“Come on in!” Iago said cheerfully.

Pirra entered the cabin, dipping her crest as she crossed the threshold. An ancient tradition, but always polite!

“Aunt Pirra!” Elliot called, crashing into her.

“Elliot, you’re getting taller every time I see you!” she whistled cheerfully, picking him up. “You’ll be taller than me before long!”

“Maybe when I’m . . . TWENTY-FIVE,” the boy said with a laugh.

She flicked her crest up and down quite blatantly. “Though I measure to my top feather,” she noted.

“No fair,” Elliot said. “You can make yourself taller that way.”

Laughing, she put him down and he dashed to Alexander.

“Hey bud!” he said. “Wait, serious greeting.” He extended his hand, and both began to act with mock gravity.

“Good to see you again sir,” Elliot said in his mock esteemed gentleman impression.

“Mm, yes, quite so,” Alexander agreed, sniffing and miming holding a pipe.

Pirra looked up and saw Iago grinning brightly and it gladdened her.

Since the invitation, she’d been feeling nervous about this whole event.

But after all Iago had lost, how difficult a time he’d been having, she could only feel glad to see him so happy.

“Pirra,” Cassandra said quietly. “Would you help me bring out the food?”

“Of course,” she replied, pleased to let the three men talk and laugh. They were going to get progressively more absurd, anyway, and already Elliot was asking Alexander about hypothetical human-cabbage hybrids to conquer the universe with.

“I’d recommend mixing with bok choy,” Alexander answered seriously.

Snorting, Pirra went into the kitchen.

The cabin was a bit smaller than it should be for three, Pirra thought. They had probably already looked into getting larger accommodations, but now the place felt slightly crowded.

The living room had become a dining room, a large table taking up much of the available space. They’d had a nice and large table printed for the occasion – it was a bit of a waste to keep such a thing around all the time, and after they were done they could just have it recycled again.

In the kitchen, Pirra saw six plates, wondering who the extra was for, but did not comment.

“Here, if you would,” Cass asked, handing her two plates. One was clearly for her; it was a kind of fishy casserole – her antenna rose, taking in the scent. It smelled very good, and she appreciated that it was something that could be eaten in smaller amounts. It was unusual for Dessei to not just swallow food whole, but they could eat smaller portions, and doing it that way was more comfortable for everyone in a mixed group.

Her people had a lot of hangups about eating, she mused.

Taking the plates out, she saw in her HUD that Iago had assigned them seats, and he’d put her next to Cassandra.

For a moment she was annoyed, but it was hard to hold onto – she did actually appreciate that she’d get a chance to know the woman more.

Cassandra appeared a moment later with more plates.

“Do you cook much?” she asked pleasantly.

“Not when I can help it,” Pirra admitted. “I can, though, but often Alexander cooks or we just get something from the canteen.”

“Oh, I love to cook,” Cassandra said. “But Iago actually made most of this, he wanted to make sure you had something you liked, so I hope you will. I don’t know much about Dessei food, I’m sorry to say.”

“It smells very nice,” Pirra replied, moving to sit in her chair.

Cassandra disappeared to bring in more plates and the boys wandered in, still talking, though now about drone racing.

“The Red Crest’s are streaking, but I tell you – Grand Pass will still win the season. They’re underrated!” Iago said.

“You always think Grand Pass will win, and every year you get so upset when they barely come in third,” Alexander replied.

“Just trust me – this year is their year.”

“Really, drone racing?” Cassandra said, taking her seat gently. “Isn’t that very wasteful?”

“It’s exciting, mom!” Elliot chimed in, hopping into his seat.

“But they crash so many drones. Just think about what those could be doing . . .”

“Eh, better than if it was human pilots in them,” Iago said with a shrug.

“I can’t imagine how shocking it would be to be one of the remote pilots and crash,” Cassandra continued thoughtfully. “Probably terrifying.”

“You get used to it,” Pirra said.

“You’re a drone jockey?” Cass asked, surprised.

“Did it for a season or two when I was young – minor league on Enope only, I’m not that good! But yes – the first few times you crash at high speeds it seems so real it can give you the shakes. Some people just quit after their first.”

“But you didn’t,” Alexander said, his eyes twinkling.

“Of course not! But eventually I found something even stupider, Response work,” she replied with a laugh.

Iago laughed as well, firing off finger guns at her.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Ahh . . . it was great,” he admitted. “I mean, not all of it, of course . . . but sometimes those crazy dangerous moments, you look back on them and it’s a cherished memory. I’m going to miss it.”

Pirra had begun to poke at her food, considering where to start, when he said that, and she looked up sharply, her crest moving.

Iago looked away, and an awkward silence fell.

“Well,” Cass said smoothly. “If you don’t mind, Pirra and Alexander, could we give thanks? I was hoping to wait for-“

A chime came to the door.

“Is someone else joining us?” Alexander asked, concern on his face. He glanced at her, and she knew he was concerned not about another guest but that some kind of emergency would call her away.

But she had no warnings popping up.

“Yes,” Iago said as Cassandra went to the door. “I meant to message you about it but I forgot, sorry. We weren’t even sure if he’d be available, but we invited Father Sair to join us.”

Pirra wasn’t even sure who that was. She took a moment, puzzling if the translation of ‘father’ was accurate. If it was, who was he father of . . . ?

“Alexander, Pirra, I’d like to introduce you to Father Sair,” Cassandra said. She seemed to be bursting with excitement and nervousness as she gestured to the man.

He was a tall young human male, light skin and hair, his eyes green. He appeared younger than any present, which made the ‘Father’ appellation even more confusing to her.

His outfit was odd, too; almost everyone on a ship wore something that provided at least some protection against being vented, but this man just had crude brown robes on.

“Hello,” she said politely.

“Oh, hi,” Alexander said, sounding odd. He stood and offered the man a hand. He shook it, his face serene.

“I hope my presence is not an issue,” he said, a gentle smile on his face.

“No, I’m fine with it,” Alexander said, almost too quickly.

“I don’t mind,” Pirra said. She really didn’t, but she did know she was missing something and hoped it would be set straight soon.

“Please, Father, sit here,” Cass said, gesturing him to a seat.

“Oh, thank you,” he said, taking the chair. A lopsided smile crossed his face. “This looks far better than what I typically eat,” he admitted. “I never ate out much, as you might guess.”

Iago seemed amused, but Pirra did not get the joke.

“Father Sair is the one who Saved me,” Cassandra said, sitting down and just beaming at the man.

“Saved?” Pirra asked. “Are you in something like Response?”

Iago cleared his throat. “Oh, Pirra, Father Cathal Sair is a clergyman for the Esoteric Order, our faith.”

“Oh!” Pirra said. “So Father is a title . . . ?”

“Yes,” Cass said. “I’m so sorry, it didn’t occur to me to tell you . . .”

“It’s fine,” Pirra said, unbothered. She looked at the Father. “Is this a faith from ancient Earth?” she asked. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about . . .” she trailed off as she realized she only had heard that the church was called the ‘Esoteric Order’, but not the name of the religion itself.

“Infinitism,” Sair offered. “And it’s understandable – we are widespread but diffuse, especially in Sapient Union space. Though most of our congregations are more than two,” he said genially, looking to Iago and Cassandra.

“Three,” Cassandra said softly.

“Two,” Elliot said.

It went quiet again. Cassandra looked to her son, but she did not look angry, only slightly hurt. Iago, however, looked angry.

“To finish answering you, however – yes and no,” Father Sair said. “Our faith existed on ancient Earth though it was not known well. But likewise we existed on other worlds . . . even Enope,” he said, smiling a little.

“It couldn’t be on Enope prior to contact,” Pirra said confused.

“Perhaps some would say that yours – and others – were only similar,” Sair continued. “But in our eyes we see a continuation between species. It’s very powerful to believe, isn’t it? Perhaps as close as we could ever come to true evidence. Though I am pleased to still accept the Infinite on Faith regardless.”

“Oh, all right,” Pirra said, unsure what to say. Iago was looking at her, and she couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or just looking serious. Hopefully she hadn’t been rude accidentally.

“I’ve been told that you’re somewhat spiritual yourself,” Sair continued to her. “An ancient Dessei belief in wind spirits.”

“Er . . .” Pirra’s crest flipped in sudden embarrassment. “I wouldn’t really say that. It’s an old faith, yes, but . . . to me it’s just a part of my ancient culture. I can’t say I believe in anything supernatural or . . . on just faith. I prefer to place my faith in my team and others around me.”

She wondered if her words were too standoffish, but Sair seemed to take them quite seriously. “I can understand that. Not everyone in the Dark is lost, after all.”

Pirra jabbed a fork into a larger piece of the fish casserole and then swallowed it. She didn’t fully tilt her head back, but she heard Cass’s startled intake of breath as she did it.

Which, frankly, Pirra knew would happen, she’d done it for that purpose. It was a power move in a way, and she felt a little annoyed at herself for doing it, but she was feeling somewhat put on the spot.

Sair, however, did not seem bothered. Alexander was watching her, though, and she decided to try and calm herself before she got truly annoyed.

“I’m sorry to interrupt the conversation, and I know we’ve begun eating already,” Cassandra said, “but could you please say Grace for us? Alexander, Pirra, I hope you don’t mind?”

“No,” Alexander said.

“Of course not,” Pirra replied, though she had no idea what Grace was.

“Aww, mom . . .” Elliot said, but then nodded and put his elbows on the table, holding his hands straight upward.

It seemed some sort of religious pose, and Iago, Cassandra and Sair all did the same.

“Let us give thanks to the Infinite,” Sair began. “For it is the Infinite that has brought us together today so that we may live before we die.

Its subtle reach guiding our paths so that we may find each other in a dark and hostile universe.

Though the darkness ever encroaches, when we understand our place in Infinity, we possess an inner light that is undying even beyond its extinguishment.

Amen.”

He lowered his head, eyes closed, looking down at the table – which Iago and Cassandra mirrored, though Elliot looked at her while tilting his head down. He looked annoyed and slightly bored.

Pirra found herself feeling uncomfortable – not with their actions, but the words themselves.

How horribly fatalistic it all sounded . . .

“Amen,” Iago and Cassandra said at once. Then they lifted their heads, smiling.

“Thank you so much, Father,” Cassandra said emphatically.

“You do not need to thank me,” he replied pleasantly. “I am pleased to do it – though you know that all of our words are equally lost within Infinity.”

“That sounds a little . . . grim,” Pirra said without thinking. “The thoughts being lost, I mean . . . sorry, not trying to be rude. I’m just not sure if I’m missing out on some understanding again.”

“You have it quite right,” Father Sair said. “But surely you’d agree that the vastness of space dwarfs us all, yes?”

“Of course,” Pirra replied.

“Anything we do is insignificant in the scheme of the universe,” Father Said continued, his words serious. “I am no more important – nor less important – than anyone else who exists.”

“So it’s sort of about equality?” Pirra asked.

“To some extent, though I would say the most important part is accepting our own insignificance.”

Pirra didn’t feel she had an over-inflated sense of her importance in the universe, but she also felt odd about intentionally viewing herself as insifignant.

“We are all tiny motes of light,” Cassandra now said. “And one day we shall dim. But we shall always exist.”

“I see,” Pirra said. “I just feel like it could kind of . . . cause people to put their genuine needs aside in a way that is exploitative.”

“Pirra . . . perhaps let’s not talk about this now?” Alexander said carefully.

Father Sair put up a hand to calm Alexander. “We can change the topic if you wish, but she’s not causing any insult. I quite understand her questions.” He looked back to her. “You’re quite right, Mrs. Pirra. But we believe that even motes of insignificance deserve lives of meaning and plenty. Equally – we have no grand leader of our faith who sits on a golden throne . . .”

“Wearing a giant hat?” Pirra asked, hoping the joke would hit properly.

Sair seemed to get it, his eyes sparkling and a slight smile returning to his face. “I don’t think we have any hats associated with our faith, now that I think about it. Perhaps I could ask about getting one, though. A beanie could be quite striking.”

“Father!” Cassandra said in faux shock. “You’re being ridiculous again!”

He smiled more openly. “Oh dear, I forgot for a moment how serious I should be.”

They both laughed, and Pirra decided that while she could not say she found his faith very . . . compelling . . . the man himself seemed all right.

“Let’s drink to friends,” Iago said, holding up his glass.

Alexander grinned and raised his. “Sounds like a great idea to me!”

Pirra did as well, feeling a little more at ease, along with Cass and Father Sair.

“Saúde!”