“I don’t think the Captain is listening to my input,” Pirra said, sighing, putting her head down on the table.

“Why would you say that?” Iago asked, sitting down on the edge of her desk.

It had been his desk, she mused, not that long ago.

She’d felt awkward when he’d come in – for a long time she’d only told herself she was keeping it warm for her friend. But now Iago had quit Response entirely. He was only a civilian.

Granted, he still had some clearances; even retired, he was considered on-call for an emergency, and he hadn’t tried to renege on that. But their entire dynamic was different.

But he had come to check on her. That meant a lot to her.

She raised her head. “Cenz put out a report, marking anomalous things . . . and I left some comments, giving my point of view. It’s my job, right?”

“If you’re included, I’d say so, though really it’s Kai’s job to make such meta-level comments,” Iago said reasonably.

“These aren’t Response-related,” Pirra insisted. “They’re related to . . .” She felt a prickle at the base of her crest, the feathers rising somewhat even as she tried to will them down. “The Star Hunter. You have to have heard by now, right? I know the rumors have spread about these pirates and the relic technology.”

Iago was looking down at the desk, not replying for a second. Pirra suddenly had a terrible feeling that she’d just torn open the wounds he’d so recently recovered from.

Iago smiled as he looked up. “So your insight is cultural in origin. I can see the value in that.”

Relief flooded her. It took her a moment to actually get back onto the topic at hand.

“Ah, yeah, but . . . He just marked every single comment as ‘taken under consideration’ with no further questions or comments. I think he just . . . wrote them off.”

Iago reached over to pat her on the shoulder.

“He’s got a lot on his plate,” he said reasonably. “And he trusts you, I’m sure he’ll take your comments under advisement.”

“Really?” Pirra repeated, but with an edge to her voice. “Because it seems a lot like he just ignored them. You know the Captain – he always responds to comments, he doesn’t just give an automatic response that way.”

Iago was silent a moment, his expression turning a little surprised, followed by thoughtful.

She’d never really snapped at him that way before; if anything, their roles had always been reversed in the past, as he’d turned to her to vent his annoyances at the higher-ups, and she’d always taken to be the devil’s advocate. Ultimately, of course, seeing his view and agreeing that sometimes ranking officers and their decisions were bullshit. Always privately, of course.

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“It’s bullshit is what it is,” he finally said.

She let out a short, whistled laugh.

“It’s kind of like old times, isn’t it?” she said, giving a human-style smile.

Iago met her eyes, but said nothing. His own smile was mystifyingly small, just a slight curve at the edge of his lips.

She could see the thought behind his eyes, but she did not know what he was thinking.

Her confusion only grew, but just before she could ask him why, he spoke. “Yeah, in some ways it really is.”

“What were you thinking there?” she asked, letting out another laugh.

Rising from her desk, she moved over to a locked wooden cabinet. It had been his, but he’d made a point of leaving it behind.

Taking out the cylindrical metal key he’d bequeathed, she opened it and took out two decanters, setting them on the desk, followed by two rocks glasses.

“Oh, I see you’ve got the good stuff,” Iago said.

She poured him a drink of whiskey, then poured herself a glass of talef.

“At least for me. This talef is older than I am. Yours . . . I don’t know, was that swill you kept around the good stuff?” She laughed and he laughed.

“Saúde,” he said. It was a word she could only slightly mimic, but she gave it her best, and he laughed again, taking a drink.

“Oh, yeah,” he said a moment later. “This is the good stuff. Why was I stupid enough to leave this behind?”

She trilled. “Happy to share your own drink with you,” she said.

“How’s yours?” he asked, grinning.

“Salty,” she replied.

“Isn’t it supposed to be?”

“Absolutely. Enough salt to make a human retch!”

She sipped her drink again – a proper talef was meant to be sipped through the singer, rather than the proper mouth. It was light on alcohol by human drink standards, and far higher in sodium. It left behind a nice tingle and always reminded her of older days.

He drank more of his, but then she reached out, kicking him lightly in the shin. “You didn’t tell me what you were thinking about a moment ago.”

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, just remembering when we first met.”

“I made that bad an impression, huh?” she asked.

“You made a fine impression,” he said. “And you had the record to be worthy of being my second-in-command. But I didn’t know you, and I wondered how you’d fit in with the team.”

He smiled. “And now you’re running it. I’d say that’s good cause for another drink, hm?”

“Hmm,” she replied, finishing hers. “Unfortunately, I am still on duty . . . And I still have the problem that the Captain doesn’t seem very receptive to what I’m telling him.”

Iago shrugged. “The only advice I can give there is to talk to Kai about it. She has more pull with him. Maybe at least running your thoughts by her will help to smooth over any . . . cultural confusion? You know how old stories sometimes don’t translate perfectly. Your references may be too long-winded for him to go through or . . .”

“Too much like fairy tales,” she replied dryly. “You know, I can really tell when you’re bullshitting, Commander.”

“Hey, you just called me Commander,” he said, grinning and pointing.

“Honorary,” she retorted, moving to put her glass back into the cabinet, where it would be automatically cleaned.

Iago handed over his glass, but his face grew more serious. “Pirra, one thing I have to tell you . . .”

She looked back, saying nothing.

“If it turns out that these pirates do have something like relic technology, then . . . be careful,” he said, with an earnesty that made her feel suddenly uncomfortable.

“I can tell you, from personal experience, that these things are nothing to fuck with.”

He reached up, tapping his head. Then, he turned and walked out, his ghosts trailing behind him.