{Earth}

“It’s time to wake up, Conscience.”

Andrew groaned. “Ugh, you know I hate when you call me that.”

The Icarus in bed beside him chuckled. “There’s no way to make it sound appetizing, is there?” He pecked a kiss on Andrew’s mid-length brown hair. The gray sheets whispered when he climbed out of bed.

“Stay,” they said.

And when Andrew opened his heavy eyelids, he had to agree. He’d never tire of that man sleeping in the nude. “Can’t we take the day off? Just this once?”

Lucas stretched, and the Progeny almost fainted. His golden-eyed partner glanced over his shoulder to catch Andrew watching—of course, he was watching.

The rosewood wainscoting complimented the man’s tastes. Elegance. The plush oriental beneath his feet almost left him tall enough to touch the cabin ceiling, despite him being the shortest Icarus they’d met so far.

Running a hand through his short sandy-blond hair, Lucas threatened, “If you don’t get up, I’ll get dressed rather than join you for your morning shower.”

That did it. After a shower and their morning exercise, they prepared to face the day. Only two hours late, too. A record for them. Andrew rinsed their plates in the black sink surrounded by Carrara marble countertops and took a moment to evaluate the current state of his life. Uniting the Two Worlds. Day and night improving a race’s chance to survive. Spending every waking second with—

“Let me help with that.” Lucas hugged Andrew from behind and dried the dishes with a towel. Calm. Patient. Always. He asked quietly against the Progeny’s ear, “What’s on your mind, philosopher?” The man’s soothing tenor tortured Andrew in the lower registers.

He actually wanted to talk about his thoughts. “I’m happy.”

Lucas squeezed tightly. “Is that not a good thing?”

“It is, but… I think I’ve been living with survivor’s remorse for a while now.”

The Icarus purred—a truly comforting talent—against his back in response.

“I know. I know. I’m lucky. We’re here now, but even Rayne isn’t here. Is it okay to be the happiest I’ve ever been after everything and everyone we lost?” Andrew closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Finally. He told someone.

Lucas stepped back and turned the Progeny around to face him. “I’ve survived many wars and witnessed substantial loss over my life. I’m sorry that it never gets easier. Not truly. But those people we lost wouldn’t want you to feel this way. They’d be proud of you, Andrew. As am I.”

Andrew buried his face in Lucas’ chest and breathed. In. Out. Spicy goodness. “Thank you.”

Someone rapped on the metal door.

“That’ll be Boklo. We’re much, much later than usual.”

Andrew nodded and took one last breath. He gripped the pendant on his chain for good luck. “Let’s get to work.”

Lucas opened the door, “Good afternoon, Boklo. Apologies for our tardiness. We—”

The Icarus shook his head full of dark braids. “Save it. I came to deliver a message to Conscience.”

The Progeny grumbled at the name.

The man’s voice spoke in depths similar to Tumu’s, “Story Taker needs you to relieve Colton and Six of watch duty late this evening. Something about a special screen.”

Lucas frowned. Correction. Pouted. How cute.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Andrew kissed the man’s cheek. “Don’t worry. When Sagan gets back, I’ll make her pull a triple shift.” The regular rotations to watch Rayne strained the two male Progeny while Tameka and Sagan remained off-world. Para, Bones, and Colton volunteered to lighten the load.

He followed Lucas out of the zeppelin. Yes, a zeppelin. The Icarus acquired it during World War II and hid it away in a European bunker. He kitted it out with more luxury than toys, but Xelan would still approve.

They anchored it in the outback of Western Australia. Boklo assured them the environment best matched Celindria’s Vittle plantation on Cinder. As her main agriculturist, they took his word for it and planted crops when the war ended.

Two years later, Andrew stared out at the vast rows of Vittle vines. He grinned. They’d be proud, all right. He sure was.

Lucas blew him a kiss. “I’ll see you after my meeting with Lynn.” That gorgeous man flew off in a navy Gucci suit on majestic black wings. Damn.

Andrew threw on some hiking boots to go with his dirt-stained cargo shorts. Grabbing a berry-picking rake, he set to a hard day’s work. This wasn’t enough to support the Icarean population. But it allowed Doc Pablo to create supplements until The Brethren worked with humanity to expand the farm. Tempest and Dolor looked pleased with the progress at their last visit. And given they represented two votes each for The Brethren, the future looked bright.

About three hours into picking, a warm and all too infrequent sight caught Andrew’s gaze. “Sagan!”

The blond girl stopped knocking on the zeppelin—something they were all glad she learned to do after the Pablo and Lynn incident. She Seamswalked over. “Hey! Still living up to your old nickname, eh?”

He snickered at the “Golden God” reference. “You don’t do social calls anymore. What’re you doing here?”

Sagan looked caught. “Sorry. I mean to visit… I lose time s’all.”

He staved her with a hand. “I know. It’s okay. We’re all adjusting still.” Her intentions were muddled. She wanted something, but she also wanted to talk about something. “Out with it, girl.”

“Do you think any of Lucas’ clothes would fit Korac?”

Andrew roared with laughter. Slapped his thigh, held his stomach, and everything.

“Oh, c’mon! The prison clothes don’t fit him. Or suit him. And if anyone would get that, it’d be the golden-eyed hottie.”

Absurd. Absolutely absurd. He cleared his throat a bit and wiped the tears from his eyes. “Unless Korac shrank almost two entire feet in height and grew one foot in the crotch, they won’t fit.”

She pouted.

Damn.

“Okay. Okay. Let’s see what he’s got.” He shoved a finger in her face. “But you’re staying for dinner, and you’ll ask Lucas, himself. He’ll have a better idea of what’s in that extravagant closet of his.”

Her violet eyes went wide. “I heard a quarter of the airship is just closet space. Is it true?”

Andrew nodded gravely. “It is.”

Sagan helped cook. In the past, this led to several infamous memories. When they learned to make funnel cakes, she managed to explode the baking powder into the ceiling fan of Rayne’s weird-ass kitchen. When Andrew first taught her how to make spicy fried chicken, she worried the melted Crisco got too hot and dropped a few ice cubes in the pot to cool it off.

But tonight, the blond surprised him. She assisted him with the precision and rapt attention of a surgical nurse. “This is garlic powder, right? No, this is onion. I found it. Here ya go.”

After thirty minutes, he set the table with a simple chicken and pasta recipe. As if the Icarus installed a special food radar, Lucas suddenly appeared. Andrew rolled his eyes. Boys.

“Smells delicious in here.” He kissed the top of the Seamswalker’s head. “Sagan, you look beautiful. I love the bangs.”

The young woman beamed at him. “Thanks. I love your place.”

They sat down for dinner as Lucas carried on the conversation, “Well, we invited you to the housewarming, but I suppose Lacceirus-Capra is a rather captivating planet. Or so I’ve read.”

The Progeny and a handful of the Shadow read Nox’s Verse. What Rayne let them have of it, anyway. Some pages were missing and passages marked out. And when she gave it to Karter for Jack to use during Story Circle, she asked the Valkyrie not to let him see it or know who wrote it. Andrew worried that might bite her in the ass one day.

In the meantime, Sagan explored every planet Nox mentioned to find leads on Imminent. Specifically, on Razor. One of the more elusive figures in the organization.

“…And so you want to raid my wardrobe?” Lucas peered at Sagan with his eyebrows raised. Bewildered.

Andrew looked between them, fighting the urge to giggle at the situation.

“I’m sorry. It didn’t sound so ridiculous when I thought of it. Please, forget I said anything—”

Lucas set his fork down and sat back in his seat with his hands folded on his lap. “I will find and tailor clothes for your… suitor. But on one condition.”

She perked straight up in her chair, eager. “Name it.”

“You create a regular visitation schedule with the Shadow. One member. Once a week. You are detaching and with your current assignment, I’m concerned for your safety.”

This was very Xelan, and Andrew approved.

Sagan lowered her eyes and nodded. “I can do that.” She let out a shaky exhale. “Yea. I know. I need to pitch in and help where I can now that I’m better with the Seamswalking.” The next smile beamed. “I got this.”

“Good. And I must say, there’s something appealing to dressing up the former General like a doll.”

Andrew drowned in his drink and spit it back in the glass. When he finally drew air, he choked on his own laughter.

Sagan patted the Progeny on the back while asking, “What measurements do you need?”

Andrew swung a knowing glance at Lucas.

“Oh, I don’t need any. I’ll see to everything.”