Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One: Normal

Anya Novakova's slate rang for the tenth time in just as many minutes. She ignored it as she casually sipped her iced latte from her table, the shadow of the gleaming M.A.S.T. Building keeping the worst of Jemison's summer heat at bay. She watched as passersby went about the day, throwing a sly, ball-capped wink to the occasional double-taking lookie-lou as they stumbled by. It all felt somewhat normal.

Sure, her shoulder ached and Anya was fairly certain she broke a rib when she was thrown out of the exploding civ shuttle, but somewhat normal was a nice change of pace.
Two hours in makeup, another two hours getting rigged and walking through the aforementioned civ shuttle scene, 10 minutes to get the shot, then right into the fight choreography run-through. An hour later, she was breathing heavy, sweating, and standing over a bunch of stunt guys that were playing possum for the camera.

Except for that one guy. Rich? Rick? No, Brian. She definitely hit him. Hard. Whatever, Brian and his grabby hands had it coming.

That was her cue to exit stage left. Right to her trailer, then out the back and to the landing pad. The crew was too busy tending to Brian—wait, it was Rick. Brian's cool—to notice that her and the Jolly Steve were already on the other side of Jemison.

The slate buzzed again, a persistent thrum that she ignored.

Anya absentmindedly took another sip of her latte as she maintained eye contact with a younger guy walking down the street with an equally young girl. He stopped and gawked, a finger half-pointed before the girl spun around with a look of utter disdain. She could just barely hear the girl's angry words, but the heat they radiated was undeniable as she stomped off, the poor guy trailing after her, stammering and sputtering.

It all felt so messy, this normal life thing. Unscripted. And Anya was enjoying every moment. She took another sip, slurping up the last of the milky coffee concoction as the slate buzzed for the twelfth time.
With a sigh, she reached for it and keyed the 'accept' icon. A litany of expletives exploded from the speaker, garnering sidelong glances from a handful of her fellow Terrabrew patrons.

"Hello, Archie."

The speaker stopped mid-colorful expression and cleared his throat, "Anya. Doll. I've been trying to call you for the last 15 minutes. Are you planning on returning to the set? James is getting... anxious."

"Oh, no. We can't have that. Especially not for THE James Tunn." Anya didn't hide the eye roll, nor the sarcasm.

There was a strained silence for the briefest moment. "Anya. Doll. We need you to come back to the set. No one is mad. Well, the stunt guy you decked isn't happy, but..."

"That dude's a dick. He had it coming. Besides, getting hit is part of the job description."

"Well, yes and no," Archie's chipper tone frayed at the seams, his frustration seeping through the cracks. "Listen, we just need you back here. They're not happy that you took the Steve. Do you realize the financial risk involved in that little joyride?"

Anya pulled the slate to her lips, knocking her cap off in the process. "They can bill me for it!" she huffed. "It's not like I couldn't buy twenty ships just like it!"

The line went muffled as two voices overlapped, Archie's faux New Atlantean joined by a richer, feminine tone. Anya knew what was coming next. She brushed her crimson hair from her face and mentally braced for what was about to come.

When the line cleared, Archie's sleazy voice was replaced by a sultry, Akilan drawl, so sweet that Anya could smell the floral perfume through the slate.

"Anya, Honey, it's Margot Wyatt. It seems like you've gotten yourself into a bit of a pickle."

Margot's tone was even, sad, and caring, but the undertone of disappointment curdled Anya's stomach.

"I know," she said softly, her haughtiness melting away. "I'm sorry, Miss Margot. I..."

Margot made a quiet shushing sound. "I get it, Hon. We've been pushing you hard with the tight film schedule after just coming off of the Press tour. You're obviously worn out. And I'm sorry for that."

"I just wanted coffee," Anya felt childish. What a stupid reason to run off, after all.

"Coffee? Honey, we've got the best craft service in all of the Settled Systems on the set. We've even coaxed Mickey Caviar out of hiding. We could have gotten you anything you wanted."

"But, it's not the same. Anywhere I go, it's always whatever I want when I want it. Unless it means just going out on my own for something. I just wanted to do something for myself. Just once."

The words weren't filled with fire, but they stung as they left Anya's lips.

"Listen, Hon. I'll deal with Tunn and the Producers. Take the day, catch your breath and we'll get back to work tomorrow. No harm, no foul. How does that sound?"

Margot had been there for her, her friend, mentor, and Mother Goose, since the day she picked her out of the crowd on Neon.

Anya sniffled. Disappointing Margot hurt.

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow. Oh, two things. Next time you feel like taking a walkabout, please bring Titus with you. No point in having a bodyguard if he's not there to guard your body."

Anya bit back a retort. After all, Titus was the one that gave her all of the training that she put to good use in her movies, for authenticity. Never mind the fact that she could outshoot the man now.

"Ok. And the second?"

"Keep a low profile. It seems you've already stirred up quite a ruckus. Let's not get the whole city in a craze."

Margot ended the call without another word. The slate went silent, and a low buzz filled the air. Anya looked up. A gathering crowd, starry-eyed and eager, was rushing toward her.

Oh, no... fans. She realized too late that her disguise had been blown the moment the Jemison sunlight touched her signature red hair.
She smiled awkwardly, waving and stood, not exactly running back to the starport. She paused for a brief moment at the SSSN's vid screen, on which a reporter was talking to an excited young man, his young girlfriend now exclaiming that she had seen Valiant Bravo at Terrabrew.

Life is funny, she thought, before hurrying off as the fanatical crowd trailed close by. She tossed a credstick at the confused Ship Tech as she rushed past him.

"They'll never believe you!" she said with a wink then ran up the ramp of the red and black behemoth that was the Jolly Steve.

"Brody!" she yelled as the landing ramp lifted, not waiting for her robotic steward to answer. "Get Steve off of the pad before the paparazzi show up!"

Steve was airborne and cruising back to the set by the time Anya climbed up into the bridge, breathlessly dumping herself into the captain's chair, eyes closed as she willed her heartbeat to normalize. Anya had grown to love the unfortunately named warship since it was written into Valiant Bravo's second film, 'Stars Collide', but she had always been at odds with its sheer immensity.

"Captain Bravo," Brody's digital lilt filtered in beside her. "We have a guest."

She regarded the miniature A.5 robot with one eye. "A what?"

"Hi, Miss Bravo," a small, shy voice said.

Both eyes open now, Anya sat up and looked at the diminutive ponytailed figure beside her.

"Frak."

Chapter Text

Anya blinked at the little girl, whose brown eyes were burning hopeful holes into her soul.

"H-how did you get on the ship? Your parents?", she stammered. "Brody! How?!"

The little girl smiled, as if the answer was perfectly clear. "I walked in, silly!"

Anya's jaw dropped, following her heart's decent into her stomach.

"Just... walked in. To the Jolly Steve."

The girl nodded. "I need your help, Miss Bravo."

Anya's mind blazed with questions, some revolving around the girl and her need for help, but mostly centering around the potential, and utterly concerning, kidnapping charges that were to follow.

"Can you help me find my Daddy?", the girl asked, wiping a sniffly nose.

The question snapped Anya out of the incarceration that awaited her future self.

"Is he at the Starport? Uh, honey?"

"Rebecca", she said, stifling another sniff.

Please don't tell me that everyone calls you 'Newt', Anya thought morbidly.

"My Daddy's name is James Dwexel.", Rebecca's face screwed up, then she tried it again. "Drexel."

Anya turned to her half-sized robot, "Brody, does that ring any bells?

"I have attempted to verify our guest's identity through UC and Freestar databases. However, I cannot locate a Drexel, James. It is possible that he is a LIST member."

A tug on her sleeve brought Anya's attention back on the child. "Some mean people in blue spacesuits took Daddy away."

Blue suits? Anya's head began to hurt at the thought of where her day was going.

"Ecliptic.", she spat. "Rebecca... I'm just going to call you 'Becks, okay?"

Becks made a face, but didn't disagree.

"Becks, where were you when the blue meanies took you dad?"

"He was getting me Chunks. I was hungry, then they came and took him away. He looked angry, but he didn't say anything."

Tears welled in her big eyes, then all of a sudden, she was on Anya's lap, head buried in her chest and sobbing uncontrollably. Anya's eyes widened as confusion set in, turning frantically to Brody for help.

"I am sorry, Captain Bravo. I am not programmed for child care."

"Fat lot of help you are."

The robot shrugged.

Closing her eyes, Anya tried to recall scenes from her favorite movies. Anything that could help with the terrified child through this.

She made a quiet shushing sound, rubbing the girl's back as she sobbed. "It's okay, Becks.", she whispered. I've got you."

Becks's sobs slowed and she eventually pulled her tear-stained face away, running her bleary eyes.

"Will you help me? Please?"

Anya's heart melted. "I'm going to try my best, Becks."

There was no turning back now.

"Brody, take us back to New Atlantis."

The landing shuddered the Jolly Steve just enough to send a gentle vibration through the deck plates. Anya unstrapped herself from the captain's chair and glanced back to find a small, ponytailed figure-sized void in the seat behind her.

"Becks?"

A cold dread took hold of her gut. She ran to the pressure door, peering frantically down the corridor.

"Becks?! Becks, where are you?!"

Her voice echoed through the empty deck, but then a curious sound echoed back. Anya strained to separate the sound from the Steve's ambient noises. And then, she heard it, the happy humming of a small child.

Anya stalked the deck for the elusive hum, forced to double back twice until movement in the galley caught her eye.

"Coo-kie!!!", Becks explained as she lofted a cookie the size of her face up into the air, then brought down edgewise into her open mouth. She chomped and chewed, humming to herself happily.

"There you are!", relief flowed through Anya as she slumped against the door way. "I see that you found the treats."

Becks nodded emphatically, still munching happily on what little was left of the cookie. Three more remained scattered on the floor, laying amidst at least three empty wrappers. Becks' free hand was already reaching for one of the survivors when Anya scooped her up.

"I think that's enough for now.", she said gently. "Anymore and you'll give yourself diabetes..."

"What's dyabeets?", the child asked, still chewing away at the last tidbits. Anya opened her mouth, then decided that their time was better spent not explaining medical conditions to a...

"How old are you, Becks?"

"Six!", Becks squealed and held up four fingers, showering Anya with soggy crumbs.

"Okay... Six it is.", she sighed. "Well, little miss Cookie Fiend, we're here. Let's get you cleaned up, the we can find your Dad."

Gently placing the kid on the counter, Anya began to wipe away the smudges of chocolate that painted Becks face.

"What made you think I could help you?", she said, more to herself than anything.

"Because you're Valiant Bravo.", Becks said, her voice painfully cute.
"And everyone knows that Valiant Bravo can fix anything!"

Anya opened her mouth, but the words wouldn't come.How do you respond to that, Anya thought. She was what? An actor? A fake? Anya could't crush the kid with the truth. Anya sighed with a reluctant smile. "Alright, kid. You got me."

After a frantic attempt to comb the kid's hair, Anya led her down the landing ramp then froze as a goodly-eyed crowd stared back at her. Becks looked up at her, a single crumb still clinging to the corner of her mouth.

"See!", Becks exclaimed. "Everyone knows Valiant Bravo is the best!"

The crowd pressed further, hover cameras and cheers filled the air. There was no way that she'd get through this crowd, let alone dragging a maybe six year old with her. Not an ideal situation to help locate Beck's Dad.

And then it hit her. "You're a genius, Becks!"

Anya hoisted the girl up and strode down the ramp, striking a heroic pose. The crowd ooh'd as she surveyed the crowd, channeling every bit of her Valiant charisma.

She tossed her crimson hair back, flashing a grin so wide it seemed to split her face in two. The crowd hushed, leaning in. "Think you can catch a heart of gold?," she purred, her voice echoing from a central speaker. "Come and get me."

The crowd erupted in cheers, eating up the moment like candy. Several reporters pressed closer, yelling over each other in a bid to get her attention. Then she saw her mark: a teenaged girl with a tshirt that read 'The Valiant Slatecast'. Perfect.

"Nice shirt", she said, locking her eyes on the girl until she realized that Valiant Bravo was speaking to her. "Camera on me, love."

The girl's eyes widened to small moons as she raised her slate in star struck shock. Anya smiled again, pouring all of Valiant's charm into the little camera. "Hello, New Atlantis!"

More cheers!

As you know, I'm in the middle of filming my seventh film, The Cassiopeia Protocol. But something came up that needed my immediate attention. This is my friend, Becks Drexel."

Valiant turned, bringing the child she held in her arms into the spotlight. The tiny girl smiled brightly, soaking in the spectacle. The crowd released a collective "awww" as the little girl.

"Becks was left stranded here after her father was taken earlier today, and she needs a hero to find her dad. But not just any hero..."

More cheers and a shout of 'You can do it, Val!'.

"She needs you. The galaxy you've seen me plunder is nothing compared to the courage in your hearts. Someone here knows where this little one's heart is. Someone knows the way to his safe return."

Anya gave the little girl a look of true affection, then back to the camera, a tear welling in her eye as she gave a final, desperate wink.

"Someone took Becks' hope away. She needs a hero to bring it back. That hero is you. Who's with me?"

Chapter Text

"And we're live now with a developing story out of New Atlantis, where beloved star Anya Novakova, known to millions as her on-screen alter ego, Valiant Bravo, has made a dramatic public appearance just moments ago. Following a day of speculation and rumors about her whereabouts, Novakova emerged from her private vessel, the Jolly Steve, with a small child in her arms..."

Anya's slate buzzed as the channel changed.

"...she pulls out the oldest trick in the book: the 'hero with a heart of gold' routine. Did anyone else notice how conveniently she had a child with her? And how perfectly she nailed that single tear? The whole thing was practically a movie..."

Anya glanced at the vibrating device, flipping to another channel.

"...an unscheduled broadcast earlier today from her vessel, the Jolly Steve. While some have hailed it as a genuine act of compassion, the incident raises several ethical questions. Why was the child unaccompanied and how did she board a heavily-guarded film set?"

Flip. Buzz.

"...sources say she was literally just on a coffee run! A coffee run, guys! So what kind of latte does a galactic hero like Valiant Bravo get?"

Buzz. Flip.

"Is it true that Brody really means 'Big Robot Daddy'?"

"What? Ew. No. Never ever ever ask that again."

The slate's buzzing persisted. With a sigh, Anya reached for the ever-present thorn in her side and swiped the ANSWER icon.

"Hi, Margot."

"Hon, whatever it is you thought you were doing--"

"I'm sorry, Margot," Anya bit her lip, a small dam to block the sob that threatened to flood her voice.

"Sorry?" The surprise in Margot's voice was genuine. "Whatever for?"

"You're not mad?"

"Heavens, no, Honey. I called to tell you that Tunn is in love with what you did today."

Anya wearily eyed the name on the slate's display. "You're not making any sense, M. And it's been a day, so if you would, break it down for me... uh... what's that old purple dinosaur show?"

The pause was palpable.

"Have you eaten today, Anya? I don't know what that's supposed to mean. Anyway, what I mean, is that stunt you pulled with the girl. You just gave Tunn a three million credit press junket for half a tank of fuel. James is over the moon at the reaction. Your films have hit an all-time high in downloads since the moment the news dropped."

"Really? Which ones?"

Margot's smile was audible.

"All of them. Needless to say, this is a significant moment. The media is clamoring for details, the public--no, the fans--all want more of you, Hon. And, oh my stars, the kid! They are eating her up! James has even called the writers in to work her into the script!"

Anya fell over on the couch, her cheek pressing into the soft red leather. She knew that she should be happy--no, overly-enthusiastic--but there was something prickly in the statement.

"Anya? You there, hon?"

"Yeah. I'm just... speechless." It was the truth, after all, but she recovered. "I'm excited to hear this is such a big deal! What's next?"

"Atta girl! For now, nothing. You get at least another day or two to enjoy the fancy lattes you like. I'm sure James will have a workable script sooner than that."

"Perfect," she guessed. "Perfect!"

"Alright, Hon, talk to you soon. Oh, and do me a favor, stay out of trouble."

The slate went silent.

"...Bravo—Anya Novakova herself—just gave a live broadcast right into my slate! She's here! She's a hero in real life, not just in the movies!"

Lifting her head, the image cleared and resolved into the exuberant face of the 'Valiant Slatecast' girl. Her energy was an infectious little bug that pushed Anya's lip into a smile. Well, at least on the side that wasn't crushed into the couch.

"...and she's not even getting paid for it! This is what it means to be Valiant Bravo, you guys. She's not just an actress, she's the real deal! Everyone's already sharing the video, and people are starting to talk! #FindBecksDad #ValiantBravoSavesTheDay! Let's show the galaxy what a real hero looks like!!"

Sitting up, she paused the video, freezing the girl in a less-than-graceful expression. Anya studied the view, then with a tap of her finger, she found a better frame, one that radiated a star-struck whimsy. Two more taps froze the girl's face in a hopeful, genuine smile.

There it is. 'Authenticity'. At least someone believes in me. Not just Valiant.

Blowing a raspberry, Anya stood, pulled on her hoodie and strode out of the lounge. She regretted walking barefoot now, the cold deck quickening her pace, wishing that she had brought fuzzy slippers with her. Then again, she hadn't exactly planned on being gone for more than an hour or two.

Passing by the galley, Anya stopped and peered in, expecting to find a cookie-addled Becks. Instead, the barren stainless steel landscape yawned before her. She pressed on, her toes protesting in mock frostbite.
She found Becks sitting on the deck of the bridge, cross-legged across from Brody. A deck of cards had been spread between them and a handful each. Brody's cards were neatly arrayed in his mechanical hands. Becks', not so much. A card or two were facing out, another dangled precariously. Anya watched as Brody quietly explained the game, and then it hit her.

"Brody, why are you teaching Becks to play poker?"

The robot didn't bother to look up. "This is an age-appropriate game that you may be familiar with. It's called..." Brody's head swiveled up, his optical sensor aimed squarely at Anya. "Old Maid."

Her jaw dropped. The insolent little shit.

"Who hurt you?"

"I have appeared in all six of your films," Brody stated, a "matter of fact" tone bleeding through the robotic lilt. "Is that not torture enough?"

Oblivious to the exchange, Becks smiled up at Anya, her eyes an excited plea. "Play with us!"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, kid."

Anya knelt beside the pair, flashing a smile at Becks, before turning to her mechanical sparring partner.

"As for you, turd. Deal me in."

Becks learned quickly, dominating the card-matching game within a few hands. Anya watched as Becks dropped a six of hearts over a five of spades, then reconsidered, and placed a four of diamonds over the neighboring four of hearts instead. The move won her the game. Anya raised an eyebrow at Brody as the little girl whooped. The robot gave the smallest of nods, almost imperceptible against the soft whine of servos.

Figures, she thought. Hell, I couldn't beat Brody playing "Go Fish", much less a straight game of poker.

"I won! I won! Again!" Becks leaped up and ran around the pair, arms spread out like wings before leaping into Anya's arms. "Thank you, Anya!!!"

Anya smiled, despite having to navigate around the sheer lack of understanding what to do in the child's embrace. She did the only thing that felt right and hugged her back. It was warm and oddly comforting.

"I have an idea," she said, suddenly feeling fluffy. "How about we go and celebrate your victory with some hot chocolate?"

"Really? Even though it's almost bedtime?"

Bedtime? It's only 8:30?

"Especially since it's almost bedtime."

Becks jumped up, grinning like a maniac before sprinting out of the bridge, her soft voice echoing in the corridor.

"I'll race you there!"

Anya watched her disappear, absently laying her hand on Brody's blocky head.

"Good job. You heartless abomination."

"I do my best."

Becks sat on the counter as Anya poured the cocoa into a mug, looking more like a puppy waiting for a treat.

"Two... three... four..." She counted as Anya dropped tiny marshmallows into the concoction. "Six..."

Anya glanced sideways at the girl, who nodded vigorously.

"I won the race. More!"

She watched Becks as she dropped a sixth marshmallow in. "Six..."

Then two more. "Seven... Eight!"

Odd.

Anya held the steamy mug, gently blowing on it before setting it down. "Go ahead. It's warm, but not too hot."

Becks picked it up, inhaling the chocolatey steam, suddenly looking more like a fancy wine connoisseur than a child, then took a decidedly un-fancy slurp.

"It's good," she said between gulps.
Anya watched the child as she finished off the cocoa, enjoying the quiet moment before asking the question that hung on her tongue.

"Why did you call me Anya earlier?"

Becks set the mug down, grinning while handling the mug like a proper princess.

"Because it's your name, silly."

"But, I'm Valiant Bravo, right?"

Becks looked at her as if that was the dumbest thing she'd ever heard.

"And Anya."

"So you realize that I'm an actress?"

Another one of those looks.

"I know that you're really pretending."

Anya deflated at the word, but the child continued.

"You're pretending that Miss Valiant and you aren't the same person."

Pretending. The simple statement rattled around Anya's head.

"I'm not..."

"It's like pretending to be brave when you're really scared. You do that but backards... backwards. You pretend to be scared. But, you don't need to be scared. You're a super cool space pirate that helps people who are afraid, like me. And you have a neat spaceship and a funny robot to help you."

Anya was dumbfounded, but backwards. She pulled Becks into a hug, tight, the feeling of little hands around her was everything.

"Kid... I don't know where you came from, but I'm glad you're here. Thank you."

Becks's reply was muffled.

"I can't breathe."

"Well, Doll, I can't say that I'm not surprised that you called me for once. Should I hang up so you can hear an endless ringtone?"

Anya held the slate away from her face. She could feel the slime of Archie's voice dripping through the speaker.

"Archie, cut the crap. Where's M? And, I swear, if I have to hear your smarmy sigh..."

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of fame today. I'm connecting you now. Cun-"

Anya shuddered, letting the wave of revulsion and annoyance come and go.

"Anya, Honey! Is everything okay?"

"Hi, M. I'm fine. Better than fine, actually. I just wanted to apologize. I was worn out the last time we spoke and I'm afraid that I came off as ungrateful."

"Oh, hon. Don't you worry about that."

"No, M, I am. I'm sorry. But, I'm also thrilled. In fact, tell Mr. Tunn that I'm not only willing to play, but I'm going to take that ball and run with it."

"That's... fantastic!!! James will be excited. He's already cleared a ton--pardon the pun. Again.-- of capital to make sure that this isn't just going to be your biggest film, it'll be the best."

If he only knew, Anya thought.

"Great! I have some ideas in mind. Do you think that I could borrow Sammi, Irwin and the gang for a couple of days? Just while we're in rewrite?"

Margot tapped on her tablet, the light clicking of her nails on the screen coming through the speakers.

"I don't see why not? They've been going madder than a caged Ashta without anything to do. May I ask why, hon?"

Anya's smile, laced with pure Valiant, resonated in her reply.

"A good Space Pirate is nothing without her crew."

Chapter Text

Movement, a slow, easing rock, pulled Anya from her dreams—something about playing dress-up and oversized clothing. She wondered how she'd ever get the new suit to fit, stirred, then rolled and hugged the pillow closer. Then warmth, soft and gentle, radiated across her back. Comforting, like a warm blanket on a cold night. Anya drifted back to Wonderland.

The feeling of pins and needles in her arm dragged her back to reality, leaving her dream self with a mouthful of phantom cotton candy as the circus vanished. She rolled again, but something heavy pinned her in place.

"If this is my paralysis demon," she grumbled, "I have a combat mech in the next room."

The sleep-borne creature didn't reply, yet the weight remained. The faint aroma of chocolate circled the warm lump on her arm. A mass of dark hair greeted her as Anya opened a weary eye.

"Becks?"

The child stirred, then scooched back, pushing her body into Anya's and freeing the beleaguered arm. Wincing, Anya held in the silent groan as blood flowed back into her fingers. She glanced at the sleeping Becks, her tiny face lost in a dream.

Anya had never been comfortable around kids, not that there was anything wrong with them. They just weren't her thing. She didn't really understand them—how they worked and stuff. Most of the kids she had been around were difficult and demanding. Entertain them all day long? No problem. But to actually have to… what? Exist? Maintain? No, not the right word...

Care.

How she had made it this far with the girl was a mystery. Sighing, she laid back on the pillow and listened to the sound of Becks's soft breath, lightly stroking the mess of hair until sleep once again embraced her.

Robin whooped as he ran down the Civ Shuttle's ramp, dashing across the landing pad to scoop a giggling Anya off her feet, spinning her around before pulling her into a tight embrace. A collection of "awwws" and "oohs" from the gathered crowd swirled around the co-stars as the paparazzi captured the spectacle.

"Okay, you two. Behave," Lena scolded as she walked past, half-heartedly waving to the enamored crowd.

"Oh, let them have their fun!" Sammi chuckled, smacking Anya's shapely rump and posing in front of it as another camera flashed.

Behind her, the rest of the Valiant's crew emerged from the shuttle, all waving and smiling. Irwin grinned, pulling off his fedora to bow gracefully. Lena blew kisses behind him, then playfully pushed at Irwin, who feigned his loss of balance and shot her a comical look of "why you!" The fans ate it up. Then, with another grin, fan-favorite Kenji stood between them, arms around their shoulders and flashing a thumbs-up.

Then a hush fell over the throng as Aris stepped down the ramp, regal and stately, wearing a form-fitting black dress that accentuated the tall woman's body. She stood, hand on hip, her steel eyes framed by the dark cascade of hair, silently judging the onlookers. And then she burst into giggles, unable to hold the serious tone of her "Dr. Zee" any longer. The crowd laughed with her as she sauntered to the others, adding a bit more sass to the swing of her hips.

Together, they circled around Anya, each striking a heroic pose for the cameras and the cheers.

The cheers subsided as Anya raised her hand, sliding a microphone over her ear.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a group of beautiful people here!"

She turned to her co-stars, then looked back at the crowd with a sass-filled grin.

"But my fellow castmates aren't hard on the eyes either, right?"

More cheers and laughter, settling back down like the ebb of a wave.

"And let's not forget the real reason we're all here today. New Atlantis, give Becks some love!"

The little girl stepped out from the landing bay, resplendent in a pink dress, her dark hair pulled into twin pigtails. She waved shyly and half-walked, half-ran to Anya's side, hugging her leg tight.

Shouts of "We love you, Becks!" echoed until Anya waved for a moment of quiet again.

"With a mission of this magnitude at hand," she hoisted Becks up into her arms, "it was imperative that I bring in the best crew to ever sail the black 'n' starry sea. And as always, they've come to help save the day. Still, we can only do so much. The rest falls on the heroes of New Atlantis."

She paused.

"And everyone in the Settled Systems. You are the true heroes. Help us find Becks's dad. Help us get her back home!"

The crowd erupted in cheers again.

"It's time for us to get to work. We love you all. Thank you for believing in us!"

Anya snapped to attention, her right fist clenched over her heart in salute. As one, her crew saluted and bowed. Becks followed the act, a tiny hand to her chest, melting even the coldest hearts.

With a coy curtsy and her signature smile, Anya turned and ran up the ramp of the Jolly Steve, her able-bodied crew in tow.

The video paused.

"That was a bit much, don't you think?" Lena asked to no one in particular, turning away from the galley's vidscreen.

"It got the job done, right, Cap'n?" Kenji said around a mouthful of apple, his tall frame leaned against the counter.

"Maybe it did. But it's still so... over the top."

Anya raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth.

"Have you seen any of our films?" Irwin's baritone New Atlantean accent cut off Anya's retort. "It's all over the top. Excessive. Egregious."

Anya's eyes widened.

"Extraneous, even. And I, for one, love it."

Lena sat back on her stool, looking more like a cat casually trying not to look like it was about to pounce on a mouse. "Of course, you do. Have you seen the size of that hat on your head? Any bigger and the Freestar Collective will think you're mocking them."

"The size of my hat has nothing to do with this," he said as he shook in mock insult. "And, for the record, it is of a perfectly adequate size, thank you very little."

Lena laughed. She always knew how to get a rise out of him, especially when it was all in good fun.

"I like the craziness of it all, too," Sammi said, shaking an empty cookie box in the hopes that something remained. "The show, I mean. It's fun. And this! Speeding off to New Atlantis beats rotting in our trailers while Tunn figures out the next best way to frame a ka-dozen reshoots."

"Ka-dozen?"

"Yes, Robin. You know, like we've already shot the same scene a dozen times, but we keep shooting it over and over because it's missing that..."

"Authenticity," they all said together.

Sammi tossed the empty box into the recycler and made a show of examining her nails, her middle finger extending slowly, her face painted in a feigned look of shock. "See, Robin? Ka. Dozen."

Robin made a kissy face, garnering a look of disgust from the pilot. "Ew. I know where those lips have been!"

Sammi eyed Anya.

"Hey, don't look at me in that tone of voice," she laughed. "I've got nothing to do with it. Besides, what happens in Neon stays in Neon."

"Thankfully!" Robin laughed as he poured a glass of whiskey.

"All I'm saying is that you," Lena inclined her head toward Anya, "are in quite a position. Tunn may think this is just some brilliantly hilarious PR stunt. But that precocious little thing you've found is very, very real. Do you have a plan?"

Becks looked up from Anya's slate for the first time, having been drawn into some game she found. "What's 'pecoshus' mean?"

"You, honey," Anya said distractedly. "To be honest, Lena, I don't have a clue. This wasn't supposed to happen. All I wanted was space. From Tunn, Margot, the movie."

"Us?" Aris said, her voice measured and serious.

"No!" Anya sputtered. "Never. You are all that really matters in my life."

"Whoa! I was just playing into the moment, Anya!" Aris jumped, tears appearing at the corners of her eyes like a pop-up summer shower.

"It's fine, Ari. Really," she smiled at her friend, the very vision of easily flustered perfection. "But it's true, all of it. I'm in deep, and Miss Precocious here..."

"Pecoshus!" Becks absently chimed in as she concentrated on the game, her tongue sticking out from the side of her mouth.

"Yes, honey, precocious. I couldn't just leave her while I went about my life in this half-dream. All the money and fame, living in some fairy tale. I needed to do something with it."

"Something good," Robin chimed in, staring into his drink.

"Yes," she looked down at the little girl beside her. "Only the best for her. So, I called you."

"The kid really did something to you?" Kenji asked, his typical jovial tone replaced by a sudden, unnaturally serious undercurrent.

"She has," Anya straightened and took in the room, her friends surrounding her amidst the stainless steel appliances. "I'm going to find Rebecca's dad. I just needed to see you all one more time before I find out where the rabbit hole leads."

"What do you mean 'one last time'?" Irwin gruffed. "We're coming with you."

"I can't ask you to do this." Anya snuck a glance at Robin, finding his eyes on hers. "You all have lives of your own."

"Anya. I'm in," Irwin said with as much gravitas as he could muster.

"I..."

"Dibs!" Aris squeaked.

"I'm so frakkin' in!" Sammi whooped.

"Samantha. Language!" Lena scolded, gesturing to the preoccupied Becks. "No one else is saying it, so I will. What about Tunn? We're all contracted to finish the movie."

Anya rubbed at her neck. "We've got at least a week while he has the writers locked in a bunker. Give it another day or two for him to triple-think his way into the final draft."

"A week?"

Anya nodded. "A week."

Lena shook her head with a wry smile. "I'm in. After all, someone has to be the adult here."

"I thought that was my job," Robin said, swallowing the rest of his drink. "Where Valiant goes, so does Atticus. After all, someone has to guard that body."

Robin winked. Sammi wretched loudly. "Ew. Stop it."

"You know it's—" Aris started.

"Yeah, yeah, but it's still so..." Sammi wretched again.

Kenji slapped the countertop, making Aris jump and putting an end to the faux gags. "Hot damn! Looks like we're a proper pirate gang! For real!"

"Hot damn," Anya said, quieter, feeling suddenly energized. "Looks like we are."

They sat for a moment, letting the weight of the moment settle until a sound, like someone clearing their throat over a bad transmission, broke the silence. Heads swiveled and found Brody standing in the doorway.

"If you're all done with this moment of human squishiness, you have a message waiting for you on your slate."

Anya took the slate from Becks, who had lost interest in her game, the words "WINNER 100%" flashing on the screen. She blinked, then swiped to the message.

A modulated voice rang from the slate.

"I have information. Meet me in the Well. Jake's Bar. 3 p.m. Yes, your boyfriend can come. But only him."

Anya sighed as she felt everyone looking at her.

"See," Sammi said. "Too good."

The smell of wok-fried food mingled with the scent of humanity and stale air as Anya and Robin navigated the Well. Anya snugged her hood down, just a bit tighter, as a girl walked past with the barest double-take. She felt exposed and visible, even though she was dressed down in a gray hoodie and unremarkable pants.

Robin, though dressed to blend in with the general population, walked as if he belonged here, returning a casual nod or two.

Anya always admired his confidence—not just the loud, almost cocky cool he projected when the cameras were on, but that quiet sense of knowing exactly who he is. It was, after all, what drew her to him.

They had just passed through a main thoroughfare, leaving them alone in the vast underground city.

"How was the opening? Wasn't it last night?"

Robin's smile shone in the dim lights.

"It went great. Michael said that the line went out the door. The Ryujin peeps had to get security to keep the line out of their lobby."

"That's impressive. But I'm not surprised; he's an amazing chef."

"An amazing man indeed. He's worked so hard to get the restaurant open. Neon being what it is, but that drive... If the food didn't win me over, his inability to take 'no' for an answer..."

Robin paused, took Anya's hand, and pulled her into a loving embrace as a group walked past. His hand caressed her cheek, tucking a lock of crimson hair into the shadows of her hood.

"...would have stolen my heart," his continuation was a soft whisper as the passersby disappeared around the corner.

Anya smiled and pulled away. "You're lucky, Robin. You know that, right?"

"Luckiest man in the entire Settled Systems. And he's not afraid to remind me. Daily. We're here."

The neon sign glowed a garish yellow, the "J" flashing intermittently, reading either as "Jake's" or "ake's" depending on its buzzing mood.

Robin pushed into the open doorway, having already scanned the establishment by his second step. He turned and held his hand out to Anya, her hand sliding into it, knowing the bar was safe. Or, safe enough anyway.

"Sit wherever you want," Jake, presumably, called as he hefted a clinking crate up onto the worn bar. He glanced over at a figure seated in a booth in the darker corner of the space, then back to Robin and Anya. "Just know that I charge extra if you break anything."

Robin flashed Jake a friendly smile and a wink as he passed, tossing a credstick into the open crate.

"I pay extra for a quiet drink. A beer, dark, and a whiskey sour for the lady."

"A quiet drink coming up."

The figure turned and stood, dim light playing on the polished blue steel of their suit.

"Over here," the man said before sitting in the seat against the wall.

Anya shared a glance with Robin, confirming their thought: Ecliptic.
They took their drinks from the expedient bartender then slid into the booth.

Chapter Text

The figure in the polished blue Ecliptic suit gestured to the empty side of the booth. As Anya and Robin slid in, the mercenary placed his helmet on the table with a heavy thud, the sound cutting through the bar's low hum. For a moment, no one spoke, the tension a palpable thing in the air. Robin broke the silence first.

He leaned back in the booth, radiating an effortless cool. "I take it that you're not one of Jake's usuals?"

Anya still felt out of place, but she forced her gaze into the shadowy face of the mercenary, stirring her whiskey sour to calm her nerves.

"You could say that. Most places don't appreciate this," he gestured to his armor, then picked up his cocktail, the little umbrella clinging to an orange wedge for dear life. A mousy, spectacled face with a thin mustache emerged into the light, sipping from the neon blue drink.

"Not that I blame them too much."
Anya eyed him, feeling just a bit less apprehensive. "Ecliptic aren't a common sight here in New Atlantis."

"No," he conceded, patting the scuffed helmet on the table beside him. "It's a bit harder to move around unnoticed here, blue armor and all. Still, it's not like we aren't just like the rest of the normies. We're just trying to make a living, pay the bills..."

"Intriguing," Anya said flatly. "I don't mean to appear like I don't care, but you called us here. Speaking of, who are you?"

"Leo," the man said. He seemed to catch himself before frowning, then straightening up. "Fair enough. You didn't come here to listen to me bemoan my life. You want to know about Drexel."

Anya had expected a tense negotiation, a demand for credits, perhaps even the subtle threat of a trap. Instead, Leo's expression was surprisingly open, shattering her carefully constructed defenses. Robin remained leaned back, the picture of relaxation, but Anya saw the way his fingers were pressed just a little too firmly against his glass. He was a hair's breadth from action if things went sideways.

"I know, I know, why trust an Ecliptic gun-for-hire," Leo's voice was almost apologetic as he ran a hand through his short brown hair. He looked nervous. "But, I still believe in doing the right thing when I can."

Anya shot Robin a casual but pointed "is this guy for real" glance. Robin's shoulder lifted slightly before falling in an almost imperceptible shrug.

"I was on the team that grabbed Drexel. Shoved him onto a transport bound for Akila myself. He's alive, as far as I know."

"Any clue where on Akila the transport was destined for?" Robin asked, as casually as asking where Leo ate lunch today.

"Not a clue. But the transport was marked as a Dyson Logistics carrier. Not much of a lead, but it's what I know," Leo said, spreading his hands, palms up. He was an empty tank. "Hope it helps."

"You weren't supposed to grab her too?" Robin asked.

"She was on the list, but not the priority. We had too much attention on us already, so we grabbed Drexel and bugged out. You don't go the extra mile for a client that could barely shell out the credits for the cheapest option on the menu."

Anya leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. "Why are you telling us this? Isn't it counterproductive to your line of work? Like breaking some kind of code?"

Leo let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Usually, yes. But I'm pretty sure I just said the client was a cheap-ass. They didn't want to pay extra for an NDA, so here we are. Besides, the Shades are gone, done, non-existent—"

He stopped, the name catching in his throat. He glanced from Anya to Robin, a new layer of sweat beading on his forehead.

"The Shades?" Anya’s voice was dangerously soft. "If they're non-existent, why does just saying their name make you look like you've seen a ghost?"

Leo swallowed hard, shaking his head with an embarrassed grin. "It's... it's not them. Not really. It's just... old habits, you know? Ghost stories that we use to scare Ecliptic noobs. You don't talk about them out loud. Especially not when..." He trailed off, looking between their faces.

"Not when what?" Anya pressed, her patience wearing thin. "Spit it out."

He took a deep breath, the tension in his shoulders suddenly collapsing into an entirely different kind of energy—a giddy, star-struck awe.

"Especially not when you're sitting across from Valiant frakkin' Bravo and Atticus Rome!"

Anya and Robin exchanged a look of disbelief.

"I'm a huge fan," Leo admitted, a blush creeping up his neck. "I wanted to be there when you first arrived in New Atlantis, but with the job and the media feeding frenzy, it just wasn't happening. Then I saw your broadcast. With the kid. I mean... damn. That was some real Valiant Bravo stuff."

Leo polished off the rest of his drink and continued. "I had to do something. For Becks, of course. She was out there alone."

"Because of you."

"Semantics," Leo shrugged, unfazed. "Anyway. Here I am. The rest of the guys bet fifty creds that you wouldn't show up. Looks who's got those smug assholes' money now! And while I've got you here... off the record, of course..." He pushed the helmet across the table. "Could you... could you maybe sign my helmet?"

Moments later, they watched the armored figure saunter out of Jake's Bar, his modulated voice a trailing echo in the corridor.

"I'm never taking this thing off!"

"Did that really just happen, Ani?" Robin said finally.

"Yep. We're all mad down here, Alice."

"'To my favorite Blue Meanie'?" Sammi exclaimed. "Are you frakkin' kidding me?"

Anya shrugged as she leaned back into her favorite spot on the couch. Sammi plopped down next to her, throwing her legs over Anya's lap with a dramatic sigh.

"This real-life thing gets weirder and weirder.

"Weirdo!" Becks absently chimed in from the foot of the couch, mesmerized by the large, plastic-wrapped cookie in Kenji's hand. He made a big show of putting it in his mouth, ready to take a big bite, watching as the corners of the girl's mouth began to drop.

"Fans do be weird like that, though," he said, pulling the cookie away from his mouth. Becks's smile returned.

"I remember this one time," he held out the cookie and smiled at Becks, who took it and held it to her like a precious treasure. "This girl came up and—"

"Kenji! Child!" Lena practically leapt from her perch along the wall, covering the girl's ears. "Seriously?"

"What? I was just going to say that she wanted me to sign her—"

"No! Bad dog!" Lena sat up, Becks plopping her tiny body into the woman's lap. "God, I swear I need to carry a spray bottle with me."

Kenji's tall frame shrank for a moment before his smile returned.

"Why? You gonna spray me anytime I get a—"

He threw his hands up in surrender as Lena's glare froze the words in his throat.

Sammi shot Anya a glance. "Kenji ain't the only one needing a good spray down!"

Anya turned bright pink. "What?! Why are you dragging me into this?"

"Because not all of us are getting action," Sammi said matter-of-factly. "It's been over a month since I got—"

"Samantha!" Lena roared, the pitch of her voice betraying her frustration.

"You know that they're..." Aris's words drowned in her bubbling giggles.

"I know! I know! But," Sammi paused for effect, shifting her suspicious gaze to Robin, who had been standing quietly against the door frame. "They're just too good."
Robin winked.

"Wait. A wink?! That's all I get?!" Sammi sat up, the definition of her abdominal muscles making Anya a bit jealous.

"Yep," he said, not one bit cocky. He nodded at the small woman's L-shaped position on the couch. "That can't be comfortable."

Sammi had a great comeback picked out, but Irwin pushed into the room with Brody in tow.

"And here you are, lolly-gagging the lot of you while I toil away in Steve's dank bowels," he declared as everyone recoiled.

Even Becks.

Aris covered her mouth. "Please don't ever say that again."

"My dear Aris, do you not enjoy a little flavor with your meal? My words are," Irwin smoothed out his mustache with a finger. "Zesty."

"Gross," Aris squeaked. "Did you come up with this on your way here?"

"Maybe. In truth, I came to report that the Jolly Steve is fully operational."

"Of course he is," Anya said around Sammi's wiggling toes. "I did fly here."

"She," he corrected. "And yes, but I meant to say that all of her systems are ready. Shields, weapons. All of it."

"Anyone else notice that our staterooms are stocked too?" Kenji interrupted. "Toiletries. Clothing. Everything in my size."

"As I was saying," Irwin harrumphed. "Our humble ship is ready. For what? Not a clue."

Robin gave Anya an unusually grim look. "We could always follow the lead to Akila."

Anya considered this. There wasn't anything else to do but follow up on Leo's lead. A light tug on her arm pulled her from her thoughts; Becks held the cookie up with a hopeful smile. She gave the girl a smile and a nod, then turned her attention back to her friends.

"Akila. I don't know what we're going to find there, but if Ecliptic is involved, trouble won't be far behind. We need to consider all the angles."

Aris stood, raising a shy hand, looking more like a school girl by the moment. "May I?"

"The floor is yours, Ari."

Aris smiled before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she reopened them, she was a completely different woman, her back straightened, the shyness solidifying into a cold, granite-like countenance.

Dr. Zee had entered the scene.

Aris's steel-gray eyes scanned the room, then fixed on a point in the ether, her mind processing the discussion before the banter began. When she spoke, her voice was calm, the tone a sultry huskiness covered under a layer of frost that quieted the room.

"Let us deconstruct the event and disregard the anecdotal absurdities," she began. "The informant's motivation is irrelevant. His fandom is a psychological vulnerability, a fortuitous but unreliable variable we cannot expect to encounter again."

Aris began to pace slowly, allowing the thoughts to shake free with every step as the crew watched her with wide eyes. Brody's boxy head swiveled as he followed her movements.

"Three critical data points were acquired from this exchange. First: The Target. James Drexel is confirmed alive and was transported to the Akila system. This transforms our mission from a search-and-rescue to a targeted extraction. The parameters have shifted from unknown to known, which is a tactical advantage."

"Agreed," Lena said, nodding her head, mentally pinning the pieces together.

Pausing, Aris held up a single, elegant finger, looking at Lena. "Second: The Vector. The transport was marked as a 'Dyson Logistics' carrier. This is our primary investigative thread. While likely a shell corporation or a stolen vessel, it provides a concrete starting point for Irwin and Lena to begin slicing data."

A second finger extended, her steel gaze sweeping over the crew. "Third, and most important: The Threat. The informant, an armed and trained mercenary, exhibited a visceral, physiological fear response to the name 'The Shades.' This involuntary reaction is a more valuable piece of intelligence than any information he provided willingly. It tells us that our true adversary is not the client who hired him, but this entity. 'The Shades' are the apex predator in this ecosystem."

The weight of the analysis settled over everyone, yet Anya's eyes never left her friend. There was a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in Aris's Dr. Zee mask, her eyes softening for the barest of moments, as if she was acknowledging the sheer strangeness of it all. Then, just as quickly, she scooped up her slate and began to type, speaking almost to herself.

"Conclusion: The asset was compromised by his own parasocial attachment to a fictionalized persona. A highly inefficient but, in this case, effective method of information retrieval."

Aris swung her gaze directly at Anya and Robin, her expression utterly serious. "However, I am logging a formal security concern. The next informant may not want an autograph. They may want your head. We will proceed under the assumption that every future encounter is a trap. The 'fanboy' variable has been noted and dismissed."

"Uh... and for the rest of us non-brainiac nerds, please?" Sammi said.

Aris fixed Sammi with a look of immense, practiced patience. She took a slow, deep breath—the kind one takes before explaining something for the third time—before speaking again. "Very well, Samantha. The simplified assessment."

She ticked the points off on her fingers.

"One: Our informant was a star-struck fool. That was a one-time lucky break. The next person we meet from the underworld will likely try to kill us.
Two: We have our mission. We're going to Akila to find a Dyson Logistics transport ship and get Becks's father.
Three: The most important part—the name he was scared to say, 'The Shades.' They are the real threat. He was more afraid of them than he was of us. That tells you everything you need to know."

She lowered the slate to the table, looking at all in attendance one by one. "In short: The funny part is over. The dangerous part is just beginning. Focus up."

"Ari," Anya said, her eyes wide, "you scare me."

The steel in Aris's eyes seemed to dissolve, the rigid posture of "Dr. Zee" slumping in an instant. The change was so immediate it was like watching a statue melt. Her voice, when it came out, was no longer the cold, husky tone of the clinical doctor, but her own higher, softer pitch, laced with genuine distress.

"Oh, gods, Anya, no. I'm sorry," she rushed forward, her hands fluttering awkwardly before she took one of Anya's. "I didn't mean to scare you. Letting... her out like that takes a lot out of me, and sometimes I forget to put the brakes on."

"Maybe we should all be a little scared," Robin said, breaking the silence. "I mean, I'm not. But there's good reason to be."

"I'm not scared.", Brody said quietly to no one in particular.

Anya extracted her feet from under Sammi and pushed off the couch. "Robin and Ari are right. This could get really bad, really quick. I know you all said you were 'in', but I can't put any of you at risk. Robin and I will go on our own."

"The hell you will," Lena said as she stood. "If things go sideways, you're going to need your Tactical Officer."
"And your pilot!" Sammi stood on her tiptoes, draping an arm over Anya. "You couldn't shake me if you tried."

Anya fought the grin and turned to Irwin and Kenji. "And you two?"
"Shi— Shoot," Kenji corrected, "I thought I was a given. Lead the way, Cap'n!"

"You'd never get off the landing pad without me tickling Steve's fiery bits." Irwin said with a thump of his broad chest.

"Ew, but... okay," Anya nodded. "Let's get everything stowed. We dust off in an hour."

And, out of sheer habit, the crew responded in unison, "Aye-aye, Captain!"

A chocolatey "Aye-aye, Cap'n" echoed behind them as Becks gleefully munched on the remains of her cookie.

Anya stood before her crew on the bridge of the Jolly Steve, the coordinates for Akila City glowing on the main screen. She'd been in this position before, reshoot after reshoot, new scene after new scene. It was one of those moments that never got old.

Everyone had donned the crimson and gold jumpsuits that were the de facto uniform—well, since the second movie, anyway—standing like a proper crew and not the actors that they were. It felt odd, surreal, and a ripple of doubt wove its way into Anya's throat. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Just let the scene do the work.

"Status reports," she said confidently. On the outside.

"Controls and navigation: Ready!" Sammi's voice was clear, confident.

"Weapons and Tactical: Ready," Lena reported, her voice cool and steady.

"Medical and Life Support: Functional as intended.", Aris pulled Dr. Zee's husky tone with a sly wink.

"Engineering: All systems optimal," Irwin's baritone carried a note of excitement.

"Sensors and technicals: All green, Cap!" Kenji grinned.

"Cookies: Ready!" Becks squealed.

Robin made a last-minute glance at his vidscreen, checking the surrounding landing pad. Satisfied, he spoke, "Security confirms landing pad is clear. Ship secure."

"You all heard the man," Anya said, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. "Take us up."

The crew moved into position and within moments the engines hummed, and the Starport Air Traffic Controller gave Sammi the green light. But nothing happened.
A heavy silence filled the bridge as everyone turned to look at Anya, their expressions expectant.

It was Kenji who finally spoke, a wide grin on his face. "You're forgetting something, Cap'n."

Anya frowned. "What? The nav-computer is set, comms are—"

"Our song," Robin said softly from beside her, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "We always do this before a mission."

Anya's breath caught. "But that's... that's for the movies."

"Is it?" Aris asked, her voice gentle. Becks, sitting in the co-pilot's chair, looked up at Anya with wide, hopeful eyes.

Anya looked at the faces of her crew—her family. This wasn't a movie or a performance. This was a ceremony.

"Of course."

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and a note, clear and strong, filled the bridge.

"Hey way ho hey-ho..."

A second voice joined her, then a third. Irwin's baritone harmony, Sammi's enthusiastic shout, all of them blending together.

"A-ho hey ho ha!"

Anya's eyes snapped open, a genuine, brilliant smile gracing her lips as she sang, her voice soaring with the full power of Valiant Bravo.
"Heave ho, heave ho... Stand fast, make ready to sail!"

As their voices rose in the final chorus, Sammi slammed the thrusters forward, and the Jolly Steve surged from the landing pad and leapt toward the stars.

Chapter Text

"Well, this sure ain't New Atlantis," Sammi chirped from the pilot's seat, her hands dancing over the controls as the grav drive spun down.

Anya shook off a yawn and glanced up at vidscreen that loomed over  Sammi's perch. The velvet black of space gave way to the mottled, reddish-brown hide of Akila. From orbit, it looked like a world made of dust and canyons, a rugged landscape that made no promises of comfortable life.

"Funny," Anya said as she examined her treacherously empty coffee mug. "I always keep thinking Akila is some green planet full of wannabe cowpokes, then I remember that it's just brown."

"What about the cowpokes?", Sammi turned in her seat, grinning not-so-innocently.

"Not a cow to be found, sadly," Anya yawned again.

"Uh, hello?" Her arm arced upward, pointing down at her twin ponytailed head. "MOOO!!!"

"And believe me," the ponytails returned to their inflight position. "I am hor-"

"Dear God," Robin groaned.

Anya blanched, "Sammi. Ew."

"That's my line," the pilot replied, her grin widening. "Anyway, we're cleared to land. And, get this, air traffic control guy sounds like he's nursing one helluva hangover. I love it."

Sammi brought the Jolly Steve over the starport at speeds that shook the ATC guy out of his whiskey-soaked stupor, filling the comms with drawling curses, before the landing thrusters flared dramatically, setting the big ship down with a gentle, satisfying thud. Lena and Kenji stood, stretching stiff limbs as Sammi shut everything down.

Finally convinced that she couldn't magically fill her mug with coffee, Anya set it down and unfastened her harnesses.

"Captain," Brody announced beside her.

"Holy frak!," Anya jumped, the harnesses shoving her back into her crash couch. "Where the frak did you come from?"

"I've been here the whole time," Brody's optical sensor dimmed as he lifted her slate. "Miss Wyatt is calling."

"Great. I'll take this in the lounge."

She took the slate and slinked out of the bridge with Robin and Lena in tow. Sammi skipped past him, gently petting Brody's blocky head as he slumped.

"Right. No need to thank the talking furniture."

Anya's stomach tightened. In all of the excitement, she neglected to keep Margot in the loop and it weighed on her. She handed the slate to Lena with a nod, who patched the call through to the galley's private screen.

Margot Wyatt’s face appeared, impossibly serene. She wasn't in an office, but a lavish-looking lounge, a glass of something amber in her hand. Margot sat silently for a moment, waiting until Lena and Robin excused themselves from the lounge.

"Anya, Honey," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "Quite the exit. The press is having a field day. 'Valiant Bravo Goes Rogue for a Cause.' Tunn is beside himself."

"Margot," Anya kept her voice level. "I had to. Becks's Dad. He's here."

"Of course, you did," Margot said, taking a slow sip. There was no anger, no panic. Just a terrifying, placid control.

"It's a wonderful angle. In fact, you may have singlehandedly invented a new form of interactive cinema."

Anya's jaw dropped. "I what?"

"Genius. Pure. Genius.", she continued, unfazed. "I'm already arranging to have a production team moved to Akila City to capture behind-the-scenes footage. We'll need to keep the story alive. I'll handle the logistics, don't you worry. I can even free up some resources if you find yourself in need of anything."

The offer hung in the air, feeling both like a lifeline and a leash. "We're fine for now," Anya said, the words feeling like someone else's lines.

"I'm sure you are. Just keep me appraised, Hon. We wouldn't want the story to get away from us."

The screen went dark, leaving Anya with a cold knot of dread in her gut.

Margot's calm acceptance was more unnerving than any tongue lashing.

Shaking off the feeling, Anya joined the rest of the crew gathering around the galley table. More than a few raised eyebrows aimed themselves at her.

"We're okay," Anya said with a resigned grin. "Believe it or not, we have full support from Margot and Tunn."

"You're shittin' me," Sammi exclaimed around a mouthful of grapes. "Right?"

"No. It's true. Straight out of M's lips."

"So...", Kenji dragged the word out as Becks pinned his thumb down with her own tiny digit, winning another thumb wrestling match. "What's next?"

"We need to find any trace of a 'Dyson Logistics' without kicking the hornet's nest," Anya ran her hand through her crimson hair, thought better of it and straightened, setting a mask of confidence on her face.

"Lena, Irwin, you two are on manifests. Find somewhere conveniently inconspicuous to slice into the local networks and find what you can. The rest of us will do a quiet walkthrough of the city and get a read on the situation."

"I trust that you'll keep me up to speed," Lena said, her analytical gears were spinning at full speed now.

"Wouldn't dare not to," She turned to the doorway where Brody stood silently.

"Brody, we need security on full alert while we're out. No one, outside of the Ship Tech, comes near the Steve without my authorization."

Brody's head nodded in servo-whining compliance.

"Oh, and I think it's time for you to get into character."

The robot's boxy head tilted. His posture seemed to slump in a dramatic, long-suffering sigh that was somehow audible despite his lack of lungs. "'Get into character', she said. I hate that guy..."

With a final, martyred look, he stomped off toward the armory.

Anya, Robin, and Becks, holding tightly to Anya's hand, along with Kenji and Aris, stepped into the dusty streets of Akila City. They had traded the flashy crimson and gold flight suits for brown and gray tones to mix into the Akilan crowds.

With a nod, Aris and Kenji split off, filtering into the bustling marketplace. Anya watched as Aris stepped up to a stall, rummaging through the wares as if it was just another day, looking radiant without drawing a spotlight to her. In comparison, Anya felt exposed despite the drab gray beanie that cloaked her famous crimson hair.

Robin cleared his throat, a wry grin plastered on his lips. "Enjoying the view?"

"Huh? I... uh...," Anya felt her cheeks turn the same color as her hair.

Robin chuckled once then let the grin fade and melted into the environment. The charming "Atticus Rome" was gone, replaced by "The Guardian." His eyes were constantly moving, scanning rooftops, alleyways, and the faces in the sparse crowd.

As they moved from the main square past the Rock, Robin slowed his pace almost imperceptibly. Anya felt his hand gently press on her back, guiding her toward a market stall.

"Problem?" she murmured, pretending to inspect a piece of fruit.

"Company," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Freestar Ranger. Ten o'clock, high walkway. He's been on us since we passed the Hitching Post."

Anya risked a glance as Robin handed the merchant a cred stick. She saw him—a young man in the brown and tan uniform, not looking at them, but just... present. Robin took the fruit from Anya and smiled before taking a bite. All part of the show.

They continued their walk, looping through the lower city and back toward the barracks.

Robin's quiet directions kept them moving. "He's across the street now, talking to a vendor... Now he's by the east gate."

The Ranger was a ghost, a professional shadow who was making no effort to hide his presence. It was a message. They were being watched.

Meanwhile, in a noisy, dimly lit bar near the spaceport, Lena and Irwin nursed their drinks, a datapad resting between them.

"Their security is more of a suggestion than anything resembling secure," Lena muttered, her fingers a blur across the screen. "It's like they want people to smuggle things."

"A proud Freestar tradition," Irwin declared, taking a deep sip of his beer. "Creative independence in all its forms." He watched a particularly nasty-looking insect scurry across the floor, a shiver running up his spine. "And fauna."

"Got it," Lena said, her voice sharp, focused. "'Dyson Logistics' doesn't exist in any official Freestar registry. But... I'm cross-referencing unsanctioned flight plans against legitimate inbound flights. There's a private, unregistered landing pad five klicks outside the city wall. Lots of traffic, all of it off the books, but only one originating from New Atlantis. If they're here, they're there."

"We have a tail," Robin's tone was grim. "A professional one. Whoever he is, he's good. They know we're here, and they're watching our every move."

"Thanks to Lena and Irwin, we have a location, but we have the law breathing down our necks," Anya summarized, the tone of authority flowing naturally now. "We need to move fast, clean, and quiet. In and out before they know we've left."

"That rules out moving as a whole," Lena said, more to herself, then looking up at Anya. "Looks like the two of you have a date."

Sammi made a face, but Lena's patented Ice Queen stare squelched any further comment.

"Let's get to it. Sammi, I want the Steve ready to dust off if things go sideways. Aris, Kenji, you're the QRF when that happens..."

Anya noticed a robot sized hole in the room.

"Where's BRODY?"

Irwin harumphed. "He's still outside, ogling the plasma cannons. Again."

"Drag him in if you have to. He's with Ari and Kenji."

A light tug on her sleeve drew her out of the performance.

"Whattabout me?", Becks asked.

Anya scooped the girl up into her arms, her small frame feeling just a bit heavier than before.

Time to cut off the cookie train.

"You, my sweet Becks, get to sit in my seat while we find your Daddy."

Anya and Robin, clad in dark tactical gear, slipped out of a maintenance hatch in the underside of the Jolly Steve, slinking between the surrounding crates and power loaders as they made their way to the outskirts of the starport. They broke into a jog once outside of the Freestar Security's watchful eye. The five-kilometer trek was silent, but not arduous. Margot and Tunn's insistence on authenticity provided the physical condition that kept Anya and Robin from being winded along the way.

Anya even found herself admiring the way that the Akilan twilight painted the canyons in shades of contrasting deep purple and muted orange. Especially how the long shadows undercut the sparse green foliage and the steel gray eyes...

"We're here," Robin's voice was unnecessarily hushed as he crouched and moved to the ridge line. Anya flattened herself against an outcropping, looking down the landing pad, little more than hastily poured dura-crete pad surrounded by rocky outcrops.

"I can see why they chose this spot," her eyes scanned crescent of rock that shielded the landing pad.

It was there. A Civ shuttle painted in nondescript gray, its hull scarred and bearing no insignia, save for a hastily stenciled "Dyson Logistics" on the nose of the ship. It was cold, dark, and silent, the loading ramp yawning open like a cavern.

"Nobody's home," Robin whispered, his macrobinoculars pressed to his eyes. He switched to the thermal scanner with a flip of his thumb. "All clear. That thing's colder than Lena's glare."

They made their way down to the ship, carefully traversing the ramp. The inside was empty, but not clean. A discarded ration pack, a scuff mark on the floor. It had been used, and recently. A search of the cargo bay revealed a single container left behind. Inside, nestled in a bed of packing foam, was a single data slate.

Anya and Robin shared a look.

"Daddy!"

Becks reached up to vidscreen, her hands reaching desperately for the man in the video. James Drexel was in his forties, ruggedly good looking for a scientist, despite the exhausted, haunted expression, but his eyes were sharp and gleamed with intelligence.

Lena held the slate in one hand, wiping away a tear with the other, before swiping the play icon.

Drexel's recorded voice filled the room. "Anya Novakova. If you are watching this, then my daughter is safe, and I owe you a debt I can never repay. I have to be brief. My kidnapping was a lie. I hired that Ecliptic crew myself—a desperate gambit to create a smokescreen."

Gasps filled the room as stunned looks were exchanged.

"I am being hunted by the group that funded my research. They want what I've found, what I've created, and they will kill anyone to get it. I knew they were closing in. My only option was to create a diversion so loud, so public, that they wouldn't dare touch Rebecca. I sent her to you, knowing your celebrity would put her in a spotlight so bright it would be the only shield I could offer."

He looked away from the camera, his composure cracking for a moment. "The trail to Akila was for you. The real meeting point is encoded in this message. But be warned: They will know their prize has slipped away. They will stop hunting me... and they will start hunting you. By finding this message, you have become the Shades' primary target."

On the vidscreen, Drexel reached for the slate, then paused.

"I am sorry to entangle you into this," he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "But, Rebecca, she is something truly special and she needs help. Come find me and I will explain everything."

The message ended.

The group burst into a cacophony of questions in the sudden silence, but Anya's eyes were locked on Becks, who was staring at her father's frozen image, tears streaming for the first time since she found her way onto the Jolly Steve. They hadn't rescued a child from a simple kidnapping.

They had just been declared the lead players in a deadly game they didn't even know they were playing.

Chapter Text

A low, dissonant synth-beat rumbled in the darkness growing into a driving frantic, angry rhythm. A single spotlight shone down from somewhere in the darkness, illuminating Anya and the vast, dark stage she found herself on from above. The stage went on forever, an audience of tall, unforgiving mirrors surrounded her. Each one reflected a version of herself she didn't want to see: a grieving daughter, a furious teenager, a ghost haunted by the streets of Neon.

The music commanded her to move, and she obeyed. There was no choreography, no rhythm, only a raw expulsion of pain. She thrashed and flung herself across the stage, a chaotic blur of limbs and crimson hair. Her leaps were desperate, ending in intentional, crashing tumbles to the floor, each impact a punishment she felt she deserved.

The broken girls in the mirrors followed her every pained movement, their faces a silent chorus of her own despair. She cried out, a desperate scream for something, anything, to make it all make sense.

But then, she willed the music to change and it began to shift. She commanded the chaotic dissonance into a harmony, the angry rhythm resolving into a powerful, steady beat. Anya’s movements changed with it. The rage found a focus. The grief found a purpose. The stumbling tumbles transformed into soaring, controlled leaps, her form multiplying in the mirrors as she moved with a power she hadn't known she possessed.

She danced her way to the mirror at center stage, the music building toward a crescendo, powerful, moving and all encompassing. She spun, a final, graceful pirouette, and the broken girl in the reflection mirrored her perfectly. But as the song reached its climax, Anya struck a dynamic, dramatic pose—chin high, shoulders back, fists clenched. She opened her eyes.

The woman looking back at her was not the broken girl. Her eyes were not filled with sorrow, but with a fire that could outshine a star. She was confident. She was whole. She was the hero her mother had told her about, had dreamt she would become.

From the darkness beyond the mirrors, a wave of unseen applause crashed over her, a thousand voices cheering in unison.

"Bravo! So valiant! Bravo!"

Anya’s eyes snapped open, her heart hammering against her ribs. The ghostly cheers still echoed in her ears, leaving her shaken and breathless in the quiet of her stateroom. It was too much. Too real, she thought as she slowed her breath to the steady rhythm of Steve's impulse drive until her pulse slowed. She glanced at her vidscreen, they were still only halfway to Narion. Halfway to Drexel.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, the cold deck a shock to her system, and stumbled out into the corridor, needing to escape the lingering intensity of the dream.

She stopped at the arched doorway to the ship’s lounge. A soft light spilled out, and in it, Robin stood with his back to her, holding a slate to his ear. His voice was low and carefree, a gentle melody she rarely heard. A second voice, masculine and joyful, could be faintly heard from the slate's speaker.

Michael.

Anya felt a pang of guilt for intruding on such a private moment, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She watched as Robin laughed, a genuine, unburdened sound that seemed to make the whole room a little brighter. He shared a few more quiet words before his eyes drifted toward the doorway and found her standing there.

He didn't look surprised or embarrassed. A full, warm smile spread across his face, and he waved her in.

"Anya says hello," he said into the slate, his eyes still on hers. He listened for a moment, then his expression softened. "I love you, too. Talk soon."

He disconnected the call, his thumb gently swiping a single, happy tear from the corner of his eye.

"Couldn't sleep either?" he asked softly.

Anya shook her head, finding her voice. "Dreamt I was sixteen again. Not a fan."

"For what it's worth, I am. Always been."

Robin sat on the couch, Anya plopping down beside him.

"I needed to ground myself for a bit," Robin admitted, gesturing to the slate. "Couldn't think of a better way." He looked at her, his expression turning serious. "This is a lot, Ani. What Drexel said… The Shades… It's not a movie anymore."

"I know," she whispered. "But there's no turning back. Not now."

"No," he agreed, his voice firm. "Not now."

The unspoken promise hung in the air between them, a bond of loyalty stronger than any contract.

Anya gave him a grateful, weary smile and headed back to her room. The dream still clung to her, but the conversation with Robin had chased away the worst of the shadows. She slipped quietly back into her stateroom and froze.

Curled up in the center of her bed, using Anya's own pillow, was Becks. Her small chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, a soft snore escaping her lips with every other breath. In the dim light of the corridor, she looked impossibly small, impossibly innocent, yet somehow, bigger.

Anya walked to the side of the bed and sat down, watching the sleeping girl who had, in the span of two days, completely upended her universe. The dream had shown her something.

What? The hero she was meant to be. Anya shook the thought off.

The talk with Robin had solidified the mission she had to undertake.

But this, she realized, stroking a stray hair from Becks’s forehead. This was the reason, the only one she needed.

She was all in.

Anya eyes had just closed, shrouded in the sound of Becks’s peaceful slumber when the ship’s alarm blared to life—not the gentle chime of a proximity alert, but the harsh, shrieking klaxon of a red alert. Every light in the corridor flashed a bloody crimson.

“All hands to the bridge!” Sammi’s voice boomed over the intercom, tight with adrenaline. “Now! We’ve got company!”

Anya’s blood ran cold. She scooped the startled Becks from the bed and sprinted for the bridge, the child clinging to her neck. She burst through the doorway as the crew rushed to their stations, most rubbing bleary eyes.

"Aris, Kenji, secure the bridge and seal all bulkheads," Robin commanded as his holo-screen flared to life in front of his crash couch.

“What is it?” Anya demanded, setting Becks down behind the relative safety of the captain’s chair, her own holo-screen flickering into existence.

“Spacers,” Lena reported, her face grim as she pointed to the main viewscreen. “Three ships. Appeared out of nowhere. They’re hailing us.”

“On screen,” Anya commanded.
The face of a grizzled man with a jagged scar and a cybernetic eye filled the screen.

“Well, well, look what we found floatin’ in our space. A fat lookin’ bird, ripe for the pluckin’. And if it ain't the 'lengedary' Jolly Steve! Power down your weapons and prepare to be boarded. We’ll be takin’ your cargo, your ship, and anythin’ else we find pretty.”

The man moved in closer to his screen, making it look almost comical, but no less sinister.

"...and I believe we've got more than a few pretties."

“In your dreams, asshole,” Sammi muttered, her hands flying over her console.

“We’re not powering down anything,” Anya’s voice was steady, betraying none of the fear coiling in her gut. “You’ve made a mistake. Leave now.”

The Spacer laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Brave words. We’ll see how brave you are when we’re wearin’ your skin for boots.” The screen went dead.

“Shields up! Lena, get a firing solution!” Anya ordered.

“Already on it,” Lena replied, her fingers a blur. “But we’re outgunned. Their lead ship is a modified Reaper. We’ve got the advantage in shields, but they have us on firepower.”

“Just keep them busy!” Sammi yelled as she threw the Steve into a hard evasive maneuver, the deck groaning under the strain. A volley of laser fire stitched across their port side, the ship shuddering with the impact.

“Shields at eighty percent!” Irwin’s voice crackled over the comm from engineering. “They’re hitting harder than they look!”

Lena returned fire, the pulse lasers of the Steve lancing out, but the Spacers were agile, their smaller ships flanking them. Another volley slammed into their aft shields.
“Sixty percent!”

“We can’t keep this up,” Robin said, his hand resting on the hilt of his pistol. “They’ll wear us down.”

Brody, who had been standing silently by his console, spoke. His voice was devoid of its usual sarcasm, replaced by cold, digital logic.

“Captain, conventional tactics are proving insufficient. I suggest we utilize the ship’s primary combat interface.”

"The--What?!"

Brody stared at her, "The. Neuro. Link."

"Yes!," Sammi yelled, her enthusiasm pushing through gritted teeth. "The song and dance thing!"

Anya stared at him, her mind reeling. “The Neuro-Link? Brody, that’s just for the movies. It’s a prop.”

The robot’s optical sensor fixed on her, glowing with an intensity she had never seen before.

“But is it.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and absolute. This was it. The line between performance and reality, and Brody was telling her to cross it. She looked at the faces of her crew, their expressions a mixture of fear and trust. She looked at Becks, who was peering out from behind the chair, her eyes wide with terror.

The ship rocked from another direct hit. “Forty percent! Hull integrity is starting to buckle!”

There was no other choice. Her dream, her past, her promise—it all converged in this one moment. She had to become the hero. For real.

“Do it,” she said, her voice a whisper, then louder, filled with a resolve she didn’t know she had. “Irwin, activate the combat theater. Everyone, get ready to sync up!”

She strode to the center of the bridge, to the circular plate on the floor that she had only ever stood on for rehearsals. The floor lit up around her, a holographic cocoon of light and data shimmering into existence. She felt the ship’s systems connecting to the tiny nodes in her flight suit.

"Missile inbound! Anya!," Lena locked eyes with her captain. "I'm going to need you to do a plie in five, four..."

"A what?!"

"...one, Plie! NOW!"

She plied, her knees shaking, and the Steve responded, her thrusters firing in an incomprehensible pattern that dipped the aft end of the big ship just enough for the missile to slip past and explode harmlessly.

"What the FRAK!!," Anya shouted, as the holographic surround projected around her.

This wasn't a rehearsal. Those were real people, real weapons. She took a deep, shuddering breath and closed her eyes, the opening notes of a shanty echoing in her mind. It was shaky at first, a hesitant, fearful hum.

"We sail the black 'n starry seas,
Our steel hearts beat to roam..."

Then she thought of Becks. She thought of her mother. She thought of the woman in the mirror. The fire in her eyes.

"We sail right into the darkest void,
To send our foes back home..."

Her voice found its rhythm. The hum became a note, clear and strong.

"With only the stars to light the way,
The dark way ahead.
We trust the black 'n starry seas,
To paint the void with red!"

She began to move, her fear transmuting into focused energy. A sharp, stomping dance step, and outside, the ship’s thrusters fired in a violent, perfectly timed burst, dodging a volley of fire.

"To war, to war!
The cannons call to me!
To war, to war!
Across the stormy sea!"

She sang, her voice soaring with the full, charismatic power of Valiant Bravo.

“O the stars are singing,
A call for liberty!"

“I’m in!” Lena yelled, her console flaring to life. “I have a perfect firing solution on their lead ship’s weapon systems!”

“…I hear the song of war,
It's callin' me!!”

Anya spun, her arms outstretched. The Jolly Steve mimicked the move, rolling on its axis as the main plasma cannons, silent until now, hummed to life.

“Power levels are off the charts!” Irwin shouted, his voice a mix of terror and awe. “She’s giving us everything she’s got!”

The crew, catching her rhythm, joined in, their voices adding harmony to the command. It was the "Choir" command, their voices a multi-key authorization for maximum power.

"Then to fight, then to fight!
Hoist the flag, let it fly!
Then to fight, then to fight!
Loose your steel, raise it high!"

As they sang the final line together—“O the stars are singing,
A call for liberty!”—Anya slammed her fist down.

The ship unleashed hell. A perfectly synchronized, massively overcharged blast of plasma and laser fire erupted from the Jolly Steve. It struck the Spacer Reaper not as a weapon, but as a judgment. The enemy ship’s shields shattered, its hull buckled, and it exploded in a brilliant, silent flash of light.

The two remaining Spacer ships, suddenly realizing they had picked a fight with a legend, turned and burned for the black before they disappeared in the flash of grav jumps.

Silence fell on the bridge, broken only by the crew’s heavy breathing. Anya’s performance ended, the holographic theater fading around her as she stood, sweat-drenched and gasping, in the center of the room.

Sammi swiveled in her chair, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Holy… frak.”

Anya looked at her crew, her family, and then at Becks, who was now staring at her with pure, unadulterated awe.

She had done it.

She hadn’t pretended to be Valiant Bravo.

I am Valiant Bravo.

Chapter Text

Anya stood, bracing herself against the ring of projectors that formed the holographic combat theatre, her muscles still tingling from the impossible dance she’d just performed. She looked at her crew, their faces etched with the raw, exhilarating truth of what she--no, they’d--just accomplished.

Just moments ago, the crew had been dozing or just finding that comfortable spot on their beds, now they were energized, alive and buzzing in the wake of the Spacers retreat. The smiles that began to shine were as real as the battle felt surreal.

Lena, usually stoic, shook her head, a wide, almost manic grin splitting her face. "I can't believe... I mean, I knew the tech was good, but... that was beautiful, Captain. Pure poetry in motion."

Sammi, ever the pragmatist, had already been running diagnostics checks, her fingers tapped a little too excitedly on her console, the combat high in full effect. "Hull integrity at ninety-five percent. Minor cosmetic damage. And those two chickenshits are long gone. Frak 'em all!" She glanced at Anya. "Still, who'd a thunk a plié could dodge a missile. Can I try it next time?"

Brody's optical sensor, usually a steady blue, flickered with a faint, almost imperceptible green as he processed the combat data. "The Neuro-Kinetic Interface achieved 98.7% efficiency. Exceeds design parameters." His boxy head tilted toward Anya as he returned to his usual position alongside the Captain's Chair. "Not bad for someone who absorbs more caffeine than protein."

"...they both end in '-ein. That should count for something," Sammi retorted.

"That's as close to a compliment as you'll ever get from me," Brody chirped in his robotic lilt.

"Then it'll have to do," she replied as she stretched and stepped out the combat theatre, its holographic display fading into the ether.

Robin approached Anya, a hand resting on her shoulder. "You were incredible, Anya. Really. " His gaze was knowing, a silent acknowledgement that the line between fantasy and reality had just been crossed. He placed his head against hers. "You're the real deal."

Aris moved over to their huddle, practically vibrating, her steel-gray eyes shining with unadulterated fascination. The meticulous Dr. Zee persona had evaporated, leaving only the dark-haired whirlwind.

"Did you feel it, Anya? The neural feedback! The resonance patterns across the ship's systems! It's like... it's like a symbiotic consciousness! The way the ship responded to the kinetic input, your input, it's beyond anything I've ever seen theorized!"

Aris spun on her toe in a semi-pirouette, "Was it the rotational velocity of your spin that caused the phase shift in the thrusters, or was it the vocal harmonics?"

Anya watched as she stopped and put a thoughtful finger to her luscious lips. Robin nudged Anya with an elbow. "I mean, theoretically, a sustained high C could initiate a...", Aris continued, failing her arms in a wild imitation of one of Anya's spins, "...or maybe more of a--"
Aris squeaked as she tripped over her own feet, losing her balance and tumbling directly into Anya.

For a few heartbeats, they were locked in an accidental embrace. Aris, chest-to-chest with Anya, her face inches from hers, could feel the rapid thump of Anya's heart against her own. Anya, still high on adrenaline, felt the unexpected warmth of Aris's body, the soft scent of something subtly floral. Intoxicating. The moment stretched, electric and thick with unspoken tension.

Then Aris, flushed crimson and sprang back, untangling herself. "Oh! Oh my stars! I am so, so sorry, Captain! My apologies! Just... a momentary lapse..." She stammered, adjusting her tunic, any hint of composure completely gone as her eyes darted, searching for someplace else to stand.

Robin coughed to hide a grin. Lena and Sammi exchanged raised eyebrows, a shared smirk passing between them. Kenji, ever oblivious, merely nodded, adding a sudden cold, logical tone to accentuate his sharply raised eyebrow..

"Fascinating, Aris. Sub-optimal foot placement leads to unintended bodily collision. This must be logged for future reference. Logic requires it."

Anya managed a slight, breathless laugh, dispelling her own flustered feelings as the crew dissolved into soft chuckles. "It's alright, Ari. Just... watch your step."

Anya found Becks in her stateroom, curled up on the bed and sketching furiously in a worn datapad.

"Hey there, honey.," Anya said softly, sitting beside her. "You okay after all that?"

Becks looked up, her wide, innocent eyes reflecting the faint glow of the datapad. "You were AWE-SOME, Anya! Did you see the boom? It was so big! I told you that you didn't need to be scared!"

Anya smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through her chest. "Yes. Yes, you did. And I wasn't, because of you."

Becks beamed at her. "And the crew helped too!"

"Without a doubt, hon." She paused, then gently broached the subject that had been gnawing at her. "You know, we're getting close to Narion. Close to finding your dad."

Becks's face lit up, a radiant joy that made Anya's heart ache. "Really? Soon?"

"Soon," Anya's smile felt somehow heavier. "And when we do... you'll get to see him. Be with him."

The joy on Becks's face wavered, replaced by a sudden uncertainty that put another little crack in whatever it was inside of Anya's chest. Her small hands clutched the datapad tightly.

"But... but if I go with Daddy... do I have to... leave you?" Her voice was tiny, barely a whisper.

Anya felt the crack widen, sharp and unexpected, she suddenly realized how deeply Becks had burrowed into her heart.

"Oh, honey," she murmured, pulling the girl into a gentle hug. Becks burrowed into her, her small arms wrapping tightly around Anya's waist.

"No matter what, Becks," Anya said, her voice thick with emotion, "I will always be here for you.. You'll always be part of the Jolly Steve family." She gently stroked the back of Becks's head, fighting off a stream of tears, her fingers tracing the soft skin just behind the right ear. Her thumb brushed past a small, raised mark, sending a furrow through her brow. Anya carefully pushed aside a lock of soft, dark hair revealing a small, perfectly etched black numeral, just behind Becks's ear

A '5'.

Anya stared at it as a cold dread seeped into her bones as Becks’s strange aversion to the number five, her inability to process it, her fear of it played through her mind.

This wasn't a coincidence. This wasn't an accident.

This was a brand.

Chapter Text

"Enter," Aris's voice held the cold, husky tone that was all Dr. Zee.

Anya gently pushed the door open, peeking in like a nervous child. Zee had her back to the door as she tended to the plants and vegetation that lined the back wall of the med bay. The Doctor poured a thin, measured stream of nutrient rich water over the base of a small fern, precisely angling Plastiglass watering pot with both hands, almost ceremonially.

Zee turned on her heels, almost too gracefully, laying her pot on a precisely folded square towel. Only then did her cold steel grey eyes meet Anya's

"I'm sorry to interrupt..."

Zee raised her chin slightly, the light catching on her exquisite cheekbones, as if considering something beyond Anya's comprehension.

"Nonsense. One would need to interrupt me first. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Anya deflated. Just a little. Plan B it is

"It's... well..."

Then she saw it. The light quiver at the ends of Zee's mouth. the softening of her eyes.

"Are you okay?", she asked. Zee tried to contain a snort, but failed miserably as Aris fell onto the stool in a fit of giggles.

Anya stared at her incredulously.

"How do you do that?"

Aris sat up, prim and proper with her hands held over her crossed knees. The giggling continued unabated, despite her best efforts to contain them.

"Lots and lots of practice."

"Uh huh," Anya leaned against the counter, unconvinced. "I'm sure there's more to it. We've been doing this for--"

"Ten years, one month and seventeen days," Aris blurted out. "Not that anyone's counting."

"Let me guess, you know this down to the minute."

Aris made a face of mock exasperation, her hand to her mouth. "Why I'd never! Only a complete weirdo would do that."

"Okay. Just-"

"Eleven hour, thirty six minutes and twelve... thirteen... fourteen seconds!"

Aris hid her face behind her hand, her olive complexion taking on a rosy hue.

Anya opened her mouth, the words hanging. She tried again, but now Aris was standing.

"For reals now," she said, regaining her composure. "I'll tell you about sometime soon. I'm sure you didn't come here just to see me. What's up?"

"I...," Anya deflated just a little more.
Dammit, just say it.

"It's Becks." No! Not that! Anya screamed internally.

Concern clouded Aris's eyes. "Oh no. What's wrong?"

"There's a mark behind her left ear. Okay, a mark isn't the right word for it. A number."

Aris had locked in now. "A number? As in, what? An identification number?"

"A brand."

The final leg of the jump to Narion was a silent, anxious affair. The crew went about their business as usual, the weight of Becks' tattoo weighed on Anya. Aris felt it too now, having discreetly inspected the mark under the guise of braiding the girl's hair like Aris had been wearing it. Every time she looked at Becks, now sitting quietly in the co-pilot's chair and humming to herself, all Anya could see was the small, black '5' branded behind her ear. Number forming a particular point of stress in the back of her own head.

"We're approaching the coordinates," Sammi announced, her voice unusually all business. "Deep in the asteroid belt. Good place to hide."

"Way to give us the warm and fuzzies," Kenji said from his station, tossing a paper airplane at her.

Sammi tilted her head, almost casually, as the airplane glided past her.

"Pre-dictable",'she said matter-of-factly. "Ten minutes to contact point.

The rendezvous point was a hollowed-out asteroid, a makeshift waystation bristling with comms relays. As Sammi expertly guided the Jolly Steve into a docking clamp, a single figure in a nondescript flight suit emerged from an airlock.

Anya and Robin met him in the airlock. James Drexel was older than he looked in the recording, the lines on his face deeper, but his eyes were the same—sharp, intelligent, and haunted.

"Miss Novakova," he extended his hand. Anya accepted it, matching his firm grip. "Doctor Drexel, I assume."

He shook Robin's hand next, "Indeed, for what it's worth."

The scientist looked around them at the ship, expectantly. "Where's Rebecca?"

Anya glanced at Robin, who had already assessed the situation before they walked over, nodded. With a raised hand, Aris stepped down the Jolly Steve's loading ramp, hand in hand with Becks.

Drexel's face lit the moment he saw her, his professional mask crumbling with a hitched breath. Becks let go of Aris's hand and ran, her small form crashing into his legs.
Drexel dropped to his knees, wrapping her in a desperate hug, burying his face in her hair. "You're safe. Thank God, you're safe."

He held her out for just a moment, "Oh my," he said. "You've done something to your hair. It's so pretty!" The little girl laughed and hugged her daddy tight.

Anya watched the reunion, feeling another crack forming in that indignant something inside her, aching for them both. She let the tender moment hang for a beat before she spoke, her voice quiet but firm as the tattooed number stood out on the back of the girl's head.

"Dr. Drexel. We need to talk."

"She isn't my daughter," Drexel confessed, his voice heavy with guilt. "Not by blood. Well, not really by any measurable means".

"What exactly does that mean?," Robin asked, a little rougher around the edge than usual. He gave Anya an almost imperceptible nod.

Bad Cop.

Drexel looked at his hands for a moment, then to Becks, who was buried in another game on Anya's slate.

"You see. I was there when she was born. Cared for her. Raised her."

He rolled his neck, trying to loosen the tension that suddenly welled up within.

"But, born," he sighed. "Isn't the right word for it either."

"What? Are you trying to say she's a clone?," Aris laughed.

Drexel didn't.

"Why aren't you laughing?", Anya asked, leaning in. Good cop be damned.

"Because the tragedy is that the statement is true."

"That's impossible. Human cloning has not been legally sanctioned in the Settled Systems," Aris was in her feet, Zee standing resolute and looking down her nose at the man. "Aside from the absolute fact that successful cloning has been proven ineffectual. There is no way--"

"Legally sanctioned, yes. Ineffectual," Drexel said, interrupting Zee's lecture, placing his head in his hands. "Not so here. I thought that we were making ground-breaking discoveries. Something that would help the human condition, to finally cure the ailments that have plagued humanity since the dawn of civilization."

"I don't follow," Anya said.

Drexel looked up, something solidifying within him again.
"It was called the 'Persephone Initiative'. We were chartered to develop clones that would be resistant to cancers in order to reverse engineer the disease."

He stood and paced.

"There were twelve subjects. All girls. We were given a specific DNA sequence, the progenitor had traits that were considered 'optimal' and 'effective'. That number,"

He paused.

"That was Rebecca's identifier. She was PS-05. A funny reaction to this. Well, maybe not 'haha' funny, but odd. Rebecca's inability to see her number, somehow developed as a mental block."

"She can't say the number 'five'," Anya said, connecting her thoughts since she met Becks.

"Yes, exactly.", Drexel looked at her, dignified that he wasn't the only person that noticed this. "To be honest, this is what drew me to Rebecca."

He leaned against the table. "I began playing number games with her. Counting and memory, kid's stuff. But, the longer I was with her, the more I realized that she was different."

"How so?", Zee asked.

"The others were detached. Cold. Less human. Unlike Rebecca. She laughed, she cried. She was a true child and then, one day, she said it."

Drexel's voice cracked.

"She called me 'daddy'. And it was over, just like that. Wrapped around her little finger."

He looked around. Aris had returned, wiping an eye. Robin looked a taken aback as well. Anya sniffed, then fixed Drexel with a question.

"Sounds sweet, but how did we get to this," she gestured to the room in general.

Drexel sighed, "And this is where it all goes oblong--"

"Pear-shaped," Aris corrected.

"Yes, that. At the two-month mark, we were notified that the subj... girls, were ready for the next phase in the trial. We were to prepare them to move to a new facility."

"Two months?," Robin asked. Two month mark of what?"

"Of their life cycle."

Drexel let that settle before continuing.

"The Persephone Initiative relies on factors provided by a programmed growth cycle, meaning that--"

"The subjects age at rate that supersedes natural human growth. By what factor and for what target range?", Zee asked, sharply.

"A factor of 2.3 to 1 for a target of twenty eight years of age."

Anya and Robin looked to Zee to clear this up, but it was Aris that looked back at them with a horrified expression.

"My stars... You're telling us that Becks is only two months old?"

"No, she's closer to three and half months now. Physically and mentally, she's almost seven."

"Which means she'll be my age in less than ten months," Anya said, her heart dropping as she looked at Becks.

"Yes."

Tears welled as Anya thought more about the sudden changes she had noticed over the short time since Becks snuck onto the Jolly Steve. The room spun and she forced herself to lean against the wall, her hands balled into fists.

"How?," she asked, her voice rising. "How could you do this to her?"

Drexel's face wore the shame without excuse.

"This isn't the worst of it. Rebecca was scared, she didn't want to leave and I couldn't let her go without being able to tell her--truthfully--that she'd be okay. So I asked the other researchers, Rand, McNally and Guinness, if they knew what Phase two was." He held his plans up again.

"Turns out that none of us were in the loop. So, I did what researchers do best and started digging. Even got this girl that I had been seeing to help. She was big on the whole hacking thing. Then nothing. A week went by and then suddenly, I get a message from her, the day before the transfer. It was one word."

He looked at them all one at a time.

"Weaponization."

The silence was palpable. When he spoke again, there was a silent pain that ended his voice.

"I never heard from her again. So, I packed away some of Rebecca's things and hid it in a crate outside of the security feeds and waited until the middle of the night and snuck her out of the facility."

"Where was this?", Robin asked, his tone lighter. The need to play Bad cop long expired.

"New Atlantis. Right where you'd never expect something like this to happen. We shacked up in the Well for a couple of days, but didn't know what to do next. And, that's where you came in."

Drexel pointed at Anya.

"I let Rebecca watch your movies on my slate to keep her entertained. She couldn't get enough. All she wanted was to watch and pretend to be you."

Drexels eyes shone again.

"Compared to what she could have been, seeing her become a hero," he sniffed, "like you. What more could a dad ask?"

He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat.

"Anyway, I went back to the facility a few days later. Rand, McNally, Guinness were dead. Executed at their workstations. That's when I panicked."

"And that's when we showed up", Anya snorted. "Just in time to save the day."

"Well, yes. It wasn't my intention."

"The hell it wasn't!," she shot back.

"No, honestly. I had hoped to go back to the facility to find a way to stop Rebecca's aging. Halt it. Permanently."

"A viable counteragent?,"
Zee asked. "Is there such a thing?"

"Theoretically, yes. I scoured the server for anything and everything, even my former colleagues' notes. I found more than I bargained for."

"Explain," Zee said, a little more edge to her force than her normal level calm.

"I found three data nodes that contained some of the PGS subroutines."

"But?," Robin cut in.

"Yes, but... the nodes are offline, requiring direct access. If I can get the data, I can synthesize a stopgap that can slow Rebecca's growth to near normal."

"Why can't you get the data," Anya shot back. "Why us? What aren't you telling us?"

Drexel shrugged. I'm a scientist, a researcher.", he said. "I don't have the skills to protect myself, much less Rebecca, from the Shades."

Anya and Robin glanced at each other. "That's the second time I've heard about these Shades. What are they?," Anya asked. "And don't you dare tell me they're window coverings."

"What?"

"Nevermind. Dish."

"I don't know much, only what I could glean from the server and random scraps of data from the web. All I know is that they're dangerous and most likely the ones that funded the Initiative."

"Why didn't you lead with this?", Anya groaned.

"You didn't ask? Besides, I told you they'd be onto you in my recording."

Before Anya could respond, a proximity alarm shrieked through the station.

"Contact!" Sammi's voice yelled over the comm. "Single ship, black, no transponder, just jumped in to the system and it's burning hard right for us."

Drexel ran up to Becks and gently pulled the Anya's slate for her, "Sorry, Sweetie. It's time to go and I need to borrow this for a moment."

He placed his slate over hers, syncing the pair together, then tossed to Anya.

"We're linked now. I have a safe house, I'll ping you when I'm there. Take care of my little girl."

"You're not taking her with you?"

"She's safer with you than me!" Drexel said, already moving for the airlock where his own small, stealth-modded ship was docked. "You can't let them get me or any hope of Rebecca living a normal life dies with me!"

Anya ran for the Jolly Steve scooping Becks into her arms. "Frak! Frak! Frak!," she cursed under her breath as the station began to rock, the dull sounds of explosions against the vacuum of space vibrating through the rock.

Anya doubled over to catch her breath as she stepped into the bridge.

"Whoever that is isn't aiming for us," Lena realized. "They're trying to cut off Drexel's escape!"

Anya strapped Becks into her captain's seat, the stepped into the combat theatre, her voice dropping into the confident tone of Valiant Bravo. "Sammi, get us between him and that ghost. Lena, weapons hot. Irwin, I need everything you've got in the shields!"

"Aye, Captain!," came the chorus of affirmatives

The Jolly Steve detached from the station, maneuvering its bulk to shield Drexel’s frantic departure. The sleek black ghost ship was a hornet, zipping around them, its pulse cannons chipping away at their shields as it tried to target the shuttle in the station's launch tube.

"It's too fast!" Sammi grunted, fighting the controls.

"Then we just need to be faster!" Anya yelled. "Irwin, get ready to activate the theatre!"

"Neura-link, ready," Brody chirped from beside Becks.

The circular plate on the floor lit up, and the Neuro-Link flared to life around her, a holographic cocoon of golden light. She felt the ship's systems connect, a familiar tingle in her bones, that set her to hum an ethereal tune.

Her hum became a clear, commanding note, an aria that rose and fell like a flag in the wind. The ship's energy surged in response, the blue ion exhaust of the Steve's engines flaring to a brilliant, overcharged gold. She carved a path across the theater, a sharp, swooping step that sent the massive warship diving in front of the ghost ship, shielding Drexel's vessel at the last possible second.

"She's on our tail! Rolling on your mark!" Sammi yelled.

Anya's pirouette was a blur of crimson and gold, a perfect, elegant spin that ended as she dropped into a low crouch. The Jolly Steve mirrored her, rolling its massive frame onto its side with impossible grace. As Anya rose, thrusting one hand toward the ceiling as if commanding the stars themselves, the ship's ventral thrusters ignited with a roar, slamming them into position directly on the ghost ship's tail.

"Plasma cannons are hot!" Lena shouted.

"Drexel's shuttle is spooling! Three..." Kenji counted down.

"Target locked!"

"Two..."

This was it. Anya's voice rose, joined by the harmonies of her crew, the "Choir" command flooding the system with power. With the final beat of the song, she didn't just spin; she lunged, thrusting both hands forward in a single, percussive motion.

"Firing!"

"One!"

The Steve rocked as the twin cannons fired, blazing gold streams raced out toward the ghost.

"Grav jump completed! He's outta here!," Kenji whooped.

The fighter flared its nose thrusters and rotated on its axis in a punishing full stop, then accelerated directly at the Steve, rolling ninety degrees to slip between the lancing plasma beams and streaked past them, bare meters from the hull.

"No way!", Sammi shouted in disbelief. "That maneuver should have killed the pilot!"

Anya whirled, banking the big ship toward the black ghost.

The ship cut its engines, drifting on inertia alone as it spun toward, pausing for a single, chilling moment, as if considering them, then banked hard and jumped out in flare of gravitic distortion, leaving the crew in stunned, ringing silence.

This was the enemy, Anya thought. The Shades were more than just a cryptic name.

And now, they were after her and her crew.

Chapter Text

"... to remember the tragedy that struck New Atlantis two years ago today," the reporter said, her voice somber. Anya opened a sleepy eye as archival footage of panicked crowds filled the screen.
"The still-unexplainable rampage by still-unidentified man in a silver spacesuit that spread from the well and into the heart of the city was an act of shocking violence that claimed dozens of lives."

A series of portraits flashed on screen. Anya closed her eye, snuggling back into her pillow, desperately hoping sleep would come back to reclaim her.

"...victims was Sarah Morgan, a decorated UC veteran and the celebrated Chair of Constellation. She was survived by her widow, Elis--"

The broadcast was cut short as the screen flickered, replaced by the cool, serene face of Margot Wyatt.

"Anya, Honey. I do hope I'm not interrupting." Her voice was smooth, and almost apologetic. Anya pulled the pillow over her head. Her timing was, as always, impeccable.

"Anya? I know you're there, hon."

"I'm up, l'm up...", she said sighing in resignation. Anya pulled the pillow away and sat up, not giving a frak about the flap of crimson hair that jutted skyward like a broken wing.

Margot waited patiently as Anya yawned and stretched, noting the errant flap of hair and the pink pajama top imprinted with yellow chickens. And the apparent lack of anything else below it.

"Better now?," Margot asked.

"I'd be better with cup of coffee and another hour of sleep, but here I am. What's up?"

"I've been reviewing the ship's sensor logs from your trip to Narion. That was quite the performance. Very impressive, hon. You've made me quite the proud mother hen."

Anya was wide-awake now. "You've been watching?"

"And listening," Margot added without a hint of apology. "Oh, honey, you two sure are cute together. Don't worry, your secrets are safe with me."

"Two? You... Robin?"

"Honey," she added with a knowing smile, "I know how you feel about a certain bubbly ball of fun in your crew. You really should tell her how you feel."

Anya's could feel the heat in her cheeks, barely stifling a squeal of embarrassment

"Besides," She continued, a sparkle of amusement filling her voice, "I've known about Michael all along. Robin has terrible taste in whiskey, but excellent taste in husbands."

Anya's jaw crashed through the deck.

"How?," Anya sputtered. Margot laughed, the sound made musical in her Akilan drawl. "Hon, I have eyes. Everywhere."

She let the word hang in the air.

"I've also started a preliminary file on these 'Shades,'" Margot continued, her expression hardening. "They are... difficult to find. More myth than organization. But I'm gingerly pulling on a few threads."

She paused, taking a delicate sip of tea. "Oh, and one more thing. I felt you should know. A private bounty was posted on the Crimson Fleet network about an hour ago. Five million credits for the safe return of a 'valuable' child matching Becks's description."

The air in the room turned to ice.

"Don't look so alarmed," Margot scolded playfully. "We're going to play this to our advantage."

"Margot..." Anya started. "This is getting out of hand."

"Nonsense, hon," Margot said, her voice leaving no room for argument. "This is a fantastic subplot. One that you are uniquely positioned to handle in the best way possible."

"Why does that sound like 'try not to get killed'."

"You're so dramatic. Which is exactly the point."

"Make it make sense, M."

Margot's smile intensified. "We're going to re-use your little trick from New Atlantis. You won't need to go sneaking into Akila, you'll put on a show as only you can. I'll have crews in orbit and planet side before you arrive. You're going to give them the show of a lifetime."

"How does keep Becks safe? Every lowlife from here to the Serpentis system is going to be gunning for us. We can't risk taking Becks there," Anya's voice caught, just a little, but it was enough to soften Margot's smile.

"No one's going to dare come after her while every camera in the settled systems is on that precious thing. Just like New Atlantis."

"I don't know if we can pull this off, M."

The smile returned.

"Of course you can, hon. You have me."

The transmission cut off, pitching Anya into darkness before the SSSN broadcast resumed.

"...Bravo announced a surprise stop in Akila City tomorrow to promote her new project that has the galaxy buzzing!," the reporter chirped in a near-manic show of fandom.

"Stay tuned, we'll be back with an update in the ongoing "Who's hotter: Anya or Aris" debat--"

The vidscreen clicked off as Anya jabbed her thumb over power icon on her slate. She eyed her pillow longingly, its outline barely visible in the dim light.

Then fell face first into it.

Anya will walk in as Sammi is attempting the plie maneuver, somehow turning it into a twerk, resulting in a virtual crash.

"I don't think that's how it's done," Aris said, pushing her butt out, mimicking Sammi's dance moves and pointing at it.

"Not. A. Word.," Lena glared at Irwin and Kenji, silencing them before either could comment.

"Oh, sure.., Anya does it and it's 'artistry'. I do it and it's nothing but 'hey, look, Sammi's shaking her Ass-"

"It was just an observation!", Aris squeaked.

"Observation-schmobservation, Doctor smarty-tight-pants." Sammi grumbled as she stepped out of the theatre, non-plussed. Aris looked down at her pants with a gasp, "But I was told that there were in regulation!"

Sammi was too busy grumbling to notice. "Fine then, you try it."

Aris perked up and clapped excitedly then hopped in and adjusted the playlist. A slinky bass-filled pop beat began to pulse through the bridge, making Aris's head bob to the beat. She turned the volume up, closed her eyes and released a long breath.

When the beat dropped, Aris turned into a whirlwind of swaying hips, and swirling hair, every movement as fluid and precise as Anya's on the stage.

"You've got to be shitting me...," Sammi oozed utter contempt.

Anya rubbed her temples, the ache throbbing at an almost rhythmic pace. She had hopes that caffeine would have helped, but the mug of dark liquid did little to quell the burgeoning headache.

She paused outside of Becks' door, peering in on the sleeping child. She laid in bed, a wild tangle of dark hair partially covered by a crumpled blanket. She snored loudly, lost in her dreams.

Somehow, the hectic sight of the snoozing kid eased the throbbing. It was amazing how much Becks affected her. Anya huffed at the thought, then continued on to the bridge. The thudding in her head grew stronger as she got closer until the door slid open and she was assaulted by the bass line and lyrics of her own song.

Irwin and Kenji stood with their backs to her, distracted by whatever it was that was going on.

"What the frak is happening?," she yelled, but the driving beat overpowered her.She pushed past them and froze, her jaw hitting the deck for the second time in two hours.

There, surrounded by the pulsing lights of the Combat Theatre's holodisplay, Aris danced, her skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat as her hips rocked in a hypnotic sway, her eyes closed, lost in the beat. Robin stood beside an unentertained and sulking Sammi just to the left of the theatre.

It took an act of sheer will for Anya to tear her eyes away from the hypnotic sway of Aris's hips. Her gaze snapped to Robin, hoping to find an ally in her disbelief

She did—his eyes were just as wide as hers, his jaw just as slack. They shared a perfect, synchronized "what the frak?"

But then, a slow, wicked grin spread across Robin's face. His gaze flickered from the still-dancing Aris, to Anya's flushed cheeks, and back again. Anya looked away, her own cheeks flaring, but she could still feel his grin, born of pure, unadulterated amusement at her expense.

Then the final bass drop hit, snapping Anya's gaze back to Aris. She whipped her hair back, dropping into a perfect plié, whirled, then finished with a sultry, exaggerated shake of her exquisite rump as Anya's recorded sultry whisper of 'catch me, if you can' filled the air.

There was a moment of quiet, then Kenji began to clap and all at once the rest joined in, except for Sammi, who simply looked away indignantly.
Aris bowed gracefully, soaking in the cheers.

"Why are you in the Combat theatre," Anya asked, stunned, still trying to reel her tongue back into her mouth. "and why are you playing 'Gold Rush', of all things? That wasn't even on any of the soundtracks."

Aris's graceful moment melted away at the sound of Anya's voice, her eyes wide as she tripped and fell out of the theatre, despite having been standing completely still.

"Rehearsal Mode is a standard feature for system calibration.," Brody said, causing Anya to jump as he materialized beside her.

Anya blinked. "Rehearsal mode?"

"Did the talking furniture stutter again? Yes. You have utilized this feature every day for three months during pre-production for The Cassiopeia Protocol," Brody stated flatly.

"Oh. Right. Rehearsal mode. I always thought this was just a video game."

"You are a constant source of inspiration, Captain.," Brody said, as he turned and trundled off. "Mostly as the butt if a joke, but to each their own."

"What?"

"I didn't say anything, I'm just furniture."

Everything felt surreal since Margot's call and her head hurt. Anya dropped into the captain's chair, closing her eyes as she began to rub her temples. The weight of the last couple of days had begun to settle on her and now the news of the bounty on Becks. She sighed, the sound unintentionally heavily and tried to suck it back in, which only made things worse. Now she was sobbing and not even understanding why. She looked at her hands, blurred through uninvited tears, but she could see her fingers trembling, which only made the sobs louder.
She looked up, everyone had turned toward her, deep lines of concern etched into their faces. And then, the dam broke and the world drowned in her tears.

The ragged, gut-wrenching sobs eventually softened into shuddering breaths. Anya sat curled on the galley couch, a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders by Aris. Becks was a warm, silent weight nestled against her side, her small hand clutching Anya's. The rest of the crew surrounded her, forming a quiet, protective perimeter. They arranged themselves far enough to let her b breathe while still close enough for to feel their presence.

Anya finally looked up, the fog finally lifting, her gaze finding Robin leaning against the far counter. Her voice, when she finally found it, was a hoarse, broken whisper.

"I don't know if I can do this."

The confession hung in the air, raw and fragile. "I'm just an actress. I play a hero in the movies. But this..." She shook her head, another tear tracing a path down her cheek. "This is real. People are trying to kill us. The Shades... and this little girl's life..." Her voice cracked, "It's all on me. I can't..."

Before the silence could curdle into pity, Lena, who had been standing by the vidscreen, spoke. Her voice was firm, not scolding, but with the honest steady tone of an undeniable fact.

"No, it's not all on you. It's on us."

Sammi, perched on the arm of the couch, leaned in. "Yeah, Cap. You're not alone in this crazy. You think I'm gonna let anyone tear down the bravest person I know? Not a chance! Besides, that MF'er in the black ship scratched my paint!"

Sammi punched her fist into her hand with a smack that made Anya jump. Sammi drooped, realizing her mistake.

"Sorry, Cap."

Irwin, who had been tinkering with his slate, looked up, his expression more serious than they'd ever seen it. "We will protect her, Anya. The Steve will protect her," he said, his voice a low rumble. "She's a warship, truly, not just some dollied up scow. She was built for this."

Kenji, standing near the doorway, gave a small, determined nod.

"We've got your back, Anya. Always have. And that isn't just on the set. We're here until the credits roll for real."

Anya looked from face to face, at this impossible, dysfunctional family of hers. The actors, the techies, all of them looking at her not with doubt, but with unwavering, absolute loyalty.

She looked down at Becks, her hazel eyes sparkled as she looked up at her, then squeezed her hand again.

"Backards. Remember?"

Another tear slid down Anya's cheek, but it wasn't the same as before. Her fear hadn't vanished. The weight was still there, heavy and real. But she wasn't carrying it alone anymore. She took a deep, steadying breath and squeezed Becks's hand back.

Her gaze met Robin's across the room, and for the first time since Margot's call, she gave him a small, genuine smile.

"Okay," she said, her voice quiet but clear. "Backards. Together."

Then she noticed the distinctly Aris sized hole in the group.

Doctor Zee looked at the bonsai tree that was the center piece of her living wall along the back of the med bay. She held the transparent watering pot near the miniature Japanese maple tree, holding the elegant spout just above the potted soil, but here eyes were fixed on the bright red leaves that had recently unfurled. She had been unable to move, frozen in place for what felt like an eternity, as a storm raged with the steel of her eyes.

Zee examined, tested, re-examined the situation, over and over, yet her conclusions were clouded in doubt. She allowed Aris a moment to interject, the sudden wave of raw emotion sending a tremor through her hand, the water sloshing gently within the watering pot. It was overwhelming and Zee had to muster her will to stave off the trickle that threatened to become a flood.

She forced cold logic upon the tangle of snarling thoughts and emotions, ensnaring it into a small, tidy box, one that she could observe the maelstrom from a safe, controlable distance. Among the other boxes that lay in the vault of her heart. Aris screamed at her from the other side of Zee's walled garden. Zee understood Aris's cries, her desperation to open the box, to let what was inside to live. Zee wanted it too. She just could not let it out.

She could not allow it in.

A knock.

She could not let it in.

Again.

"Aris?," Anya's voice, quiet and tentative, called out from the door, echoing within the walls of Zee's garden.

"Are you okay?"

Logic. Cold. Controlled. Safe.

Zee gently lowered the watering pot and turned, her steel eyes measuring the situation. Anya wore the weight of concern, her face was still stained by the tears of her breakdown.

It cannot enter.

Anya stepped in, cautious, uncertain, her eyes downcast.

Zee had rendered aid, ensuring that the captain was not in imminent physical threat. Recommended an effective and appropriate medication; a light sedative. Then moved to a controlled environment for analysis.

Logic would maintain control.

Zee would maintain control. She would wield logic as a shield, reason a sword, to protect--

"Aris?"

Waves crashing against the dam of logic, shaking the walls of Zee's garden.

Anya reached out taking Zee's hand, gentle, yet hesitant, her fingers warm against her palm.

A tear, bright in the lights of the living wall slid down Aris's cheek.

The dam burst.

Aris's fingers closed around Anya's, tears streaming freely, the rigidity of Zee's posture melting away.

"I'm sorry.,"Aris whispered shakily.

Anya looked into Aris's eyes for a moment then pulled her into a hug as Aris welt loudly.

Anya held Aris, her own tears falling. This time, they weren't born of desperate futility, but relief.

They stood together, crying against the green backdrop of Zee's walled garden. This moment was all that mattered.

Aris fidgeted with her hair as she sat beside Anya on the edge of a medical bed. They had been silent for a long while now, but not uncomfortably so. They were content to just be near, to be here, just to be.

Still, there was something that she needed to say. Something that couldn't wait for the walls to come crashing down again. She moved to the stool across from Anya, considering her words around a bitten lower lip.

She could feel Anya's gaze, but she only saw what Aris let her see. What she let the world see.

Until today. As she danced.

"Are you feeling better?," she asked, unable to say it just yet.

Anya gave her a quiet smile, not the mile-wide grin of Val, but something gentler and honest that lit up the room. "Yeah. Thanks to you."

"Ah, shucks," she replied, just a hint of a playful smile in return. "I'd say something witty here, but, that's always been your strong suit. I'm usually just the comedy relief."

"You are so, so much more than that."

"But, am I?"

Aris let that hang for a moment.

"Everyone either sees me as Dr. Zee, that cold-hearted bitch. Or, squeaky, clumsy goofball Aris."

Her steel eyes looked into Anya's for a heartbeat, then flicked away.

"Aris, I... We. We just see you."

Aris smirked. "That's the thing. You don't. Or didn't. At least, not until today."

Anya's face screwed up in confusion.

"It's funny that something as normal as dancing can turn the world upside down.," she chuckled lightly. "Have you noticed how different my voice suddenly sounds?"

Anya blinked, then nodded slowly as she realized that Aris's voice, rather her tone, had changed. It still retained its warm musical quality, like a the song of a bird, draped in the velvety tone of Zee.

"I'm confused. What are you trying to say, Aris? You're my person. I've known you longer than anyone, other than M, but she doesn't count."

Aris sighed, a long breath of... what? Resignation? Resolve. For a split second, Zee's steel eyes flashed and settled on Anya's blue, before softening again.

"What I'm saying is that the cold and the clumsy, those are all me, but only what I let everyone see. What you saw today, while was I wrapped up in your song, dancing. That.", Aris broke off, her voice catching.

"That's me. The real me. Free, confident."

She bit her lip again.

"Like you."

Aris took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling to regain her composure.

"I used to be like this all the time, my 'default state' so to speak. And then..."

A tears welled in her eyes again, blinking them away as Zee flashed again, then faded.

"I can do this," she said, still looking at the ceiling.

"We were on mission. Detailed to remove a group of spacers that had taken over a science outpost on Toliman II. It was supposed to be a simple 'Attack and Expel' action against a group who were more pests than combatants."

She glanced at Anya before falling back into her memory, a glaze forming over her eyes.

"Except that it wasn't. I was barely out of the shuttle when they hit it. Five dead: pilot, crew chief, Burris, Haggerty and Jenkins, our Sergeant. A whole fire team and aircrew, just... erased. Just like that.

Then they were right on top of us, like they were crawling out of the rocks. Goddamned cybernetic-junkie trash...

We fought our way into the main hab, thinking that cover would help. It just boxed us in. Cosgrove was the first to go down, there wasn't anything that could be done for her. Then Yuan got pulled out."

Aris swallowed a sob, the relived pain hitting her just as hard.

"We could only watch as they tore him apart.

It was a miracle that he had called it before they... The QRF was already on the air, but there were so many of them.

It got worse. Johanns took a round to the chest. The armor kept it from being immediately fatal, but it was up to me to keep him alive. I was still packing the wound when they took Chernenko's leg. Then Bradley. And Reese.

There was so much blood. Noise. The sounds of my guys crying out for... someone or something. Watching the toughest man you've met, crying, calling out for his mom in his last breath," Aris's breath hitched.

"That's one thing the movies never get. Something you can't forget... it's easy to just fall apart. To just unravel. But, if I did, people--my people!--would die."

Aris took a shivering breath and looked at Anya again, her eyes were sad, but something worked behind them.

"That's where Zee came from. When I forced myself to look at the cold, hard logic. To work in it. Push out the fear, the horror, the hurt and just get the job done. It's the only thing that kept us alive.

Even when the Spacers made it into the hab.

Six wounded. It was just Billings, Hux and me.

Until it was just me left to defend the wounded."

Anya gasped. "You stopped the Spacers? On your own?"

Aris smiled sadly.

"Nope. The QRF finally arrived and saved our asses. Not before earning a ride on a stretcher myself. It's amazing how well Enhance can remove scars. You'd never know that they were there, except for one."

"You kept it?"

"As a reminder. For them. For me.," A weight passed over Aris's face, lingered, then drifted away, melting away into a wry smile

'I may even show it to you if you ask nicely."

Aris's face flushed, realizing what she just said a little too late. Anya, for some inexplicable reason, was blushing too. Aris tried her best to Zee the embarrassment away, but the cold Doctor had checked out for the day, so she cleared her throat instead and forced a less juvenile frame of mind.

"I hope this doesn't change anything between us," she finally managed.

"Change things?" Anya shook her head, her voice soft but firm. "Aris, you built a shield to survive a war. You think I don't understand that? It doesn't change anything between us. If anything... it makes me understand you more."

Anya reached out and took Aris's hand, looking down at her slender fingers, before giving it a gentle squeeze.

"This just proves how strong you've always been, Ari. Even when you didn't feel like it. It just lets me see... all of you. And I'm not going anywhere."

Aris closed her hand around Anya's and smiled, "Good. Because I'd go to hell and back for you. You aren't getting rid of me that easily."

Their eyes met, a hint of things that neither could quite say yet drifted between them.

"Aris, there's something I've been meaning to..."

Aris's heart skipped a beat when Anya's grin began to spread across her lips. When she spoke, Aris clung to her every word.

"Sammi says you have a pillow with my face on it. Is that true?"

Aris fell off of the stool with a squeak.

"Alright, everyone, here's the situation."

Anya stood at the head of the galley table. The crew, who had been scattered around the room in quiet conversation, slowly settled into their seats. Sammi was in the middle of telling Kenji a story that involved a zero-G bar and a stolen pet rock, but even she trailed off as Anya’s newly restored authority filled the space.

Brody stood silently in the corner, playing patty cake with Becks. His optical sensor a steady, observant blue while attending to the giggling girl.

Anya felt a sense of calm that would have been impossible just hours before. The conversation with Aris hadn't just been a confessional; it had been a recalibration. She felt... whole.

And maybe even a little more smitten, if that were possible.

Business first, Anya.

"Before my little incident, I spoke with Margot," Anya began, her voice level and clear. The crew leaned in. "She was... pleased with our progress."

Sammi snorted. "Pleased we didn't run off to the Red Mile, maybe.

"That, too," Anya allowed a small smile. "But she also passed on some new intelligence. A private bounty was posted on the Crimson Fleet network. Five million credits for the safe return of a 'valuable' child matching Becks's description."

The easy smiles around the room evaporated.

Irwin let out a low, dramatic groan. "Five million? We'll have every gutter-rat from here to the Serpentis system sniffing at our airlocks."

Lena's face had transformed into a mask of cold, tactical focus. "We're a fixed target. Any trip planetside will be a high-risk engagement. We need to rethink this. All of it."

Robin simply looked at Anya, his expression grim, his hand resting on the grip of his sidearm. The Guardian was "officially" back on duty.

"Douchebags!" Sammi slammed a fist on the table. "When I figure out who--"

"I know," Anya said, meeting their concerned gazes. "Any thought of quietly trying to do anything is off the table. Trying to sneak around is exactly what they'll expect. We'd be sold out and picked off the moment we tried to hire a shuttle." She let the weight of their impossible situation settle for a beat.

"But, we have a secret weapon: Margot."

A look of confusion passed between the crew.

Anya's smile turned sharp, a flash of Valiant Bravo's cunning breaking through. "We're not going to hide. We're going to do the last thing they'd ever expect. We're going to hide in plain sight. We're going to make the most visible, most bombastic, most ridiculously over-the-top arrival in the history of Akila City. We're going to fly in with the theme music blasting and practically roll out a red carpet. Margot's already got the film crews in place."

Kenji's eyes widened. "A psychological counter-offensive! Brilliant!"

"We'll be so far in the spotlight," Robin said, a slow grin spreading across his face as he understood the plan, "that no one would dare make a move."

Anya nodded, her gaze sweeping across the faces of her friends, her family. "They think they're hunting a bunch of scared actors. I've got news for them: that girl left the ship hours ago.

No, we're going to give them a parade."

She planted her hands on the table, her voice dropping into the confident, charismatic register they all knew so well.

"It's time to do what we do best."

Anya leaned against the table as the crew left the galley, each ready to light fire big enough to burn the galaxy. But her eyes lingered on Aris as she slinked out toward the galley door. She looked back, trying not be noticed, to get another look at Anya.

Their eyes touched for brief, exciting moment, that ended when Aris crashed into the door frame and down the corridor.

"The more things change, the more they stay the same," she mused wistfully as Brody trundled over, an amused Becks riding on her shoulders.

"Anya," she giggled. "Brody wants to tell you something!"

"Oh? Have you come to assault me with your devastating wit again, Mr. Sofa?"

The robot's head dipped, then whined as he looked at Anya.

"The opposite, in truth. I fear I may have been party to your predicament earlier. I apologize."

She considered her mechanical sparring partner for moment before nodding.

"No harm, no foul."

Brody's body whine as he emulated a look of relief.

"But don't be surprised if you wake up with a pair of eyebrows drawn on your head after your next charging cycle."

Brody's optical sensor flared yellow as his head cocked up and to the side.

"Why would you draw..."

His optical sense went dark as Anya broke into a laugh. Becks laughed to, if only just to laugh.

"I loathe you."

The grumpy robot trundled off, taking the laughing child with him.