It was about midnight toward the end of the dark period when the weary four disembarked. The shadow of the giant still hung heavy over the smaller planet, though its grip weakened. A faint hint of sunlight dusted the soft edges of the larger sphere. Its glow imparted as much hope to the people who walked in darkness below as it had throughout eons before, even if their faith rested merely in space itself, as opposed to what dwelt beyond it. The Iolites stripped whatever spiritual significance this event once held and relegated its majesty to the trite and tired realm of basic astronomy, as if being the premier inter-galactic civilization had deprived them of some ancient aspect yet undefined.

  This concept didn’t escape Nash’s notice as their travels took them to increasingly strange corners of settled space. Here and there they encountered the most confounding creatures and even more confounding people. They were certainly more primitive than she, but who wasn’t? And yet, they seemed to grasp some intangible thread of a world beyond that she simply couldn’t see. Even Humanity, the established runners’ up in spatial advancement and scientific understanding, held within themselves this sense of sentimentality, or was it mere provincialism? She was certain Greg was starting to recognize the same themes she was, though what conclusion he would draw from them remained a mystery.

  It took every ounce of restraint she had not to inquire after the preliminary assessments being conducted in regard to Kory’s home world. She knew they had enough to deal with, and that her very real Toravai friends might feel a certain way about the equally real mining operations intended for their planet, but there was something besides Vercoden in those ruins calling to her. The mere presence of these structures illumined a secret wisdom her own culture purged long ago for its inconvenient implications. Could the same ancient quality have summoned her uncle to that windswept place over twenty years before, in quiet defiance of all common sense and tradition, or was he without understanding, blown along by the tide of forces unseen?

  She shook the arcane notions from her head for now, determined to revisit them later. It was time to park the ship and get everyone home to rest. The gleaming hangar opened before them, welcoming the Stardust into its spacious bays. Behind her sat the silent forms of Zol and Kory, noticeably less concussed than when she’d made the call to her uncle five days before. In spite of all they’d been through and the beatings they’d incurred, the Toravai continued to impress her with their ability to heal fast and do it all again. At this present time, they worried her less than Greg. He sat beside her, eyes forward, brow furrowed, and jaw clenched, tapping his fingers, and wiggling his leg the same way he did when they’d first picked him up. Moreso, he was atypically quiet: not a great sign. Nash wondered if anything besides the stresses of the last few weeks had him on edge. There seemed to be something more on his mind, though she judged it wasn’t the time to dig deeper.

  #

  A few hours later, with precious little of the long night remaining, Nash left the comfort of the apartment she shared with Kory and ventured again into the city. When she left, her dear friend slept peacefully in her own room at last, curled up amongst her piles of blankets and unfolded laundry, without a single care to weigh her down. Nash assumed Zol lay upstairs in a similar, if not more spartan state. It did her no good to imagine him sleeping, so she tried not to. She knew for a fact his roommate was gone. Greg rushed off after the dinner she’d made them all, muttering about needing to go check in on the golf course business, or something to that effect.

  It was necessary for her to wait until the others were out of commission to make her next move. Another routine meeting with her uncle wouldn’t have called for this level of subterfuge. On the chilly streets, she was one of the few Iolites out and about, and she didn’t fit the image of the ones who were. Before she reached her destination she stopped into a little foreign-owned coffee shop for a much-needed espresso. She was sure she’d passed this location a thousand times before but hadn’t noticed it until now. Did it only appear in the darkest hours? Was there a different version of her city that blossomed while she slept? These and other thoughts tumbled around in her head as the caffeine began to work its magic.

  By some miracle, her instinct had been right. With no prior research to his whereabouts, she found him. Nash stood on the street in front of a three-story night club. Her target leaned against the railing of a second-floor balcony with his back turned. He didn’t see her, but she needed no introduction. If anything, she needed to teach him how to be less of an eyesore. Inside the club, she checked her coat and headed to one of the bars on the ground level, careful to avoid any line of sight from above. She ordered a drink and resolved to finish it fast before heading upstairs. She didn’t do that often, but the espresso was espressoing so she thought it better to balance the scales a bit. Edge without confidence wouldn’t get her anywhere.

  On the second floor she saw him right away, standing at a counter with his arm around the waist of a pretty little Reccorshan woman. He whispered something in her ear which made her giggle so deviously, before raising his head to wink at a man who sat in a booth across the room. Once he received his drink, he gave the feathered girl another squeeze before leaving her side with a knowing smile. Something in her gold eyes had this wild and wired quality, as if whatever he'd just said would make her evaporate into a cloud on the spot. Nash watched him carefully as he rejoined his male companion. They talked for a while, until her patience was exhausted. It didn’t take long. Something about the noise in this place emboldened her to interrupt them. Better to catch him off guard anyway.

  “Sohrab,” Nash smiled as she appeared before the table. The subtle widening of his eyes and tightening of his lips was just enough to validate her decision to strike. “I’m so sorry to intrude!” She practically sang.

  “Never!” He insisted, taking her hand while still keeping his eyes on his colleague. “I couldn’t turn down a friend.” She took his meaning, understanding he was playing a part for the Earthling man who sat opposite him. “This is Nash, Encarnacion, I mean. We grew up here… together! Nash, this is Vito Amano, an associate of mine who does some work up and down the western Atlantic coast.” He gestured across the table at the olive-skinned Human with the slicked back undercut and reserved demeanor.

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  “How’s it going,” Vito mumbled, with a newfound uncertainty for the position in which he found himself. “Listen, I think we got it all squared away, I mean if you…” he said, addressing Sohrab.

  “Absolutely, talk soon,” Sohrab responded, briefly brushing Vito’s hand with his own as he cracked a sly grin. “The stars and all that.”

  “You have a good night,” Vito said, as he rose from the table.

  Sohrab responded with a smile and a gaze held a little too long, before gesturing to Nash to take the now empty seat across from him. Once he was certain the Earthling was out of view, he dropped the fa?ade with a groan so dramatic it could pass for theater.

  “He seemed like something,” Nash raised an eyebrow at him, sipping accusingly from her glass as she sat up straight in the seat that still reeked of cologne and fear.

  “If you only knew the half of it.” Sohrab lowered his head into his hands and rubbed his temples. Nash was happy she caught him in this moment. Something about the whole interaction had lowered his guard and made him more receptive than she expected, the circumstances of their parting notwithstanding. After a brief moment of languishing, he raised his head and finished the rest of his drink. He lifted his hand to flag down a waiter. “Next one’s on you. What do you want?” The veil had dropped indeed.

  “So that guy was…” She hoped to chip further away at him with her assumption.

  “No,” his eyes narrowed at her. “But he seems to think so, and I let him believe what he wants because it benefits me. Besides… he’ll never say what he means. I know his mind, and that he’s a coward more than anything… gives me some leverage I suppose.”

  “Wow.” Nash’s eyes widened sarcastically as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “He likes to be pushed around a little, don’t let it concern you.” He turned, smiling, and waving again at the woman by the bar from earlier.

  “You just tell them what they want to hear.” Nash jeered, hoping her campaign to diminish him wasn’t having the opposite effect.

  “And? You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want the same,” he retorted. “Come on,” He gestured towards the door to the balcony on the edge of the room and started to rise from his seat, accepting both glasses from the waiter who’d arrived just in time. “You can’t even smoke in these damned Human-owned places.”

  Nash, though not a smoker herself, empathized with his vexation. It was a long-held tradition of the Earthlings not to smoke indoors, even centuries after their ventilation technology had caught up to the rest of the galaxy’s. This insistence upon clinging to a sentimental old habit, even in the face of logic, bothered Nash out of simple principle. It bothered Sohrab too because he enjoyed smoking, especially indoors. He handed her one of the glasses and lit his cigarette just before crossing the threshold, predicting the wind would render him a fool trying to do it outside. The spring night was still cold, but Nash did her best to suppress the conscious desire for the coat she’d abandoned. She didn’t want him to hear any of her louder thoughts, so she stood nearer to the wall as he leaned against the railing.

  “So that’s how you found me,” Sohrab said, looking over his shoulder at the street below. “How clever of you.”

  “This isn’t really what you want is it,” Nash got right to the point.

  “Of course not,” he snapped. “This balcony’s terrible and so is the rest of this place, but you people don’t have anything good open this time of night so look at what I’m left with.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant,” she lowered her voice knowingly.

  “And just what do you think you meant?” he asked coyly, figuring he could intimidate her. He hated just how quickly she saw through the act. And yet, he persisted in posturing like a cobra, confident in his image alone.

  “You started doing whatever it is you do now before we took you on that trip to New Galveston.” She took a careful sip from her glass, and hid her disappointment at the taste and the lack of warmth it should have had.

  “So?” He remarked before tossing a handful of hair over his shoulder.

  “There would have been no reason for you to join us at all if this whole life you’re living wasn’t worth it for its own sake,” she had him cornered. He continued to take insolent drags of his cigarette, powerless to stop her conclusion. “There’s something out there you want, and we’re your ticket to it. This line of work you’re in might show you around this planet, even places on Earth with that other guy, but we both know that’s not enough. Your questions weren’t answered on your world. If anything, you came back with more.”

  “I really don’t have some grand plan you know,” he said, lowering his guard a bit.

  “Not yet you don’t,” her eyes brightened. She let her momentum fill the space between them, banishing all frigidity with its energy and vibration. “The things we’ve seen in such a short time would amaze you, things so strange, fearful, and bizarre. Search my mind and you’ll know it to be true.” Nash had no way to know if he’d confirmed nor denied her invitation, but she could see his countenance take on a more intense and earnest quality than before. Sohrab let his gaze wander to the sky for a moment, as if to cleanse his head of some unwanted vision. Before responding to her he took another long gulp from the cocktail, wincing just a bit as he shook his head.

  “You’re offering, what? A summons? If I ‘can’t be trusted,’ there must be a catch.” He scoffed, more than comfortable to slur and sway a little bit. He welcomed the looseness. It would make it that much easier to tell her just what she could do with her ‘generous’ offer.

  “There’s no catch,” her voice softened. She placed a hand gently on his forearm. “You were right. We always needed your help.” There was nothing more to be said. Even if he was ashamed it took so little for him to surrender, the game was over. Sohrab was back in.