Lanis quickly showers, the muscle memory of her old hostel’s thirty second water allocation serving her well, 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 subtle nod to the Versk corporate colors, oddly similar to Fleet’s, though she doubts anyone will notice.

  She hears the door to Mirem’s apartment click open, the soft greeting of a deep voice, and a chuckle that drifts down the hallway. Lanis sets her face and takes a few meditative breaths, muttering a navigation mantra to calm the odd flutter in her chest. She could sense Mirem’s nervousness, and the occasion feels oddly precarious, like an unannounced visit from a head of state. Then she slips out of the bedroom, padding to the kitchen 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 well-practiced 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 had a chance to visit in some time.” His hand is warm and firm, and his entire demeanor breathes an easy competence and a familiarity with power.

  “Lanis,” Lanis replies, squeezing his hand back just as firmly. “A pleasure.”

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

  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.

  “Sure. Whiskey?”

  “Please. Neat,” Peter replies.

  Mirem pings her apartment control; the blinds slowly roll down over the tall 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 now slightly strained.

  “No bodyguards tonight. What I have to say is, unfortunately, for the two of you only,” he replies, moving across the invisible threshold from Mirem’s kitchen to the 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’s eyes narrow. “Is that a privacy field?”

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

  He places the device on the low table in front of Mirem’s couch, and then eases himself into the chair. Lanis hears a subtle buzzing in her ears as she moves to join Mirem on the couch across from him. Peter takes a sip of whiskey. When he sets the glass down, his smile is gone.

  “I know what you are,” he bluntly states, staring at Lanis. “And I don’t just mean Fleet.”

  Lanis tries to keep her face still. She 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 steadying breath in through his nose, and 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 takes another small sip of his drink, and begins.

  “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, great-great grandson to one of the founders. Michael is still in control of the company, but his son is being groomed to succeed him, especially after his health problems last year.” He grimaces, running his hands over his whiskey glass.

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

  “Part of this succession training means paying a personal visit to KR’s substantial industrial holdings in the colonies. Specifically, Phobos, Xuesen, and Etana Prime. It’s a rare privilege for a civilian to travel outside the system on a Fleet ship, afforded to only a select few each year.”

  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... it was… off.” Peter runs a hand across his jaw, frowning at the memory.

  “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 has felt 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 hell does that mean?” Mirem interjects, breaking the half-moment of heavy silence that follows these words.

  Peter spreads his hands. “He asked us to build a profile of every Navigator who’s on Terra or in orbit. Obviously, that information is incredibly classified; even KR is unable to access it. But he gave us your name, specifically. Said you’d be easy to find. Lanis.”

  Peter adjusts himself in his seat, the leather creaking. “I’ll give it to Fleet. They did a thorough job, keeping your history private within Admin’s systems. But it still didn’t take us long, once we had your name and knew where to look.”

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

  Peter shakes his head.

  “I’m overseeing the request. Which is unusual. I don’t know what Mirem has said about me, but I’m more… let’s say, 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. So, imagine my surprise when I found that you were here. Right under our noses. Staying with my niece.” He glances at Mirem. “Anyway, don’t say that family doesn’t count for something.”

  “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, though. Obviously I shouldn’t be here at all, except with an extraction team.” His voice takes on a new brittle edge. “I need to know what I’m dealing with, do you understand? Obviously any corp would be interested in somehow recruiting an ex Navigator, even a damaged one, but how does Alain know about you? And what the hell is wrong with him? The way he’s acting… he’s untouchable, of course, but he’s not the man I knew. I’ve been in corporate security for more than thirty years. I know when something is wrong. When I met with him in private it was like… like he had gone mad.” There’s a trace of fear now in Peter Seto’s voice, and Lanis can tell by the way he twists his mouth that it’s an unfamiliar, unwelcome sensation.

  “Tell him what you want Lanis, I’m going to pack our things. I’ll ping Versk security to let them know that we’re coming to the complex,” Mirem interjects, standing. Lanis is suddenly grateful that it’s become a not uncommon occurrence for her to come in at all hours of the night; Mirem’s presence and a packed bag might elicit a few questions, but they’ll at least have some time to think of an explanation for Renfol.

  Lanis hesitates for a moment, a glimmer of doubt tugging at her mind. What if Peter Seto is running some sort of operation? Or what if Michael Renalis’ newfound interest in Fleet Navigators is an innocent recruitment drive, his new oddness merely the result of interstellar travel and sleep deprivation?

  No. Horrifying as it is, a deep certainty of existential dread has gripped Lanis’ heart. Somehow, it’s here.

  The Anomaly.

  Lanis tries to steady the hammering of her heart. She feels like crying, or screaming, but instead she speaks, her voice only trembling slightly, Fleet confidentiality agreement be damned: “On my first jump, I encountered something in the Warp. Something that interrupted the jump. It... it killed our navigator, and almost the ship. I had to jump us back to Terra alone.”

  “Something? What do you mean?” Peter asks, his face hungry for any information he can use.

  “I don’t know! Something… hungry. Something that wanted to devour the ship, and us. I could… I could feel it, coming after me as I made the jump. There was an Androvan ship that got pulled in, too. Whatever it was, it tore their 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. Wouldn’t explain what had happened. Maybe they couldn’t. They simply called it an ‘Anomaly,’ said it was an isolated incident. Not like they would ever admit to anything else.”

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

  “Or infiltrating them,” Lanis says, her mouth dry. How many ships does Fleet possess? How many Warp jumps are there a day? Only they know. “You said that half the board went with him? And they’ve all been behaving strangely since they came back?” Lanis says.

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

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

  “I need to go. I have some Fleet contacts. Maybe they can help. Mirem is right to get you to Versk. You should be safe there, for now.” He nods to her absently, his mind clearly focused on his next step, like a chess player looking ten moves ahead. “Take care of yourself, Lanis. I’ll try to keep in touch.” He shakes his head.

  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.