Cassius Jet wanted to keel over, but he didn’t. He stood erect and very still with his hand in Maverick Lopin’s grip, and he stared right into the blonde man’s icy eyes. A faint smile played on Lopin’s lips, almost imperceptible, and Jet thought that man right there knew him.

He swallowed and stuttered,

“H-have we?”

What else was there to say? He had to feign innocence, right now, before Lopin came out with the accusation that he’d tried to kill him.

“Yeah, you probably don’t remember me,” the First Officer said. Jet almost laughed out of sheer incredulity.

How could I forget? I can still hear you screaming.

Lopin paused for just a second to take a breath, but that moment stretched agonisingly long for Cassius. He watched the man’s mouth and waited for the words to tumble out.

“But I saw your speech that you gave at the Annual gala, about three years ago I think it was.”

Jet blinked. What? His heart was now in his throat, a fat rock pressing on him something burdensome, and his mind was sprawling like a pair of hands searching for something in the dark to orient him. Act fucking cool. Answer him.

“The Annual gala. Right, that was three years ago, over on, ah, –”

“Aldeen,” Lopin supplied, without missing a beat.

“Aldeen. That’s it,” Cassius murmured.

Lopin smiled.

“It was a great speech,” he said. “Anyway, we spoke afterwards but only for a short time.”

Cassius didn’t remember that. Didn’t remember much of the night because he’d gotten as polite-drunk as he could, right after his speech ended. But he’d remember Lopin anywhere, there was no doubt about that. Fear had a way of sobering you up like nothing else.

Their handshake ended and a momentary silence lingered between them.

“You’ve always been an inspiration for me coming up in the ranks sir,” Lopin added. “It’s a great honour to get the opportunity to work with you now.”

He looked at Cassius very earnest like, eyes wider now and face serious. The compliment only served to knock Cassius further off-guard. He just couldn’t believe it. He’s got no idea. Cassius nodded and cleared his throat again and managed to choke out some thanks before Commander Dall interjected.

“I’ve arranged for the briefing to take place in the cafeteria. Your crew should be gathered already.”

Lopin’s eyes left Cassius as if he had to drag them away.

“Of course.”

He held his hand to the door, and Commander Dall gathered his folders from the table and marched out. Now it was just Lopin and Cassius in the room alone, and Lopin was blocking the doorway. Cassius balled his hands into fists, the nails of his fingers digging into his palms. He didn’t say anything yet. He waited just like a game animal would wait to see if the hunter had caught him in his sights or not. If he was about to get shot or not.

“It’s weird, huh?” Lopin said softly.

Jet’s heart thrummed wildly in his chest.

“What is?”

All of this. You and I, in the same place again. No blood, no violence, not this time. Just politeness and formality.

Lopin held a palm up.

“Company people running military errands.”

Cassius breathed out.

“Ah. Well, the Federation needs as many experienced hands as possible. This war caught everyone by surprise.”

Lopin hummed in agreement. “I guess we’re it, Captain.”

And then he smiled, but the look in his eyes didn’t change.

“Commander Dall tells me you’re ex-military,” Cassius said.

“Seven years piloting war ships like the one out there.”

“Is that so? And how many years have you been with the Company?”

“This is my fourth.”

Cassius was hurriedly doing the math in his head. Lopin would have already been in the military for two years when he was on Dinar. He would’ve been on shore leave. Bloody hell.

“With your experience you’re better placed for this than I am,” Cassius said in a steady voice, looking up at his counterpart. Lopin breathed out a bitter sounding laugh and shook his head.

“There’s a reason I left the military, Captain. War doesn’t agree with anyone.”

Cassius half-frowned, half smiled. It was a reasonable observation, but he didn’t know how to react to it. He didn’t know how he should feel towards Lopin. He wanted to be threatened because that was natural and right, all things considered, but Maverick Lopin seemed to be a normal, if not agreeable, fellow. And he didn’t remember Cassius. That was what mattered. He had no idea what Cassius did, and what he did would go forgotten forever. It was over.

“Just don’t tell Commander Dall I said that,” Lopin added with a quick grin.

Cassius laughed, despite himself. It’s over, leave it alone. He nodded at the door.

“Shall we?”

***

The cafeteria was a long and grey room lit up like daylight and lined with steel tables and stools welded to the ground. It was the largest empty space in the ship and it was already filling with crew. They’d gathered in sombre groups at the few tables near the front, conversing in low mutters. It was more people than Cressida was used to, with most of her cargo jobs run on a skeleton crew of ten people or less. This crew looked to be around twenty-five people and she wasn’t sure everyone was here yet.

She’d already met her manager that morning when she dropped by the Logistics office. A tall, gruff man with a broken nose and square jaw, she recognised Leopold Barnabas towering over everyone. He was a handsome man in a frightening sort of way, like he was cut from night itself, eyes dark and cold like a crow’s. They found her immediately and reviewed her body for the briefest of moments, before they returned to her face.

“Cressida,” he said in his low growl.

“Leopold.”

She stopped beside him. He gestured at the woman standing next to him.

“This is Idalyn Circe, Logistics administration.”

Idalyn was a redhead in her early thirties with snow-white skin and a red-lipped mouth already curved in a smile.

“Hi,” she said, shaking Cressida’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Cressida said. “Is this the whole Logistics team?”

“You expected more?” Leopold said, and his mouth wrangled into an off-kilter smirk. She noticed then he had a scar that split his lip near the middle.

“It’s a big crew,” she said. “I didn’t know what to expect.”

She scanned the individual faces around her. All of them were withdrawn and wary. Many kept glancing at the front of the room. The mission was already weighing on them and the ship hadn’t even left the loading station. Half the work’s already done. Their fear was an opportunity for her.

Two familiar faces stood out in the crowd. The shock of straight black hair and black eyes belonging to pilot Finch Arlo, and the stout brown-skinned Brecken Carla, the second cook. She’d never met either of them, but Maverick showed her photographs during their planning stage. “You’ll need to know who’s already on your side. It helps. Makes things easier, if only for you, emotionally.”

“The mission is important, that’s why the crew is so big,” Leopold said.

“No,” she retorted, and both Leopold and Idalyn looked at her. “It’s dangerous. That’s why.”

The cafeteria’s double doors opened then and she witnessed a pillar-like figure in military garb stride to the front. He was followed shortly after by Maverick Lopin. Seeing him made her stomach do a little backflip and sent the hairs on her skin standing at attention. She wasn’t the only person in the room to be eying him like that. Two women nearby whispered to each other, but not quietly enough. Wow, look at him.

Oh, so being away for ages doesn’t seem so bad now?

Hell yeah. Is he the Captain?

No, the other one is, I think.

He’s hot too.

Girl he is smoking.

Single you think?

Does it matter?

Then they both started giggling and slapping each other. Cressida didn’t know why, but she was jealous just hearing it and she glared at the women and memorised their faces and every detail about them. She didn’t know what good that’d do, but she did it anyway because she wanted to know who she had to watch out for. Then she turned her attention back to the front and studied the Captain. He was a black man, tall and broad with a reserved manner, his keen eyes dark like stones. They darted around the place like he was constantly worried about what everyone was doing next. She wondered if he would be a problem. He looked like he could be.

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But Maverick Lopin, he was relaxed. Shoulders down, head tilted to one side, a very small smile on his lips, his warm blue eyes roaming across the crew, taking in every single face. He was noting the small details, the things that gave someone away. Who was more nervous than everyone else? Who spoke loudly, and who didn’t? Who stood in the centre of the group because they needed to be part of the majority? Who stood separate from the others and needed convincing? She watched him calculating it all like a predator and that stirred a familiar hunger in her body.

“That’s the Captain,” Leopold said.

“And the other one is the First Officer?” Idalyn asked.

“Yes,” Cressida said instantly. She watched Idalyn in her periphery. The woman was focusing intently on Maverick, lips curling and eyes practically dancing. Cressida bit her lip to stop herself from adding, He’s mine bitch, so don’t you even think about it.

***

“It’s a bigger crew than usual,” Maverick commented to Jet, who stood stiff-backed beside him with hands held behind his back. The grim man nodded.

“Like I said, as many experienced hands as possible.”

Cressida was standing off to the side and every few seconds her eyes would float over him. He restrained himself from giving her a wink, and focused instead on the five people approaching at Dall’s behest. They were introduced as the Bridge crew: four pilots and one chief engineer. Commander Dall went along the line one by one, and Maverick took mental notes as he did.

“Finch Arlo, pilot.”

He knew Finch. The man was smart, sharp and an excellent pickpocket. A good man to have in your corner. They shook hands and exchanged knowing smiles.

“Lucas Marsal, pilot.”

Lucas was a wiry man with a mess of black hair and a wispy beard around his lips. Despite his frame, he took Maverick’s hand surely and nodded. Duty-bound, honourable but not rigid.

“Atlas Plume, pilot.”

“It’s good to be workin’ with you, sir,” the man said. Maverick liked that. Plume was blonde, tall and looked like the sun had personally blessed him. Smiled easily, showed some teeth and leaned forward a bit. Friendly, looking for approval. Puts his friends over the rules. Plus, he detected an accent in the man’s voice, something rough and, well, poor. Good.

“Saskia Senny, pilot.”

The only woman in the group, Saskia was tawny-skinned and slender, with large dark eyes and a small pout. She shook Maverick’s hand without hesitation but her gaze flitted from his far too quick. Shy? Or maybe I make her nervous. He could definitely do something with that.

“And Rhett Casley, the chief engineer.”

Older man, low thick brows almost entirely concealing narrow eyes. Maverick could see a serious and honest mind behind them. Someone he could reason with, if everything else aligned.

He and Captain Jet went along the line, introducing themselves, and when they’d finished Commander Dall directed the Bridge crew to return to their seats. Seeing them sit down, the rest of the crew followed suit. Within moments, a pregnant hush fell over the cafeteria.

“Thank you,” Dall said, returning to the front. “Let’s begin the briefing.”

Maverick settled in a seat at the first table, beside Jet. The Captain was sitting with palms flat on each thigh, oddly tense and inhuman, like a machine.

“I am Commander Ricad Dall, the commanding officer of the military convoy escorting you on this assignment. I’m going to preface this briefing with this: you were offered this job because you have experience transporting energy goods in carriers just like this one across Federation space. You know the escalating situation we have with Krieg and his people. You understand that our military forces caught in that situation are in desperate need of resources, especially fuelling crystals, to carry on the fight and triumph. This is not a job for the military. We needed experts and you answered that call, despite the inherent risks we face.”

The silence was heavy, tense. Eyes stayed glued to Dall.

“This ship, WATC Dagger, is one of four mid-sized energy carriers tasked with travelling down the Osiris route and back. You know the Osiris route, most of you have flown down it before. It’s a popular trade tunnel for some of the Federation’s major planets. Unfortunately, those same planets are caught in this escalating situation. As such, you have three stops to make before returning to port at Hammersley: Ports Rostov, Jotunheim and Inverell, all of them space docks.

You, and the three other ships, WATC Black Bullet, Thunderbolt, and Dawn Break, will be escorted by four Ranger class warships, to make your delivery. You are aware it will take approximately four weeks to reach our first jump point. From there, it is a two week run, one week there and one week back to the returning jump point. The deliveries themselves are simple, and you’ve done them many times before. Our presence is simply to ensure you have no issues with pirates. It’s imperative the goods are delivered on time and intact.”

Commander Dall took in a deep breath.

“You are under the command of two very capable men.”

Maverick looked at Dall sideways.

“Captain Cassius Jet has been flying commercial freighters for twenty years. First Officer Maverick Lopin is a military-trained pilot. All of you are highly experienced in your roles. The brief is simple and straightforward. This assignment will be a success.”

Maybe the Commander had noticed the man in the front row chewing his bottom lip like it was a bit of food, or the woman behind him covering her mouth with one hand, a band of red seeping across her face. Maybe he’d seen that and thought it was pep-talk time before these civilians abandoned ship and the whole mission was over. But his words did nothing to soothe anyone’s nerves, that much was clear. People still stared with wide eyes at the towering military man and the air was charged with nervous electricity.

“The crystals will begin being loaded up after this briefing,” he continued. “I’ve been informed it should take about two hours, after which the convoy will be clear to depart. Post-briefing, please attend to your posts and conduct pre-flight preparations until we depart and rostered time begins. And please note, once the convoy departs, there will be no returns. Are there any questions?”

One arm instantly flew up. It belonged to a skinny kid with a shaved head who looked in his early twenties. His leg hadn’t stopped bouncing since the briefing started. Dall nodded at him.

“Hi, yeah, you said you’re there to protect us from pirates. What about Kriegers?”

Dall shook his head.

“No, the Osiris route is clear. There is no chance of interference from Kriegers.”

A few people exhaled at that answer.

“Any other questions?”

“Will the convoy be traveling in one stream?”

The same kid.

“Yes, it will.” There was a hint of annoyance in Dall’s voice. One stream?

“Isn’t that extremely dangerous?” a woman interjected, her brows yanked together and her mouth half-open in a snarky frown.

Maverick recognised her from the briefing sheet as an engineer. A ripple of murmurs erupted around her.

“When undertaken correctly, there is no danger using the same stream,” Dall responded evenly. The woman scoffed.

“Yeah, maybe when it’s one other ship you’re sharing it with. I mean, even then it’s dangerous. Certainly not eight other ships.”

No shit, Maverick thought. The crew were talking louder now, their eyes flashing at Dall. The woman that had spoken leant over and muttered something heatedly to the man beside her. Rhett Casley turned in his seat from a table in front and shot her a glare. She spotted him and pursed her lips and slid back in her chair.

“I assure you there is no danger,” Dall said over the noise. “As I said earlier, you are under the command of very capable men. It is much safer for us to travel in the same stream.”

“Why? You said all we have to worry about is pirates. That doesn’t warrant an eight-ship slipstream.”

“That’s right,” another added.

A few people had stood up now, expressions slowly turning from passively anxious to indignant, enraged even. Cressida’s manager, a mountain of a man, had edged towards the front of the room and was gesturing expressively.

Maverick chewed the inside of his cheek. It would work much better for their plan if the convoy didn’t use the same stream. It was a lot harder to separate from the flock if they were all in sight of one another. He leaned over to Jet.

“What do you think, Captain? Eight ships sharing a single stream? That’s not a practice I’ve ever followed.”

Captain Jet made a gravelly sound in his throat.

“Neither me.”

“One mistake and we’re colliding into each other at hyperspeed. We’ll be space dust.”

Jet started tapping on his right leg with his index finger. The crew members were still raising objections, voices competing with one another.

“You said there’s no threat from Kriegers. Why do we need to do it then?”

“It’s a lie! The Osiris route is probably crawling with them.”

“We could separate the streams, two ships at a time,” Lucas Marsal piped up, and that sparked another wave of discussion.

“The crew isn’t comfortable with it,” Maverick said softly to Jet. “It would be better to voice their opinions, don’t you think?”

Jet cleared his throat and stood up. Everyone in the room immediately quietened. Dall turned to look at him.

“With respect, Commander Dall, but perhaps there’s some merit in what my crew is suggesting. Traveling two at a time in a single stream would reduce the risks of losing the entire convoy should something go wrong, or should we become the target of malicious forces. We would still have the protection of your experienced crew by our side.”

Nods and exclamations of agreement from the crew. Dall evidently knew he was outnumbered, because after a few seconds, he sighed and nodded.

“Okay. I will arrange for the streams to be separated out and forward the amended data set for your pilots.”

There was a room-wide exhalation and shifting of bodies, and Captain Jet seemed to puff up a bit at that. Maverick didn’t want the crew to side with Jet if he could help it, but he’d let the man have this one for now. It was more important to separate the ships out. Other victories would come.

“Logistics, arrange for the cargo to begin being loaded up. God speed, Dagger.”

Dall nodded at the crew and pivoted and came over to where Captain Jet stood. Maverick stood up as well.

“I’ll be on the ship accompanying the Dagger,” he told them. “Any concerns, don’t hesitate to contact me over the comms.”

“Thank you, Commander Dall, for accommodating our concerns,” Jet said. Dall nodded and blinked a few times like he’d rather not hear about it. He bade them goodbye and walked away. When he had disappeared, Maverick said,

“He should be thanking you, Captain Jet.”

Jet looked at him, brow furrowed and eyes unsmiling.

“Why’s that?”

“The original plan was suicide.”

Jet didn’t say anything to that. He just gazed at Maverick with lips pressed together in a thin line. The Bridge crew came alongside then and Lucas Marsal thanked Jet for standing up for them. That seemed to ease the man’s manner and he even smiled. The others said more of the same thing, and Maverick noticed that Saskia thanked Captain Jet but looked at him instead.

***

“You heard the man,” Leopold said. He’d already started towards the exit. Cressida got up and started behind him. Idalyn walked beside her.

“That’s a relief,” she said, and she gave that nervous giggle people did when they didn’t want to admit they were afraid. “You ever flown slipstream before?”

“Once,” Cressida said. “With a shit outfit out of Edo that did all sorts of dodgy things. Their ships kept getting rolled by pirates, so they figured travelling in numbers would stop it.”

“Did it?”

“No,” Cressida muttered. “It didn’t. It was just fucking dangerous.”

She cast a look over her shoulder at Maverick. He was talking to the Bridge crew, smiling and working his magic. She tore her eyes from him and focused on Leopold’s broad back instead.

“The First Officer, what’s his name again?” Idalyn said.

“Maverick Lopin.”

“Maverick Lopin,” Idalyn repeated slowly, like she was savouring the name in her mouth, thinking about what it’d be like to say it under other, less formal, circumstances. Cressida got the sudden urge to punch her and set her mouth bleeding.

“Is he your friend?”

Cressida flashed her eyes up at the woman.

“Excuse me?”

“The First Officer, do you know him?”

Cressida felt a flash of heat in her gut, and she was sure she was blushing like mad. After a few stunned seconds, she barked a laugh meant to sound carefree.

“No, never met him before. Why?”

“Oh,” Idalyn said, and she put a hand to her forehead and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Cressida, I confused you with someone else. Don’t mind me!”

And just like that, the woman laughed and directed her gaze straight ahead again. Her answer didn’t sound sincere, just like Cressida’s laugh probably didn’t. So what? Idalyn knew she and Maverick were together? She’d only know that if she saw Cressida come out of Maverick’s quarters that morning, hair and clothes dishevelled. The implication would be clear, anybody with even one goddamn eye would see it. Fuck. It can’t be. Cressida had checked the hallway when she left. No-one had been there. Unless they were hiding, watching…

She slowed her walk and stared at the back of the woman as she swung her hips and flipped her hair over her shoulder and passed out of the double doors. No-one was meant to know about their relationship. They needed to be separate movers, they had to be individuals – there was power in that. And less suspicion. Less indication that something planned was going on. That was key in convincing the others the plan was organic, not the product of a concerted effort by a group working together in secret.

Cressida swallowed and cast one more glance over her shoulder. Through the rapidly dispersing crew she spotted Maverick Lopin’s golden head, and she noted with a flicker of rage that he was smiling as he spoke with the female pilot.