With the mission running long and no exfil in sight, there’s little for Valerian and Roman to do besides purchase too many groceries, hole up in the safehouse, and settle old bets.Val stands over the cracked electric stove, carefully stirring a pot of ukha. The delicate scent of herbs, spices, and freshwater fish spirals off the surface of the broth. It smells of home, and Val knows without looking that Roman is sprawled on the couch behind him.“Just be careful not to let the salmon overcook,” Roman calls out. What would be genuine advice from anyone else, Val knows is actually a gentle rib.He scoffs, though he doesn’t take his eyes off the pot. “I’ll win this time. You’ll see.”“Sure,” Roman says generously. “Except you’re still missing something.”Val inhales, letting the well-rounded scent settle around him. “You can bullshit about your ‘secret ingredient’ all you like—I know when you’re bluffing.”Roman is grinning; Val can hear it in his tone. “Your gambling money in my pocket says otherwise. Fish about done?”Delicately poking at one cube of salmon, Val is pleased to find it flaky, tender, and cooked all the way through. “Yeah. Come get it while it’s hot.”He nudges the pot off the heat and dishes out two bowls. Roman plucks one from his hands and takes a preliminary sip.“Hmm. You’re definitely close. But not quite. Still missing that all-important piece to bring it together.”Val eats a spoonful as well, deflating as he realizes the truth. Roman is right. It’s good soup—but not as good as Roman’s. The flavors that had seemed so balanced in theory are lacking something crucial. His head dips with weary resignation. “Fine...you win. What’s the secret?”“Not sure I should be telling just anyone,” Roman says in his loftiest tone. “How about this: a secret for a secret. You answer my question, and I’ll tell you what you’re missing.”Val laughs and shakes his head, grinning down at his imperfect soup. “Fine, fine. Ask away.”He turns to face Roman, and the dream becomes a nightmare.The safehouse is broken and charred. Darkness seeps from the corners, a viscous black liquid that gathers higher and higher on the floor. And Roman—Roman is in uniform, drenched in blood. Valerian knows it isn’t his own. Those bright eyes bore into Valerian’s, feverish, and when Roman speaks, more darkness oozes from between his teeth.“Why didn’t you stop me, Val?”Val jolts awake, nearly falling from his bunk as he flails against his sheets. His eyes take in details with trained expedience—rough white walls, a footlocker, a window looking out over the grey tinge of pre-morning light.Val’s head falls against the pillow with a groan. He knows he won’t be getting back to sleep.Valerian.”Val sights down his scope, not bothering to hide his scowl. “I’m busy.”“It’s about Roman.”Val feels his muscles tense, though the reticle over his target doesn’t so much as twitch. “What do I have to say to make you understand? I don’t need leave, I don’t need another psych eval, and I sure as hell don’t need your pity. Bastard got what was coming to him.”Behind him, Lena crosses her arms. Val can’t see her, but he knows the sound.“Lie to yourself all you like, but don’t you dare start lying to me.”Valerian takes his eye off the scope to turn his head, looking up and over his shoulder at where Lena stands. Arms crossed, hips canted, exactly as he’d pictured her. “Did you come out just to bother me, or are you going to do anything useful to the Front?” he snaps. Lena rolls her eyes and takes out a scouter. “Wind from 31 degrees northeast. Target at 1572.8 meters out.”Val presses his eye back to the scope of the long, lean Sovereign rifle, breathing out the frustration lingering in his muscles. The reticle settles perfectly in place, and the trigger pulls smooth as silk.The air splits with the thunder of the Sovereign’s discharge, and Val feels the weapon kick hard against his shoulder. He doesn’t bother to check whether the shot landed as he sits up and glances back at Lena.Her scouter is still held over her eyes, though she lowers it as Val turns toward her. “You always were the best,” she says with a touch of wryness. “Now, would you please listen?”Val scoffs and slings the Sovereign over his shoulder. He gets to his feet, dusting some of the dirt and grit from the front of his uniform. “It’s cute when you imply I have a choice.”Their boots crunch over rain-parched earth as they start the trek back to base. Valerian shields his eyes against the bloody sunset, content to let his brisk pace speak to his disinterest in what Lena has to say. Still, he doesn’t try to stop her when she brings up Roman again.

.Nobody at NASA gave a goddamn about the weather in Jersey. This fact, as true and as simple as it was, had not stopped my Aunt Rosie from pacing around the parlor all morning and pressing her face to the front window in search of thunderstorms. My mother had yelled at her for smearing rouge on the glass, and she, of course, had yelled right back. And soon, everybody was yelling. It was the day of my brother Eddie’s wedding, the day of the moon landing, and rain meant a lot of things. It meant a shower of good fortune, pouring out from God himself