Merry sits alone in the grassy command room, cross-legged on a cushion at the low, round table, the events of the day swirling in her mind. They finally catch their quarry, the one whose ship seems to disappear like a ghost, and he’s a clueless courier—a mage, no less—who seems deeply shaken by what he has been a part of. She had been expecting Authority agents—perhaps a small team of smugglers or a single elite specialist—not a lost-looking drifter who claims he isn’t even from Thuliv.

She replays their conversation in a slow mental eddy, searching for any insight she can glean of his nature, or any spontaneous guidance on what she should do with him.

No inspiration is forthcoming.

She sighs. Duke is better at this. He has an eye for the truth of people. 

As if summoned by her musing, the door chimes and Duke returns with a mug of warm, spiced cocoa in each hand.

Merry takes her favourite mug from him with a smile—a slightly wonky clay thing with splotchy blue glaze, gold lines tracing through cracks where it has been patched up over countless years. “So,” she says, as he sits cross-legged on a cushion. “Thoughts?”

“About our guest? Boi likes him.”

Merry chuckles. “True. But as much as I appreciate Boi’s opinion on the matter, he likes everyone.”

“Yeeeeah . . .” Duke reclines with a smile, palms on the grass, and leans into a stretch. “That’s why he’s my best Boi.” He looks at Merry, his expression thoughtful. “I dunno, sis,” he says, sitting back up and taking a swig from his own mug—it’s bright purple and shaped like a unicorn’s head, complete with glittery horn. “I feel for him. Seems pretty torn up about the kids. What do you think?”

“I want to believe him,” says Merry. “He seems sincere. That, or he’s a brilliant actor. Which I doubt.”

“Oh, he’s sincere.” Duke nods, confident. “Dude’s still in shock. He’s not putting on an act in that state.”

“Hm.”

“Beyond that, though? Kinda hard to get a read on him yet.”

“Which makes him a big liability if we let him go.”

“I say we let him stay.” Duke shrugs. “He said he wants to help. If we keep him close, we can keep an eye on him.”

“Perhaps . . .” says Merry, cautiously. “We need to be certain we can trust him before he becomes privy to anything more than he already is.”

“Well hold on to your hair, fam,” proclaims a scratchy voice as Glitch pokes her head out of a ceiling vent with a grin. “‘Cause I found out something super-duper confusing!”

Merry raises her eyebrows over the top of her cocoa mug, taking a patient sip. “Good timing. I’ll refrain from asking you why you’re in there. Did you find something on his ship?”

“Maaaaaaaan, that ship is wild,” Glitch exclaims with delight, swooping through the room and sliding across the table. “The thing is a flying antique! And our dude’s got so much awesome old human junk in there. We gotta keep him!”

“Glitch, we will not be recruiting this man purely because he has a ‘wild ship.’ ”

“Yeah, so, you say that now, but . . .” Glitch leans forward conspiratorially, “ask him where he found it. If he’s truthful about that, well . . . ” she trails off. “You’ll see what I mean.”