The bridge sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment too long until finally Eve asked boldly, “If you wanted to leave the Society too, ma’am, why don’tcha?

The captain grimaced. “It ain’t that easy. Lot of us don’t have the resources to try and leave. Nor the bravery…”

Bravery? Resources? Was this woman nuts? Fiearius wondered. It wasn’t bravery nor resources that lead him to flee. She had no fucking idea. No fucking clue what had happened. No clue who had to die to bring him to this. “But you have a ship,” he pointed out suddenly, feeling his confusion turn towards irritation.

“Well, yes, but–”

“You have a ship, you have free reign to just go whenever you want,” he snapped. “An old, crappy ship they won’t even chase you down to take back.” A wave of rage rushed over him. “You’re free. They don’t give a shit about you. You are so fucking free, there is nothing stopping you from leaving, how fucking dare you make excuses?!”

He hadn’t realized that he had taken a step closer, adopted a more threatening stance, tightened his grip on his pistol until he saw the woman’s expression change, very quickly, from excitement to utter fear.

“P-please,” she begged quietly, holding up her palms to him. “Please don’t kill me. I have a family. A husband. Two little boys. Please. Take the ship, just please don’t kill me.”

Fiearius’ stance slackened, the heat of anger leaving him. He took in a deep breath and let out a sigh, his arm dropping to his side. “I’m not gonna kill you.” He shook his head. “I just–” Lost control of myself for a moment. Must have been the pill he’d taken a few hours ago, getting the best of him. Fucking Flush. Even ‘free’ from the Society as she seemed to think he was, he was still caught up in their hold.

“I’m not gonna kill you,” he said again, shoving his pistol in its holster at his hip. “Just–promise me one thing.” The woman looked up at him, relaxing, if only a little. “Go home. Get your family. And leave.” Before it’s too late, he added silently.

“How?” the woman breathed in disbelief. “W-where do we go?”

That’s not my fucking problem, Fiearius wanted to reply. But after a moment, the answer hit him. “Carthis,” he said shortly. “Go to Carthis. You’ll be safe there.” And without really knowing what he meant, he added, “Tell the others too.”

The woman seemed to understand. She nodded seriously. “I will. I promise.”

Fiearius turned his back to her, unable to look at the woman any longer. Sighing, he put his hand to his ear and spoke into the earpiece. “You know my routing number, Quin. Think you owe me some credits.”

“That so, Soliveré?” came Quin’s voice in reply. “Got your bridge all secure?”

“Sure do,” he replied, glancing at the woman who was quickly gathering her bag and supplies. “The captain was surprisingly cooperative.”

“Oh that’s nice,” Quin mused and after a moment, added, “I had to shoot mine.”

Fiearius raised his brows in surprise and glanced down at the captain who, horribly, heard that. She dropped her bag in shock.

Fortunately, Quin provided a distraction as she went on, “C teams, head in to secure the ships. A and B teams, meet on the docks for debrief.”

Eve and Dez moved toward the hallway. Fiearius lingered for a moment, his eyes on the captain.

“Follow me,” he told her suddenly. “I’ll make sure you get passage back to Satieri.”

“Are you — are you sure — ”

“Do it,” he snapped, and she slowly nodded her head, looking thunderstruck.

“Thank you, I don’t know how — “

He nodded grimly, ready to end this, but then she put her hand on his arm. “I’m not the only one, y’know,” she whispered. A smile pulled across her face. “You’re not alone.”

Silence passed between them; Fiearius could think of nothing to say. Not alone? What did that even mean? Was the Society losing control? Could it mean —

Suddenly, behind Fiearius, both doors slid sharply closed with a thud of metal, blocking Dez and Eve in the hallway. Tensing his hand around his gun, Fiearius spun around, ready —

A rush of black clothing went past his eyes and then, before he could blink, before he could move at all, white-hot pain was exploding down his shoulder. The intruder had sliced him clear open with a blade and he let out a guttural yell as hot sticky blood flooded down his arm.

“Who is it?” cried Leisa, wheeling around, thinking perhaps the intruder was one of her own. “Stop! Stop, whoever you — “

Gritting his teeth, Fiearius manically scanned the room, trying to catch up with the figure that was darting behind walls, crouching behind consoles, expertly dodging in and out of sight. Wounded he may have been, but he was more prepared: another rush of dark clothing passed his eyes, and he ducked out of the way as a blade swung over his head. He shot out his leg, making contact with a thigh.

He jumped back to his feet and grabbed his pistol. This time when the figure darted past, he glimpsed a blur of slick white-blonde hair. There was something familiar about it …. About her …

He had no time to search his memory. The strikes were unrelentless, untiring, again and again he ducked from her blade, blocked her blows. The blade knicked his arm, sliced the back of his hand until finally he gave up defending and suffered a nasty cut on his neck for the chance to deliver a forceful punch to the figure’s head. She was knocked off balance, and her blade clattered to the floor.

Seizing the moment, Fiearius stood upright, squeezed the trigger halfway and then — as soon as he got the first true look at his assailant — he froze. The blonde hair, the tight jawline, the tattoo on her neck. The cruel narrowed eyes staring him down. Recognition flooded his senses.

“ … Varisian?” he breathed, like he’d seen a ghost.

Ophelia Varisian. That was her name. On Satieri, she’d been the next rising star in Internal Affairs before Fiearius’ abrupt departure. Quick, deadly, clever, she was more motivated than any of their contemporaries: while the rest of the department was drinking in the Entertainment District on a Friday night, she could be seen in the HQ gym, training alone. She’d even refused to work with a partner. On one memorable occasion, she cheerfully informed Fiearius that she intended to become the next Prime once he’d been killed. He’d laughed at the time, though it was decidedly less funny now.

Because here she was: on Archeti, ready to kill him.

Ten feet away, the captain Leisa suddenly let out a shaky cry. Ophelia crouched and picked up her fallen blade gently from the floor. Before Fiearius could move, the blade flashed past his eyes, flew through the room and embedded itself directly into the captain’s chest.

Transfixed, horrified, Fiearius watched as Leisa fell to her knees. She went eerily still, then dropped face-forward into the floor.

Ophelia turned back, gun in one hand and blade in the other.

“Dov’ha rei’ja, Soliveré,” she said coldly, bidding him a final Ridellian farewell as she raised a gun to his head.

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.”