He leaned back against the pilot’s seat, sighing. He felt like he was flying--or rather, being flown by--a ship constructed entirely out of irony.

Years ago, he’d stolen the first Nighthawk from Soldato’s base, shipping himself and the Marionettes to effectively infiltrate the base. It had been a splendid fighter, despite not really being designed for battle as much as stealth and reconnaissance.

Its successor shared the original’s stealth capabilities and its reflective obsidian outer plating, but that was it. How long had it been since he’d thought of the old ship? How long ago had it been since he’d watched it destroyed? A while, for certain.

He found he missed it quite a lot in this moment, not because he was in any way sentimental, but at least he could actually fly the ship. The Nighthawk II flew itself--if Kienan needed to take manual control, something had gone very wrong. Everything had been planned, rationed with care, and very critical decision was out of his hands.

The logic of it made no more sense now than it did when it was explained to him.

“It’s a different sort of craft than the first Nighthawk, Kienan,” he remembered Soldato saying as they paced around the sleek black spacecraft. “The Nighthawk II is a “deep striker.” It’s built for long-range undetectable infiltration. One long shot, you might say.”

Kienan’s eyes slid over the glittering black armor of the ship. “I don’t see any gun ports or weapon mounts.”

”There aren’t. The Nighthawk II doesn’t have any active weaponry. Everything is geared towards getting the pilot deep behind enemy lines as quickly as possible, as invisibly as possible.”

”What about getting me back?”

”I’m afraid you’ll have to find your own way back,” Soldato said.

“The Nighthawk II will get you there--swiftly, and unnoticed. But it’s a one-way trip. The way back is up to you.”

Kienan cocked an eyebrow.

”You built a ship you can only use once? What the hell sense does that make?”

”You’re there to infiltrate, Kienan,” Soldato responded, his voice cool and logical. “Leaving the ship with the engine running while you were carrying out the mission would call attention to yourself, wouldn’t it?”

”I solved that problem years ago, when I stole from you before,” Kienan said. “All I needed then was the right postage.

”That was clever,” Soldato said with a smile. “I remember I spent days refining our mail intake protocols to prevent a reoccurrence.”

Kienan frowned. Of course Soldato would find a compliment where Kienan had only intended insult.

”And you stole my ships to make your escape,” Soldato added with a slight amused smile. “You didn’t mail yourself back out again.”

Soldato turned his back to his companion, leaving Kienan to look over the new ship, the captain’s attentions focused on the skeletal shape in the adjacent bay. Kienan couldn’t make out much of it--there was the beginning of a spaceframe and a spherical cockpit, but little else in the bay except a stack of gold armor plating on the far wall.

Another flight of fancy taking shape, no doubt.

Kienan watched Soldato, who ignored him, focusing on the project to come.

“Ask you a question?”

Soldato blinked but didn’t turn.

“Why?”

The captain raised an eyebrow.

“Why the mission?”

“No,” Kienan said, gesturing to the ship. “Why this? Why do you build them? You’re not selling them to anyone. What’s the point?”

Soldato looked over his shoulder at him. “Interesting question. One I don’t have a specific answer for. I suppose I always have. It’s my nature. I prefer to work out design challenges by hand. The universe has its flaws, I find myself compelled to improve them. Perfect them.”

Kienan’s eyes narrowed, his mouth a hard line.

“And you?”

Kienan leaned against the ship.

“Why do you do this? What’s your nature?”

Kienan shifted his weight.

“What part?”

“It’s a simple enough question,” Soldato replied. “What are you, at the core of yourself?”

Kienan knew the answer--he was a killer, and he killed to survive. The response had burbled to the top of his thoughts in an instant--it was so ingrained in his mind that it was a reflex.

It was true. He killed to survive, discovered he was good at it, and made it his occupation, his calling.

But something stopped him from saying it to Soldato.

“It’s all right,” Soldato said. “What we think we are, and what the observed result of our actions reveal, end up being very different. After all--our causes can’t see their effects.

“Say I invent a new way of transmitting information across the galaxy,” Soldato postulated. “An intellectual exercise--it’s all about capturing the desired data and moving it along to its destination. Simple, effective--it makes the universe a bit more tightly knit, brings people together. I’ve fixed something. Made it better.

“Then later, someone takes the very same technology I used to make communication clearer and turns it into a weapon of warfare. Am I responsible? I opened the door, after all, with my simple intellectual exercise. And for all my good intentions gone bad, what am I then?”

“The philosophy is above my pay grade, Soldato,” Kienan responded. “I just do . . . or I don’t.”

“Yes, I noticed that about you,” Soldato responded, looking back at his project.

“I also noticed you ducked the question.”

He’s sharp, Kienan mused, drumming his gloved fingers on the armrest of the pilot’s chair. I’ll give him that.

He’d taken the job from Soldato not because he trusted him, but because what he was offering was, after several years on the run, too tempting to pass up. There was risk, but risk had been part of Kienan’s life for years; nothing new there.

If it were just me and the Marionettes, I’d keep running, he thought. We could hide; we could stay off the grid. For so many years, I tried to act like that calculus hadn’t changed--that it was just about survival.

What changed?

He didn’t answer himself. Like Soldato’s question to him, it hung in the air, unanswered.

No, he thought. Not unanswered.

Just . . .unspoken.

He sighed. Without conscious thought, his focus slipped away from the countdown, and his thoughts pulled him back in time, and Kienan didn’t resist.

* * *

”Are you all right?” Kienan asked, leaning over Jayla-2’s shoulder. They were gathered around a huge oak banquet table, resplendent with more food than any of them had seen for at least the last five years. Actual food--not the ration blocks they’d been living on, either.

As they were waved in and took their seats, white-suited galley officers filled glasses of water, adjusted place settings, moved chairs away, every duty carried out with military precision.

”Yeah,” Jayla-2 said. “Vain and Mirage have been looking after me.”

”Good,” Kienan said, glancing from her to the door, to the galley staff. “I didn’t realize how long Soldato had kept us separated.”

”Do you know why he took us?”

Kienan blinked. “He wants me for a job.”

”A job?” Vain interjected. “They have an army. What does he need with us?”

”Not with us,” Kienan said. “Just me.”

”You’re going?”

Kienan nodded.

”Alone?” Mirage clarified.

Kienan nodded again, sheepish.

”Wait, what happens to us while you’re gone, then?”

”I’m told . . . you’ll be under his protection,” he replied. His body language told all of them he was less than convinced. He turned to Vain.

”A whole army?”

She nodded. “An extensively outfitted one, that his second in command was very eager to recruit us into.”

”Sounds about right,” Kienan said, putting the pieces together in his mind. “He’s a big believer in the hard sell.”

”He was doing the same with you?” Mirage asked.

”He’s a man who loves the sound of his own voice,” Kienan shrugged.

He glanced at the place settings, doing a quick headcount.

”Who else are they waiting for?” Kienan asked. “Is Sil--”

”Silhouette was called away,” Soldato’s voice boomed as he, Veitsche, and two other officers none of the Silhouette crew recognized filed in behind him, pulling their seats out and waiting for Soldato to sit first with as much precision as the wait staff. Soldato gestured to Kienan with a wave of his white-gloved hand, beckoning him to take his seat.

”Just us, I’m afraid.”

Kienan’s eyes narrowed on his host, taking his time as he made his way over to his chair, pulling it out with a jerk, and sitting down.

”Thank you, Kienan,” Soldato said. “I’d like to apologize to you all--you’ve been kept in the dark about why you were brought here, but I’m happy to explain. I thought, perhaps, those answers might be better digested over dinner. And you’ll have my best.”

He smiled, waving one of the wait staff over to him and gesturing to his wine glass, rising to his feet as the waiter filled the crystal flute. The waiter repeated the same action with all of the guests, and with a small nod from Soldato, they all rose.

”Let’s begin with a toast,” the captain offered, raising his flute. “To our honored guests, on the occasion of your visit to Elysium--may you be as delighted by your visit as we were to entertain you.”

Kienan took a drink. The wine was exquisite, but tasted bitter in his mouth, perhaps because this wasn’t a “visit” at all, and every demonstration of Soldato’s irritating attempts to ingratiate himself to him enraged him all over again.

How does Sil stand this guy?

He looked at one of the empty chairs.

That’s how, I guess.

The galley officers served the appetizers. No one spoke, because whatever Soldato wanted to pretend, the tension was still there.

A gilded prison was still a prison, and well-fed hostages were still hostages.

* * *

Kienan shook himself out of the memory, studying the timer. Five hours down,

Another ten before the ship completed its first staging, and there was still nothing he could do about any of it.

He wanted to blame Soldato, but found apart from being irritating, there was very little of his current predicament that Soldato was responsible for. Sure, he’d made the perfect box, but it had been Kienan’s own decision to walk into it with his eyes wide open.

To be surprised that Soldato had shut it behind him with such swiftness was self-deception. No, there was no getting away from it--he’d outmaneuvered Kienan, and that was all there was to it. The decision had been made, the die was cast, and the plan was running.

All that there was to do now was to play out his string--try to accomplish the mission, get back, get his people, and leave.

* * *

”This sounds crazy,” Jayla-2 said, leaning against the wall of the observation lounge, just off the dining room. “We’re supposed to--what? Trust that he’ll keep his word?”

”He’s just another client,” Kienan said, fumbling for a cigarette. “It’s just another job.”

”I know the procedure for hiring you,” Mirage said. “It doesn’t say anything about us being kidnapped. I’m sorry Kienan--nothing about this is ‘typical.’ What I don’t understand is why you’re doing it.”

Kienan lit his cigarette. “I got my reasons.”

”Given the circumstances, a little insight might be helpful for us,” Vain said. “You charged us with keeping Jayla-2 safe. It’s going to be difficult to do that with you gone, and us stuck here.”

Kienan exhaled a stream of smoke “Are you saying you can’t do it?”

”I’m saying it would be easier if I knew what was at stake.”

Kienan took another drag.

”Soldato says he has a lot of pull with the UEF,” he offered with a sigh. “He thinks he has a way of throwing them off our trail.”

”And you think he can?” Jayla-2 asked.

”It’s got possibilities,” Kienan said. “With the UEF off our backs, all we’d have to worry about would be the Syndicates.”

”That’s no small thing,” Mirage offered. “They’re not what they once were, but they’re still a problem.”

”They’ve got bigger problems than us,” Kienan said. His gaze drifted to Jayla-2. “It seemed right. The pressure would be off, even if it was a little bit, we could sett--I mean, we could stop running.”

”I didn’t think the running bothered you.”

”Not for me,” he responded, taking another puff. He was grateful for the smoke hanging in the air, as it obscured the visible doubt that flickered over his face for a split second.

”Anyways,” he said, changing the subject. “The decision’s been made, and I’m going.”

”And what are we meant to do in the meantime?” Jayla-2 asked. “Just wait here and hope it all turns out?”

”No,” Kienan said. “I want you to learn as much as you can about Soldato, his corporation, and this army of his. He’s been ahead of us, keeping us in the dark. We need to turn the tables, and to do that, we need to know who we’re dealing with. A little leverage would give us a hole card”

”Trust, but verify?” Mirage asked.

Kienan shook his head, tossing the cigarette into the deck and grinding it out under his shoe. He took a small delighted satisfaction in the black mark on the floor it left.

”Verify. Trust? Never.”

* * *

The Nighthawk II slipped out of Space Drive at the edge of the solar system, the back half of the ship ejecting and tumbling way from the ship. On this trajectory, it would be pulled into the orbit of the gas giant and be crushed in the heavy gravity of the planetary core.

Or rather, what was left of the engines would, as incendiary explosives activated by the ejection procedure began to consume the engine block from the inside out. Between that and the crushing pressures of the planet, even if something could be salvaged, it was extremely unlikely that it could be traced back.

The rest of the ship flew deeper into the solar system, its conventional thrusters baffled to cover its heat signature as the outer armor bent passive and active scanners around the spacecraft, continuing its silent approach.

Kienan took a deep breath, the cool dry air of the breathing unit chilling him and keeping him awake.

There was still some time yet before planetfall, and his thoughts were still drifting back to Elysium. In the rush to get out and get the mission underway, to ensure Vain and Mirage knew what they needed to do, and everything else there hadn’t been a lot of time, but he’d carved out a small space of time just before his departure.

”I don’t like this,” Jayla-2 said. “I really don’t.”

”It’s the right thing,” Kienan said. “Or the least worst option.”

”Who are you trying to convince?” Jayla-2 responded. “Me, or yourself?”

”Would it work for either?” Kienan said, his voice weary.

”Actually--don’t answer that.”

Jayla-2 took a step closer.

”I’m trying to take care of you,” he said. ‘Keep you safe. And this . . . this is all I can think of.”

”Kienan . . .”

”I know it’s not the best, but--”

”Kienan,” she repeated.

He turned away, and she put a hand on his shoulder.

”Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

”It’s all right,” she said. “I was just going to say I haven’t been “safe” with you since we met. Even longer, if you want to get technical.”

Kienan sighed. “I’m sorry for that too, then.”

”No,” she said. “I chose to be here. To be with you. You asked me to stay, and I did. Because I wanted to be. But I never expected it’d be a smooth ride. And it hasn’t been.

”But I don’t regret it.”

Kienan sighed again.

”I wanted better for you,” he said. “Still do. Always do.”

”There’s what you want, and what I want,” she offered. “Some places they line up fine, some they don’t. But I chose this, and my choice matters, even more than your wishes. And I’m pretty stubborn when it comes to getting my way, and I don’t like people making decisions for me.”

Kienan laughed. “Is that why you cold-cocked Sil?”

Jayla-2 winced. “They told you about that?”

”They did,” he said. “I was surprised. Not like you at all.”

”Well, she wanted to take the decision out of my hands,” Jayla-2 said. “Make the choice for me. And I wasn’t having it.

”Plus, she was being self-righteous, in that way . . . way she sometimes gets, you know?”

Kienan nodded. “She didn’t mean anything by it. She just wants the best for you.”

”Apparently that’s going around,” Jayla-2 said. “But that’s a call I get to make for myself. Just like you made the call to go on this mission. We all make choices, right?”

”Yeah.”

”So you do what you need to do,” she continued. “We’ll do our bit here. And if you don’t come back . . . well, we’ll deal with that too, when we have to.”

Kienan turned to her, moving close. His eyes met hers.

”I’m coming back,” he said. “Believe me, I will.”

She smiled. “I believe you,” she said.

“Because I think you have something to come back to, don’t you?”

The question hung in the air, unanswered by nothing more than the ghost of a smile that tugged at the corner of Kienan’s mouth.

He was pulled out of his reminiscence by the sound of the alarm. The white-grey planet of Eisfrei loomed below him, and the Nighthawk II was beginning orbital insertion. He made one last check of the instruments as the clock began ticking down the final seconds before everything began.