Wake up, girl.

The voice followed me into my exhausted sleep. Every fiber of my being was worn out, shredded, done.

“I didn't take you for a quitter, and these vents are less comfortable than I remember.”

I struggled back to the surface, but saw no one else in the room.

“Up here.”

In the tiny ceiling vent, I could see something flickering. No, someone holding something dark against the light mesh.

“Granny?”

“Hold still, child. A sheath would have been better, but then you’d have to deal with it on your end.”

While my mind wrapped around her words, a slim shape appeared from the grills of the vent, and slowly I could make out a knife as it slid between the bars. It hovered in the air, then, finally, I could just make out the glistening fine thread that held it suspended.

Unfortunately, it was being lowered a meter past my feet.

“Um, Granny?”

“I'm not blind. Hold on.” Unhurriedly ,she began to swing the blade towards me. The sharp edge captivated my gaze as it approached, then retreated, then swung again closer.

“There we go.”

With an almost inaudible plop, the blade flew free at the height of its arc, landing on the fabric of my thin gown.

“You can pull it the rest of the way with the fabric.”

I had just enough flex in my right arm to reach the hem of my gown. I gathered it one pinch at a time until, slowly, the thin covering carried the knife towards the curve of my hip.

“Almost done, there you go.” Her words were reassuring, if I didn’t think about the rest of the situation.

“What are you doing here,” I whispered, my eyes fixed as the blade moved closer and closer to my hand.

“Busting you out. What did you think?”

Finally, the knife tumbled down my hip and, by forcing my hand through the restraint as far as I could, I finally gripped the blade.

Carefully I turned it in my hand until, bending my wrist back on itself, the blade reached the edge of the restraint. I worked at the bond, sawing through one fiber at a time.

My focus was so intense I didn't hear her until she spoke my name.

“Zayda,” she repeated. “Would you mind trying to work the blade further over on the side of your arm?”

I paused, blinked. “What?”

“That knife is one of my sharpest. I'd rather you didn't bleed out mid-rescue.”

I looked again, this time focusing past the restraint to the shallow cuts I’d already made on the inside of my wrist. That made sense.

I’d nearly worked all the way through the strap holding my right arm down when, with a quiet click, the door unlatched.

Granny scooted out of sight down the vent faster than I’d have believed from someone her age. Quickly, I twisted as far as I could to the left, sliding the knife under the edge of my right hip, hoping that the trailing length of the thread would be unnoticed.

When Stanton entered, the flare of emotion in my chest made me clench my jaw. His betrayal of me, of the Agency I thought we both believed in, knocked the foundations of my world. As much as I’d craved his approval before, I hated him now.

Still, a small part of me insisted this was all a terrible mistake. That he'd save me, like he had when I was a child.

But the coldness in his expression when his gaze swept over my body killed that hope for all time.

“I've been recalled to the Compound, so we won't be seeing each other again.”

“The where?” my mind whirled, trying to remember an installation with that name. “Back to the Agency?”

“You really are turning out to be a disappointment. Do try to keep up with the situation.” He shook his head and glanced at his chrono.

My finger brushed against the edge of the knife under my hip.

He was within reach.

At this point, I was quite familiar with the sharpness of the blade.

It would be so easy. One quick slash across his throat.

Either he didn't see the heat in my eyes, or he didn't care.

“I know you're worried about your new pet. So, I've arranged for you to see him one more time.”

My hand moved away from the knife. Mack was alive, and here. I could wait.

“Unfortunately, my shuttle leaves too soon for me to stay and watch your reunion.”

Despite everything, the words spilled from me. “All of these years, all of the time you spent training me. None of it mattered?”

He halted by the door. “It mattered. You were useful for longer than expected. But, in the end, you were a disposable tool. Why do you think I recruit from the Lowers?” He laughed, that easy sound I’d come to treasure, and it ripped a hole in me. “Not for any sense of redeeming society’s dregs. You came from nothing. No one will miss you.”

The door closed behind him and I shook silently in the bed. I could scream for hours and still not empty out the well of hurt. And it wouldn’t do any good, anyway.

I got back to work.

“It’s all lies,” I whispered.

“Not everything, child. Not your man. I saw how you looked at each other. There’s no other truth that matters.”

I examined the right restraint. Almost there. With grim determination, I started sawing at it again.

“You were taken before I had control of the station back yet, I’m sorry. We’re about ready to move in. Once you’re free, we’ll get you out of here.”

“No. Not without Mack.”

“Child,” the voice was soft now. “I think it’s too late for him.”

‘You wouldn’t have left Bryn.”

The rustling in the vent stopped. “I figured you were smart. You’re very, very smart.”

“Since I’m stuck here for a bit, why don’t you tell me a story, Granny. I’ll owe you a favor, later.”

She chuckled, and I heard her get comfortable, or as comfortable as one could in an air shaft.

“Bryn and I had a life of adventure. We never wanted to settle down. He would have given me the universe. And he was my entire universe.”

“What changed?”

“We had a baby. A little girl. And suddenly, we wanted more.” She paused, and I stopped working, waiting for her next words.

“A home. We started building one. We’d never really kept track of what we’d made off with. The credits were never the point. It was the game, the excitement. Being together. There was enough. More than enough.”

“Where did you go?”

“Right here, where else?”

“You moved to the station?” With a snap, the final section of the right restraint came free. I flexed my hand and rolled to the left as far as I could, but the locked clasp defeated me.

“No, we built it.”

With a sigh, I started cutting again, then her words caught up to me. “You built Orem Station?”

“It never was Orem. Aurum. Gold. Our pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.” She laughed, softly. “He liked puns, that man.”

“In the beginning, it was all a bit like the Under. A fantastic haven for all comers. In time, merchants came, and then buyers, until it sorted itself out into Levels, classes. Just like a damn Cilurnum station. But people did what they wanted, stayed within our admittedly loose guidelines, and we were happy.”

The left restraint was easier to demolish, and, happily, with fewer cuts on my arm. I started on my ankles.

“What happened?”

“When Sallia grew up, she fell in love. He wouldn’t have been my choice for her. But that would have been hypocritical, wouldn’t it? A rich man, but not an honest pirate. Just a merchant. Maybe when we told her stories she only heard about the risk, the dangers, but I wished she’d had more love for adventure.”

“In time, Bryn and I decided to share more of the responsibility with them, and when Tyon was born, you could have powered the station with our happiness.”

The family in the holocube. They had looked happy, sweet for a family of pirates and smugglers and...

“Wait. Tyon?” The knife almost dropped from my hand and I scrambled to catch it before it fell to the deck, out of reach. “Tyon Valsi, the governor, is your grandson?”

“I know. I don’t know how he turned out to be such a bastard. Every time I tried to suggest that he make different friends, was going down the wrong path, he threw my past in my face.”

There wasn’t anything to say to that.

“And when Bryn died… most of me did as well. I ceded control entirely, returned to the first hive Bryn and I had built while we were working on the rest of the station. Let life roll on without me.”

She fell silent. I didn’t ask anything else, just imagined what it would be like to have that sort of life, the risk of loving someone so much that when they died, part of you did, too.

Like I loved Mack.

“Granny, you said you had people on the way, right?” The left ankle finally came loose. One to go.

“They’ll storm the compound as soon as we’re clear.” She sighed. “Poor little bastard doesn’t even know he’s lost control yet. I expect he’ll throw a tantrum when he does.”

It might have been a stupid decision, but it was the only one I could live with. “You should go, now. Start the assault.”

“Girl.” She paused. “Zayda. You’re still trapped.”

“So’s Mack.” I looked up towards the vent, wishing I could see more than shadow, and forced a smile. “Thanks for the knife.”

She snorted. “I’ll expect it back when we come and get you.”

“Come get us both.”

The rustling faded away, and I focused on getting free from the last strap.

This time, I didn’t hear the door when it opened.

Valsi strutted in, looked at my free arms, and shrugged. “It’s not going to make a difference.”

Two uniformed guards followed, dragging Mack between them, covered in blood. They threw him into the far corner, and he lay still, limp.

My hands flew to my mouth to stifle the scream.

“Bastard cost me five of my best men,” Valsi sneered. “I don’t think having your arms free is going to make much of a difference when he comes back around.”

The guards backed out of the room, and, despite his brave words, Valsi hurried after them.

With a click, the door locked.

I clawed at the last restraint holding my ankle down, unable to take my eyes off Mack.

I couldn’t see him breathing.

There was so much blood.

When the knife finally cut through the strap, I tumbled off the bed with a sob.

“Mack, wake up, please, babe.” I crawled to him, legs too shaky to support me, and pulled his head into my lap.

He didn’t respond. This wasn’t like his nightmares, when he tossed and turned, fighting the ghosts of his past.

He was so still.

I cut the hem of my gown, tried to mop the blood from his face and shoulders. Plenty of new cuts decorated his back, but I had the sense more blood had been spilled than his alone.

Good.

I held him, rocking, trying to come up with a plan, when he coughed.

“Mack, thank the Dark….”

His golden eyes blazed, but with no recognition, no understanding.

I reached out to smooth his cheek, and he scrambled back, face twisted into a snarl.

Mack, my Mack, was gone.