded pistol and snatching it up. He took aim, tracking the forms of Meloche and Eco as they spirited away, Eco stumbling a bit behind them.

No doubt the mercenary had night vision. He had an aiming module in his helmet that was targeting them now. All he had to do was point the trigger. Robber Fly watched closely.

But the mercenary did not fire. Quite on the contrary, he was hesitating.

“All balls, no guts,” Robber Fly said, “Just a lightweight, aren't you?”

Talrash, however, had revenge on her mind. She watched the forms as they inked into the shadows. She took a deep breath.

The beam of gold lit up the night, carving a horizontal pillar across the desert. Metahumans throughout Death Valley saw it. A beacon to some. A warning to others. It burned through its victim, winked out almost as soon as it blazed, and the world was dark once more.

***

The four of them stared out at the line of light in the distance. Joseph felt his insides curl. Ever-True shifted uncomfortably and murmured, “Should we even be sleeping?” Oliphant and Becenti, however, said nothing. Oliphant stood up a bit, and Joseph watched as he drew forth his blade. Even in the darkness, it seemed to glimmer, taking in the starlight and reflecting it, smooth as a quiet lake, as though it were newly polished.

But nothing came for them. It was just another skirmish out in the wasteland. Still, Oliphant did not lower his guard.

“We'll keep watch,” he said, “I'll go first.”

“No,” Becenti said, “I will.”

Oliphant was quiet.

“Fine, then,” he said, “Wake me after a couple of hours.”

It was difficult to fiddle around with the sleeping bags in the dark. Joseph squinted, using more touch than sight as he felt around for the zipper, hearing its rip as he peeled it. His dad had once compared it to peeling a banana, and he felt a bitter pang at the memory as he clambered in and curled up.

There was no fire. There was only the moon, and the stars, and Myron Becenti's silhouette as he sat by the rippling ball of heat. After a moment, the man removed his heating stone from a pocket, activating it, the orange glow faint. It deepened the lines on his face, somehow made him seem older, despite the fact that he was only in his sixties.

Oliphant and Ever-True had positioned themselves a bit of a ways from them. He could hear Oliphant whispering to his teammate, so low that Joseph couldn't make out anything, but just raspy enough that it made his stomach tingle. He wondered if the Silver Knight would get any sleep, any at all.

“Go to sleep, Mr. Zheng,” Becenti said, “It's been a busy day.”

“I know,” Joseph said, “I... I don't know.”

“You did well today,” Becenti said, “It's not every day that one can stand against someone like Talrash.”

“Yeah,” Joseph murmured. Then, “It's going to get worse as we go, isn't it?”

“Only the most powerful, the most ruthless, the most lucky of us will get to the Visionary,” Becenti said, “That's it.”

Joseph didn't answer that. In the distance, they heard screams. What sounded like popping sounds. Then more silence.

“So, this is your home plane,” Joseph said at length, “Prime, the World of Heroes. Right?”

“Yes,” Becenti said, “I lived in the Navajo Nation in northern Arizona. My father was a mechanic. He would make my brother and I help him in his shop.”

“What was your brother like?” Joseph asked.

“His name was Quincy,” Becenti said, “He's... not around anymore.”

A sore point. Joseph didn't push further.

“What about you, Mr. Zheng?” Becenti said, “This is Prime, the plane most like your Earth, right? Down to a lot of the locations. What's your impression of it so far?”

“I mean, aside from the fact that everyone here is trying to kill me, it's not so bad,” Joseph said, “A bit hot, mostly because you chose to take me to the fucking hottest place on the planet.”

“True,” Becenti said.

Joseph shifted.

“Still,” he said, “It's nice. It's got the same vibe as back home.”

“Mmm,” Becenti said, “Mr. Zheng, can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” Joseph said.

“What's your family like?”

“...They're a family.”

“Just a family?” Becenti said, “You seem rather set on getting back to Earth, if they're 'just a family.'”

“Lay off me, alright?” Joseph said, temper flaring, “I... Look, I want to get home because... it's home, you know?”

“Indeed,” Becenti said, “It's familiar.”

“Yeah,” Joseph said, “It's Seattle. It’s San Francisco, too. It's the sounds of the beach. It's knowing where you are, and not getting cast out every which way.”

“Some would find that exhilarating,” Becenti said, “There's a reason Nash isn't at Castle Belenus for long.”

“And it is,” Joseph said, “It's... this has been the craziest few months of my life. I've seen shit no one on Earth ever will. But... I want a home, somewhere I can go back to after a long day.”

Becenti didn't say anything to that. Joseph rolled a bit.

“Look, I was the youngest,” Joseph said, “And not by a few years. I was the surprise baby. The one they weren't planning on. So either they were telling me to become a doctor, or they weren't giving me the time of day.”

“I see.”

“But still, I was the one doing all the work for them. Dad’s a doctor, Mom’s always out. So it was me getting the groceries for them. Getting the car done for them. Joseph, do this, Joseph, do that. Joseph, go to Nai Nai's house because she's dead and get sucked into another dimension.”

“And… That’s why you want to go home,” Becenti said.

“I mean, I guess?” Joseph said, “They're my family. I love them, and they love me.”

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. There was a distance in Joseph's voice, something raw that he had never truly shown Becenti, even in the darkest moments aboard the space station, or on Chliofrond. Perhaps Joseph realized this, as he gave a harsh chuckle.

“What's that phrase?” he said, “You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Becenti said, “I've found, through my years, that kinship can go far past simple biology.”

“'Blood is thicker than water,' my dad used to say,” Joseph said.

“That's actually a misinterpretation,” Becenti said, “People get that phrase completely wrong.”

“Well, what is it then?”

He could feel Becenti's eyes on him. Old. Stone-like. Calm, and surprisingly kind.

“'The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,'” he said, “The bonds we make in life, the friends we make on the road, that's what's important.”

“To the point of family,” Joseph mumbled.

“Do you have any of those kind of people back on Earth?” Becenti said.

Joseph mulled it over, rolling the question around in his head. No one came to mind, not really. When he thought of home, he thought of the city. The sea. Running down the beaches of San Fran. He thought of the never-ending present of Seattle, with everyone living their own lives, the acquaintances he made, the passing relationships in the rain.

But no one person came to mind.

“What about you?” he said, “How many friends have been family to you?”

“Many,” Becenti said, “I've had many families, Mr. Zheng. My biological family. My family in the Silver Knights. My family during the war. My family with the guild.”

Joseph was quiet at that. The two of them rested there, Becenti staring at the stars, Joseph curled up, his eyes glancing at the ground, a frown now painted on his face. His heart hammered with realizations, ones he was not ready to face.

Not now.

Not with everything going on out here.

So, like his anger, like his frustration, he forced it down deep into the pit of his stomach. It came like bitter food to his soul, a nasty bit of poison that it snapped at and circuited through his veins and settled in his bones. Oliphant and Ever-True had fallen silent, and he felt a bit embarrassed at the thought that these veritable strangers had listened in on their conversation.

“It's getting late, Mr. Zheng,” Becenti said, “I suspect that one of us will wake you when it's your turn to keep watch.”

“Right,” Joseph said, “Good night, Becenti.”

“Good night, Mr. Zheng.”