“I thought you were in some kind of hurry,” Shae says.

“This is more important right now.”

“Coffee is more important?” she asks dubiously, raising an eyebrow.

I give her a look. This must be her idea of humor.

“You know what I mean,” I say, thanking the merchant and shoving the package of coffee into my bag.

We’ve left C-CIL back at the docking bay for now. He doesn’t need to be part of this conversation, and it’s better for all of us if he keeps a low profile. It took some persuading, but I’ve managed to convince Shae that he’ll be safer inside Remus than just about anywhere else on the station. She wasn’t sure she believed me until I let her take a look for herself and verify the ship’s safety systems. I can’t say I blame her for being cautious, but I’m glad that she finally relented.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Shae replies as we make our way through the crowd that hovers around the food stalls in the main arcade. “What was that back there?”

“It’s hard to explain,” I say hesitantly. It’s not that I don’t want to explain, I’m just not sure how. I stop and think for a minute.

“How much do you know about—” I start. I’m trying to choose my words carefully, but it’s hard when I don’t exactly what I want to say.

Shae looks at me expectantly.

“About what?” she prompts. “And please don’t say about coffee,” she smirks.

I smile and look down for a minute, trying to decide how to broach the topic.

“How much do you know about Seraphis?” I ask at last.

“The planet?” Shae asks in surprise.

I nod. I can tell it’s not what she was expecting, but she only has to consider it for a moment before answering.

“A lot,” she says. “Probably more than you do, to be honest.”

I nod and resume walking. I’m sure she’s right. Especially with my memories being as jumbled as they as they, she probably knows considerably more than I do. Her work in cybernetics and history with the Institute alone would demand a great deal of knowledge on the matter, not to mention any personal interest she might have in it.

Shae walks alongside me in silence. The crowd hasn’t thinned at all since I arrived. If anything, there’s more people here now than there was an hour or two ago.

“Does this have something to do with what’s written in that book?” Shae asks, turning to me and casually taking my arm.

I furrow my brow, unsure of how to answer.

“Maybe,” I say. The truth is, I don’t know. They’re probably related somehow, but I’m still trying to piece things together myself. The thoughts that swirl through my mind are louder than the throng of people pressed against us as we walk through the arcade, making it difficult to concentrate. I know that there are things that I want to say to Shae, things that I feel I have to explain, but the sight of C-CIL has thrown me for a loop, and I’m finding it more difficult than ever to put my thoughts into words.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“You really don’t know what’s in there?” Shae prods. “You don’t know what those notes are for?” She’s insistent but her manner is gentle.

I shake my head, and Shae stops walking, holding fast to my arm to keep me from continuing ahead.

“Do you want to know?” she asks. I look into her eyes. There’s strength there, and understanding. Fortitude and patience. I know I’m being vague and weird and difficult, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She should be annoyed, frustrated, but she’s not. She wants to help.

I swallow and think about her question. I’m not sure I’m ready to know. What if it’s something terrible? What if it changes things for the worse? What if I regret finding out? Once I know, I won’t be able to take it back.

I look into Shae’s eyes, drawing what strength from them I can, and nod.

“It’s a set of instructions,” she says, keeping her eyes locked on mine. “Forced neural pathway programming. Rewiring the brain, so to speak.”

I try to process what she’s saying, what it means, but I’m unsure of the implications.

Shae waits for a moment, looking at me seriously.

“Those aren’t things you’re supposed to just know,” she says slowly, carefully. “They’re things you’re supposed to learn. Things that shouldn’t be forced.”

I let the words sink in. What could it be that’s so important? I wonder. What could I need to tell myself—to force myself to learn? Even for someone like me, it’s not what you’d call common practice. In fact, I’m not even familiar with concept in any kind of a practical sense.

Shae resumes walking, her arm firmly entwined around mine.

“Of course you need to understand that it raises some ethical questions,” she says, “but I think that’s something we can navigate together when the time comes.”

What time? I wonder. But my thoughts are interrupted suddenly by something that catches my eye. A small group of Garda have gathered outside one of the shops. They lean against the door, some laughing amongst themselves while others glower at passersby, rifles slung across their backs and dewguns among other weapons strapped to their hips. I stop dead in my tracks, transfixed, and Shae stops with me. My heartbeat starts to quicken. One of the Garda notices me staring and stares back at me menacingly.

Shae looks up with me, her brow creased in concern.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

The Garda begins to straighten, placing a hand on the weapon at his hip as he watches me.

“We need to go,” I say, my gaze still fixed on the Garda. He takes a step forward, his eyes following me. “Now.”

I navigate swiftly through the crowd, pushing my way through the densely packed walkway of the arcade, but I don’t dare run. Nothing to draw attention to myself, nothing to give the Garda a reason to look at me twice. Shae trails behind me.

“Hey!” she calls after me. I know I’m moving too fast for her, but I can’t slow down. I reach behind me, feeling her fingertips brush mine, and grab her hand. I cling tightly to her, dragging her along behind me through the thick of the crowd. I can’t lose her, but I can’t afford to lose any time, either.

We make it to the dock, breathless but none the worse for wear. Luckily, we’ve already taken the liberty of loading the fuel, which will save us a few precious minutes. I know my engines are probably all but cooked, but we don’t have time to waste on diagnostics or repairs. After all, Remus may be a small ship, but it’s fierce, and it can take a hell of a beating.

“Get in!” I call out to Shae, probably unnecessarily, as I climb into the cockpit.

I can see her relief at finding C-CIL still safely inside, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed that he hadn’t spontaneously vanished in our absence. I guess that’s something I’ll have to deal with later. For now, I’ve got to focus on getting us out of here and catching up to Chrysanthemum as quickly as possible. The sight of the Garda was enough to trigger something inside of me—a memory, a premonition, call it what you will. All I know is that I need to—we need to get to that ship. And we need to get there before they do.