But it was then Cyrus interrupted, “Wait, wait, wait,” short of breath, anticipation flooding his voice. “The sub-set blockade? Is it the same one they use on the–”

And then Addy let out a squeal of excitement. “The Barralions! Yes!”

“So that means we can just–”

Addy laughed. “Crash the blockade and trigger the failsafe monitors boot. Oh man, yes! Why didn’t I think of that sooner?”

More hurried typing filled the line. Cyrus relayed the steps to Leta until all at once, the screen before her simply shut off.

“That’s supposed to happen,” Cyrus assured her. “We’re in. We got it.”

Leta felt dizzy with relief. “Let’s go shut down the communications,” she breathed, pulling away from the console and hurrying down the hall with Finn on her heels. She touched her earpiece.

“Security’s done, on our way to shut down communications now,” she said to Fiearius. “How’s it going over there?”

– – – – – – – – – – – –

“Peachy,” said Fiearius through gritted teeth as he darted down the long row of the docks, marched up the ship’s ramp and swung his fist into the surprised face of a junior Society agent. He careened backwards into the ramp so easily that Fiearius almost felt pity for the young man: these were just agents-in-training, after all. Barely armed, barely aware of what was going on and entirely unprepared. Meanwhile, Dez and Eve were firing their weapons rapidly, but just over the agent’s heads — making them scatter like insects.

“Everything alright on your end? Run into any trouble?” Fiearius asked over the chaos and noise, hoping Leta and her team was making short work of them too.

“Yes. The trouble is Finn,” said Leta dully. “Can I ask why you’ve paired me with the biggest pest — “

“No trouble over here, mate,” interrupted Finn’s loud voice. “Taking real good care of Leta! Y’know, your girlfriend — “

Then, as if this call weren’t frivolous enough, Corra’s voice suddenly chimed in. “I didn’t tell him! I don’t know how Finn knows! It wasn’t me! I’m serious!”

“Just finish the job and get out of there, alright?” Fiearius growled, to murmurs of agreement.

“You be careful too,” added Leta sternly, and then the line cut out.

Turning around, Fiearius marched through the ship’s entryway as more agents flooded into the cargo bay, the poor blokes. Although, as one brave soul came plummeting towards him with a knife and a battle cry, Fiearius supposed it was better to been over-prepared than under-prepared and he whipped his pistol out from his hip and shot him in the leg.

Free from mild danger, Fiearius glanced back at Dez who was ramming the butt of his rifle into an agent’s side. Nearby, Eve, perhaps in an attempt to pass her test run with flying colors, had hopped up onto a shipping crate and was making good use of her rifle, firing off rounds with booming authority.

Fiearius nodded at her, impressed.

Minutes later, they had practically chased off all the young agents. A couple unfortunate bodies lay scattered across the dock. A few more wounded writhed around in pain, but most of the agents seemed to have gotten the message pretty quickly: run.

“We good to board?” Fiearius asked into his earpiece.

“We’re good,” replied Cyrus briskly. “Lockdown’s been lifted. Should be able to make it to the bridge unhindered.”

“Unless you run into anybody,” Addy added, worry in her voice.

“Nothin’ we can’t handle, right cap’n?” said Eve at his side, cocking her gun and beaming up at him.

Fiearius nodded into the ship. “Let’s go.”

Fortunately, whether they could handle it or not wasn’t an issue. As the group rushed through the great cold halls of the Satieran frigate, ready to fire at anything that moved, they passed barely a single soul.

At last, they stalked into the bridge. It was a wide, circular room — so unlike his cramped space on the Dionysian. But as large as it was, there was only one woman inside at the captain’s chair. Instead of putting up a fight, she stood up with her palms in the air.

“Hands up, weapons down, step away from the console,” Fiearius shouted, crossing toward her with his gun aloft, directly at her chest.

“Right, yes, of course, I’m unarmed,” said the woman quickly, voice shaking. She dressed head to toe in Society’s wear, the black librera stitched near her shoulder.

Fiearius nodded towards the console and Dez started over to it. “Oh I didn’t contact anyone, the communications are down anyway, and I — ”

“You the captain?” Fiearius barked. “What’s your name?”

“Y-yes sir,” she replied obediently. “Leisa. Leisa Fardan.”

“Where’s the rest of your crew?” Fiearius demanded, still not lowering his own gun from her in case she changed her tune. Judging by the fear in her face, he doubted it.

“After the attack started, I told them to evacuate,” she breathed hurriedly. “They’re just kids y’know. Didn’t want ‘em to get hurt — “

Fiearius eyed her skeptically, but it didn’t seem like she was lying. The agents on this ship were just kids, trying to meet one stupid requirement to secure an easy desk job. If he were her, he would have done the same. Gradually his grip on his pistol started to loosen.

But as Fiearius was considering her, her mouth fell open in shock as recognition filled her eyes.

“You — you’re him, aren’t you?” she whispered, making him blink in confusion. “You’re that rogue Verdant! But you’re supposed to be dead!”

“Well,” Fiearius muttered, wrong-footed. He tightened his grip again. How much did she know? He suddenly felt very much in dangerous territory. “Obviously I’m not.”

But if this woman knew what being Verdant meant, knew that she was a few feet away from taking all the power of the Society in her hands, she didn’t show it. If anything, she showed, confusing as it was, excitement.

“Wow, I can’t–” she began, stumbling over her words. “This is so incredible, I can’t believe it. You’re — you’re a legend!”

Fiearius could only stare at her, perplexed. He glanced sideways: Dez looked puzzled, and Eve just raised her brows at him curiously.

“I’m a traitor,” he reminded the woman carefully.

“To the Council maybe,” she admitted. “Always been a legend to me and mine.” She lowered her arms, but when both Dez and Eve repositioned their sights on her, she threw her palms back in the air again. “The way you escaped, the way you just kept on eluding capture even after all that time and all those people they sent after you — people are talking,” she added in an excited whisper, as if her employers might swoop down at any moment.

“Talking?” Fiearius muttered.

“You’re an inspiration, sir! Really.” Suddenly, her face fell with sadness. “When we heard they’d finally gotten ya, we were so disappointed. Maybe gettin’ outta this nasty web wasn’t as possible as we’d hoped.  But–” The grin returned. “Here you are. In the flesh. I can’t believe it.”

Neither could he. Dez and Eve was looking to him for instruction, but all Fiearius could do was stare at this strange woman. Society agents, his old colleagues, actually admired him? People were, as she said, ‘talking’?

With a murmur of conversation, the group dissolved and everyone left for their positions — everyone but himself and Leta, who both lingered as people hurried past them.

“Sorry I told Corra,” she muttered, a small smirk at her lips. “I couldn’t help it, she’s been pestering me for news. She did say she wouldn’t tell anyone else, so … “

“So it’s only a matter of time before the whole span knows,” Fiearius finished. “Have you met my crew? S’alright — I didn’t expect this to stay quiet for long anyway.” He smiled, but it faded from his face. “So. You ready for this?”

A determined light came to her face. “Ready to take a swing at the Society? Oh … I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Let’s just pray it doesn’t end up biting us in the ass,” he muttered, his first outward display of worry, and he felt her fingertips brush gently against his forearm at his side. He met her bright green eyes steadily and felt a lift in his chest. A seed of hope maybe, but more than that. The reminder of why he was doing this at all. All that the Society had taken from him. From her. All that it continued to take, day by day. And all that it would take in the future if he didn’t act.

No, he was done being complacent.

“Well if this doesn’t work,” he told her, “I’m blaming you for telling me it was a good idea.” But she only grinned.

“I can live with that.”

“Soliveré,” came a bark behind him. It was Quin, all business as she approached his side. “It’s nearly time. You ready?”

Before he could answer, Quin’s attention moved to Leta. Interest lit up her eyes. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Quinida Utada.” She held out her hand, which Leta shook briskly.

“Leta Adler. Nice to meet you.” As the crowd began to move toward the doors, Leta added, “Sorry, I better go find Finn — see you afterwards,” she added toward Fiearius, catching his eye meaningfully. He lifted two fingers in a lazy salute, then she disappeared.

As Fiearius followed Quin toward the A-group meeting point, Quin mused, “She’s mighty pretty.”

“Don’t,” Fiearius muttered under his breath, but Quin chuckled and patted his back.

“Good for you, Soliveré. ‘Bout damn time.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Fiearius paced back and forth outside the warehouse doors, too keyed up to stand still. Adrenaline was starting to flow through his veins, which usually served him well on jobs like this.

Dez stood at his side, calmly adjusting his rifle.

“Are you able to focus?” was what he asked suddenly, a question that made Fiearius halt. It was the same question he always asked years ago, whenever he’d been spending time with Aela before a job or whenever he took Denarian to the park on a morning they had work in the evening. There were many things he didn’t miss about Desophyles; the passive aggressive judgment was certainly amongst them.

In their younger years, this would have spiraled into a heated fight. Now, Fiearius just snapped, “Of course,” and turned away from him. As much as he wanted Dez beside him on this operation, he was hardly in the mood for his commentary.

Fortunately, a distraction arrived.

“Soliveré, I nearly forgot,” said Quin as she approached once more. “This is Everett Harper, one of my best gunhands.”

Beside Quin stood a middle-aged woman — early 40s, perhaps — with dark skin, short mousy brown hair, and dirt-streaked clothes. She looked like she’d seen her fair share of fights as gnarled, deep scars masked her face, and she was heavily armed, guns at her back, hips, and one resting in her hand.

“Hey, cap’n,” she said, freeing one hand from her gun to shake his. “Good to meet ya.”

“She’s decided to leave my little outfit and seek employment off Archeti, unfortunately,” Quin explained. “She’s served me well for fifteen years so I would like to make sure she ends up somewhere worthy of her talents. Your little rustbucket came to mind.”

“Well, the Dionysian could certainly use another gunhand.”

“Figured as much. What d’ya say she joins your team on this run? Give her a test drive. I promise she won’t disappoint.”

Fiearius lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Sure, why not? Welcome to the team, Harper,” which made Eve suddenly beam with pride.

“Just you wait, cap’n. I’ll show ya how good I am.”

Quin suddenly straightened up, pressing her ear to listen for the signal. “The ships have landed,” she said to Fiearius after a moment. “C teams are heading in.”

“Affirmative, B teams,” Fiearius called into his own COMM. “Ready?”

“Ready,” came the somewhat shaky voice of Cyrus into his ear.

“Ready,” said one of Quin’s engineers.

“Ready,” said Leta.

“On my signal,” Fiearius told them, tense in anticipation. He looked over at Quin who was frowning at the floor, listening to the signals in her ear. Minutes passed that felt like hours before finally, she glanced up at him and nodded firmly. “Go. Now,” he ordered at once. An array of confirmations flooded into his earpiece as the B teams headed for the ships.

Leaving only them. Quin stepped over to him, swinging her rifle in her hand. “What do you say, Soliveré?” she mused, impossibly calm as always. “A thousand credits to the first of us to make it to our bridge?”

Fiearius frowned, but only in thought. “Make it two thousand. I could use some easy cash.”

Quin grinned. “You’re on.” Briskly, she  turned to face the door and cocked her rifle in her hands. “Let’s go kick us some Sochy ass, shall we?”

He felt himself come to an unsteady halt. How much did Addy know about the Dionysian’s clandestine dealings? Did she know he was first mate on a dirty criminal pirate ship? He knew that she was no fan of the Society herself, but that didn’t mean she would approve of this ridiculous mission …

Choosing his words carefully, he began, “Well, they only use the ships now for low priority work, and my brother’s planning a–we’re going to–board–some 800’s and well–”

Naturally, Addy was sharper than that.

“You’re stealing some Satieran ships?” she demanded in disbelief, no longer looking amused. For a moment, Cyrus froze, but then a sly grin began to bloom on her face. “I’m in.”

– – – – — – – – — – – – — – – – — – – – — – – – –

Quin’s warehouse was crowded, buzzing with anticipation. In thirty minutes, her people and Fiearius’ would be in place, ready to break into the unsuspecting supply drop ships and claim them for their own. In thirty minutes, they would make their first small strike against the Society.

Fiearius occupied the far corner of the open room, using the dim light from the windows to clean the dismantled pieces of his favorite pistol. Quin strode over, brisk and important.

“The C teams are nearly all in position,” she informed him. “Ready to swarm those ships like ants on a picnic soon as I say the word.”

Fiearius smiled at her, slipping the pieces of his gun back together with a click. “Good. What time is it?”

“Twenty-five minutes ‘til they land.” Her lips pursed, and she tilted her head at him in that thoughtful, knowing way she often did. A smile cracked over her face. “You excited?”

At that, he couldn’t help but laugh. He felt more nervous than excited, quite unable to forget what would happen if this operation went the slightest bit south. He had been actively avoiding the Society ever since he was exiled from Satieri. Never had he actually sought them out. Never had he taken the offensive against them.

He smirked grimly. “Not the word I’d use.”

“Hey-yo,” came the boyish greeting from across the warehouse. Both pairs of eyes swung towards Finn. Behind him was Corra, and then Cyrus and Addy walked together a few feet behind and Leta brought up the rear, chatting with two of Quin’s engineer girls.

Fiearius straightened his shoulders with confidence. “Ah, my lovely B teams,” he called cheerfully, spreading his arm and smiling at them all. “All done with your briefing?”

“Best we could for now,” Cyrus replied, though he looked more relaxed and confident than usual. He even looked a little nicer too — had he fixed his hair or something?

“We gave the other teams all the basics,” said Addy brightly. “They’ll go in and shut down the security systems so the A teams can advance. And me and Cy’ll update them on anything funky via COMM if anything comes up.” She tapped the headset in her ear.

“Works for me,” said Fiearius. “So you all get the plan then? The Society supply ships land. The C teams move in and create a ground distraction on the street. B teams, that’s you — “ He nodded towards the groups before him. “ — head aboard your designated ship and go straight for the security control. Follow Cy and Addy’s instructions and shut it down. Then hit the communications. We don’t want them calling for backup.”

“And if we can’t reach the COMM room in time, if they manage to send out the SOS before we can block it, we’ll scramble their coordinates,” Cyrus added. “That backup won’t know where to look.”

“Once those two things are done, just head back out and support the C teams if they need it. Meanwhile, the three A teams, lead by me, Quin and Aeneas, board and seize control of the bridges. All teams round up any excess Society agents and figure it out from there. We need to pull this whole operation off as quickly as possible. Timing is everything. The longer this takes, the lower our success rate so move. And move fast. Understood?”

“Y’know, what I don’t understand,” put in Finn suddenly, “is why I’m on a B team at all. I oughta be slinging guns with you. Thought we had something special, mate.”

Corra snorted. “You’re on a B team because he needs you to protect his lady friend,” he said, elbowing Leta’s side.

Though he’d been trying not to, Fiearius briefly caught Leta’s eye as she shook her head, a shade of pink in her cheeks. Of course she’d told Corra about their last few days together; they shared everything, no matter how personal. He smirked at her, then looked back at Finn.

“You’re on a B team because you know ships. You’re on a B team with the doc because her sense balances out your need to show off, so the two of you might pull out of this alive together.” He raised a brow at Finn, daring him to contest it, but Finn lifted his hands in surrender. “Any other complaints?”

“Yeah,” said Corra, arms crossed. “I thought I was done following orders from you when I got my own ship.”

“If I recall correctly, you volunteered,” Fiearius countered.

“Well of course, I gotta protect my engineer.” She wrapped her arm around Addy’s shoulders.

“Any real concerns?” Fiearius rephrased. When the group before him just mumbled in a generally negative direction, he clapped his hands together. “Good. Grab your arms and take your positions then. Be careful. Watch out for each other. Come back alive.”

Which was why Fiearius had made the calculated decision, a half hour ago, to down a half-pill of Flush. Just a half of a pill was all, just to get him moving. Now, that jumpy energy was just starting to return to his legs, his mind was just beginning to snap awake ….

Twenty minutes later, Fiearius was stepping into Quin’s office with his usual swagger, Dez on his heels. Her office was a large room cluttered with antiqued sofas and desks, and it was empty, but only for a moment.

“There you are,” came Quin’s bemused voice as she strode in through the opposite door and closed it behind her, clicking it shut. She was an older woman, with creases lining her eyes and her grayed hair pulled back to the nape of her neck. A few scars marred her features, and, typical of Archetians, the city’s smog had stained her clothes and skin, but she held herself like an Ellegian noble nonetheless. For someone with a stature so small, her presence overflowed the room. Even Dez straightened his shoulders.

“Soliveré,” she greeted, spreading her arms, pulling him into an embrace and swiftly kissing either of his cheeks. “Not dead then, I see.”

“Did you hear otherwise?” Fiearius couldn’t help but ask as he drew away.

“Oh I read the Satieran newsfeeds, my dear. Dead as a damn doornail,” she cooed, rather wistfully, though a smirk spread across her face as she lifted her hand to his cheek. “Knew it couldn’t be true. Although — “ She suddenly frowned, her dark eyes shifting over his face. “There’s something different about you.” The older woman held him by the shoulders, searching his face. “You don’t have the usual gloom and doom in your eyes. Somethin’ got your spirits up, hun?”

“Can’t imagine what,” Fiearius replied, an image of innocence that Quin hardly bought.

“Yeah, I bet.” She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “You’ll have to introduce me later, hm?”

She always had managed to read him like an open book. But for now, Quin spun around and stalked back into the center of the room. “Well, just glad to see you in the land of the living. The day you’re actually dead is the day the Carthians give up on the border planets. Come in!” she ordered, “Have a seat.”

As always with Quin, Fiearius did exactly as he was told and lowered into a high-backed chair. Although he didn’t particularly want to stay long, he kept obediently quiet when she suddenly called, “Aeneas! Where are you? We have company, bring drinks.”

Aeneas was Quin’s — Assistant? Right hand man? Bodyguard? Fiearius had known him for four years and still wasn’t sure. The younger man slid into the room silently, poured drinks out of a glinting decanter, and passed them to each person in the room. Quin herself lounged back in her usual ripped up armchair, exuding importance from every pore.

“You know, for someone from such an affluent planet, you sure do have terrible manners,” she remarked, a sudden bite in her voice that made him wince. “Not calling for months, dropping in unannounced … failing to introduce to me your friend here.”

Dez had taken the seat beside him, silent and stoic as always.

“Right,” said Fiearius quickly. “This is Desophyles Cordova.”

Quin’s expression darkened, though Dez didn’t seem to notice. “A pleasure to meet you ma’am,” he announced on cue, reaching forward to shake her hand.

Quin just eyed his hand with distaste. “Ma’am?” she repeated. “How old you think I am that I wanna be called ‘ma’am’?” Dez looked as close to perplexed as his face allowed.

Eager to smooth it over, Fiearius added, “He’s my…business associate,” but the explanation had the opposite effect.

“Don’t think me to be dumb, Soliveré. I know damn well who Desophyles Cordova is and what he done. All I want to know is what he’s doing here.”

“Helping, ma–” Dez began, but managed to cut himself off as Quin lifted her brows at him in a rather threatening manner.

“He’s joined the Dionysian’s crew,” Fiearius cut in. “He’s one of mine now. If you trust me,” he told her seriously, “you can trust him.”

Quin hardly looked convinced. Her cutting glare continued to invisibly rip the man before her to shreds, but somehow, miraculously, her posture slackened. “Fine,” she snapped. “You’ve been good to me, Soliveré. I’ll give you this. But if lettin’ this Sochy scumbag walk in and outta here alive comes back to bite my ass in any way, there’ll be hell to pay for the both of ya.” She took another long sip from her glance and through the wince that followed, she asked, “So what is it ya need, huh? Work? Got plenty of goods need movin’, plenty of lives need stoppin’, pick your poison.”

“Actually,” said Fiearius, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “I’m here with a proposition.”

Her interest was clearly piqued. “That so?”

“You know the Society supply ships?”

“No, sweetie,” she muttered sarcastically. “Never heard of ‘em.”

Ignoring her, he went on, “I have information on the ships, their crew, their specs, their shipments, I–”

But before he could even get to the meat of the plan, she cut him off. “Hang on now, sweetie, haven’t you gone after Society supply drops before? Last time, you were here even? This sounds mighty familiar.”

Fiearius resisted the urge to groan, though he had to note Cyrus would be even more embarrassed to realize how many people still remembered that. “Okay that. That was my brother and my doctor trying to trade marked weaponry for med supplies with Grice. And every single word in that sentence is just…wrong. Bad news. All around. This is different. This is me and you and our people using a royal flush of confidential intel to take three Society ships for all they’re worth.”

All the while as he spoke, Quin watched with her solemn, thoughtful stare, the edge of her glass perched against her lips as though she was debating whether or not to take a drink. She remained that way for what felt like an hour even after he was finished. She was so still and silent that Fiearius wasn’t even sure if she’d ever answer at all.

But at last, she lowered the glass from her lips and asked, “What is this ‘confidential intel’?”

Fiearius grinned. “Did you know the ships they send on these runs are the retired models of their mainline frigates?”

“I didn’t, but I’m not surprised.”

“And did you know that those models were retired due to their faulty security systems?” Quin’s brows visibly lifted on her forehead. Fiearius went on. “How about that ninety percent of the crews manning those ships are fourth division Transport agents? That the Archetian supply run is most commonly recommended as an easy way to meet the single required induction flight to qualify those who are after a cushy third division desk job? Or that, due to the captains’ trade deals with local Genisian gangs, the run is seen as so low-risk that the ships only carry enough weaponry to arm 1% of its crew?”

At this point, Quin looked genuinely impressed. But as usual, she wasn’t. “And where did you come across this intel?” Her glare turned back towards Dez. “Excuse me if I feel inclined to question some of your sources.”

“You’ve read the news,” Fiearius said, drawing her attention back to him. “You know what I am. This is the kind of access the gig comes with.”

“Ah yes. The perks of being Verdant?” she said the word as though it was coated in something rotten. “And I’m offended, by the way, you never mentioned that to me before.” Fiearius shrugged helplessly, but a guilt trip didn’t appear to be on her mind. “So you want to assault the Society ships when they bring the supplies. And you want my help?”

“They’re sitting ducks, but they still outnumber my handful of gunhands. Not to mention whatever other gangs might not be so happy we’re cutting off their supply line.”

Quin scoffed with amusement. “Other gangs? Childsplay. So — let’s say I lend you my manpower. What’s in it for me?”

“Three Society ships and whatever the hell’s on ‘em,” Fiearius said briskly. Though what he saw as a gesture of good will, she clearly saw as trouble, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Then what’s in it for you?”

“I’ll take a small cut to keep my ship afloat, but the rest is yours.”

“Then,” she said, more sharply now, “what’s in it for you?”

Well, she certainly wouldn’t let that one go. He wrinkled his forehead with thought. “Tell ya what. Send me the newsfeed the day Satieri reports the theft.” A smirk grew on his face. “I can’t wait to read their take on it.”

Quin observed him carefully, but realization slowly dawned on her. Disproval lined her face, but she was laughing as she said, “You just ain’t right in the head, are ya Soliveré?” She let out a sigh and leaned back in her chair. “But as much as I shouldn’t take advantage of the ill…I can’t say no to three new Satieran ships, can I?” A gentle smile curved her lips. “I think we may just be able to work somethin’ out.”