Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Jupiter Jones was twenty, she fell in love. Of course, Jupiter Jones fell in love all the time: she fell in love with books, and stars, and the way satin slid across her skin when she brushed one of Katherine’s fancy pillows. But at twenty years old, Jupiter Jones fell in love with a person, a real human boy whose only flaw—in her mother’s eyes, at least—was his nose ring.

‘You’re the most beautiful girl in the world!’ He would grin at her, a gap between his teeth, and in a cruel twist of fate, it was another mugger with a gun in an alleyway that would take his life. Jupiter named their daughter after his favourite rock band, Greta Van Halen—and her father, Maximilian Jones.

Maxine Kiszka Jones’s life was a tragedy from the start. Like Jupiter, she was a baby born to an illegal immigrant and a murdered man with too many smiles. Jupiter, for the longest time after Maxine’s birth, genuinely thought she’d become her mother in all the worst ways. She was scared that she’d be unsmiling and serious—but it never happened, and unwittingly, she raised her baby without all the sad stories and grief that might have covered her heart in a layer of stone.

(Jupiter had fallen in love with a boy who died; she wasn’t her mother, who’d lost a husband. That was the difference between them both, and it made all the difference.)

‘Give me the little one,’ Uncle Vassily would gesture from the head of the table when she came in late with Max on her hip. Jupiter would roll her eyes and pass her over, ducking past Lyudmila and Nino to her seat at the table. It was a practiced piece of theatre. Dinnertime was one of the few times they were all together, and little Max—like her cousins before her—was passed around like a hot potato, licking gravy from fake aeroplanes and gumming on potatoes and beetroot slices. Jupiter would get her baby back with purple fingertips and a smile that became toothier as the months passed.

Of course, things weren’t all happy. Sometimes, Jupiter would pass her baby to Vassily—or Lyudmila, or Nino, or Aleksa—and slip away with an excuse of being tired, burrowing under her covers to try and forget the world existed. Sometimes, she’d notice that Vassily hadn’t paid her what she was used to, because she’d decided to look after Max at home because she was clingy or sick, and the money that wasn’t used on her daughter didn’t amount to anything tangible. Sometimes, Jupiter didn’t get a chance to feel normal, but that wasn’t exactly new, was it? Only this time, it wasn’t just because she was an illegal alien.

‘All I want,’ she’d mumble to her mother, knowing it was exactly how Aleksa had felt eighteen years prior, ‘is for her to be happy, and grow up well.’

Her mother would stroke her hair and murmur platitudes, saying ‘I know. I know.’ Aleksa never made Jupiter feel small, when it came to motherhood. Never. Not once. When Connor had died, she’d been so frightened of being disowned by her mother for bringing such a burden into their lives, but Aleksa had been patient and understanding. She asked if it was what Jupiter wanted, and Jupiter had said no, at first. Aleksa was with her when they looked up abortion clinics on the family computer, and she was there, a silent protector, when Jupiter asked for the day off for her appointment. And she’d been there when Jupiter bailed on the appointment and curled up in the bathtub instead, drowning in fear at the idea of losing something that was hers.

(That day had been a rollercoaster of events, with Nino overhearing about Jupiter’s pregnancy, and Vladie looking on in horror with Cheerios dripping down his front, yelling loud enough that the neighbours heard Jupiter was pregnant. The whole family found out in the space of ten minutes and Jupiter didn’t end up having a day off after all—but they got her a card the next day, and a pale turquoise blanket as a present for her unborn baby.)

In the end, Jupiter decided to keep Max, and name her Max. Aleksa had cried. Jupiter’s favourite time of day ended up being mealtimes, because she got to curl up with Max unrepentantly so she could eat, connected by flesh and milk. After ten months—ten!—spent sharing her body, she was reluctant to let Max leave her, and feeding time was special.

‘She’s just so wriggly,’ Katherine marvelled over her, her fondness for little Maxine Jones clear as she watched Jupiter wrangle said wriggler into her car-seat.

‘When she starts walking, I’m going to be in big trouble.’

Katherine snorted into her champagne, which Jupiter would have thought was a choice at ten in the morning, if not for the fact that she knew it was non-alcoholic. ‘Bet you she’ll get into all your shit.’

‘No bet,’ said Jupiter, finally clicking the toggles together. She tightened the straps a second later, smiling faintly at Max’s little kicks and hand-flaps. ‘Ready to go, baby?’

‘Oh god.’ Katherine downed her glass, then rushed into the driver’s seat. ‘Jupiter, I’m going to puke.’

‘You are not going to puke,’ Jupiter reiterated for the nth time. Closing the backseat, she joined Katherine in the front and assured her, ‘It’s just a little blood.’

‘And you’ll be there, right?’ Her friend chewed her lip anxiously, eyes flickering to the rearview mirror. ‘And Max will be alright in the back, won’t she? I’ve never driven with a kid before.’

Jupiter offered, ‘If it makes you feel better, neither have I.’

Shrilly, Katherine shook her head, then put the car in drive. ‘Funnily enough, it does not!’

The two young women ended up chatting the whole way to the blood drive. To Jupiter’s understanding, Katherine had been signed up by her girlfriend, Stacey—Katherine’s first girlfriend, to be specific, which was why Katherine was so afraid to tell Stacey no to anything, up to and including donating blood in a local blood drive organised by Stacey’s queer bar. Honestly, if Jupiter hadn’t already been aware you needed ID to donate blood, she would have signed up.

Katherine parked her Porsche near enough to the bar—almost right in front of it, in fact, on a double yellow line—that Jupiter felt comfortable leaving Max zonked out in the car. You didn’t get much more secure than a Porsche, and with the windows cracked and the expensive electric key in hand, Jupiter meandered ten feet across the sidewalk to join the line with her friend.

‘I can’t see Stacey,’ Katherine fretted, bracelets gleaming in the afternoon sun.

‘You’ll be fine—look, we’re next.’ Helpfully shoving Katherine inside, Jupiter rolled her eyes at her squeak. The bar itself had been cordoned off into a series of blood donation areas, some with curtains, but most without. Katherine muffled a whimper with her hands at a needle entering someone’s arm. Jupiter looked at the desk attendant. ‘Hi. Katherine Dunlevy. And non-donating friend.’

The attendant, a black man with a golden lip piercing that reminded Jupiter of Connor, smiled briefly and said, ‘We’ve had a lot of that. Is it the needles or the blood?—and just sign your name here.’

‘Needles,’ Katherine squeaked. Jupiter took the opportunity to write Katherine’s name in her stead, scrawling Katherine Dunlevy in blue ink.

‘I’m Earl,’ the attendant introduced himself belatedly, before reaching for a small box of plastic lavender rectangles, that to Jupiter’s eyes looked vaguely medical and not very blood donation-y. ‘We check people’s blood sugar before they give blood. This hurts more than the actual needle we use for donation, most of the time, and it’s less than a second. Do you want to give this a try? Maybe you could donate.’

‘Oh, no, I couldn’t-’ the blonde insisted, before Jupiter put her hand out.

‘It’s nothing. I’ll do it, then you can,’ Jupiter said, being as firm as she dared. Honestly, she thought impatiently, it can’t be that bad-

‘FUCK!’ Jupiter yelped at the piercing pain in her index finger, flapping her whole arm around in an attempt to stymy the burning sensation. Earl ducked in his chair. After a second, Jupiter looked at her finger in betrayal, which was welling profusely, droplets splattering across the paper forms on the desk where she’d signed Katherine’s name.

Katherine paled, then ran outside to be sick in a trash can.

‘Uh, sorry,’ said Earl, sheepish as he put the small purple needle into a nearby sharps bin.

Jupiter stuck her finger in her mouth. She garbled, ‘I’ve gotta go,’ then sprinted out of the blood bar.

(If there existed a headstone for Jupiter’s normal life, it would have said: here began the beginning of the end.)

Chapter Text

There was another universe where she wasn’t so confident, Jupiter guessed. Maybe that universe, she didn’t have to think for herself, and just spent all her time hating her life—but Jupiter multitasked in this universe, because she had to. Hating her life was a bad habit meant for the late evenings when she hadn’t gone to bed yet. Max needed better from her.

‘No way in hell,’ Jupiter scoffed at Vladie’s new scheme, elbowing him when he tried to block the door, laundry basket in hand. He yelped. ‘I’m not going to put my body parts on the black market so you can get rich quick.’

‘They’re only eggs—you don’t even have to do all the fertility treatment for it!’ Vladie tried, turning to follow her through the basement. ‘And it’s so much money, Jupe, you wouldn’t have to work for a year! Max could have so many more toys!’

Jupiter looked at her cousin like he was crazy, Max over her shoulder giggling at the pleading expression on Vladie’s face. ‘Again. No black market egg donations! Christ, Vladie—donate your own shit if you want money that badly.’

‘I donate my sperm,’ he argued, hands flying into the air. ‘It’s a hundred dollars a pop! Nothing like eggs. Fifteen thousand, Jupiter!’

‘Oh, and I’m sure you’d give me that entire lump sum,’ Jupiter said sarcastically,  walking up to the landing. Predictably, Vladie didn’t follow, far from eager to continue a conversation that would get him in shit with their relatives if they were overheard. Hmm, Jupiter thought, pausing as her great aunt Lyudmila’s singing in the kitchen became audible. Vladie had been bugging her recently… ‘Aunt Lyudmila,’ she called out, grinning as Vladie let out a panicked shriek, ‘Vladie is trying to make me sell my eggs!’

A clatter came from the kitchen, before Lyudmila’s exacting voice boomed through the house. ‘Vladimir Vasilov! What are you involved in now, you son of a whore? It had better not be gangs again!’

‘Spasibo, baba!’ Jupiter smiled as Vladie came running up the stairs, denying his involvement in gang-related activity. Max giggled and Jupiter hiked up her laundry basket, murmuring to her baby, ‘Auntie is scary, isn’t she? She’ll make cousin Vladie see straight, at least for a little while. Now, Mama’s going to put this laundry away, then we’ll go to see Hadley and Alex.’

Enjoying the relative freedom of her work-free Sunday, a day that not even Vassily could convince his mother to make them clean houses, Jupiter did as promised and put her laundry away before heading to the nearby park with Max, readjusting the sling to carry her supply satchel.

Jupiter admired her baby as she walked, stroking her dark curls. Unlike Jupiter and Aleksa, Max’s dark hair wasn’t pin-straight, instead more like Nino’s, and while Jupiter occasionally wished it was a bit more manageable, the effort was more than worth it when she could put cute bows and clips in to accessorise. It had always struck her how much Max looked like her, despite being paler like her grandmother; that is, she didn’t look a thing like Connor, who had been blonde and blue-eyed. For his sake, Jupiter hoped they smiled the same when they got older. Connor’s smiles had meant so much.

At the park, she was met with an empty playground. ‘Strange,’ she said mildly, checking her phone for any texts from Hadley, her only other “mom friend”. Hadley was pretty much always on time for these meetings.

The knock-off iPhone glitched once or twice before seemingly connecting, a bunch of texts from her aunt coming through with the days horoscopes—and, yeah, a text from Hadley apologising for not being able to make it. Jupiter sighed, looking down at Max in her sling.

‘Sorry baby, no Alex today.’ Jupiter toyed with playing in the grass for a bit and letting Max roll around, though to be honest, she’d rather not hang about the park without someone else there. They might live in a nice-ish neighbourhood, but crime existed and she couldn’t exactly go to the cops if anything went wrong.

Sighing, Jupiter sat down on a nearby bench and let herself enjoy the breeze for a while. Max took to the change eagerly, falling asleep in a snap. Hair falling around her face, Jupiter took in the suburban Chicago park and its many trees, the man standing beside one of the trunks, the primary-coloured playpark…

…the man standing beside one of the trunks…staring at her…

‘Shit,’ she muttered as they made eye-contact. Her instincts were screaming at her that something was wrong, and stupidly, Jupiter wondered if they were mistaken. Her hand rose. She waved.

WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU WAVE AT A STRANGER WHOSE STARING AT YOU?

At the wave, he visibly blinked a few times, then slowly waved back with a frown. Jupiter’s heart raced as he crossed the park, revealing his long coat and ass-kicking boots. Blonde and decidedly rough-looking, in the sense that he genuinely could and would fuck someone up, the stranger joined her on the bench, not hesitating in the slightest. Her only saving grace was how he didn’t sit next to her—or spare more than a single glance at Max in the sling.

He was also gorgeous. Like, insanely gorgeous.

‘…hi.’

‘Hi,’ he grumbled back. Silence fell. Jupiter looked back at the park, hearing him breathe deeply through his nose.

Is he going to kidnap me? Does he want Max? God, what if he’s a paedophile—did I just wave at a paedophile? Jupiter was afraid, but she also felt guilty for being afraid. What if he was just a guy? A guy who admittedly just stared at young mothers and their babies in playgrounds, but a guy, nonetheless.

‘What’s your name?’ She asked him, taking out her phone so she could…phone someone. Take a picture, maybe. Yeah, let’s take a picture. Swiping through her device, Jupiter got the camera app up and unrepentantly took a photo of the stranger, which he didn’t react to other than a slight glance in her direction. Then Jupiter saw the ears. Then it was her turn to stare.

‘…my name is Caine Wise. You should take your child home,’ he said. It was most definitely a warning of some kind, but not the kind Jupiter felt was a warning against her, but the kind that meant something is going to happen and you should get your baby safe. Jupiter nodded sharply, bobbing her head.

‘Alright, Mr Caine Wise,’ she replied, before standing abruptly, hugging Max with one arm and clutching her bag with another. A faint whirring started up in the background. ‘Your ears are really eye-catching. Uh, I mean, they’re pretty cool, though pretty unusual, too. Very pretty.’

Yeah, compliment the elf ears, Jupiter encouraged herself, like it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing she could say. Caine Wise shuffled a bit on the bench. It had embarrassed him. Fuck, I embarrassed him.

His brow furrowed, before his eyes went wide and he lunged at her.

Jupiter could only be happy that she was already holding onto Max as they were pushed to the ground, a BOOM reverberating through the air before a rush of heat enveloped her from the legs up. Her ears rang and Max- Max startled and started to cry. Caine Wise hauled her to her feet. Jupiter saw the bench they had just been sitting on, or rather she didn’t see the bench they had just been sitting on, because it was molten slag in a crater.

‘What the-’ Jupiter started, before Caine yoinked her into his arms and started running—skating?—away from the explosion site, and just in time, too, as another missile came from the sky and crashed down into the space they’d been standing in.

In reality, the next few minutes could be classified as a chase scene from an action movie, full of stark explosions, mind-bending physics and worst of all, destruction untold. But Jupiter didn’t see any of that, stuck trying to hold onto Max with one hand, two hands, no hands in more than one precarious situation, and Caine Wise led her through all of it. She was aching, bruised, and her centre of gravity was somewhere back in the neighbourhood alongside the corpse of Mrs Jenkins from eighth avenue.

Their pursuers were bounty hunters. One was a mechanised man with a silver prosthetic around his eye. Another was a woman on a space motorcycle, guns at the fore—and the third, who nearly got them, destroyed a convenience store they whizzed past on Caine’s hover-boots with a grenade that would have levelled the block, if not for the grey-skinned aliens that started appearing out of nowhere, fixing the damage they wrought.

‘They were after me,’ said Caine, as he smeared gel over a deep cut on her jaw, ‘because I’ll be going after who they think is the target.’

Wincing at the prickle, Jupiter asked, ‘Why? Who are they looking for? Wait—who they think is the target?’

They sat in a skyscraper, like squatters. Max’s cries had turned to whimpers hours ago, and she hadn’t stopped, not for love or money, and part of Jupiter was glad for it. A silent baby was a neon sign declaring something was wrong, especially after their rollercoaster-like hijinks. If she was making noise, then she was alive.

‘You,’ Caine told her, voice low. ‘You’re not Katherine Dunlevy.’

It seemed silly to have to introduce herself, after their day of mayhem. He’d told her that her world was a grain of sand in the wide, wide universe, and he didn’t even know her name. ‘No. My name is Jupiter. Jupiter Jones.’

‘Jupiter,’ he muttered, before the prickling feeling along her cut intensified into a burning sensation, flaring through her cheek. Jupiter cringed, matching Max’s whimpers.

‘I don’t think your space aloe vera is working-’

‘It’s working,’ Caine assured her, taking her hand when she went to wipe it with her sleeve. ‘I don’t have any high-quality RegenX with me, only the military-grade version. It’s…it’s complicated, but it’s encouraging your cells to heal. Rapidly.’

‘Is that why it’s warm?’

Caine pursed his lips. ‘I don’t know how it works. I’m not a scientist.’

‘My mom is a professor of mathematics,’ Jupiter told him, tentatively teaching, ‘and my aunt Nino is a chemist. I picked up a lot. Cellular regeneration would take a lot of energy. It’s probably what’s causes the heat.’

‘Hm,’ he nodded, and quiet fell, only broken by Max’s scared noises. Jupiter decided to finally do something about it and unwrapped her from her sling, shushing her gently when she screamed at the loss of contact. Caine immediately stepped back, making a point of seeing to his guns on the other side of the room. Jupiter was made aware that Max needed changing as he went, cringing at the smell that emanated from her diaper. Without looking, she knew her shirt was unsalvageable.

‘My bag…’ She glanced around, finding the shopping bag of supplies they’d grabbed from a nearby pharmacy. She refused to look at Caine as she tended to her daughter, feeling embarrassment of a kind. He saved you, Jupiter thought to herself, churlish. He’s hot. Get over it. Normal dudes might not know how babies work, but he’s from space… Jupiter snuck a glance at Caine.

Fuck, he keeps looking over.

She caught him twice more as she changed Max into a new onesie, one covered in polar bear heads. It had been half-price, probably because it was semi-Christmas themed, but she thought it looked adorable. Caine kept looking—and eventually, Jupiter realised it wasn’t in disgust, but in curiosity. Almost immediately post-realisation, Jupiter was swamped with Proud Mama Feels, almost giggling as they swelled in her chest like a balloon, changing her outlook.

Brushing the discarded diaper and clothes aside, wishing she had a spare shirt, Jupiter asked him, ‘You want to hold her?’ Her hands grabbed Max’s ankles before she could roll over onto the cement floor, keeping her secured on Caine’s futon.

Caine stiffened, tensing over the workbench. ‘Best not. I’ve…never held an infant.’

‘First time for everything. Come on over.’ Jupiter gestured to him, waiting until he—so very hesitantly—crouched beside them, then sat down on the floor. Without flinching, Jupiter handed her baby over, smiling when Caine cradled her automatically, lifting his arms higher so she had more contact with his chest.

At the new person, Max quieted, confused, but after a few seconds, she latched onto his shirt with one of her hands and stared up at him, dark eyes unblinking. Caine was likewise enraptured.

‘She’s just turned one. We have the same birthday.’ Jupiter reached over to take Max’s spare hand, grinning as her finger was clenched tightly. ‘At home, we call her Max, short for Maxine.’

‘Max,’ Caine repeated, whispering, ‘She’s tiny.’

‘Yeah, they’re like that.’ Jupiter toyed with Max’s hand for a bit, then took her own back, Caine shooting her a startled, almost betrayed glance as Max whimpered. ‘She’s had a long day. Dinner, then sleep, for her.’

‘You can’t go home,’ said Caine, worried.

I want to, Jupiter almost said. ‘I know,’ she instead replied, saying, ‘but there’s only one bed between the three of us. And those people will eventually figure out why you had me, instead of Katherine. Why were you after me, anyway? How did you find me?’

‘The blood,’ said Caine, tilting Max in an almost rocking motion when she started squirming. ‘I’m what’s called a lycantant—a human spliced with a lycan, a form of wolf. I tracked you from the blood splatters on Katherine’s signature.’

It dawned on her. ‘The blood drive. I thought those would have been discarded.’

‘Not well,’ said Caine. ‘The Keepers inspect any viable genetic samples they can acquire to document them, as a rule, and they kept the evidence secured when it got flagged. Part of my contract was to find and inspect the evidence, in my investigation. We’re lucky the other hunters weren’t scent trackers. They’ll have to rely on local planetary records.’

Her heart jumped at the word document, but Jupiter quickly eased as he continued. ‘They won’t find anything. I’m an illegal immigrant—my birth wasn’t registered in any country or port,’ she told him, gesturing to Max. ‘Neither is hers.’

Caine nodded shallowly, then said, ‘We have time. They’ll probably end up tracking me, instead, and I’m far easier to hunt down. If they alert my employer I’ve gone off-grid…’ There was something he wasn’t saying, but Jupiter didn’t have enough energy to pry, content at watching him rock her daughter in his arms. Was that what Connor would have been like, she wondered—would his presence have soothed Max easier than any lullaby?

Even Max sees the appeal, she thought, before asking him, ‘Why does your employer want me?’

Revealing they were both in the dark, Caine replied, ‘I don’t know.’

Chapter Text

If you were those bounty hunters, how would you track yourself down?

They only had Katherine’s name—so she would look at the security cameras dotted around the entrances to Katherine’s house. She’d naturally find the days where the Bolotnikov’s cleaned, or Jupiter on her lonesome visited, and match Jupiter’s face to that of the girl Caine had swung around with. Then, she’d track down Bolotnikov’s Best Russian Cleaning Services and search the official records, until she realised the employment records were woefully bereft from being staffed by illegal aliens and their green carded relatives, and just go straight to the source. The Bolotnikov household would then provide ample evidence of Jupiter’s existence, with the added bonus of providing hostages for her good behaviour.

We have to assume they’ve already gone back and found your family, but we can’t visit or have you call them. I know you want to tell them you’re alright, so how else could you get in contact with them?

Jupiter considered the question and immediately thought of her cousins. Vladie was the only viable candidate, as Mikka was still in high school and Moltka a child. Vladie also had enough shady contacts and had introduced Jupiter to enough of those shady contacts that she could easily pass a handwritten message through them, to Vladie, onto her mother.

The letter can assure them you’re safe. There’s nothing we can do to keep them safe, but what we can do is call the Aegis, who will get the hunters off-planet. But for that, we need a distraction.

The call he said they shouldn’t do, Jupiter thought. On Earth, you could change the location of signals all the time. Was there a space version of that? Could they send them to the other side of the Earth?

Not that far, but far enough. The Aegis can be here with a convoy ship in hours. Less than that, if they’re already nearby. They wouldn’t be able to bother your family on Earth without attracting the attention of the planet’s owner, and the Entitled never let things like that fly. We’d be able to get you somewhere safe in the meantime.

But where was safe, in the Verse?

I don’t know. I’ll figure it out, for you and Maxine.

Did he promise her that?

I promise, Jupiter Jones.

Jupiter believed him.

Avoiding security cameras was easy when taking into account how far Caine’s grav-boots could get them from the top of a skyscraper, but they wanted to avoid attention from anyone who had drones that could already get past the Legion-issue camouflage Caine was equipped with.

‘Leftover from before I was banished,’ he grunted, showing her how he shimmered and melted into the air. Maxine disappeared with him, where she was slung across his chest. ‘If I find a Keeper ship,’ he assured her when they reappeared, ‘I can get us to the nearest Marshall outpost without the bounty hunters knowing and use their receiver to fake the call we need to distract them from the Aegis appearing.’

‘And how do we get the Keeper ship?’ The Keepers were the grotesque grey aliens Jupiter had seen, responsible for guarding her world before its inevitable harvest; to keep the population growing and the systems of governance in disarray, so they presumably can’t access space travel, until whichever Entitled dared call themself the owner of her world decided it was ready to be annihilated.

The total worth of a planet is calculated in how much RegenX can be produced, Caine had explained to her, and it horrified her, because a planet—a whole planet—was readily sacrificed for some miracle cure. What about the humans afterwards? What happened to them, when their world was stripped of its resources to give their distant alien cousins their cure-all?

Caine hadn’t answered her.

‘The Marshall will have a location,’ he said, ignoring the fact that they needed to ship to get to the outpost. Jupiter raised her eyebrow at him. Caine winced, then said, ‘I can get the ship.’

It took a second to process what that meant.

‘Oh, like hell are you leaving us here!’ Jupiter clenched her fists, then became alarmed when he took a step closer to the window with Max. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘You can’t risk leaving without getting spotted,’ he corrected her, ‘and this way, Maxine is safe.’

‘She’s safe with me!’

‘If the hunters see her with me going to the Marshalls, they’re assuming I’m arranging for her return home. And she represents something, if I’m the one bringing her to the Marshall,’ Caine almost squirmed where he was standing, like he’d said something shameful, and Jupiter was speechless. Caine rightfully took her silence as a question. ‘She’d be leverage, but also a promise on my part that I’d be borrowing the Keeper ship as sworn. That I had an oath to keep, and I needed them to trust me.’

‘You want to use my daughter,’ Jupiter raged, dots connecting in her mind. She accused him, ‘You know the Marshall, don’t you? They don’t trust you.’

‘He took the fall for me when I committed the crime that had me dishonourably discharged from the Legion,’ said Caine, ‘and it got him stripped of his wings and banished here. But he’s a good man, Jupiter.’

‘Not good enough to trust with Max,’ she declared. She stepped forwards, reaching for Max, snapping, ‘Give her to me.’

He shook his head, insisting, ‘This is the only way to keep both of you safe. Stay here.’ And then the fucking bastard used a space doo-dah on the window, creating a door to fly through. Jupiter staggered forwards, reaching for nothing. She didn’t have grav-boots. She couldn’t fly after him as he kidnapped her daughter.

‘No,’ she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. ‘No, no, no…Max.’

Jupiter waited hours for him to return, curling up on the futon, scared out of her mind. Max needed her. Max was just a baby—she needed her mother. The sun set, she changed into one of Caine’s spare shirts because the smell of her own was making everything worse, and Jupiter stayed scared. And angry. She stayed scared and so, so angry. It made her slam her hand on the floor, caused her to weep, and all through it, she didn’t dare leave the skyscraper or go closer to the windows, in case the bounty hunters saw and decided to kidnap her anyway. Never had she felt so helpless.

‘Connor,’ she promised the thin air, pretending that his ghost existed—that it could hear her and offer her moral support—‘I’ll get her back. I’ll see her soon. Caine will come back with a Keeper ship, and- and we’ll go get her. I’ll see her again. I’ll kiss her and hug her and never let her leave my sight ever again. And I’ll smack Caine,’ Jupiter nodded firmly, imagining the amount of force she’d have to put into her slap to make Caine understand the depth of her feelings. Connor would pat her on the back, she thought. Probably. She couldn’t really remember much about his personality anymore.

At some point, Jupiter fell asleep. The dark of the city, even with all the lights below  and the orange glow above, did much to lull her into complacency. She was exhausted. But she was still a mother, even if her baby had been kidnapped by Space Wolfman, and the thrumming of an engine woke her.

‘…fuck,’ Jupiter whispered, before scrambling to her feet and grabbing one of the guns Caine had left behind. She didn’t know if there was a safety on it or something—and was she so glad Vladie thought gun-running was a good idea so she knew that kind of thing existed—but when she clicked a button on the top, it hummed to life. ‘Yes!’ she hissed, triumphant.

Around her, the engine thrum quietened slightly, like a car put into park, so Jupiter crouched beside the table, behind one of the boxes, giving herself cover on both sides. Window and door, she thought, eyes flickering between the two. Her hypervigilance, like her curiosity, was rewarded when she saw a flicker of movement by the door.

The kickback of the gun shook her to the bone.

‘Miss Jones!’ A voice came, before a man dodged the shot, hands up. He looked fully human at first glance, but another space gun was in his hand, so Jupiter tried to fire again—only this time, it didn’t work. She clicked the safety. The gun hummed again. The man repeated, ‘Miss Jones-’

PYOW!

Another shot sunk into the wall, the man barely needing to dodge at all. He swore under his breath, then said, ‘Caine Wise sent me! My name is Marshall Stinger Apini, I’m his former Legion Commander.’

Jupiter hesitated, then clicked the safety off again. ‘How do I know you aren’t a hunter, huh? Where are you going to take me?’

‘In the Keeper ship, just like Caine planned, to my home,’ he assured her, slowly lowering his hands to put his gun away. ‘Now, come on. That shot was basically a flare to anyone looking.’

‘Caine took something of mine,’ Jupiter said, getting ready to bolt if he answered wrong. ‘What was it?’

The man—Stinger—smiled faintly, teeth visible in the low light, ‘Maxine Kiszka Jones. Max, to family.’

From behind the box, Jupiter hesitantly stood, asking, ‘Is she alright?’

‘Out like a light, last time I checked. We gave her some warm honey and milk. Always worked the best with my girl, when she needed calming down,’ said Stinger, stepping forwards. ‘Truly, she’s doing fine. Caine’s taking good care of her.’

Oh. Jupiter dropped her arm, belatedly putting the safety back on before carefully putting it on the table. ‘Good,’ she whispered, feeling shaken still at the idea of Max being away from her. But if Caine was taking care of her… ‘Okay, what now?’

‘Now we go to the ship,’ Stinger instructed, looking at her with strange eyes. When she came into step with him, wondering if he had x-ray vision, he said off-handedly, ‘There’s something about you. For a Tersie, you don’t…seem like one. Just like your little girl.’

‘Maybe that’s why Caine’s employer wants me.’

‘Maybe,’ Stinger agreed, before leading her to the skyscraper stairwell. Together, they went up to the roof, where a sleek spacecraft was parked. Jupiter looked at it in awe as Stinger helped her climb up, apologising that she’d have to sit so close to him.

‘It’s fine,’ she said when he explained, though she bit her lip when the time came to wrap her arms around his waist, sat astride a curved beam clearly meant for one person. Considering the shape of the Keepers, she had to wonder if the seat was supposed to be tilted up so they could lie flat—though she was somewhat distracted by the way his torso felt, and how flush her chest was to his spine.

Stinger powered up the camouflage. ‘Here we go,’ he said, his voice causing a full-body vibration to run through his back, into Jupiter. She shivered as they took off, then gasped when the Chicago skyline came into view.

‘Oh my god,’ she whispered.

‘Humanity.’ Stinger said, turning the ship east. ‘There’s always beauty and destruction combined in industrialism, though this early, you’ve not quite lost all your natural habitat. Count yourself lucky you grew up on a green planet, Miss Jones. There’s plenty of worlds made from metal and oxy-factories, and not much else.’

‘It’s hard to believe the Entitled want to destroy it,’ Jupiter said, before Stinger sped the ship up, muscles rolling with the clench of his arms.

‘Humans pop up everywhere. We’re so far travelled that it’s hard not to. Even our enemies are human. One world doesn’t mean much, compared to the entire Verse.’

Jupiter felt wrath at his statement. ‘Caine said,’ she muttered, terse. Like the lycantant, Stinger Apini fell quiet under questioning. Jupiter wondered if they cared at all, or if they just lied to themselves, trying not to weigh pennies against gold bars. Well, Aleksa Jones had raised Jupiter right. She would never look away. After all, without the pennies, the gold bars were worth nothing.

Without planets like Earth, the lauded Verse was meaningless.

What is it made of? Jupiter thought furiously. Platinum? Chlorophyll? It has to be a natural resource, but something that humanity can’t do without. If humans reaching their planet’s maximum population density is the trigger, then it must be something that would vanish if we weren’t there.

Sometimes, Jupiter wished she wasn’t undocumented. Sometimes, she wished she could have gone to school instead of learning from her relatives and copying whatever homework Mikka was given. Then, maybe she might have gotten a real education that she could have been proud of, that might have informed her choices better and gave her insight into stupid space business. Because that’s what it all was. Business. Her life in America, perhaps because of her inequalities rather than despite them, had taught her the meaning of capitalism—and frankly, RegenX stank of it.

In the Keeper ship, it didn’t take long to reach Stinger’s home. The stars were still out. Max, when she was shown the guest room where she was sleeping in an old crib, was oblivious to her mother’s return.

Caine looked like he would have let her slap him, but Jupiter didn’t end up giving into her urge to do so.

‘You should have talked to me about it,’ she said, refusing to cry in front of him. Caine stood in front of her, so close he had to tilt his head down to meet her eyes. Jupiter swallowed the thick lump in her throat. ‘I was terrified. Please, don’t ever do that again.’

‘I’m sorry. You-’ Caine stopped, then put a hand to her cheek, startling her. ‘You’re not like the targets I used to hunt. You aren’t a murderer, or a criminal. I already gave up on my mission when I decided to protect you, rather than hand you over, and I should have approached that with you, instead of for you.’

‘Just don’t do it again,’ Jupiter pleaded.

The man shook his head. ‘I can’t, I can’t—you don’t understand, there’s something in me that is driving me to keep you out of harms way, no matter the cost. Your life is important.’

Jupiter felt her voice crack as she joked weakly, ‘Stop, you’ll make me swoon.’ Sniffling, she let Caine wipe at the tear in the corner of her eye, before trying for a third and final time. ‘I need you to promise, Caine. Don’t take my daughter away from me, not without my consent. I’m all she has. She’s the only thing in this universe that is mine.’

For a long moment, Caine thought over what she was asking. She could see it in his eyes as he weighed her words and his options, before being won over. It seemed so natural to embrace—for him to hold her head to his chest, and for her to wrap him in a hug that screamed without words, I forgive you, I forgive you.

‘I promise,’ he said quietly, chin resting on the top of her head.

Like his last promise, Jupiter believed him without a single doubt.

Chapter Text

When Jupiter fell in love, she had done so drunk out of her mind, in a stolen dress. Jupiter had seen it in a designer shop, made in all black lace, with no arms and a push-up bra that promised to torture her ribcage. She loved it. Jupiter had tried it on, pretended not to like it to put on the rack outside the changing rooms, then made a show of checking out the other dresses in disappointment before stuffing another one into her purse.

At a club later that night with one of Vladie’s fake IDs meant exactly for this, she’d stumbled across Connor below the DJ booth. His hair had been out around his shoulders, pupils blown from street ecstasy. One spilled drink had made her night. They’d fucked unrepentantly in an alleyway—because shamelessly, drunk Jupiter was always fucking horny and made no secret about it in front of guys she liked—and he’d written his number in sharpie on her arm. Vladie had almost pissed himself laughing the next day when she staggered home from work after no sleep the next evening. He’d texted Connor at the dinner table and gave him Jupiter’s number, not knowing all his teasing would be summarily ignored and forgotten, as Jupiter fell head over heels for what she would, at the time, claim was the love of her life.

Babies changed things. Any mother would tell you that.

Jupiter, of course, was still the same person, even if she would make different choices now. So the next morning, when Max started waking up and made sounds to that effect, she could probably be forgiven for finding it hot when Caine stood up from where he’d been lying on top of the sheets to check on her. Jupiter’s eyes were only half-open, but she could see well enough when her newest man-crush decided to pick up her daughter and charm her into compliance.

What she could probably not be forgiven for was muttering the words, ‘So hot’, right where he could overhear. And he did overhear. His glance at her when she spoke was undeniable.

Jupiter buried her face in the pillow.

‘Thanks,’ he remarked. Jupiter peeked over again. Caine smirked, then deliberately moved into a sunbeam that lit up his bare chest. Ohhhhhhhh, Jupiter hid her face in the pillow again at hot-man-with-a-baby goodness. It was the sight of skin. Jupiter had a problem with bare skin. She always wanted to touch it.

That being said…I wonder what gets him going? Thinking furiously, she adjusted her grip on the pillow, then registered the fact that she was wearing yesterdays clothes. Not only that, but that she was wearing the shirt she borrowed. His shirt.

Jupiter smiled.

Discarding the pillow, the young woman sat up slowly, raising her arms high and getting in a few genuine stretches in. She grinned toothily when she saw him staring, flashing him a wink.

‘Like seeing me in your shirt, Caine Wise?’

He didn’t blink twice. ‘As much as I like seeing you in my bed, Jupiter Jones.’ Flushing, Jupiter pursed her lips, then melted again when she saw Max doing her own little stretches, yawning quietly. Climbing out of bed—belatedly registering the buzzing of bees, and god, were they loud—Jupiter padded across the wooden floor to where he stood, peeling Max out of his arms. Her baby girl eagerly hugged her mother around the neck as Jupiter got her first morning snuggle in, kissing her head.

‘Morning, baby,’ she kissed her again, then looked to Caine, repeating herself in a different form, ‘Morning, baby.’

‘Tease,’ he accused her, to which Jupiter quipped.

‘Still wearing your shirt. You’re welcome to take it off me.’

To her astonishment, Caine actually stepped closer to her, hand finding the gap between her jeans and her t-shirt. He slipped it across her skin, hot against bare flesh.

‘Not sure Max would be very impressed.’

‘Max has to have breakfast,’ Jupiter argued breathlessly, struggling to speak, ‘She’ll sleep for another hour, after.’

Caine’s eyes darkened. ‘Do you promise?’

‘If you get me coffee,’ Jupiter bargained, watching with bated breath as he drew closer. Maybe it was all the life-saving, and the subsequent fight and forgiveness—but she eagerly welcomed the kiss when it came. She was crusty-eyed, holding her baby from another man, and now she knew for sure that Caine was a damn good kisser. And he thought she was a MILF.

Eventually—somehow—she tore herself away and demanded, ‘Coffee.’

Caine grinned. ‘Coming right up. I’ll make sure Stinger doesn’t bother us.’

Jupiter managed to nod at the reminder of whose house they were guests in, but the moment Caine shut the door on his way out, she made her way back to the bed, getting rid of her shirt, and then her bra for good measure. After over twenty-four hours, it was amazing to be rid of it.

Her hair was thrown up into a makeshift bun to avoid any stray grabbing. Max didn’t even need to open her eyes to know it was breakfast time when Jupiter manoeuvred her to her chest, latching on with aplomb. Jupiter briefly felt guilty that she’d missed out yesterday evening, used to waking up for a midnight feed, but remembered what Stinger said about milk and honey. Speaking of honey, she thought, blinking in surprise as a bee settled on her bent knee, calmly walking along the highest curve.

There was more than one bee in the room, actually. Jupiter slowly became aware of more and more bees as she looked around, trying not to be alarmed by the hive she saw nesting just outside the window, that’s blinds weren’t quite shut. There was a massive swarm of bees just outside her window.

‘It’s fine,’ she whispered to herself, before gently dislodging the bee from her knee, thanking God that it flew off. Silently wishing for no more bees to land on her—and Mary, Jesus and Joseph, did she not want the fucking bees to land on her—Jupiter focused on Max, checking her hands and face for any bee stings.

Caine came back with her requested coffee when Max switched to her other nipple, seating himself on the other end of the bed. Jupiter shrugged when he silently gestured in question if it was okay to watch, sipping the mug gratefully. When Max was more asleep than feeding, Jupiter carefully unlatched her daughter, burped her, and delivered her back to the cot, smiling slightly at the honeycomb engravings.

‘Is Stinger a splice, too?’ Jupiter asked, just above a whisper. When Max didn’t stir, she guessed they have about forty minutes.

Caine rumbled at the same volume, ‘A bee splice. Good pilots.’ When she turned around, he was facing her, removing his boots. She blinked rapidly.

‘Did you take those off at all, last night?’

He shook his head, but when he started taking off his shirt, Jupiter took it as her cue to fully undress, shimmying out of her jeans. She rightfully thought Caine might want to help with her panties, grinning as he pulled them down her thighs.

Caine, she found, didn’t look at her like anything but something beautiful, where she suspected Connor might have, post-pregnancy. He traced her stretch marks from Max in curiosity, only avoiding her breasts because she asked him to. When he kissed her, it was with restrained strength—and Jupiter knew it, because when he pressed her into the bed with his hips and made her gasp into his mouth, with his hands around her wrists where they were pressed into the mattress above her head, she felt the edge of pain beneath him. Jupiter unexpectedly revelled in it, not that she told him that.

It wasn’t the time for conversation.

They used their forty minutes well, that was for sure, and Caine’s blush when Max awoke was adorable. He certainly rushed to put his clothes back on before she could see.

‘Just a one-year old,’ Jupiter reminded him, fully nude. ‘She won’t remember.’ Still, she used him as a perfect distraction when he was dressed to clean herself up in the adjoining jack-and-jill bathroom, showering and dressing herself. A fresh set of underwear in her size were miraculously found under the mirror, along with a towel, and a small injector with a post-it declaring it a translator, plus instructions on where to inject.

Hesitantly, she followed the instructions, and with a jab, a small circular disk was neatly tucked behind her ear. It didn’t seem to do anything. The Jones inspected her otherwise blemish-free neck with something burgeoning on disappointment, noting that the scar she’d expected on her jaw was non-existent after the burn of Caine’s military-grade RegenX. She had noticed more than once how Caine shied away from her jugular during their little tryst. The lack of hickies could be remedied in the future, she hoped. She was actually a little surprised his beard hadn’t caused any sort of rash, though it had been sinfully soft.

From the other bedroom bordering the bathroom, there came a knock. ‘Hello?’ A female voice called out. ‘Is that Maxine’s mother?’

‘Hi! Yeah, that’s me,’ Jupiter made sure her jeans were on properly, then unlocked the door to reveal a young blonde, maybe only a little older than herself. ‘Sorry for monopolising the bathroom.’

‘No bother,’ said the woman, smirking as she leant on the doorjamb. ‘How was Caine?’

‘I have a feeling you mean in bed,’ Jupiter squashed her embarrassment to allow herself to have some girl-talk. ‘Very nice. Max didn’t even wake up halfway through, so no interruptions, either.’

‘Cool. Must be difficult to get laid with a baby in tow.’

Jupiter rolled her eyes. ‘You have no idea—Caine’s so sweet with her, though. I’m Jupiter, by the way.’ She put out her hand to shake, which the blonde took casually.

‘Kiza Apini.’

‘Oh cool—Max’s middle name is Kiszka.’

‘So close.’

‘Yet so far.’

Both women grinned, Kiza’s ponytail bouncing as she pronounced, ‘We’re going to be great friends, Jupiter.’

Jupiter offered, ‘Call me Jupe?’

‘Nice to meet you, Jupe,’ Kiza said, then sashayed in place. ‘Now, I really need my bathroom back, sorry to say. Dad is also really interested in getting your take on the bounty hunter situation.’

‘We’ll go see him,’ Jupiter confirmed, before returning to her side of the jack-and-jill with a wave. Kiza waved back.

On the bed, Max holding onto the ends of his pointy ears, Caine looked at Jupiter helplessly. Bursting into laughter, she came to help extract him.

‘Are you alright? Max—Maxine, let go of Caine’s ears. He needs them back, baby.’

‘She’s strong,’ Caine grunted as one ear was released.

Jupiter stifled her laughter, faking triteness, ‘I’m so sorry, she’s just curious.’ She nearly lost it, however, when Max’s hand escaped and she immediately tried to grab Caine’s ears again.

‘EEEEEEEEH!’ Her daughter screeched, which Jupiter decided not to consider a first word, as she was looking directly at Caine’s nose as she said it. Without intent, the first word did not exist, or so said her mother, who constantly denied that Nino was Jupiter’s first word. According to her aunt, it was closer to nee-naw, but Aleksa was adamant: Jupiter’s first word was baba. There was a reason, after all, that Lyudmila liked Jupiter the best—and it wasn’t because Uncle Vassily’s children were useless.

Naturally, Aunt Irina sided with Nino.

‘Stinger wants to see us,’ she told Caine as she went for a different strategy, tickling Max under her armpits. The immediate writhing was too much for Caine to handle, but Jupiter was a professional Max wrangler, and she swooped her baby girl up and spun her around once, twice, noticing the pretty pigtails at the base of her neck.

Caine’s voice was tight as he watched them. ‘I heard.’

‘Kiza’s nice,’ she commented, noting the clean diaper on Max, as well. A glance around the room and saw supplies that weren’t there last night. Jupiter decided to take the small win, there, and slid Max onto her hip. ‘We going?’

With Caine’s assent, he led them downstairs into a literal hive of activity. The guest room, apparently, was the only semi-bee free area, honeycomb in every high corner and nook. The shelves were full of giant honey jars, and Jupiter swore she saw a literal crate of wax—just plain wax, not even shaped into candles. Just wax.

Stinger, in the kitchen, offered them each a plate of toast. ‘I have butter,’ he said, but Jupiter declined, more interested in keeping Max occupied with a piece of bread than a mess waiting to happen. Stinger naturally didn’t mention that Caine had been down earlier in the day, either.

Over breakfast, they discussed the hunters. While she was sleeping, they had taken the liberty of preparing the technology used to scramble a phone signal, just waiting for a recording of her voice and whatever she’d like to say to her family, to assure them of her safety.

Humbled by the swiftness of arrangements, Jupiter promised to do it after breakfast, babbling on about the fake Las Vegas wedding she was going to be fake having with a fake stranger, before discussing their next steps.

Stinger and Caine exchanged a look. ‘The Aegis probably aren’t your best option,’ Stinger eventually said reluctantly. ‘I reminded Caine last night, but the Aegis that patrol sectors as valuable as this tend to be in the pocket of whichever Entitled owns the system. The ones we’d want would be the reserve force, who respond to emergencies and have a little more backbone. Caine is used to dealing with that branch of Aegis, considering his past as a Legionnaire and criminal. In all honesty, Miss Jones, there are very few ways to keep yourself from being taken to whomever is looking for you.’

Over the sink, Jupiter noticed bees starting to swarm by the open window and clutched Max tighter. Caine, seeing her agitation, shut it not two seconds later so smoothly that Jupiter wasn’t even sure Stinger had seen why.

‘What should I do instead?’ she asked him.

Stinger leant back in his chair, grim as he raised two toned arms in a lock behind his head. ‘You have a daughter. She’s your most valuable asset, quite literally, Jupiter. Out there, rules exist about interacting with different classes. They’re not being followed. So...we change things. I’d get a Will sorted out first, in case these other bounty hunters are working for Entitled, like Caine—though as a Tersie, we might have to engage in a bit of subterfuge. You don’t exist in the Intergalactic Commonwealth, except as a Class Four Protected Citizen.’

Jupiter furrowed her brow. ‘Protected Citizen?’

‘Belonging to a harvestable planet automatically entitles you to a Protection Order, due to being under the jurisdiction of a Class One Entitled Citizen. The next orders are Class Two Common Citizen and Class Three Levied Citizen. If—and this is a big if—you can prove you’ve lived off-planet in the Verse for a significant amount of time,’ Stinger said, pointing at her, ‘you can apply for guaranteed Class Two Citizenship.’

‘But I’ve not been living off-planet,’ Jupiter replied, heart sinking. Stinger talked like getting kidnapped was a certainty.

‘Well…’ Stinger looked to Caine, clearly warning him not to react, ‘There is a way. It would involve claiming your daughter was already entitled to her Class Two Citizenship.’

‘…oh shit,’ she muttered, knowing exactly what he was talking about. Birthright citizenship wasn’t limited to Earth, it seemed. Glancing at Caine, she flushed and awkwardly asked him, ‘You couldn’t pretend, could you?’

‘No,’ Caine said, in a more final way than she expected. ‘Splices are Class Three, unless we buy or work off our Maker’s Contract and other debts. I served my time in the Legion, but I’m not done.’

‘Caine was still a Verse Levy in the Legion,’ Stinger said, as if that explained anything. He smiled at Jupiter almost pityingly. ‘And he was banished to the Bad Land before you would have been pregnant. Much like here, a criminal record of that level disqualifies his progeny from getting automatic citizenship.’

Deeply embarrassed—and reminded like a slap to the face exactly how long she’d known Caine—Jupiter sank in her seat, taking the knife out of Max’s hand when she grabbed it from her place setting.

‘Then who?’ she asked, miserable. Stinger and Kiza were the only other aliens she knew-

Jupiter paused. Despite being on opposite sides of the table, Stinger and Caine were refusing to look at each other. Jupiter pointed the breadknife at Stinger incredulously, ‘Were you offering?’ She gaped.

Stinger blushed. ‘I don’t mean to insult you, but there are benefits. If anything happened, at the very least your daughter could come back to Earth, and I’m close enough to Chicago to pretend I have custody, if anyone asks. Caine gave me your family’s location yesterday.’

‘Wouldn’t- wouldn’t there be a DNA test?’ Jupiter queried, not sure why she was still pursuing that line of conversation. He was her type, if a little older—but he didn’t look anything like Max, not enough for a test to seem unnecessary.

‘Not in this case,’ argued Stinger, conversational as he shrugged and said, ‘Splices find donors all the time. We’re not always genetically compatible with our chosen life partners. Some splices are too modified to have children at all. Entitled are like that too, mind, but their riches allow them to design their offspring however they wish, regardless of blood ties.’

The whole conversation made Jupiter want to die. ‘Alright,’ she said weakly, refusing to look at Caine. ‘If it helps Max. She doesn’t have to change her name or anything, right?’

Stinger shook his head. ‘Not at all.’ He stood, brushing off his shirt of toast crumbs. ‘I’ll go make up the sheeves. We can fake a comp-tech mishap, but I’ll need your signature on Maxine’s birth announcement before I backdate it all, and then you should be able to go to Orous and claim citizenship at the Commonwealth Ministry.’

‘I still have to go there?’

Grimmer than before—but still with that queer look in his eye when he looked at her, the one that made her feel seen underneath all her skin—the bee splice assured her, ‘It could be worse, Miss Jones. Caine was once like family to me, and you’re a good woman. Your daughter deserves the best you can give her. While it isn’t the best method, it’s certainly serviceable, as far as getting your citizenship goes.’

‘And what about the Entitled?’ Caine finally spoke up, hard gaze remaining stuck on the table until that moment. He looked at Stinger with white-knuckled fists. ‘They’ll know better than to believe it.’

Stinger’s voice hardened. ‘Yes. But the Entitled are like the rest of us—they have to follow the rules. Even if they know it’s untrue. Especially if they know it’s untrue. The Entitled who hired you was already stepping out of line by sending you to this planet, and if a little Tersie who didn’t know about the Verse managed to get themselves even the smallest measure of protection after that stunt yesterday, then you bet they’ll respect it long enough for Jupiter to find out what’s going on. Wise—we are playing for time here, time to figure this out and for Jupiter to get a footing that isn’t going to have her memory wiped and put right back in danger.’ Stinger laughed, then gestured at the lycantant. ‘I hope you used protection. You never know what can happen in the Verse such as this.’

A rumbling growl ripped out of Caine’s throat, so loud and startling that it wasn’t just Max who yelped. Caine immediately shut up at the sound of distress, looking first to Jupiter, and then worriedly to Max, whose eyes fluttered open and closed as they filled with tears.

Damage control.

‘Did you hear Caine growling?’ Jupiter faked a funny voice well enough to fool her daughter, grinning at her, despite her own low mood. Max sniffled, looking to Caine, who was still wide-eyed, silent and useless. Jupiter repeated herself, ‘Did you hear Caine growling, baby? Like a wolf, going awoo. Can you make a wolf noise too, Max?’

Her eyes still glistened, but Max was rapidly becoming more excited at the conversation change. She bounced on Jupiter’s lap, making a wuh noise that could be taken as an awoo if you were proficient in babytalk.

‘Awoo,’ said Caine after a moment, remarkably human. Max copied him with her wuh noises, over and over, and Caine did it again. Across the table, Stinger shook his head, then nodded meaningfully to Jupiter as he slipped away.

Caine and Max continued pretending to be wolves.

Chapter Text

Kiza hauled the tarpaulin away, revealing a dusty brown vehicle that looked more like an origami tortoise than a spaceship. ‘I’ve not made a trip to Orous in years, but she’s still space-worthy.’ She glanced at Jupiter, winking. ‘Only the best for my little sister.’

Rolling her eyes, Jupiter nevertheless felt the heat rising in her cheeks as she looked to Caine for approval. ‘Good enough?’

Her self-appointed bodyguard grunted an affirmative, eyes scanning the ship lines, lingering on what had to be the space version of wings and propellers. Max made a noise of delight in his arms, clapping her hands together.

‘I suppose we should go, then,’ Jupiter said nervously, clutching at the strap of her new backpack, graciously donated by Kiza, and packed by Stinger. He’d included a bunch of Kiza’s old baby supplies and shown her how to use them, assuring her that despite it being fifty years since their use, they had been stored properly and were good enough for a Common Citizen. Jupiter had been more caught by the fact that Kiza was over fifty than by the idea that Entitled babies had better tech.

‘I’m terminally ill,’ Kiza explained calmly when she asked, blasé about it. ‘I have a bug in my genetic code that means I can’t just settle in my prime age like most beings around the galaxy—I have a Legion tour owed,’ she added at Jupiter’s confusion, ‘or three. The problem is, the Legion will reset me to the middle of puberty, but by the time I get old enough to join the Legion, the bug has already kicked in, so I’m not eligible for combat anymore. Dad keeps taking on my tour debt whenever they bother checking up on us, stupid man. They can’t force him back if he doesn’t keep accepting responsibility for it. I’ll probably get reset in a year or two.’

It was an eye-opening reason why someone would use RegenX, to Jupiter. Kiza would keep on living, if she and her father had any choice in the matter, and they couldn’t afford any genetic manipulation outside of standard procedures—and it was definitely nonstandard. Kira’s bug was unique to her. She’d just keep owing the Legion tours until she got tired of her painful, crippled life, or the Legion stopped paying. A recode was completely out of their budget.

On the ship, Jupiter got a chance to look at some of the etiquette sheeves they’d shoved in her bag, some on that exact phenomena. There were hundreds of laws regarding the circumstances where a Citizen could be owed a RegenX treatment—or one of their equivalents—and Kira’s was just one of many, albeit a nepotistic one. She could only apply because Stinger, a former Legion Commander of an elite band of Special Forces called the Skyjackers, was her dad. It was the space equivalent of an active military member’s family getting special medical insurance.

Caine, likewise, was a special case, though she could still find laws outlining his rights to RegenX. As a splice, he already had limited access due to purported “ill effects on mutated humanoids”, which Jupiter was tempted to call bull on—but what RegenX he could use was either the really shitty stuff or the very expensive stuff. Both were used sporadically through an average Legionnaire’s career, for operations and battlefield treatments alike.

When she asked him about it as they prepared to jump through a portal to Orous—and wasn’t that so sci-fi, jumping through portals—Caine humoured her with a story about his wings, which he’d had as a Skyjacker.

‘They bathed me in it twice,’ he told her, clearly reminiscing. ‘I was only under for a second each time, and then I was ripped out so the next Skyjacker could get his turn, but it was instantaneous. The first was to get me back to peak condition, and the second was to repair the damage done by the surgery. The second bath was…indescribable. But the first one felt like being burned alive.’

‘Why such a difference?’

‘The second one was programmed not to reject my wings,’ he told her, as if it were that simple. Caine tapped the circular disk behind his ear she knew was a translator, like her own. ‘They forgot about this, though. It has a military-grade linking system. The droid assistants gave it to me and the rest of the squad before we went in the second time, and they popped out. The facility coordinator had to give us all an unauthorised second set, which was handy for me when I was banished—the droids who took my wings didn’t even register it as existing.’

‘So you got to keep it,’ Jupiter hummed, wondering what else it was used for other than translation. She didn’t get to ask, however, as he warned her the next second about how sick she might feel portal-jumping—and how out of sorts Max would act.

Yeah. That was an understatement.

Her daughter was still crying three hours later when they were lining up to have them registered, and while a part of Jupiter hated how annoyed it made the other people in line, a larger part of her was worried the portal-jumping had done something terrible to her she couldn’t see.

‘She’s fine,’ Caine assured her, taking Max into his arms and stroking her back soothingly, letting Max cry into his shirt. Jupiter clutched Caine’s arm worriedly at first, but when Max’s volume shifted from red-faced and exhausted crying to more familiar—and more heart-rending—whimpers, Jupiter finally let it be. She trusted Caine, even if she didn’t trust portals. While they hadn’t made her sick, they definitely made her feel like she’d downed six shots of expresso for the entire time they were in line that afternoon.

Unfortunately for Jupiter’s adrenaline-filled body, it was indeed the whole afternoon they waited. She even consented to feeding Max in public when she started whining, Caine’s coat draped around them—and miraculously, Max fell asleep.

‘Thank the stars,’ a nearby citizen muttered, echoed immediately by dozens of their fellows. Jupiter resisted the urge to argue with them and instead leant into Caine. Staring at the back of some random splice’s head that reminded her of Nino, she realised she’d forgotten to send her letter explaining to her family that she was okay, that she wasn’t really getting married somewhere in Las Vegas like she said on her voicemail, and it just made everything worse.

When they finally reached the counter, the administrator their listened carefully to their pitch and harrumphed. ‘Quite unusual,’ they muttered, whiskers twitching as they checked their computer. ‘A fine will be charged to your child’s higher economically advantaged parent for late application.’

Jupiter translated that to richer parent, then nodded, knowing she had nothing to her name. She’d make it up to Stinger later.

‘And my citizenship?’

‘Approved.’ The administrator said, handing over an oval chip. ‘Please take the credential sheeve to my colleague in the Identification Verification desk, where you will be assigned a Citizen Number and Tax Identification Number. Revenue Request will forward one to your last known Verifiable Location. Be aware that any further applications at the Ministry shall require a Verifiable Location Assurance ticket.’

‘A what, sorry?’ Jupiter questioned, the administrator luckily knowing exactly what she was questioning.

‘A permanent address. To acquire a Verifiable Location Assurance, or VLA, you must provide a landlord or local authority with your Citizen Number and proof of Request to Reside. Thank-you and good day.

‘Wait,’ Jupiter said before they could ring their bell, ‘What about my daughter? Does she need or get any of those now?’

The administrator shook their head. ‘A Citizen Number and Tax Identification Number will be assigned when your daughter reaches the local age of majority wherever she is registered, as a Class Two Citizen.’

‘How do I register her?’

‘She will be automatically registered when added to either of her parents or guardians’ VLA, thank-you. Have a good day. Next!’

Quickly shuffling out of the way, Jupiter looked at the proof of her existence in the Verse, marvelling at how small it was, then to Caine. With Max in his arms, he looked like a tired dad, and Jupiter was sure she didn’t look much better.

‘Okay—one more stop,’ she tried to smile, but bureaucracy was not her favourite thing in the world. Max whimpered.

Only, visiting the Identification Verification desk didn’t go nearly as smoothly. The administrator there, who at first looked at her lazily, then did a double take and refused to believe anything she said.

‘I can’t verify this,’ they said, eight eyes blinking in sync, spider mandibles clicking in an anxiety-inducing pace. ‘Milady, I will be levied if I allowed this.’

‘Levied for what? Verifying my identity?’ Jupiter asked, frustrated.

‘Milady-’

‘My name is Jupiter Jones,’ she interrupted, waving the credential sheeve in front of them, ‘I had a daughter as a Class Four Protected Citizen with a Class Two Common Citizen. By law, I get my own Class Two Citizenship!’

The administrator clicked their mandibles faster. ‘I cannot and will not verify your identity, milady. You are right about the law, but it doesn’t apply to you.’

‘Why?’ Jupiter asked, running out of steam earlier than she might have, if she hadn’t been standing in two different Ministry lines for fifteen hours. Max had been fed three times. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast with Stinger and the bathroom break between lines had been oh so insufficient.

The administrator paused, finally going still, before they slowly leaned forwards and said, ‘Milady, this may come as a shock to you—and I am aware this will make your administrative journey far longer than it needs to be as a Class Four Protected Citizen—but the Intergalactic Commonwealth does not have any administrative procedures for non-Class Two or Class One citizens being Recurrences, Notable or Significant. I cannot verify your identity when I am aware that you are a Recurrence. It would be identity fraud, milady.’

‘I,’ Jupiter swallowed her irritation, ‘am going to pretend I know what a Recurrence is. And now, I am unofficially going to ask you to hand me over to a colleague of yours who doesn’t know that I’m this…recurrence. Do you understand me? I’m not doing this to be difficult. I am just trying not to be kidnapped by bounty hunters and leave my daughter orphaned without a Will in place.’

Already bleach-white, the administrator didn’t exactly lose colour, but Jupiter could tell they looked a bit faint. ‘I- yes. Yes, I can do that. Praise your intellect, milady, for a humble servant such as myself couldn’t dream of such a plan. Yes. If you’ll just excuse me one moment,’ they said, before tapping a button that closed a set of shutters over their window. Immediately the line behind them started yelling, but not a moment later, the shutters opened again, revealing the same administrator.

Only this time, they were wearing a hat.

‘What can I, Administrator Nuline, who is most certainly not Administrator Enilun, do for you?’

Jupiter decided to let it go.

‘Here,’ she said, handing over the sheeve. ‘I’d like my identity verified, please.’

‘Of course,’ said “Nuline”, sliding the sheeve under a purple light and stamping it with a space stamp. ‘Here, Miss Jones. Your Intergalactic Commonwealth Identification—or ICID, for short. Your Tax Identification Number will arrive by light cannon at your VLA.’

‘I don’t need my Tax Identification Number to get my VLA?’ Jupiter asked, sure she’d heard otherwise.

‘Only if you reside with a Class Three Levied Citizen,’ the disguised administrator chirped, ‘and are the designated higher economically advantaged person in your household.’

‘…thank-you,’ Jupiter said hesitantly, taking her sheeve back. She paused when she realised that it was over. She was a Class Two Common Citizen. ‘Thank-you,’ she said again, genuinely meaning it.

The administrator chittered. ‘No, milady, no thanks needed. Is that all, today?’ When Jupiter shook her head, they took off their hat with a four-eyed wink, then called, ‘Next!’

And that was that.

‘Coming to bed?’ she called to Caine, once she’d settled Max in her space cot; it had its own personal gravity generator, emergency oxygen supply and life support, in case of a breach. Jupiter very much liked the space cot.

Sat in the pilots seat, Caine stayed silent in the face of her question. Jupiter frowned briefly, then set the cot to float beside the bunks in the back of the open cabin, opposite the combo-galley and gun storage. Then she came over to Caine, sliding onto his lap.

‘Hey,’ she whispered, cupping his cheeks. ‘Thank-you for today. Standing around doing nothing, helping me with Max…she’s gotten so attached, you know? I’ve gotten attached. To you, I mean.’ Jupiter knew she was babbling a little, but she let herself. Looping her arms around his neck, she touched their foreheads lightly, looking into his eyes. She whispered, ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you. Probably get kidnapped by bounty hunters.’

He stirred at that. ‘I won’t let them take you,’ he reiterated. Jupiter smiled, then kissed him. He kissed her back, softly at first, but then harder. Passionately. She giggled into his kiss as he lifted her to her feet, hands tearing at her jeans. She let him, hoping no-one in the spaceport—which, let’s be honest, was really just a space carpark—got a show.

‘Jupiter,’ he growled when she kicked her jeans and trainers off to the side, reaching for his dick. He let her unpack him, stroking his length. In seconds, he was rock hard, and that seemed to be enough for him, as he positioned her astride his lap. Jupiter didn’t wait to press down, groaning into the burn of it.

‘Caine,’ she panted, moving up and down, feeling the drag. Caine shifted his hips, clutching at her waist. ‘Caine- Caine, don’t stop. Keep going, please, please, please-’

It was the definition of a quickie, both of them finishing in record time, but Caine was still half-hard and Jupiter let herself sit with him inside her, arms looping around his neck, enjoying how the base of him was thicker than the rest. They kissed languidly, sated and enjoying themselves.

Probably just because of that, they were caught off-guard when the controls started blaring alarms. They jolted, heads twisting towards the cockpit, and Jupiter revolted when she saw multiple armed drones aimed at their window.

‘The hull is being breached,’ said Caine, unplugging himself and stuffing his dick back in his trousers. Unceremoniously, he set Jupiter to standing, and she wavered briefly, on jelly-legs. ‘Get dressed, quickly.’

‘What is happening?’ She panicked, wobbling over to her discarded jeans and tugging them on, ignoring her panties scrunched up on the floor. The apex of her legs was gushing with Caine’s semen and Jupiter thought about the mess it would be later, during clean-up, and the possible pregnancy risk, before getting her act together and reaching for her shoes.

Then the ship jerked to the side, and she banged her head on the wall with an almighty SLAM. Seeing stars—and ugh, Jupiter was pretty sure she blacked out for a split second—Jupiter felt Caine’s arms around her waist, before the familiar hum of his gun started up, a loud clanging echoing through the ship that reverberated through her head.

‘State your business,’ Caine demanded.

‘Just here for His Majesty’s property,’ said a far-too-evil voice. They were evil, in Jupiter’s mind, because they were clearly enjoying themselves too much. When she looked up, there was a pale man in front of her; a splice of some kind, who looked like an albino rat. ‘I’m afraid Lord Balem has a Protection Order on the citizens of the Sol System.’

‘Not a Class Four,’ Jupiter immediately said, relieved beyond all measure as she dizzily reached for Caine’s pocket. His chest was rock solid beneath her grasp, but her Intergalactic Commonwealth ID was easily fished out of his inside pocket. She held it up to the rat splice for inspection.

‘Ah,’ he said, looking to a black woman in some kind of uniform behind him. ‘There seems to have been some misunderstanding at the Ministry.’

The woman ignored the splice, looking at Jupiter. ‘Ma’am, may I see that, please?’

‘Give it back when you’re done,’ Jupiter said, letting the woman take it from her and ignoring Caine’s growl. Or not ignore, rather. ‘Sorry, you upset him. Both of us. We were in the middle of something, and then you made me hit my head when you broke into our ship.’

‘This ship is registered to a Stinger Apini.’

‘Yeah, my baby-daddy,’ Jupiter lied through her teeth, then realised what she said and lurched forwards, only stopped by Caine’s grasp. ‘Max! I swear to God, if she is hurt, I will fucking beat both your asses!’

‘Max is fine,’ Caine hissed at her, ‘The crib activated.’ Immediately, Jupiter craned past the rat splice and other woman to look at the space cot, heart racing as she saw the top had closed.

‘I am keeping that forever,’ she said plainly, before sagging into Caine’s side. Faintly, she tasted something on her top lip and she licked it, wrinkling her nose at the strange taste. She raised her fingers to her nose, trying not to panic at the sight of yellowish fluid, clear as water on her fingertips. She knew what that was. ‘Caine, I have spinal fluid coming out of my nose.’

Caine barked, ‘What?’ and spun her gently in his arms, sniffing deeply as he inspected her face. Anger lit his features before he turned to the two humanoids in their door. ‘Who are you?’

‘Captain Diomika Tsing, Aegis. She/her. This is Chicanery Night, of Abrasax Holdings,’ said the woman in a swift manner, saying, ‘We can get her seen by medics immediately, if you’d allow a transfer into our care. Miss Jones’ ICID checks out.’

Chicanery Night, the rat splice, immediately tried to put a stop to that, proving his evilness in Jupiter’s concussed eyes. ‘Lord Balem would be happy to accommodate any medical needs of one of his former Citizens-’

‘Shut up,’ Jupiter interrupted, feeling faint. Tapping Caine, she mumbled, ‘Look after Max. We’ll go with the Aegis. We’re partners, remember? With me, not for me. You can get them to help with whatever…thing, contract, you have with the other Entitled, too.’

Caine swallowed, then muttered frantically right back. ‘Jupiter, my employer was Titus Abrasax—the brother of the man who apparently owns your planet.’

The world starting to spin before her eyes, Jupiter managed one thought before she finally blacked out.

Shit.

Chapter Text

‘Checkmate, little cousin.’

Vladie grinned at her, while Jupiter struggled to find a way to refute him. But there was a bishop stopping her from moving left, and rook about to kill her king, and a queen on the other side of the board waiting to strike if she moved forwards. Jupiter’s eyes filled with tears. She was on the back of the board. There was nowhere else to go.

At her tears, Vladie stopped smiling. ‘Hey—hey, Jupe. Watch this,’ he said, before pushing over his own king. Jupiter’s mouth dropped. ‘You win.’

‘But-’

‘You win.’

Jupiter looked around wildly, seven years old and so very confused. ‘But you were going to win!’

Cousin Vladie grinned again, then toppled the board entirely so he could jump across the carpet to crush her. ‘Kissy monster attack!’

‘Ahh! No kissy monster!’

‘Too late, cousin! Remember I lost because I love you, Jupiter Jones!’

I love you, Jupiter Jones.

Jupiter woke with a start, Vladie’s laughter still ringing between her ears. When she looked around, all she saw at first was gunmetal grey, but then she saw a window overlooking the vast planetropolis that was Orous and remembered. Max, Caine, Captain Tsing, Chicanery, my head…

Her hand rose to her nose, but there was no sign of the spinal fluid indicating how serious her head injury had been. When she stood up—and that was strange, she was floating, what the fuck—a short woman with her hair in a bright blue braid tied into a bun came over to check over her.

‘Hello, Miss Jones. I am Medic Leila Mayuza, she/her. You are currently on board the Aegis battle cruiser LQ-Forty-Ninety, and I’m to inform you that Mister Caine Wise and your daughter, Maxine, are both currently guests of the captain until your current issues, medical and political, are resolved.’

Political? ‘Thank-you,’ Jupiter said as she was lightly deposited on her feet, realising she’d changed clothes. The shirt she’d borrowed from Caine was gone, replaced by a set of space hospital pyjamas in white. When she tugged at the rough material of the shirt, Mayuza gestured to a box at the end of the bed.

‘Your personal effects are inside, including your ICID. Captain Tsing returned it personally. If I may?’ She gestured with a small phone-sized scanner, Jupiter nodding in assent so she could wave it around and look at the results. ‘All done. You might feel nausea for a few days, but with Mr Apini’s permission, as your next of kin, we gave you the recommended vaccinations for your species, plus a few mandatory spacefaring vaccines you’ll need to navigate the Commonwealth safely.’

‘I’m vaccinated?’ Jupiter’s eyes were blown wide at the thought. She was vaccinated. She’d be one of very few in her family to be so. ‘Holy shit…thank-you so much. Did it cost much?’

‘The mandatory vaccinations, no, and Mr Apini has taken the cost of your Sol System vaccinations. The Aegis have taken responsibility for the remaining, as part of reparations. As I understand it,’ said Mayuza, ‘Captain Tsing will explain why.’

‘Okay. Am I free to get changed and go see her?’

‘Yes,’ Mayuza lowered her scanner. With a small smile, she gestured to the door. ‘I’ll wait outside, then take you to the bridge.’

‘Okay,’ Jupiter repeated.

As promised, her ICID was on top of her clothes, which thankfully included her shoes and underwear. All had clearly been washed, which made Jupiter blush. At the bottom, there was a blue leather jacket she vaguely recognised, thinking she’d seen it hung up in Stinger’s home. When she put it on, it was clearly sized for Kiza. Her ICID went in a pocket on her lapel clearly meant for something that shape, which was an interesting thought, but then in the normal left-hand pocket, she felt a crumpled-up bit of paper.

Taking it out, she at first just saw a receipt for Taco Bell, but on the flipside of the receipt, there was a note written in red sharpie.

Heard Dad calling Titus Abrasax over FTL. Caine’s contract included his own pardon, dad’s pardon, and a recode for me. Wings included. Dad is getting me fixed and Max home in exchange for you and Caine. He’s going to use the Keeper ship.

Be careful, Jupiter.

Hands shaking, Jupiter struggled to think about what to do. Caine: Caine wasn’t in the clear. He was still a criminal. An escaped criminal, if this Titus Abrasax bothered sending word, and he would, if he was anything like the rich billionaires on Earth. That was the most pressing thing. He wouldn’t be able to stay with Jupiter, if that changed any time soon. Jupiter had to hope it wouldn’t.

Stinger: that was a betrayal. One Jupiter could forgive, because he’d prioritised Kiza and Max. Fuck, he’d really led them on, hadn’t he? Got them to do the legwork while he presumably got ready to give them over to Titus. Only, he hadn’t figured that Balem Abrasax would get their first, waving sheevework in her face. The two wrongs cancelled each other out, at that point.

At this point, her only possible ally was this Captain Tsing, but…but what? The Aegis were law enforcement. She clearly wasn’t patrolling, like Stinger warned her about, and apart from drilling into their ship rather than just damn knocking, she’d only been following the law.

Jupiter touched the ICID in her pocket. And on a personal note, she wasn’t one to trust police—but this one had kept her promise to return the only piece of government ID she’d ever known.

Folding the receipt carefully, Taco Bell side-up, she put it back in her pocket and promised to tell Caine when she next saw him. But first: Captain Tsing.

Jupiter took a breath, then went to the door, chatting with Mayuza about her experience waiting in line at the Ministry as they walked from the medbay to the main deck. Mayuza seemed fun. Jupiter didn’t trust her to do more than she was ordered, but she seemed fun, anyhow.

When they reached the bridge, Jupiter was introduced by her name, along with the phrase “C2 Common Citizen”, Captain Tsing nodding respectfully at her entrance.

‘Miss Jones, welcome to the LQ Four Zero Ninety, Aegis Emergency Responder Battlecraft. Have you ever been on a military vessel before?’

‘No.’

‘Alright—well, all you really need to know is that my word is law,’ said Tsing. ‘Everyone respects that, Entitled Class Citizens included. I understand that you were once a Class Four Protected Citizen, however that ended when you gained your new status. Before we move onto more important matters, I must make it clear that knowledge of the Verse is strictly not a topic for discussion while on your home planet, unless in the presence of other non-Class Fours, and only other non-Class Fours. Is that understood?’

Jupiter tried not to quake in fear at Tsing’s stern voice. ‘Yes, Captain. Understood.’

‘Good.’ Tsing nodded. ‘You may also hear Class Four peoples referred to as Tersies. This is an Orous slang word drawn from an astoundingly garbled translation of the word protected in conjunction with the c for Citizen, but it’s nothing derivative.’

She nodded back. ‘I see. Anything else I should know?’

‘Yes. Mr Night was left with his guards on Orous,’ said Tsing, ‘but I have had multiple inquiries into your health. I have no obligation to answer these, and I don’t plan to. Also, I have allowed Mr Caine temporary asylum until a proper Contract Adjudicator contacts me, rather than Lord Titus’ secretary.’

Shit. Immediately, Jupiter took out the Taco Bell receipt and showed Tsing. ‘I think it’s because there’s another contract out on me,’ she blurted out, watching Tsing read Kiza’s note. Jupiter elaborated on the contents, in case Tsing didn’t know the details. ‘It’s from Kiza Apini, Stinger’s daughter. Older daughter, that is. We’re friends. She has a genetic bug.’

‘Hm,’ Tsing waved the receipt, asking her, ‘May I keep this as evidence? Your testimony on matters may mean more than you believe.’

That trust—it sparked something in her. Another memory. ‘The administrator said something,’ she watched Tsing carefully, not letting her gaze drop. ‘Something about me recurring.’

Tsing’s eyes widened minutely. ‘Recurrence. You probably came across a worshipper of Genetic Divinity, milady.’

Jupiter’s brow furrowed. ‘They called me that, too. What’s a Recurrence? What’s the difference between being Significant and Notable?’ Oh yes, she remembered that bit, and had the confidence now to add the verbal capitalisation with Tsing’s confirmation that it was important.

Did Caine know?

‘It is…a term in the Commonwealth, the latter two descriptive in nature, for…genetic reincarnation.’ In Jupiter’s opinion, Tsing didn’t seem to believe in it any more than an average person believed in God—but the way she looked at Jupiter made her think Tsing might have held a bit more respect for the term than the captain herself had realised, until now.

‘Genetic reincarnation.’

‘Yes.’

‘Like…when you accidentally find your twin who isn’t related to you?’

‘No,’ Tsing corrected quickly, explaining, ‘The surface appearance is important, through epigenetics, but genetics as a whole are revered across the Verse. It’s difficult to explain, but hundreds of thousands of years of recorded history makes it increasingly possible for two people of importance with the exact same genome to appear naturally, without outside interference. A Significant Recurrence is someone who comes within point zero-zero-zero percent difference of the Original Self’s genetic code. A Notable Recurrence is the same, but within point zero-zero. Recurrences do not, as a rule, occur within point zero percent difference, so…there isn’t another term.’ Tsing’s voice became awkward as her short rant ended.

Yeah.

Tsing was definitely having a moment of introspection, there.

‘Alright, so I might be a Recurrence,’ Jupiter said, starting to put together why the Abrasax brothers might want her. ‘Who do Titus and- what was his name?’

‘Lord Balem.’

‘Balem. Who do Titus and Balem think I am, then? The administrator recognised me, so it must be someone in the public eye.’

‘Or who was in the public eye,’ Tsing added, clearly having a sudden thought. She tapped her chin. ‘Hm. Lieutenant Chatterjee, please search up the female members of House Abrasax. Including recently deceased.’

Over by a control panel, a female android—Chatterjee—replied positively. ‘Yes, Captain. Searching now. Female members of House Abrasax currently include Kalique, Princess of Cerise, who doesn’t match Miss Jones’ visual description. Likewise, her four acknowledged nieces by Lord Balem and Lord Titus, respectively, are not a match.’

‘And the unacknowledged?’ Tsing questioned dryly, in an aside to Jupiter, saying, ‘Lord Titus is somewhat infamous for both his debts and his carelessness.’

Across the bridge, Chatterjee shook her head. ‘The purported daughters of Lord Titus are not a visual match, either. I’ll expand the search to deceased members, Cap-’ Chatterjee went quiet for a second, before speaking in a far more urgent tone. ‘Captain. A visual match for Jupiter Jones can be found in the late Seraphi of House Abrasax, former Queen and Abrasax Sovereign.’

‘Show us on screen,’ ordered Tsing, twisting to settle better in her post, Jupiter joining a little behind her.

Across the glass which previously showed Orous in all its industrial glory, a holographic screen came to life, showing a grand three-dimensional portrait of a woman. She was dressed like a waterfall, pale pink flowers and stringed diamonds rushing down a torrent of blue silk and taffeta, bust hidden behind a river of rose-gold chains. She was beautiful. Her crown was a sunburst, hair like vines, curling around her face.

She was Jupiter, and she wasn’t at all.

‘Seraphi Abrasax,’ Captain Tsing stated with all the graveness required. Her hands locked behind her back as she turned to Jupiter. ‘Milady, if a sample of your DNA might be handed to Medic Mayuza in the infirmary, we can clear up any misunderstandings in the Hall of Titles. If you are any sort of Recurrence of Her Majesty, it must be resolved before more agents of Abrasax Holdings can be dispatched.’ Including Stinger Apini, her eyes seemed to say.

‘…yes. Yes, let’s sort this,’ Jupiter agreed, thinking of Caine, looking after Max in whatever guest quarters Tsing had granted him asylum in. He probably knew already. Or he probably knew by the time the administrator mentioned it, and he hadn’t told her. Hadn’t warned her. If she was an Abrasax…if she were an Abrasax…

Then Jupiter was an Entitled. A Class One Entitled Citizen.

‘I’ll tell Caine,’ she decided. Tsing nodded. Jupiter looked back at Mayuza. ‘Medbay?’

Mayuza gave a short bow of her head and shoulders. ‘Yes, milady.’ Jupiter’s gut churned at the deferential treatment and she fell silent as Mayuza led her all the way back to where they started—only this time, when they got there, Jupiter was witness to everything Mayuza did. From the sharp prick on her fingertip so reminiscent of the blood drive, to the computer spitting out its results with a noise meant to alarm.

This time, when Mayuza spoke to her, it was with the title ‘Your Majesty’ on her lips.

Chapter Text

The simplicity of bureaucracy was thus: you stepped in line, waited for your turn, and no matter what you did, knew you weren’t going to get any further until the person in front of you was finished.

Jupiter, already having dealt with the Ministry too many times only the day before, was abruptly very grateful that there existed precedence for her to ascend to Class One. Advocate Robert, Model 03BK4—“Call me Bob, Advocate Bob”—listened to her when she explained her recent Class upgrade, then took her and the Aegis officers assigned to her protection on a trip to Identification Renewal, where they took their own genetic sample to compare against Seraphi’s.

‘Not seen this in centuries,’ muttered the administrator, not caring that Jupiter had spent four hours and eighteen minutes in line waiting for their approval. Her ICID was handed back. ‘This will now grant you authorisation used by Class One Entitled Citizens and function as gene-print identification. It will no longer function as a Class Two Common Citizen Identification Sheeve.’

‘Please pardon me for the question—but Her Majesty acquired a new Tax Identification Number in the last day cycle. Will Revenue Request still have a copy?’ Advocate Bob smiled on her behalf, allowing Jupiter the chance to proverbially sit back and relax.

The administrator grunted. ‘If it’s within the time period of the last day cycle, yes. Otherwise, you’ll have to file for a new copy, which can take up to a full week cycle.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Advocate Bob, taking back the upgraded ICID. ‘We’d better move along, then.’

‘Thank-you for helping, by the way,’ Jupiter said to him as they rushed from Identification Renewal to Revenue Request.

‘My function is my life, and my life is my function!’ Advocate Bob smiled sunnily, bowing theatrically as they entered an elevator. ‘After you, Your Majesty.’

‘Thank-you, Advocate Bob,’ she replied, happy for the banter. It was odd, but made her feel normal. God, she thought as Bob, and her two dozen Aegis guards joined her in the elevator, I need more friends.

In Revenue Request, they miraculously came across another android the same model as Bob, and it was clear from the start that they were wary of each other. ‘Not the same line, thank the stars,’ he muttered to her on the way out, having very neatly parried what was most certainly an insult to Jupiter from his Ministry colleague about her lack of Verified Location Assurance. That being said, Jupiter was pretty sure according to Stinger’s backdated sheeves, her only ever Verifiable Location was Stinger’s home on Earth. Aka Earth’s Aegis Marshall Outpost. Just because she didn’t have a VLA, didn’t mean she didn’t have a permanent address in the Intergalactic Commonwealth, however fake it really was.

‘Now we have a gene-print and your tax number on hand, let’s go to the Hall of Titles,’ Advocate Bob announced.

‘Alright,’ said Jupiter, reluctant to keep going. Her feet hurt and she knew Caine would get worried soon, if he wasn’t already. She hoped he did as she asked and looked after Max, but Caine was slippery as an eel—he knew how to do what he wanted, inside and outside the boundaries set for him.

Advocate Bob hesitated at her tone, asking stiltedly, ‘I am aware that organics require rest and recuperation at regular intervals. Is that something you need, Your Majesty?’

‘All of them,’ she admitted. ‘I know I need to be here, but I do need rest.’

‘Then you shall rest.’ He glanced at the Aegis guards around them and very badly whispered, ‘I did think our friends here were looking ragged.’

‘Try being on duty for four months without recharging, or so Lieutenant Chatterjee would say,’ said one of the Aegis officers, cracking his neck with a loud click. He winked at Jupiter. ‘Officer Petra Barker. Most of us are two days on shift, Your Majesty. He’s got the right of it.’

‘Let’s take a break, then,’ she encouraged, looking to Advocate Bob. ‘Could you make a plan in the meantime and find out what I need for each department? My inheritance from Seraphi isn’t as important as ensuring I’m fully protected by Entitled Law.’

Advocate Bob tilted his head in thought, and if not for the fact that he was clearly a robot, she would have found his unblinking gaze to absolutely be the creepiest thing she’d seen, at least since Halloween of 2009. He was thinking hard, she knew, calculations whirring.

‘If that is priority, then I believe I can speed up Your Majesty’s ascension. It would only require one more stop…if Her Ladyship would be willing to deal with the consequences.’

Jupiter asked warily, ‘What consequences?’

‘We are currently in the process of separating two identities associated with your genetic code,’ Advocate Bob explained calmly. Plainly. Jupiter forced herself not to startle as certain things started to make sense to her. ‘You have your identity of Jupiter Jones, who was a Class Four, then Class Two, and now Class One Entitled Citizen. However, your genetic code belongs unequivocally to Seraphi of House Abrasax, Queen and Sovereign Abrasax. In this, it doesn’t matter if she is dead. You are alive, and therefore, so is she. It is not a matter of faith—although certain androids I know would argue that it only exists because of faith, and they certainly have their points—but rather, of law.’

Advocate Bob leaned in, so he was at level height with her. ‘We have solidified Jupiter Jones as someone whom an Entitled can leave their possessions to without consequences. You, acting as Her Ladyship, Queen Seraphi, may then use a quitclaim to hand over all possession of herself to you. You, Jupiter Jones, become all that Seraphi Abrasax is—because you, Your Majesty, Jupiter Jones, belong to yourself. It’s quite simple, really. And once you are Jupiter-who-is-Seraphi, you are alive! And what is no longer dead, owns what they had when they were living.’

‘So-’ Jupiter’s heart pounded ‘-what’s your idea?’

Advocate Bob smiled.

‘Oh, I don’t like that,’ said one of her Aegis guards.

‘There is no rush to claim yourself, and all that you are. In fact, nothing legally binding exists to force you to do so. Neither is there a law defining when an Entitled Citizen must consolidate multiple identities, so long as they are acknowledged.’ Advocate Bob’s smile widened even further and yes, Jupiter could see what the Aegis guard meant. ‘To my considerable and vast knowledge of Sovereign Ascension and Recurrence Legal Recombination, there is no reason why you could not stay both Seraphi of House Abrasax and Jupiter Jones.’

‘That is kind of scary. Brilliant, but scary, Advocate Bob,’ Jupiter told him, trying to absorb as much as she could. ‘And the whole dead thing…’

‘Oh, we’d have several legal battles on our hands from your children,’ Advocate Bob waved off. ‘But without disposing of the Seraphi identity, you are perfectly within your rights to insist upon the retraction of your previous Will.’

‘My children?’ Jupiter repeated, before the last part caught her attention. ‘Oh no, my Will. I forgot to write a Will! Shit- Bob, I need to file a Will. As Jupiter Jones. Right now. Fuck—sorry guys, no rest for the wicked.’ She looked to her guards, then back to Bob, frantically. ‘And sure, yeah, let’s go with it. Two identities. While I’m writing my Will as Jupiter, can I retract Seraphi’s Will and put in a new one, saying everything goes to Jupiter Jones. Like- like a quitclaim if I die? And then the same for me, Jupiter. Everything I have goes to my daughter.’

Advocate Bob blinked rapidly, then asked, ‘Are you referring to Kalique Abrasax?’

‘No—no, I’m talking about Max.’ Jupiter looked up at Bob, wondering if she’d mentioned Max during her whole Cliffs Notes on changing Classes. ‘I did mention I have a daughter, right?’

‘…no.’ Advocate Bob blinked at her again, then gave her a strained smile that—to her ears—quite literally made him creak from the forceful nature of it. ‘But we shall have to add her to the Ascension plan. I now see how you became a Class Two.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, uh—that.’

‘That?’ Advocate Bob raised an eyebrow.

Jupiter cringed. ‘That.’

‘…that.’ The android’s smile dropped, and Jupiter’s cringe intensified.

‘That.’

‘Your Majesty, while I am…inspired by your possible ingenuity, because your tone very much implies you did not, in fact, gain Intergalactic Commonwealth Citizenship via your daughter’s Birthright Citizenship, I must inform you that any legal faux-pas at this point in time could result in a very messy situation. Not for you,’ Advocate Bob warned, this time very serious, ‘but for your daughter. The Commonwealth runs on adherence to the law. Not even Entitled are immune to the consequences, and Your Majesty…your daughter is far from it, right now.’

Her mouth dry at the thought, Jupiter could only nod.

‘Alright.’ Advocate Bob lost his serious demeanour slowly, breathing in and out deeply, in what to a humanoid might have been a very calming motion. ‘With that out the way, we shall first of all visit Wills and Trusts, and Jupiter Jones shall record her most base wishes regarding your daughter’s inheritance. Then, we shall go to Seals and Signets, where both Jupiter Jones and Seraphi Abrasax shall claim with the same gene-print. Then, we shall return to Wills and Trusts to retract and remake. Is this clear?’

‘Yes,’ said Jupiter, along with her guard.

Advocate Bob beamed.

‘Excellent!’

The simplicity of bureaucracy was thus: you stepped in line, waited for your turn, and no matter what you did, knew you weren’t going to get any further until the person in front of you was finished.

Jupiter Jones—and Seraphi Abrasax, who was Jupiter, who was Seraphi—stepped out of Seals and Signets, and found her guard in formation against Stinger Apini and a band of hired thugs. She met Stinger’s eyes over the shoulder of Officer Barker and quietly revelled in his confusion.

‘Caine is safe under Aegis asylum,’ she informed him, tapping Barker on the shoulder. He twisted exactly half a foot, so she could speak to Stinger from within formation; his eyes sought hers and found Jupiter’s wish to move on peacefully. ‘And I’ll be helping Kiza.’

‘Jupiter-’

Barker interrupted with a—well. A bark. ‘You shall address Her Majesty using formal etiquette appropriate for her standing!’

Stinger immediately fell to one knee, eyes wide.

Aaaaaand nope. Jupiter barely restrained herself from running over to him as she tried not to shout, ‘Get up, for God’s sake, Stinger. And Officer Barker, he’s one of the few exceptions in this case.’

Barker stiffened. ‘Your Majesty?’

‘He’s Max’s father. I think that deserves a little leeway,’ she said, feeling so much more awkward than when she’d called him her baby-daddy to Captain Tsing’s face. Behind her, Advocate Bob let out a little gasp—but still kneeling, Stinger was practically insensate.

‘I knew you were special, I could feel it. Bees recognise royalty,’ he said, while his fellows stood around, looking as awkward as Jupiter felt.

‘Stand up, please, Stinger,’ she begged. A sour kind of relief shot through her as he did so, rubbing at his jaw in disbelief.

‘Max…she’s…’ he muttered, so wondrous he was almost aghast. She saw his eyes darting between each of her Aegis guards, flashing a curious gold, before he grinned...but not a good grin. A flat kind of grin. He glanced back at the alleyway he and his thugs had appeared from, calling out, ‘Famulus!’

From around the corner, a splice woman popped out, frowning at the heavy Aegis presence. ‘Officers,’ she greeted them cautiously.

Jupiter let Barker return to his previous position, catching Stinger’s eye once more. Saw him winking.

‘Are you waiting for your master, Miss Famulus?’ Barker questioned shortly. ‘You work for Lord Titus, as I understand it.’

Titus Abrasax. Seraphi’s…son? My son. He has a brother- and a sister? Fuck, are they all my kids? They’re all my kids.

Shit. Jupiter had three adult children.

‘I do,’ Famulus said, diplomatic. ‘I am meant to convey an invitation to Jupiter Jones to join my lord on his alcázar, in orbit.’

Barker snorted. ‘Not a fucking chance. He’d have an easier time inviting Seraphi.’

‘He really would.’ Advocate Bob whispered to her, once more lacking in the whole “whisper” department. Jupiter saw the twitch of Famulus’ ear, before the splice smiled and spoke again.

‘Then he shall. If Her Ladyship, Queen Seraphi would like to join her son for a meal, my lord would be most gracious.’ At her words, there was a tense silence, and Jupiter had the funny feeling her guards had been caught in some kind of verbal attack—proven when Bob made a small aw shucks gesture with his fist, shaking his head.

Letting herself breath in deeply, Jupiter played it cool and tried acting like her richest clients on their worst days—like Katherine, before they knew each other. ‘At a later date, perhaps. Titus can clean up his disastrous reputation first. As we have business to attend to, I’ll…make this quick.’ Jupiter swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t feel like herself. ‘I expect the pardons Titus has acquired for Stinger Apini and Caine Wise to be delivered to Captain Diomika Tsing of the Aegis, by the Contract Adjudicator she has been waiting for so patiently, as well as sheevework for all the other unnecessary shit Titus has pulled in his Sovereign’s absence.’

‘If a splice such as myself might be so bold, knowing your son as I do,’ Famulus said, of all things sounding excited, ‘then I would advise Her Majesty to be ready for negotiations. Lord Titus is indeed quite in need of a firm hand, who shall not shy away from his flaws, and there is much he shall not wish to be brought into the public eye.’

Pretending not to care wasn’t quite within Jupiter’s limits—but translating that flowery bit of prose took more effort than it should have. I think your son is awful but I adore him; he’ll definitely fight you on everything, and I’ll watch, because he needs his mother to spank him at a public garden party in the discipline sort of way, and not the party kind of way. Like Vladie, but with three times the whine.

Well, that’s what she got, at least.

‘I am Seraphi Abrasax. I am Jupiter Jones. If he wants to negotiate, fine. I’m not finished in the Ministry quite yet—I’m sure he’ll be able to make up the difference in other ways.’ Before anyone could argue with her pseudo-threat of bankrupting him, Jupiter called out to Stinger. ‘Stinger. Join the guard formation already, or do whatever it is you’re planning.’

‘As Her Majesty orders,’ said Stinger, bowing his head before attacking the nearest thug. A command was shouted at the Aegis which had them picking her and Bob up under their arms and running for it, Bob’s protests drowning out even the loudest crack of bone.

‘HELP! THUGS BY SEALS AND SIGNETS! ATTACK ON A ROYAL, ATTACK ON A ROYAL!’

Barker ordered the two humanoids in the elevator out with barely more than a baring of his teeth, and then they were packed inside, riding in silence. It couldn’t have been more than six seconds.

Heart pounding as she was deposited on her feet, Jupiter asked, ‘Will Stinger be alright?’

Advocate Bob chittered nervously. ‘Former-Commander Stinger Apini was the most dangerous man in that alleyway—of course he’ll be alright!’

‘Agreed,’ said Barker, right as the elevator doors opened on the floor for Wills and Trusts. ‘The Lord Consort has survived far worse, Your Majesty.’

The Lord what, now?

But they were in another crowded room, and Jupiter had no intention of spreading rumours about her own love life. Her face burned with all the force of a thousand suns. Yes, she thought he was…shaped good. The stubble was growing on her. And yes, she had ridden with him in the Keeper ship and practically spooned him for several hours on their way to his farm—but Lord Consort? Was this some legal side-effect of him being on Max’s space birth certificate?

My mother is going to kill me if she finds out I actually got married without her, Jupiter thought in horror, before snapping to attention as Advocate Bob stopped them in the exceedingly short line at Wills and Trusts.

‘We’ll get through here in an hour, if we’re lucky,’ muttered the other Aegis guard, the one who wasn’t Barker, but was chatty enough to call Bob scary.

‘Don’t jinx us,’ Jupiter warned them.

‘I’ll try not to, Your Majesty.’

The line luckily did only take an hour—and a half. Jupiter had gotten used to having standing naps in the Ministry, and the amount of times they shuffled further down the line totally broke her zen. At some point, Stinger joined them.

‘Your Majesty,’ he greeted her. Jupiter grabbed his hand at the sight of a cut over his brow, then watched him recognise her leather jacket. ‘Kiza?’

‘Kiza. I think I’ve grown on her,’ she said, their fingers locking as Stinger was, to his own surprise, shuffled into the centre of the formation rather than into it, as a guard himself.

Advocate Bob raised an eyebrow. ‘My Lord Apini.’

‘Eh?’ Stinger raised an eyebrow right back.

‘Oh, didn’t you hear? Her Majesty did not consolidate her identities, but both are Entitled,’ said Bob, who Jupiter knew was stirring up trouble on purpose. It wasn’t even the bad kind of trouble; it was the teasing kind of trouble. ‘As the legal father of Princess Maxine, you now have a title of your own that, at least on Seraphi’s end, has never been gifted to any of her consorts.’

‘Oh Christ, what title’s this?’ Stinger squeezed her hand as he said it, as if apologising for all the stupid space bureaucracy that existed to torment them.

‘Technically, I believe you are Lord Consort Stinger Apini of House Jones, though there is no recognised House Jones as of yet. Hm, what a thought!’ Advocate Bob tapped his lip, then smiled fantastically. ‘Of course! Prior to the use of Houses, the Entitled Class used the term dynasty. Without a registered House, but otherwise living in the same financial and societal bracket, you are Lord Consort Stinger Apini of the Jones Dynasty, in the same way that Jupiter Jones is not a Sovereign herself. How novel!’

‘…fucking politics,’ he eventually replied, and it was Jupiter’s turn to squeeze his hand.

When they finally made it to the Wills and Trust counter, like the first time she’d been there that day—or maybe yesterday, at that point—Advocate Bob requested a privacy bubble, and Jupiter, as Seraphi Abrasax, was able to rescind her previous Will and retract all bequeathments and suchlike. While the administrator there was all too keen to warn her about taking back everything, “Seraphi” did just that, and had them copy the previous Will onto a separate sheeve for her to browse at a later date. Then, she instated a new Will, giving everything to herself in a post-death quitclaim as Jupiter Jones.

‘…this kind of Will needs acknowledgement from both parties,’ said the administrator, staring, but ultimately allowing it when Jupiter presented either wrist, marked with her signets. Seraphi’s had come second and was on her left arm: a beautiful blue stencil of Orous, surrounded by her ICID in Classical Orous. Jupiter, as a new member of the Entitled, had the privilege of designing her own. While she’d allowed the administrator there to advise her on the particulars—like tattooing the ICID and other relevant invisible metrics, which seemed like common sense, but were actually things most Entitled apparently didn’t want to have tattooed on them, despite using them for signatures and identification purposes, the idiots—the actual picture she saw whenever she looked at the mark on her right wrist was that of a telescope, with a capital A hidden in the struts. It was for her parents: for Aleksa Bolotnikov-Jones and Maximilian, who loved the stars.

Her own Will as Jupiter Jones was simple. All her assets would fall to Max, to be held in trust by her father, Stinger Apini, if she died before Max hit twenty-one. Likewise, if Stinger died, then it was Kiza, as Stinger’s closest living relative, in conjunction with Caine. Only then did it get dicey, but Jupiter was too paranoid not to put in a third clause, stating that if the Apini’s and Caine were dead, Max was to be raised under the protection of the Aegis. And if the worst happened, and Max wasn’t alive to receive her inheritance, then it was Jupiter’s Will that it all fall to her next Recurrence, under the condition that said Recurrence had nothing to do with any RegenX or similar substance and its industry, either through proxy or their descendants. She refused to be a planet-destroyer, now or in the future.

But in other words, if she and Max died, then it was an all-round fuck you to three children she’d never met.

‘House Abrasax are ruthless,’ Captain Tsing told her when she finally returned, giving her one last piece of advice before she went to find Caine and Max, Stinger by her side. ‘They’ll not forget what you’ve done, in the name of their mother, and they will respect you for it. Even if they hate it. Their Empire has been well shattered—RegenX is not worth the lives it costs.’

‘Lives?’ Jupiter had copied, so tired that nothing seemed real any more. ‘I thought it was just the planets that were harvested.’

Captain Tsing took one long look at her face, and it seemed like the whole bridge was watching them as she shook her head. ‘Jupiter Jones, you brave heart of a girl. Ask me again tomorrow how they make RegenX and I promise, I will tell you what your paramours have not.’

‘…okay. Tomorrow.’ Jupiter yawned sleepily, then let Officer Barker lead her—and Stinger, don’t forget Stinger—through the Aegis ship, until they finally reached the room where Caine had been placed. On their arrival, the lycantant just about attacked them with hugs, and Jupiter would have loved to hug him longer, maybe even give him a kiss—but behind him she saw her baby.

‘My baby, my little girl,’ she cooed, bursting into tears at the same time as her daughter as they reunited.

The ensuing snuggle was epic. The following sleep was the best she’d had in weeks.

Chapter Text

Jupiter awoke on the fifth day of her adventure across the Verse bracketed by two hot men. For a split second where she forgot said adventure, she wondered if it was possible to get fucked six ways to Sunday by the beefcakes on either side of her, then realised she’d woken up because Max was crying.

‘Baby…’ she crawled up, climbing over the blankets to grab Max from her epic space cot, then drag her back towards the cushions. Caine briefly opened his eyes on her right. He watched her take off her shirt to feed Max, and readjusted so his arm looped around her knee as he went back to sleep on his stomach.

On her left, Stinger decided he’d much rather gape at the sight of her topless. Jupiter blamed the time of day, settling Max against her chest, then using her spare hand to run her fingers through his hair, gone spiky in his sleep. Stinger’s mouth slowly slid shut, and he didn’t seem to know what to do.

‘It’s fine,’ Jupiter whispered. She was just feeding Max. Eventually, Stinger nodded, but he didn’t go back to sleep like Caine, content to watch her as she ran her hand over his head rhythmically. When Max switched sides and Jupiter couldn’t move to correct the overbalance because of Caine’s grip on her leg, Stinger sat up, letting her use his side as a cushion.

‘Caine didn’t know where to look,’ she murmured to him, trying not to wake said lycantant any more than he probably was. Caine slept light. ‘It was his first time, I think.’

‘Probably never seen a tit in its natural environment,’ Stinger commented, both of them smiling when Caine grunted quietly in protest. ‘I had Kiza’s mother around.’

‘What happened?’

‘Died. We were both soldiers, and only one of us left for any good amount of time. Something about a laser turret. Raising Kiza was the best decision I ever made, though it didn’t make me love her mother, unfortunately.’

‘So, not a happily ever after?’ Jupiter asked. Stinger shook his head, and Jupiter wondered what it would be like to kiss him, right then. Would it be nice, like this? She’d probably get beard burn from all that stubble…

By her leg, Caine grunted pointedly, then looked up and told her, ‘Stinger filled me in. Looks like he’s set up for life.’

‘You aren’t exactly my legal anything right now,’ she complained, ‘and being my boyfriend is a bit different from being my agreed-on fake baby-daddy. And he was there, for a reason I hope he actually told you.’

Stinger sighed, reaching to curl a dark lock of Max’s hair. ‘I did,’ he promised, Caine making a point of climbing a little more on top of her leg moodily. ‘Oh, get off with your possessive streak, you big freak. We all know who calls the shots here.’

‘Not in bed,’ Caine replied. Jupiter flushed, resisting the urge to wriggle guiltily as he looked her in the eye pointedly, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was to her pelvis.

‘Really? The baby is right here,’ Stinger said, before Max decided to start snoring. Caine changed his track immediately, and Jupiter got to witness the transformation of Sexy Caine to Dad Caine in seconds. It hit her right in the ovaries. He picked her up, burped her, made sure she wasn’t sick and put her to bed.

With Max in the crib again, Sexy Caine made his comeback, hauling Stinger by his leg into a flat position that made him yelp in surprise and kneeling on either side of his hips, grinning daringly.

‘Who calls the shots, Stinger? Is it you? Or-’ Jupiter watched as he leant down lower, right in front of Stinger’s golden eyes, breath hitching in time with her own as Caine whispered, ‘Is it me, like it always is? Want to get railed, old man? Want Jupe to watch you taking it while you fuck her?’

‘Caine,’ Stinger said his name like a prayer, then abruptly looked back at Jupiter, anticipation burning in his gaze. Jupiter’s heart raced. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to get fucked and be fucked as he fucked her, and Jupiter didn’t want anything less.

She opened her mouth to beg for it-

‘Captain Tsing, to Her Majesty,’ came an overhead chime, a computerised voice repeating, ‘Captain Tsing, to Her Majesty. Your presence is requested, at your convenience.’

‘Shit,’ Jupiter breathed, remembering Tsing’s rules. The moment broken, she watched Caine climb off of Stinger, aching for it to be different, wanting so badly. When Stinger sat up, she grabbed at his shirt and just about fell across him as she turned into his body, kissing him. Just like she thought, there was a faint scratch, not like Caine’s soft beard, but the niceness of the morning had turned into something else, and Stinger devoured her, drinking in her kiss like he was a dying man in search of water.

When they finally broke away, Caine let out a startled laugh at their faces, then dug around in the pockets of his combat trousers. This time, when he passed her a branded face cream, she knew there would be some kind of scrub to heal up.

‘This is amazing,’ she said happily, feeling fresher than ever. Stinger smiled at her enthusiasm, that touch of awe in his eyes waking up. Jupiter decided to ignore it. She kissed him again, then kissed Caine for good measure before she changed, wondering if Advocate Bob had any recommendations for boutiques.

With the guys lounging on the bed, Caine playing dirty by taking his shirt off to distract her, she took a bit longer than she would have liked to get dressed and presentable—but eventually, she made her way to the captain’s office, guided by a youthful crocodile splice.

‘Hey,’ she greeted Captain Tsing, taking a seat at her direction. She noted the tea set already laid out on the desk, along with a few cakes and vegetable-type snacks, but waited for Tsing before reaching out.

‘Good morning, Lady Jupiter. Yesterday, in the early hours of the cycle,’ Tsing started, telling Jupiter exactly how much time had passed and why she was so damn hungry, ‘you expressed a profound misunderstanding which I seek to correct. First, however, help yourself to my table.’

‘Thank-you,’ Jupiter expressed, the interaction causing herself to remember something. ‘Is this a cultural thing? Titus asked me to join him for a meal, or his secretary did. Asked for Seraphi his mom specifically when I said no; she made a point about him being gracious.’ Jupiter failed to express that it was Bob’s fault.

Tsing nodded either way, sipping her tea. ‘It is. As you have learned, much of the Verse lives and breathes for respect of the genetic sciences. A different, but no less respected tradition, is that of legacy and the respect generated from honouring your elders. I have come to understand that in our relationship, professional though it might be, I have taught you some crucial aspects of both yourself and your station. I will endeavour to pass on what I know, if only so you will do good with what you learn, Miss Jones.’

‘You definitely have—and I will,’ Jupiter agreed, trying the tea. She hummed happily when she realised it tasted like cinnamon.

‘The invitation by Lord Titus, though through a second party and most likely, without his knowledge, is no less valid. You are his mother reborn, of course, but he is gracious in receiving you, implying there has been some kind of standing meal Seraphi has long since stopped attending…for obvious reasons. He is not grateful,’ Tsing specified, ‘which is the more proper invite. His graciousness is a public reminder that he still holds standing, not only as himself, but as himself as your son.’

‘Two separate things,’ Jupiter muttered, thinking of herself, Jupiter and herself, Seraphi. The woman was an idea to her. A gross, capitalist-shaped idea with her face and a bunch of children who didn’t know how to not be evil megalomaniacs. Seraphi, the thing—versus Jupiter Jones, the person.

‘Yes. Families act quite differently in private, do they not?’ Tsing sipped her tea, and Jupiter followed suit. They drank for a little while, Jupiter eventually asking her which foodstuff was what. Tsing was far more descriptive in her assessment of each that Jupiter expected, even going as far as to compare them to Earth foods.

‘I did my research,’ she dismissed when Jupiter tried to thank her. ‘You’ll be happy to know that Lord Titus did send across the pardons by Contract Adjudicator, as requested, and while he still has the capacity to request their return until your negotiations are finished, Caine Wise and Stinger Apini are legally in the clear. The pardons included access to the Skyjacker unit, if they wished to rejoin the Legion, but I thought it may be something to sit on until Lord Titus’ grasp on them has…disappeared.’

‘Through negotiations,’ Jupiter winced, knowing she’d already forgotten some of the things she’d said to Famulus. She’d made sure to mention the pardons, but knew she couldn’t just demand them outright. Her problem now was figuring out what he wanted.

Tsing dipped her head. ‘It was an act of good faith to send them at all. Yes, you’ll have to exchange something, and he will certainly try to dupe you into some scheme in return.’ When Jupiter went to say something snarky back, the captain raised her finger. ‘Do not underestimate him. The Will of Seraphi Abrasax has not been accessed yet, but it will be. The Abrasax siblings have already been sent a notification of the retracted Will. You need lawyers. Good lawyers. And a plan on what you are willing to give them back. I know that Princess Kalique’s alcázar was a death gift from Seraphi, even if she already owned the planet.’

Jupiter recalled the copy of the old Will she had on a sheeve. ‘I’ll look at a list and get some lawyers.’

The captain picked up a cucumber-like pear Jupiter had already tried and decided was the vilest thing in the Verse. ‘RegenX. You are the industry, and you’ll certainly have stockpiles. What is done is done—there’s no use crying over what’s already made, but if I might be so bold, Your Majesty, I have a feeling you’ll have objections to the method of harvesting the raw product for distillation.’

‘Is this the misunderstanding you thought I had?’ Jupiter frowned for the first time, setting down her tea. Tsing ate her cucumber-pear, looked her in the eye, then told her it straight.

‘There is no mineral or gas that makes RegenX. It isn’t the planets that are harvested: it is its occupants. I hope you’ll forgive me for telling you one day. RegenX and all products of its like, Miss Jones, are made from Humans.’

Chapter Text

She thinks she cried for an hour. Maybe two. She felt stupid; she felt belittled and betrayed. Caine and Stinger knew what Jupiter was asking, when she was curious and naive, and didn’t have the heart to tell her. Fuck—she had used RegenX. Fuck what Captain Tsing’s what’s done is done. Fuck the Verse and fuck all the immortal, creepy fuckers who harvested whole planets full of people for eternal youth.

How was she meant to stop that?

How was she meant to stare other Entitled in the eye and not see the monsters hiding beneath their skin?

How?

How?

And then she finally thought of a reason why she could stand it. Why people could look away and think, what’s done is done—and that reason was Kiza.

Kiza, with her quiet life on Earth and genetic bug, all temporarily fixed in a burning bath of military-grade RegenX. What a life. What a curse. Either die slowly, in increasing agony as your own body shuts down, or pretend you’re going to fight for the Verse in their Eternal Legion in penance for stretching out that pretty young life of yours a few more decades.

Because why not?

Why die, when it wouldn’t mean a single thing?

It wasn’t even just that. Or it was exactly that. Jupiter had been thinking about changing Class like it was all in a day’s work, but in actuality, it was a cheat to rise high in a classist galactic society that ran on genocide. She had no idea the power she controlled, now. No sense of her own worth. The Entitled held all the power in the Verse, while the rest of the Classes burned—but if you took away what little the poor had in protest of its creation, if you gave up your rights for moral reasons, the rich would still be rich. Worse. They’d get richer. They built the system, and for anyone who didn’t just so happen to be a Recurrence, there was no way of climbing to the top to change it.

So she only cried an hour or two, and Jupiter thought that if she was going to change the universe like people clearly wanted her to, however subtly, she had to say no when Captain Tsing offered her a special facial cleanser meant to clear away her tears. Because it was blue. Because it was a RegenX product—and because the Aegis crew should see her cry, just once.

She wanted her mother.

Unfortunately, Jupiter couldn’t go back to see her mother, as she had to hire a household’s worth of staff, or figure out if she already had a household somewhere out there in the starry Verse. Because if she wanted lawyers, she needed people who knew where to get lawyers, and to get those people, she needed a seneschal and a major-domo and a secretary—god, she needed a secretary ASAP, because Captain Tsing was already blocking half a thousand attempts at contacting her, including direct calls from the Abrasax siblings themselves.

It was exhausting, and she hadn’t even started yet.

‘Kiza isn’t trained for any of this,’ Stinger made sure to tell her, when she finally updated them on her next few priorities now her legal identity crisis was over and done with. Which was frankly a little disappointing, but if Kiza was happy with her little Deputy Marshall of Earth badge, and was willing to check in on her family every little bit, then no news was good news, in her opinion.

Caine had a different thought track. ‘Splicers Guild will have trained servants made just for this stuff. They’d be new, though—none of them would have contacts in the industries that weren’t sponsoring their Splicer. I know a few old buddies who’re drifting, maybe looking for work as Royal Guards…’

‘Legion Commissioner,’ Jupiter immediately replied, before diving for her stack of sheeves. When she got the right one, she passed it over to Caine, who started reading eagerly. ‘I’ve been so focused on Entitled Law, but the guy at Seals and Signets said I can get a Royal Guard appointment.’

‘…the best of the best.’ Caine said under his breath, staring at the sheeve like it was out to get him. He breathed in through his nose, then deliberately turned to Jupiter and demanded, ‘Assign me to Max. I’d look after her, and anyone assigned to her watch would answer to me.’

My ovaries, shit. Jupiter stared, then decided to share what Tsing had told her to keep quiet. Families acted different in private, right? ‘The pardons came with your Legion invites, or whatever you asked for. Skyjacker unit, wings…the problem with the pardons is that Titus has strings to them. Does that change your mind?’

Caine stared blankly at her. Stinger, from where he’d nosied over to her desk, looked up deliberately to stare at her.

‘No,’ Caine eventually said, shoulders relaxing—a tension leaving them in place of a swagger Jupiter hadn’t known existed without the presence of Sexy Caine. ‘With your permission, Your Majesty, I’ll take back my Legion Commission at the appropriate time, with the understanding that I’ll have veto control on whatever Royal Guards the Legion assigns to your person.’

‘Don’t take that offer,’ snapped Stinger instantly. He pointed at Caine. ‘This is why you never made Commander. You’re overstepping. You get your wings back, and there’s no way in hell you’d ever allow her guard to be anyone but Skyjackers. You wouldn’t trust anyone else.’ While Caine growled at the accusation, Jupiter understood where Stinger was coming from.

‘No,’ she agreed. ‘That’s not happening. If you want your Legion Commission back, and you want to work under me, I’ll make it happen. But you’ll work for it. I’ll take your promise to protect Max, easy, but…but no.’ And Jupiter finally remembered how he reacted when he first discovered she was a Recurrence.

His answer hadn’t been to treat her like he had been, but to stay silent and still. Like he didn’t like what he saw—or expected her to change, and be the monster every Entitled seemed to be. It took laughter and a kiss, before he fucked her in the cockpit of a crappy spaceship before he remembered who she was. Before he respected her again. What would have happened to them, if they hadn’t already been so entwined? It was still early days. She might make an irreversible mistake today, or tomorrow, and Caine could change his mind.

(Jupiter was already in love with him.)

Her heart sunk. She was crushing so hard on this man—and it was a crush, it was definitely a crush—and was attracted to every part of his body, but she was still learning him, and him, her. If he left, there would be nothing she could do to stop him. Nothing she could say to make him remain with her.

‘Good choice,’ Stinger muttered, coming up behind her and oh-so-casually looping an arm around her waist. Jupiter felt a faint thrill of delight at his touch, but she still worried for Caine, up until he petulantly rolled his eyes and joined them in a three way hug. Jupiter marvelled at her luck.

‘I like having you both to go to advice for,’ she admitted.

‘And we like having lives that aren’t just…meaningless.’ Caine reached to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘You’re right about needing people, though. I’ll put out the word to our Legion buddies about getting a contract with you, if they can, and Stinger can figure out the technical aspects of integrating them. He’s good at that.’

‘Yes, I am,’ Stinger assured her. ‘Bring up my name in conversation, and you’ll see a whole battalion go quiet. It’s quite the sight, when you’re undercover in said battalion as a joke—my alias got more respect for name-dropping the famed Commander Apini than he ever did for his shooting skills.’

Curious, Jupiter asked, ‘Why were you undercover?’

‘Looking for other folks undercover. Turned out that there were actual spies in there, too, but it was good practice for my team,’ he shuddered dramatically. ‘Shapeshifters. Honestly, I don’t know why we keep them, sometimes.’

Stinger got knocked over the head by Caine for that, before it developed into a friendly fist-fight that Jupiter swiftly stepped back from, looking at all the sheeves on her desk. Five minutes in, her head already hurt, but she’d found the household she was looking for. Lucky for Jupiter’s head, her best distraction started calling out from her place in the centre of their bed, and Jupiter let Max babble at her—babbling right back in Russian, when she could get a word in—before feeding her. It didn’t escape her notice how distracted it made her two sparring guy-friends.

‘Our spacemen are silly, aren’t they?’ She spoke to Max, part of her wishing Caine wouldn’t hear it so she could have a private moment with her baby. It had been so long since she’d been truly alone. Talking to Max about her feelings used to be something she did a lot, back on Earth. Stroking her little nose, Jupiter settled in to watch Max quiet down, wishing she had something to eat, too.

A body joined her on the bed eventually, splice-magnet that they were when combined, and Caine casually started scrolling through his handheld computer. Stinger wasn’t so charmed, but he did position the desk chair just so as he read through some of the sheeves on her desk.

‘What are some normal things that everyone would have?’ Jupiter asked them.

‘Link-up,’ said Caine promptly, ‘and a comp-set. It’s this thing, plus a neural transmitter-’ he tapped his military-grade linking system ‘-though I have this, instead. Captain Tsing has a bunch of Aegis-grade link ports in her cheek, which are a bit more normal. There’s a whole grade of bounty hunters, like the one on Earth with the cybernetic eye. It was constantly streaming information. Your average Citizen will have a plug-in transmitter, so they can hook up to any port, though you get viruses like that without a neuro-hex to stop them.’

‘Okay—what else?’

Caine grunted. ‘I’m not the one to ask. Stinger lived a freer life than I did.’

As if on cue, Stinger started reciting a list. ‘Link-up. Comp-set. ISID. Regional VLA that isn’t actually a VLA. Debts account with the Ministry, for accruing debts and contract credit. Either a batch number and cohort, if you’re a splice, or your registered Clanship. Most people have an account with the Intergalactic Bank of Trade or have access to someone who does. Tax ID Number.’ He twirled on the chair, legs outstretched. ‘A retired Legionnaire with more than three commendations get to keep their weapons after discharge, but a Special Forces grunt like Caine gets their whole kit—wings and all, if they’re that good.’

‘Just three?’ Caine was the incredulous one. ‘I thought it was ten!’

‘Ten for you, knucklehead.’ Stinger rolled his eyes, but he was poking fun. Jupiter laughed a little at Caine’s face, wincing a little as Max decided to chow down.

‘Anyone not Entitled is expected to get on with life, but those are the main things. You lot are different,’ said the bee splice, giving Max the tiniest of frowns for discomforting her mother. ‘Obviously, you’ve got access to a lot more land and planetary real estate. The big thing that separates Entitled from the rest, is that you keep splices. And by keep, I don’t always mean under contract.’

Her gut began to curdle. ‘Like what, then?’

‘Remember what we said about Levies—Class Three Levied Citizens,’ Caine recited. He took Jupiter’s hand when she reached for him. ‘We’re called that for a reason. We’re levies. Forcibly made to work. Some of it’s voluntary, or a trade of some kind, like working for the Legion or doing contractual work for the highest bidder…but splices are born with debt to their names. Debt for being born, and not having the audacity to be bought straight out the vat. All splices are educated, and how well you do in training creates more value for you to pay back.’

‘A splice,’ said Stinger, ‘is bought using two kinds of currency. Debt—and contract. An Entitled might buy an entire factory’s worth of working splice and those splice will work off their contract—but they still have debt, and that debt is owned by the Entitled that paid for them. They owe that Entitled money…and so, they can exchange it. The Debt Department is built on exchanging debt and contracts to keep splice working, until their debts are fulfilled.’

‘Wait, but why not just have single contracts?’ Jupiter frowned, struggling to see the point. ‘Then couldn’t a splice just…fulfil the contract?’

‘They could—some richer Class Two’s do that, when they own their own businesses. The problem is, even the Verse knows people are expensive. Splice, for all we aren’t fully human, can still imitate that reflection if we try. You wouldn’t know Kiza was more bee than human, till you opened her up.’ Stinger leant forwards in his chair, elbows on his knees. ‘So what happens is an Entitled will own the debt, and they’ll sub-contract their splices out to the poor masses. And some of those splices? Well, you’ve seen Caine. Legion’s finest. You put him out in public, he could easily be the most valuable person in the city. Training as a lad made his value soar, so his debt is higher than most other splices in the Verse. That’s how you get Legion hunters like him doing Titus Abrasax’s dirty work. The Legion still owns his debt—owns mine, too—but Titus Abrasax bought a piece of each, so we’re debt-bound to see it out.’

‘Ugh, that’s so gross. Like if banks created slavery.’

‘It’s unfair, but it’s life,’ Caine agreed, before leaning over to look down at Max in her arms. ‘She always falls asleep after eating. When does that stop?’

‘When I stop her from taking naps, after,’ replied Jupiter, ‘and yes: that is as horrifying as it sounds. She’s a happy baby and I am not looking forwards to her discovering anger.’

‘She got plenty angry with me,’ Caine muttered, a little put-off. Jupiter rankled at the bit.

‘How?’ She demanded. ‘Why?’

‘Well,’ Caine frowned, before making a silly face when the subject of their conversation glanced at him, clearly knowing better not to make her upset. ‘She wanted you and you weren’t there. I was a poor substitute.’

‘Longest I’ve been away from her in a while,’ the young woman said, wondering how her family on Earth was doing. Her mother had to be scared out of her mind—they all had to be. She blinked rapidly at the thought of them being upset. She’d never been away from them so long, not once. Before she could start crying, she asked Stinger, ‘Is there anything I can do for my family? So they won’t worry about me.’

‘There’s not much, Your Majesty. I’m sorry we can’t do more, unless you want Kiza to do something drastic to cover up your disappearance.’

It hit her hard. ‘I am coming home, just-’ the tears built up in her eyes ‘-just not right now. It’s only been a few days.’

‘We’re on the edge of what the Keepers can change,’ said Caine, almost warningly. Like they always did, Caine and Stinger looked at each other, communicating silently in front of Jupiter without telling her anything about what they were talking about. It was slightly frustrating, and she wondered if it was how Katherine felt when she and her mother spoke Russian in front of her.

‘Jupiter,’ Stinger caught her attention purely by the use of her name. ‘We can manipulate their memories, but it would have to be something close to the truth. You’d have disappeared with only a single phone call home about your fake Las Vegas wedding-’ Jupiter snorted unexpectedly at the reminder of her cover story coming from the mouth of her Lord Consort ‘-and you wouldn’t have come back in that time. If you record a voicemail or three, we can have the Keepers insert it into their phones, and have various members of your family remember receiving them and, well…’

‘Freaking out.’

‘Well, yes. Freaking out quietly, at least.’ Stinger inclined his head. ‘And postcards. We’ve actually got some from the last move, so it shouldn’t be too hard for you to write something on a comp and have Kiza print it on.’

‘I get to write about my fake Las Vegas wedding and my fake honeymoon on postcards?’

‘And the road-trip,’ added Caine, like he knew jack shit about Earth. Still. He was right.

Jupiter sighed, looking at the now-sleeping baby in her arms, milk and drool spilling out of her mouth. Tilting her upwards, she patted her back a few times, her little ragdoll girl not fussing or bothering to open her eyes as Stinger—‘Here, let me get her.’—picked her up for the first time and held her for a few minutes at the end of the bed.

‘Looking good, old man,’ said Caine.

Jupiter immediately whispered, ‘Ditto,’ and wondered if they all just had baby fever. Their third gave them both a look that should have made them feel ashamed, but Jupiter was pretty sure both she and Caine were on the same page here.

Stinger looked gorgeous with a baby in his arms.

Chapter Text

There were a lot of nice numbers in the universe. Sorry, the Verse.

Aleksa never had a favourite number, but she always encouraged Jupiter to learn more digits of Pi so she could find her favourite sequence of three. Jupiter—who’d appreciated mathematics, but never found her mother’s joy in it—proudly decided her favourite digits of pie were nine-seven-nine, because that was where she could memorise up to. The Jupiter Jones who was also Seraphi couldn’t recite quite up to nine-seven-nine anymore, but she did get about ten numbers in before getting lost. It was only something she did when she was a level of bored that not even the Hall of Titles could encourage.

Anyway. There were a lot of nice numbers. Right now, Jupiter liked twenty-six the best, because that was how many she’d managed to cut down to from the total of two hundred and eleven members of Seraphi’s personal staff. They’d been living in the lap of luxury for years, most of them legally squatting in Seraphi’s flying alcázar—a massive golden zeppelin that circuited the equator of a planet of waterfalls, called Palima—in exchange for upkeep of the premises. Their budget was horrendous. And no, the household hadn’t bother supplementing their income with tourism, because why would they? The alcázar was a monstrosity that could have fit the entire city of Chicago inside, but the planet itself was rife with fauna and flora, dazzling visitors with its natural formations, which were only interrupted by the zeppelin’s zipline track, where a golden chain hooked to the nose pulled the behemoth in the right direction. There were seasons based around its coming, Jupiter had been told.

‘You are the staff I’ve selected to remain,’ Jupiter told the twenty-six, trying not to seem too commanding. She gestured to Lieutenant Nesh, Tsing’s designated representative. ‘If any of you are having second thoughts, the Aegis are willing to take you wherever you wish. Your remaining debts to Seraphi are rendered null and void for your years of service, with complimentary credits.’

‘We heard you,’ the chamberlain, a graceful swan splice called Blanchette, confirmed on their behalf. ‘Our loyalty to Her Ladyships knows no end, and we are honoured by your presence.’

‘Good. I need a trustworthy staff,’ Jupiter stated, pinning her hopes on their fanaticism not being laced with poison.

Blanchette’s assistant, a youthful man all in red, looking at her outfit in barely-veiled disgust. ‘Most definitely, Your Majesty.’

‘Keep it polite,’ Nesh cut in, before stepping forwards to bow perfunctorily to Jupiter, elephant features flapping. ‘Your Majesty, if that is all, I will ask for your remaining staff to be delivered to the alcázar. Our ship will leave your airspace immediately after.’

‘I hope to see you again, Lieutenant,’ Jupiter said warmly, only feeling a little sad to be leaving the crew of the LQ-4090 behind. They’d been her personal taxi and hotel for over a week, now. Nesh gave her a pleased nod in return before leaving, Caine at her back gnashing his teeth impatiently for the arrival of their loved ones. To the new staff, she said, ‘For the next few days, the alcázar will be on a communications blackout. Nothing goes in or out, except messages meant for Deputy Marshall Kiza Apini in the Sol System. I haven’t told anyone this, so should Kiza be bombarded by calls, I’ll know it was one of you who snitched.’

She watched the whispers fly between them, this team who’d known each other centuries. Eventually, who was supposed to be her seneschal, a raven splice with wings to match, stepped forwards with a low bow. Jupiter couldn’t quite remember his name…

‘Your Majesty, what if there is an emergency? Have your plans changed?’

Knew it. ‘Bring any and all plans to me for review. I understand we lost our resident droid controller, so until we get a new one, please consider them a security risk. My Chief of Security will be arriving momentarily.’

‘Already here, love.’

Twisting her head back, Jupiter grinned at the sight of Max wriggling in his arms, refusing to be held properly—or at all—in her new silk onesie. It was a gift from the crew of the Aegis, the Aegis Corps logo on the soles of her feet and inverted lapel pocket. Jupiter let out a noise of alarm as she overreached at the sight of Jupiter and nearly fell out of Stinger’s arms.

‘Jesus Christ,’ she blurted out.

‘I know,’ Stinger said, haggard and, to Jupiter’s surprise, very angry. ‘It’s only been a single morning and I nearly dropped her four times already. It’s the bloody suit. I’m putting her old one back on.’

Reaching for her baby, Jupiter ignored the titters of her household to take Max into her arms, knowing immediately that a major part of Stinger’s problem would have been Max’s wriggling.

‘Former-Commander of the Legionnaire Skyjackers, Lord Consort Stinger Apini of the Jones Dynasty,’ she introduced him, before making a face at Max that set her giggling. ‘And Princess Maxine Kiszka, also of the Jones Dynasty. Stinger and Caine are very protective of her, and I’d rather we kept her existence as quiet as we can manage.’

‘Your Majesty,’ Blanchette knelt, skirt flaring on the ground as her seneschal—Corvhael! His name was Corvhael!—rushed to join her, the rest of the staff following in a wave. ‘Our sincerest apologies, an apartment shall be readied at once!’

‘No need,’ Stinger shook his head, using his comp to float over the single crate of belongings they’d accumulated between the three of them, and Max’s space cot. ‘She stays with one of us at all times. Your Majesty—I got confirmation from the Legion Commissioner that they’ve got a squad enroute to Palima.’

‘Blackout starts when you’re ready,’ she told him. Stinger nodded, looking to the kneeling household staff.

‘Rise,’ he ordered, waiting until they had all risen before explaining, as she had, ‘We’ll be completely offline for three and a half cycles, starting now. We’ll keep primary residence in the nearest outfitted apartment, and no, not one Her Ladyship is officially meant to sleep in. You know this place better than me. I don’t trust how fast the droid controller scarpered, and you shouldn’t either—plus, I’m going to be playing around with the security systems. If they go wrong because you fucks have changed Seraphi’s authorisation codes…’ He looked over all of them with a death glare, and Jupiter swallowed at the sight of the infamous commander he claimed to be. ‘Use your brains and tell me: where’s an apartment in this golden shit that’s safe for Her Ladyship and her daughter?’

An hour later, Stinger came back to where Caine and Jupiter had remained with Max, and half the household, and immediately reached for Jupiter’s hand. She clutched it right back, immediately worried.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ He grimaced. ‘Or maybe a lot. It might just be best to show you,’ he said, before noticing the changed Max in her old Earth polar-bear onesie where she was tied to Caine’s chest, playing with a toy Sargon that the lycantant had gotten her during Jupiter’s absence. ‘Much better. Not a slip risk now, are you, darling?’

‘You’re not worrying me at all,’ Jupiter replied to his comment sarcastically, letting him lead her away from the filigreed lounge she’d picked to host the interviews for her household, to a decadent hover-carriage disguised from the outside as a simple, yet elegant loading craft. Jupiter knew that her Palima alcázar had ten hovercrafts, all identical, as they were meant to disguise where Seraphi was coming and going inside of her own home, for fear of assassins and treachery. It kind of gave Jupiter some perspective on how much danger the Entitled woman had expected throughout her life.

The hover-carriage eventually halted, and Jupiter was led out by Stinger, guarding her front as Caine followed shortly behind with Max, joining the small huddle made by her household. Even knowing there shouldn’t be anyone else on board, the way Stinger and Caine treated her security was overwhelming to the point where Jupiter was genuinely developing a sense of paranoia; Caine had all but assured her when she mentioned it that Earth was right to say, it’s not paranoia when they’re really out to get you.

To think, her Royal Guard hadn’t even arrived, yet.

The apartment itself—as described by Blanchette—was meant for a Priestess of Divine Genetics. It used to be home to Kalique Abrasax herself as an acolyte, in the years before she left the priesthood; the apartment was most definitely humble for an Entitled, despite being a very luxurious five-room suite, RegenX pool and all. Blanchette had called the design modest, compared to the last priestess who took up residence there.

‘You’ll be in here,’ Stinger indicated to the main bedroom, grimacing as he did. ‘I haven’t touched anything, but you should see it, before we clear everything out.’

‘What…’ Jupiter went to ask, only to open the door and see what he meant.

Inside was a bedroom. It was a unique room, with an oval bed in the centre covered in dozens of dark red pillows and blue sheets, with some kind of glowing blue lights floating around in the centre like a spotlight; the walls, however, were covered in rough, hand-painted murals of women. They weren’t Jupiter, all of them strangers—but each mural was of the same thing: two women who looked exactly the same.

‘Genetic recurrence is a scientific fact. Prophecy is not.’ Stinger said, moving to the other side of the room to draw the curtain which hid the back wall. When he did, the room blazed with yellow light. And then she saw it. The writings.

‘Ravings,’ muttered Blanchette, Jupiter remembering what she said about this room being Kalique’s.

‘Out,’ she ordered them, feeling empathy for the girl who Seraphi had loved. It was shocking to see—and was probably the most exciting thing that had happened to her new household in thousands of years. ‘Get out!’ She snapped, and only Blanchette looked back as they scurried out of the room like mice. Slowly, the chamberlain nodded in understanding.

‘I will quiet them,’ promised the swan splice.

Left with only Caine, Stinger and Max, Jupiter forced herself to look at the writings on the panes of glass overlooking Palima. Stepping forwards, she read the larger ones first: Classical Orous, that said 3.103 Genetic Sight: I see infinite futures, I see two destinies always entwining. Smaller sentences were more fractured, words mashed together to make incomprehensible gibberish, and some were just swirls that could have been letters once. Most of the writing was in black, but paints, cracked and faded, in all the colours used on the walls, wrote many of the smaller and more lyrical verses. Jupiter put her hand up to trace one such verse that seemed brighter than all the others.

‘It was not or nor shall be different since it is now, all at once, one and continuous,’ she recited. Something was familiar about that phrase, something in Jupiter unable to quite wrap her head around the feeling.

‘Is she mad, or just the normal level of Entitled-delusional?’ Caine queried, remarkably clear-headed. He sat down on a pale green chaise against the wall, and he must have knocked something, because the next thing Jupiter knew, they were in the middle of an unfolding hologram.

Jupiter- no, Seraphi, old and grey, was speaking to a cloud of dark curls and bare feet hidden beneath the bed cushions, sat on a hoverchair covered in living flowers.

‘You must not think too much on it. Everything ends.’

‘More time, Mother—I need you! My thoughts go round and round in an endless cycle, and I cannot bear it, not without you by my side,’ said the girl in the bed, her head popping up, red-faced and distraught. She was beautiful. Youthful. Was this Kalique? ‘You are my mother. You cannot leave me.’

‘It’s a cycle, my girl. I will die and I shall be happier for it.’

‘But you will leave me with this grief forever more-’

‘Kalique,’ Seraphi interrupted her daughter, confirming her theory. It was so strange for Jupiter to see herself so old and decrepit. When Seraphi went to get up from her hoverchair, Kalique scrambled with all the energy of a young doe to her mother’s side, ordering her to sit, to rest and be well.

Seraphi reached for Kalique as she was led back down, cupping her face with fragile hands. ‘My most precious bloom in an eternal garden. You take your time, my girl, and let your grief fade.’

‘I will never stop, Mother,’ Kalique shook her head, kneeling to burrow her face in her mother’s lap. She clutched at Seraphi’s dress. ‘Do you understand, Mother? I will never stop trying to find you again. And if I do—when I do—my grief will be awoken once more from where you wish me to put it to rest. All my life, you have never made secret of your hatred for time…but, oh, why did you have to hate all the time we had together-’

‘I would never. Shut that fool mouth, precious girl. Everything ends, and I don’t enjoy life anymore. And perhaps I am cowardly in this,’ said Seraphi, and Jupiter leaned in, drinking in every word she had to say. ‘But I want to die before you do, my most precious child. This faith of yours has ruined you. Leave it behind. I am not on my last set of centuries quite yet, but I shall speak for both of us when I say: I would rather pass than live to see my own child take her life.’

‘Then you are a coward, Mother. After all I have lost…and dreadfully, it shall only make me miss you more.’

‘Dreadfully, indeed.’

Kalique laughed and cried, then looked up into Seraphi’s wizened face and pleaded, like a child, ‘Call me yours again?’

Seraphi smiled at her, all love of a mother to her daughter. Jupiter saw herself and Max, reflected in a recording ten thousand years old, and didn’t understand the idea she held of her anymore.

‘My most precious bloom.’