# ACE 122.1 — THE LIFE I WANT ## Chapter 1 — Return Date Iris woke to the sound of someone swearing at a coffee machine. Not loudly. Not creatively. Just with the exhausted precision of someone who had already tried diplomacy. “Fuck.” Iris opened her eyes. Brenda remained asleep beside her. Warm. One arm across the space between them. The Safehouse beyond the bedroom door was awake. Or at least Kiro was. That distinction mattered. Iris smiled. Then her agent vibrated on the bedside table. Once. She looked at it. Did not reach immediately. That was unusual. Normally, a morning message was simply information. Something to process. Something to answer. Schedule. Ship. Duty. Family. Nothing complicated. Her agent remained dark after the vibration. Waiting. Iris looked toward Brenda. Still asleep. Natural face. Hair disordered against the pillow. No Jessie. No honey-amber eyes. No Palace clothing. No audience. No Crystal Palace. Just Brenda. Home. Iris caught the word. Stopped. There. Not today. She reached for the agent. --- The message was from Henry. Of course. **HENRY: Morning. Need to confirm your return schedule. I can pick you up from the house today at 1830. We leave for Aureate II from there.** Simple. Practical. Entirely normal. Iris read it. Then read it again. Nothing had changed. Her shore leave was over. The two weeks at Crystal Palace had ended. The remaining days around them had ended too. Her next duty cycle had not appeared from nowhere. It had been waiting exactly where it was supposed to be. This evening. Rourke home. Then Aureate II. Familiar. Iris knew the route. Knew how long it took. Knew what she needed packed. Knew what she would wear. Knew what Henry would drink on the way. Knew which systems brief she would probably review before they arrived. Knew how the deck would feel under her feet. Knew the rhythm of the ship so well that sometimes she noticed changes before she consciously heard them. Her life. There. Her life. Iris stared at the message. For the first time in years, the obvious reply would not come. --- Brenda moved. Her hand found Iris's hip under the sheet. “Morning.” Iris looked toward her. Brenda's eyes remained closed. “Morning.” “You're thinking.” Iris smiled faintly. “You're asleep.” “Can do both.” “Impressive.” “I practiced.” Brenda opened one eye. Saw the agent. Then Iris's face. The sleep left her expression gradually. “Everything okay?” “Yes.” Immediate. True. Nothing was wrong. That might have been the problem. Brenda waited. Iris turned the agent so she could see. Henry's message. Brenda read it. Then looked back at Iris. No visible panic. No sadness deployed as leverage. No: _So you're leaving tonight._ No: _Do you have to?_ She simply nodded. “Six thirty.” “Yes.” “Tonight.” “Yes.” Brenda considered. “Your dad has discovered civilized hours.” Iris laughed. “Temporary condition.” Brenda smiled. “Coffee first?” “Definitely.” “Then survivable.” She leaned over. Kissed Iris's shoulder. Then settled back against the pillow. No question. Iris looked at her. Brenda closed her eyes again. Iris waited. Still nothing. Finally: “You're not going to ask?” Brenda opened one eye again. “Ask what?” Iris knew immediately that Brenda knew exactly what. Annoying woman. “When I'm coming back.” Brenda was quiet. Then opened both eyes. Looked at Iris properly. “I know when your duty cycle ends.” “That isn't what I meant.” “I know.” There. Brenda reached for Iris's hand. Held it. “I figure you'll tell me whatever there is to tell me when you know it.” Iris stared. Brenda smiled faintly. “Coffee machine sounds like it's losing.” From the common room: “THIS IS BAD DESIGN.” Kiro. Brenda looked toward the door. “Very badly.” Iris laughed. The pressure in her chest loosened. Not disappeared. Just moved. Brenda squeezed her hand. Then released it. No decision requested. Good. Terrible. --- They got up. No intimacy. No dramatic morning. Just clothes. Bathroom. Teeth. Brenda pulled on one of Iris's shirts by mistake. Or claimed mistake. Iris looked at her. “That is mine.” Brenda looked down. “No.” “It literally is.” “Evidence?” “I bought it.” “Historical claim.” Iris stared. Brenda smiled. Safehouse law. Hopeless. Iris let her keep it. --- The coffee machine had lost. Kiro stood beside it with the side panel open. Ace sat cross-legged on the counter watching. Short black hair. Violet eyes. Tiny. Completely unhelpful. Mai was making actual coffee with another machine because civilization needed continuity. Shammy sat at the table scrolling through messages. Reyes was eating something that might have been breakfast or might have been leftovers from midnight. Iris and Brenda entered. Ace looked up. “Morning.” “Morning.” Kiro pointed inside the machine. “This valve should not be software-controlled.” Ace nodded solemnly. “I understand none of those words.” “You understand valve.” “Yes.” “Then one.” “Good enough.” Mai handed Iris coffee. “Morning.” “Thank you.” Brenda reached. Mai handed her another. No questions. No social scan. No one looking at Iris as though departure morning had already begun. The Safehouse simply continued. --- Ace looked toward Brenda. “That shirt is Iris's.” Brenda stared. “Why does everyone know?” Ace smiled. “Visual memory.” Reyes looked over. “Also too big.” Brenda looked offended. Iris took a drink. Ace's violet eyes moved toward her. Then toward the agent still in Iris's hand. She noticed. Of course. But said nothing. That mattered more than Iris wanted it to. --- Mai sat. “What happened to the coffee machine?” Kiro answered: “Design failure.” Reyes: “Kiro happened.” Kiro looked at her. “Incorrect.” Ace pointed into the open panel. “Valve.” Mai looked at Ace. Ace smiled. “I contributed.” Shammy laughed. Iris found herself smiling into her coffee. Normal. Nothing special. Exactly the problem. --- Her agent vibrated again. Henry. A second message. **HENRY: No rush. Just need to lock transport before noon.** Iris read it. No pressure. Again. Her father was making this increasingly inconvenient. If he had demanded— No. That was unfair. Henry had never needed to be a villain for Iris to understand duty. He had taught her responsibility. She had chosen the ship too. Chosen the work. Chosen to become good at it. Aureate II was not a cage. That mattered. A lot. She put the agent facedown on the table. Ace saw. Still said nothing. --- Kiro finally gave up on the coffee machine. “It needs a part.” Ace looked shocked. “You can't fix it?” “I can fix it incorrectly.” “Difference?” Kiro stared. Ace smiled. Mai leaned over and kissed Ace's temple. “Stop helping.” “I am morale.” Reyes laughed. Brenda sat beside Iris. Their shoulders touched. No one asked about the return. --- Breakfast accumulated rather than being prepared. Toast. Fruit. Something Reyes heated. Mai found eggs. Kiro found a replacement valve listing before finding a clean plate. Shammy received three messages from Imani and smiled at the third. Ace saw. Shammy saw Ace seeing. Ace grinned. “Artist.” Shammy smiled. “Yes.” No more. Progress. --- Iris watched them. Not intensely. That would have made the moment artificial. She simply noticed. Ace leaning half across Mai to steal food from her plate. Mai allowing it while pretending not to. Shammy reading an Imani message with one hand while reaching blindly for coffee with the other. Kiro explaining to Reyes why a locally controlled coffee valve was apparently a question of civilization. Reyes disagreeing on principle. Brenda wearing Iris's shirt. Home. There again. Iris took another drink. The word did not leave. --- Aureate II had mornings too. Better organized ones. Usually. The smell of coffee before watch change. Henry already awake. Crew voices. Weather information. Systems status. The low continuous physical language of a ship alive beneath everything. Iris loved those mornings. Still did. She could picture tomorrow after tomorrow. Boarding. Returning greetings. Checking what had changed during leave. Finding something moved four centimeters from where she expected it and immediately knowing who had done it. Her cabin. Her work. Her father. None of that felt false. None of it felt like a life she had outgrown. That would have made the answer easy. Iris hated easy answers that required lying. --- Brenda touched her knee under the table. Iris looked over. Brenda had noticed again. Noticed without asking. “You okay?” “Yes.” This time Iris paused. Then: “I don't know.” Brenda's expression changed only slightly. More attention. Less assumption. “Okay.” Iris almost laughed. “That's all?” “What else?” “I don't know.” Brenda smiled. “Then we're synchronized.” There. Iris looked at her. Annoying. Perfect. --- Ace suddenly hopped down from the counter. “Work.” Everyone groaned. Ace stared. “I said one word.” Kiro closed the coffee-machine parts listing. Mai looked toward the O'Sullivan SAS board. It remained dark. Good. They had survived yesterday. Barely. Ace pointed toward it. “We still have the queue.” Mai nodded. “Later.” Ace looked betrayed. “You said tomorrow yesterday.” Mai smiled. “It is tomorrow.” Ace's face brightened. “Exactly.” “After breakfast.” Ace considered. “Acceptable.” Iris smiled. For everyone else, _tomorrow_ was only a joke about deferred work. She envied that simplicity. --- Her agent remained facedown. At 09:11, Iris picked it up. Opened Henry's message. Typed: **IRIS: 1830 works. I'll confirm before noon.** Stopped. Read it. That was bizarre. If 1830 worked, why did she need to confirm? She deleted it. Tried again. **IRIS: I'll confirm before noon.** Stopped. That sounded worse. Deleted. Brenda watched her thumbs. Not the screen. Iris noticed. “I'm having trouble answering a scheduling message.” Brenda looked toward her. “That seems serious.” “I am aware.” “Want help?” Iris almost said yes. Then realized Brenda meant help wording the reply. Not help deciding what the reply should mean. “No.” Brenda nodded. “Okay.” Again. That word. --- Iris put the agent down. “I need to see my mother.” Brenda's eyes lifted. There. Not surprise. Recognition. “Today?” “Yes.” “At home?” “Yes.” Brenda nodded. “Okay.” Iris looked at her. “Again?” Brenda smiled. “Would you prefer a trumpet?” “Possibly.” “I can ask Ace.” Across the table Ace looked up. “What?” “Nothing.” Ace's eyebrows rose. Danger. Brenda smiled. Iris shook her head. “Please don't.” Ace looked fascinated now. Too late. Mai reached over. Distracted her with toast. Effective. --- Iris looked toward Brenda again. “You don't want to come.” Not a question. Brenda considered. Then: “If you want me there, I come.” Iris waited. “If you don't?” “Then I stay here and let you talk to your mother.” Simple. Iris nodded. “I think I need to go alone.” Brenda smiled. “Then go alone.” No injury. No attempt to insert herself. Good. Iris looked down at their hands. Brenda's fingers had found hers again. --- At 09:36 Iris finally replied to Henry. **IRIS: I need to stop by the house today. Is Mom home?** The response came almost immediately. **HENRY: Yes. I'm out until late afternoon. She should be there. Everything okay?** Iris stared at the final question. Everything okay? Yes. No. Maybe. She typed: **IRIS: Yes. Just want to talk to her.** Henry: **HENRY: All right.** Then: **HENRY: Let me know about 1830 when you can.** No suspicion. No pressure. No idea. Iris put the agent down. --- Brenda read her expression. “Your dad out?” “Yes.” “Good timing?” “Yes.” Iris looked toward the Safehouse. The others were already shifting into morning motion. Mai and Ace at the work board. Kiro beside them. Shammy carrying dishes. Reyes arguing with the replacement coffee machine as though it had inherited guilt from the broken one. No one stopped. No one gathered. Thank God. --- Iris stood. Brenda looked up. “You're going now?” “I think so.” “Okay.” Brenda stood too. Walked with her toward the hallway. Not escorting. Just moving. At their room, Iris changed. Nothing special. Normal clothes. No Ms. B. No cover. No Palace. Just herself. She picked up her jacket. Then stopped. Her packed Aureate II bag did not exist yet. Packing was this afternoon's problem. This evening's problem. No. This evening was exactly the problem. Iris sighed. Brenda leaned against the doorframe. “Want the trumpet now?” Iris laughed despite herself. “No.” “Offer remains open.” --- Brenda came closer. Adjusted Iris's collar. Completely unnecessary. Then rested her hands briefly at Iris's waist. “I'll be here.” Iris looked at her. The sentence could have been pressure. It wasn't. Not: _I'll be waiting for your answer._ Just: _I'll be here._ Iris kissed her. Soft. Brief. “Love you.” Brenda smiled. “Love you too.” No _come back soon._ No _choose me._ Iris almost wished Brenda would make one mistake. Just one. Something easy to resist. She did not. Terrible woman. --- Iris returned through the common room. Ace looked up from the work board. “You heading out?” “Yes.” “Need anything?” “No.” Ace nodded. “Okay.” Apparently everyone had been infected. Iris smiled. Kiro glanced toward her. “Vehicle?” “I have one.” “Route clear.” Iris stared. Kiro shrugged. “Useful okay.” Iris laughed. “Thank you.” Mai looked over. “Dinner?” “I should be back.” “Good.” No interrogation. Shammy smiled at her. Reyes lifted one hand. That was it. --- The Safehouse door opened. Iris stepped outside. Closed it behind her. Night City morning. Noise. Traffic. Air that smelled nothing like Palace and nothing like the sea. She stood for a second. Then walked. --- The ride to the Rourke home was familiar. Different familiarity. Not Aureate II. Not Safehouse. Older. Family. The place where Iris had learned that Henry could leave a glass in the wrong room just like anyone else. Where her mother knew exactly how he liked dinner and ignored it when she felt like cooking something else. Where captain meant nothing at the breakfast table. The distinction mattered today. Iris watched the city move past. Her agent remained quiet. No emergency. No interruption. No external event arriving to make the decision for her. Good. Unfortunate. --- She thought about what she intended to ask her mother. Nothing sounded right. _Would Dad hate me if I left the ship?_ Ridiculous. Henry would not hate her. She knew that. _Would Dad understand?_ Maybe. Too vague. _Can I leave?_ That was worse. She was an adult woman. Aureate II was not conscription. She could resign. The question was never whether she was allowed. Then why did it feel like she needed permission? Iris looked out the window. Palace had been full of permission. Then eventually it had stopped being necessary. She had chosen. Again. Again. Again. Until wanting something no longer required someone else to tell her it was acceptable. Apparently some lessons were easier in zero gravity. --- The vehicle turned onto the Rourkes' street. Iris's stomach tightened. Interesting. She had walked into dangerous situations with less physical reaction. Family. Always efficient. The house came into view. Familiar windows. Familiar front steps. Her mother's vehicle present. Henry's absent. Exactly as expected. Iris paid the driver. Stepped out. The air felt cooler here. She walked to the door. Stopped. No dramatic music. No revelation. Just a door she had opened thousands of times. She touched the access control. It recognized her immediately. Of course. The lock released. Iris stood there for one second. She had come here because she needed to ask her mother something. She still did not know exactly what. Maybe that was all right. Her mother had known her before Aureate II. Before Brenda. Before Crystal Palace. Before Ms. B. Before any of this. If anyone could hear the question underneath the words, it would be her. Iris opened the door. “Mom?” A voice came from deeper inside the house. “In here.” Iris closed the door behind her. And for the first time since Henry's message had arrived that morning, she knew exactly what came next. Not the answer. Just the conversation. That would have to be enough. --- ## Chapter 2 — Mother “In here.” Iris followed the voice toward the kitchen. Of course. Her mother was sitting at the table with a mug in one hand and a datapad in the other. No emergency. No dramatic family tableau. Just late-morning light through the windows and half a piece of toast on a plate. She looked up. Saw Iris. Smiled. “There you are.” Iris smiled back. “Hi, Mom.” Her mother put the datapad aside. Iris crossed the room. The hug came automatically. Longer than hello required. Her mother noticed. Of course. She said nothing. Iris released her. Her mother looked at her properly. “You want coffee?” “Yes.” “That bad?” Iris laughed. “Maybe.” “Tea?” “Coffee.” “That bad.” Her mother stood. Iris sat. Familiar chair. Same table. Same tiny scratch near one edge that Henry had claimed for years was not his fault. It absolutely was. Iris ran one fingertip over it. Her mother put coffee in front of her. Then sat again. No interrogation. Apparently Brenda had organized an international conspiracy. Iris took a drink. Her mother waited. --- “How was the trip?” Easy question. Dangerous answer. Iris smiled. “Good.” Her mother's eyebrows rose. “Good.” “Very.” A slight smile. “I've seen enough pictures of Crystal Palace to know that's probably an understatement.” Iris looked down at her coffee. “Yes.” “Did Brenda enjoy it?” Iris laughed. “Very.” “Also an understatement?” “Yes.” “Good.” Her mother took another drink. No concern. No raised eyebrow at what Crystal Palace was famous for. No need. Iris was an adult. Brenda was an adult. Her mother had always understood this irritatingly well. --- “Your father said you might stop by.” Iris looked up. “He did?” “He messaged about twenty minutes ago.” Of course. “What did he say?” “That you wanted to talk to me.” Iris waited. “And?” Her mother smiled. “That was all.” Interesting. Henry had not added speculation. Not even: _She seems strange._ Nothing. Just information. Iris took another drink. --- Her mother leaned back slightly. “So.” Iris looked at her. “So.” “You wanted to talk.” “Yes.” “I'm here.” Terrible. Everyone in her life had apparently decided to become emotionally competent at the same time. Iris looked toward the window. Then back. “I don't know how to start.” Her mother's expression softened. “That usually means the middle is more important.” Iris laughed quietly. “Probably.” “Start badly.” Iris stared. Her mother smiled. “You can improve it later.” Fair. --- Iris put both hands around the coffee mug. Warm. Solid. “I don't know if I want to go back to Aureate II tonight.” The sentence sat between them. Badly started. Perfectly understood. Her mother did not react immediately. No shock. No denial. No smile either. She simply looked at Iris. Then: “Tonight specifically?” Good question. Iris swallowed. “No.” Her mother's eyes changed. Now they were talking. --- Iris looked down. “I mean…” She stopped. Started again. “I don't know if I want to go back as crew.” Silence. The refrigerator hummed. Traffic somewhere outside. Nothing else. Her mother took this seriously enough not to fill the silence for her. Iris appreciated that. Eventually: “How long have you been thinking about it?” Iris almost said two weeks. Wrong. Not exactly. “I'm not sure.” “Before Crystal Palace?” “No.” Her mother nodded. “During?” “Not like this.” Another nod. Iris continued. “Palace changed some things.” Her mother smiled faintly. “I assumed.” Iris gave her a look. “Not only those things.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were thinking loudly.” Her mother laughed. Some oxygen. --- Iris looked into the coffee again. “I liked it there.” “I know.” “I liked…” She searched. “Having room.” Her mother waited. “To do what?” “Anything.” That sounded childish. Iris frowned. Her mother did not. Iris tried again. “To find out what I wanted before deciding whether it was sensible.” Closer. Her mother nodded slowly. “And that was unusual?” Iris thought. “Yes.” Not because Henry controlled her. Not because Aureate II controlled her. Because Iris controlled Iris. Very efficiently. All the time. She smiled faintly. “I've spent a lot of years being good at knowing what comes next.” Her mother smiled. “You always have.” “I like knowing.” “I know.” “I still like it.” Important. Her mother nodded. “Good.” Iris looked up. That answer surprised her. Her mother saw. “You don't need to dislike your old life to want something different.” Too early. Too accurate. Iris looked away. --- She took another drink. The coffee had cooled. “I love Aureate II.” “I know.” “I love the work.” “I know.” “I am good at it.” Her mother smiled. “Very.” “I like being good at it.” “You should.” “I like the crew.” “Yes.” “And Dad.” Her mother's expression softened. The real center had entered the room. Iris felt it immediately. She put the mug down. Her mother did too. --- “I don't want him to think—” Iris stopped. “What?” “That I'm leaving him.” Her mother went very still. Not surprised. Understanding. Iris looked toward her. “He built so much of his life around that ship.” “Yes.” “And I built mine there too.” “Yes.” “With him.” Her mother nodded. Iris's voice lowered. “If I stop going back…” The rest did not need saying. Her mother nevertheless made her say it. “What are you afraid happens?” Iris looked away. “That it changes us.” “Yes.” “Too much.” “Meaning?” Iris frowned. “I don't know.” Her mother waited. Iris hated this. Good conversations were terrible. --- “What if he thinks I chose Brenda over him?” Her mother did not answer yet. Iris continued. “Or Safehouse over him.” Still nothing. “Or that I spent two weeks at Crystal Palace and came back deciding everything I had before wasn't enough.” Her mother finally spoke. “Do you think that?” “No.” Immediate. “Then don't tell him that.” Iris stared. Her mother smiled faintly. “He can't respond to something you don't believe.” Fair. Annoyingly fair. --- “But he could still feel it.” “Yes.” Iris blinked. Her mother did not soften the answer. “Yes,” she repeated. “He could.” Iris looked down. Her mother continued. “If you tell your father you're leaving Aureate II's crew, it will hurt him.” No reassurance yet. No lie. “He'll miss having you there.” Iris swallowed. “He'll miss knowing where you are every day. He'll miss seeing you work. He'll miss having you as part of something he loves.” Iris's throat tightened. Her mother watched. “And he may be disappointed.” Iris looked up. “Thank you.” Her mother smiled slightly. “You didn't come here for me to lie.” “No.” “Good.” --- Then her expression changed. Warmer. Certain. “But none of that is the same as losing you.” Iris went still. Her mother leaned forward. “Listen to me.” Iris did. “Your father loves Aureate II.” “Yes.” “He loves being her captain.” “Yes.” “He loves having you aboard.” Iris nodded. “He loves you more.” Silence. Iris's eyes burned unexpectedly. She looked away. Her mother allowed it. --- “You leaving his crew would be a loss.” Iris looked back. “For him.” “Yes.” “For me too.” Her mother nodded. “Of course.” “But it would not make you less his daughter.” Iris breathed in. Slowly. Her mother continued. “It would not make him stop calling.” A small smile. “It would probably make him call more.” Iris laughed despite the pressure behind her eyes. “That sounds terrible.” “I've lived with him longer than you have.” “Good point.” “He would not shut you out.” Iris looked at her. Her mother did not hedge. “He would not disown you.” The word sounded absurd in this kitchen. Maybe Iris needed that. “He would not decide you betrayed him.” Another beat. “He might need time to rearrange the version of the future he carries around in his head.” Iris understood that. Painfully. Her mother smiled. “We all do that.” --- Iris rubbed one thumb against the edge of the mug. “What about the ship?” “What about her?” “I don't want to lose that either.” Her mother looked almost amused. “Then don't.” Iris frowned. “That simple?” “No.” “Good.” “But Aureate II does carry passengers.” Iris stared. Her mother smiled. “Occasionally even difficult ones.” “Mom.” “I'm making a point.” Iris laughed quietly. Her mother continued. “You don't have to be crew to step aboard.” Iris looked toward her. “You don't have to be on duty to visit your father.” That one landed. “You don't have to carry responsibility for the ship every time you walk onto her deck.” Iris had genuinely never imagined that. Not properly. Aureate II without duty. Without a watch. Without a checklist running beneath every conversation. Just— visiting. Her father. Her old home. The thought felt almost impossible. Her mother saw. “You've never been aboard as an adult without working, have you?” Iris thought. “No.” “Maybe you should try it sometime.” Iris laughed. “Dad would give me something to do.” “Then refuse.” Iris stared. Her mother smiled. “Crystal Palace did teach you that word, didn't it?” Iris laughed harder. “Several words.” “I don't need the curriculum.” Good. --- The laughter faded. Iris looked at her mother. “So you think I should leave.” “No.” Immediate. Clean. Iris blinked. Her mother leaned back again. “I think if you want to leave, fear of losing your father should not be what keeps you aboard.” That was the distinction. “If you go back tonight because you want Aureate II, go.” Iris listened. “If you go back because you love the work, go.” Another. “If you go back because the sea feels like home, go.” Her mother smiled faintly. “If you go back because your father is impossible and somebody competent has to supervise him, I will personally support that.” Iris laughed. Then her mother became serious again. “But don't go back because you're afraid he will stop loving you if you don't.” Iris's laughter disappeared. Her mother held her gaze. “He won't.” --- Iris sat very still. Something had changed. Not the decision. That was still there. Difficult. Large. But one wall had vanished. She had not realized how much of the room it occupied until it was gone. Her father was still on the other side of the question. But he was no longer the price. Different. Very different. --- “I thought you'd tell me to talk to him.” “I am telling you to talk to him.” “Before I decide?” Her mother considered. “No.” Iris's eyebrows rose. Interesting. “You think I should decide first.” “I think your father is very persuasive when he believes something matters.” Iris smiled. “Yes.” “And you know him too well.” “Yes.” “If you go to him asking what you should do, you'll spend the entire conversation reading him.” That was true. “You'll notice every pause.” True. “Every change in his voice.” Very true. “And whether you intend to or not, some part of you will start solving his feelings.” Iris looked down. Her mother had found it. Iris solved things. Systems. People. Problems. Anything uncomfortable enough to become a task. Her mother continued gently. “Decide what you want before you make his feelings part of the equation.” Iris stared at the table. Then nodded. “Yes.” --- Her mother reached across. Put one hand over Iris's. “I am not saying his feelings don't matter.” “I know.” “They matter because you love him.” “Yes.” “But they cannot be the instrument you use to measure your own life.” Silence. Iris squeezed her mother's hand. “Where did you learn to be this annoying?” Her mother smiled. “Marriage.” Iris laughed. “Fair.” --- They sat quietly for a while. No urgency. No next bullet point. Iris looked around the kitchen. Family photographs. A ridiculous decorative bowl Henry disliked. One plant her mother had somehow kept alive for eleven years. The hallway toward the room Iris had used when younger. A home she had left without losing. She looked around again. Interesting. She had already done this once. Not the ship. The house. She had moved out. Built another life. Still came back. Still knew where everything was. Still had access. Still had a chair that felt like hers. Her mother followed her gaze. “What?” Iris smiled faintly. “I left here.” “Yes.” “You survived.” “Barely.” Iris laughed. “And Dad.” “Against all odds.” Simple proof. Leaving a place was not the same as abandoning the people inside it. Obvious. Apparently Iris needed two weeks in orbit and a conversation at her mother's kitchen table to notice. --- Her agent vibrated. Iris looked. Henry. She froze for half a second. Her mother saw. “Read it.” Iris opened the message. **HENRY: Transport wants confirmation by 1300, not noon. You've got more time.** That was all. Iris stared. Then laughed softly. Her mother smiled. “What?” “He gave me another hour.” “Monster.” “Yes.” Iris put the agent down without answering. Not yet. --- “Does he know?” Her mother asked. “No.” “That you're thinking about leaving?” “No.” Her mother nodded. “Then when you're ready, tell him yourself.” “I will.” “At home.” Iris looked toward her. Not a command. A suggestion with understanding behind it. “Yes.” “Not aboard.” “No.” “Good.” Because aboard, Henry would be captain before either of them meant him to be. Here— Here he was the man who had damaged the table and lied badly about it. Better. --- Iris finished the coffee. Cold now. She stood. Her mother looked up. “That was quick.” “It was almost an hour.” “Really?” Iris checked. It had been. Interesting. Her mother stood too. “Staying for lunch?” Iris considered. Then shook her head. “I think I need to go back.” Her mother smiled. “To Brenda?” Iris caught the phrasing. Not Safehouse. Not home. To Brenda. “Yes.” Then: “And everyone else.” Her mother's smile changed slightly. She noticed that too. “Okay.” --- Iris picked up her jacket. Her mother walked with her toward the front door. No more advice. Good. At the door, Iris stopped. Turned. “Mom.” “Yes?” “If I leave the crew…” The sentence was easier now. Not easy. Easier. “Will you be disappointed?” Her mother looked surprised. Then smiled. “No.” Immediate. Iris waited. Her mother continued. “I will worry.” “Of course.” “I will probably ask irritating practical questions.” “Obviously.” “I may decide your new employment arrangements are inadequate before you even have new employment arrangements.” Iris laughed. “Also obvious.” Her mother stepped closer. “But disappointed?” She shook her head. “No.” Then: “I didn't raise you so you could spend your whole life proving you can keep doing something you've already proven you can do.” Iris swallowed. Her mother touched her cheek. “Whatever you choose, choose the next thing because it's yours.” Iris closed her eyes for one second. Then hugged her. Hard. Her mother held her. No rush. --- When they separated, Iris wiped quickly under one eye. Her mother noticed. Said nothing. Good woman. Iris opened the door. Then stopped again. “What are you going to tell Dad?” Her mother smiled. “That you came for coffee.” Iris laughed. “That's it?” “You said this is your conversation.” Exactly. Iris nodded. “Thank you.” “Any time.” --- Outside, the day had moved on. Same street. Same city. Iris stood on the steps and breathed. No answer. Still. That mattered. She had not gone inside wanting Aureate II and come out wanting Safehouse. She had not gone inside crew and come out resigned. Nothing so convenient. She still loved the ship. Still wanted her father in her life. Still wanted Brenda. Still wanted the Safehouse. Still had no idea which shape her next year should take. But one thing had changed completely. She no longer believed choosing one life meant destroying the other. That made the question smaller. Not easier. Smaller. Human-sized. Maybe. --- Her agent was in her hand. Henry's message still waiting. Transport confirmation by 1300. Iris looked at the time. 11:42. Plenty. She opened a new message. Not Henry. Brenda. Typed: **IRIS: Done talking. Coming back.** The response arrived before Iris reached the curb. **BRENDA: Coffee?** Iris smiled. **IRIS: Yes.** Pause. **BRENDA: Good?** Iris thought. Then typed: **IRIS: Important.** Brenda replied: **BRENDA: Okay. I'm here. <3** There. Again. No question. No demand. Just there. Iris put the agent away. Called a vehicle. --- As it approached, she looked back at the Rourke house. Her mother was visible briefly through the kitchen window. Already collecting the mugs. Normal. Domestic. No family crisis. No shattered future. Just a conversation. Iris smiled. Henry would be harder. Of course he would. That was precisely why she could not go to him yet. First she had to know what she was going to say. Not what would hurt him least. Not what Brenda wanted. Not what duty expected. What she wanted. Her mother had removed the one answer Iris was no longer allowed to use: _I have to._ The vehicle stopped. Iris got in. Destination: Safehouse. For today, that was enough. --- ## Chapter 3 — The Life She Already Has The Safehouse door opened at 12:26. Iris stepped inside. Closed it. Locked. And immediately heard Ace say: “No.” Mai answered: “Yes.” “No.” “Yes.” “That's extortion.” “That's the price.” “Same thing.” Iris stood in the entryway for one second. Jacket still on. The emotional weight of the last hour collided headfirst with whatever nonsense was happening in the common room. She walked in. Ace was standing in front of the main work display. Mai beside her. Kiro at the table. Three O'Sullivan SAS estimates floated above them. Reyes was on the couch eating noodles. Shammy was drawing something on a tablet. Brenda was nowhere visible. Ace pointed at one number. “That is offensive.” Mai folded her arms. “That is what happens when demand exceeds capacity.” “We can't charge that.” Kiro looked up. “Yes, we can.” Ace turned. “Traitor.” “Market signal.” “Monster.” Iris took off her jacket. Reyes saw her first. “Hey.” Everyone looked. Nothing dramatic. No rush. No circle. Just recognition. Mai smiled. “Back.” “Yes.” Ace looked at her face for approximately half a second longer than normal. Then: “Coffee?” Iris smiled. “Yes.” Kiro pointed toward the functional machine. “Left one.” Ace looked offended. “She knows.” Iris walked past her. “I know.” Ace stared. Right. Of course she did. --- Brenda appeared from the hallway before Iris reached the coffee machine. Stopped. Looked at her. There. That was different. Not public concern. Not social concern. Brenda. Waiting without looking like she had been waiting. Iris smiled. Brenda crossed the room. No question. Just wrapped both arms around her. Iris held her. Long. Warm. No urgency. Brenda's mouth near her ear. “Hi.” “Hi.” “Important?” Iris closed her eyes for one second. “Yes.” Brenda squeezed her once. Then released her. No: _What did she say?_ No: _Did you decide?_ Of course not. Iris almost laughed. “You are infuriating.” Brenda smiled. “Good coffee too.” Iris looked at the machine. “That's Kiro's.” “Then adequate coffee.” From the table: “I heard that.” Brenda smiled. “Excellent.” --- Iris made coffee. She did not ask where anything was. Mug. Coffee. Milk. Spoon. All where they belonged. She realized this only after she had already sat down. Brenda beside her. The chair felt normal. That was all. --- Ace returned to the work board. “Okay. Explain again why we're robbing people.” Mai sighed. “We are not robbing anyone.” Kiro rotated one estimate. “Client requested a seventy-two-hour turnaround.” “Yes.” “That consumes the only available remote-prep window before the Militech review.” Ace pointed. “Which means?” Mai answered: “Priority surcharge.” Ace stared at the number. “That's still offensive.” Reyes looked over from the couch. “Then don't charge it.” Mai nodded. “Correct.” Ace blinked. Kiro nodded too. “Decline the job.” Ace looked between them. “That feels worse.” Shammy spoke without looking up. “Then charge it.” Ace stared. “You too?” Shammy smiled. “Market signal.” Kiro looked pleased. Ace looked betrayed by civilization. Iris smiled into her coffee. --- Her agent vibrated. 12:31. Henry. Not a new message. A reminder attached to the transport request. **CONFIRMATION WINDOW CLOSES: 13:00** There. Iris's smile disappeared. Brenda noticed. Said nothing. The room continued around them. Ace was now attempting to negotiate against her own company. Mai was refusing. Kiro was winning without speaking. Normal. Iris opened Henry's thread. Her mother's words returned. _Don't go back because you're afraid he will stop loving you if you don't._ That answer was gone. Good. Now she needed another one. She did not have it. Iris typed: **IRIS: Dad, I need more time before I confirm the return.** She stopped. Read it. Truth. Sent. There. Her stomach tightened anyway. The answer took forty seconds. **HENRY: All right.** Then: **HENRY: I'll release the fixed transport slot. We can arrange another if needed. Let me know tonight.** Iris stared. That was it. No _why._ No _what's wrong._ No _you need to be back._ Nothing. She exhaled. Brenda looked toward her. Iris turned the screen. Brenda read. Then smiled faintly. “Okay.” Iris stared. Brenda laughed. “Sorry.” “No, you're not.” “No.” Iris put the agent down. Tonight. Now the deadline belonged to her. Wonderful. Terrible. --- Mai closed one estimate. “Next.” Kiro brought up another. Brenda leaned forward automatically. “That's mine.” Ace looked at her. “Of course it is.” Brenda smiled. “Hospitality operator from Palace.” “Of course it is.” “They have three properties.” Ace stared. Brenda's smile widened. “Networking.” Ace put both hands over her face. Reyes laughed. Iris leaned back. The queue looked enormous. Still. Even after yesterday's triage. Not impossible in the abstract. Impossible with the current people. Different. --- Kiro opened the client's requested windows. Mai frowned. “They want the first site assessment Tuesday, second Wednesday, third Thursday.” Brenda nodded. “They're in three sectors.” Kiro zoomed the route map. “Travel is ugly.” Mai looked closer. “How ugly?” “Six hours lost across three days.” Ace brightened. “Only six?” Everyone looked at her. Ace frowned. “Is that bad?” “Yes,” four voices answered. Ace looked wounded. Iris smiled. Then looked at the route. Not deeply. Just enough. Three sites. Three sectors. Equipment staging. Same technical team. Different access windows. She frowned. “Why are you returning to base every night?” Silence. Kiro looked toward her. Mai did too. Iris immediately regretted speaking. Not because she was wrong. Because suddenly the whole table was looking at her. She pointed at the map. “The equipment package is the same.” Kiro nodded slowly. “Yes.” “And the second site is closer to the first than either is to Safehouse.” “Yes.” “Then stage from there.” Kiro enlarged the logistics layer. Brenda leaned closer. Iris continued. “You don't need three deployments.” Mai's eyes narrowed. “Two.” “One outbound deployment. Two internal transfers. One return.” Kiro's fingers started moving. “Yes.” Ace looked between them. “Explain for management.” Reyes laughed. Mai pointed at the map. “We stop treating Safehouse as the center of every movement.” Ace nodded. “That I understand.” Iris took another drink. Done. --- Kiro recalculated. “Two hours twenty-eight minutes recovered.” Brenda looked at Iris. Iris saw. “No.” Brenda blinked. “I didn't say anything.” “You made the face.” Ace immediately pointed. “The face!” Brenda looked at her. “What face?” “The expansion face.” Mai started laughing. Brenda stared. “I was going to say thank you.” Iris smiled. “Good.” Brenda's expression softened. “Thank you.” “Better.” Nobody turned the route into a recruitment pitch. It remained what it was: one useful observation in the middle of an ordinary day. Iris had spent years thinking about moving people, equipment, responsibility and time through constrained environments. A ship merely made the constraints honest. Apparently Night City could occasionally manage the same courtesy. --- Kiro saved the revised plan. Then looked at Iris. “Can I use that staging logic for the other two?” Iris shrugged. “If the equipment ownership stays consistent.” Kiro's expression changed. Interested. “What if it doesn't?” “Then whoever owns the transfer owns the failure.” Kiro smiled. Shipboard answer. Not abstract systems theory. Responsibility. Mai heard it too. She nodded. “Named owner.” “Yes.” Ace looked around. “I understand approximately half of this.” Reyes lifted the noodles. “Management.” Ace pointed. “Exactly.” --- The conversation moved on. No one asked Iris to stay. No one said: _See? We need you._ That would have ruined it. Instead Kiro used the revised route. Mai changed the estimate. Brenda sent a message. Ace complained about the new price. Life continued. Iris sat beside Brenda and finished her coffee. Useful. Then no longer the center. --- At 13:08, Shammy stood. “Food.” Reyes looked at the noodles in her hand. Shammy stared. “For everyone.” “Oh.” Reyes looked into the container. Then offered it. Shammy looked offended. “No.” Ace raised one hand. “Order?” Mai looked toward the kitchen. “We have food.” Ace stared at her. “Do we?” “Yes.” “Prepared?” “No.” Ace smiled. “Then we have ingredients.” Kiro nodded. “Accurate.” Mai looked toward Iris. “Help?” Iris's eyebrows rose. “With?” “Lunch.” Iris considered. “That's a dangerous assumption.” Brenda smiled. “She can cook.” Iris looked at her. “Why are you volunteering me?” “Historical evidence.” “That's my line.” “You left it unattended.” Ace stood. “I can help.” Seven people answered: “No.” Ace froze. Then slowly sat. “Hostile household.” Iris laughed. Household. The word passed without landing hard enough to stop her. Almost. --- Lunch became Mai and Iris trying to cook while everyone else interfered at varying levels of deniability. Brenda chopped vegetables. Competently. Kiro was assigned to a pot and given explicit instructions not to optimize it. Reyes stole food directly from a cutting board. Mai slapped her hand away once. The second time she simply moved the board. Shammy set the table. Ace remained officially banned from active operations. She objected from the counter. “I have knives.” Mai did not look up. “That is why you're banned.” Ace smiled. Fair. --- Iris knew where the pans were. Again. She opened the correct cabinet without thinking. Mai noticed. Said nothing. Iris put one on the stove. Brenda moved past behind her and touched her waist for half a second. No reason. Just contact. Iris smiled. Continued. --- Someone had changed the spice arrangement. Iris frowned. “Kiro.” From across the kitchen: “What?” “Where is the chili?” “Second shelf.” “It was first.” “Second is more efficient by use frequency.” Iris turned. “You reorganized the kitchen?” “Only spices.” Reyes looked toward Iris. “Kill her.” Kiro stared. Iris found the chili. “You put salt farther away.” “Salt overuse is statistically—” “No.” Kiro stopped. Ace started laughing. Iris moved the salt back. Kiro looked wounded. “Command decision?” Iris paused. Then smiled. “Yes.” Kiro nodded. Accepted. That was disturbingly satisfying. --- Lunch happened around the same table as breakfast. Different configuration. Ace and Shammy arguing over something trivial. Mai eating slowly. Kiro already thinking about the work board again. Reyes asking Iris whether shipboard kitchens also had spice dictators. Brenda beside Iris. Iris answered. Aureate II stories followed. Not nostalgia weaponized against Safehouse. Just stories. A cook who once hid Henry's preferred coffee for three days after an argument. A refrigeration fault that had turned an entire meal plan into creative improvisation. A junior crew member who had misunderstood an inventory code and ordered enough citrus for half a year. Ace looked delighted. “Your ship sounds insane.” Iris smiled. “Sometimes.” “Can we visit?” The question was immediate. Casual. No connection to Iris's decision. Iris looked toward Ace. “You have.” “Yes, but recreationally.” Mai looked at her. “You worked during both visits.” Ace frowned. “Against my will.” Kiro corrected: “You volunteered.” “Technicality.” Iris laughed. Aureate II remained right there. Not something she was trying to escape. A place her people knew. A place they could know again. Her mother's words returned. _You don't have to be crew to step aboard._ Iris looked down at her food. Interesting. --- After lunch everyone scattered. Ace and Mai returned to the queue. Kiro joined them. Shammy disappeared into the studio space. Reyes went downstairs. Brenda collected dishes. Iris stood automatically. Brenda looked at her. “I can do these.” “I know.” Iris picked up plates. Brenda smiled. No debate. They worked. Small. Ordinary. Water. Soap. Stacking. No Palace laundry revelation. No symbolism demanded. Just dishes. --- Brenda handed Iris a plate. Iris dried it. “You want to tell me?” There. First direct opening since she returned. Not: _What did your mother say?_ Want. Iris looked toward her. “Yes.” Brenda waited. Iris dried another plate first. Then: “She thinks Dad will be hurt.” Brenda's hands slowed. Not stopped. “Okay.” “She thinks he'll miss me.” “Yes.” “She thinks he may be disappointed.” Brenda looked toward Iris now. Iris smiled faintly. “My mother does not believe in comforting lies.” “I like your mother.” “I know.” Brenda resumed washing. Iris continued. “She also thinks he won't leave me.” Brenda's expression softened. “Good.” “Or stop being my father.” “Good.” “Or decide I've betrayed him.” Brenda turned off the water. There. That one mattered to her. Iris saw. Brenda dried her hands. Then faced Iris. “How do you feel?” Not: _So you're staying?_ Of course. Iris leaned back against the counter. “Better.” Brenda nodded. “And?” “Worse.” Brenda smiled faintly. “Sounds important.” Iris laughed. “Yes.” --- Brenda came closer. Not touching yet. Iris continued. “She removed the easiest reason to go back.” Brenda's eyes held hers. There. Brenda understood immediately. Fear. Duty twisted around fear. Not duty itself. “She said if I go back because I want the ship, I should go.” Brenda nodded. “If I go back because I love the work, I should go.” Another nod. “If I go back because I want that life, I should go.” Brenda's face remained calm. Iris watched carefully. Too carefully. Brenda noticed. “What?” Iris looked away. “Nothing.” “No.” Brenda smiled slightly. “That was inspection.” Iris sighed. “Yes.” “Of me?” “Yes.” “Looking for?” Iris hesitated. “Hurt.” Brenda was quiet. Then: “There's some.” Iris looked at her immediately. Honest. Brenda continued. “The idea of you leaving tomorrow hurts.” There. No disguise. “But?” Iris asked. Brenda smiled. “But we aren't having that conversation while you're drying plates.” Iris blinked. Then laughed. Fair. Brenda kissed her cheek. “Finish the dishes.” Terrible. --- They did. Then Brenda disappeared to answer a message. Iris remained in the kitchen alone for a while. Not because she needed solitude. Because nobody required her elsewhere. She looked toward the common room. Ace had climbed onto a chair beside Mai to see the work board at eye level. Entirely unnecessary. Kiro stood on the other side. Three people arguing over resource allocation. Iris could hear enough to know the problem. She deliberately did not go solve it. They could. They had. For years. Her usefulness here did not create obligation. That mattered too. --- Iris walked toward the hallway. Passed the storage room. Stopped. Her things. Not all of them. She did not live here. Technically. Some clothing. Personal items. Things left because carrying them back and forth was stupid. Brenda had made space months ago. No ceremony. A drawer. Then another. A shelf. A section of wardrobe. Iris opened the door. Looked. Her clothes beside Brenda's. Not luggage. Not guest storage anymore. When had that happened? She could not remember. Interesting. --- She touched one shirt. Then closed the door. No conclusion. Just data. --- At 15:20, Reyes found her on the couch reading. Not pretending to read. Actually reading. Reyes dropped into the opposite chair. “How long?” Iris looked up. “What?” “Until you go back?” There. Direct. Reyes. Of course. Iris looked at her. “Tomorrow, probably. The evening slot is gone.” Reyes nodded. No visible disappointment weaponized. Then: “You coming to training before?” Iris blinked. “Today?” “Yes.” “Why?” Reyes smiled. “You're annoying now.” Iris smiled back. “Point two three?” “Fuck you.” Iris laughed. Good. Reyes stood. “Six?” Iris considered. If she was returning to Aureate II tomorrow, she should pack. If. There. “Maybe.” Reyes nodded. “Text me.” Then left. No farewell workout. No emotional trap. Training because they trained. Normal. --- At 16:03, Iris's agent vibrated. Henry. She looked at it. **HENRY: No pressure. Just checking whether I should plan around this evening.** Iris read it. Then looked around. Safehouse afternoon. Kiro repairing the coffee machine with the newly delivered valve. Ace supervising again. Mai had disappeared into a call. Shammy was working. Brenda sat cross-legged on the floor sorting some mechanical components she had promised to put away days ago. Reyes was downstairs. Nothing extraordinary. Iris looked back at Henry's message. She could answer now. She still did not know. That was an answer of its own. Not to the larger question. To tonight. She typed: **IRIS: Don't plan around 1830. I need tonight. I'm sorry.** Henry replied: **HENRY: Nothing to apologize for. Call if you need me.** Iris stared at the words. Call if you need me. Her chest tightened. She locked the screen. Not yet. --- Brenda looked up from the floor. “Everything okay?” Iris nodded. Then changed it. “I told him not to plan around this evening.” Brenda's hands stopped. There. A real reaction. Small. Her eyes lifted. “You did?” “Yes.” Silence. Brenda swallowed. Then nodded once. “Okay.” Iris watched her. This time the word cost something. Interesting. Brenda picked up another component. Continued sorting. No smile pasted over it. No celebration. No assumption. Iris crossed the room. Sat on the floor beside her. Their shoulders touched. Brenda leaned against her slightly. That was all. Enough. --- Iris picked up one of the components. “What is this?” Brenda looked. “Actuator linkage.” “For?” “Don't know yet.” Iris stared. Brenda smiled. “Parts bin.” “You're sorting unknown parts?” “By possibility.” Iris closed her eyes. “Mechanical heresy.” Brenda laughed. There. The tension loosened. Not gone. Moved. --- The afternoon continued. That was the strange part. Nothing transformed because Iris had delayed transport. No one rang a bell. No one announced that she had taken a meaningful step. Ace complained about pricing. Kiro fixed the coffee machine and then immediately tried to change its control logic. Mai prevented her. Shammy came out with paint on one hand. Reyes came back sweaty and hungry. Brenda finished sorting approximately sixty percent of the parts before becoming distracted. Iris existed among all of it. Not hosted. Not entertained. Not protected from chores because she was visiting. At one point Mai handed her a delivery receipt without explanation. Iris signed because she was closest to the door. The courier left. She put the package on the table. Nobody reacted. Five minutes later she realized what had happened. That amused her. --- Dinner planning began at eighteen. Ace wanted takeout. Mai wanted actual food. Reyes wanted more food than either plan contained. Kiro claimed the repaired coffee machine was relevant. Nobody understood why. Shammy suggested noodles. Brenda wanted pizza. Everyone talked simultaneously. Iris listened. Then: “We have enough for stew.” Silence. Ace looked at her. “Do we?” “Yes.” “How do you know?” “I checked.” “When?” Iris stopped. When had she checked? Earlier. Without consciously deciding to. She smiled faintly. “Today.” Ace nodded. “Stew.” Decision made. Apparently. Iris stared. Reyes stood. “Commander has spoken.” Iris looked at her. Reyes smiled. Not _Lieutenant._ Not ship. Just teasing. Iris laughed. “Get the onions.” Reyes saluted badly. “Hostile.” --- Dinner took time. Iris liked things that took time when nobody pretended they were urgent. She cooked with Mai. Brenda moved in and out. Ace stole ingredients. Shammy put music on. Kiro disappeared and returned carrying bread. Reyes cut onions and complained theatrically about chemical warfare. The Safehouse smelled warm. Occupied. Ordinary. Iris stood at the stove and realized she had stopped thinking about tomorrow for almost twenty minutes. That frightened her more than thinking about it constantly. Because this was not escape. She had not forgotten her life. She was simply living this one. --- Mai stood beside her. Quiet. Then: “Need anything?” Iris looked toward the pot. “No.” Mai nodded. She meant the pot. Probably. Iris appreciated that. --- They ate. Loudly. Badly organized. Ace ended up halfway in Mai's space. Shammy had taken the wrong glass and did not care. Kiro returned twice for bread. Reyes declared the stew acceptable and then ate three servings. Brenda's knee stayed against Iris's beneath the table. Iris looked around. No one had made room for her. That thought arrived first. Then corrected itself. No. They had. Long ago. That was why no one had to make room now. There. Iris stopped eating for a second. Brenda noticed. Iris shook her head. Not now. --- After dinner, Ace and Mai argued over dishes. Brenda volunteered Iris. Again. Iris objected. Again. Eventually Kiro was assigned because she had reorganized the spices. Justice. Iris sat on the couch. Her agent beside her. Henry's thread dark. Aureate II still waiting. Safehouse around her. Two real lives. Her mother had made that clearer, not less clear. Wonderful. --- Brenda sat beside her. No components now. No dishes. No audience close enough to matter. She tucked one leg beneath herself. Looked at Iris. Iris looked back. There. The conversation waiting since the kitchen. Brenda smiled faintly. “You asked me this morning why I wasn't asking when you were coming back.” “Yes.” “I think maybe we should talk about that.” Iris's heartbeat changed. Good. There it was. Not the answer. The next question. Exactly where it belonged. Iris turned toward her. “Okay.” Brenda smiled. This time the word did not annoy her. Not much. Around them, the Safehouse continued living. No one lowered the lights. No one left dramatically. No one needed to. Iris had spent the whole day inside a life nobody had asked her to choose. And that, more than anything else, was why she finally needed to ask Brenda what Brenda wanted. --- ## Chapter 4 — What Brenda Wants Brenda looked at Iris. Iris looked back. Around them, the Safehouse continued making ordinary noise. Water running briefly in the kitchen. Kiro and Reyes arguing about something with insufficient seriousness to matter. Ace laughing. Mai answering. Shammy somewhere down the hallway. No privacy engineered. Enough privacy existing naturally. Brenda shifted slightly closer. “You asked why I wasn't asking when you're coming back.” “Yes.” Brenda nodded. “I wanted to.” Iris went still. Honest. Brenda looked down at her hands. “I still want to.” Iris waited. Brenda took a breath. “When your dad messaged this morning, the first thing I thought was tonight.” Iris's chest tightened. Brenda continued. “Not Aureate II.” A small pause. “Not your work.” Another. “Tonight.” Iris understood. The empty side of the bed. The missing coffee cup. The absence that would suddenly exist everywhere Brenda had grown accustomed to Iris being. Brenda looked toward her. “I don't want you to go.” No qualification. No strategic gentleness. Just truth. Iris felt it land. Harder than she expected. “Okay.” Brenda smiled faintly. “Your turn with the terrible word.” Iris almost laughed. Almost. Then Brenda continued. “I want you here.” Her voice stayed quiet. “I want to wake up with you.” Iris swallowed. “I want to come home and know there's a reasonable chance you'll be here complaining about something Kiro reorganized.” From the kitchen: “I HEARD THAT.” Brenda looked toward the sound. “So did I.” Iris laughed. Kiro called back: “THE SPICES WERE OBJECTIVELY IMPROVED.” “No,” Iris answered. Silence. Then Reyes laughed. Brenda looked at Iris. “There.” Iris smiled. There indeed. --- Brenda's expression softened again. “I want that.” Iris looked at her. “All of it?” “All of it.” “Safehouse.” “Yes.” “This?” Brenda gestured vaguely at the room. Ace appeared briefly in the kitchen doorway carrying something. Mai took it away from her. Ace followed. Somewhere behind them Reyes accused Kiro of sabotaging dinner cleanup. Brenda smiled. “This.” Iris's mouth curved. “Dangerous.” “Extremely.” --- Then Brenda's smile faded. “But.” Iris waited. Brenda looked at her directly. “I don't need you to give it to me.” Iris frowned slightly. Brenda continued. “I want you.” The words were simple. Strong. “I don't need to choose your life for you.” Iris stopped breathing for half a second. Exactly there. Brenda held her gaze. “I can want you here and still know that it's your decision.” Iris looked down. Her mother's words earlier. Now Brenda. Different angle. Same impossible refusal to make this easy. --- “What if what I want hurts you?” Brenda answered immediately. “It probably will.” Iris looked up. Brenda smiled sadly. “If you go?” “Yes.” “Then yes.” No lie. Iris hated it. Brenda continued. “I'll miss you.” “I know.” “I'll hate waking up without you.” Iris looked down again. “I'll probably message too much.” “You already do.” “Exactly. Imagine range extension.” Iris laughed quietly. Brenda smiled. Then grew serious. “But being hurt by your choice does not make the choice wrong.” Silence. Iris stared at her. Brenda looked almost uncomfortable saying it. That mattered. This was not effortless nobility. She wanted something. Badly. She was simply refusing to weaponize that wanting. --- Iris leaned back into the couch. “What if I stay?” Brenda's breath changed. Tiny. Enough. Iris noticed. Of course. Brenda looked toward her. “I'll be happy.” “How happy?” Brenda smiled. “Obnoxiously.” Iris laughed. “Dangerous.” “Very.” Then Brenda shook her head. “But that's still not enough.” “What isn't?” “My happiness.” Iris's smile disappeared. Brenda turned slightly toward her. “If you stay because I want you to, every bad day here eventually becomes my fault.” Iris frowned. “I wouldn't—” “You might not mean to.” Fair. Brenda continued. “Every time you miss the ship.” Iris listened. “Every time you miss a watch.” A pause. “Every time your dad tells you something happened aboard and you wish you'd been there.” That one landed. Iris's chest tightened. Brenda saw. Kept going anyway. “If you stay for me, then someday you get to ask whether I took that away from you.” “I wouldn't blame you.” “I don't want you to have to decide whether you would.” Iris looked away. --- Brenda let the silence settle. Then: “And I don't want to become your excuse either.” Iris looked back. “Excuse?” “For leaving.” Brenda's expression sharpened slightly. “If you decide you don't want that life anymore, don't make me the reason.” Iris went still. There. That fear. Exactly. “I've been thinking about that.” “I know.” “How?” “You inspect me every time you mention Aureate II.” Iris sighed. Brenda smiled faintly. “You look for resentment.” “Yes.” “You look for relief when you delay something.” “Yes.” “You look for whether I think we're winning.” Iris's eyes narrowed. “Winning?” Brenda nodded. “Me versus the ship.” Iris looked horrified. “That isn't—” “I know.” Good. Brenda touched her hand. “But I think you're afraid it could become that.” Iris looked down at their fingers. “Yes.” --- Brenda squeezed once. “Then don't let it.” Iris looked at her. “How?” “Don't choose me instead of Aureate II.” The wording hurt immediately. Brenda saw. Kept holding her hand. “Choose your life.” Silence. “If that's Aureate II, go.” Iris breathed in. “If it's here, stay.” Another. “If it's something neither of us has thought of yet, then we'll figure out what that means.” Iris stared. Brenda smiled faintly. “I am not the only possible shape of your future.” “That is an extremely dangerous thing to tell your fiancée.” “I trust my fiancée.” No hesitation. Iris's throat tightened. Brenda looked at her. “And I trust that if you choose a life that includes me, it will be because you actually want it.” --- Iris rested her head against the back of the couch. Closed her eyes. “This would be easier if you were selfish.” Brenda thought. “I am selfish.” Iris opened one eye. Brenda smiled. “I want you here.” “Yes.” “I want you in my bed.” “Yes.” “I want your clothes taking over the storage room.” Iris opened both eyes. “My clothes?” “You have expanded.” “So have yours.” “Deflection.” Iris laughed. Brenda continued. “I want you at breakfast.” The humor softened. “At dinner.” Softer. “When nothing is happening.” The phrase landed harder than all the others. Brenda looked toward the common room. “I loved Palace.” Iris smiled faintly. “Yes.” “A lot.” “Yes.” “Extremely.” Iris laughed. Brenda smiled too. “But I don't want two extraordinary weeks with you and then spend the rest of the year waiting for another extraordinary week.” Iris went quiet. “I want Tuesday.” Iris's eyes burned. Brenda's voice remained steady. “I want boring Tuesday.” She smiled. “I want you annoyed because Ace put something on the wrong shelf.” From somewhere beyond the couch: “I DON'T DO THAT.” Brenda raised her voice. “YOU ABSOLUTELY DO.” Ace answered something incomprehensible. Mai laughed. Brenda turned back. “I want that.” Iris smiled through the pressure in her eyes. “Tuesday.” “Yes.” --- “And if I choose the ship?” Brenda's smile weakened. Still there. “Then I'll learn how to want Tuesday differently.” Iris's eyes closed. Fuck. That was worse. Brenda touched her cheek. “I won't like it.” “I know.” “I may complain.” “I know.” “I may come aboard recreationally and become a problem.” Iris laughed. “That is guaranteed.” “Good.” Brenda's thumb moved once along Iris's cheek. “But I won't love you less because your life isn't arranged for my convenience.” Iris covered Brenda's hand with hers. Held it. --- For several seconds neither spoke. Then Iris asked: “If you could choose for me?” Brenda's expression changed. Iris held her gaze. “No ethics.” “Dangerous start.” “No consideration for what is fair.” “Worse.” “No worrying about whether I'm making my own decision.” Brenda swallowed. Iris continued. “If you could simply choose what happens tomorrow.” Brenda looked away. For the first time in the conversation, she genuinely struggled. Good. Iris needed this answer too. Not as instruction. As truth. Brenda looked toward the hallway. The kitchen. The Safehouse. Then back. “I'd wake you up here.” Iris's breath caught. Brenda's eyes shone now. “I'd make coffee.” A small laugh. “Or Kiro would make technically superior coffee and explain why.” Iris smiled. “I'd steal your shirt.” “You already did.” “Practice.” Then Brenda's smile trembled. “And there wouldn't be a bag by the door.” There. Iris looked down. Brenda continued softly. “You wouldn't have a departure time.” Iris breathed. “You'd just…” Brenda searched. “Be here.” The simplest possible wish. Not employment. Not marriage arrangements. Not future architecture. Presence. Iris's eyes finally overflowed. One tear. Annoying. She wiped it away. Brenda looked horrified. “Shit.” Iris laughed wetly. “What?” “I made you cry.” “That was the objective.” “It absolutely was not.” Iris laughed again. Brenda smiled, eyes wet too. Human. --- Iris leaned forward. Brenda met her halfway. The kiss was soft. No escalation. No attempt to solve emotion through sex. Just contact. Brenda's hand stayed against Iris's cheek. Iris held her wrist. When they separated, they remained close. Foreheads touching. Iris whispered: “Thank you.” Brenda closed her eyes. “For making you cry?” “For answering.” “Worst possible feedback.” Iris laughed. --- They stayed close. Then Iris said: “I don't want to leave Aureate II for you.” Brenda opened her eyes. “I know.” “I don't want that to be our story.” “Then don't make it our story.” Iris looked at her. Brenda continued: “If you leave, leave because you're done being crew.” Not done with Aureate II. The distinction mattered. “If you stay here, stay because you want this life.” “And if you go back, go because you want that life.” Iris nodded slowly. Simple. Horrible. Correct. --- “What if I don't know tonight?” Brenda considered. “Then you don't know tonight.” “Henry needs an answer.” “About transport.” “Yes.” “That's logistics.” Iris smiled faintly. “You sound like Jessie.” Brenda's eyebrows rose. “I am Jessie.” “Sometimes.” “Cover slander.” Iris laughed. Good. Brenda continued. “You can tell your dad you need another day.” “I've already delayed once.” “Then delay again if you need to.” Iris looked at her. “That affects his schedule.” “Yes.” “He has a ship.” “Yes.” “He has responsibilities.” Brenda smiled. “And he has a daughter making a major life decision.” Iris went quiet. Fair. “Those things can coexist.” --- Iris leaned back. Brenda stayed beside her. Their hands remained linked. “What would you do?” Brenda looked at her. “If you were me.” “No.” Immediate. Iris sighed. “You are extremely committed to being difficult.” “Yes.” “Why no?” “Because I'm not you.” “Useful.” “I've never had Aureate II.” There. “I don't know what it feels like to stand on her deck and know the whole rhythm of the place.” Iris listened. “I don't know what it means to work beside your dad every day.” Another. “I don't know what you'd be giving up.” Brenda squeezed her hand. “So I don't get to pretend my answer would mean anything.” Iris hated everyone today. --- Kiro walked through the common room carrying a mug. Saw both women. Paused. “Coffee?” Brenda looked at Iris. Iris nodded. “Yes.” Kiro looked between them. “Two?” “Yes.” “Normal?” Iris smiled. “Please.” Kiro nodded. Walked away. No scan. No question. A minute later she returned with two mugs. Set them down. Brenda looked inside. Then toward Kiro. “This is good.” Kiro stopped. “Yes.” “I meant unusually.” Kiro frowned. “Valve stability.” Iris laughed. Kiro left. Life continued. --- Brenda picked up her coffee. Iris did too. The emotional conversation had apparently developed a beverage service. Safehouse. Of course. They drank quietly. Then Brenda said: “One thing.” Iris looked at her. “If you stay…” There. Brenda stopped. Started again. “If you decide this is the life you want…” Better. “I don't want you to become an accessory to mine.” Iris's eyebrows rose. Brenda continued. “I don't want you just living at Safehouse because I live here.” Iris listened. “I don't want you waiting around while everyone else has jobs and operations and lives.” That mattered. “You need your own thing.” “Yes.” “Whatever that is.” “Yes.” “And I'm not choosing that either.” Iris smiled. “Thank God.” Brenda laughed. “Good.” Brenda left the future unfilled. If Iris stayed, she would need to build. Not merely attach. That made staying feel more real. And more frightening. --- Iris looked around. The work board had gone dark. Ace and Mai were now on the floor arguing over some tiny device. Shammy had emerged and was watching. Reyes had returned with water. Kiro was still talking about coffee-machine architecture to nobody who wanted to hear it. This life had work. Structure. Responsibilities. Not yet Iris's. That distinction mattered. Aureate II already had a role carved exactly to her shape. Here, there would be space. Uncertain space. She would have to decide what to build inside it. Interesting. --- Brenda looked at her. “You're doing it again.” “What?” “Thinking loudly.” Iris smiled. “My mother said the same thing about herself.” “Family trait.” “Apparently.” Brenda rested her head against Iris's shoulder. No more questions. For a while. --- At 21:14, Henry messaged. Iris felt the vibration. Did not open it immediately. Brenda felt it too. Lifted her head. “Dad?” “Probably.” Brenda shifted away enough to give her room. Iris opened the message. **HENRY: I'm home. No urgency, but let me know what you're thinking about transport when you're ready.** Iris stared. Home. Rourke home. Her father there now. She could call. Could go. Could ask him. Her mother's warning returned. _Decide what you want before you make his feelings part of the equation._ Iris locked the screen. Brenda watched. “Not tonight?” Iris shook her head. “No.” Good. --- She opened the calendar instead. Tomorrow. Blank now where transport had been. Aureate II duty cycle still beyond it. Waiting. Then she stood. Brenda looked up. “What?” “I need to pack.” There. Brenda's expression changed. Pain. Immediate. Controlled but not hidden. Iris saw. Brenda nodded. “Okay.” Iris almost stopped. That was the danger. Exactly. Brenda stood too. “I'll stay out of the way.” “No.” Brenda looked toward her. Iris took her hand. “I don't need you out of the way.” Brenda swallowed. “Okay.” That word again. Different every time. --- They walked toward their room together. At the doorway Iris stopped. Looked at Brenda. “I haven't decided.” “I know.” “Packing doesn't mean I've decided.” “I know.” “I need tomorrow to be real.” Brenda's eyes shone. She nodded. “I know.” Iris squeezed her hand. Then entered. The bag was where it always was. Storage compartment. Familiar. Ready. Iris pulled it out. Set it on the bed. Brenda stood beside her. No protest. No attempt to help yet. The empty bag waited. Aureate II waited. Safehouse moved around them beyond the door. Two lives. Both real. Both wanted. Iris opened the bag. Tomorrow needed to be possible in both directions. Only then would the choice mean anything. --- ## Chapter 5 — Packed The bag opened across the bed. Iris looked into it. Empty. Brenda stood beside her for another moment. Then sat on the edge of the bed. Not in front of the bag. Not between Iris and the wardrobe. Simply there. Iris opened the first drawer. The one containing considerably more of her clothing than a person who technically did not live here should have possessed. She took out underwear. Folded it. Packed it. Two shirts. A pair of trousers. Another shirt. Brenda watched for perhaps thirty seconds. Then reached for her agent. Nothing performative. No brave little smile. No attempt to look as though packing had no effect on her. She simply gave Iris room to do it. That was somehow worse. --- Iris opened the wardrobe. Aureate II did not require her to transport an entire life every rotation. Most of what she needed for duty already existed where it belonged. Uniforms. Work equipment. Personal items. The cabin she had occupied for years. This bag was the transition between lives. Clothes for the journey. Things accumulated at Safehouse. Things she would want during the first days back. Ordinary. She knew exactly how to pack it. She had done this many times. That should have helped. It did. A little. --- Brenda looked up when Iris reached for a charger. “Wrong one.” Iris stopped. Looked at her hand. Then at Brenda. “This is mine.” “Yes.” “So?” “You left the fast charger here last time. That's the slow one.” Iris stared. Brenda pointed toward the bedside cabinet. “Bottom drawer.” Iris opened it. Fast charger. Of course. She looked back. Brenda smiled. “Don't leave badly equipped.” There. Iris swallowed. “Thank you.” “I'm selfish, not incompetent.” Iris laughed quietly. Packed the charger. --- The bag slowly acquired shape. Nothing dramatic. That mattered. A folded shirt did not know whether it was helping Iris leave forever or merely preparing her for another rotation. A charger did not care. Toiletries. Personal electronics. A book she had been halfway through before Palace and had barely touched since. Iris held it. Looked at the cover. Brenda glanced up. “You hated that.” “I did not.” “You complained about it for forty minutes.” “The author made poor assumptions.” “You called one chapter an assault on causality.” “It was.” Brenda smiled. “Take it.” Iris looked at her. “Why?” “So you can finish being angry.” Fair. She packed it. --- The next drawer held one of the things Crystal Palace had added. Not a grand souvenir. A small fabric band from the Zero-G Games. Participant issue. Almost disposable. Iris picked it up. Brenda saw. Her mouth curved. “Winner.” Iris looked at her. “Participant.” “Winner.” “The marker is enough.” “Incorrect.” Iris considered leaving the band behind. That felt wrong. She put it into the bag. Not because Aureate II needed proof of what she had done. Because it belonged to her. Brenda said nothing. Good. --- Iris moved to the small section of shelving she had gradually occupied. A few personal tools. Two data modules. A compact repair kit. One old paperback. A photograph. She stopped. The photograph was not new. Brenda and Iris. Months ago. Not Palace. Not Safehouse either. A casual picture taken during a day neither of them had considered important enough to remember before the image existed. Brenda laughing at something outside frame. Iris looking at Brenda rather than the camera. She picked it up. Brenda's eyes lifted. No comment. Iris turned the photograph once between her fingers. She had kept another copy aboard Aureate II. This one could stay here. She put it back. Then frowned. Was that a decision? No. There was already one aboard. Data. Nothing more. She continued packing. --- Brenda eventually stood. Iris looked toward her immediately. “What?” “I'm getting water.” “Oh.” Brenda paused. “Did you think I was leaving?” “No.” Too fast. Brenda smiled faintly. “Water?” “Yes.” “Want one?” “Yes.” Brenda disappeared. Iris stood alone with the open bag. The room changed immediately. Not physically. It simply became quieter. She looked around. Brenda's clothes. Her clothes. The bed. The bedside tables. The shirt Brenda had stolen that morning now lying over the back of a chair. Iris picked it up. Folded it. Then stopped. Her shirt. Technically. Brenda had worn it. Iris looked toward the bag. Then toward Brenda's side of the wardrobe. She put the shirt into Brenda's section. There. Not everything needed to travel merely because it belonged to her. --- Brenda returned with two glasses. Saw where the shirt had gone. Did not mention it. Handed Iris water. “Thanks.” “You're welcome.” She sat again. This time she opened a message. Iris resumed packing. --- Ten minutes passed. Then Brenda laughed at something on her agent. Small. Unexpected. Iris looked over. “What?” Brenda turned the display. Jessie business thread. A Palace hospitality contact had sent a photograph of a service corridor with a handwritten note attached to a supposedly secure panel. **TEMPORARY FIX — DO NOT REMOVE** Iris stared. Then: “That has been there for at least six months.” Brenda looked at her. “How can you know?” “The label has been replaced twice.” Brenda zoomed. Two adhesive ghosts beneath it. “Oh.” Iris smiled. “Temporary.” Brenda laughed. Then forwarded it to Kiro. Within six seconds: **KIRO: NO.** Brenda showed Iris. Iris laughed. Normal. Again. Even here. Even with the bag open. --- Her agent vibrated at 21:37. Henry. Iris picked it up. **HENRY: I'm going to turn in early. No need to decide tonight if you're not ready. Message me in the morning.** She stared. Then another message appeared. **HENRY: Your cabin isn't going anywhere.** Iris's throat tightened. Brenda could not see the screen from where she sat. Iris was grateful for that for three seconds. Then she turned it toward her. Brenda read. Her expression softened. No triumph. No pain sharpened into meaning. Just: “That's your dad.” “Yes.” “He knows something's wrong.” “Yes.” “Does he know what?” “No.” Brenda looked at the message again. “Good dad.” Iris smiled faintly. “Yes.” Very. --- She typed: **IRIS: Thanks. I'll message in the morning. Good night, Dad.** The response came almost immediately. **HENRY: Good night. Love you.** Iris stared at it. There. No conditional. No crew role. No schedule. Just her father. She locked the agent. Set it down carefully. Brenda remained quiet. Iris took a breath. Then another. “I hate my mother.” Brenda's eyebrows rose. “That's new.” “She was right.” “About?” Iris looked at Henry's dark screen. “Everything relevant.” Brenda smiled faintly. “Terrible.” “Yes.” --- Iris returned to the bag. There were fewer things left to pack now. That surprised her. She had expected the process to take longer. Maybe because emotionally it had. She checked her toiletries. Closed one compartment. Opened another. Counted. Brenda watched. “You're doing the thing.” Iris looked over. “What thing?” “Checking something that you already checked.” “I did not.” “You counted the adapters twice.” Iris stared. Brenda smiled. “Three times now.” Iris looked down at the adapters. Fine. She zipped the compartment. --- “Do you want help?” Brenda asked. Iris looked at her. Not afraid of the question. “No.” Brenda nodded. “Okay.” Iris smiled. “You can stay.” “I planned to.” “Good.” There. No contradiction. She wanted to pack herself. She wanted Brenda in the room. Both true. --- The final clothing item was a sweater. Iris held it. Old. Comfortable. Something she wore aboard when off duty because the climate control in one section of Aureate II consistently ran colder than specification and had resisted three generations of complaints. Brenda knew it. “That one.” Iris looked at her. “What?” “I like that one.” Iris smiled. “It's ugly.” “Yes.” “You steal it.” “Yes.” “Then why should I take it?” Brenda's smile wavered for only an instant. “Because it's yours.” There. Iris looked down. Packed it. Brenda breathed out quietly. Neither pretended that had been easy. --- The bag was nearly full. Iris sat beside it. For the first time since opening it, she stopped moving. Brenda remained in the chair now. They looked at each other. Iris said: “I can still go.” Brenda swallowed. “Yes.” “I mean it.” “I know.” Iris looked toward the bag. “Aureate II is still…” She searched. “Mine.” Brenda nodded. “I know.” “The work is mine.” “Yes.” “My cabin.” “Yes.” “The crew.” “Yes.” “Dad.” Brenda's expression softened. “Yes.” Iris looked at her. “And this is mine too.” Brenda's breathing changed. Tiny. She did not answer immediately. Then: “Yes.” Not: _More._ Not: _Now._ Just yes. Iris looked down at the bag. Two lives. Neither hypothetical. Good. --- She closed the main zipper. The sound felt far too final. Iris stared at it. Brenda stood. For a moment Iris thought she might come closer. She did not. Instead Brenda picked up the empty water glasses. “Kitchen?” Iris looked at her. “You're leaving me alone with this?” Brenda's eyebrows rose. “You asked me not to help.” “With packing.” “Ah.” She put the glasses down again. Iris laughed. “Come here.” Brenda did. Immediately. No hesitation now. Iris wrapped her arms around her. Brenda held her hard. There was nothing delicate about it. No pretence that tomorrow did not matter. Brenda pressed her face against Iris's neck. Iris closed her eyes. For several seconds, neither spoke. Then Brenda whispered: “I really don't want you to go.” Iris tightened her arms. “I know.” “I needed to say it once more.” “You can.” “I know.” No manipulation. No demand. Truth allowed to exist. --- Iris drew back enough to look at her. Brenda's eyes were wet. Not crying yet. Close. Iris touched her face. “You're making this difficult.” Brenda gave a tiny laugh. “I've been trying very hard not to.” “That makes it worse.” “Sorry.” “No.” Iris kissed her. Slow. Tender. No heat demanded from it. No need to turn fear into anything else. Brenda kissed her back. When they separated, she stayed close. “I love you.” “I love you too.” There. Still not an answer. --- They carried the bag into the common room together. Iris carried it. Brenda carried nothing. Important to Iris for reasons she did not examine too closely. The others were still awake. Ace sat on the floor. Mai on the couch behind her. Shammy had taken over one corner. Kiro was reading. Reyes was stretching after her earlier training session. Every head turned when Iris appeared with the bag. One beat. Only one. Then Ace looked toward Brenda. Brenda looked back. Nothing exchanged visibly enough to become theater. Mai asked: “Ready?” Iris looked at the bag. “Yes.” True. Packed was ready. Not decided. Mai nodded. “Okay.” That was all. Thank God. --- Iris set the bag beside the wall near the hallway rather than by the exterior door. Close enough. Ready enough. Ace looked at it. Then at Iris. “You're still here tonight.” “Yes.” Ace smiled. “Good.” No tomorrow. No plea. Just tonight. Iris smiled back. “Yes.” --- Reyes finished stretching. “You skipped training.” Iris looked toward her. “I did.” Reyes nodded. “Coward.” Iris smiled. “Point two three.” Reyes pointed at her. “There she is.” Good. No farewell. Iris could still train with Reyes next week. Or next month. Or whenever. Regardless of where she lived. That thought arrived easily now. Relationships did not collapse because geography changed. Palace had already proved that. Her mother had said the same thing differently. Interesting. --- Kiro closed her reader. “Need transport in the morning?” Iris stopped. “I don't know.” Kiro nodded. “Message me when you do.” No scheduling pressure. No assumption. “Thank you.” Kiro reopened the reader. Done. --- Shammy looked at Iris. Then toward the bag. Then back. “Tea?” Iris smiled. “Yes.” Shammy stood. Ace immediately lifted one hand. “Me too.” Mai: “No caffeine.” “Tea can be non-caffeine.” “Can be.” Ace looked toward Shammy. “Traitor test.” Shammy laughed. “Herbal.” Ace nodded solemnly. “Accepted.” Iris sat. The bag remained visible from the couch. She did not move it. --- They stayed up longer than usual. Not because anyone declared it a final night. That would have been unbearable. People simply failed to go to bed. Ace told a story. Reyes corrected it. Ace objected. Kiro fact-checked something that had not needed facts. Mai eventually stole Kiro's agent to stop her. Shammy received a message from Imani and disappeared for ten minutes to answer it privately. Brenda sat beside Iris. Their legs touching. Sometimes their hands. No one filled the evening with significance. The significance managed fine on its own. --- At 23:18, Mai stood. “Bed.” Ace looked up. “Not tired.” “You fell asleep seven minutes ago.” “I was thinking.” “With your eyes closed.” “Efficient.” Mai held out one hand. Ace took it. No argument. Shammy followed. Reyes disappeared shortly afterward. Kiro checked the repaired coffee machine one final time before Mai called from the hallway: “Leave it.” Kiro stared toward the sound. Then obeyed. Miracles. --- Brenda and Iris remained. Quiet Safehouse. Lights lower now. Bag against the wall. Iris looked at it. Brenda did too. Then: “Want me to move it?” Iris looked toward her. “No.” “Okay.” Iris smiled faintly. “That word.” Brenda smiled. “Still useful.” “Yes.” --- They went to bed. No bag in the bedroom. That mattered somehow. Iris changed. Brenda did too. Ordinary sleep clothes. No deliberate seduction. No attempt to make a possible last night before another rotation unforgettable. They had enough unforgettable nights. What Iris needed was one she could imagine repeating. Brenda climbed into bed. Iris followed. The lights went out. --- Darkness. Brenda turned toward her. Iris felt the mattress shift. Then Brenda's hand found hers beneath the sheet. Linked fingers. No speech. Iris looked into the dark. Her mind supplied Aureate II. Morning light across water. Henry. The first step aboard. Crew greetings. The familiar vibration beneath her feet. Her station. Her cabin. Competence fitting around her like clothing. She wanted it. That was still true. Good. --- Then Safehouse. Coffee arguments. Ace stealing food. Mai organizing chaos. Shammy laughing. Kiro rearranging things that had not asked to be improved. Reyes challenging anything that could become competition. Brenda beside her. Tuesday. Stew. Dishes. A shirt in the wrong wardrobe section because nobody knew anymore which section was wrong. She wanted that too. Still true. Good. --- Brenda squeezed her hand once. Iris squeezed back. “You awake?” Brenda whispered. “Yes.” “Me too.” Silence. Then Brenda: “I'm not going to ask.” Iris smiled into the dark. “I know.” “Good.” Another silence. Iris turned toward her. Their foreheads touched. “I packed.” “I know.” “I needed to.” “I know.” Iris breathed. “If I go tomorrow, I need it to be because I chose to go.” “Yes.” “And if I stay—” She stopped. Brenda waited. Iris tried again. “If I stay, I need to know I could have left.” Brenda's fingers tightened around hers. “Yes.” There. She understood. Of course. --- They kissed once. Soft. Then settled together. Iris closed her eyes. No decision came. She did not force one. The bag was packed. Aureate II was possible. Safehouse was possible. Brenda had told the truth. Her mother had told the truth. Henry had given her time without knowing why. Every exit remained open. For the first time, that felt less like being trapped between two lives. It felt like choice. Iris let herself sleep. Tomorrow morning could have the answer. --- ## Chapter 6 — This Is the Life I Want Iris woke before Brenda. Again. This time there was no message. No alarm. No Kiro swearing at machinery. No obvious reason. She simply opened her eyes. Dark room. Brenda beside her. Warm. One hand beneath the pillow. Hair everywhere. Breathing slow. Iris lay still. For several seconds, nothing existed beyond the bed. Then memory returned. The bag. Packed. Common room. Aureate II. Today. Iris closed her eyes again. No answer arrived. Fine. She had slept. That was already progress. --- Brenda moved slightly. Not awake. Her foot found Iris's ankle beneath the sheet. Contact. Automatic. Iris smiled. Tuesday. The thought came from nowhere. Brenda had said it yesterday. _I want Tuesday._ This was not Tuesday. That did not matter. It was morning. Ordinary enough. Maybe ordinary was the point. --- Iris looked toward the clock. 06:11. If yesterday's original transport plan had remained in place, she would already have been aboard Aureate II for hours. Probably through the first handover. Coffee finished. Questions answered. The familiar rhythm already closing around her again. The sequence was so familiar she could feel it without doing any of it. She pictured Henry. Driving. Talking about something practical. Weather. Traffic. A systems issue. Nothing emotional until emotion became unavoidable. Then boarding. Crew. Work. The ship accepting her back without ceremony. Her cabin exactly where she had left it. Her life waiting. Iris felt the pull. Real. Strong. No resentment. She needed that truth. --- Brenda inhaled. Opened one eye. Saw Iris awake. Then closed it. “Morning.” “Morning.” “Decision?” Iris blinked. Brenda opened one eye again. Then smiled. “Joke.” Iris stared. Brenda laughed softly. “Too early?” “Much.” “Sorry.” “No, you're not.” “No.” There. Normal. Iris smiled. --- Brenda rolled onto her back. Stretched. Then looked toward Iris. “Coffee?” “Yes.” “Now?” “Yes.” Brenda sighed. “Cruel.” “You offered.” “I regret things.” “Frequently.” They got up. No ceremony. No discussion of the bag. Not yet. --- The common room was empty. Interesting. Rare. Iris entered first. Brenda behind her. The bag still sat where Iris had left it. Against the wall. Packed. Ready. Iris saw it immediately. So did Brenda. Neither commented. Brenda continued toward the kitchen. Iris followed. --- The coffee machine worked. Kiro had won. Of course. Brenda pressed the control. The machine made one smooth sound. No resistance. Brenda looked impressed. “Terrifying.” Iris smiled. “She'll never let this go.” “No.” Two mugs. Coffee. Brenda handed one over. Iris took it. They stood side by side. Not sitting yet. Morning light just beginning to reach the windows. Safehouse quiet. Too quiet. Then footsteps. Ace. Barefoot. Black hair flattened on one side. Violet eyes barely open. She entered. Stopped. Looked at the coffee. Then at Brenda. Then Iris. “Coffee.” Brenda smiled. “Good morning.” Ace held out both hands. “Coffee.” Iris laughed. Brenda made another. Ace accepted it like emergency medicine. --- Mai appeared two minutes later. Fully awake. Unfair. She looked at Ace. Then the coffee. Then Iris. “Morning.” “Morning.” Mai's eyes flicked briefly toward the bag. One beat. Then away. No question. She started breakfast. Of course. --- Shammy arrived next. Then Kiro. Then Reyes. The Safehouse assembled itself. No one called anyone. People simply appeared. Kiro inspected the coffee machine before drinking anything. Brenda saw. “It's working.” Kiro nodded. “I know.” “Then why inspect?” “Trust but verify.” Reyes looked over. “You repaired it.” “Yes.” “So you don't trust yourself.” Kiro frowned. Reyes smiled. “Interesting.” Ace pointed. “Psychological vulnerability.” Kiro looked at her. “You were unconscious five minutes ago.” Ace took another drink. “Recovered.” Iris smiled into her coffee. This. --- Breakfast grew around them. Not planned. Mai cooked eggs. Reyes found bread. Shammy brought fruit. Ace contributed by moving things around until Mai told her to sit. Kiro discovered that someone had moved the salt back. She looked toward Iris. Iris looked back. Kiro sighed. Accepted defeat. Brenda sat beside Iris. Their knees touched beneath the table. No one discussed departure. Not because they had forgotten. Because morning came first. --- Ace took one bite. Then looked around. “What are we doing today?” Mai looked at her. “Work.” Ace frowned. “After breakfast.” “Yes.” “Then?” Mai considered. “Kiro has the Palace hospitality estimate.” Kiro nodded. “Revised.” “Jessie has two remote consults.” Brenda looked over. “Later.” “Reyes?” Reyes took a drink. “Training.” “Shammy?” Shammy smiled. “Studio.” Ace looked toward Iris. Nothing deliberate. Just following the circle. “And you?” There. Iris stopped. Everyone noticed. No one moved. Ace's expression changed immediately. Not pressure. Recognition that she had walked into something. She opened her mouth. Iris answered first. “I don't know.” Ace nodded. “Okay.” Then looked toward Mai. “What about lunch?” Conversation moved. Just like that. Iris stared at Ace for half a second. Tiny woman. Huge capacity for accidental chaos. Occasional perfect restraint. --- The question remained anyway. _And you?_ Iris looked toward the bag. From the table, she could see only part of it. Black fabric. Ready. She could stand after breakfast. Pick it up. Message Henry. Tell him she was coming. A vehicle could be here within minutes. Nothing prevented it. No one would stop her. That mattered. --- She imagined doing it. The thought did not hurt. That surprised her. She had expected pain to be useful. Some clean emotional signal. No. She could go. She could kiss Brenda goodbye. Hold her. Promise to message. Leave. Return aboard. Work. Call home. Visit Safehouse when schedules allowed. Take leave. Come back. See Palace again eventually. Nothing would collapse. She could build a good life that way. She already had. Iris looked down at her coffee. Then why was she still here? --- Reyes said something. Everyone laughed. Iris missed it. Brenda looked toward her. Noticed. Then deliberately turned back to Reyes. No interruption. Iris appreciated that. --- Breakfast ended gradually. Ace remained at the table because standing would imply work. Mai stood anyway. Kiro carried dishes. Shammy took fruit with her. Reyes disappeared downstairs. Brenda collected mugs. Iris stood. The room shifted into day. No one waiting for her. The bag did. --- She walked toward it. Stopped. There. Black fabric. Closed zippers. Chargers. Clothes. Book. Zero-G Games band. Everything required to make departure possible. Iris bent. Put one hand on the handle. Brenda was in the kitchen. She could hear water. Mai talking to Ace. Kiro somewhere nearby. Normal sounds. Iris lifted the bag. Weight. Familiar. Manageable. She stood. For one heartbeat, the entire future felt astonishingly simple. Door. Vehicle. Rourke home. Henry. Ship. Go. She turned toward the Safehouse door. --- Ace's voice came from behind her. “Mai, where did you put my—” Mai: “Which one?” “The black—” “They are all black.” “The useful one.” “That does not narrow it.” Ace: “It narrows it emotionally.” Reyes laughed from downstairs. Shammy shouted: “Top shelf!” Ace: “THANK YOU.” Mai: “How did she know?” Shammy: “I live here.” Iris stopped. Not because of the words. Because of how little they meant. How ordinary. How completely woven together. _I live here._ Iris looked down at the bag. Then back toward the common room. --- Brenda emerged from the kitchen carrying two mugs. Saw Iris standing with the bag. Stopped. Everything in her face changed. Pain first. Then control. Then love. No protest. She put the mugs down. Walked toward Iris. Not blocking the door. Never. She stopped close. Looked at the bag. Then Iris. “Okay.” There. Again. That word. This time Iris heard what it cost. Brenda smiled faintly. “Want me to call a car?” Iris's throat tightened. She could say yes. Brenda would do it. That was the terrible beauty of the situation. No one here would make leaving impossible. Iris looked at her. Then at the door. Then back. --- She imagined the next hour. Brenda carrying nothing because Iris had asked. A final hug. Ace pretending not to be emotional. Mai not pretending. Shammy soft. Kiro practical. Reyes direct. Then outside. Gone. Not forever. Just gone. Back to the life she knew. Iris breathed. Something inside her shifted. Not rejection. Recognition. --- She looked past Brenda. The Safehouse. Coffee cups. Ace's abandoned plate. Kiro's repaired machine. A jacket over the wrong chair. Shammy's tablet. Reyes's water bottle. Mai's work display waiting to activate. The tiny glowing Palace tram on the shelf. Her own shirt in Brenda's wardrobe. A drawer no one called a guest drawer anymore. The stupid Zero-G Games marker still sitting where Brenda had put it. None of it extraordinary. No Crystal Palace. No gala. No zero gravity. No two men. No champagne. No dramatic proof of freedom. Just morning. This morning. Tomorrow morning. Tuesday. --- Iris looked at Brenda. Her fiancée was part of the answer. Not the whole of it. Brenda had been right. If this were only about Brenda, Iris could carry love between lives. She already knew how. The answer was larger. Iris looked around again. She wanted the noise. The stupid arguments. The shared meals. The work bleeding accidentally into lunch. Reyes challenging her. Kiro reorganizing things. Ace creating problems. Mai solving three before breakfast. Shammy disappearing into art and returning covered in evidence. Brenda stealing shirts. People coming and going. Partners arriving. People leaving for days and returning. A life with doors opening constantly. A life where she did not already know exactly what came next. Not vacation. Not indulgence. Not permission. Daily life. Her life. There. --- The thought formed quietly. No revelation. No thunder. Just words finally matching something that had already become true. **This is the life I want.** Iris stopped breathing. Brenda saw. “Iris?” Iris looked at her. Everything suddenly felt very still. The bag remained in her hand. Possible. Still possible. That mattered. She could leave. She simply did not want to. Choice. --- Iris lowered the bag. Set it on the floor. Not against the wall. Not by the door. Just down. Brenda stared. No assumption yet. Good woman. Iris looked at her. “Ask me.” Brenda swallowed. “What?” “The question you've been refusing to ask.” Brenda's eyes immediately filled. She knew. Still: “Are you staying?” Iris smiled. “Yes.” Brenda's breath broke. There. One word. No qualifiers. No maybe. No _for now._ Yes. --- Brenda covered her mouth. Then laughed. Then started crying. All at once. Iris felt her own eyes burn. Brenda shook her head. “Sorry.” Iris laughed. “For what?” “I had a better reaction planned.” “You weren't supposed to plan.” “I know.” Brenda wiped at her eyes. Failed. Iris stepped closer. Brenda looked at her. Then asked: “Because you want it?” The question was harder than any of the others because it was the only one that mattered. Iris nodded. “Yes.” Brenda's face collapsed completely. There was no victory in it, no relief disguised as ownership. Just love. She crossed the remaining distance. Iris caught her. Held her. Brenda cried against her shoulder. Quietly at first. Then not quietly. Iris closed her eyes. Held tighter. --- Ace appeared in the common-room doorway. Saw. Stopped. Mai nearly walked into her. “What—” Ace lifted one hand. Mai saw Brenda crying in Iris's arms and went still. Shammy emerged behind them. Kiro looked up. Reyes came halfway up the stairs. Everyone saw the bag on the floor. Nobody asked what it meant. Nobody intruded. For a few more seconds, the room simply let Brenda hold her. --- Brenda pulled back enough to look at Iris. “You're sure?” “Yes.” “You haven't talked to your dad.” “No.” Brenda's joy softened immediately. She knew what came next. Iris touched her cheek. “I need to.” “Yes.” “At home.” Brenda nodded. “Today?” “Yes.” “Do you want me with you?” Iris considered. Then shook her head. “No.” Brenda closed her eyes for one second. Not hurt. Understanding. “Okay.” Iris smiled. “I need to tell him myself.” “I know.” --- Brenda looked toward the bag. Then back. “What now?” Iris laughed. “I don't know.” The uncertainty almost made her laugh now that the larger answer existed. Brenda smiled through tears. “Excellent.” Iris kissed her forehead. Then looked toward the others. Six faces. Every one of them trying very hard not to turn inference into a question. Ace's violet eyes had already gone suspiciously wet. Mai's hand rested lightly on her shoulder. Shammy watched with quiet warmth. Kiro had clearly abandoned whatever she had been doing. Reyes remained halfway up the stairs. Iris loved them for waiting. “I need to talk to my dad before I say anything else.” Ace nodded immediately. “Okay.” Mai did too. Shammy smiled. Kiro looked down once. Reyes exhaled. No one asked for confirmation. No one made Iris promise what she would say afterward. The bag remained exactly where Iris had set it. Possible departure still visible. Possible return to this room equally visible. Brenda took Iris's hand. Ace looked around. Then, with extraordinary restraint: “Breakfast?” Iris laughed. “Yes.” That was enough. For now. --- Then Henry entered her thoughts. Not physically. Enough. Joy softened. Brenda saw. “Your dad.” “Yes.” The room quieted. No one offered strategy. No one told her what Henry would say. Iris took her agent from her pocket. Looked at the Rourke thread. Then at the time. 07:02. Early. Too early for dropping a life decision onto someone's breakfast without warning. Maybe. Then she smiled faintly. Henry was almost certainly awake. Of course he was. Still. This deserved more than a message. She opened the thread. Typed: **IRIS: Are you and Mom home this morning? I need to come by.** She read it. Sent. --- The response arrived in under a minute. **HENRY: Yes. Everything okay?** Iris looked at Brenda. Brenda held her gaze. No fear now. Not because the difficult part was over. Because Iris had already chosen. Henry's reaction mattered. Deeply. It just could not change the answer. There. Her mother's lesson. Iris typed: **IRIS: Yes. I need to talk to you in person.** A pause. Then: **HENRY: All right. Come whenever you're ready.** Iris closed her eyes. Breathed. Opened them. --- Brenda touched her arm. “Coffee first.” Iris looked at her. “What?” “You're not telling your father you're leaving his crew without breakfast.” Reyes nodded. “Correct.” Kiro: “Blood glucose.” Ace pointed. “See? Technical approval.” Mai smiled. Iris laughed. Tension broke enough to survive. --- They sat again. Breakfast had gone cold. Nobody cared. Mai reheated things. Reyes found more bread. Shammy made tea. Kiro repaired nothing. Ace sat beside Iris. Brenda on the other side. No one treated Iris like she might change her mind if left unattended. That might have been the greatest gift of all. --- Iris ate. Slowly. Looked around. The decision did not make Safehouse suddenly perfect. The coffee machine would break again. Ace would be impossible. Kiro would rearrange the spices. Reyes would beat her in free-volume low-g for a long time. Shammy would cover surfaces in art. Mai would overwork. Brenda would steal her shirts. O'Sullivan SAS had too much work and no idea what organizational shape it wanted to become. Night City remained dangerous. Chaotic. Frequently stupid. This was not paradise. It was life. The one she wanted. --- After breakfast, Iris stood. Brenda stood too. They looked at each other. No crying this time. Maybe. Brenda touched Iris's jacket. “Go tell your dad.” Iris nodded. “Yes.” Then Brenda kissed her. Soft. Strong. No fear inside it. When they separated: “I'll be here.” Iris smiled. “I know.” This time the sentence felt different. Not because Brenda would be waiting for an answer. The answer existed. Brenda would simply be here when Iris came home. Home. Iris turned toward the door. Behind her, the Safehouse resumed breathing. Ahead waited Rourke house. Her mother. Her father. A conversation she dreaded. A man she loved. A ship she still loved too. Nothing about that had become easier. Good. It deserved to matter. Iris opened the door. And left to tell her father that the life she wanted was no longer the one he expected her to return to. --- ## Chapter 7 — I’m Not Coming Back With You Henry opened the door before Iris touched the access control. She stopped. He stood there in an old shirt and dark trousers. No uniform. No captain's jacket. No Aureate II insignia. Just her father. That helped. A little. “Morning.” “Morning.” Henry looked at her face. Not suspiciously. Carefully. Then stepped aside. “Come in.” Iris entered. The door closed behind her. Home. The other one. --- Her mother appeared from the kitchen. One look at Iris. One look at Henry. Then: “I made coffee.” Henry looked toward her. “You always make coffee.” “Yes.” “Why did that sound significant?” “It didn't.” Henry frowned. Iris almost laughed. Her mother caught Iris's eye. Nothing explicit. No secret signal. Just recognition. Then she walked back toward the kitchen. Henry looked at Iris again. “Coffee?” “Yes.” Something to do with hands. --- They went into the kitchen. Same table. Same scratch. Iris noticed it immediately. Of course. Henry sat where he usually sat. Iris took the same chair as yesterday. Her mother put coffee in front of both of them. Then remained standing for one moment. Iris looked at her. Henry noticed. His eyes moved between them. “You two talked yesterday.” Not a question. Iris nodded. “Yes.” Henry looked toward his wife. She smiled. “We had coffee.” Henry's eyes narrowed. “I've been married to you too long.” “Apparently not long enough.” Then she touched Iris's shoulder. “I'll be upstairs.” Henry looked toward her. “You don't have to leave.” “I know.” She looked at Iris. Iris understood. Space. Not absence. “Thanks, Mom.” Her mother smiled. Then left. Footsteps up the stairs. A door closing somewhere above. Quiet. --- Henry took a drink. Iris did too. Neither spoke. This was absurd. Iris had rehearsed the first sentence in the vehicle. Then abandoned it. Rehearsed another at the door. Lost that too. Now she sat opposite her father with coffee and nothing useful. Henry waited. He was good at that. Too good. Eventually he said: “You said everything was okay.” “It is.” He nodded. “I believe you.” That made it harder. Henry put the mug down. “But you don't ask to talk to me in person at seven in the morning because everything is ordinary.” Iris looked at him. “No.” “So.” Same family. Of course. --- Iris put both hands around her mug. Then immediately removed them. She did not need the coffee as armor. She looked at Henry. “I made a decision.” His expression changed. Barely. Attention sharpening. “About Aureate II.” Henry did not move. Iris continued before she could start measuring every reaction. “I’m not coming back with you.” Silence. The refrigerator hummed. Something moved in the plumbing upstairs. Henry looked at her. Not confused. Not really. He understood too quickly. Still: “Tomorrow?” Iris held his eyes. “No.” Henry breathed in. Slow. His gaze dropped to the table for one second. Then returned. “As crew.” “Yes.” No escape now. The words existed. Iris felt strangely calm. Her hands were not. She put them beneath the table. --- Henry leaned back. Looked toward the kitchen window. Morning outside. Ordinary. He stayed that way for several seconds. Iris did not fill them. Her mother's warning returned. _Every pause._ Yes. She was already reading him. She stopped. Not solving. Just waiting. Henry finally nodded once. Small. “Okay.” The word hit Iris almost as hard as Brenda's versions had. She looked at him. Henry gave a faint, humorless smile. “That doesn't mean I like it.” “I know.” “Good.” He picked up the mug. Did not drink. Set it down again. “What changed?” Fair question. Iris thought. “A lot.” “Crystal Palace?” “Partly.” Henry's mouth moved slightly. Not judgment. Recognition. “Two weeks is a long time.” “Yes.” “And not long at all.” Iris smiled faintly. “Exactly.” --- Henry looked at her. “Are you leaving because something happened aboard?” “No.” “Something I missed?” “No.” “Someone?” “No.” His eyes stayed on hers. “Me?” Iris's chest tightened. “No.” Immediate. Strong enough that Henry's expression changed. Iris leaned forward. “No. Dad.” He looked at her. “This is not because of you.” Henry nodded slowly. Iris continued. “I love Aureate II.” “I know.” “I love the work.” “I know.” “I love the crew.” “Yes.” “And I love working with you.” Henry looked away. That one hurt. Iris saw. Did not retreat. “I haven't stopped wanting any of those things to have mattered.” Henry's eyes returned. “They still matter.” “Yes.” “I haven't decided the last years were wrong.” “Good.” “They weren't.” Henry nodded. --- “Then why?” There it was. Not accusation. Real question. Iris breathed. Because Brenda. No. Because Palace. No. Because Safehouse. Closer. Because all of it. She looked around the kitchen. Family home. A place she had left and still belonged to. Then back to Henry. “I found another life I want more.” Henry went very still. Harder than: _I don't want the ship._ Because she did. Iris continued. “Not another person.” A small pause. “Brenda is part of it.” Henry nodded. “Obviously.” Iris almost smiled. “But it's not just Brenda.” “What is it?” Iris thought of yesterday. Tuesday. Coffee. Arguments. Dinner. A shirt in the wrong wardrobe. The noise. The uncertainty. People moving through doors. Work that did not already know exactly where to place her. “I want to live at the Safehouse.” There. Henry looked at her. “I want that to be home.” Another. “I want Brenda there.” Her throat tightened. “I want Ace and Mai and Shammy and Kiro and Reyes around.” Henry listened. “I want work I haven't figured out yet.” That surprised him slightly. “I want days I don't already know.” Henry looked down. Iris smiled faintly. “That probably sounds ridiculous to you.” “No.” She blinked. Henry looked back up. “It sounds terrifying.” Iris laughed. A little oxygen. “Yes.” “I understand terrifying.” “I know.” --- Henry rubbed one hand over his jaw. Then: “Are you sure?” The question Iris had expected. “Yes.” No hesitation. Henry heard that. His shoulders changed slightly. Not relaxing. Accepting that he was no longer talking to uncertainty. “How sure?” Iris thought. “Sure enough that I packed last night.” Henry's eyes narrowed slightly. “And?” “I picked up the bag this morning.” He waited. “I could have left.” Another. “I wanted to know that.” Henry nodded slowly. Iris continued. “No one stopped me.” “Brenda?” “No.” “Ace?” “No.” “Anyone?” “No.” Henry looked toward the table. He understood something there. Iris said: “I set the bag down.” Silence. “Because?” Iris smiled through sudden pressure behind her eyes. “Because I didn't want to take it through the door.” Henry closed his eyes briefly. He had the answer. --- When he opened them again, they were wet. Not crying. Not yet. Iris's chest hurt. Henry looked almost annoyed by the physiological betrayal. Familiar. She had inherited that from somewhere. “I had plans,” he said. Iris swallowed. “I know.” “For you.” “I know.” “Not orders.” “I know.” Henry looked at her. “I know you know.” A tiny, tired smile. “That may be part of the problem.” Iris smiled too. Maybe. --- Henry leaned back again. “I thought eventually you'd take more.” Iris knew exactly what he meant. Responsibility. Not necessarily his position. But more. More ship. More authority. Aureate II becoming increasingly shaped around Iris as Henry grew older. She had known that future existed without either of them formally naming it. “I know.” “You could.” “I know.” “You'd be good at it.” “I know.” Henry laughed once. Wetly. “Arrogant.” “You trained me.” “Apparently too well.” Iris smiled. Then the smile disappeared. “I’m sorry.” Henry's expression sharpened. “No.” Iris stopped. He leaned forward. “Don't apologize for making me sad.” Iris looked at him. Henry continued. “You didn't do anything wrong.” His voice remained controlled. Not cold. Controlled because this mattered. “I can hate the result without thinking you owe me a different one.” Iris's throat tightened. Family conspiracy. Absolutely. --- Henry looked toward the stairs. Then back. “Your mother talked to you about me.” “Yes.” “I assume she told you I'm difficult.” “Extensively.” “Good.” Iris laughed. Henry smiled faintly. Then: “What were you afraid of?” Iris looked down. No point lying now. “That leaving the crew would feel like leaving you.” Henry's face changed. Pain. Different pain. Iris continued. “That you'd think I'd chosen them over you.” “Them.” “Brenda. Safehouse.” Henry nodded. “And?” “And that maybe you'd stop…” She hated saying it. Henry waited. “Seeing me the same way.” Henry stared at her. Then sat back slowly. “Iris.” She looked up. He looked almost offended. Not angry. Personally wounded by the idea. “You're my daughter.” Iris's eyes filled immediately. Henry continued. “You were my daughter before you ever stepped aboard Aureate II.” “You'll be my daughter after I stop being her captain.” Another. “And unless you've developed a plan I'm not aware of, you're going to remain my daughter after I die.” Iris laughed through tears. “Dad.” “What?” “That got dark.” “Accurate.” She laughed harder. Henry's eyes were wet too now. --- He reached across the table. Not something he did casually. Iris put her hand into his. Henry closed his fingers around it. “If you never work another day aboard, you are still my daughter.” Iris nodded. “If you move into the Safehouse permanently, you are still my daughter.” Another nod. “If you marry Brenda tomorrow and spend the next fifty years doing something incomprehensible with O'Sullivan security contracts—” Iris laughed. “Probably not tomorrow.” “Good. I need warning.” She squeezed his hand. Henry's mouth trembled. Still: “My daughter.” There. --- Iris looked at their hands. “What about Aureate II?” Henry breathed out slowly. “What about her?” “Can I…” She stopped. Strange question. Henry waited. “Can I still come aboard?” He stared. Then his eyebrows rose. “Iris.” “I know.” “No, apparently you don't.” She smiled through tears. Henry shook his head. “Do you think I'm going to revoke your access and throw your luggage onto the dock?” “No.” “Good.” “I just don't know what it looks like.” That was the truth. Henry understood. His expression softened. “You've never been aboard without being useful.” Iris laughed. “Mom said the same thing.” “Of course she did.” “She suggested I try being a passenger.” Henry went quiet. Iris saw something settle. A different future. Not the one he wanted. One he could picture. --- He looked down at their joined hands. Then toward the window. The silence lasted. Iris let it. No measuring. No fixing. This belonged to him. Finally Henry looked back. His voice was quieter. “I'll miss you.” There. Iris's face crumpled before she could stop it. “I'll miss you too.” “I mean aboard.” “I know.” “Knowing you're there.” “Yes.” “Seeing you at breakfast when neither of us wants to talk.” Iris laughed wetly. “Your coffee is terrible.” “Your mother makes it.” “Not aboard.” “Fair.” His thumb moved once across her knuckles. “I'll miss arguing with you when you're right.” “That sounds unlikely.” Henry almost smiled. “I'll miss arguing with you when I'm right.” “Also unlikely.” Still them. --- Henry swallowed. “And I'm angry.” Iris nodded. He looked at her. “Not at you.” The distinction landed hard. “At the fact that I didn't know the last rotation before leave was your last rotation.” That landed hard. Iris had not thought of that. Henry continued. “If I'd known…” He stopped. Iris waited. Then Henry shook his head. “No.” “What?” “I would have made it weird.” Iris laughed through another tear. “Yes.” Henry laughed too. “Probably.” “You would have watched everything.” “Yes.” “Remembered every meal.” “Yes.” “Found reasons to keep me on the bridge.” Henry smiled sadly. “Absolutely.” Iris squeezed his hand. “Then maybe it's better you didn't know.” Henry considered. “No.” Then: “Maybe.” Good enough. --- Footsteps upstairs. Then stopped. Her mother, probably. Giving them more time. Henry heard too. Looked toward the ceiling. “She knew.” “That I was thinking about it.” “And didn't tell me.” “I asked her not to.” Henry looked offended toward the ceiling. Then back to Iris. “Correct decision.” Iris laughed. “You're not angry?” “Oh, I'm furious.” “Dad.” “She'll enjoy that.” True. --- Henry released Iris's hand only to wipe at one eye. Then looked annoyed again. Iris smiled. “Dust?” Henry stared. “What?” “Nothing.” Not every family joke needed explaining. --- He stood. Iris's stomach tightened. Conversation ending? No. Henry walked toward the counter. Picked up the coffee pot. Looked inside. Made a face. “Cold.” “Yes.” He poured it out. Started fresh. Iris watched. Domestic. Again. Her father making coffee after she had just told him she was leaving his crew. No shattered glass. No ultimatum. No dramatic departure. Coffee. --- Henry looked over his shoulder. “So what do you do with today?” “I don't know.” “Good.” Iris smiled. He made two coffees. Brought one to her. Sat again. The conversation had changed shape. Not finished. Survivable. --- “What are you going to do for work?” Captain brain emerging through fatherhood. Iris laughed. “I don't know.” Henry stared. “You don't know.” “No.” “You left a senior shipboard role without a replacement job.” “Yes.” Henry looked toward the stairs. “Your mother did this.” Iris laughed. “No.” “Brenda?” “No.” “Crystal Palace?” “No.” “Are you ill?” Iris smiled. “Possibly.” Henry drank coffee. “Do you have money?” “Yes.” “Enough?” “Yes.” “Housing?” Iris looked at him. Henry stopped. “Right.” She smiled. “Safehouse.” “Yes.” “Brenda.” “Yes.” Henry nodded. Practical boxes. Useful. Then: “O'Sullivan?” Iris's eyebrows rose. “What about it?” “They need people.” “How do you know?” Henry gave her a look. “I have eyes.” Fair. “And they were networking for two weeks.” “That word has become dangerous.” “I noticed.” Iris smiled. Henry continued. “You'd be useful.” “Yes.” “Is that the plan?” “No.” Henry nodded. “Better.” Iris looked surprised. He explained: “Don't leave one life merely because another job is conveniently available.” Her family was becoming intolerable. Iris smiled. “That seems to be the consensus.” “Smart family.” “Debatable.” --- They talked about practical things. Not employment negotiation. Life. What Iris still had aboard. What should be moved eventually. What could stay. Her cabin. Henry surprised her there. “Leave it.” Iris blinked. “What?” “Your cabin.” “I can't keep crew accommodation if I'm not crew.” “It's not only crew accommodation.” Iris frowned. Henry took a drink. “We carry family.” That sentence almost broke her again. Henry saw. Looked away. --- “I don't need permanent space.” “I didn't ask what you need.” “Dad.” “We'll figure it out.” Not now. Enough. --- Eventually the conversation returned to the ship. Not farewell inventory. Stories. A maintenance issue Henry expected to find annoying. A crew member who would complain about Iris leaving and then immediately send her a message asking for technical advice. Iris smiled. “I am not doing remote duty.” “Good.” “Seriously.” “I agree.” She stared. Henry smiled. “Passenger.” The word landed differently now. Not duty. Possibility. --- The kitchen door opened. Her mother appeared. Looked at both of them. Red eyes. Coffee. Joined hands no longer joined, but the distance between father and daughter smaller. She smiled. “Can I come back?” Henry looked toward her. “You knew.” She nodded. “Yes.” “And said nothing.” “Iris asked me not to.” “I know.” “Are you angry?” “Yes.” Her smile widened. “Good.” Henry stared. Iris laughed. Her mother crossed the kitchen. Kissed Henry's temple. He tolerated this with dignity. Then she hugged Iris from behind. Iris reached up and held her arm. Family. --- Henry looked at Iris. One more thing still unfinished. She saw it. He did too. Her mother quietly took the chair beside Henry. No interruption. Henry leaned back. “Does Brenda know?” “That I decided?” “Yes.” “She was there.” Henry nodded. “How did she take it?” Iris smiled. “She cried.” Her mother smiled. Henry's expression softened. “And everyone else?” “They were there too.” “How did they take it?” Iris thought of Ace's wet violet eyes. Kiro looking at the ceiling. Reyes's crushing hug. Shammy. Mai asking the only question that mattered. She smiled. “Badly.” Her mother laughed. Henry did too. Good. --- Then Henry looked at Iris for a long moment. Not captain. Not employer. Father. “I wish you were coming back with me.” Iris's eyes filled again. “I know.” “I need you to know that.” “I do.” “And I also need you to know…” He stopped. Looked down once. Then back. This cost him. Real. “I'd rather have you leave Aureate II because you chose your life than stay aboard because you're afraid to disappoint me.” Iris stopped. Her mother looked toward Henry. No rehearsed wisdom. His. Iris swallowed. “Thank you.” Henry nodded. His eyes wet again. “Don't make me repeat it.” Iris laughed. “No promises.” --- Silence. Warm. Painful. Complete enough. Then Henry took a breath. His mouth curved slightly. Not quite a smile. “I'll expect you aboard as a passenger, then.” There. No one spoke. Iris stared at him. Her mother looked down. One hand moved over her mouth. Henry held Iris's gaze. The sentence remained in the room. Aureate II still there. Different. Her father still there. Exactly the same. Iris stood. Henry stood too. She went around the table. No hesitation. Wrapped both arms around him. Henry held her. Hard. Not captain. Not lieutenant. No crew hierarchy. Just father and daughter in the kitchen. Iris pressed her face against his shoulder. Cried. No attempt to stop. Henry's breathing broke once. Then again. He held her tighter. “I love you.” Iris closed her eyes. “I love you too, Dad.” Nothing else needed to compete with it. --- Her mother stood after a while. Joined them from the side. Henry made a noise. “This is excessive.” Neither woman released him. Iris laughed through tears. Her mother smiled against his shoulder. “You'll survive.” “Debatable.” Family. --- Eventually they separated. Faces red. Coffee forgotten. Iris wiped her eyes. Henry looked worse. She smiled. “You look terrible.” “So do you.” “Good.” Her mother handed both tissues. Prepared woman. Of course. --- Iris looked toward the door. Not because she wanted to escape. Because Brenda existed beyond it. Safehouse. Her chosen life. And now she could return to it without feeling as though the road behind her had collapsed. Henry noticed. “Go.” Iris looked at him. “Already?” “You have somewhere you want to be.” No accusation. Iris's throat tightened again. “Yes.” Henry nodded. “Then go.” --- At the front door, Iris put on her jacket. Her mother hugged her first. “Call me.” “I will.” “Today.” “Mom.” “Today.” Iris smiled. “Yes.” Then Henry. They stood facing each other. Strange. No ship departure. No watch schedule. No next rotation date. Henry looked at her. “When do I get my officer back?” Iris's heart twisted. Then she caught his expression. Tiny smile. Joke. She smiled. “Never.” Henry nodded. “Good answer.” Then: “When do I get my daughter back aboard?” Iris looked at him. Easy now. “Soon.” Henry smiled. “Good.” --- They hugged once more. Shorter. Still real. Then Iris opened the door. Stepped outside. Turned back. Her parents stood together inside. Not abandoned. Not erased. Home behind her. One of them. Iris smiled. “Bye.” Her mother: “Bye, sweetheart.” Henry: “Call when you're home.” Iris laughed softly. Home. He had said it. No correction. No hesitation. “Yes.” The door closed. --- Iris stood on the front step. Breathed. The morning looked exactly the same. Nothing in Night City had noticed that she was no longer Lieutenant Rourke of Aureate II. The sky had not changed. Traffic continued. Somebody somewhere was already having a terrible day. Iris smiled. Her agent was in her hand. One message waiting. Brenda. Sent twenty-three minutes ago. **BRENDA: No pressure. Just love you. <3** Iris laughed. Of course. She typed: **IRIS: Done.** Stopped. Too small. Deleted it. Typed again. **IRIS: He said he'll expect me aboard as a passenger.** She stared at the words. Sent. Three dots appeared almost instantly. Disappeared. Returned. Then: **BRENDA: oh fuck** Another: **BRENDA: I'm crying again** Iris laughed hard enough that the driver pulling up looked concerned. She typed: **IRIS: Apparently contagious.** Brenda: **BRENDA: COME HOME** Iris looked at that. No ambiguity. No pressure now. The decision was made. Her father knew. Her mother knew. Aureate II remained. Safehouse waited. Home. Iris smiled. **IRIS: On my way.** She got into the vehicle. And this time, when she gave the destination, there was no hesitation at all. --- ## Chapter 8 — Not a Dry Eye in the House The Safehouse door opened at 09:18. Brenda was already standing in the common room. Not by the door. Technically. Three steps away. Close enough that the distinction was meaningless. Ace sat on the couch. Mai beside her. Shammy in the chair opposite. Kiro had a mug in both hands and had apparently forgotten to drink from it. Reyes leaned against the kitchen counter. Everyone looked toward the door. Iris stepped inside. Closed it. Locked. Home. There. --- For one second nobody moved. Brenda looked at Iris. Eyes already red. Of course. Iris smiled. Brenda's face collapsed immediately. “Oh, fuck you.” Iris laughed. Brenda crossed the room. Fast. Iris's hands were empty. The packed bag was still where she'd left it at the Safehouse. That fact almost made her laugh again. Then Brenda hit her. Not literally. Close. Arms around Iris. Hard. Iris caught her. Held on. Brenda buried her face against Iris's shoulder. “You could have warned me.” “I messaged.” “You said one sentence.” “It was a good sentence.” “It was a devastating sentence.” Iris smiled into her hair. “I know.” --- Ace stood. Slowly. Mai stood with her. Shammy already had both hands over her mouth. Kiro looked toward the ceiling. Reyes looked toward the floor. Everyone pretending to have somewhere else to look. Good luck. Brenda pulled back. Held Iris's face. “Say it.” Iris's eyebrows rose. “What?” “The whole thing.” Iris smiled. Brenda's eyes filled again. “What did he say?” Iris looked around. Everyone listening now. No hiding. Fine. She took a breath. “I told him I wasn't coming back with him.” Ace's eyes immediately went wet. Mai took her hand. Iris continued. “He asked if I meant tomorrow.” Reyes breathed out. “I said no.” The room tightened. “Then I told him I meant as crew.” Brenda's fingers tightened against Iris's arms. Iris smiled faintly. “He was hurt.” No sanitizing. “He's going to miss me.” Shammy wiped one eye. “He was angry that he didn't know the last rotation before leave was the last one.” Kiro's mouth tightened. That one got her. Iris continued. “But he wasn't angry with me.” “He asked if I was sure.” Brenda nodded. Iris looked at her. “I said yes.” Again. Decision intact. --- Ace sniffed. Loudly. Then glared at nothing. Reyes looked toward her. Ace pointed. “Don't.” Then caught herself. Her mouth twisted. “Actually, fine. I'm crying.” Reyes laughed wetly. “Good.” Ace wiped her face. “Terrible morning.” Mai hugged her from the side. Ace went willingly. No resistance. --- Iris looked back at Brenda. “He asked what I wanted.” Brenda's eyes held hers. “I told him.” “What?” Iris smiled. “This.” Brenda stopped breathing. Iris looked around the Safehouse. Not theatrically. Simply because it was true. “I told him I want to live here.” There. Brenda started crying again. Worse. Reyes looked away sharply. Shammy lost whatever battle she had been fighting and started openly crying too. Kiro closed her eyes. Mai covered her mouth. Ace made a tiny broken sound. Iris laughed. “Oh no.” Brenda laughed through tears. “What?” “Everyone.” Reyes wiped both eyes. “Shut up.” Iris smiled. Reyes shook her head. “No. Sorry. Continue.” --- Iris did. “I told him I want Brenda.” Brenda immediately made another sound. Iris touched her cheek. “I told him I want all of you around.” Ace looked at the ceiling now. No help there. “I told him I want work I haven't figured out yet.” Kiro opened her eyes. “And I told him I want days I don't already know.” Mai's expression softened completely. That one belonged to her. She understood. --- Brenda whispered: “And then?” Iris looked at her. “He said he wished I was coming back.” Brenda's face changed. Pain for Henry now. Human. “He said he'd miss me aboard.” Iris swallowed. “He said he had plans for me.” Kiro looked down again. Reyes rubbed her jaw. Ace leaned harder into Mai. Iris continued. “And then he told me not to apologize for making him sad.” Silence. Nobody survived that one well. Shammy cried harder. Ace did too. Reyes simply turned away and wiped her face with one hand. Kiro stared at the mug as though it contained an emergency protocol. Mai's tears escaped silently. Brenda pressed her forehead against Iris's. “Oh, Henry.” “Yes.” --- Iris smiled through her own tears. “And then he told me…” She stopped. Not because she had forgotten. Because saying it again still mattered. Brenda waited. Everyone did. Iris looked around. Then: “He told me I'll still be his daughter if I never work another day aboard.” Ace's eyes closed. “He told me I'll still be his daughter if I live here permanently.” Brenda's hands shook. “And he said I'll still be his daughter after he stops being captain.” Mai wiped her cheek. Reyes muttered something that sounded like: “Fuck.” Appropriate. --- Iris's voice softened. “And then…” The line. The one that had somehow rearranged everything without changing anything that mattered. “He said he'll expect me aboard as a passenger.” The room broke. Completely. Brenda covered her face. Shammy folded forward. Mai pulled Ace fully against her. Ace was openly sobbing now and clearly furious about none of it anymore. Kiro put the mug down before she dropped it. Reyes turned away, then immediately turned back because hiding was pointless. Iris stood in the middle of all of them. Laughing. Crying. Both. “Not one dry eye.” Reyes pointed at her. “You did this.” Iris laughed. “My father did.” “Tell him I hate him.” “He'll be devastated.” “Good.” Reyes wiped her face again. “Excellent man.” --- Brenda dropped her hands. Looked at Iris. Then: “Come here.” Iris smiled. “I am literally—” Brenda kissed her. No warning. No performance. Just relief. Love. Joy. The kiss lasted because neither of them was in any hurry to let go. Brenda held her face. Iris held her waist. When they separated, Brenda rested her forehead against hers. “You're home.” Iris's throat tightened. “Yes.” Brenda smiled through tears. “Home.” This time Iris answered without thinking. “Home.” Done. --- Ace made another sound behind them. Iris looked over. Ace held both hands out. Iris laughed. “You already hugged me.” “Again.” Fair. Iris went to her. Ace wrapped around her immediately. Tiny. Strong. Wet-faced. Iris held her. Ace whispered: “I'm so fucking happy.” Iris closed her eyes. “Me too.” Ace pulled back. Looked up. “Because you want it?” The question again. Still right. Iris smiled. “Yes.” Ace nodded. Then hugged her again anyway. --- Mai came next. No words at first. She held Iris differently. Warm. Steady. Long enough that Iris felt the entire weight of being welcomed without being claimed. When Mai finally pulled back: “You're sure?” Iris smiled. “Yes.” Mai nodded. “Then welcome home.” That did it. Iris cried harder. Mai smiled through her own tears. “Sorry.” “No.” Iris laughed. “Apparently we're doing this.” --- Shammy didn't wait. She joined. Then Ace again because rules had clearly collapsed. For a moment Iris stood inside a knot of bodies. Not everyone. Not some enormous forced group embrace. Just whoever had reached her first. Warm. Messy. Laughing. Crying. --- Reyes waited. Of course. When the others released Iris, Reyes looked toward her. Eyes red. Arms crossed. Iris smiled. Reyes stared. Then: “Fuck it.” She crossed the room. Wrapped Iris in a crushing hug. Iris laughed. “Still stronger.” “Obviously.” “Not low-g.” “Shut up.” Then Reyes tightened her arms. Her voice changed. Quiet. “I'm glad you're staying.” Iris held her. “Me too.” Reyes nodded once against her shoulder. Then released. No more. Exactly enough. --- Kiro remained. Near the table. Hands empty now. Iris looked toward her. Kiro looked back. Clearly emotional. Clearly annoyed by the lack of useful interface for it. Iris smiled. Kiro said: “I had a prepared sentence.” Ace immediately looked interested. Kiro ignored her. “What was it?” Iris asked. Kiro frowned. “I don't remember.” Reyes laughed. Kiro looked toward the ceiling again. Then back. “I'm glad you're here.” Simple. Iris crossed the room. Hugged her. Kiro froze for less time than before. Then held on. Harder than Iris expected. Kiro whispered: “You make things easier.” Iris smiled against her hair. “That is a terrible reason to keep someone.” “I know.” Kiro continued: “Also better.” Iris closed her eyes. She understood. “You too.” Kiro breathed out. Then released her. --- Everyone stood around afterward. Red eyes. Used tissues. Cold coffee. The emotional aftermath of a small natural disaster. Ace looked around. “Coffee.” Mai stared. Ace pointed. “Medical.” Kiro immediately moved toward the machine. Reyes laughed. “Of course.” Normality returning. Iris wanted that too. --- Brenda remained beside her. Never far. Her hand found Iris's. Linked fingers. No need to cling. Just contact. Iris looked down. Then around. Safehouse. Her Safehouse. No. That sounded wrong. Their Safehouse. Better. --- Kiro made coffee for everyone. Too much. Nobody objected. Reyes found food. Mai opened windows because apparently seven crying adults had altered atmospheric conditions. Ace claimed this was scientifically impossible. Kiro started explaining humidity. Ace immediately regretted asking. Shammy laughed through another sniff. Brenda wiped Iris's cheek with her thumb. No one recovered dignity. --- At 10:02, Iris called her mother. Everyone went quiet when they realized. Iris looked around. “I'm not putting this on speaker.” Ace looked offended. “Coward.” Iris smiled. “Correct.” She stepped toward the hallway. Brenda released her hand. No problem. --- Her mother answered immediately. “Home?” Iris smiled. “Yes.” She had promised Henry she'd call when she was home. Funny. “Good.” Iris leaned against the wall. “He took it well.” A small pause. “I know.” Iris blinked. “You spoke to him?” “He's downstairs.” Of course. “How is he?” Her mother considered. “Sad.” Iris swallowed. “Okay.” “And proud.” Iris closed her eyes. That one hurt too. “Okay.” “And currently pretending to reorganize something that does not require reorganizing.” Iris laughed. “Kiro does that.” “I don't know Kiro well enough to determine whether this is hereditary.” “Probably not.” Her mother smiled through the connection. “Are you okay?” Iris looked toward the common room. Ace arguing. Reyes laughing. Brenda watching the hallway. Mai handing Shammy a mug. Kiro inspecting something. “Yes.” No hesitation. “I am.” “Good.” --- Iris paused. Then: “Mom?” “Yes?” “Thank you.” Her mother's voice softened. “You did the difficult part.” “Yes.” “You decided.” “Yes.” “Then enjoy it.” Iris smiled. “I intend to.” “Good.” Then: “Call your father later.” “I will.” “He'll pretend he doesn't need it.” “I know.” “Excellent.” They ended the call. --- Iris returned. Brenda looked at her. “Okay?” “Yes.” “Your dad?” “Sad.” Everyone's expressions changed. “And proud.” Ace's face crumpled again. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Everyone laughed. Ace wiped her eyes. “I just stopped.” Mai kissed her temple. “Apparently not.” --- The morning moved forward. Finally. Work began to intrude. Not because anyone wanted it. Because O'Sullivan SAS existed and clients remained offensively alive. Mai opened the queue. Ace groaned. Kiro sat beside her. Brenda reluctantly released Iris's hand and opened her own list. Reyes escaped before anyone could assign her administrative work. Shammy disappeared toward her studio space. Iris remained near the table. No job. No duty cycle. No bridge. No watch. For the first time in years, nothing professionally expected her. The sensation was extraordinary. And mildly terrifying. --- Ace looked at the queue. Then at Mai. Then at Kiro. Then at Brenda. “Still impossible.” Mai nodded. “Yes.” “Even after price increase?” “Yes.” Kiro rotated the capacity model. “We reduced incoming acceptance by thirty-one percent.” Ace smiled. “Good.” “And projected utilization remains one hundred twenty-seven percent.” Ace's smile disappeared. “Bad.” “Correct.” Brenda leaned closer. “What if we push remote consults?” Mai shook her head. “Then field prep fails.” Kiro nodded. “And current coordination overhead is already too high.” Ace stared. “Coordination overhead sounds fake.” Iris smiled. Kiro looked offended. “It is not.” --- Mai expanded the workload map. Assignments. Deadlines. Dependencies. Travel windows. External contractors. Known partners. Temporary capacity. The same problem. Bigger now. Not technical capability. Organizational shape. Iris looked. Then immediately stopped herself. Not her job. Interesting feeling. She took coffee instead. --- Brenda saw. “You have an opinion.” Iris looked at her. “No.” “You absolutely do.” Ace's head turned. Danger. Mai looked too. Kiro already knew. Iris sighed. “I have several.” Ace brightened. “Excellent.” Iris held up one finger. “I am unemployed for approximately…” She checked the time. “Three hours.” Reyes called from the hallway: “NEW RECORD.” Iris laughed. Brenda smiled. “Then consult.” Iris looked at her. “Billable?” Brenda's eyes lit. Ace groaned. “You've corrupted her.” “Efficiently.” --- Mai looked toward Iris. “Seriously.” Iris listened. “What do you see?” Not: _Come work for us._ Iris walked closer to the display. Looked. Really looked. The issue became obvious once she stopped pretending not to care. “You don't have a capacity problem.” Ace looked hopeful. “Excellent.” “You have a command problem.” Ace's hope disappeared. “Less excellent.” Kiro's eyebrows rose. Mai folded her arms. “Explain.” Iris pointed. “Everyone who can do high-value work is also coordinating high-value work.” Kiro nodded slowly. “You're using senior technical capacity to decide who gets senior technical capacity.” Mai looked at the assignments. Iris continued. “Every new job creates planning overhead, and that planning overhead consumes the same people you're trying to schedule.” Brenda stared at the board. “Oh.” Yes. --- Ace pointed. “So we need…” She stopped. Looked around. Then: “A manager?” Everyone reacted badly. Mai frowned. Kiro grimaced. Brenda made a face. Iris laughed. “Not like that.” Ace looked relieved. “Good.” Iris pointed again. “You need someone who understands operations well enough to know when not to interrupt technical people.” Kiro looked interested. “Resource coordination.” “Partly.” “Logistics.” “Partly.” “Client triage.” “Partly.” Mai saw it first. Her expression changed. “Operations.” Iris looked toward her. “Yes.” --- Silence. Dangerous silence. Iris noticed too late. Every face slowly turned toward her. She stared. “No.” Ace's violet eyes widened. “Nobody said anything.” “You all made the face.” Brenda started laughing. “The expansion face?” “Worse.” Kiro looked toward Mai. Mai looked toward Iris. No smile. Serious. “Would you want that?” There. It was a question, not an offer. The distinction mattered. Iris went quiet. --- She looked at the board. Operations. Different from Aureate II. Also not completely different. Resource movement. Responsibility. Schedule. People. Knowing enough technical reality to recognize bullshit without needing to be the deepest specialist in every room. Making systems work around competent people. She was very good at that. She liked being good at that. That truth had not vanished when she left the ship. --- Ace leaned forward. “Before anyone says anything stupid—” Mai looked at her. Ace paused. “Before I say anything stupid.” Better. “This is not why you're here.” Iris looked at her. Ace's expression was completely serious now. “You already chose.” “Yes.” “This came after.” “Yes.” “Good.” That settled the order of things. Iris had chosen the life before the job existed. Ace nodded. “Now we can be capitalists.” Brenda laughed. Iris did too. --- Mai looked toward Iris. “We need someone.” “Yes.” “We haven't defined the role.” “Obviously.” “Or compensation.” Brenda leaned in. “I can help with that.” Everyone ignored her for safety. Mai continued. “And I don't want to invent a title around you just because you're standing here.” Iris nodded. “Good.” Kiro added: “We should define required functions first.” “Yes.” Brenda: “Then price.” Ace looked toward her. “Compensation.” Brenda smiled. “Same direction.” --- Iris looked at the work board again. Not obligation. Possibility. Her own thing. Brenda had said that yesterday. _You need your own thing._ Maybe this could be part of it. Not because Safehouse needed to justify keeping her. Not because leaving Aureate II required a replacement identity immediately. She could say no. That mattered. She smiled. “I'll talk about it.” Ace's eyebrows rose. “Talk?” “Yes.” “Not yes?” “No.” Ace looked toward Mai. Mai smiled. “Good.” Iris's eyebrows rose. Mai explained: “If you said yes immediately, I'd worry you were still solving everyone else's problem.” Iris stared. “Does everyone know me too well now?” Reyes walked back into the room. “Yes.” “Terrible.” --- Brenda touched Iris's hand. “What do you want?” Iris looked at her. Interesting. Same question. Different scale. This one easier. “I want to see what the job actually is.” Brenda smiled. “Good.” Iris continued. “And I want to decide whether I like it before anyone gives me a title.” Kiro nodded. “Correct.” Ace looked wounded. “I had titles.” “No,” four people said. Ace sighed. “Hostile startup.” --- They spent the next hour defining the problem instead of shaping a job around Iris. What O'Sullivan SAS actually needed. Single operational view. Client intake discipline. Capacity forecasting. Resource allocation. Field logistics. External partner coordination. Travel compression. Escalation rules. A person empowered to tell Amber O'Sullivan that a lucrative client could wait. Ace looked alarmed. “Absolutely not.” Mai smiled. “Mandatory.” Iris laughed. Maybe she would enjoy this. --- By noon they had something more useful than a title. A list of functions. Authority that would actually have to exist. Boundaries that would keep the role from becoming everybody else's unfinished work. And enough workload to prove the need was real. Iris read the list. Then looked at Mai. “This is more than one person eventually.” “Yes.” “Good.” “You still interested?” Iris thought. Then smiled. “Yes.” Brenda's face brightened. Iris pointed at her. “Professionally.” Brenda smiled wider. “Of course.” Mai did not close the board. “Iris.” “Yes?” “Do you want the job?” The room went quiet. Iris looked at her. “As an employee.” “Yes.” “Not a consultant.” “No.” “Not helping until you figure out what you actually need.” “No.” Ace leaned forward. “Our first actual employee.” Mai looked at her. Ace spread both hands. “What? That's true.” It was. Reyes and Kiro worked with them. Specialists, partners, recurring support. Not employees. Iris looked back at the board. Nothing on it had existed when she chose to stay. That mattered. The life had come first. Now came the question of what she wanted to build inside it. “Title tomorrow,” Iris said. Mai nodded. “Fine.” “Compensation tomorrow.” “Obviously.” “Authority, escalation limits, and what happens when Amber tries to accept three impossible jobs at once.” Ace looked offended. “Hostile onboarding.” Iris smiled. “Necessary onboarding.” Kiro nodded. “Strongly.” Iris looked at Mai again. Then at Brenda. Then back to the work. “Yes.” Mai waited. Iris smiled. “I want the job.” Brenda made a small, helplessly happy sound. Ace pointed at Iris. “We have an employee.” Kiro looked toward the board. “We need payroll.” Brenda leaned in. “I can help with price.” Ace groaned. “Compensation.” “Same direction.” Reyes laughed. Iris did too. The practical details could wait one day. The choice did not need to. --- Mai closed the board. “Then today?” Iris looked around. Her first day. Not as crew. Now, in every way that mattered, O'Sullivan SAS's first employee. Still no schedule imposed. No duty assignment. The job could wait until tomorrow. Today remained hers. She smiled. “Today I unpack.” Brenda's face softened immediately. That mattered more than the work. Ace pointed toward the hallway. “The bag.” “Yes.” “Can we help?” Iris thought. Then: “Yes.” Brenda laughed. Good. --- They went to the room. Not all seven. That would have been absurd. Brenda. Iris. Ace appeared anyway. Mai dragged her back out by the shoulders. “Let them.” Ace looked offended. Then saw Brenda and Iris. Stopped. “Fine.” She pointed. “But call if something heavy exists.” Iris looked down at Ace. “Of course.” Ace smiled. Then left with Mai. --- The bag sat on the bed. Where Mai had moved it earlier. Iris looked at it. Packed last night. A real possible departure. She touched the zipper. Brenda stood beside her. No tears now. Maybe. “Ready?” Iris smiled. “Yes.” She opened it. --- Clothes came out. Not symbolically one by one. Just unpacking. Underwear into drawer. Shirts. Trousers. Charger back to the bedside cabinet. The terrible book back onto the shelf. Brenda saw. “You're keeping it?” “I need to finish being angry.” “Good.” The sweater came next. Brenda immediately took it. Iris stared. “Seriously?” “I told you I like it.” “It hasn't even reached the drawer.” “Efficient.” Iris laughed. “Thief.” “Yes.” --- Then the Zero-G Games band. Iris held it. Brenda smiled. “Winner.” Iris looked toward her. “Participant.” “Winner.” Iris walked to the shelf. Set it beside the marker. Not packed. Home. Brenda came beside her. Looked at the two items. Then Iris. No words. Needed none. --- The last compartment contained the adapters. Iris opened it. Looked. Brenda leaned over. “You counted those three times.” “I know.” “You taking them out?” “Yes.” “Good.” Iris put them into the drawer. Then zipped the empty bag. Completely empty now. She looked at it. Brenda looked too. “Storage?” Iris considered. Then smiled. “Yes.” They put it away. Not ready by the door. Not waiting. Just a bag. --- Brenda closed the storage compartment. Turned. Iris was looking at the wardrobe. Her clothes. Brenda's clothes. Not enough room anymore. Interesting. Brenda followed her gaze. “Oh.” “Yes.” “Expansion.” “Yes.” Brenda smiled slowly. “We need more storage.” Iris laughed. Not: _You can have my space._ Their problem. Their room. More storage. Perfect. --- Brenda stepped closer. Wrapped both arms around Iris's waist. Iris rested her hands on her shoulders. “Still sure?” Brenda asked. Iris smiled. “Yes.” “Good.” Then Brenda's expression changed. Soft. Almost disbelieving. “You live here.” Iris looked around. The room. Their room. No resistance. “Yes.” Brenda's eyes filled again. Iris laughed. “Oh no.” “Shut up.” Brenda laughed through tears. Iris kissed her. Warm. Long. No urgency. When they separated, Brenda touched her forehead to Iris's. “I love you.” “I love you too.” --- From the common room, Ace shouted: “HAS ANYONE SEEN MY TRAM?” Mai answered: “It's on the shelf.” “WRONG SHELF.” Kiro: “It obstructs airflow on the original shelf.” Ace: “THIS HOUSE HAS BECOME A DICTATORSHIP.” Reyes: “Skill issue.” Shammy burst out laughing. Brenda closed her eyes. Iris listened. Then smiled. The life. Not theoretical. Already happening. She took Brenda's hand. “Come on.” “Where?” “Home.” Brenda looked at her. Then laughed. “Extremely.” They walked back toward the noise together. **END — ACE 122.1 — THE LIFE I WANT**