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.”

Smoggy gray light filtered weakly through the stained windows of the tavern. It was midday on Archeti and the dive bar held only a handful of people: the sleepy bartender, wiping down the greasy counter, and a few mumbling alcoholics slouched in their seats. Normally Corra would have been intrigued to find their life stories and talk up the whole bar — but today, she was distracted. She sat beside Finn and tapped her fingers on the counter, waiting for their new business contact who was supposed to meet them here. Thirty minutes ago.

“He’s late,” said Corra. As usual, Finn did not look bothered: he rested a forearm on the bar and drank from his beer.

“Yeah, Callahan’s the kind of guy who’s either an hour early or an hour late,” he mused. “It’s kind of a toss up.”

“Speaking of late.” Corra frowned. “Did you hear that the Dionysian was supposed to be here yesterday? Why d’ya think they’re coming to Archeti at all?”

“Fiear misses me terribly.”

Corra rolled her eyes and reached to slide her drink closer. “I really hope we don’t leave before the Dionysian gets here,” she said darkly, which made amusement come to Finn’s eyes.

“Corra, we haven’t even been apart that long.”

“Well it feels like ages.” Her eyes snapped towards the door. “So who is this guy again? How do you know him?”

“Callahan? We met in the Genesi casinos a few years ago.” He lifted his chin, looking a little proud of himself. “We made a killing for awhile counting cards in blackjack, beat the house a few times.”

“You counted cards?” she laughed.

“Well, he was way better at it than me — trust me, this guy’s a genius. A real freak.”

“If he’s such a genius, how come he’s wasting his brains at casinos?”

“He does plenty else,” Finn laughed. “Runs the vessel black market. Ships, ship parts, tech, and the like. Runs the smoothest and most complicated operation out of Archeti from his console at home and has never been caught. All the corrupt politicians want him on their side. And so do we. We ever got a shot on doing more than break even with the Beacon, this guy — he’s our ticket. Ah, and here he is.”

The door opened and in stepped a tall, wispy man with short dark hair, his hands tucked into the pockets of his crisp dark jacket. Somewhere in his mid-thirties, he looked rather like a strong wind could have blown him sideways. Corra would not have pegged him a seedy criminal thug, but then again, Fiearius’ old network of associates tended to be more burly, less brainy.

His face was pale and clouded, until he spotted Finn — then, he perked with mild interest and wound toward the bar.

“Finnegan Riley,” he said, smiling gently and holding out his hand. “It’s been too long for us.”

“No kidding. I think you’ve owed me a drink for a year now. How the hell are ya?”

“Never better, never better,” said Callahan lightly, before turning to Corra. His angular face was almost handsome, except there was something distantly cruel in his eyes.  “And you must be Corra? The first mate.”

“Co-captain, actually,” said Corra, and Callahan blinked slowly. He did not look like someone who was regularly corrected by anyone else.

“That so? Well, I do apologize. It’s nice to meet you, Corra. I hope you’re enjoying Archeti so far.” He lowered to his barstool, his grey eyes resting on her face. “Finn seems to believe you and your ship would be a good fit for my exporting operation.”

“Definitely,” Corra said with confidence. “I’ve been in the ‘exports’ business for years now on the Dionsyian. And the Beacon? She’s new, but I’m sure she can manage.”

“Mm.” Callahan was not looking at her, but examining a cocktail list. “What core did you say she runs on?”

Corra opened her mouth, then closed it again. She’d heard Cyrus say something about the Beacon’s core, but hell if she could remember the specific model. “Um…”

“I mean to ask, how fast is she?” Callahan clarified, lifting his eyes, which had grown much cooler. It was then Finn intervened.

“Fast and getting faster, mate,” he said briskly, swigging his beer and sighing. “Runs a 50-80 stabilizer, and I just hired an engineer to help me with some hotwiring.”

“Mm,” said Callahan again — it was an affirmation that he heard Finn, not that he was impressed. He laid down the menu and glanced again at Corra. “And what is it you smuggled on the Dionysian?”

Corra was certain he was baiting her. Carefully as she could, she said, “We moved weaponry.”

“Ah yes. Guns and ammo.”

After a short, uncomfortable pause, Finn said, casual as ever, “And they were pretty damn good at it too, eh? Corra and Fiear built up quite the reputation toge– “

“Certainly,” said Callahan, his eyes now on the ceiling. “Moving weaponry is just not what I do. In fact, pistols and bullets are nothing, nothing like the challenge of moving whole ships. Do you realize that? Every time you take apart an engine, every nut and bolt is marked and recorded somewhere.”

Corra did not know that at all, but she said nothing.

“I’ve been in the smuggling business since I was eighteen years old,” he went steadily. “And never once — not once — have any of my ships missed a drop. That’s how strict this business is.”

He stared right at Corra, eyes glinting. She was determined not to look away even though disappointment was sinking through her: there was simply no way this man wanted to partner with them. He was practically laughing in her face.

But then, to her shock, Callahan looked down at the bar and mused, “But I may have a job that’s just right for you. A simple lift, you pick up goods for me, move them successfully, I compensate you, fuel included.” He pressed his lips together in thought. “If you wouldn’t mind coming back to my office, we can discuss finances?”

“Hell yeah we can,” Finn said at once as he slapped a hand on his bony shoulder and beamed his most charming grin.

Following a step behind the pair, Corra did not feel like smiling at all; most especially when she heard Callahan say quietly to Finn, “In the future, you might want to keep your first mate more informed.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

From his spot atop the Dionysian’s ramp, Fiearius looked over the gritty maze of the Genesian streets and inhaled a deep breath of atmosphere. The smoke-thickened air of Archeti’s failing terraform certainly served as a reminder of the benefits of spaceship living. And there was nothing like Desophyles Cordova complaining nearby to serve as another reminder: why it was important to be a little more picky in who lived aboard that spaceship with you.

“We should have gone over the details by now,” Dez was saying as Fiearius stalked down the ramp, ignoring him as much as he could. But Dez kept speaking in his ear, machine-like and automatic. “There is a multitude of information that we must bring into consideration when we meet with Utada. It would have been wise to recount it all this morning.”

Fiearius barely glanced backwards. “I was busy.”

“We are unprepared,” he informed him matter-of-factly. “Utada will not offer assistance if we are unorganized. Perhaps it would be in our best interest to reschedule.”

At that, Fiearius let out a laugh. “It’s just Quin, Dez. Relax.” He threw him an amused glance. “You’re not nervous, are you?”

“Quinida Utada leads the most extensive and powerful gang on all of Archeti,” he said, marching along at his side. “She commands a small army and single-handedly wrenched all control of Archeti’s span-wide trade relations from her predecessors. She demands a great deal of respect and I feel no shame in approaching her with caution.”

There was something satisfying in witnessing Dez, a force of Society fear-mongering for so long, actually shift with unease now that he was in Fiearius’ territory. He couldn’t help but grin.

“Oh don’t get me wrong, she’s terrifying,” Fiearius admitted with another laugh. “But she likes me. We’ll be fine.”

He spoke with confidence, and Fiearius purposely did not let on that, actually, he was exhausted — Dez certainly didn’t need to know just how little sleep he’d gotten the night previous, and why, and with whom.