Chapter 2: The Ties that Unbind

	“Okay, seriously,” Nai blurts, he and Kel following Trion closely further into the ship, “What’s going on, and who--”
	“Names,” Trion says.
	“What--”
	“Your names, unless you’re perfectly okay with getting called Shelly and Click for the rest of your stay.”
	“I-I’m Nai Noirdan,” Nai answers, slowly aiming a finger toward Kel. “And he’s…”
	Kel hesitates, keeping a close eye on Trion and trying to get any hint of the look he might be wearing on his face. “Kelenco Lexton.”
	“Noirdan and Lexton then,” the captain grunts, stopping to turn and face them with his arms crossed and give them another onceover. “Captain Trion Kurie; I run this ship. And to my knowledge, the only one the Feds are really interested in is Lexton over here…” He lifts his gun up, pressing it to Nai’s forehead. “You, my expendable little voodoo child, would do best to pull your own weight during this operation or I’ll have absolutely no qualms with ridding the ship of dead weight. Stay out of the way and do as I tell you to and I don’t blow your brains out. Understand?”
	“Just what is your fucking deal?!” Kel snarls, getting right up in his face. “You lay a finger on him and I’m bailing; I don’t give a fuck WHAT Baklenn told you to do!”
	Trion aims his gun at Kelenco’s face now, slowly trailing down toward his knees. “I was told to keep you alive and out of the Feds hands; not a single word about what state I should leave your kneecaps in. I dare you to try and make an exit; I could use a good laugh.” The two glare at each other for a few moments; Kel gulps hard, but seems to have no further complaints. “As I thought,” Trion sighs, putting his gun away and pointing a finger back. “Upstairs, take a hard right. Chill in the kitchen for a bit; get a snack, take a nap, I don’t care. I’m getting us the hell out of here, and we’ll work the rest of it out in the morning.”
	They watch him turn and walk off, assumedly toward the cockpit, without so much as another grunt. With little else to do, they do just as instructed and find the kitchen within moments; dimmed manatek lights embedded in the floor light the way with a blue glow. A fridge, stove, and microwave; counters and cabinets lining the right wall, an island counter with three stools in the middle of the room, and a booth pressed against the left wall.. Though the exterior of the ship was an eyesore, the interior so far seemed to be quite comfortable.
	“This is all fucktastic,” Kel sighs, the two of them curled up in the booth. “Hunted down by the Feds for fuck knows why, and then Baklenn sets us up with a psychopath and a ship that looks ready to plop right out of the sky.”
	Unable to suppress a sob, Nai buries his face into his knees; he fidgets with his gloves with his arms wrapped around his legs. “K-Kel… I’m scared…”
	Kel sighs deep, wrapping an arm around his friend and blankly looking straight up at the ceiling. “Hang in there; I’m sure this guy wants to pass us off to someone else as quick as he can find someone. As long as we lay low, shit should blow over for a bit.”
	“B-but Baklenn got caught and…” Nai lifts his head up to look over, tears welling up. “He could be dea--”
	Kel wastes no time in pulling Nai even closer, pressing his head close to his chest. “Bakkie’s more stubborn than a mugoat; if he went down, he sure as hell went down fighting.” He tries to fight back his own tears, but isn’t surprised when they go rolling down his cheeks and dropping onto Nai’s cap. “Please just try to get some sleep.”
	“How could we possibly sleep after everything that’s happened!?”
	“I… I don’t know,” Kel mutters, releasing Nai and getting up to lay on the other side of the booth. “But we have to try.”
	They both lay down; Nai keeps an eye on Kel from underneath the table, though the other boy has his back turned to him.
	“Kel…,” he says just above a whisper, “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to you… is it?”
	Receiving no answer but silence, Nai turns over and closes his eyes, doing whatever he can in his power to block out tonight’s events and fade into slumber. The ship begins to stir and vibrate; soon they’d be up in the air with no way of knowing where they’d land, if at all.
	It’d taken a few hours of work, but he’d managed; Trion had relocated the Maiden’s into a secluded area of Tier 3 affectionately named “The Pirate’s Den” by those who knew of its existence. The ship safely shrouded in shadow even as the sun begins to rise in the distance, he slumps back in his chair with a groan, rubbing a hand up his forehead and pushing his bangs back; he’d gotten them out of harm’s way for the time being, but relief was still so far off.
	“I can’t believe they got that lead just nine hours after me… Thought I had at least a day,” he moans to himself, sluggishly wiping at his tired eyes. “Knew it when I fuckin’ saw him. Shoulda scooped him up then and there.” He pauses to give the ceiling a blank stare. “No… That wouldn’t have worked either. Fuck…” He closes his eyes, tensing up and slamming his fists down on the armrests of his chair. “FUCK!” After a few moments, he slowly opens his eyes again and relaxes his shoulders. “...fuck.”
	The ship’s humming and groaning had disappeared - when, Nai and Kelenco couldn’t say. The noise of metal grinding and workers yelling out on the docks was completely drowned out; as shaky as the Maiden’s Kiss looked, it was at least well insulated. Instead, they’re greeted to the sounds of spoons and spatulas clinking against pots and pans, the soft hum of a woman’s voice, and the smell of what was shaping up to be an absolutely delicious breakfast.
	The booth benches had not been kind; both teens stifle a small pained groan as they sit up and stretch. Looking over, they see a delicate frame standing at the stove, the blonde hair reaching halfway down her back and a long, fluffy black tail with a white tip swaying in time with her hips.
	Standing up, Kelenco walks over and take a glance at the stove over her shoulder. With a wipe of his eye, he groggily asks, “Are those… buttermilk pancakes with chocolate chips in them?”
	The woman’s light blue eyes go wide; she whips around with a scream, grabbing a wooden spoon in both hands and holding it straight out in front of her. Kel goes cross-eyed as the tip just barely clears his nose, he slowly raises both hands to show he means no harm. “P-please don’t spoon me, ma’am; I’m pretty sure that’s illegal in most territories.”
	A small roll of her eyes and a flick to his nose later, she puts the spoon back down on the counter; it’s only now she realizes the absolutely exhausted look in his eyes. “Oh jeez… I’m so sorry, honey. Um…” She leans to either side to look behind Kel at the booth, spotting Nai. “Oh, there’s two of you?” She chuckles nervously. “W-wow, I didn’t even notice you guys when I came in! Sorry. But, uh… If you don’t mind me asking, where exactly did you two come from?”
	Kel and Nai sit at the island counter while the woman continues to cook, explaining everything that had happened over the last night. She slides a generous serving of pancakes, eggs, and sausage in front of either of them, then pours them glasses of milk; they waste no time practically inhaling the food.
	“But seriously,” Kel continues between bites, “I don’t know how or why the hell Baklenn got us roped in with that… psychopath.”
	“So that’s why my psychopath senses were tingling,” Trion grunts, standing in the door fresh out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his bare shoulders. “Mornin’.”
	“Good morning, honey!” the woman chimes with a bright smile, rushing over to wrap her arms around his neck and pull herself up for a kiss on his cheek. Both boys spit their milk out, coughing and scrambling for napkins to wipe their mouths. “So, Trion… did you by any chance happen to forget to tell me something?”
	“Hmm…” He rubs at his bearded chin, feigning a pondering look, and then a shocked one. “Oh yeah! We’re out of rum; kinda finished the last bottle off last night.”
	“Oh ha ha,” Kel snorts, rolling his eyes and throwing his napkin down on the counter.
	Trion holds one hand out toward the boys and one toward the woman as he introduces, “Excess baggage, meet the wife; wife, excess baggage. I see you’ve already gotten comfortable with one another.”
“O-oh dear, I never bothered to properly introduce myself, did I?” Aisha says, clapping a hand to her cheek in embarrassment. “Aisha Kurie.” She smiles wide. “You can call me Mom!”
“Just Aisha will do,” Trion mutters, walking over to the stove. “Might wanna get some more stuff on the griddle; the rest of the gang’ll be up soon.”
Kel leans in close to Nai, whispering, “How the hell does a raving masochist like him get that kind of an angel for a wife?” Nai shrugs.
“I got down on one knee and gave her a ring; how the fuck do you think?” Trion grumbles just loud enough for them to hear as he dishes up a plate.
“I don’t believe I got your names,” Aisha says, now standing next to them.
“O-oh,” Nai stammers as both teens sit straight up, forcing a smile. “Name’s Nai Noirdan. Real swell to meet you, and thanks for the breakfast.”
“Sweet, heavenly pancake breakfast,” Kel sighs in rapture. “Uh… Kelenco Lexton.”
“EEE, they’re so adorable!” Aisha squeaks, hugging Nai tight. “Hon, can we keep them?” Turning to set his plate down on the island counter, Trion responds with nothing more than a bland raise of his eyebrow. “Aaanywaaay… Why don’t you two take a walk around the ship and get yourself a little more acquainted? Hubby and I need to have a chat.”
No sooner are they out in the hallway, Kel mutters, “How long before she starts yelling d’ya think?”
“Hopefully not at all,” Nai groans, slumping his shoulders. “There was enough yelling last night.”
	“I’m gonna head further up,” Kel says, pointing toward the stairs a few feet away. “Still need to find the bathroom. Comin’ with?”
	“Actually, I think I’d like to take a look at the engine room… I’m really curious just what they’ve got on this thing.”
	“Well, don’t come cryin’ to me when you’re pissing your pants,” Kelenco shrugs, starting his ascent.
	Though it was safe to assume the sun was out by now, the ship is still just as dim as it was when they entered; glowing blue lights in the floors and ceilings and the light of a few keypads along the wall illuminate the way. Kelenco doesn’t get too far upstairs before he can practically feel the bass vibrating through the floor as someone blasts some sort of grunge-techno genre mix. He cringes a bit as he comes across the door to the room it must be coming from, stepping back a bit when it slides open and a short young woman tying her medium-blonde hair up into a ponytail bumps into him with no regard.
	“Watch where you’re--” she begins to say, backing up and dropping her arms to her sides to stare with cadet blue eyes. “Who the hell are you?” She pulls her Commi out of her pocket, sidestepping to aim it back in her room and turn the music off. “Lucaaas?”
	“I’m the guy questioning your taste in music, and I’m pretty sure I’m not the first,” Kel smirks.
	A hard roll of her eyes, she slides her Commi back into her pocket, closes the door, and shoves past. “Better than whatever shit you listen to. Probably a bunch of wimpy dudes in baggy clothing whining about how life sucks when they’re not high.”
	“That’s…!” Kel begins to retort, stopping to think on it. “Wow, that was actually pretty spot on.”
	“Lucas!” she snaps, rapping her knuckles against the bathroom door. “The fuck’s going on?”
	“What do you mean?” a young man says, opening the door to come out; once he stops drying his face, he reveals almost childlike features with pudgy cheeks and large brown eyes beneath pumpkin orange bangs. He immediately spots Kel, then gives the girl a shrug. “I’ve got nothing on this one. You ask Trion yet?”
	“Trion’s the one who took me and my friend in, yes,” Kel snorts, crossing his arms and walking over. “Aisha told me to explore, so that’s what I’m doing.”
	“I’m Lucas, the ship’s navigator,” the young man smiles, holding a hand out for a shake without missing a beat.
	Cautiously obliging, the Ashellina says, “Kelenco.”
	“Lia,” the girl says, crossing her own arms and cocking an eyebrow.
	Kelenco’s smirk grows. “You’re his daughter, aren’t you? I can see the resemblance.”
	Another roll of her eyes. “Really don’t get where everyone pulls this resemblance to Trion bull from. Guy’s a maniac.”
	Venturing further into the bowels of the ship, Nai finds himself in constant amazement; even though this model of airship had been decommissioned for a long while, its owners have managed to keep it intact and its primary parts updated. He calculated in his head, and it wasn’t long before he came to the conclusion they probably would have been much better off had they simply bought a new ship rather than keep this one running.
	Peeking in through the window of a metal door, he spots his target: the engine room. Sliding the door open, his steps echo against the grated floor. Large machines with all sorts of buttons, valves, and switches are lined up along the walkway; steam wafts up into the air and bright green mana flows through the pipes. Though the engines seem to be a mix of all sorts of things, they hum like that of a freshly manufactured and installed engine. The condensers, which pulled pure natural mana out of the air and pushed it through to all the machines as energy, shine well enough for the boy to see his own reflection; they were definitely well taken care of, probably more so than they actually needed.
	“Gosh, I wonder who engineered all this…,” Nai gawks just above a whisper, walking further back into the room. “They must be a genius…”
	As he turns the corner, he hears a humming voice just over the whirr of the engines; Nai’s eyes travel first to the numerous amounts of posters displaying pop singers, especially one in particular named Liera, on the walls. A simple hammock hangs in the corner, as well as some crates holding clothes and other belongings, and two stacked on top of each other acting as a nightstand with a Commi Dock and some magazines on top.
	A man works away at one of the condensers in the very back, his hips and tail swaying as he sweeps away at the floor; just beyond the head of light blond hair and long black and cream ears sticking upward, Nai can spot a pair of headphones. He was tall, and muscular; if it weren’t for the lighter hair and even lighter disposition, Nai might almost mistake him for the captain. After a few a few spirited nods of his head to the beat, the man lifts his wrench to his mouth like a mic and begins to sing.
“Traveling on a shooting star,
No telling where it's going,
Maybe I'll get lucky and you will fall into my arms 'cause,
I'm sure you've journeyed long and far,
Come sit down next to me and,
I'll give you a shoulder that you can lean upon tonight!” 
He glances over at Nai, having to double-take to gape upon noticing someone was standing there. Quickly pulling his headphones out of his ears, he starts walking over. “Oh, hey… Didn’t hear anyone come in!” He slides his headphones into his pocket, offering his hand with a large smile; Nai gives him a nervous smile of his own, slowly grabbing the man’s hand and being met with a vigorous and slightly painful handshake. “I figure if you’ve made it down this far without Trion blowin’ a hole in your head, you’re prob’ly supposed to be here, so… Name’s Tojhinio Kurie! People call me Tojhie, or Tojh, and I guess you could keep going and call me To, or maybe just Tuh… but no one seems to do that. Dad tends to call me Moron though.” Tojhie’s smile somehow seems to get wider and doofier than it already was. “Hey, you want a soda? Got some in the cooler over here. I got cola, orange, grape…” He reaches into the cooler, pulling up a can and wagging it back and forth as he chimes, “Vanillaaa~”
Before Nai can answer either way, Tojhie simply hands him off a can while cracking open his own. The young boy looks down at it, murmuring, “Th-thanks… Been a pretty strange trip… I’m Nai, by the way.”
“Nai! Nice and short; easy to remember and hard to mess up. I like it!” Tojhie says, kneeling down to get a better look at him. “People tend to mess up my name a lot. It’s long and it’s got a random H in there.”
“Must admit, I’ve never met a Tojhinio before,” Nai says, finally cracking a genuine smile of his own. “I’m gonna guess you’re Trion and Aisha’s son, so… did they tell you where they got it?”
“Mom says Dad picked it out; something about his dad’s name or something,” Tojhie shrugs. “They don’t really talk about it though. They named Secilia after Mom’s dad I think.”
“Secilia?”
“Oh, my sis. She’ll probably be downstairs soon if you wanna meet her. Lucas too! He’s our navigator. Oh, um, I guess I’m the official mechanic on the ship. Dad does some stuff too; he actually ran this entire ship by himself for a long time! Can you believe it?”
“W-wow…,” Nai says, honestly surprised. “I didn’t even know that was possible!”
“He’s real smart. I’d love to be like him.” Tojhie stops to think. “Well, except for the being a dick to everyone part. That gets old pretty quick.”
“You definitely look a lot like him.”
Rubbing a finger under his nose, Tojhie says, “That’s what a lot of people say! Mom says I remind her a lot of Dad when he was younger.”
“Er… Really, what does your mom see in him anyway?” Nai asks cautiously, looking down at his soda. “He doesn’t seem very… nice.”
“She usually tells me something like, “Have you SEEN his pecs?” or, “The way he dances makes me swoon,” but I ain’t ever seen him dance or nothin’. She does love him an awful lot though.” He cracks a smile again. “All things considered, I love him a lot too; he’s a jerk, but he keeps us all taken care of. I’m sure he’ll take care of you, too.”
“Heh… I sure hope so,” Nai sighs, taking a sip.
Over the course of the day, Nai and Kelenco spend most of their time getting to know the two Kurie siblings and Lucas; Aisha stayed in the kitchen preparing food to be canned or frozen for storage, and Trion hid away in his workshop.
Hanging out in Secilia’s room and playing video games while debating music choices, it almost felt like nothing was wrong. Lia warned them not to get used to it; it was rare they had a day where Trion didn’t have a laundry list of errands and tasks for them to get done by the end of the day. Nai and Kel exchanged their own stories of dealing with Baklenn, doing their best not to break down.
Eventually, Aisha rang everyone down for dinner; Tojhie, Lia, and Lucas filed into one side of the booth while Kelenco and Nai took the other, setting down their bowls and plates of a strange herb and meat stew and dinner rolls.
“Oh, you guys want something to drink?” Aisha says, sliding her oven mitts off and heading for the fridge. “I’ll put out some soda and a pitcher of water, that okay?”
“Thank you,” the five young adults call out together, getting a satisfied chuckle out of Aisha.
“So… You know, I’ve really been trying not to ask; I know it’s rude,” Lucas says, setting his spoon down, “but you said the Feds are after you?”
“Yeah… Started chasing us down during the middle of the night,” Kel sighs, tearing his roll in half and dipping it into his stew to soak up some of the broth. “We’ve been so damn busy at the docks, I don’t know how we could have possibly done anything to catch their attenti--”
A plate clatters to the table; Trion sets his bowl of stew on top, sliding in next to Kelenco. The five watch as he nonchalantly starts eating; after a few moments of silence, he glances around at them. “Oh, I’m sorry; you want me to say ‘grace’ or some shit? Eat.”
“You two ever have traditional Uyka cooking?” Aisha asks, preparing her own plate and sitting at the island counter.
“No, ma’am,” Nai answers. “It’s different, but it’s good!”
“And good for you,” she says, sitting up straight. She deepens her voice and says in a thick accent, “Make you strong and limber! That’s what my mother always used to say.”
“Sooo,” Kel says, leaning back in his seat and looking up at Trion. “A mercenary, eh? What exactly does that entail other than shooting Feds in the middle of the night and taking off with a couple of kid strangers?”
Trion looks straight down at him, making it a point to slurp a spoonful of stew as loud as he can muster; he takes a moment to savor the cringe of disgust looking back at him. “Oh, you know… Contractor work, lugging cargo, murdering innocent women and children so I can build military grade weapons of mass destruction… Boring stuff, really.”
Lucas laughs loudly, kicking Trion under the table. “A laugh riot as always, sir…”
“So… You work with your family, right?” Nai asks, fidgeting with his napkin. “In Azarian culture we really value family a lot, and…”
“Oh, yeah; family’s real important around here,” Trion says, taking a huge bite out of his roll. “We spend lots of time together. Lots and lots of cherished memories, right kids?”
“Never a dull day with Dad around, that’s for sure,” Tojhie smiles.
“Hey, you guys remember that time he dragged us out to Ground Zero to play hide and seek and almost killed us?” Lia chimes with a friendly smile, prompting an nervous chuckle out of Tojhie and Lucas.
“Now THAT is a good one,” Kel laughs, pointing at her with a cheeky grin.
Lia’s expression falls completely deadpan. “No, he really did that. Twice, actually.”
Lucas nearly chokes on his food at her response, coughing and sputtering and forcing it down with a large drink of water; the whole kitchen falls awkwardly silent for a few moments. Trion finishes his meal and looks over how tense everyone around him has become, inhaling deep and letting out a loud whistle with a raise of his eyebrows as he gets to his feet to put his dishes in the sink. Lucas clears his throat and gets up to do the same.
“Right, so…,” Trion says, clapping and rubbing his palms together, standing over the table to watch the others finish, “I’d suggest heading off to bed early tonight; we’ve got a long day of figuring out what to do with our major minorities problem over here, plus gig hunting so we can keep the payroll steady.”
“Yeah, payroll,” Lia snorts, getting up to wash her dishes.
Trion arches an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry; I meant allowance. Speaking of which,” he walks around the island counter to take Lia by either shoulder, quickly ushering her out toward the hall against her will, “Isn’t it past your bedtime, little girl?”
“I’m eighteen now god damn it!” she snaps.
	“My ship, my rules, blah blah blah.”
	Aisha sighs and looks to Kel and Nai with a smile. “I’ll take care of your plates, okay? I cleaned up the spare cabin a bit; Lucas, could you be a dear and show them where it is?”
	“Sure thing,” Lucas nods, giving them a smile of his own.
	“You kids make yourselves at home up there.”
	“Please don’t!” Trion’s voice echoes down the hall from near the cockpit, getting a snicker out of everyone in the kitchen.
	Just as Aisha asked, Lucas made sure to point out the guest cabin, showing them where any toiletries or extra blankets they may need are after handing off a spare t-shirt and pair of shorts for both to change into, and heads back downstairs. The room was simple and appeared to be used as a storage closet most of the time; beyond the shelves lined with living supplies were two simple canvas cots.
	Beginning to strip down to his body suit, Nai sighs. “Kel, this family seems kinda…”
	“Absolutely batshit crazy?” Kel finishes, looking back over his shoulder as he starts to unzip his bodysuit. “Yeah, I kinda noticed, bud.” Changing into the t-shirt and shorts, he plops down onto the cot with his arms crossed behind his head and stares up at the dark ceiling.
	Nai, changed as well, slowly sits down on his own cot and leans forward against his knees. “Do… Do you think Gram and Rosi are okay?”
	Kelenco gently tugs and twists at the ends of a white ribbon wrapped around his neck, usually hidden under the collar of his body suit. “Yeah.”
	“Because I--”
	“They’re fine.”
	Falling silent, Nai crawls onto his cot and pulls the blanket up over him, laying with his back turned to his friend. “I wish I could stay as calm as you. I feel like I’m gonna lose my mind.”
	Kelenco clenches his free hand, yanking at his ribbon so tight he has to wince in pain.
	The air in the cockpit is tense and quiet. Trion sits in his captain’s seat, sliding his finger across holographic documents and articles regarding news all over Grand Celestre in the past 24 hours and finding very little of interest; even though Federation hovercopters were camped out in the trade center for hours and more than just a few gunshots were fired, there wasn’t a single media outlet reporting on it. There was no way they didn’t know; there had to be a gag order directly from the Federation.
	Standing at his side, Lucas looks over the articles as well. His fists have been clenched for a while now. This did not go unnoticed by Trion; he chose to ignore it, hoping either Lucas would speak up or go away, but finally grows irritated enough to lean to one side of his seat and give the navigator a slight scowl. “Oh, get it out of your system already.”
	Taking a deep breath, Lucas winds up and punches Trion straight in the jaw. Other than a flinch, the captain doesn’t budge; not in his seat, and not from glaring the young man right in the eye.
	“Did you think that was funny?!” Lucas snaps, taking a step back. “You hated those days, and then you go and joke about it in front of a couple of kids like it’s nothing! Do you have any fucking clue how much trouble you put everyone through with that?!” He turns away and paces a few feet, running his hands through his orange hair. “I swear to god, sir, it’s like you don’t even think before you talk half the time!”
	“I think a lot, DeMatteo,” Trion sighs, leaning forward with a hand to his chin. “I think too much, if anything.” He pauses, giving the holograms in front of him a tired look. “The past never really stays there, does it?”
	Calmed down, Lucas turns to face him with a frown. “What makes you say that, sir?”
	Bouncing his knee a few times, Trion eyes a folder at the bottom corner of his screen named ‘Iroshile’. “A lot of things, actually.”
	“Things… that are gonna put us all in a lot of danger again?” the navigator asks cautiously, beginning to skim the articles again. “What exactly are you looking for, anyway?”
	“I pulled up the news looking for news, naturally,” Trion chuckles, leaning back in his seat and looking over. “What are you looking for; an apology? The employment ads?”
	“Very funny,” Lucas snorts, cracking a smirk of his own. “But really… You promised you wouldn’t keep this kind of shit from us after Naomachi happened; not if it was putting our lives on the line.”
	“That’s the thing; I don’t really know what exactly is happening right now,” Trion groans, rubbing his temple. “I just-... These kids-... Everything about this is so hush-hush, and I-...”
	“At a loss for words, huh…,” Lucas murmurs, concerned. “That’s definitely not good.”
	“I need info,” Trion thinks aloud, switching his other hand to his chin and leaning the other way while he taps the fingers of his free hand against the armrest. “The kids don’t know shit. The guy who sent them didn’t know shit. The news doesn’t say shit. That means I don’t know shit either, which means we’re all in danger until I do, and who knows how long it’ll take; could be days, weeks, months--”
	The hologram display has a message start flashing; and incoming call from a private number. Letting it ring, Trion sits up. “DeMatteo, could you go help Aisha for a bit? I need to take this.”
	“Yes, sir,” Lucas nods quietly, taking one last glance at the screen before showing himself out.
	Looking back over his seat to make sure Lucas is gone and the door is shut, Trion presses a button to answer; streaming video of an older man with short gray hair and a few darker gray streaks toward the front, light yellow fur, and oval glasses framing his tired, judgmental brown eyes. “‘Bout time you picked up, kiddo.”
	“ Kiddo? Cripes, I’m gonna be 40 in a week,” Trion chuckles lightly. He sighs, stretching and rubbing his neck with clearly low hopes. “Not often you call me on the private line, Magnus; to what do I owe the honor?” 
	Taking a puff of a cigar, Magnus releases a sigh of his own. “The beacon’s wrecked.”
	Trion freezes, widening his eyes and staring for a few moments in quiet disbelief before asking just above a whisper, “Wh-what?”
	“Finished. Trashed. Destroyed. Kaput. Gone.”
	“What?!” The captain gawks, standing straight up in a rush; he struggles to speak with his heart practically beating in his throat but manages to ask, “Who? How?!”
	“Got some footage; hopin’ maybe you could tell me.” Another video slides onto the screen next to Magnus, apparently from some sort of security camera. It plays a few seconds and the older man pauses, drawing a circle around something. “See these two here?”
	“Yeah…,” Trion says, tilting his head a touch at the sight. “They did it?”
	“The tall one there,” Magnus says, referring to a tall man with spiky blue hair, gray-blue fur, and a long coat, “Shoved his way right through all our forces where he needed to; didn’t have much problem. Walked right up to the beacon and made a mess out of it. Now, I’ve seen all sorts of shit get dropped on that thing - hell, I watched you try to do a number to it just to prove a point - but this guy gave so little fucks he might as well run off to the fuckin’ nunnery. The smaller guy,” a young man with blue hair tied back in a long pony tail and white fur, “seemed to be leadin’ the way. You know either of these guys?”
	Trion stands there for a few moments desperately scanning the paused video for any sort of clue or sign. “I’ve never seen either of them before in my life.”
	The video continues onward, showing the men on their calm charge through the levels of Mashibu; Trion can’t help but turn away, clamping his eyes shut at the sight of Vanguards getting slaughtered left and right, screaming out in pain, anger, and fright between staticky pauses. He looks back to the video as if completely drained of energy, watching the tall man reach out toward an obelisk-like object, followed by a bright flash of light and the stone crumbling into pieces.
	“You know, kid,” Magnus grunts, pinching his cigar between his fingers, “I ain’t never liked your hunches; not one bit. You get a hunch about something, and suddenly the bodybags start piling up.” Pulling a flask from a pouch hanging off his belt, Trion takes a very large swig, followed by a very large breath. Not content, he instead simply settles on chugging the rest of the contents. “Now that you’re limbered up, you got any ideas?”
	“Not a fuckin’ one,” Trion groans, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. “I do got one thing though.”
	“And what’s that?”
	“Something of Kannel’s.”
	Magnus stares. “Trion, you are holding onto a ticking time bomb. If they catch you - If they find out what you’ve been doing, do you have any idea how FUCKED the rest of us are?”
	Trion drops his arms to his sides, slowly looking around the room while caught up in a whirlwind of his own thoughts. He squints his eyes, almost as if he’s in physical pain. “What do I do, Magnus?”
	The man on the other end sits in silence, watching his friend put a hand to his hip and lean forward a step to wipe at his eye with a forced chuckle. The expression that had been so hardened right from the moment Trion answered the phone begins to show a hint of concern. “What do you do, Trion?”
	Trion stands up straight, forcing a trembling smirk. There seem to be so many things trying to process in his head he goes into a daze, looking eerily relaxed while he stares at the screen and searches for an answer. He said he needed info; he got exactly what he wanted, and he desperately wished he hadn’t. And so, with a shuttered breath, he uttered three of the last words anyone ever wanted to hear out of him:
	“I don’t know.”