10. Sweet Dreams

“Tina, check for new messages,” he mumbled at T1-N4. It was probably the sixth or seventh time he’d asked that day, but he didn’t want to count. Counting made it more embarrassing.

“You have no new text messages, Niko.”

Of course not. Why would Kestrel reach out to him?

And why had Niko spent the morning hoping he would?

He leaned forward, smearing a hand over his face. T1-N4 floated around him, ambivalent.

“You seem under the weather lately, Niko! Here is a suggestion. In the last two months, you’ve spent ninety-one hours and four minutes online searching for Elliott James Kestrel. You exhibit the highest signs of engagement and wakefulness when researching this person. It’s good to engage in what makes you happy. Would you like me to read you the latest news or facts about Elliott James Kestrel?”

“No. No.”

“I can also tell you an internet joke about Elliott James Kestrel: how do you know if the infamous sniper likes you?”

Niko’s lip curled.

“He misses you!” T1-N4 exclaimed.

Niko desperately felt around the desk for a projectile. Anything would work at this point. His hand landed on an old beer can and he hurled it towards T1-N4, striking true. With a sharp clang, the little bot was knocked out of the air, bouncing off the floor before righting herself with her extendable arms. It all brought Niko much more joy than hearing T1-N4 recite Kestrel facts would.

“That wasn’t very nice, Niko,” she said, rising back into the air, engines whirring on overdrive. “As an Autonomous Assistance Bot, I am programmed to see to your physical and emotional needs. Using aggression is never okay!”

Niko grunted.

T1-N4 resumed her ambivalent floating, this time making her way out into the kitchen to discard the beer-can-turned-projectile. Niko switched his phone back to private mode, opening the text interface. His heart leapt into his throat as a new text came through.

It just as quickly sank when he saw it was from Zann instead.

So get this. Niko stared at the onslaught of text. Fucker got two more yesterday. He’s changing up tactics. Went right to Jande Seiiren’s residence this time, no fanfare. Painted the wall with Seiiren and we have intel that Giannis Alexopoulos was present too but is missing. They think he tried to flee and was lost at sea. I’d say we might have a real fucking problem on our hands now but we”ve already had one for a long time. Anyway, you’ll see it in the news soon enough. I’ve updated your files.

Niko didn’t know what to say. Getting real tired of this asshole, he replied. He was grateful for the exchange being through text, afraid that any stiltedness in his voice would give him away.

You’re telling me. Come on, Niko. Work me some miracles here. Use your magic bounty hunting powers and make this guy fuck off.

You have no idea,he wanted to tell his brother.

He wondered what Zann would say if he told him he was the one to let Giannis Alexopoulos die. That the man had been begging for help, sobbing in fear, and Niko let him drown.

He wondered what Zann would think if he told him he couldn’t have cared less about it, either. Or that he actually saw what Kestrel was getting at with this whole thing.

I’m trying, he sent instead, then closed their exchange, swiping over to the contact of a black market armor technician named Noori, the other correspondence he’d been anxiously awaiting all morning. She’d promised to text him as soon as his suit was ready for pickup.

Niko had gone straight to her shop after departing Valaevanas—the armor was integral and he needed its neurotech functioning again. Noori charged an excruciating premium—as most black market denizens did—which Niko paid out of pocket instead of Galapol”s funding, but she worked fast, and she worked quietly, and he was promised the suit back next day. Zann would never need to know where or when or how it was damaged.

Niko had been avoiding his brother a lot lately.

There were no updates from Noori, either, so he swiped over to Kestrel’s contact now and stared at the black hole image. Then he did what he knew he shouldn’t.

He called Kestrel.

Soft, impersonal ringing filled the quiet of his living room until it terminated unsurprisingly with the automated voice prompt. He hung up quickly. Of course Kestrel wasn’t going to answer—the man had been livid. He had been more than that. Niko had betrayed him.

He exhaled sharply, stewing in the miasmic silence. Then he called again.

And didn’t get an answer again. This time, though, he left a message, brief but to the point.

“Elliott. Call me. Please call me.”

Niko leaned forward in his chair, resting his forehead against the simple foldout desk. He’d fucked up on Valaevanas. He’d only succeeded in angering Kestrel and driving a wedge between the delicate truce that was building between them. He knew that much. And if Kestrel didn’t hate him already, he definitely did now.

His phone rang, the sound of it cutting straight through the light haze of sleep that had already begun to seep in. Niko sat up immediately, reaching forward to answer, heart hammering.

“Elliott—”

“What?” Zann’s voice cut through the silence, pulling all the air out of the room.

Niko froze, his arms and chest going numb. Silence stretched between them, cold and strange as Niko searched frantically for an explanation and came up short again and again.

“I—I don’t know. I think I nodded off. I’m so tired lately.”

It was paper thin, and Niko knew it. But it wasn’t entirely a lie—since he’d started hunting again, Niko felt tired in a way that went somewhere deeper than just the physical.

“You’re overdoing it again,” Zann said.

“Only way to keep up with this bastard,” Niko said. His voice sounded watery. Zann had to see right through it.

“Listen, Niko, I— Shit. What?” Zann’s voice grew muffled as he spoke to someone in the background. Niko could just make out Fourier’s voice and tensed immediately.

“Can you give me a damn minute?” Zann asked Fourier. “Right now? Fine. Okay.” His voice grew clearer, directed back at the phone now. “So, I need to address something right now but I’ve got some new case info for you that just came in. Stuff I don’t want to summarize through texts. Will you be around later?”

“Yeah,” Niko said.

“I’ll talk to you,” Zann said, and hung up.

Niko sighed, staring at the phone hologram when a notification caught his eye. He”d had a missed call when talking to Zann. He opened the notification; it was Kestrel.

Fuck.

He called him back, full of nervous energy now, tight as a wound spring. Kestrel answered on the third ring.

“Yes?” he asked, tone icy.

“Elliott, I—I’m sorry. For what it’s worth.”

Silence hung between them again before Kestrel replied. “Are you?”

“I just— I see why you’re doing it now. But I thought— I just wanted to—”

He was losing himself, the words becoming jumbled, a tangle of rapidly swelling fear.

“You wanted to what?” Kestrel said, each word precisely delivered.

Niko shook his head.

I wanted to protect you.The thought was so ludicrous, so outrageous. He was supposed to be hunting Kestrel. Now all he wanted to do was keep him safe, protect him from a galaxy righteously enraged. Regardless of how frustrating and stubborn the other man was. Niko felt he was back on Valaevanas, no ground below him, only the churning sea.

“I just thought there had to be a better way than this. I— Meet me again. On Sunorrna. Tonight. Will you?”

The only reply he got was silence.

But Niko wasn’t going to give up. “Elliott. Meet me. I’ll be there tonight. I’ll be waiting for you.”

The line went dead, leaving Niko alone again.

Niko stepped off the So?adora, back in his suit again. Noori had finished her work late into the afternoon and he’d swung by her shop to collect it on his way out to Sunorrna.

He had no weapons on him this time. Whatever state Kestrel was going to be in—if the man even deigned to show—Niko wasn’t here to fight. Though he knew Kestrel might be.

But he couldn’t bring himself to take the guns, nor any other weapon. They sent a message, one he didn’t want to carry tonight.

This time, it was night on Sunorrna—a rare occurrence with its double suns. Night lasted three hours, and only came every four days. Or so he had read in his hours of sleepless research. A brilliant tapestry of stars filled the sky. Miles of empty skyscrapers stood, dark and silent silhouettes like gravestones of the world’s former potential.

The wind was stronger now than it had been in the day, tossing Niko’s hair around, into his eyes. All around him, the city streets stood silent, occasional rare lights on in windows, giving a bizarre impression that someone still lived there. He had learned the power grid still functioned in many intact areas.

As he approached Tulnath Boulevard, Niko could see the open door to the third-floor apartment cracked open. The light was on inside, spilling warm and golden onto the balcony railing. His heart skipped a beat at the sight as he tried to remember. Were the lights on the last time he’d been here? Did Kestrel turn them on after he’d left?

He climbed the stairs, his arrival announced with each heavy step, and paused before the cracked door, pushing it open.

Kestrel sat in the same chair he’d been in last time, hands draped over its arms. They still bore faded cuts and bruises from when he”d punched Niko’s armor. He looked expectantly—blandly—towards Niko.

That he’d gotten here first—Niko didn’t know what to make of it.

“You came,” Niko said quietly. Something panged in his chest, something warm and liquid.

“You wore the suit,” Kestrel replied. “Even though you asked me here.”

“I…” Niko glanced awkwardly down at himself. He would take it off. He would pry it off piece by piece, a show of cautious trust, if he could. But it wasn’t possible.

Niko moved to sit on the couch again, glancing around the room. It was as pristine and preserved as before, gentle lighting emanating from a crisscrossing, artsy chandelier. He half expected its owners to come walking out, demanding to know what they were doing here in their home. But they never would—Sunorrna and everything that remained on it of evanescent civilization was liminal now, slowly sinking out of galactic memory.

“Niko,” Kestrel said, his jaw set. Niko could see him fighting against his own frustration as he spoke. “I know you’re trying to help me. I know you’re doing what you think is best. I can’t express how grateful I am. I’m sorry for lashing out at you on Valaevanas.”

“It’s alright,” Niko said. “You were right. I wasn’t listening to you. I want to know why you won’t even consider what I’m saying either, though.”

“I’d like to explain something to you. Though I don’t know if you’ll listen.”

“I’ll listen. I’m listening.”

“No one is coming to help. No one ever will.”

Niko wanted to argue, but held his tongue.

“Distributing these files won’t do anything. Going to Galapol won’t do anything. Appealing to the press won’t do anything.”

Niko couldn’t help himself, leaning forward. “Why do you think that? People are going to care about something like this. This is terrible. These people should be tried for their crimes. They should be investigated. This— What you’re doing. It just makes you look like a nutjob. It paints them as the victims.”

“Their reach extends to the media and the internet. Even the dark web. Besides, they’ve already made me look like a nutjob. I’ve seen the news. It’s hardly anything new. I’ve dealt with it before that, as my life rapidly imploded. They took everything. Every ally, every friend. Every single connection I ever had. They isolated me from society. No one believed me. Or if they did, they were threatened by entire governments. Or paid well off to help ostracize me further.”

Niko hesitated. “Your parents—”

“My parents are probably doing this for a payoff. I doubt they even needed to be threatened, but if they were, they’d cave easily. Frankly, I think they’d do this just for fun, though. Getting paid would just add incentive to what was already there.”

“Why would they do that to you?”

“Because my parents are cruel, stupid people, who have always hated and abused their children. Cleo—” He struggled to even say her name. “Cleo used to get the worst of it, because she was older. She’d stop them from coming after me.”

Niko ached for them both. “Elliott, um,” he started. “Have you seen the Galapol files on you?” He knew Kestrel was more than capable of getting information when he wanted it—he had, after all, thrown Niko’s own license number back at him.

Kestrel tensed. “I haven’t.”

“I can show you. I have a copy directly from someone in Galapol. Everything in these files—it’s the only information they have to work off of right now.”

Kestrel went quiet. He picked up a bottle of water from the floor beside the chair and uncapped it, taking a few swallows. Niko recognized it as the same tactic he’d been using on Jande Seiiren. The same one that had been used on Niko himself on Uula. Kestrel was buying himself time to think. He set the bottle on the coffee table between them.

“Show me. I want to see it.”

Niko hesitated. Showing him this was a shattering breach of trust between Zann and himself. But so is even being here at all, he thought. Why draw the line there?

He sighed, knowing he was beyond the point of turning back now, and thumbed through his own files. A moment later, Kestrel’s phone chimed as he received what Niko had sent.

Like the Honeybliss files Kestrel had sent him, it took a moment to load, both men sitting in silence as it did. Once it was ready, Kestrel opened it slowly, methodically, his gaze dull, apathetic even. He began making his way through each file, gesturing quickly through holographic images of himself. He paused briefly only on pictures that contained Cleo as well. Then he began scrolling through a medical and professional history that Niko was beginning to understand was somehow full of fabrications.

Niko watched him in silence. It was a rare moment to see the other man at rest, not staring back at him warily, but rather engaged in something else. He forced himself to look away, wondering with a chill if anything in the files had ever been real at all. Job histories, master’s degrees. Even the interrogations with supposed former colleagues, employers, and his ex-boyfriend. Were any of those people even someone Kestrel actually knew, or were they hired actors from Honeybliss?

A soft snort escaped Kestrel, drawing Niko’s gaze back to him. Niko realized he had made it to some of the particularly egregious parts—specific mentions of a history of violence against his sister, and that she’d disappeared from the public eye in fear of him. Theories that he’d buried her somewhere on their shared property.

Niko noticed he never once looked surprised, though.

When Kestrel reached Liam’s interview, his mouth turned downward in quiet, subtle displeasure, as though he’d tasted something particularly sour. It was the most he’d given away during his entire search through Zann’s files, the carefully bland expression cracking in a hairline fracture to reveal something that lurked deeper. Niko weighed whether to ask him or not about it, before opening his mouth to speak.

Ringing tore through the still and silent room, making both men startle. Kestrel eyed him sharply, warily, like a cornered animal. Niko glanced at his interface, the blood draining from him at the sight of Zann’s contact number.

“I—I’m sorry. I need to take this.”

“Of course,” Kestrel said, looking back at the files and resuming his scrolling.

Niko stood awkwardly and wandered out onto the balcony. He closed the door behind him, but knew the city was silent enough that his voice would carry anyway. He could probably get pretty far before Kestrel would be unable to hear him.

He answered.

“Niko? Sorry about earlier today.”

“It’s no problem.”

“Where are you?”

“Um...” It wasn’t a question he was expecting to be asked.

“I dropped by your apartment. I was in the area for Ch’ua’s Chicken and figured it would be best to just stop by instead of call. Are you nearby?”

“I, uh, needed some fresh air,” Niko said awkwardly, wincing at himself. His heart leapt into a sprint, hammering in his chest. “So I took the ship out to Saanas Park.”

Zann paused. “Hey, you doing okay, Niko?”

“Yeah. I’m alright, Zann.”

“Well, it’s too bad you’re out there. I got you some nachos but they’re all mine now.” He laughed. “Nah. I can drop them off in your fridge if you want.”

“No, it’s okay. You can have them. Thanks, though.” The idea of Zann looking through his apartment while he wasn’t there made Niko’s skin crawl, the realization sending a jolt through him. He and Zann had keycards to each other’s homes. He’d never had a problem with Zann dropping things off, being there alone before. Seeing anything Niko might have on file.

He’d also never lied to Zann about a bounty. Especially one as pivotal and elusive as this.

Everything was different now, and Niko was the only one who had changed. Zann was only doing what the two of them had done together for years.

“You sure you’re okay? Never saw you pass up free nachos.”

“Yeah. I’m just not hungry.”

“This shit isn’t real chicken anyway,” Zann continued. “You’re probably better off not eating it. Anyhow, we got some good intel on where this fucker’s going to be next. I think it’s pretty solid. My team has been piecing patterns together and they’ve got a ninety-three percent certainty that he’s going for Iincha’cul next.” He abbreviated the Dvaab leader’s name, knowing Niko wouldn’t remember the whole thing anyway. Iincha’cul had such renown among his people that there weren’t enough letters in the alphabet twice over to spell the whole thing out.

“The, uh, chancellor of Neema?” Niko tried to sound surprised. He knew Iincha’cul was next. He was among the Honeybliss files and had a speech coming up that had made Niko’s original list. His files had been particularly distressing to Niko, and had involved legitimate cannibalism.

“Yeah. So, we’re planning to go all in on this. We’re using all our resources. We’ve even made the chancellor aware. He was freaked out and wanted to cancel, so we discussed an idea to trap Galactic King Fuckface when he inevitably shows. We gave Iincha’cul the okay but we’re going to be there en masse, undercover. I think this is it. We can trap him here. We’re making a plan that I can show you. We’re going to cage this bastard and finally take him the fuck down.”

Niko glanced back towards the apartment, his throat tightening. “Okay.” He was unsure whether it was best to lean into the enthusiasm more or push it away. He had no doubt Kestrel could hear him. But Zann could too, and Niko had already fucked up enough times with him that day.

“Hell yeah,” Niko added, pushing more color into his tone this time. “Let’s end this. I’m ready.”

“Yeah. I want to see this guy get fucking canceled. I need you there, Niko. I know you’re tired, but this is going to be the last time. Let’s give him a real bad day.”

“Yeah,” Niko said.

“You’ll be there, right?” Zann asked.

“You know I will.”

“Good man,” Zann said. “Anyway, I’ve got some ‘chicken’ to eat and we’re making prep. Tomorrow at the station?”

“Let’s make it happen,” Niko said.

He hung up, and stayed out on the balcony a few moments, closing his eyes and letting the wind caress his face, his hair. He felt stifled in the suit. His whole body was on fire. The entire vast, silent planet suddenly felt too small, too oppressive. Too crowded.

Niko finally went back inside, eyeing Kestrel warily. The other man glanced at him. He had already made his way through most of the files, his face as dispassionate again as ever. Niko’s insides tied themselves into knots. He wanted to do anything but sit, but everything else felt awkward. Reluctantly, he sank back onto the couch.

“My sponsor. The one who, uh, ironically gathered those files,” he offered.

“Your ‘Galapol connection,’” Kestrel said.

“Yeah.”

Niko was bursting, the energy and urgency inside him too big to contain. “Elliott, you need to take this to Galapol. You have to. They need to see. You— No— No. I’ll do it.”

Kestrel raised his gaze from the files, meeting Niko’s own blankly. “You’ll do it? And let them know you’ve been having these little trysts with me?”

“This is bigger than me,” Niko said. “It doesn’t matter.”

Kestrel paused, a frown rippling over his brow, breaking the curated stoicism he’d been wearing. He stared at Niko in silence, as though expecting anything but that.

And then it was gone again. The blandness that returned to Kestrel’s face had a particular edge to it, like a dull razor.

“I already did, Niko.”

“What?”

“Galapol already know. They know all of it. I went to them two and a half years ago. I tried again and again. I reached out to different branches. I sent them everything you’ve seen. They know. They know why I’m doing this. The moment they figured out who I am, they knew the motive. It may have taken time for the right hand to catch up with the left, but they’re there by now. They don’t care. They never did. They have to bow to those governments too. In fact, I’m certain they had a hand in orchestrating my public undoing. When I made too many waves, I woke one night to assassins in my house. Maybe that was their hand too. They probably fabricated the history you see in these files.”

Niko stared at him. All the air was pulled from his lungs.

“They’re likely not even the full extent of their real internal research, either. It’s just what you needed to be shown to do your job.”

There was no way. They couldn’t all know. Not everyone. Zann had given him the files—they contained more than he was legally allowed to be shown.

“Even if you brought the evidence to them,” Niko said slowly, “it doesn’t mean that everyone in Galapol knows. The guy I work with didn’t know. He’s a good man. He cares a lot about injustice. Sincerely. I’ve worked with him a long time. I— He’s my brother.”

Kestrel stared at him, something akin to pity in his eyes that drove Niko mad. He felt like he was scrambling. Every explanation Niko grasped for only brought him further from believability, it seemed.

“No. It’s not like that. When our mother and brother were murdered, their killers were let off. They got a slap on the wrist and nothing more. They disappeared to some back corner of the galaxy. It wasn’t even legal, but he worked with me and we tracked them down. It took years. We gave them the justice they didn’t get but that they deserved. That’s who Zann is. He understands.”

“Niko,” Kestrel said, his tone softening. Something panged inside Niko at hearing him say his name, at hearing it framed inside his handsome voice. “You’re telling me you hunted down your family’s killers, even when it wasn’t legally sanctioned.”

“Uh. I. Yeah,” Niko said, not liking where this was going.

“If someone had asked you to stop, would you have?”

Niko felt himself flushing. “No,” he admitted, uncomfortable now. He saw exactly what Kestrel was getting at. He swallowed, his dry throat clicking.

“Why did you do it? Why did you even have to?”

“I…” Niko ground his jaw. He fought tooth and nail to keep from admitting it, but the truth was the truth, ugly and hypocritical or not. “They were never given justice.”

But Kestrel didn’t dig in. Instead, he just looked at Niko for a long moment before glancing passively away. “You have a lot of faith in your brother. I hope that you’re right.”

Niko sat in his discomfort a while before speaking again, eager to switch the subject away from himself. “Is anything from those files even true?”

Kestrel shrugged, closing out the files. The room dimmed with the lack of hologram light. “My birth name. Where I worked. Where I went to school. My stay in the hospital. And such.”

Niko’s eyebrows shot up. Of all the things that he’d have particularly pegged as fabricated, that last one was top of the list.

Kestrel noticed his surprise. “It wasn’t for the reasons it says. I was…” He paused, taking another drink to pace himself. “My grief was unbearable. After she died. When no one would listen to me. When no one stood by me. When I realized my sister was never coming home again. That she had no future anymore. That everything she had ever worked for was gone now. That I was profoundly alone. I—I couldn’t function anymore.”

Niko winced. He wanted to reach out, to comfort the grieving man, but didn’t dare.

“Cleo was my world. She was my only family. She took on the worst from our genetic donors and moved out when she was sixteen. She took me with her. She raised me. She put me through school. She gave me a home.

“I’ve been alone since. They took my friends. My accomplishments. My dignity. My employment. Even my boyfriend. Then they tried to kill me, because what they did to me wasn’t enough. I—”

Kestrel laughed breathlessly, a broken smile on his lips as he looked at Niko. When he spoke again, it was barely a whisper. “Niko, I’ve been so… alone.”

Niko swallowed again, his throat sticky and dry from the stress pressing in on him. Memories of taunting Kestrel with cruel accusations of killing his sister sat in a different way entirely now that Niko knew the truth.

“I thought,” Kestrel started, “you were going to be like everyone else. That you’d learn the truth and then just… turn away. Everyone else has. Everyone. I thought that’s what it was when you showed up there. When you wanted me to relent.”

“No, Elliott. I’m still here.”

He glanced at the bottle of water. It looked dangerously inviting.

Kestrel noticed. “Have some.”

Niko hesitated before taking the bottle and chugging down most of what remained. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Kestrel only shrugged.

He was burning up now, all too aware of the restriction of the suit, of how tight and encasing it was. Normally, it was a comfort—the suit gave him protection. It gave him freedom. But it felt like a furnace now, like a modular sarcophagus. He unlatched the gloves, the cool air of the room a balm on his skin, and massaged at his fingers.

Kestrel’s attention fell to Niko’s hands, his gaze seeming to wake up, attentive now, the moment of raw emotion gently falling away. To Niko’s surprise, the other man let out a soft laugh, another faint smile—sincere and amused this time—creeping across his face.

He stood and crossed the room, closing the distance between them. Niko’s heart sped up all over again. He sat, staring up at Kestrel. There was a softness to the other man’s gaze now, the careful apathy and pain both tucked away. If Niko had shared rare moments with Kestrel before, this was the most exceptional of them all. He reached out and took Niko’s hands in his own. The gesture was startling. He held them palm down, trailing his thumb along the backs of Niko’s fingers. Kestrel’s hands were warm—the only sensation in the room now. Niko hadn’t been ready for this.

Kestrel tilted his head, half-smile still present. “Really?”

“Really what?”

“‘Killjoy?’”

“Oh.” Niko felt sheepish suddenly. Kestrel had noticed the old tattoos that adorned his hands—myriad symbols and markings, including a compass along the back of his left hand, and letters printed one each across his fingers, spelling out KILLJOY. He winced. “Yep. Got that one when I was a little drunk.”

“Is that what you call yourself? Killjoy?” Kestrel’s smile grew.

“Used to be, uh, a name I was known for around the black market.”

“It’s not enough letters to even cover every finger. What’s this last one?” Kestrel traced his thumb along the left pinky. Niko shifted on the couch, a new kind of heat overtaking him.

It was surreal, bizarre, this sort of simple closeness. To be explored by Kestrel. To have his hands held. It was like Uula all over again, the sudden shift into something different. Something that Niko wouldn’t let himself look at head on. He couldn’t. Kestrel eyed him like he was an amusing toy, or maybe something for his engineer’s heart to pry apart and study the pieces of.

“It’s, um, a skull. But it’s faded pretty badly over the years. I use my hands a lot, so it kind of deteriorated quickly.”

Kestrel exhaled in amusement, and Niko watched as a stray blond strand took flight at the movement of air. “You… use your hands? A lot?”

He was getting stupid and flustered. “I—I—uh, my job—and—”

It was over as quickly as it began. Kestrel let go of his hands and took a step back. Niko still felt the ghostly echo of his touch as the warmth faded.

Kestrel eyed his armor up and down.

“Do you have more tattoos under there?”

Oh boy, Niko thought. That’s a hell of a loaded question.

“Yeah,” he commented neutrally. “I’m pretty inked up.” He couldn’t go there. He couldn’t afford to. He slowly drew his hands closer to himself, then reached for his gloves and fastened them back into place.

Kestrel took another few steps back. “Cleo always said to avoid men with tattoos. She said they’ll break your heart.”

Niko snorted. “Sounds personal.”

“It was. Are you a heartbreaker, Niko?”

He couldn’t go there.

He couldn’t let himself this time.

Niko stood. “Elliott. You need to listen to me. You can’t go after the chancellor tomorrow. They’re expecting you. They’re going to throw everything they have at you. It’s a dead end. This whole thing is a setup and they’re aiming to finish this. It’s a trap and they’re going to kill you. I’m going to have to be there. And I can’t let you go if they’re there.”

“Stop coming after me, Niko. Tell them you don”t want the bounty anymore.”

“Just let me talk to Zann. Please. He’s different. He’s like me—if people are being hurt, he’ll listen. If he agrees to open a real investigation into this, will you reconsider?”

“I am never going to stop until either Uru Taal or I are dead. Walk away from this, Niko. Go home. Just go home and live your life. You’re going to get hurt if you don’t.”

Niko went to Kestrel and took him gently by the shoulders. “Why? Why won’t you let me even try? Zann isn’t like the people who’ve let you down. You’re not listening to me either.”

Kestrel glanced away, his expression turning impassive. He was silent a moment before speaking. “Kaapra-19, Station Twelve. Right? That’s where he works from?”

“I— Yeah.”

“Niko.” Elliott spoke quietly, slowly. “Station Twelve was one of the ones I sent the files to. All of them. They have everything. They have for years.” Niko couldn’t breathe. The ground fell out beneath him, leaving him in a vertiginous freefall. He swallowed, trying to make sense of what Kestrel said, trying to pry it apart, find the holes in it.

“He— If he knew, then he’d have known exactly where to anticipate you every time.” Memories of arguing with his brother over the concert versus parade flashed through Niko’s mind. He’d been frustrated at the time, had felt unheard, untrusted. Yet in the end, he’d been the one in the right. The thought was irritating at the time, but now it only left him relieved.

“I don’t think even they know who all is a part of Honeybliss. Galapol is just another tool they pay off sometimes,” said Kestrel.

Zann couldn’t have known about any of that. Zann probably hadn’t been shown those files; he was busy working on other cases then. It probably would have been around when Niko had his accident, when they’d finally caught who’d killed their family. Just because Galapol had that information didn’t mean every individual who worked there did. He wouldn’t have had high enough clearance then, hadn’t been promoted yet—

Zann couldn’t have known. Not with what they’d gone through with their own family.

“No.” Niko shook his head. “He couldn’t have seen it. I know.” He wasn’t arguing any further. Zann was his best friend, his last remaining brother. They had been through the dark together, left to pick up the pieces of senseless violence. They had chosen to make a difference, side by side, to make sure it never happened to anyone else. As a team.

As brothers.

Zann wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t turn a blind eye to all of that.

Zann wouldn’t help Honeybliss.

“I want to try. Just let me try. Someone there must have seen them, but he didn’t. I’m going to show him these files.”

“Okay,” Kestrel said simply.

Niko didn’t know what was right anymore. It didn’t feel good to fight Kestrel on this. Not when he had been there himself. To continue on his path would only end in death, though. And Niko, despite everything he knew he had been hired under contract for, didn’t want Elliott Kestrel to die.

He couldn’t think anymore, his thoughts a jumbled tangle of intentions, feelings, needs and fears all roiling together. Niko moved towards the door.

Kestrel was there before him, blocking the way out. There was something a little wild to him now that he’d realized Niko was going. Something desperate.

“Leaving already?”

“We’re done talking.” Niko didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think about the implications talking led to.

“We don’t have to talk.”

Niko’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t go there.

Kestrel bored his gaze into Niko’s, alive and searching. Bright, feverish.

“We can fuck each other,” he said, voice low and liquid. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Elliott.”

He reached up and caressed Niko’s cheek. His touch was warm and electric, even more than when he’d held his hands. “Tell me how you like it. I’ll make it good for you.”

Niko took Kestrel’s wrist in a tight grip and pushed the other man back against the doorframe. Kestrel’s breath hitched.

Stop. The word was on his lips, on his tongue. He knew that he should say it, should put an end to this now. But Kestrel wasn’t the only one lost and alone.

“On Uula,” Niko said instead, “what was that?”

Kestrel was silent.

Niko tightened his grip. He was tired of games, of secrets. “Tell me what it was.”

“A diversion,” Kestrel said quietly.

Niko tilted his head forward until he was inches from Kestrel, sharing the other man’s air. Breathing his breath.

“Was that all it was? If it was, tell me. Say it.”

Kestrel hesitated.

“Say it, Elliott. If that’s all it ever was.”

“When I wrote ‘you can’t stop thinking about it,’” Kestrel said haltingly, “I think I was just talking to myself.”

“You couldn’t stop thinking about it?” Niko let his thumb wander along Kestrel’s wrist now, tracing the tendon there, the dusky veins.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” Kestrel said. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“And that picture?” Niko breathed, the memory of it burning through his mind. He wanted it again, wanted it even now: Kestrel bare and ready and perfect before him. He could do it so easily, could pull off the thin layer of clothing that was the only barrier between the conservatively dressed man before him and every memorized contour of that illicit photo.

“I wanted you to think of me too.”

Niko’s entire body was alight in agonizing fire, a desperate need and hunger clawing up out of the long drowsy depths. He wanted to fight it, but it was winning. And for the first time, Niko found himself tired of fighting. He leaned down to meet Kestrel, pressing his lips to the other man’s, sliding his tongue along his bottom lip. Kestrel was just as ravenous, pushing back into Niko, kissing him again and again, relentlessly.

Niko fumbled with unlatching his glove and reached out to touch him—anywhere, everywhere. At the ridiculous untamed cowlicks, at his regal cheekbone, his neck. His shoulder. He pushed the collar of Kestrel’s sweater down and stroked the lovely exposure of pale skin with his thumb. The fluttering pulse of Kestrel’s heart met his touch.

“I thought of you. I thought of you all the time,” Niko murmured into Kestrel’s ear. The scent of the other man’s hair made him high. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Elliott.”

Niko couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle the burning that flared through him now. It woke him up and brought his body to life with a terrible vibrancy he needed to answer.

There was nothing in the entire galaxy he wanted more than this.

Niko brushed his lips against Kestrel’s neck. He begged kisses along his throat until they turned into greedy licking and sucking at the delicate skin. Niko wanted to mark him, and the honey-dark thought of Kestrel wearing proof that Niko’s mouth had been on him beneath those black turtlenecks he wore seared hot through his mind. Kestrel moaned in response and tipped his head back, enthusiastically letting Niko help himself to it all. The vibration of his voice rippled against Niko’s mouth in a way that drove him nearly hysterical. He was beyond losing himself now. He was already lost.

A heavy and metallic snap rang out between them, loud against the quiet of the room. Niko froze in place, cool air flooding in now through the front of his suit. Kestrel’s hands had been just as greedy and wandering over his body too, and he hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t felt it through the thick armor plating at all. His clever engineer’s fingers had managed to seek out the latch to unfasten the chestpiece.

If he pried it any further from the rest of his suit, the neurotech that allowed Niko to walk would disable.

A chill settled over Niko as alarm and unease crept in. He felt, suddenly, vulnerable. Exposed in a way he wasn’t used to. He reached up instinctively and grabbed Kestrel’s hand to keep him from going further.

He couldn’t go there. This had been a mistake. It was worse than the alleys of Uula.

Niko thought about what this would lead to if he let it continue: being left without a way to walk, stranded on empty Sunorrna, a mile out from his ship. No chair, no suit if Kestrel so saw to take it from him. Letting himself be at his most vulnerable before someone who had used him before, had worked his deepest desires against him.

This wasn’t what he needed to be doing. If he let himself fall into Kestrel now, he could never go back. Zann would be waiting tomorrow at the station, to talk about how to kill or capture the man. In the end, this might just be another diversion after all. Kestrel’s last-ditch effort to buy time, keep Niko from being swept up in whatever was about to go down tomorrow.

Niko pulled away from him, quickly refastening the loosened chestpiece. It reconnected with another solid snap. He took a few uneasy steps back, still dazed and drunk but sobering.

“Why?” Kestrel said, slumping back against the doorframe. He reached up and touched absently at the blushing mark Niko had left on his neck before tugging the collar of his turtleneck up to cover it.

“I—I can’t, Elliott. We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I have to talk to Zann. We only have a day before they lay this trap, if you won’t reconsider. I have to get these files to him, talk to him. Let me help you, Elliott.”

“You were helping me,” he said flatly.

Niko flushed. “No. Not like that. Trust me. Please. Let me help you bring them to justice. He’ll listen. The others might not have, but he will.”

“Niko. I don’t want to stop killing them. I like it. Every creature in Honeybliss is already getting exactly the justice they deserve.”

Niko closed his eyes, not wanting to get caught in this fight again, this cyclical impasse. “I’m going to try anyway, Elliott. I have to.”

“Just go, then.”

“Elliott…” Niko tried to reach out for him. It was stupid, but he couldn’t help himself. It had become instinct to want to reach for Kestrel. The other man shrugged away from him, retreating further into the empty and silent apartment.

“Don’t.” Kestrel’s tone was descending from flat to outright vicious now, rough at its edges with disdain. Niko’s chest tightened at hearing it. It was Valaevanas all over again.

“Give me some time. I trust Zann. We can bring Honeybliss to light.”

“Then go do it,” Kestrel said. “See where it gets you. I hope your brother is everything you’ve built him up to be.”

The moment Niko was back in the So?adora, the door closed tight behind him, he patched a call through to Zann. He waited, desperate, as the ringing seemed to stretch on forever. Finally, Zann answered.

“Niko. What’s up?”

“Zann. I’ve been doing research and there’s more to this case than we thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“Honeybliss. It’s real. It’s a real thing. And the people who’ve become victims—”

“Niko. I told you. I don’t give a flying Toliai’s lumpy ass about that right now. I don’t give a shit about motives right now. I’m just ready to end this. We can interrogate him about motives later on, if he doesn’t eat a bullet tomorrow.”

Niko hissed in frustration. “You’re not listening to me, Zann. There’s a whole other dimension to this we aren’t seeing. Cleo Kestrel is dead, but Uru Taal killed her. There’s video evidence. All the targets so far have been trafficking thousands of people every year. They’re enslaving people. They’re—they’re raping them, and killing them to hide the evidence. They’re torturing people. The fucking chancellor of Neema is eating people—”

“How the fuck did you even find any of this out? Are you still at Saanas Park?”

“I— We’ll talk about that later. But this shit is legitimate. I have proof of every single one. Even Princess Vhee-vaala—”

“Niko, let’s talk about this after tomorrow. Right now, I have so much on my fucking plate. I need to focus on bringing down this asshole and then we’ll talk about whatever footage you have. Deal?”

“Zann. This is important—”

“We’ll talk about it. Okay? I promise you we will. Right now, I need your head in the game. We cannot afford to fuck this one up. He can’t get away again or I’m going to space myself. I am ready to be done.”

Niko wanted to throttle him through the phone. He paced back and forth, still in his armor. The ship felt too small. “Zann. I’m going to send you these files. Please take a look at them.”

“Fine.”

“These people— I— They deserve to die.”

Zann was silent.

“When I said it’s like Mom and Ryen all over again, I meant that in every way imaginable. I can’t even blame Kestrel for what he’s doing, now that I know this. Every part of this is some sick miscarriage of justice. And no one cares. It’s like what we did. This is just like what we did.”

“You shouldn’t say that over the phone,” Zann said slowly. “Electronic records, and all.”

“Fuck. I know. I just—”

“Niko. What do you want me to do about it?”

“We can launch an investigation—”

“That’s not what I’m asking here.”

Both men fell silent, only the soft background static of their call filling the void between them.

“What do you want me to do about it?” Zann asked again. “Should I tell my guys to back off? File a formal appeal? Should I tell them it’s okay, and that he’s cool because the renowned politicians and celebrities he’s knocking off are bad people?”

Niko was stunned. “I— What if we could work with him, somehow?”

“Do you think that’s even close to realistic, Niko? This is far beyond that. Whatever his motives, he’s gone too far. This isn’t like Mom and Ryen and what we did. We were careful. We covered our asses. He, instead, has just shit the galactic bed. I have one job—and that is to bring Elliott James Kestrel to justice. Whatever form that takes. Are you with me?”

Niko didn’t have words.

“Are you with me? If you’re not, you need to step down from this. I will pull you off the case.”

“I’m with you, Zann,” Niko said. He paused before asking what lay heavy and dark on his mind. “Did you know about this?”

“About what? That he’s out blowing the brains out of planetary leaders with complicated, ugly histories?”

“About Honeybliss.”

“I’ve heard a few rumors.”

“Rumors?”

“Yeah. That it’s some ‘big elite group’ conspiracy that might have a miniscule fraction of a chance of being real.”

“How much did you know?”

“I don’t know— Niko— I—I have so much on my plate right now—”

“Zann. Zann. Answer the question.”

“—but we’ll talk about it, okay? When this is finally over. We can launch an investigation—”

“You knew they existed. And what they did.”

“Yeah.” Zann’s voice was clipped. “Yeah, Niko. I did. Okay? I know they did some fucked up shit and I promise you we will look into that. After tomorrow.”

Niko sat down in stunned silence, his heart ripped out of him.

“We went into this to help people,” he murmured.

“Don’t do that to me, Niko. We did go into this to help people. We’re still helping people.”

“Did you know who’s in it? Did you know he’s been targeting only them?”

“No. No, Niko. I didn’t. I don’t know who the fuck is in it. How do you know any of this?”

“Black market exchange. Their terms were anonymity. I’m sorry.” He wondered if Zann even considered the flimsy lie a possibility.

“Fuck. Of course. Yeah.”

Niko fell quiet.

“Niko. We’ll talk about it. All of it. I promise you. Right now, we need to stop this first. Kestrel is not helping people. Regardless of his reasons, he cannot do this. He is breaking entire governments. Entire fucking planets, in some cases. He only ever dug his own grave and he dug it deep.”

Niko was at a loss for words. Zann was just as set on his path as Kestrel was.

He wasn’t going to listen. And even if he did, what could he do about it? In the end, Zann’s hands were tied. He’d been right when he said he couldn’t ask them to stop.

“Yeah. You’re right. It’s not the same, is it?” There was nothing else to say.

“No, Niko. It’s really not. Get some rest, okay? Focus on tomorrow. Then we’ll talk.”

He sent the files anyway.

He sent them just before going to bed once he’d gotten home. Zann would have all night and tomorrow morning to read and watch them—if it made any difference. Niko didn’t even know what he was asking of his brother anymore. Of course Galapol wouldn’t pardon Kestrel. Of course Zann had no power to even try asking that, even if he’d wanted to. Niko had told himself getting these files to Zann would be the first step towards bringing Honeybliss to justice, but what had he even tried arguing with his brother? It felt more like he’d been begging him to spare Kestrel himself.

That was what Niko wanted.

Icy unease crept through him when he thought about what lay ahead tomorrow.

He texted Zann. I hope when you see these, you’re reminded of the real people they’ve been hurting. It’s not just a rumor.

Once the files were sent, he found himself swiping again to the contact that had become so familiar. He wanted to text him, to call him. What would he even say at this point if he did?

I miss you. I want to talk to you. I hope you’re okay.

Or, Please don’t go. Reconsider this.

Or maybe, I’m sorry I left you alone on Sunorrna. I’m sorry we didn’t finish what we started. Was he still there? Or had he packed up his scant belongings and left on his own ship to prepare? What was Kestrel thinking? What was he doing? Niko hated how much he wanted to know.

Thinking of you, he found himself typing. He hesitated, then deleted it. After leaving him like he had, it was too impertinent. Too unkind. Even if it carried the weight of what sat heavy in his chest.

Instead he wrote, Goodnight, Elliott, and closed his eyes, not expecting a response.

He was startled from the edge of sleep by a ping.

Goodnight, Niko. Sweet dreams.