For the first five minutes of the drive, both men were dead silent. Their eyes met repeatedly in the reflection of the rearview mirror, but neither wanted to go first. And what was there to say? As it stood, Kurt knew he’d thought for thousands of hours about what it was he would tell the other. In the way those pale, silvery eyes avoided his gaze told him that he’d been thought about just as often. Between the threat of the gun and the need to keep his eyes on the road, his brain was far too busy to figure anything out.

And so it was, Kurt went directly for the throat.

“How have you been?” His tone was strange, even to himself. “I haven’t seen you in quite a while.”

“You’re one to talk,” the man in the back said. “I thought we were done digging up the past.”

“I meant what I said.”

“But next thing I see is you carving a path straight to that ship, is that right?”

“...it’s not what it looks like.”

“That remains to be seen.”

Kurt turned the car onto the highway leading out of the city. The atmosphere was remarkably different during the day, where the horizon of cars ahead shimmered in the heat wave. The gargoyles on the nearby buildings glinted under the sun, their brilliant gold almost too bright for his taste. “This isn’t going to work.”

“We’ll see.”

“Since House Ix got involved they’ve ordered a checkpoint set up. The entire car’s going to get swept. Shoot me or not, they’re going to riddle you with bullets. But…you already knew that, didn't you?”

“It’s a standard procedure. You’ll go ninety percent of the way there and pull over, understood?”

“Of course. And I suppose you’ll sneak in and then what? Explosives? I don’t know if you’ve seen it in the last couple of weeks but it’s a really big ship…”

“Shut up and keep driving.”

Kurt’s mind continued to scramble as he turned his attention back on the road. In ten minutes they would be at the base of the mountains, and the traffic wasn’t going to help him stall today. He pictured the mountain road, and the flimsiness of the railings along its path. They were designed to stop anybody veering off, and not exactly direct impacts.

And then what? he asked himself. Just two bodies at the foot of the northern Vestin.

“What do I call you these days? Surely not that same damn callsign.”

The man in the back didn’t respond.

“Oh come on, you’re going to ruin my entire project anyway once I get you close to the camp. And you’re probably going to shoot me so I can’t alert the Stateship, so there’s no harm in telling me.”

“...Sven.”

“What was that?”

“I’m going by Sven these days.”

“Oh that’s a cool name. I’ve never actually known anybody called Sven. Did you keep the last name?”

“Of course I did.” The pressure of the gun barrel on the back of his neck lessened. “You think I’d throw that away?”

“No, just…checking. You look good. Better than me.”

“That’s not true. You have your trust found and your foundation and your own little company…tell me, what’s that afforded you?”

“Comfort,” he said. “Kinship. I know what it’s like to have a family.” He locked eyes with Sven in the mirror again. “You did too, once.”

“And we both know what happened there, don't we?”

Kurt furrowed his brow. “You’re not the only one who ever lost someone. You see what’s happening to humanity?”

Sven didn’t reply.

“You’ve been out there, so I know you have. Eden II getting hit’s just the start of a whole new chapter of pain for the rest of us. When that falls the hyperlanes to Corinth Prime and Palix Four will be vulnerable. Then it’s Bendis, Mimsul, Dorian Seven, Grailis…and then here. Not even necessarily in that order.”

Sven took a pause, as if thinking of something to say, before he was visible in the corner of the mirror again. “Have you ever met him?”

“Who?”

“Who do you think?”

“Booker Warrington? I’ve not had the pleasure.”

“Not Warrington. He’s just another stooge propped up by the Stateship for their own survival. He wins this and nothing changes for you and me. I’m talking about the shiny gentleman in the cream suit.”

Kurt sighed. “Jim Sarcos.” A half-remembered memory of a younger man in a dapper suit, a crimson poppy pinned to his sleeve, flashed in his mind for a moment. Sarcos, from way back in the Federation days. And now the enemy. “You’re not seriously going to help that monster-”

“Relax.” The gun pressed back into Kurt’s neck. This time, it was pressed in far enough for him to feel a part of the slide around the barrel. “All I did was hear him out. And you’re right, the guy’s a monster.”

“He’s literally not even human,” Kurt said, dredging up. “Just a copy of a copy of what used to be a real person. Did you know that?”

“Oh, he didn’t hide it. The way I see it, a person’s a person.”

“Except when it comes to Stateship, apparently.”

“You know damn well my issue’s never been about what they are, only what they’ve done. And they’re rotten, every single one of them, you don’t even know…”

“Then tell me.”

Sven scoffed. “In time. Humour me a little, Kurt. Is this little dig something they’ve got you doing? Or is it something for your own portfolio? Get your kids and grandkids in on the fame and fortune?”

Kurt took a deep breath. “Like I said, it won’t be long until Sarcos and his fleets get here. Why shouldn’t we use everything at our disposal?”

“That god down there won’t solve your issues,” Sven sneered. “Have you learned nothing from the Stateship’s fuckups? Apollo, Typhon, Abaddon…they’re not going to help you fight what’s coming. They’ll turn on you. How many will die before you’ll have to put them down yourself?”

“We have to try something. What have you done, hmm?”

“More than you know. The Stateship’s dogs were unkillable in the early days. But I’ve got just the thing, straight from their own hands. I can get that pesky agent off your back, you know, and then we can take care of whoever’s sleeping on the ship.”

“What have you…” The thought trailed off, and Kurt felt the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. He had advertised the dig months ago. The facts had been clear from the get-go, and yet it had taken Sven that long to act. So either he had been waiting for the dig to complete, like the Stateship had, or-

Of course.

“Tell me something.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to get information out of me.”

“I already have the information, thank you very much, but am I right to think that the stuff on Eden-II wasn’t Sarcos?”

There was almost a shadow of a smile upon what little he could see of Sven’s lips. “Clever. How’d you figure?”

“If his abominations got into a battle with the Stateship forces there we’d be seeing MODUS move in on the planet days ago. But everyone says there’s no further danger, which means it was localised. There was a very specific target…I’m guessing some kind of Stateship facility. That’s right up your alley.”

“You’ve always been quick on your feet, I’ll give you that.”

“So what have you found?”

“A solution. To all of humanity’s problems.”

“If you kill one of the House agents, they’re going to retaliate. You saw what happened last time, didn’t you?”

The smile faded from Sven’s eyes. “You don’t have to remind me. But I’m starting to think you’re the one who’s forgotten.”

“Life moves on,” Kurt said, barely louder than a whisper.

The silence between them that followed was deafening. There were names in the space in between the front and back of the car that floated to the top again, but neither would speak them. Perhaps, never again, at least not in the present company. Once upon a time, even thinking about the names and faces had hurt even Kurt, sending him into spirals of torture and self-inflicted agony that he thought would never end. The difference, it seemed, was that he had learned to live with it. Sven’s was a searing hot coal coring its way into the flesh and skin and bones of his palm, held precariously close to his heart.

As Kurt watched his unwelcome passenger, he saw that they were coming up on the exit ramp that would take them into the neighborhood at the base of the Vestin, and instinctively checked the mirror one last time.

Sven’s eyes had glossed over, reminiscing the good times before everything had gone wrong for the both of them.

Four, he corrected in his head. There were four of us. At that moment, as the car descended from the highway, he made the decision.

He snaked his right hand outside of Sven’s view and along the side of the car, before jabbing the button to unlock the headrest and grabbing as much of the leather as he could. He yanked as hard as he could, using the momentum of himself ducking in his seat to slam it down on the gun and Sven’s hand.

His hearing vanished the instant the pistol discharged, its bullet embedding itself in the windshield directly ahead, having barely missed the back of his head. The glass turned white from spiderwebbing. The muzzle blast hit him like a rabbit punch, and Kurt struggled to keep himself awake as his other hand left the steering wheel and jabbed the button on his dashboard to activate his car’s self-driving routine. Then he plunged it into the gap between the seat and the cup holders, and pulled out his own semi-automatic, angling it behind himself and pulling the trigger.

One of Sven’s sneakers shot up and knocked the barrel up as he fired, redirecting the shot through the roof of the car and leaving a nice, big hole in the headliner and the metal above. Kurt kept his head low as Sven’s gun went off twice more, the latter shattering the part of the windshield in front of them. Bits of safety glass flew by them, not sharp enough to slice but causing Sven to lean behind the driver's seat to avoid the debris, taking force off Kurt’s gun hand.

At risk of instantly being executed by a bullet, Kurt raised his head briefly now that he could see out of the front of the car, and found they were speeding towards the beginnings of the mountain road. The idea of running through a barrier was even worse than when he had initially considered it. Without his seatbelt on, going off that cliff was certain death.

He pressed his gun to the backrest under his armpit and fired, three times, trying to turn the weapon so his shots traced Sven’s leap across to the other side of the car to dodge, and then turned the gun on his friend.

Sven’s lunge was like lightning, his torso snapping to the side to dodge the next shot that shattered the window behind him, and then both of his hands were on Kurt’s gun, attempting to wrench it up and out of his grip.

Kurt pulled the trigger again, but Sven didn’t even flinch from the near miss as one of his hands moved on to grab Kurt’s trigger finger, forcefully levered it off the trigger. He felt his joints give away under the incredible strength, pain shooting all the way up his arm as his finger broke, and let go of the weapon.

Sven, focused on turning the gun around, had forgotten about Kurt’s other hand, which now moved across his body and snapped his seatbelt into place, as Kurt stomped as hard as he could on the brakes. Now that he was in the space between the two front seats, the inertia sent Sven pitching past Kurt and through what remained of the windshield, obliterating it. He bounced once on the hood and fell out of sight directly in front of the vehicle.

Kurt ignored the pain of his body being slammed into the seatbelt and switched to stomping on the accelerator, but an alarm buzzed on the dashboard. He tried again. The car’s system had its mind set on his earlier emergency brake and refused to relinquish the controls. Swearing, he pulled Sven’s gun from his headrest, undid the seatbelt with the unbroken fingers of his left hand, and opened the door, staggering out, rounding the hood.

Sven was gone. Kurt kept going, all the way around to the other side of the car, the unfamiliar pistol extra shaky in his non-dominant hand. As soon as he reached the opposite side, he saw a figure rise from under the car through the other, unbroken backseat window, and turned to fire.

He wasn’t sure how many rounds he squeezed off, but the magazine was soon empty, and Sven had vanished into the treeline beyond. There was no telling if any of the shots had landed, but right now, that didn’t matter. Kurt tossed the gun and reached into his jacket for his phone, leaning against the car door for support as he scrolled through the contacts list. The edges of his vision were darkening, but he found it as the pain in his chest finally overwhelmed him, and called a number he hoped he wouldn’t have.

His thoughts were only of his old friends before the call connected and he collapsed.

“What do you mean you can’t have coriander?” Alexa asked, leaning over to look at Aerin’s bowl.

Despite Aerin’s displeasure, the curry noodles were already half gone. “It tastes like soap to me. I got that gene or whatever. Not very obvious in this one though.”

“I never understand how everyone gets the taste of soap from it.”

“Here, try this.” She picked a sprig of coriander from a plate of appetizers they had both cleared. “Just put it on your tongue.”

“It’s not that bad for me.” She closed her mouth around a leaf, and for the first few seconds, it was the same herby flavour she was accustomed to in every Talosan dish. Then, she grimaced, and spat it out. “Okay, I think I get it if I keep it in my mouth too long.”

“Now imagine that, but instantly as soon as you taste it.”

“Oh wow.” She scooped some more rice and stir fried chicken into her mouth to cover the taste.

Bzzt.

“I still can’t believe you actually like Talosan jungle curry,” Alexa said, washing the food down with some sparkling water. “Back then you couldn’t take spice. Like, at all.”

“Oh, I’ve been through a lot. I bet I’ve eaten more offal than you by this point.”

“Oh god, like a brain?”

Bzzt.

“You gonna get that?” Aerin asked.

“Yeah.” Alexa dug through her bag in the third unoccupied chair and fished out her phone. The contact ID was…Kurt. She sighed, and took the call, holding the phone to her ear. “You know this is my lunch break, right?”

There was silence on the other end.

Alexa sat up. “...Kurt?”

A rush of air, like a strong gust, suddenly washed over them. The utensils on their plates ratted at the force of it, as a woman now stood right beside their table, Kurt’s phone in her hand.

Alexa slowly looked up, meeting the stone-faced Stateship agent she had only briefly met at the dig site once, now staring back at her.

“Alexa Romilly,” she said flatly.

“That’s…that’s me.” Alexa timidly lowered her phone, hanging up. The other device in the woman’s hand also lost its connection. “Wait, is that Kurt’s phone?”

“What’s happened?” Aerin crossed her arms.

“Aerin Williams,” the agent said, turning to look at her. “Both of you. We need to talk.”