“What are you actually hoping to do with that thing?” Orson sat at the sensor console. The monitor scrolled with text and simple schematics that held none of his attention.

Jaleel and Dr. Stan leaned around the table. They’d rolled a heavy plastic sheet across it and set the Jim head in the center, sunglasses over the eyes. The back of the android’s head was open with translucent wires trailing out and across the table.

“We’re learning,” Jaleel said, without looking away.

“There better not be any space-android goo seeping through onto the table.” Orson looked back to the monitor’s scrolling writing.

He read.

The Starbird-class supercarrier boasts three nuclear ionization reactor cores, with power enough to support full atmospheric repulsors, four Smith & Kelly dual-shield generators, and twelve U-Cannon batteries, among other systems…

“I think this work could prove useful to all of us,” Dr. Stan said. “And if nothing else, we have little to do while we wait here. I’m helping contribute to Jaleel’s education.”

“How are either of you even doing real work with that thing?” Orson turned away from the text again. “I mean, you’re really knowledgeable, Doc, but this head situation… It’s not all that relevant to oceanography.”

“It isn’t.” Dr. Stan wore surgical gloves and reached two fingers into the back of the android’s open cranium. She drew her fingers back and held a small metal disk between them, still attached to the insides of the head by a thread as thin as fishing line. “But the deep sea probes we used were IHSA, and many of those had technology from devices they… borrowed. Just like our friend here.”

“Yeah,” Jaleel said. “Don’t doubt Dr. Stan! I didn’t even finish high school. And I build all kinds of things.”

“You still have the child prodigy factor,” Orson said. “Once you’re twenty-five or so, we won’t give you the benefit of the doubt anymore.”

“Twenty-five is when childhood ended for you?” Dr. Stan pulled the disk from the back of the head. The fishing-line cord slid free. “I thought – with what I know about you – you would’ve considered yourself an adult at a younger age.”

“I thought I grew up when I left home.” Orson glanced back to the screen. It now displayed schematics and diagrams, floor plans, and intertwined lines he couldn’t follow. Orson shut off the monitor. “But I think I was still really a kid until I was travelling alone.”

“Why are you being cryptic and depressing?” Jaleel asked. “I thought Fire Girlfriend was supposed to call you again.”

“Any minute now,” Orson nodded. “But… I’m thinking about the situation with the Alliance. I don’t want to start another war. I expected Helmont to come after us, not start playing invader. I guess we spanked him too publicly. He has to make a show of things.” Orson joined them at the table as they continued their work, untangling the wires from the back of the android’s head.

“Whenever Enoa’s up to work again,” Orson whispered. “We’ll need to get ahold of Eloise. We have to get those last three pages Sucora left behind. Based on what Sucora said in the video, there should be a section written in their store’s inventory system that tells you how to get to the island. I want to compare notes with what we already have.”

“She didn’t even eat anything today.” Jaleel whispered too, but his usual easy humor was gone from the words. “That can wait.”

“It can,” Orson said. “But not for long. We don’t know if we’ll have time later. We can’t know when our next downtime will be. And another thing, before we go to fight the Liberty Corps, we’ll need to find somewhere to go with him.” He pointed to the head.

“I’m not just getting rid of him,” Jaleel said.

“I didn’t tell you to get rid of him,” Orson spoke before Jaleel could continue. “I said, we need somewhere to go with him. Because I’m not having a remote weapon of our enemies looking around my ship when I’m fighting. I’ve been tracked before, but I never willingly took a tracker along with me.”

“I don’t believe he will be a tracker,” Dr. Stan said. “And I don’t believe he will necessarily be theirs when we’re finished here. We are removing the modifications and restarting him as his own model.”

“Oh great,” Orson said. “I’m happy he’ll get to be his own man or his own machine, but that doesn’t mean who he really is will be safe to keep around with us.”

“I’m working with him now to help you,” Jaleel said. “He could wait, but you need him.”

“Uh…” Orson looked between Jaleel and the disembodied head spreading oily wires all over his table. “Thanks. I appreciate that, but I can’t imagine how.”

“He has the Liberty Corps combat procedures in his memory,” Dr. Stan said. “And that includes procedures and techniques inherited from earlier organizations. He has everything from—”

The phone rang before she could fully explain. The classic tinny chime could just be heard through the ship’s external mic.

“I do appreciate this,” Orson said. “Again. Even if I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He pointed toward Enoa’s bunk. “If she comes out, let her know how worried I am too. Please.”

He shut off her external mic, cycled the side door open and found the barn empty, dinner long since cleared away. He closed the door behind him, crossed to the phone and picked it up.

“Hey, how are you?” he answered.

“I’m good.” Sirona chuckled in his ear. “How was your day? I hope you got to be a more restful fugitive than the last time you were hiding out.”

“You know me,” he said. “I always find some way to miss out on a good night’s sleep.”

“Oh, I remember,” she said. “I was usually the reason for your lost sleep.”

“It wasn’t lost,” he said. “It was just later. The best sleep of my life was with you. It was a good morning’s sleep instead.”

“More like a good afternoon’s sleep,” she said. “I’d be going to work and you’d still be totally worn out. No wonder they thought you were my paramour. I left you so tired, you weren’t up until the evening.”

“Nothing like that today,” he said. “Just a lot of shit hitting the fan. Hopefully I can just talk to you for the rest of my night and then rest for real.”

“I know that voice!” She spoke with mock annoyance. “This is the worst kind of night, where I come back from work and you’re tired from some other dumb adventure. Then I’m awake alone, with you dead weight in my bed. I spent half my day finding information for you and you better not fall asleep on me now. This is work time, not ‘use Sirona’s voice as a lullaby’ time.”

“After all this, I’m not going to miss out on the chance to talk,” he said. “But it’s been a long day, even after everything yesterday. It’s… a relief to hear you.”

“I can see through your sweet-talking, Orson Gregory, but you’re pretty good at it.” There came the sound of rustling pages. “But you will still owe me for all of my detective work today.”

“Did I pull you away from your real work?” Orson asked. “It was Saturday, today, right?”

“Do you forget the day of the week because it’s not part of your wayfarer lifestyle?” she asked. “Or because you’re disoriented low-sleep Orson?”

“Both, of course.” He’d forgotten the subtleties of her speech, how she could voice concern and her sharp humor in the same words.

“I have the Twelfth Form Scroll for you,” she continued. “I have Knightschurch information. I have Dreamside Road information. I have some Helmont backstory and you’ll love that. I visited Gertrude and we pulled out boxes of really dusty old notes and letters. I can’t believe them. The poor lady’s cottage looked like a sandstorm had gone by outside. She mustn’t have looked at those since you and I were kids. But… They’re from right after Mr. Montgomery died and about the woman who killed him.”

“Who also killed most of the original key-holders.” Orson lowered his voice. “And my crewmember’s parents. And a bunch of other people I never heard of.”

“Is that the crew issue from last night?” Sirona asked. “You stole more information than you expected?”

“The crew issue caused us to discover it,” Orson said.

“I thought it was connected. You sound distracted. Not just tired.”

“I’m no good at helping with this stuff,” Orson said. “The crewmember, Enoa, she won’t eat. I haven’t even really seen her today. The other young crewmember’s not taking it well either.”

“Are they an item?” she asked. “The youngest members of the Aesir crew usually hook up. It’s tradition.”

“You and me don’t make a tradition,” Orson said. “Nothing would’ve happened if it was anybody else but you with me on that first adventure. And them – the kids – I don’t know. I can’t see it. They seem too different.”

“Teddy ships them,” Sirona said. “He thinks they have chemistry.”

“Teddy ships everyone with someone,” Orson said. “He’s a regular granny. It’s a little bizarre. Meanwhile, I just can’t believe we’re still dusting off old secrets, after all these years.”

“Those generations spent seventy years making secrets,” she said. “Some built on centuries of legends. That’s a lot to figure out. I’m sorry for your friend, by the way. That’s a difficult thing. Didn’t she know?”

“She didn’t,” Orson said. “Thought it was some kind of accident that caused their deaths. Which it might’ve been. God knows that generation loved telling half the truth, and that goes for our friends too. If Ophion ever told me the full explanation of anything the world would’ve ended.”

“Ended sooner?” She laughed.

“I hate the whole ‘end of the world’ thing,” he said. “This was more like a society falling apart. That’s happened lots of times, right? Didn’t Rome fall two or three different times? It’s not like we’re living in a nuclear winter.”

“Not unless your new friends in that battleship try to cause one.” She said the last without a trace of humor. “Did you join Pops’s secret brain trust today?”

“Yeah, he was insistent,” Orson said. “He has some plan about cutting off power to the old Hierarchia guns in the mountains. He wants me to float in and help shut them down. Pops will moan about my plans being shit and then he comes out with something just as nuts.”

“Yeah, that’s actually stupid,” Sirona said. “Helmont doesn’t want a war now. He wants attention. Or he wants you. This is about what you did. This is you.”

“What will people think?” Orson asked. “Helmont’s starting a war, but you say it’s all about some guy you dated years ago. The baron’s really after your ex-boyfriend? People will think you’re pretty obsessed with me too.”

“Well, I did invest a lot in you,” she answered. “Your success is partly my success. People will say, ‘well no wonder she liked him. No wonder she thought so much of him. Look how he saved all those people yesterday. He fought to free those people. He’s a hero. He’s a normal man who made himself into the kind of hero we thought only lived in stories. But he’s real. And we forget that people can do that kind of thing for real. And no wonder Helmont hates him. The attacking overlord always hates the hero adventurer’.”

“I don’t…” Orson stammered. “I’m not sure if I’d call myself that.”

“Plus, I will have fun with the hero owing me,” she continued. “And you do. I spent all of today with those dusty boxes, Orson! And May Day is almost here, but I didn’t prepare for that. All I did was help some guy I dated years ago. Of course, I’ve never let anyone else live in my rooms for five years, but that just means you owe me more. You moved out, so I revoked your privileges.”

“You will get a favor from the guy who robbed the big Hierarchia remnant,” Orson said. “Not everyone has that.”

“And I didn’t already have your favor?” She snorted. “Anyway, I couldn’t answer Pops’s call – and not just because I have a real business to run, instead of the cover operations he puts together.

“I got the Marshal Call today, Orson, early this morning actually, before the Liberty Corps even destroyed that Alliance plane. They already knew something was coming.”

“Franklin suspected that,” Orson said. “You’re not going to accept it, are you? The Hierarchia’s gone! The Alliance has no legal way to go after the hidden communities. That’s bold of them even to ask you.”

“They have no way to come after us now,” she said. “Who knows what tomorrow will bring? People might decide to bother someone who can make fire from the air, but they’re not as likely to bother the person who fought side-by-side with them on their worst day. And we’re still part of this society. We’re citizens of the Alliances now.

“And the Liberty Corps will eventually come for us. They’ll want more test subjects like the people you freed. And we’re more prepared to protect everyone else from these Shapers than your average person with a gun and a few months of basic training. So I held a vote last year, all one hundred and seventeen truce protectorates. We got a simple majority, only three votes more than we needed. There’s less support without the Hierarchia Administrators in the world. But I intend to keep to that agreement.”

“How does that work?” Orson asked. “You get to be part of the strategy, right? You wouldn’t just go where the Alliance sends you?”

“Me?” she laughed. “Please. But I don’t know what it will be or what they plan. I still think this new Liberty Corps play is about you, but I intend to keep to the agreement regardless. Today I worked for you because I wanted to help you. And because this is all really about the Dreamside Road. And because you’re a bigger enemy to Helmont than the Alliance is. You’re his biggest threat of all, you and your crew. This isn’t a time for armies. This isn’t about numbers. This is a time for heroes, for individuals.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “It’s a time for wayfarers, and you can beat this baron just like you beat Calder. And whatever you did yesterday, I think he suspects that.”

“I don’t know about that.” Orson felt warmth spread up his cheeks. “No one can build me up like you can. Thank you.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“I know you’ve earned it.” She said, self-satisfied. “I made sure you earned it. Just like you earned the help of everyone who wants fewer men like Helmont in this world. Not that I’ll forget all the hard work I put into you.”

“Hey, I’d pay you back now. If I was…” Orson began, but he remembered the miles of Hierarchia metal moving through the sky, a ship of a kind that had turned whole deserts to glass. “If I wasn’t hiding,” he corrected. “I could be with you in an hour. I’d show you how much I appreciate you… But—”

“Terrible!” she interrupted. “You hear my voice twice in years and you’re already having lewd thoughts about me.”

“Maybe you’re reading into what I say?” He said with accusation. “Huh? Maybe I plan on doing household work for your business? I can still clean the gutters or whatever, even without the boot. I’ll hang out the window of the Aesir. Or I could—”

“I’m sure that’s what you meant,” she said. “I was happy to help you today. We have a lot to talk about tonight, but tomorrow is for the truce and the promise.” Her voice became entirely serious again. “For the Alliances and our agreement. I’m going to rally my people for the Marshal Call and battle against the Liberty Corps.”

* * *

Operative Divenoll watched the Balor Atoll grow through the transport’s window. It was a green dot, ringed by gray and surrounded by endless blue. It was a lonely spit of land in the ocean. The Hierarchia had kept their own little island, not hidden, but omitted from record. Its work was classified, off everyone’s books but Helmont’s.

The rest of the troop transports swung down toward the island and the waiting battle group. Only the Saw-wings stayed airborne. They kept their defensive pattern.

Divenoll sat in a row alone, situated between two groups of Shaper schools. Sir Vergil and his students sat ahead of him. Their armor was plain white like any officers’, but each student and their master wasted an extra seat for their immense swords.

Sir Jarod and his contingent sat behind Divenoll. All wore their flowing, dark cloaks and spoke to one another in short whispers.

“I repeat.” Helmont’s voice projected through the ship’s intercom. “We will disembark directly into our assigned craft. Remain with your transfer group. Proceed only when ordered.”

Divenoll got a brief look at the Balor Battle Group. The LCS Balor fighter carrier waited at the center of the formation, docked at a point where the atoll curved as it met the sea. The island embraced the ship that shared its name.

There were eight other ships around it – strictly seafaring vessels. There were also two small shapes where submarines had breached the water.

A whole assembly of sailors waited on the ships. Even airborne, the motion of so many people was unmistakable.

Divenoll recognized their black IHSA uniforms. They were a true remnant, passed directly from one power to another.

“Have you seen it before?” Sir Geber found the seat beside him. One of his own few students followed after him. Both held their helmets in their hands, antennas twitching.

“No,” Divenoll said. “I didn’t get the field work. And it wasn’t my office. I was strictly recovery.”

“Of course.” Geber nodded. “They really don’t look too special, do they?” He spoke under his breath. “More antiques.”

“More antiques that can carry our air support and landing ships,” Divenoll said. “And the main weapon.”

“The experimental main weapon,” Geber said. “But you’re right, as usual. Of our assets, this is the best. We’ll be at Knightschurch in a few days. And once we have the key there, we can solve the island problem. Then only seven more.”

“Seven more and we know where three of them are,” Divenoll said. “Two with Gregory and one with his bitch. She’s not moving and he’ll come to us. Then we’re at half. We should’ve done this years ago, and spent less time trying to perfect the drill.”

“I thought you supported the drill project?” Geber asked. “That was your office.”

“It was.” Divenoll nodded. “Because we were too scared of breaking the truce with the old man and his carnival act to pursue the keys. But we should have done this, instead of spending millions trying to tune the drill.”

“Sir Jarod and his students will transfer first.” Helmont spoke again. “They need to acquaint themselves with their new station for launch at 0900 tomorrow.”

The view through the transport window realigned with the earth. They halted on a landing pad, marked in yellow. Jarod and his team all stood. They adjusted their cloaks and stopped their muttering.

Through the window, Divenoll could see the ‘IHSA’ written in white across the chests of the Balor Team who assembled on the landing pad. Somewhere far ahead, there was a hiss as the outer hatch cycled open.

Geber pulled a small wristwatch out of his jumpsuit’s sleeve and adjusted it so the face was visible beyond the edge of his gauntlet.

“That isn’t standard issue,” Divenoll said.

“It’s not. It’s a trophy.” Geber fiddled with the watch again, but offered no other explanation. “Maros.”

“What?” Divenoll asked.

“The Maros brothers,” Geber explained. “They got away, both of them. And they aren’t in Gregory’s crew. They’re gone. The Alliance must already have them. Without the Czar… They could both be dead. Instead… We might never find them.”

“We’ll find them,” Divenoll said. “They’ll get involved. They won’t be hiding traitors. They’re not going to go to ground. They will commit to their new cause. They’ll believe it and they will help the Alliance. I’m sure about it. We will see them soon.”

“Maybe.” Geber stood again and set his helmet on his head. The antennas spun in slow circles, as if stretching. His student imitated the action. “But we will have a war between now and finally killing them.”

“We will.” Divenoll stood with him. Sir Jarod’s force walked ahead, first to disembark. “But that’s better. Kol Maros betrayed us. His brother spied on us and for no reason. When we finally collect these keys and when everyone else is dead, we’ll pull them from the rubble and end this.”

Divenoll placed his own helmet on his head. Once Jarod’s team had passed, he joined the line out of the transport.

* * *

“All these updates and I almost forgot to tell you ‘hi’ from Gertrude.” Now Sirona yawned, a great, luxurious yawn pulled Orson from the conversation. He noticed the moon had risen into view since he’d answered the phone.

“How is she doing?” Orson asked. “I think she was in her seventies already when I met her. And I probably haven’t seen her in… I don’t know how long.” Had he seen the former proprietor since Sirona’s own appointment to the position? He hadn’t seen any of those people since he’d parted ways from the inn, from Sirona and that chapter of his life.

“I think she’s enjoying her freedom. She doesn’t need to worry about rallying hundreds of people trying to stay under the radar or worry about wackos showing up to attack the place or the day-to-day problems running the business.”

“So all the stuff you have to worry about now?” Orson asked.

“Basically.” Then there came the sound of more pages. “Teddy also says ‘hi’. He’s very happy that your passengers enjoyed the tots. I saw Embre posted a bulk order through the co-op, all tater tots for the clan of Yll Banis.”

“Yep, Ted’s really started something.”

“Moving on, I think I have Theta’s birth name – Berit Arveig. She was one of the Tempestarii. They studied and influenced air and weather patterns. But Arveig would’ve been too young to have the formal initiation. The trained family members were killed off about twenty-some years before she was born, during the Second World War. Looks like they thought Sucora Cloud’s Anemos was the next best thing and sent her for training.”

“Damn,” Orson said. “You should’ve seen the pictures of the fight with her and Sucora Cloud. Green sky – some crazy stuff. And Sucora is holding baby Enoa in the picture of the fight. From the look of it, I’m surprised Sucora let Theta survive, or even that she could survive. How many of these freaking Administrators are still running around?”

“Nation’s predecessor,” Sirona said. “I would’ve been twelve… or thirteen maybe, when Thet tried to collect the keys. She sounds really powerful.”

“I fought somebody like that,” Orson said. “In the north of Spain, when I was on my way to Ophion’s old place in Florence. This guy tried to kill me with wind blasts and lightning, but he wasn’t throwing around hail the size of a house.”

“The second mystery,” Sirona said. “The elements of the world – like me! What other pictures were in that?”

“The people who died,” Orson said. “And Theta and her posse. Oh! And there were a couple of me. Me fighting, me getting arrested, me kissing you – the standard Orson Gregory photo set.”

“Us kissing? Ew.” She made a noise in the back of her throat. “Who was spying on us?”

“Omega’s guys.” Orson thought of the day, the ring of IHSA forces around the Aesir. “Or Nation’s. It was from the first time.”

“Awww,” she cooed. “I want a copy. Baby Orson and Sirona! I only just started to like you then. You hadn’t totally won me over.”

“The kiss didn’t hurt,” Orson said. “And I was very brave when I fought Omega.”

“It wasn’t bad for a fake kiss,” she said. “You were very cocky dodging and jabbing at Omega. Still, you got me over my fear of the Administrators. He looked so constipated shooting his lightning at you. You were already pretty fit then too, so it was a nice contrast to him looking ridiculous. If you’d actually won, I would’ve really kissed you.”

“I did win.”

“Eh.” She sighed. “You really didn’t. You won using a weakness you didn’t know was there. But you had potential. You’d beat him now. I’ll give you that. If you can survive yesterday… Oh, I almost forgot!” There was a faster rustle of papers.

“I need a drumroll,” she said. “Before it’s too late. We need to go to the fun stuff. This is golden.”

“Okay.” Orson drummed his fingers on the table beside the phone. “How’s that? What’s up?”

“Grover!” Sirona shouted. “Helmont’s real name is Grover! Grover Melledge, Jr. – he’s the son of this Admiral who took on a Colonial Lord Commandant position. That might make Helmont a baron for real. But it’s perfect. When you tell him it’s over, like you do, it’ll be perfect.”

“What do you mean, when I tell him it’s over?”

“You know,” she said. “You have to know. There’s no way you do it without knowing. It’s one of your two signature moves. You have the ‘it’s over’ announcement and you have the punch on the nose. You always do those.”

“When is always?”

“Do you want the examples in order or should I list the most important fights first? You said ‘it’s over’ to Kappa and punched his weird manservant guy – what was his name, Braygun? You punched him in the face. A year later, you said ‘it’s over’ and punched the Lockshaw heir and then Josiah Grenning and then that bounty hunter Grenning sent after you and then—”

“Okay,” Orson said. “I guess I’ll have to stop doing that now.”

“No!” She called. “You can’t stop. I love it! You have to say it to Helmont – to Grover! Doesn’t he take himself super seriously? It’ll hurt him so much. It’s over, Grover!”

“I don’t think I want to say that,” Orson said. “It sounds like the name of a children’s book. I don’t know. Do I really do that all the time?”

“Ask your new crew. I bet you still do it. And you have to do it this time. It’s too perfect. But we can come back to that. Gods, we could use Haydn looking through these notes. I’m so slow at reading shorthand and poor Gertrude practically needs a magnifying glass to see her husband’s writing now. It’s like Bryce thought writing small would make him more secretive.”

“Yeah, I’m no help with that.” Orson leaned against the wall beside the phone.

“You might actually be slower than I am. Which is weird. You had pretty good penmanship when you were actively in your swordsman training. But I bet you’re not keeping up with that.”

“I still don’t get why Ophion made me take handwriting lessons.”

“Because keeping a steady hand is important,” she said. “And because it’s part of the curriculum. And because I don’t get to see you rebel against tradition if there’s no tradition to annoy you.”

“I fight with a damn sword, not the toothpick-ass poker Helmont carries.”

“I don’t know.” She spoke with skepticism. “The rapier is arguably the most dangerous European sword. You don’t want a cavalry piece to fight him. It looks like someone needs to go back to calligraphy practice.”

“I almost got inside his guard yesterday,” Orson said. “I’m more worried about his flying powers than his choice of sword.”

“Before we get too caught up with you complaining,” she said. “After Theta’s attack, the keys were retrieved by Ophion and given out to their next owners at the old inn in New Rotterdam. Ophion was there. Your friend’s Aunt Sucora was there too. Most of the new key-holders only stopped by, but Sir Merrill and Ophion met them all.”

“I guess we can’t get ahold of Ophion, can we?” Orson asked.

“I can put out feelers,” she said.

“What does that mean?” Orson asked. “Don’t play coy with me, Birgham. Don’t let the old man keep secrets from me. I could’ve solved this crap about a year ago with a decent letter from him.”

“I have a way to leave messages,” she said slowly. “Sometimes he picks them up. Sometimes they stay there a year or more without any attention. I can’t say more than that. I wouldn’t have said more even when we were together.”

“Yes, you would. You told me everything.”

“Okay fine,” she conceded. “I would’ve told you, but mostly because it would’ve been too much of a hassle not to. I would’ve needed to wait until you were sleeping to write the message or make you leave my rooms. I’d have to keep you from following me into the woods. Just… Way too big of a pain. But maybe you can talk to this Sir Merrill. He should also know all of the key holders.”

“That would be convenient.” They’d done so much to recover the island’s coordinates, to find another key and bring Enoa to a proper teacher, but she was in no state to learn. “I don’t know when we’ll be going there.”

“Sir Merrill’s knowledge will actually be about twenty years old,” Sirona corrected herself. “That’s not the same thing as knowing everyone now, but hopefully it’s a help. So you get to him, he can give you the rest… if you can persuade him. That’s the other thing, it turns out Sir Merrill and Ophion did not get along. And Gertrude doesn’t know if it’s just a personality thing or if there’s a real reason behind it.”

“That’s not good,” Orson said. “I’ve had more than my share of people hating me for something random like that.”

“You have,” she chuckled. “But you’re also good at winning people over if you really try to do it. I say that from personal experience.”

“It was a lot of work to win you over. You attacked me! If a couple of those kicks had landed our relationship might’ve gone a lot different.”

“I’m sorry.” She had an exaggerated catch in her voice. “That was so long ago and you still always bring it up. Always. I was wrong one time and you never let it go.”

“Wrong?” Orson said. “Man, we really are in a time of danger and impossible things. Sirona wrong?”

“That’s really why I gave you a chance.” Her voice changed, now aloof, almost smug. “Once I realized I was wrong about that strange, loud boy, I thought maybe I should take a closer look. And like I said, you were getting pretty fit from all those people trying to kill you. And from my training. What would my life have been without the strange, loud man you became?”

“A lot quieter?” Orson offered. “Less strange?”

“I used to think so. For a long time I did, but… It’s been just as loud and just as dangerous without you. It seems like it’ll be this way no matter who I have in my life so…” She cleared her throat.

“That reminds me,” she continued. “We need to talk about the second edition of your memoir! It was really sweet of you to be private about some of what happened, but you didn’t land us. You really didn’t. I’m like this stoic badass in your book, which is cool, but I think we’d be more popular a little closer to how we actually are. We’re hilarious. We could sell some books.”

“I’m not totally sure if I’m doing any more of the memoir stuff,” Orson said. “I’m not very happy with how the first edition turned out.”

“April says your biographer has been spending all the years since destabilization practicing his writing and he’s really good now.”

“I don’t know…” Orson said. “A second edition sounds like a lot of work.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” she said. “We need to seriously figure out how we’re preparing for this Liberty Corps thing. I have the Twelfth Form Scroll. I have some of your other swordsman books, but that won’t work over the phone.”

“Yeah.” Orson followed the phone’s cord from the handset to the wall. “How secure is this connection? All we need is some Liberty Corps bug on the local phone line.”

“Oh, it’s private,” she said. “It’s run totally independent of any other network. If they intercept this call, it’s over anyway. Actually, I better pack it in for the night. I’m very flattered you stayed awake to talk to me so long, but I have that long drive tomorrow. I have my big recruitment meeting out of state. I can’t fight the Liberty Corps without the pilot I want. He’s a handful and everybody else wants the guy too. So I’ll need to be extra persuasive. But I think he’s worth it.”

“Sounds like a jerk,” Orson said.

She laughed in answer, a real, full laugh. “He can be,” she said. “Sometimes. But he makes up for it with some other qualities. And he has the best ship. Everyone knows it.”

“Listen,” Orson said. “I don’t want to intrude or anything. You go meet with whoever you want, but let’s be clear about something. I don’t know this guy or his ship, but you’re not gonna find a better ship than the Aesir. You’re not. I don’t care what other qualities this guy has.” Orson pictured a sleek airship, like the investors’ flashy armored shuttles at the Solar Saver. He pictured a pilot in new, spotless gear like Sebastian Royce.

“The Aesir… is the best,” she said. “Wait. What are you talking about? Are you…”

“It’s okay,” Orson interrupted. “We can figure out the scroll thing another time. You have a good night’s sleep. We can talk later if you get the chance. I really should brush up on that twelfth method thing. I’ve fought a bunch of swords that can withstand mine over the years, but probably not that specific form. But without somebody else who knows the form, the scroll will only be partly useful.”

“We can help you train.” Jaleel spoke suddenly. Orson turned toward the sound.

Jaleel stood in the Aesir’s open doorway. The Jim android stood behind him, whole and head attached. The automaton wore a Las Vegas 51s T-shirt and a Route 66 baseball cap. Dr. Stan stood further back in the ship, a weak smile on her face.

“I’m sorry be a Samwise right now,” Jaleel said. “But I have an idea! We do!”

Jim raised his right hand in a wave. He grinned maniacally. “Hello!”

“What’s up?” Sirona asked. “Orson, are you still there?”

“I’m here,” Orson answered. “My first mate’s just sneaking up on me.”

“First mate?” Jaleel looked awestruck. “Hello from First Mate to Fire Girlfriend.”

“Did he just call me Fire Girlfriend?” she asked. “You have mentioned my name, right?”

“Yeah,” Orson said. “Of course I have. He’s just being funny. He knows your name and the fact we’re not, uh, romantically… uh, linked anymore.”

“Not romantically linked?” she asked. “Did no one ever tell you it’s very cruel to lead people on? All night you make your suggestive comments…”

“I’m not…” Orson began.

“Ask your first mate if you say ‘it’s over’ when you fight people,” Sirona said.

“Do I say ‘it’s over’ when I fight people?” Orson asked.

“You said it to Nalrik and Governor Sloan,” Jaleel said. “Why? Is it like a regular catch phrase?”

“Tell him Helmont’s name,” Sirona whispered in his ear.

“I don’t want to,” Orson whispered back.

“What’s going on?” Jaleel asked.

“Tell him,” Sirona commanded.

Orson groaned. “She wants me to tell you that Helmont’s real name is Grover.”

“It’s over, Grover!” Jaleel cheered. “That’s amazing. That’s the best news of the whole day. I can’t wait. Once you have enough practice with Jim, you’ll be ready to go. It’ll be over for Grover.”

“Practice with… Jim?” Orson asked.

“Yeah.” Jaleel talked faster, like the speed of the words would stop Orson from interrupting. “I was just taking Jim for a walk and I couldn’t help hearing you talking. This was the perfect opening. Jim can train with you though. He knows all the forms. They’re all in his head and he can use my fire extinguisher. It can take on the sword, remember!”

“What’s he saying now?” Sirona asked.

“I don’t totally know,” Orson answered. “But maybe I will need that scroll.”

Jim grinned at Orson and stood with one arm forward, the other behind his back, in a flamboyant fencing pose. Then he shouted. “En garde!”