Marcy let out a blood-curdling scream. I did too. As many times as I’d see them die, I wasn’t getting used to it happening so suddenly. Or violently. That brain splatter alone was going to fuel nightmares for a while.

  “Please, tell your concubine to calm down,” said Foollegg, her gaze still riveted on Dany. “We mean you no harm.”

  “Concubine?” Marcy’s eyes went so wide they rivaled Foollegg’s.

  “We don’t have time for this. Put them in the room until Director Stook is ready.”

  The room was just a room: six sides, no windows, and a single door, with a turtle sitting in the very center.

  Marcy and I stared at it. I’m not even sure how much time passed until she sneezed—spaceship air conditioning was just as bad as Florida’s—breaking us both out of our trance. It was only then I realized were alone, except for Zander and Blayde, who were unceremoniously piled in a corner like a couple of lifeless dolls, staring at us with wide, open eyes. The gaping holes in their foreheads were closing oh-so slowly.

  “Where’s Dany?” asked Marcy.

  I wished I had an answer for her. All I knew was the reptile had stolen precious time.

  “Don’t look at the turtle,” I said as assertively as I could muster.

  “I think it’s a tortoise?”

  “In all honesty, I don’t think it’s either. It’s probably not from Earth.”

  “It’s giving me the creeps.”

  “Same.”

  We kept our backs to it to avoid any more unforeseen trances. Instead, we stared at my space buds as their skin knit itself back together. It’s a pretty fascinating process when you have the time to fully appreciate it.

  There was no way to avoid an awkward situation, so I leapt into it, which was becoming a signature move of mine. “Um, Dany...?”

  “Oh, come on,” Marcy scoffed. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

  “Know what, specifically?”

  She rolled her eyes. “That aliens exist, that Earth is a tourist hotspot, who I married, and so on. That stuff.”

  “Best two out of three?”

  “Which two?”

  “I’m up to date on the alien stuff. Just not Dany’s stuff.”

  “I thought Zander told you?”

  “Told her what?” Zander’s eyes blinked open, and he rolled out from under his sister’s corpse, who evidently wasn’t a corpse anymore, since she let out a gasp as she fell off him. “Oops, sorry.”

  “You knew?” I asked.

  “Knew what?”

  “Whatever there is to know about Dany!”

  “Oh, you mean Danirshna?” Blayde pushed herself to her feet. “Frash, Zander, they have a riveting tortoise.”

  “I told you it’s a tortoise,” Marcy said to me, smugly.

  “Well, you could have told me a whole lot of things!” My head was spinning. It wasn’t the right moment to get mad, but I had a right to be pissed. I’m Marcy’s BFF. I was at her wedding, and yet I’m the last one to know she married into interstellar royalty? At least this explained a lot about those cousins. This was way too much information for one night, and I hadn’t had anywhere near enough beer for this. That, and staring into the tortoise’s eyes for so long had given me a hangover.

  “When did we have the time? You were off on an intergalactic adventure for the past three years!”

  “Will someone deal with the frashing tortoise?” said Blayde.

  “It’s fine, I’ll get it.” Zander tossed his coat over the small reptile, which let out a mournful croak. Noting my confusion, he launched into explanation. “Riveting tortoises evolved to be so incredibly fascinating no predator can look away. The Alliance probably figured out it could keep us entranced. Can’t jump away if we’re staring at a riveting tortoise. Anyway, where are we, what are we doing here, and how do we get out? As much as I’d love for us all to catch up, doing so in an Alliance stronghold with a riveting tortoise is not my idea of a rewarding social gathering. And where’s Dany?”

  As if waiting for her Hollywood moment, Dany burst into the room and rushed straight for her wife. Foollegg followed, flanked by the man whose name my brain had only just processed: Director Stook. The last time I had seen him, he’d been vying for the glory of apprehending the siblings in the Great Terminal Manhunt. The door slid shut behind them, sinking back into the wall with a pneumatic hiss.

  “Did they hurt you?” asked Dany, and Marcy shook her head. They clutched each other’s hands like lifelines.

  “My liege.” Stook bowed dramatically to Dany. He beamed as brightly as the walls. “Where do we start? Finding the siblings mere days after their heinous regicide, about to strike at the next in line?”

  “Please,” said Blayde. “You think we’d still be here if we didn’t want to be? You killed us.”

  Stook’s smile dropped to a frown. Despite his nose being nothing more than slits, it looked like he had turned it up at us. “You look fine to me.”

  “Well, we got better.”

  Foollegg stifled a laugh. It was strange to see her so silent, standing on the sidelines rather than taking control. Knowing her, she was just biding her time, waiting for Stook to slip up.

  “If you truly thought we were a threat to your heir,” I said, my hands in fists at my side, “then you wouldn’t have us all in the same room together.”

  “She demanded it, actually.”

  We all turned to Dany, who took a deep, measured breath. But she said nothing.

  “What do you want from us, Stook?” I asked. “We were pardoned. I have the document to prove it, signed by the president’s own hand. Why would we have killed him?”

  I didn’t want to think of the repercussions his death would have on the Alliance—or on us. We’d gone through the gauntlet to get his pardon. All for nothing.

  “I believe you,” said Dany, nodding at me. “If you vouch for your friends, I believe them too.”

  “I trust them with my life,” I said, before it hit me that I was going to have to reword that. When was the right time to tell your bestie you’re immortal?

  Stook’s frown deepened. “We have witness testimony from the ball—”

  “What witnesses?” asked Dany. “I know your methods for gathering testimonials, and I trust these so-called criminals more than your inquisitors.”

  The ball. What had happened to Kork and Sekai after we’d left? They were supposed to be safe. The journalist had enough blackmail material to keep the president in line, after all. Picturing them undergoing the Alliance’s methods of questioning made me shudder.

  “My liege,” said Stook. “Please let us do our job.”

  “Then I pardon them!” Dany shouted. “As president, I hereby grant them pardons for all their crimes, proven and unproven. How’s that? Is that what you wanted me to say?”

  “Darling, they’re not worth it,” Marcy said, her voice barely a whisper as she clung to Dany’s arm. “We have to go.”

  “We need them,” said Dany. “I know this isn’t what we wanted. Not this soon. But we have to gather all the help we can get.”

  I felt like an extra in my own life, watching as history was being made. I could have left, should have left, but my body wouldn’t let me.

  Dany let go of Marcy’s hand and stepped forward to meet Stook head on. The director flinched, as did Foollegg, still silently flanking him. How could I not have seen it all this time? How could I have missed Dany’s regal disposition, the way we all bent and swayed to her? Unlike Zander and Blayde who conveyed a sense of strength, Dany radiated control. She was a leader, a peacemaker.

  My best friend’s wife was a—hopefully benevolent—alien overlord.

  Cute.

  “Make me your matriarch,” said Dany, staring Stook straight in the eye. “And heed my decree. By presidential order, the former criminals known as the Iron and the Sand are now our allies.”

  Zander’s eyes went round as the ship and wider still while Blayde full-on choked on her own saliva. Marcy’s face lost all color, but she said nothing.

  And me? I’m not sure what I did. I was still frozen, a distant observer, in dire need of popcorn.

  “Hello? Did we walk into a parallel universe here?” Foollegg burst into hysterics, sounding like my sink disposal gaining sentience. She folded over, clutching her gut, her spindly neck barely keeping her head up. “The siblings?Working for the Alliance? In what world...?”

  “With the Alliance,” said Dany. “It’s up to you. The Alliance needs a figurehead; they need hope. They need me. But I come with a price tag. I need them.”

  “Whatever for?” asked Stook. “What is so terrible we need to turn to terrorists?”

  “Is this about who burnt your spy to a crisp at the supermarket?” asked Zander.

  Ah. With all this back and forth about secret identities, I was half hoping they had forgotten about that. I sure hadn’t, not with the smell of burning flesh still seared into my nostrils. I didn’t want to be framed for another crime. Why did Zander even bring it up?

  “How did you know about that?” Stook whipped his head around. “Did that sound like a confession to anyone else?”

  “Confession, my lobe,” he said. “We saw one of your operatives publicly go up in flames. I assume that wasn’t intentional?”

  “It’s happening everywhere.” Foollegg lowered her head. “Almost four hundred years without a glitch, and this week alone we’ve had five combustions. If it wasn’t you, then who?”

  “This is bigger than the SHC system being sabotaged.” Dany took a deep breath, loud enough to silence us all. “You must be feeling it, too, haven’t you? The wrongness in the air.”

  Zander and Blayde exchanged pregnant looks that must have carried triplets. Their eyebrows began to dance, deep in private conversation.

  “Even if we do,” said Blayde, turning back to Dany, “it’s nothing new, kid. Trust me. We’ve been in this universe quite a long time, and inherent wrongness is about as much of a constant as we are.”

  “But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” Marcy stepped forward. “Every prey species in the universe has evolved to sense oncoming danger. And we’re all feeling it now. Something’s coming. Something toxic and growing stronger.”

  “I’ve been feeling it for months now,” said Dany. “Like...a claw is trying to get my soul. I’m afraid of the dark again. More than afraid; I’m terrified. I can’t eat. I get more and more tired every day. I worry one morning... I just won’t wake up. I thought I was going insane until we found the reports.”

  I shuddered at the memory of days, months I felt that crushing fatigue. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, and yet, it seemed, everyone would soon know how it felt too. Did everyone feel the deep-set dread that only medication could shake?

  “Something in the air and the space in between,” I agreed. This could explain all the scowls, the tension everywhere we went. “So, the bad vibes I’ve been feeling are actually severe psychological distress? I know the anxiety epidemic is a problem, but...”

  Blayde shot me a glare, and I closed my mouth. Maybe I shouldn’t be feeding into this. The Alliance was their enemy, after all. But what Marcy and Dany were describing, I used to feel most of the time, and it sounded like it was catching. They were right; it was bigger than all of us.

  “You wouldn’t be here if you were feeling this alone,” said Blayde. “Who else?”

  “It’s not just this world: It’s everyone. Everyone is on edge, until they snap. It’s not only in the air; it’s crossed the voids between planets, spreading like a disease. Like Sally said, it’s an epidemic but on a galactic scale. Maybe more.”

  “We’ve been seeing it all over Alliance worlds and trade partners,” said Foollegg, earning a brow-beaten frown from Stook. “It started months ago back on Pyrina and has been escalating ever since. We’ve been treating who we can with everything we have, but it’s more than a plague. The dread they feel is real. The rebels who attacked the ball? Those arrested admitted to having acted on some strange, self-preservation instinct, as if it would be the last thing they would ever do, and they would go out with a bang. Many physically succumb to it. There’s reports of people... giving in. Worlds have gone silent.”

  “Silent?” I gawked at the others, who all looked at their feet. “What do you mean?”

  Stook grabbed her arm, and she shook him off.

  “Then there was... a research outpost,” Foollegg continued, steadfast. “Out on the border of Consortium space. We missed the first signs: the messages that staff was losing motivation, that they wanted to come home, a general dissatisfaction that their mission was futile. But then we received requests for more security, that the tensions between sectors were growing at an alarming rate, or contradictory statements about missing resources. Then they called for the army. When we attempted to respond... nothing. They’d engaged their own self-destruct. Twenty thousand souls—gone. No survivors.”

  A shiver ran up my spine. The air in the room was heavy and cold, as if death stood beside us. What horror could have been so terrible it drove twenty thousand people to destroy themselves?

  “We first assumed this was a weapon from the Consortium,” said Stook, his frown deepening until his lips touched his chin. “But when we investigated the border, all we found was death. Whatever this is, it targets us all with impunity.”

  “And what is it?” asked Zander. “Are we engaging some old prey sense? Symptoms of a disease?”

  “Maybe, but I have a theory it doesn’t just affect organic life,” said Foollegg. “That the dormant SHC wasn’t awakened by sabotage... but by the influence of this Dread on our systems.”

  Stook was positively boiling now, his face redder than I’d ever seen it, which in his case was a gentle rose blush. I wasn’t a fan of Foollegg, but compared to Stook, she seemed to care much more about solving this problem rather than sweeping it under the rug until it was too late.

  “Please. We’ll do anything.” Dany dropped to her knees. “I’m not bringing you together to talk. I’m asking you for your help. No, I’m pleading. Help us. We’ll give you anything, anything you want. You want a planet? We’ll give you a planet. Just...help us.”

  “Uh, we can’t just—” Stook started.

  “Look,” said Zander. “We have no intention of doing anything for the Alliance. Why would we? You’ve tried to have us captured more times than I can count.”

  “Zander, please,” said Dany. “I’m giving up my independence to become a dictator to the fucked-up world I fled”—Stook scoffed at this—“just so that I can beg for your help. This is bigger than all of us.”

  Blayde threw up her hands. “You’re out of your frashing minds. If something is going to take over the Alliance, then let them do it. What’s that saying? The enemy of my enemy is my new bestie?”

  “I should be arresting you this instant, but I’m not,” said Stook. “Shouldn’t that be enough to prove our determination to solve this?”

  “You’re not arresting us because your liege told you not to,” Blayde scoffed. “All you have is a feeling. Dread, that’s it.”

  “I think we can work something out,” I said.

  I could sense all their eyes on me, but I didn’t care. The feeling Dany was describing was one I didn’t wish on my worst enemy, and now entire worlds were feeling it. Succumbing to it. Shattering. I had to do something.

  But I’d learned my lesson; I don’t work for free.

  “Sally,” Blayde seethed, “you don’t speak on our behalf.”

  “No. I’m speaking for me alone, and I’m speaking for my planet.” I turned to Stook. “We can’t have people bursting into flames all over the globe. I want the Agency to do its job: protect the pre-contact state of the Earth and defend the planet with everything you’ve got, as you should be doing already. In return, I’ll defend you. Fight for my planet, and I’m yours.”

  “Oh great,” said Blayde. “We give you immortality, and you sell yourself to the first buyer on the market?”

  “At the very least, negotiate with other interests,” said Zander.

  Blayde slammed a fist into his kidneys, earning her a grunt.

  “You made her immortal?” Marcy gasped.

  My gut dropped like a stone in the ocean. That was my secret to tell, and here it was, blurted out in the heat of the moment when I was far from ready to have this discussion. So many secrets thrown out tonight like they were nothing. My stomach was a wretched sea of bile.

  You really are poison.

  “It’s a very small price to pay for my help, really,” I continued, knowing it would cost me later. “Enforcing a border check on every visiting ship in exchange for finding out who’s lighting your people on fire—oh, and fighting anxiety incarnate.”

  Dany nodded at Stook. “Make it happen.”

  “Take your time,” said Zander. “Just know that we’ll only start helping once all this is down in writing. Contracts are our bread and butter, these days. We never did get paid for the whole Cross affair.”

  “It’s settled then,” said Dany. “In exchange for your help finding the source of the Dread, we’ll enforce the protection of Earth.” She turned back to Stook. “And I’ll return to Pyrina and take on the leadership of our glorious empire.”

  Despite Stook’s snarl, Foollegg was beaming. I could only imagine how grateful she was to not be acting director of the Agency right now.

  “You know,” I said, “sometimes I wish I could just once—just once—have a casual night with my friends without one of them suddenly telling me they’re an alien and that the universe needs saving. Next time, we’re doing a movie night, okay? And no weird stuff.”

  “You might have to wait a little for that,” said Dany. “But, yeah, movie night sounds fun.”

  “You had better solve this.” Marcy’s eyes finally landed on me, and I felt a shiver run through me, colder than the void of space. “Dany gave up everything for you. Everything. You don't know how much you cost us, you cost me. I gave up my family, my future here so that we could get your help. Don’t let us down, Sally Webber.”

  Tears welled up. Shit. I hadn't thought of her at all. Look in the dictionary, and you'd find me under the definition of “bad friend,” along with Brutus and Scar. I forced the tears back down.