Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation

  -- Khalil Gibran

  Luca made his way towards the refreshment tables, his eyes scanning the crowd, smiling and nodding. Don't stare too long. Don't look lost.

  The small plates being passed around were unlike anything he'd ever seen.

  Waiters carrying crystal platters held arrangements that defied description. Translucent spheres filled with swirling liquids that changed color as he watched. Small creatures, still alive, crawling lazily across beds of... moss. Definitely moss. Stacked towers of something gelatinous and iridescent, each layer a different shade of purple. Tiny eggs that pulsed with a faint inner light.

  Not exactly pigs in a blanket.

  A server drifted past with a tray of drinks. The glasses were tall and narrow, filled with liquid that shifted from amber to deep violet as it settled. Something moved inside one of them. Tentacles, maybe. Or fronds. Hard to tell.

  Luca took one before he could think better of it. When in Rome.

  The first sip hit him like nothing he'd experienced. Not beer or wine. This was smooth and cold, with a warmth that bloomed in his chest a second later. The taste was impossible to pin down. Citrus? Honey? Something floral that didn't exist on Earth?

  Okay. That's actually incredible.

  He took another sip, watching the tentacle-thing drift lazily near the bottom of his glass. It didn't seem to mind being there. Was it supposed to be eaten? He decided not to find out.

  "First time at one of Lord Velan's galas?"

  Luca turned. A young Varnathi male stood beside him, maybe his age, with soft rounded ears and a pointed nose that gave his face an almost fox-like quality. His fur was pale silver along his jawline, and his eyes were a warm copper color. He held his own drink with the casual ease of someone who'd been attending events like this since birth.

  "That obvious?" Luca asked.

  The Varnathi smiled. "You're staring at the veleth like it might bite you." He nodded toward the tentacle in Luca's glass. "It won't, by the way. They're bred docile. Adds texture to the aftertaste."

  Oh God, small talk. Somebody shoot me.

  "Good to know." Luca took another sip, deliberately casual. "I'm... new to the orbital. Business brought me here."

  "Ah, a trader?" The Varnathi extended a hand in a gesture that was close enough to human to feel natural. "Keth Morian. Import logistics."

  Luca shook it. "Luca. Acquisitions."

  Not technically a lie.

  Keth laughed. "Acquisitions. How delightfully vague. You'll fit right in here."

  They chatted for a few minutes, Keth pointing out guests. The elderly Varnathi in the shimmering blue robe was a shipping magnate. The cluster of young women near the music band were the daughters of senators. The severe-looking male by the window was someone Keth's father had warned him never to do business with.

  Luca tested the waters. "I heard there's been some trouble near the frontier. Military actions?"

  Keth waved a dismissive hand. "There's always trouble at the frontier. Pirates, separatists, the usual malcontents." He sipped his drink. "Nothing that affects us here. The Navy handles it."

  "Must be serious if they're deploying the Navy."

  "The Navy deploys for everything. They have to justify that budget somehow." Keth's tone suggested the topic was already boring him. "Honestly, half those frontier colonies wouldn't exist without subsidies. If they want to complain about taxation, let them fend for themselves."

  A woman nearby laughed at something, her jewelry catching the light. Somewhere, a string quartet played music that probably cost more per note than most people earned in a month.

  They have no idea. Or they don't care. Or maybe it hasn't happened yet.

  It was... normal. Surprisingly normal. These weren't monsters or mobs or System-generated obstacles. They were people. Rich, privileged people with petty concerns and social climbing and gossip, but people nonetheless.

  A memory. The System's pulling this from somewhere real.

  A young Varnathi woman brushed past him, her shoulder touching his as she reached for one of the pulsing eggs. She had dark fur with bronze undertones and large, expressive eyes that crinkled when she smiled.

  "Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "The serelith eggs are worth the reach. Have you tried them?"

  "Can't say I have."

  She picked one up between delicate fingers and held it toward him. "Bite through the shell. Let the warmth hit your tongue before you swallow."

  Luca took the egg. It was warm to the touch, almost body temperature. He bit down. The shell cracked like caramelized sugar, and something rich and savory flooded his mouth. It was like nothing he'd ever tasted. Earthy and bright at the same time.

  "Holy shit," he said before he could stop himself.

  Luca drifted through the crowd, sampling food he couldn't name and drinks that ranged from sublime to unsettling. He talked to merchants and minor nobles, artists and administrators. Each conversation was a small window into a civilization that had spread across what appeared to be hundreds of star systems, that had built worlds like the one glittering beyond the windows.

  Before the collapse. Before they lost it all.

  The thought sobered him. These people, these constructs, they were echoes of something that no longer existed. These ones laughed and gossiped and complained about the quality of the entertainment.

  What happened to you? What broke?

  He spotted her across the room.

  The woman with the host. Nisede, if he'd caught the name correctly from an overheard conversation. She stood near the windows now, alone for the first time since he'd arrived. The host had been pulled away by a cluster of older guests, leaving her gazing out at the planet below.

  Gray fur soft along her cheekbones. Golden eyes catching the light. Dark hair swept up in an elaborate style. And a tail that swayed lazily behind her, the tip flicking with what looked like boredom.

  There's my opening.

  Luca grabbed two fresh drinks from a passing server and made his way toward her.

  "You look like you could use one of these," he said, offering the glass.

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  She turned, and for a moment her expression was guarded. Then her golden eyes swept over him, head to toe, and something shifted. Interest, maybe. Or opportunity.

  She took the drink. "That obvious?"

  "Only to someone who's also counting down the minutes until they can leave."

  A hint of a smile. "And here I thought I was hiding it so well."

  "You were. I'm just very observant." He leaned against the window frame beside her, keeping a respectful distance. "I'm Luca."

  "Nisede." She sipped the drink, and her tail drifted closer, brushing against his leg. "You're new to these events. I'd remember you."

  "First time at one of Lord Velan's galas."

  "My father does love his galas." She said it with the weariness of someone who'd attended too many. "All these people pretending to care about charity when really they're here to be seen." Her tail curled around his calf, casual as breathing. "Present company excluded, I hope?"

  Okay. She's forward. Very forward.

  "I'm here for the food, mostly," Luca said. "And the drinks. And the view." He let his eyes linger on hers a beat too long. "The view's pretty spectacular."

  Her smile sharpened. "Flatterer."

  "Just observant."

  They talked. She complained about the expectations of being Lord Velan's daughter, the endless parade of suitors her father approved of, the gilded cage of her position. Her tail stayed wrapped around his leg, occasionally tightening when she made a point, loosening when she laughed.

  He pushed the thought aside. The mission was to get access to the vault. Nisede was connected to the host. This was the play.

  "My sister understood," Nisede said quietly, her voice dropping. "She was the only one who ever really understood what it was like."

  Luca caught the past tense. "Was?"

  Nisede's jaw tightened. "She left. Years ago. Chose a different path than the one our father wanted." She stared at her drink. "We haven't heard from her in... a long time."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. She made her choice." Nisede finished her drink in one long swallow. "I've made mine."

  Her tail unwound from his leg and she set the empty glass on the windowsill. When she turned back to him, there was something new in her expression. Decision.

  "This party is suffocating me," she said. "I have a suite upstairs. Private balcony with an actual view, not this overcrowded fishbowl." Her hand found his arm, fingers trailing down to his wrist. "Would you like to see it?"

  There it is.

  "Lead the way."

  She led him through corridors that grew quieter as they moved away from the ballroom. Past security checkpoints where the guards nodded at her without question. Up a private lift that hummed with expensive silence.

  The doors sealed and the lift began its silent climb. Nisede simply stepped in until her body brushed his, front to front, and let her tail slide slow and deliberate up the inside of his thigh, stopping just short of where his pulse was suddenly hammering.

  Luca’s back hit the wall. He hadn’t meant to move.

  She tilted her head, ears flicking, and inhaled like she was memorizing the way he smelled under the expensive cologne the System had dressed him in.

  “Still with me?” she whispered.

  Get to the suite. Find a way into the vault. That's the mission.

  They emerged onto a private observation deck attached to what was clearly a VIP suite. The view hit him like a punch. No windows, no frames, just a transparent dome that made it feel like they were floating in space itself. The planet hung below, but out here the stars dominated. Thousands of them. Millions. A river of light stretching across the void.

  She moved behind him, hands settling on his hips, chin resting on his shoulder so her breath warmed the shell of his ear.

  “Tell me what you see, Luca.”

  “Stars,” he replied.

  “Wrong.” Her palms slid forward, slow, until her thumbs brushed the waistband of his trousers. “You see what I could give you if you stayed.”

  The dome’s transparent floor showed the planet spinning far below, but all he could feel was the heat of her body pressed along his spine and the lazy drag of her tail curling around his ankle like a promise.

  "I don't usually do this," she said. "Bring strangers to my suite."

  "I don't usually accept invitations from women I just met."

  "Liar." But she was smiling.

  This is a System construct. A simulation. None of this is real.

  But she felt real. The warmth of her hand through his shirt. The ache in her voice when she'd talked about her sister.

  It's just a mission. Get close. Find the access. Get out.

  Her other hand came up to his collar, adjusting his tie. "You're tense."

  "Long day."

  "Mmm." She tugged him gently toward the suite's interior. "Let me help with that."

  The suite was sparse but expensive, every piece chosen with care. A massive bed dominated one wall. Crystal decanters on a sideboard. Soft lighting that adjusted automatically as they entered.

  Nisede poured them both drinks, her movements unhurried. Confident. Her tail swayed as she walked, and Luca found his eyes tracking it despite himself.

  Stay focused. Look for access cards. Keycodes. Anything that might get you into the vault.

  She handed him a glass and clinked hers against it. "To chance encounters."

  "To chance encounters."

  She drank, watching him over the rim of her glass. Then she set it down and closed the distance between them, her hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders.

  "You know," she murmured, "I've been wanting to do this since you walked over with that drink."

  Nisede set her glass down and closed the last inch between them. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, undoing the top two with a flick of her fingers.

  Her lips were inches from his. Her tail curled around his thigh.

  Emily. Emily wouldn't—

  “I want to unwrap you myself,” she said, voice low and velvet. “Slowly. Until you forget every reason you walked in here but me.”

  His eyes drifted past her shoulder, scanning the room automatically. Dresser with a crystalline access card sitting in a tray. Closet door slightly ajar. And on the wall beside the bed—

  He froze.

  A framed image. Two young Varnathi women with golden eyes and gray fur, arms around each other, laughing at whoever held the camera.

  The same image.

  The exact same image that flickered on the splash screen of the encrypted datapad in his jacket pocket.

  Holy shit.

  Nisede noticed his distraction. She pulled back slightly, following his gaze to the photo. "That's my sister," she said softly. "Serath. Before she left."

  Serath. Commander Serath Velan.

  "You have come to our world. You have destroyed what we fought to protect."

  "You have honor after all."

  The Commander's face flashed in his memory. Young. Long, swept-back ears and soft gray fur matted with blood. Golden eyes... the same golden eyes now looking at him with confusion.

  I killed her sister.

  "Luca?" Nisede's voice was uncertain now. "What's wrong?"

  His hand moved to his jacket pocket before he could stop it. The datapad was there, a slim weight against his chest. He'd kept it with him since the delve. Never quite able to leave it behind.

  You could walk away. Stay on mission. She's just a construct. None of this is real.

  But the photo on the wall was real. The ache in Nisede's voice when she talked about her sister was real. And the Commander's last words had been about honor.

  Fuck.

  "There's something I need to show you," he said.

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out the datapad.

  Nisede's breath stopped.

  The splash screen flickered to life. The same photo. The same two sisters, laughing together.

  "Where did you get that?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "That's... that's Serath's. She always carried it.

  Luca set the datapad on the dresser beside the access card.

  "I took it from her," he said. "After she died."

  At least… that’s how it happened for me. I don’t know if this... whatever this place is, came before or after.

  The silence stretched between them. Nisede's golden eyes, so like her sister's, filled with something that wasn't quite grief and wasn't quite anger.

  "She's dead?"

  "Yes."

  Or maybe she's not dead yet. I have no idea when this sits in their timeline.

  Nisede's hands were trembling as she reached for the datapad. Her fingers hovered over the screen, not quite touching.

  "She was defending a base," Luca continued. "Her people. Her cause. She fought like she had nothing left to lose. She was the most dangerous enemy I've ever faced." He paused. "Her last words were about honor. She said I had it, after all."

  Nisede picked up the datapad. The screen flickered, recognizing the biometrics of the family bond. Encrypted files began to unlock, filling the display with text and images.

  Tears slipped down her cheeks as she scrolled through her sister's messages. Her logs. Years of her life, her thoughts, her fears.

  Luca's hand drifted to the dresser. The crystalline access card sat in its tray, forgotten. His fingers closed around it.

  "You could have used this against me," Nisede said, not looking up from the screen. "You could have kept seducing me. I would have given you whatever you wanted."

  "I know."

  "Why didn't you?"

  Because I wouldn't risk Emily for a fucking System delve.

  He slipped the card into his pocket.

  "Because your sister deserved better than that."

  Nisede didn't breathe for a full second. Her tail went still, frozen mid-curve. The datapad trembled in her hands.

  Then her shoulders began to shake. A sound escaped her, something between a laugh and a sob, and then she was crying. Really crying. Years of not knowing, of wondering, of hoping her sister might walk back through the door someday, all of it crashing down at once.

  She sank into the chair by the dresser, clutching the datapad to her chest like a lifeline. The tears came harder now, her whole body curling inward.

  Luca stood there, watching her grieve, and felt like the worst kind of thief.

  You gave her closure. That's something.

  You also killed her sister and stole her access card while she cried.

  He moved toward the door, quiet as he could manage. Nisede didn't look up. Didn't seem to notice. She was somewhere else now, lost in the messages and memories of a sister she'd never see again.

  The door slid open at his touch.

  He paused at the threshold, looking back at her one last time. The datapad's glow illuminated her face, wet with tears, as she scrolled through Serath's final words.

  I'm sorry.

  He stepped through and let the door close behind him.

  The access card sat heavy in his pocket as he made his way back toward the ballroom. Somewhere in this orbital, there was a vault. And he had a key.