Vas stepped out of the Governor's glass mansion under the watchful gaze of a few guards. They had searched him just a few moments prior, quite intimately, suspicious he had grabbed something he didn’t own. He hadn’t, of course. It would be stupid to even try.

Still, he was tired of the ritual. How many years had it been working for Creighton? Three by now? Time blended on Tella, but it was certainly almost three. Enough time that the guards should know better. He supposed they just liked to remind him of his place. Everyone did.

He’d meant what he said, about his story being a normal one. It was normal. Tella wasn’t what it was, but there were still valuable metals beneath the surface. Metals that needed mining. Mining that needed workers. This time there was no boom to drive production, no wartime economy. So Tella did what must be done. Mostly non-violent convicts, political prisoners, family of dissidents, all brought to the planet to work its mines.

Vas’ story was not unusual, but he was an unusual result. Tella had a tendency to drag everyone it caught down. Like quicksand, it submerged you into the mud. Everyone who came here once had a plan, a dream, something colorful to hold onto. Tella did away with that. It wasn't a place for dreamers. But Vas... well there was always something about him. Something uniquely unbreakable. An eternal hunger in his eyes. It irked people. It is a universal trait of those who have given up that they want nothing more than for everyone else to give up as well. Vas never would.

Pushing ever forward, Vas began darting between this alley and that. Stopping and starting, turning around, ducking between small spaces, avoiding neon lights that beckoned lonely workers. Whenever he passed one of the city’s still operating cameras in an alley, he waited for someone else to pass first. They were all motion activated and would follow the first moving human they saw, so long as that wasn’t Vas, they weren’t much of a problem. It was another old ritual, but one he approached with particular caution today. Security was up in the city after the recent attacks, but Vas wasn't worried about that. No, it was something else. He could almost feel the Peacekeeper's eyes following him as he moved, well aware of everything, laughing.

He shook the image away and kept moving, doubling his efforts. On his way, he passed a street food stall whose enticing aromas almost halted him, but he persisted. A few turns later he caught wind of an argument between two boys his age, matching tattoos emblazoned on their neck. Something about a girl. It always was. Again, he ignored it and moved on. In his haste, he almost bumped into two rather burly men, they cursed at him briefly but quickly returned to their conversation. They were complaining about their Captain, Dalur, a smuggler. She was a hardass, by all accounts. Sri disliked her. Vas kept moving.

Only a minute later, as he was cutting through another small alley, something else distracted him. It was a man, dressed in a mud-stained gray coat, sitting with his back against the wall, something wrapped and tucked under his left arm. A vagrant, Vas knew, either too drunk to go home or without a home to go to. It was a common sight.

Vas considered simply stepping around the man and continuing, and he gladly would have were it not for an untimely pang of empathy. With a sigh, he walked up to the man, careful to keep a reasonable distance. "Sir, if you don't have a place to sleep, Madam Doria's is nearby. She usually lets people stay the night in her side alley and sometimes will even toss you a spare blanket. It'll be warmer and safer there than here."

There was no reply. Vas sighed. "Sir, I really don't think it's wise..."

"Kind advice stranger." Vas hadn't expected any answer, let alone one so clear. He looked down at the man and met a pair of sparkling, very sober eyes underneath unkempt black and gray bangs. "But, I don't think I'll be sleeping tonight."

Vas swallowed. "Your choice." He said, suddenly eager to be done with the interaction.

"Is it?" The man replied with a grin.

Vas wasn't having it. "Uhhh... yes." The man smiled again, and Vas decided the conversation was over. "Well... best of luck. Stay safe."

The man said nothing, only smiling and tucking whatever it was he had under his left arm further back. Vas grinned nervously and stepped around and past the man's legs. He had places to be that weren't here.

As he put distance between himself and the man, he heard him mutter one last thing. "Black ships in the sky tonight." Vas whirled back, but the man's eyes were closed and resting, like he hadn't said anything at all.

.........

Vas passed the entrance of warehouse number 191, an enormous steel door unopened for well over three hundred years, and rounded the side. After delicately stepping over pieces of rubble and stacks of unused crates, he reached the side entrance. Like the main entrance it also looked abandoned. Unlike the main entrance, it was anything but.

One knock. Pause. Two knocks. Pause. One knock. One last glance around. He normally wouldn’t bother but tonight had been strange.

From the other side he heard a response. Two knocks. Pause. One knock. Pause. Two knocks.

Vas fought the sudden urge to pound at the door until they just let him in, tired of the ceremony of it all, but he resisted.

One knock. Pause. Three knocks. Pause. One knock.

He stepped back, waiting for the door to swing open. Again, he glanced around. Nothing. The door opened.

A large, balding man with a graying black beard glowered down at him from the half opened door frame.

“By the order of Governor Creighton,” Vas began. “You and all your…”

“Shut up Vas.” The door opened all the way for a smiling Vas to step through.

“Got to keep you on your toes Vik.” Vik didn’t smile. He'd never, not once, found the joke funny.

As he stepped into the dim space, Vas took in The 19’s base one last time. Printed maps scattered randomly around the room. Hand-drawn plans, both successes and failures, all painted red and covering the walls. Tired workers leaning against crates, nibbling on stolen food, talking softly. Mouses afraid of a fat, blond cat.

Vas walked past a few, nodding at some familiar faces before reaching the stairs. Lightly, he strode up the rusted metal, keeping away from the even more rusted railing. Vik followed behind, one hand latched onto the railing at all times.

Upon reaching the top, Vas turned left and down the catwalk, toward the Administrator’s office. This time he didn’t knock, opening the door without hesitation and entering the small room. Vik entered right behind him, closing the door as he did.

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“Were you followed?”

Instead of answering immediately Vas took in the faces around the room, as he always did. First there was Tuk, the only one not actually at the table. Instead, he rested against one of the walls, fiery beard clearly visible even through shadows. Then, there was Vik, thin and tall, with dark skin and a gray beard. He walked past Vas to his normal spot on the table's left. Next to him was Sharn, her brown hair pulled back into a tight knot. On the other side there was Sri, youngest of them all, healthy brown skin not yet carved and wrinkled by the weight of labor. And, in the middle, surrounded by the other four, the man who asked the question. Short and middle-aged, with curling brown hair and alert eyes. Hungry eyes. Mar, the leader of the 19s.

“Have I ever been followed before?” Vas said, finally.

“Not the time or the day, Vas.” Said Vik.

Vas paused, then relented. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Cameras?” It was Mar again.

“Avoided them with extra precaution.”

Mar nodded. “Never too safe. Not with a Peacekeeper.” Suddenly his eyes darted to Vik. “Did you search him?”

Vik looked around confused. “No. I’ve never…”

“Of course.” Mar interjected. “Should have asked you though. Can never be too sure.”

As long as Vas had known him, Mar had never looked well rested, but tonight he looked exhausted. His normal paranoia elevated exponentially. Not that it was without warrant. Mar was the highest ranking of the original 19 rebels who survived Maurius’ purge. Nineteen survivors. Vik had told him they used to number well over three thousand. And now, five years later, another Peacekeeper had come to Tella.

A moment of silence followed, nobody quite sure what to say. It was Vik who finally brushed it aside. "What did you learn?"

Vas shrugged. "Not much. Only what I'll be doing. They kept me out of the meeting."

"What was the Peacekeeper like?" Sri asked, the question almost forcing its way out as Tuk glared at him.

Vas thought. "Different."

"What do you mean different?"

"I mean different, strange. I don't know... hard to read."

That troubled them. They took turns exchanging quick glances, uncertainty rising with a crescendo. Vik stroked his graying beard. Sri grinded his teeth. Tuk repositioned the rifle on his back. Sharn glanced over at Mar.

"It doesn't matter." The leader muttered, turning everyone's attention on him. "He's a man. Doesn't matter how strange. He'll bleed."

Vas wasn't so sure, but some of the others took heart in the words. Mar looked at them each in turn, the small, reserved man appearing to them like solid oak. He ended with Vas, eyes that always seemed to know all. "What did you learn, Vas? Really?"

Vas sighed. "As I said. Only what I'll be doing. Tomorrow, I talk him through the city. The day after…” He paused for dramatic effect, fighting down a smile. “I take him to the site of the attack."

The mood of the room flipped in an instant. Vik pounded the table in excitement and slapped Vas on the shoulder. Mar merely nodded. The plan was coming together. Once Vas had told them the Peacekeeper was coming, they'd robbed and attacked the mining rig on purpose. Left the site riddled with marks and clues. It was bait, and he was taking it.

"Could have started with that, but good. That's good. Any guess how large the group will be?" Mar asked.

Vas deliberated for a second. "As I said, I wasn't in the meeting, but... I'm pretty sure it'll be small."

"That'll be the death of him." Vik said, confidence suddenly restored.

“I’m not so sure of that.” Sri muttered under his breath. He was a smuggler, the one who supplied the group’s weapons. Mar had made enticing promises to secure his help, but he had a lot more to lose than the others did.

“What was that?” Vik growled, brown hand curling into a fist.

Sri raised his hands defensively and looked to Mar and Vas for help. Mar was distracted, so he focused on Vas, pleading for assistance. Vas sighed. “He’s right. We can’t be sure. Everyone knows what happened last time. We still have time to rethink. This is a Peacekeeper. Nobody knows what he’s really capable of.”

“You weren’t here last time kid. You don’t know.” Sharn hissed, aging skin tightening with fear.

“I saw enough!” Vas yelled. He remembered- black hand raised to the sky, yellow teeth, yellow flames. They all remembered.

Mar’s fist plunged onto the metal table like a gavel, the sound echoing around the small room as a storm. “Enough!” He paused. “Enough. This is our chance. We won't waste it.”

Sri shook his head and Vas crossed his arms. He tried. He did.

"What time will it be?" Surprised, Vas turned to see Tuk. The red-haired man seldom spoke in meetings, but he would be in charge of the attack.

Vas shrugged and the tension in the room faded. "Morning or night, probably. They'll tell me tomorrow, and I'll tell you."

Tuk narrowed his eyes. He didn't like that, but he wouldn't say it. Sri would though. "That doesn't give us much time, especially if it's morning.

"Us? You won't be there." It was Sharn, the only other of the leadership who’d participate in the attack.

Sri sniffled. "I was referring to the collective us."

"That's an awfully..."

Placid brown eyes unusually heated, Mar silenced her with a glare. "It was a fair comment. Not knowing the time does make it harder for us."

Sharn glared back, but softened when she saw his own eyes had calmed. The couple exchanged unvoiced words, and then the tension faded.

Mar returned his attention to Vas. "Let us know as soon as you can." Vas nodded. Mar nodded back. "Ok, then, the plan... one last time."

.........

An hour later, Vas was the first to leave the room. He strode out, shutting the door closed as he did. Instead of continuing forward across the catwalk, however, he paused, listening. From the other side of the door he heard voices.

"Do you trust him?" Vik asked bluntly.

Mar answered. "Vas has proven his loyalty time and time again. I trust him with my life."

There was no response.

Vas walked away, a strange lump in his throat. He was out of the warehouse soon after, but he didn't head home, instead turning right and waiting at the base of the entrance. Sri followed a few minutes later. They made eye contact for a mere moment and nodded, their pact settled. Then, Sri walked away, disappearing between a pair of warehouses. Vas, however, stayed for a second, his eyes naturally drifting upward to the artificial night of Tella's dome, his prison. It would start its sunrise cycle soon, bathing the city in artificial light. He wondered if it was a good omen. Probably not, it wasn't even a real sun.