“This was a mistake. I don’t belong here.”

The crew of Peacemaker had assigned temporary quarters to the Mako refugees. Given the ancient ship’s size, there was plenty of room available. Just as before, Rúna made certain they assigned her the same berth as Genvass. Sitting across from him as they shared a private meal, she shrugged at his statement.

“I’m not sure what else you think you could have done,” she said. “They made their minds up before we ever set foot onboard.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he answered, shaking his head. “I have accomplished exactly nothing on this mission. Hell, Terra’s diplomatic position is even worse than when we started. Hardly a ringing endorsement of my negotiation skills.”

“That is not your fault,” the Valkyrie said vehemently.

“Isn’t it?” Rising from his seat, he began pacing in the small compartment. “I knew what I was getting myself into when I accepted this assignment. I knew it was going to be an uphill battle, convincing the other races to trust us.” He sighed, coming to a halt. “But I was certain I could reach them, to show them we weren’t a threat. And now?” He rubbed at his eyes, suddenly bone-weary. “Now they hate us even worse than they do the Troika. Which is exactly what we’ll become if our hosts have their way.”

“Our ‘hosts’ as you call them, are the ones who sabotaged you,” Rúna fired back. “Them stealing Peacemaker and going on a killing spree doomed your mission, not anything you did. They pulled the rug out from underneath you and killed any chance of a diplomatic solution.”

Her words fell on deaf ears. “Don’t you understand? I’m useless,” he told her. “When the Troika attacked, you were absolutely right to drag me into our quarters and strap me to a couch like an incompetent child. I wouldn’t have reacted quickly enough on my own. The only real training I have is as a linguist, for Terra’s sake. And who needs a linguist when everyone uses voders?” he demanded, throwing up his hands. “I couldn’t help you defend the ship, and when I tried assisting Diggs, the only thing I could manage was hauling his gear around,” he said, his words filled with self-loathing, before abruptly collapsing back into his chair. “I am literally good for nothing.”

“I don’t believe that. I refuse to believe that.” Her eyes narrowed as she took full stock of him. “Perhaps once, that might have been true. I certainly didn’t think much of you when we met on Gyrfalcon. But now?” She shook her head. “You’ve changed since then, been on the receiving end of more than a few rude awakenings. So what if you can’t hold a gun, or turn a wrench? That’s not why you’re here.”

“Then why am I here?” he demanded. “Seriously, I’d really like to know.” He snorted in disgust.

Rúna stared at the glass in her hands, her expression suddenly distant. “Do you know why I signed on for this mission?” she asked softly.

Something about her tone made him look up. “No… not really,” he said after a moment. “I remember how upset you were when you barged into my office.”

That earned him a brief smile. “I was,” she chuckled. “Between the promotion and… well, never mind. It’s not important.” She sighed before meeting his gaze. “People always ask me what Sonoitii Prime was like. I don’t like talking about it, for a lot of reasons.”

Genvass nodded, though he said nothing in reply. Truth be told, he was afraid to say anything, for fear of breaking whatever fragile spell she’d woven around herself to even hint about what happened on that world. Instead, he simply waited, giving her the space she needed.

She took a deep breath, and then let it out as she struggled to get through this. “Nothing could have prepared me for that fight, and it indelibly burned every single moment of that nightmare into my brain. I’ll never be able to forget it, no matter how badly I want to.” Rúna stared into his eyes, forcing him to gaze back into hers. It was an unsettling vision, but he refused to look away. Her hand clenched her sword tightly, her knuckles showing bone white under the strain, as she fought to keep control.

“The thing I remember most,” she finally got out, “is when it was finally over. I walked off the line after they relieved me, and all I could see was what it cost.” She shuddered, reliving it once more. “It was like I was in a daze, like none of it was real. My mind just couldn’t take any more, I guess. I don’t know. I’m not a Knight.” She shrugged yet again. “I remember drifting past one of the gun positions, sandbagged in the trench. There must have been thirty, forty bodies piled up in front of it. The gunner didn’t stop firing until the barrel burst, and even then he went down hard. He died with a Zaitai dagger shoved into his belly… but his cold, dead hands were locked around that bastard’s throat.”

He could only sit there, horrified at the picture she’d just painted so vividly. He could practically see it with his own eyes.

Rúna nodded as she saw her words strike home. “Imagine that times a thousand. That’s how desperate it was. How hard we fought.” She closed her eyes, wincing at the memory. “We lost so many. Hundreds, maybe. Thousands. And not just Terrans; Ixians, Legionnaires, even Zaitai and EA, before they turned traitor on us.” Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and whispered, “... so many.”

Genvass found his voice at last. “Rúna, if you need to talk, I’m happy to listen. But… I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”

She took a moment to compose herself before finally looking up. “Because I’ve seen firsthand the cost of war,” she said, “and I will do practically anything to keep it from happening again.”

He slowly nodded as her words struck home. “That may be the best reason I’ve ever heard,” he said at last.

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She looked away, as if his words had failed to find purchase. “You said you believed peace was possible,” Rúna reminded him. “I’m not sure I do. I’ve been fighting most of my life.” She looked back at him. “But I’d like to. A galaxy at peace sounds pretty damn amazing.” She graced him with a ghost of a smile. “Terra knows it wouldn’t be the first Lost Cause I signed on for.”

Genvass smiled in return. “I would never have pegged you as an idealist.”

“I’m not,” she answered. “I’m just tired of the killing.”

He started to respond, only to have his attention pulled away as the hatch slid open, revealing Samara standing in the doorway. “I hope I’m not interrupting?” she told the pair.

Rúna shot daggers at her, while Genvass merely sighed. “Would it matter if you were?” he asked.

“Not really,’ she conceded. “We need to talk, you and I.” She glanced over at the Valkyrie. “In private.”

“Over my dead body,” she snarled.

“I’d be careful making those sorts of ultimatums,” Samara said evenly, “especially here.”

She jumped to her feet, her hand already reaching for her sword as Genvass grabbed her arm. “It’s all right,” he said, “I’ll talk to her.” Rúna started to protest, only for him to hold up a hand. “You should probably check in with the others anyway,” he suggested. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Her eyes traveled between the two before finally giving him a brusque nod. “I’ll be right outside,” she declared, giving Samara a death glare before exiting the compartment.

“I don’t think she likes me very much,” she said affably, taking a seat.

“Can you blame her?”

Samara smiled, shaking her head. “No, I don’t,” she answered. “I’ve burned a lot of bridges in my life. It’s no surprise that she’s one of them.”

“What do you want to talk about, Samara?” he asked. “I thought we’d covered everything.”

“Not everything,” the Protean disagreed. “I’m sorry that things got a little heated the last time we chatted, but I stand by my position. You, of all people, should understand why.”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I agree with it,” Genvass said point-blank. “If you stopped by simply to rehash our conversation, I really don’t see the point.”

“No, that’s not why I’m here,” Samara explained. “Like I said, I still have my reasons for taking the fight to our enemies. Good reasons, in my opinion.” Her expression was unapologetic. “But when I replayed our chat in my head… or more accurately, when Guardian did… I realized there was something you’d meant to say, but didn’t. What was it?”

Something about the way she’d asked caught his attention. “I wanted to know where you got the idea to steal Peacemaker,” he said cautiously.

Samara nodded. “And why do you want to know that?” she pressed.

Genvass scrutinized her, looking for a sign, but she was as guarded as ever. “Because when I began to examine this mission in earnest, I became convinced there was more going on than met the eye.”

She took a moment to consider that statement. “You may be right,” she said finally.

Her admission caught him by surprise. “Care to elaborate?” he prodded her.

“Someone stopped by my office around the time you found that medical facility,” she said somewhat cryptically. “Their visit was a surprise, given we’d had few interactions in the past. We exchanged polite pleasantries, discussed various topics of mutual interest, marveled at the discoveries teams like yours were unearthing regularly.” Samara shrugged as she relayed the conversation. “I assumed they wanted my insight, or rather, Guardian’s. Not the first time someone had consulted me for that sort of thing.”

“Where are you going with this?” he inquired, giving her a curious look.

An enigmatic smile appeared as she regarded him. “As they were getting ready to leave, they made an offhand remark. It didn’t really register at the time, but later that evening, Guardian reminded me of what they’d said. It got me thinking.”

“And what was the remark?” Genvass prompted her.

“They just mentioned how odd it was we hadn’t stumbled across any ships,” she relayed to him. “You’d think there would have been at least a few lying around, but we hadn’t found a single vessel anywhere, not even a shuttle. And it was odd, I realized. What’s more, Guardian concurred. We kicked the idea around a bit, him and I, and eventually decided on two possibilities. Either we’d spotted no ships because there weren’t any to find, or else they’d been well camouflaged.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Samara chuckled. “Pretty much covers all the bases right there. Of course, the question we asked ourselves next was, assuming there were camouflaged ships in the system, how would we go about finding them? It’s a big system, and these are the Precursors we’re talking about. If they didn’t want something to be found, it’s safe to assume we lowly Terrans wouldn’t find it.” She gazed at him evenly. “What we needed was an informant.”

Genvass already knew where this was going. “Athena,” he said quietly.

“Athena, indeed,” Samara nodded. “Of course, it was still possible we’d wind up empty-handed, that there were no ships, but at least we’d know, one way or the other. Once we decided to consult Athena, we realized we were going to need a ride to visit her in her domain. Not to mention a partner, in case we were successful.”

“At which point you recruited our mutual friend, Captain Hadad, I presume?” Genvass deduced. “Given your intentions, I imagine he took little convincing.”

“You imagine correctly,” she agreed. “I was certain I could enlist him to the cause, given our past. He’s no more a fan of the Troika than I am.”

“And with him on board, you could consult with Athena, who led you directly to Peacemaker.” Genvass shook his head. “All tied up in a nice neat bow… with one exception.” He regarded her warily. “You’ve deliberately avoided naming the individual who first sparked your curiosity. I assume there’s a reason for that.” He folded his hands, awaiting her response.

“There is,” she nodded. “At first I chalked it up to mere coincidence, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized their contacting me was a deliberate act. What I didn’t understand was why.” Samara leaned back n her chair. “I’ve been in the business a long time, Genvass, and I know all the players. This individual, however, had never appeared on my radar, and even more perplexing, I couldn’t see a motive. Most individuals who involve themselves in ‘The Great Game’ have obvious goals; power, control, the usual.” She rested her chin on her hands. “But not this one. They’d shown no interest in that sort of thing, despite having had several opportunities to get their hands dirty. Which tells me one of two things. That either all of this is nothing more than a wild-goose chase, spurred by coincidence, or…”

She paused, awaiting his reaction, until finally, he bowed to the inevitable. “Or what?” he asked her.

“Or,” she continued, “that they are very, very good.”

With a sinking feeling, he let out the breath he’d been holding. He already knew what she was about to say, and why she’d taken this circuitous path before revealing the truth.

But he still needed to hear her say it.

“The name, Samara,” he insisted.

“The individual’s name,” she disclosed, revealing at last her hole card, “is Dàifu Tsoumlum Khatsakhox, leader of your own Dharmist Clan.” Their eyes met. “I believe you’re acquainted.”

That earned her a sardonic grunt as the blade struck home. “I’m starting to think,” he said at last, “that I don’t know her at all.”