Moira Kentigearna didn't got to level 66 of Islay Base.. to the "Green Hell". She didn't need to. The scuttlebutt was all over the base. Damien McEwan had killed Caul Phage. The very same fight she had run sobbing from had ended in the death of a friend and mentor, at the hands of a young man she also had considered her friend.
She left a quick note on the Station's digital "bulletin board", addressed to Sean, Silvy, and Red. It was short and to the point: "Friends, I came by Islay t' learn a terrible thing, and now I can't stay. If you need me, send a message to Hope's Haven on Belfast. I'll still fly with ya against the fookin' polluters and royalists, but I'll have nothin' further t' do with Damien MecEwan. Moira."
Once back to the dimly lit hangar deck, she had called her small crew together, and explained that they might not be returning to Islay for a great long while, if ever. She gave those with family on Islay the option of leaving ship, with no repercussions and a generous separation payment. Two of her engine room crew had decided to remain.
She would replace them at Skye Base, on the way back to what she would now consider her "home", amongst former enemies, but also alongside the kind gent she was learning to know, and love.
Within the hour, Moira was on the bridge of the Kentigearna, course set for the Dublin jump hole. The pained and heartbroken expression she had worn when she learned the news of Caul's death had been replaced with one of grim certitude and resolve.
"Dimi, you bastard. If ye ever want to speak t' me, you can just come grovellin' on yer knees to my bailiwick, sport."