Two days later, we sat in the common room of the ship, once again. Emery joined us as we discussed our next steps and plans for returning to New Iberia.

Dick sat across from me next to Ryuuk. His body recuperated fast thanks to Dick’s changeling DNA, which was accustomed to breaking and rebuilding itself. This regenerative process, coupled with multiple levels of healing spells and abilities from myself, Light, the Everwylds and the environment itself, made recovery quick but no less exhausting. He looked like he hadn’t slept for a week.

“I’m too spent to try shapeshifting,” Dick reported, answering one of Vomero’s many questions concerning our attempted cure, “but I can feel the Lycan DNA is still part of me. I think I’ll still be able to transform into it when my strength returns.”

“Weren’t the whole point to keep you from turnin’ into that ornery mutt?” Ryuuk asked.

“The point,” I clarified, “was to get rid of the Lycan consciousness trying to supersede Dick’s free will so that he can control the Lycan form.”

“The Wolf god’s consciousness, you mean,” Cash interjected. “There’s going to be some kind of blowback for screwing over a piece of a primordial god’s consciousness, right?”

“My people believe everything seeks a state of equilibrium, everything strives for balance,” Emery said. “Wild deities like Volungus surely value this more than most. Perhaps that is why he gave the first Lycans the ritual to bind his carnal nature. Perhaps he was seeking balance?”

I nodded my agreement. This was also a foundational belief among many Zodians. “Dick’s experience was anything but balanced. Hopefully, Volungus will interpret our actions today as attempting to bring things back to equilibrium.”

“For all our sakes, let’s hope so,” Cash said. “We could really use a win right about now, and if that one piece of the wolf god’s consciousness could make me lose control like that, I don’t want to know what a pissed off version of the actual god could do.”

“That reminds me,” Vomero piped up. He had been quietly contemplating everything we were discussing. “Why were the Everwylds and Ryuuk the only ones unaffected?”

“Ryuuk makes sense,” Cash said. “His experiences with the Avian flu virus and Marshall’s mind control drug probably built an immunity in him against mind control.”

“As for me and my people,” Emery added. “We are already quite connected to our wilder sides. It’s something many of us learn to live in harmony with from a very young age. Instead of suppressing it, like many cultures teach their people to do, the Everwylds believe in embracing it, letting it pass through us, leaving only what we need and can handle. I know I felt Volungus’ wild calling, probably just the same as you all did.” She shrugged. “My training helped me bring those urges into balance.”

As Emery finished her explanation, our group stared silently at her for a long moment. Hearing her explanation of overcoming the most irresistible, mind-controlling beckonings of a maniacal, old-world god as if it was a slight shiver passing through her body on a chilly morning was laughable, at least to my mind. I could see from the looks on my companions’ faces and the ensuing silence that I wasn’t the only one thinking this way.

“So, you’re saying even the most hedonistic urges a literal god could visit upon you aren’t enough to make you lose control?” Vomero asked. “Fascinating...”

“Well,” Dick said, lightheartedly. “I bet you’re a ton of fun at parties, then.”

“Hey!” she defended, as several of us struggled to contain our snickering. “Just because I can control myself, doesn’t mean I have to. I’m not some prude!”

“That’s a relief,” Dick said, clutching his injured chest as he chuckled. “We already have one of those in the group,” he tilted his head to the side at Ryuuk who responded by jabbing him lightly in his ribs. Dick clutch his ribs in pain and sputtered with laughter again. “We definitely don’t need two.”

As the banter among our group continued, it felt good to just sit and laugh together again. It had been a rough few weeks of hard knocks and even harder recoveries. We all needed a moment to relax and decompress.

We’d been running or maneuvering since the moment we landed on Rodan, most of which had gained us very little materially. For an Outlaw, however, material things came easy. The people you met along the way were the real commodity. We had acquired our fair share of allies, despite less than desirable outcomes on our endeavors, so maybe not all our efforts were in vain.

“She’s alright in my book,” Ryuuk was saying, as my attention returned to the conversation. “But you can’t always judge a book by the cover.”

“Especially not the books Ryuuk reads,” Vomero pointed out.

Emery raised an eyebrow. “Really? Sounds spicy. I didn’t peg you for that sort of entertainment.”

“Wha--? No! He’s not talkin’ bout any nudie novels!” Ryuuk sputtered indignantly.

“What the hell is a nudie novel?” Cash interrupted.

“They mean Total Recall,” Ryuuk clarified. “It’s the masterwork of one of the galaxy’s most renowned explorers. Ya’ know, Emy—”

“It’s Emery,” she corrected.

“Pardon. Amy,” he corrected himself, somehow even more incorrectly. “You might find Jack Trader’s work interestin’ on account of all the exotic beasts y’all rescue. I’ll lend it to ya sometime.”

Surprisingly, Ryuuk changed the subject. I noticed that despite his affinity for Trader’s Compendium, he didn’t harp on it the way he had before Gramps died. Maybe it was too painful a reminder; after all, Paul had been his first true friend.

The Avian man leaned back and addressed the rest of us, “All I’m sayin’ is last time we just let someone into the group willy nilly, that person tried to kill us more times than you can shake a stick at and succeeded twice, I might add! So, maybe we need some type of ‘nitiation or sumthin’, ya know?”

Ryuuk’s tone was lighthearted and joking, but I could tell there was real insecurity behind it. Nobody was more sympathetic than Vomero.

“As someone who nearly died from said backstabber, I agree to a vetting process,” Vomero acknowledged. Even though we were casually discussing whether Emery would be “allowed into the group”, the tone remained teasing.

“Well, as the other person who all-the-way died from the aforementioned backstabber, I second the motion.” A cheeky grin undermined Dick’s mockingly formal tone.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“You know what? Fine!” Emery said. “Do your worst. I’ll play along with your little hazing ritual.”

“So what do you suggest?” I asked, looking at my crewmates. “Hand-to-hand combat? That’s kind of how Dick got initiated.”

“She kicked his ass in a cage match,” Cash answered Emery’s quizzical look.

“I was clearly trying not to hurt her,” Dick grumbled. “We could have Skye go around snooping uncomfortably into your past; she did that with most of us.”

“Yeah, but she did that with Matthew, too, and completely overlooked several red flags,” Vomero said, shaking his head. “The results are too inconsistent to be a viable test.”

“I didn't see anyone else trying to find out who was sabotaging us,” I mumbled grumpily.

“So, we’re all in agreement that it needs to be Skye who does the test,” Dick said.

“Reckon it should also be somethin’ we’ve all done at one point or ‘nother.” Ryuuk nodded. “She never whooped my tail before...not that I’d be dumb enough to step foot inside a cage, voluntarily.” He shivered in disgust.

“And of course it needs to be something with proven results at exposing the true nature of a person,” Vomero concluded.

“Given those stipulations,” Cash stated, leaning forward eagerly in his seat, “there’s really only one thing it could be.”

I smiled and shook my head. I’d reached this decision the moment an “initiation” was first suggested. A warm feeling of camaraderie washed over me as my crewmates eventually arrived at the same conclusion. Casually, I stood and flexed my arms as if readying myself for the task ahead. I could see Emery was both curious and trepidatious at whatever we had decided trumped cage fighting and secret sleuthing.

“To the bar, then.”

* * *

Moments later, I stood behind the newly installed bionic bar aboard our ship taking stock of every mixer and alcohol available.

It was a side project Vomero, Cash and I had been slowly acquiring parts for since arriving at Rodan. With AL’s help, we were able to procure most of the functional parts, but while I was convalescing at The Falls, the other two had worked to procure what parts remained and transfer AL’s programming into it.

“I thought the whole purpose of the bionic bar was so AL could mix the drinks,” Emery questioned, warily looking at the plethora of ingredients I was summoning out of the bar.

“Miss Skye has been laboring under my tutelage for some time now, though the results have been...mixed,” AL said, manifesting holographically next to me. He chuckled at his own bartending joke.

“Yeah, well,” Cash said. “That’s not a real test. AL mixes up alchemical masterpieces meant to make you question your very existence with one sip.”

“Sign me up for that,” Emery answered eagerly.

“They’re too kind, but I do appreciate the flattery,” AL said. “I’d be delighted to mix you up a custom cocktail sometime, Miss Emery.”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Dick drawled, wagging a finger at her. “In order to get the reward, you got to run the gauntlet first.”

“The gauntlet?” Emery sounded skeptical now. “I feel like that’s a thing you just made up.”

“We did,” Cash said, leaning an elbow on the bar next to her and taking a laid back stance full of glee. He was clearly going to enjoy watching Emery become the next test subject for my fledgling mixologist skills. He leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. “Til now, we just called it: Skye makes you puke your brains out. But it never really had the right twang to it.”

“That...doesn’t sound...Can we revisit the cage match option?” she asked, turning away from him. I noticed her skin seemed a little flush. Fascinating, I thought, channeling my inner Vomero.

Ryuuk plopped himself down at the bar on her other side. His expression was deadpan and slightly wide-eyed, as if reliving a traumatic experience.

“The first time she made me a drink, I crapped my pants and the ship blew up.”

Laughter erupted from everyone present except Emery, who struggled to interpret Ryuuk’s meaning.

“That’s got to be coincidence, right? I mean, it probably wasn’t so bad the second time around.”

Ryuuk looked at her like she’d gone daft. “Second time? Missy, there ain’t never been no second time.”

“Look at the bright side, Emery,” Dick encouraged. “Right now, you’re on the outside of an inside joke. Once you subject yourself to whatever torture Skye will involuntarily mix up inside that glass, you get to be on the inside of the joke. Just like us.”

“Gee, your characterization of my bartending skills is soo flattering,” I rebuked as I selected ingredients in specific amounts from a menu displayed holographically above the bar. “You know, some of us have to actually work at being good at something. We can’t just transform into whatever species is naturally gifted at whatever they’re trying to do.”

“No, you can’t can you? See that’s why hard work is over-rated. Natural talent wins out every time.”

“That sounds like parenting advice from Deadbeat Dads Digest,” Vomero chided. “Is that the wisdom you’re imparting to Light?”

“Yes!” Dick responded. “I mean look at him, he’s the walking poster child for my work less, do more philosophy. He lays around all day, filches snacks from anywhere and everywhere he can find them, and then just does his glowy thing and saves everybody!”

“Uhhh...I think the inhabitants of Kalo-Mahoi might characterize things differently,” Vomero observed.

“At least Light likes the drinks I make,” I pouted sullenly. “Alright, it’s done!”

I tapped a spot on the holographic bar, and a crystal glass manifested itself on a lit-up hexagon on the surface. As we watched, the bionic bar meticulously measured and mixed the ingredients I’d selected into the glass. Just like the original bar in Alchemy, the glass seemed to fill as if the liquor was pumped into it from the table itself. When it was done, a robotic arm moved the glass onto another lit-up hexagon in front of Emery.

Everyone watched intently as Emery looked down at the swirling green liquid in the glass.

“Does it...uh...have a name?” Emery asked, clearly stalling.

“Not really. I leave the naming drinks to the real master mixologist,” I said, tipping my head toward the cup. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

Dick sputtered with barely contained laughter as I repeated the same words I’d said to him about the binding ritual—the ritual that had left him recovering under the area’s best healers for two days.

“Ignore him,” I assured. “It’s fine.”

Mustering all of her considerable courage, Emery squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Resolutely, she raised the glass to her lips and prepared to take a sip. Around her, the crew stared intently at her, waiting with baited breath for the horrified look they knew would soon follow.

To nearly everyone’s surprise, however, there was no unpleasant reaction as Emery sipped the drink. In fact, she looked questioningly around at everyone and took another sip.

“What the—” Dick started to say.

“This has got to be a red flag, right?” Vomero added.

Cash nodded his head. “Clearly an instant fail. Nobody should actually LIKE having their tastebuds violated.”

I simply shrugged at Emery and reached out to take the glass from her. I tipped a sip to my own lips, smacking them to get the full bloom of flavor.

“Ahh...not bad but needed a little more rum,” I said.

“It was a lot better than I was expecting,” Emery said. “But it could definitely be a bit more boozy.”

“I wanted to mention it to you earlier,” AL interjected, “but you’ll never learn that way.”

“Wait a damn minute here!” Dick exclaimed. “Have you been faking all those god-awful concoctions you’ve been making us drink?”

His tone sounded genuinely shocked and betrayed. I laughed at the absurdity.

“Now that I think of it,” Vomero reasoned, “it makes no sense that Skye’s attempt at making mind-blowingly good drinks would result in a complete and catastrophic failure of taste. She knows how to make basic alcoholic beverages. The question is how were we all dumb enough to fall for it?”

“I know right?” Ryuuk said, smugly. In all the commotion, he had fallen out of his chair in a fit of giggles. Now as he stood back to his feet, he wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Who would be soooo dumb to fall for the ole’ Skye mixed em’ up a terrible concoction trick, eh?”

“He knew!?” Dick’s voice pitched high with disbelief.

“That’s why he always refused to drink anything she made,” Cash groaned in sudden understanding.

“It was a long, boring two weeks from Kalo-Mahoi,” I explained.

“Ahhh look at the bright side, guys,” Ryuuk drawled, slapping an arm over both Dick and Vomero’s shoulders and nodding at Cash. “Before you were all on the outside of an inside joke. Now, you all get to be on the inside. Just like me.”