Lanis quickly showers and changes into something a bit more worthy of a visit from a Kaisho-Renalis VP, choosing a loose white blouse and a pair of billowy blue pants from her recently expanded wardrobe. They're a nod to the Versk corporate colors, though she doubts anyone will notice.

She hears the door click open, hears the soft greeting of a deep voice, and a chuckle that drifts down the hallway. Lanis sets her face and takes a few deep breaths, muttering a navigation mantra to calm the odd flutter in her chest. She could sense Mirem’s nervousness, and the visit feels oddly precarious. Then she slips out of the bedroom to join Mirem and her uncle.

Peter Seto in the flesh appears just like his corporate picture, his one nod to the informality of seeing his niece in her apartment being the lack of a tie. He’s otherwise impeccably dressed, wearing a suit that even Lanis can recognize as a piece of corporate formal-wear art. He inclines his head with a small smile and immediately holds out a hand as Lanis enters.

“Peter Seto,” he says in a deep voice. “I was just telling my niece how lovely she’s always been as a host, though I haven’t visited in some time.” His hand is warm and firm, and his entire demeanor breathes an easy competence and a familiarity with power.

“Lanis,” Lanis says, squeezing his hand back. “A pleasure.”

Peter stands back and takes Lanis in, his eyes running from her temple down to her neck. Her hair has grown out since she first met Lanis, but to a discerning eye the peculiarity of her Fleet tech is still apparent.

He turns to Mirem, speaking to them both.

“I’m sorry for the late visit, but I’m afraid it couldn’t wait. Could you lower the blinds, Mirem? I could also use a drink, if you have one.”

Mirem exchanges a glance with Lanis.

“Um, sure. Whiskey?” Mirem says.

“Neat,” Peter replies.

Mirem pings her apartment control, and the blinds slowly roll down over the large city-facing windows while she pours her uncle a drink.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring up your bodyguards,” Mirem says, a slight challenge in her voice.

Peter takes the drink from Mirem. His smile, Lanis imagines, is slightly strained.

“What I have to say is unfortunately for the two of you only,” he says, moving to Mirem’s living room. He sets his drink on an elegant table next to one of the chairs, and pulls a black device from his pocket.

Mirem narrows her eyes.

“Is that a privacy field?” she says.

“As I said, for your ears alone. If you would disable the apartment control, Mirem, that would be helpful. This is a secondary precaution.”

He sets the device on the low table in front of Mirem’s couch, and then takes a seat in the chair. Lanis can hear a subtle buzzing in her ears as she moves to join Mirem on the couch across from him. Peter takes a sips of the whiskey. His smile fades.

“I know what you are,” he says. “And I don’t just mean Fleet.”

Lanis doesn’t respond, but she feels a thrum of electricity run up her spine.

“Peter, what’s this—” Mirem begins, but Peter holds up a hand.

“I’m not the one you need to worry about.” He takes a deep breath, and he suddenly looks older than he did five minutes ago.

“What I’m about to tell you…” he shakes his head slightly. “It sounds absurd, even to me.”

He begins.

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“Last week, Alain Renalis returned from a trip to the colonies. If you’re not familiar Lanis, that’s the eldest son of the Michael Renalis, majority shareholder of Kaisho-Renalis. Michael is still in control of the company, but his son is being trained to succeed him, especially after his health problems last year.” He grimaces, running his hands over his whiskey glass.

“Part of this succession training means paying a personal visit on a Fleet ship to KR’s substantial industrial holdings on Thelos Prime and Etana. It’s a privilege afforded rarely, and only to a select few.”

Lanis feels a crawling sensation in the pit of her stomach.

“He returned last week. Summoned me and several of the other vice-presidents in charge of corporate security, procurement, and other, adjacent areas. Something about him, though... was… off.” Peter shakes his head to himself, frowning.

“Four other members of the Kaisho-Renalis board of directors went along with Alain on his little interstellar tour. I don’t know any of them as well as I do Alain, so it might just be my imagination, but something about them feels odd too. It’s nothing explicit, and nothing that someone who hadn’t spent some time with Alain before would notice. But he’s… changed.”

He looks at Lanis. His left eye twitches in the dim light.

“He asked about you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Mirem says, breaking the half-moment of deathly silence that follows these words.

Peter spreads his hands.

“He asked us to find all recent navigators who are planet-side. Obviously that information is classified; even KR is unable to access it. But he gave us your name, too. Lanis.”

Peter adjust himself in his seat, the leather creaking.

“I’ll give it to Fleet; they did a thorough job, scrubbing your existence from Admin. But it still didn’t take us long, once we had your name.”

“Who else knows?” Lanis asks, her voice hoarse.

Peter shakes his head.

“I’m overseeing the request. Which is unusual. I don’t know if Mirem has said anything about me, but I’m more… the security side of things, rather than recruitment.”

“Spying,” Mirem fills in.

Peter gives a noncommittal shrug.

“Call it what you want, my purview is fairly broad. Imagine my surprise when I found that you were here. With my niece.” He meets Mirem’s eyes.

“Anyway, don’t say that family doesn’t count for something,” he says.

“How long do we have?” Lanis asks.

“Hours. Two of my subordinates know: they’re the ones who brought me the information. I can’t sit on it any longer than tonight. Obviously I shouldn’t be here as it is,” he says, his voice taking on a new edge. “But I need to know what I’m dealing with. Clearly any corp would be interested in recruiting a navigator, even a damaged one, but why does Alain know about you? And what the hell is wrong with him?”

“Tell him what you want Lanis, I’m going to pack our things. I’ll ping Versk night security to let them know that we’re coming to the complex,” Mirem says, standing. She's suddenly grateful that it’s become a regular occurrence for Lanis to come in at all hours of the night; Mirem’s presence and a packed bag might elicit a few questions, but she’ll at least have some time to think of an explanation for Sander and Renfol.

Peter leans in as Lanis explains, Fleet confidentiality agreement be damned.

“On my first jump, I encountered something in the warp. Something that interrupted the jump. It... killed our navigator, and almost the ship. I had to jump us back to Terra alone.”

“Something? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Something… hungry. Something that wanted to devour the ship, and us. I could… feel it, coming after me as I made the jump. There was an Androvan destroyer that got pulled in too. Whatever it was, it tore the ship apart like it was nothing.” Lanis can feel Peter’s eyes boring into her, like she's an interrogation subject. “Fleet didn’t tell me what it was. Maybe they couldn’t. They simply called it an anomaly, and told me to forget it ever happened.”

“Christ,” Peter says softly. “So whatever it was could still be out there? Attacking ships?”

“Or infiltrating them,” Lanis says, her mouth suddenly dry. How many ships did Fleet have? How many warp jumps were there a day? Only they knew.

“You said that half the board went with them? And they’ve all been acting strangely since they came back?” Lanis says.

Peter nods absently, lost in thought. He says, “Not a controlling majority, but close to it.”

He stands, suddenly, and drains the rest of his whiskey.

“I need to go. I have some Fleet contacts. Maybe they can help. Take care of yourself, Lanis. I’ll try to keep in touch.”

He stuffs the privacy field device in his pocket and moves to the bedroom, where Lanis can overhear him speaking to Mirem, his voice low and urgent.

Then the slamming of a door, and silence.