A sea of busy people hurried along the main docks, restocking supplies, refueling their ships, barking orders at deck officers. Cyrus had never much cared for the chaos of space ports, but now he wasn’t sorry at all the Dionysian and the Beacon had docked here for the night.

Mostly because of the company.

“It’s peaceful way up here, isn’t it?” said Addy at his side, sounding wistful. Together they sat on the edge of an overhanging catwalk above the chaos of the main floor, drinking beer and people-watching.

“Yeah. It is,” said Cyrus sincerely, tilting the bottle against his lips and sighing. “Thanks for bringing me up here. And for the beer.”

“Thank Finn, I stole it from his room,” she said with a wicked grin. “We should toast to our victory, shouldn’t we? And all those new ships you have now?”

He shook his head. “My brother handed the ships over to Quin. We’re sticking with our floating tin can. Which — thanks,” he said suddenly, “By the way. For helping with that.” He looked away and could feel his face turn slightly pink as he added, “You did great.”

To his surprise, Addy’s face lit up with excitement. “Really?! I did? I’ve never done anything quite that illegal before. Always kinda wanted to,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Really? I can’t say this line of work was ever something I considered getting into … “ He trailed off. “I don’t think you ever mentioned,” he said suddenly, “why you agreed to help. I know you said you left Satieri because of the Society, but … why?”

It was only after he asked that he realized how personal of a question that might have been. Quickly, he added, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. I was just curious, but–”

“It’s okay,” said Addy at once. “Really.” She drew in a deep breath and lowered her beer. “A couple years ago, the Society contacted us — my dad and me — to test out some engine prototypes for them. Real fancy stuff, my dad was so excited to have such a big client. Turns out, they’re the worst client we ever had.” She smiled, but it did not meet her eyes. “Wanted complete control over the whole process, wouldn’t let us back out … dropped in unexpectedly to see how it was coming along. We tried to back out several times, but they ended up seizing all of my dad’s work and never paid him. And, well,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “we needed — need — the money.”

Cyrus nodded, as if he understood at all. In his old life, his life before the Dionysian, he’d been a lead engineer at Sonnete Industries; he’d made more money than he knew what to do with. Credits flooded his account and he could have vacationed every year if he wanted. But he only nodded at Addy, who was pressing her fingers into her forehead, suddenly pained.

“It gets worse. A few months ago, while I was working late in the garage one night, they — well — we’ll never be able to prove it was them. But these men with guns, they came in and raided the whole place. Destroyed everything, all the work we were doing. Our garage is still in shambles.” She bit down on her lip, not looking at him. “My dad, he’s not the type to be easily intimidated, but — well, that really scared him. That’s why he made me leave. For Carthis. Thought it’d be safer for me.”

Cyrus felt anger flashed through him. Fiearius, Leta, Cyrus himself and now Addy. Who hadn’t the Society injured in some way or another? No wonder she had been so quick to volunteer to help on this job.

“Gods, that’s awful,” he said quietly, stunned. “I’m so sorry. ” Though he was worried he might touch on something even darker, he couldn’t help himself. “Your dad, you’ve talked to him since you left? He’s…he’s okay?”

“He’s okay. He’s still on Satieri,” said Addy, smiling sadly. “Because he’s stubborn, he refuses to leave. Well — can’t blame him, I guess. Paradiex isn’t an easy place to leave … as you well know, you’ve been gone a long time,” she added, throwing him a look of understanding. She wrinkled her forehead and frowned, a look he had never seen from her. She did not frown much.

“Does it ever get easier?” she asked wonderingly. “Missing home.”

What he wanted to tell her was yes. One day she would be glad she left Paradiex and no longer reminisce about the lights of the entertainment district brightening the skyline or the huge festivals in the streets for every Ridellian holiday or the massive tech conferences that brought together the greatest minds of the Span. But as of  that moment, he just didn’t think it was true.

So instead of reassuring her, he said, “It sucks. It really sucks being away from home.” He felt her curious stare, which he returned with a weak smile. “But it’s not all bad. I miss Satieri all the time. But truth be told, there are a lot of things I wouldn’t give up about the Dionysian either.” A more genuine smile started to form. “It never goes away and it doesn’t really get better. But I do think, as time goes on, it becomes easier to appreciate what you’ve got. Which makes the missing seem a little bit less bad.”

“I did have fun the last couple of weeks,” Addy admitted slyly. “Thanks for letting me help out on all the really illegal stuff.”

“You should probably get used to that,” Cyrus laughed. “I doubt Corra and Finn are planning on the Beacon being free from criminal activity.”

“Doesn’t seem that way, no,” Addy agreed. “Though I don’t know about this next job. We’re just transporting an old cargo ship for some guy. Seems harmless.”

“Oh it’s not,” he assured her. “Just wait. Something about the job breaks at least ten shipping regulations, I can guarantee it.” Her pleasant laugh reached his ears.

“So d’ya think your ship and my ship will cross paths again any time soon?” she asked.

Cyrus could only pray that she couldn’t tell how pink his cheeks had become. “Not sure,” he said, averting his eyes. “I usually make a point not to involve myself in the Dionysian’s schemes … “

“Well,” said Addy, her voice light and suddenly careful. “I really hope they do.”

Somewhat surprised, Cyrus glanced back to see her smiling sheepishly at him.  “Me too.”

“ … Everyone in the department knew that Varisian would succeed us eventually. Though most were polite enough not to mention it,” said Fiearius, breathing a tired sigh. He slumped on the edge of the exam bench in the infirmary while Leta tended to the gash in his shoulder, courtesy of Varisian herself.

Now that the Dionysian and the Beacon were safely in the air and Quin had been left to handle the situation on Archeti, they had a moment to debrief on their last moments of the job. The problem was Fiearius was having a hard time explaining. It still felt somewhat surreal, otherworldly. He should have been celebrating a victory. And yet …

“Did you know her well?” Leta asked, giving a painful tug on the stitching wire, making Fiearius grimace.

“Not really. But I knew she was good. Everyone knew she was good.”

“Ophelia was promoted to Internal Affairs Prime after your exile and my reassignment,” said Dez from his spot against the wall.  Usually, Leta ignored Dez’s presence entirely, but this time she glanced at him with interest.

“One of the most successful Primes in recent history,” he went on steadily. “She toppled our record in under three years. It’s no surprise the Council picked her to go after you now.”

Leta tied the wire into a swift knot. “So how did she find us then?”

Fiearius shook his head. “Wish I knew.”

“You’re not difficult to locate,” Dez pointed out. “The Council has eyes and informants everywhere. And you never fail to draw attention.”

Suddenly, Dez’ presence felt rather unnecessary. “Is that meant to be helpful?” Fiearius grunted.

“No. Informative. And perhaps something to consider in planning your next move.”

“Our next move is to hide,” said Leta at once. “This Varisian woman must’ve reported this by now. We’ll have to lay low for awhile.”

“Yes. We will.” Dez set his eyes on the doorway, pushed himself from the wall and crossed through the room. “I’ll see about landing us at a port off the grid. We need to refuel and regroup.”

Fiearius was not sorry at all to see him leave. After the door fell closed, he dropped his chin to his chest, exhaustion sinking through him as Leta worked quietly: applying salve to his cuts, finishing stitches in his arm. She was just cleaning blood from the beds of his nails with a damp cloth when her voice wound toward his ears.

“Are you alright?” she asked gently.

He lifted his head. Her bright green eyes were searching over his face, so he forced his mouth toward a heavy smile.

“I’m okay. Just a little shaken maybe.” He drew in a deep breath and had to admit, “But we did it. We actually did it. We won,” which made her expression lighten.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? And no one even got hurt.” Her gaze slid toward the stitches in his shoulder. “Well, not too badly anyway.”

Suddenly, his stomach twisted. He knew exactly what was bothering him.

“That’s…not entirely true,” he muttered, and Leta looked up again. Her hand was still holding his wrist, but she went still.

“There was a woman in the bridge,” he said quietly. “The captain of the frigate I was on. She was a Society agent, but…there was something different about her.  She–she didn’t make it. Varisian–”

Well, he didn’t need to repeat what had happened.

“ — got to her. But before she died, she said things to me that–I don’t know, they were strange.” He shook his head, bewildered. “She didn’t think I was a traitor. She said she admired me. That people were talking. That I’m not alone.”

Leta was surveying him intensely. Her expression was unreadable until she demanded in amazement, “People on Satieri are talking? Admiring you … ? Fiear, that’s — that’s really good. That means not everyone believes the propaganda the Society is spinning.”

“But whether they believe it or not doesn’t matter if they’re too afraid to do anything about it,” he couldn’t help but mutter. But Leta was not deterred.

“Who says they aren’t willing to do anything about it? Maybe not now. Not yet. But you’d be amazed how people will fight back when they’re given a shot.”

This was feeling rather familiar.

“Like you did,” he pointed out, and she smiled sadly.

“I don’t know if fleeing Vescent counts as defiance.”

“But teaming up with a crew of traitors?” he suggested. “Breaking someone out of a high-security prison? Raiding Society headquarters to halt an execution?” He grinned. “Not to mention befriending half of their Most Wanted list.”

“When you put it like that,” Leta laughed. “I’ve accomplished a lot lately.”

The smile faded from her face as she tilted her head, eyeing him knowingly. Too knowingly.

“Fiear, I’m sorry about the captain. Sounds like really she believed in something.”

He sighed. “I think she might’ve.”

Leta rested her forearm on his unwounded shoulder, her fingertips sliding up into the back of his hair affectionately. “Well, for what it’s worth — and I can’t believe I’m even saying this — “ She heaved a trouble sigh. “But, I’m proud of you.”

Suddenly, Fiearius felt more like himself. He could not resist: a smirk filled his face.

“A little,” Leta said quickly. “A little proud. Don’t let this get to your head — “

“You’re proud of me?” he demanded, sliding his palm to the small of her back. “You?”

Leta shook her head, but smirked at him as Fiearius wound both arms around her waist, pulling her close enough so their foreheads touched. “Well then. If it makes you so proud, maybe we should do jobs like this more often.”

“You want to make a habit of raiding Society ships?”

“Why not? We pulled in a decent haul to keep us going for a while, strengthened our relationship with a valued associate. And personally, I gained a large sense of satisfaction from the experience. Besides,” he scoffed. “I’m a legend now apparently. Gotta keep up my image.”

“The Society will get smarter about this,” Leta warned. “They won’t let it happen again. But,” she muttered, arching her eyebrows, “it is tempting … “

“Exactly. So we’ll hide for a bit …  let this pass …. spend some quality time in the privacy of the command deck,” he added slyly, his grinning mouth just barely grazing hers. “And maybe you can elaborate more on how proud you are of me.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

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’?