Chapter Text
The shooter was fast, but they were running out of places to go.
Up, up, up Dakota chased them, his heart pumping adrenaline through his body and flushing the fatigue out of his muscles. He and the Resistance soldier fell into a kind of rhythm, the sound of their boots thundering up concrete steps serving as their metronome. Flight after flight, floor after floor they passed, taking shots at each other whenever they reached a landing. As he blurred past the windows, Dakota glimpsed the riot below growing smaller and smaller.
When the shooter reached the roof, they were about fifty stories up. Dakota heard their footsteps abruptly stop, the screech of metal as they forced open the rusted door. The Resistance fuck was trapped and they both knew it. Dakota took the last flight of stairs at a jog.
The wind snatched at his hair as he stepped outdoors. The roof was clearly not built for anything more than maintenance – the concrete was weathered and cracked, coated in a fine layer of dust, black lichen crawling over the surface like a stain. There wasn’t even so much as a parapet around the edge – the roof simply fell away, leaving nothing but a sheer drop.
A faint click made him whip around. The shooter was standing about ten feet to his right. She was older than him, somewhere in her mid-thirties, platinum-blonde hair falling out of her bun. In the sunlight, it gleamed almost white. She had the Resistance symbol embroidered on her jacket, bold thread forming the shape of a teardrop. Her rifle was raised, the barrel aimed directly at Dakota’s head. The shot would have killed him, but apparently, she was out of ammo. Dakota shrugged a shoulder, testing his own rifle. Too light – he was out, too. But the shooter didn’t know that.
He took a step towards her. “Stand down, in the name of the Unity Empire.”
“Fuck you,” snarled the woman, backing away. She didn’t lower the rifle.
“Drop the weapon.” Slowly, steadily, Dakota pursued her, matching her step for step.
The sniper laughed, a sharp sound edged with bitterness. “Is that all you can say?” She was five feet from the edge. “Stand down. Clear out. In the name of the Empire.” Three feet. “You even human under there? Or just some kind of robot?” Two feet.
“Come on,” she sneered, still stepping back, “Take that fucking thing off. What are you, shy?” One foot.
Dakota wasn’t sure why he did it. Maybe he wanted to prove he was a real person to someone, anyone. The air was shockingly cold as he pulled the gas mask away from his face.
The hatred on her face evaporated so abruptly that Dakota froze for a moment. She stared at him, expression morphing into something like…pity.
“Oh,” she said, softly, “You’re just a kid.”
“Drop your weapon,” Dakota repeated. Without the filter, his voice sounded raw. Vulnerable.
She shook her head. She was practically skirting the edge now. “You really can’t see what they’re doing, can you? Poor kid.”
“Put. Down. The rifle,” He bit out. He refused to look at the sadness in her eyes.
She gave him an expression almost resembling a smile, inching back even further. “I’m sorry, kid. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
“STAND DOWN!” In a flash, Dakota yanked his plasma rifle over his shoulder. He took aim, hands shaking for a reason he couldn’t place.
“Don’t point that fucking thing at me,” she said, and stepped backwards onto thin air.
She didn’t mean to fall. That was one thing Dakota was sure of. In the fraction of a second before she disappeared over the edge, he saw her eyes widen, and he knew. That she’d simply gotten too close without realising. That she’d seen the rifle and moved back on instinct. That she hadn’t wanted to die.
Dakota’s gun wasn’t even loaded.
***
Dakota jerked awake, the phantom sensation of falling still chasing his limbs. There was a fuzzy haze filling his head and a throbbing pain in his…everywhere. He was being dragged somewhere, asphalt scraping across his knees and shins. Drowsily, he attempted to struggle, only to find his hands were restrained with cold durasteel cuffs. He cracked one bleary eye open and was instantly assaulted by too-bright sunlight illuminating the courtyard of an imposing concrete structure. There were muffled voices somewhere to his side, two other figures being pulled along with him, thrashing weakly. The building looked familiar.
It was at the wrong angle, though. He was used to seeing it from outside the gates.
Even in his pain-muddied state, Dakota’s heart sank as he was slowly escorted towards the entrance of the New Haven Maximum Security Prison.
***
He was 0.4 parsecs out from Niovis, and William still hadn’t managed to encrypt the radar signal on his damn ship.
Admittedly, it was his fault. It had been far too long since he’d hotwired a starfighter, and getting flight control off his ass had taken a lot more time than it should have. Now, all direct communications and lines to Olara had at least been disabled, but the Resistance could still pinpoint the craft’s location if they knew its comm frequency and radar signal, which they did. William was working on remedying that. Albeit much too slowly for his liking.
The splicer on the control panel flashed. William’s hands flew over the keyboard, pressing the advantage. Finally, a message popped up on his readout – encryption successful. He smiled to himself. I’d like to see Summer get through that. Okay, so they’d still be able to trace him to his last transmitted location, which would put them in the right system, but there were still two or three other inhabitable planets to check, not to mention a couple moons. With any luck, by the time they tried Niovis, William would be long gone.
There was some kind of irony to the fact that he was meeting Conway on the same planet he and his crew crashed on a few days ago. William gave it a fifty-fifty chance that it was a coincidence.
The starfighter lowered itself beneath the treeline, propulsors humming to a stop as it touched down. William glanced at his handheld, staring at the coordinates he already had memorised.
Well. No turning back now.
The forest was stupidly difficult to traverse. Thick roots came up to his waist, entangling and ensnaring with each other until they formed an impenetrable labyrinth of wood, forcing him to duck and squeeze his way through the undergrowth. There was a metaphor in there somewhere, William thought.
The coordinates led to a small clearing at the bottom of a shallow dip. Conway was already waiting, leaning against a sleek speeder bike with all the ease of a king lounging on his throne. A few Soldiers stood around, blasters tucked safely into their belts. Their black armbands bore the emblem of the rising sun in searing red thread. William took a deep breath and stepped into view.
They all looked up as he approached. Conway’s eyes glittered as he straightened, a grin spreading across his features. His suit clung to him in immaculately tailored lines.
“William Wisp,” he drawled. “Our very own boy wonder, home at last.”
Conway strode towards him, arms wide as if to embrace. William stopped a good few feet away and held that distance with an icy stare.
“Don’t get excited, Conway,” he snapped. “I’m here for your services. Nothing more.”
The grinning man tipped back his head and laughed. “Oh, William. See, that’s what I always liked about you. No authority left unquestioned, including me. That’s what makes you such a brilliant Soldier.”
“I am not,” William said through gritted teeth, “a Soldier anymore.”
“Mm,” said Conway in a noncommittal tone, “indeed.”
Then he turned and addressed the three Soldiers. “Everyone, I’m sure you all recognise our beloved Blue. William here made quite the name for himself during his time with us – I expect you’ve heard the stories.”
The Soldiers looked at him with a mix of curiosity, awe and resentment. William recognised one of them – the Fenian woman from Tatis, who’d handed him the holochip.
“Ah, yes. I believe you know Ona,” Conway smiled, beckoning her forward. She grinned at him.
“Yeah,” William replied flatly, meeting her gaze, “we met.”
“It was fun,” she purred, flashing razor-sharp fangs.
“I tased her.”
“I went easy on him.”
One of the other Soldiers piped up, a teenager around William’s age. “You’re the one that blew up the New Haven shipyard.”
The reverence in his voice made William’s stomach turn. Learning that his actions came close to killing Dakota had been one of the worst parts of joining the Resistance. He never slept quite as well after that.
“He is indeed, Jackson,” Conway answered, making up for William’s lack of reply. “And it seems he’s not quite finished with the Empire’s capital city.”
William glared at him. Conway returned the look with a placid smile. Fine, bastard. I’ll play your game.
William squared his shoulders, letting his voice carry. “I’m breaking into the New Haven supermax.”
Silence fell over the group. Even Ona looked stunned. Conway’s grin grew wider.
“What,” the teenager – Jackson – managed, eyes wide as moons.
The third Soldier, a hulking dark-skinned humanoid, shook his head. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“You’re crazy,” Ona said, voice almost awed with disbelief, “Mal made you out to be some kind of genius, but you’re just fucking crazy.”
“What is this for, anyway?” Jackson broke in, looking very pale. “Is it – what, is it a statement?”
William didn’t tear his eyes away from Conway. “It’s an extraction.”
They watched him, almost in admiration, as he outlined his plan. It was simple. Breakneck. Involved a big explosion. As Conway would have eloquently put it, one of Blue’s fuck-all escapades. He always loved it whenever William suggested one; he had an especially jagged kind of grin he reserved specifically for when they occurred. He was wearing that expression now, sharp and sickeningly gleeful.
“Any questions?” William finished, crossing his arms.
The third soldier raised his hand. “Yeah. What do we get out of this?”
The million-dollar question, William thought bitterly. He raised an eyebrow at Conway. “Well? Get it over with.”
Mallard Conway smiled like a snake.
***
“Shit,” said Dakota, “shit, shit, shit.”
The pilot was sat with his arms around his knees, tucked tightly against the far corner of the cell. Vyncent frowned at the shackles around his wrists, tapping them a couple times against the durasteel wall to test their strength. The clanging of metal on metal filled the small space. Dakota curled into himself even tighter.
“Keep it down in there,” growled the guard as he stalked past, clad in Unity blue. Vyncent bared his teeth at him.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Dakota sounded worse now, breathing coming heavy and uneven.
Vyncent watched as the pilot’s hands crawled up his own throat, gripping and pulling at the collar clamped around it, and when that refused to budge, moved to claw at his own raspberry hair. Dakota’s movements were jerky, uncontrolled, muscles spasming in whatever panic he was currently experiencing.
Looks like your getaway driver’s flippin’ out on you, Ram laughed, and Vyncent thought, shut up.
From his place against the far wall, Ashe clambered to his feet, the movement encumbered by the shackles, and began to approach the pilot.
“Dakota,” Ashe murmured, soft, “Kota. Hey.”
Vyncent watched Ashe comfort their friend, catching snippets of whispered reassurances – we’re gonna be okay know I’m here for you everything’s gonna be fine – and felt a pang twisting in his gut. He realised he was straining to hear, ears twitching with the effort. Get yourself together, he snapped, giving his head a rough shake.
Without him realising it, fear had snaked its way up around his ribs and into his heart. Shoving it down as hard as he possibly could, Vyncent began methodically working his way around the room.
Focus, he heard Strider hiss, think. Observe. Where are you? Where are the weaknesses, the chinks in the armour? Where best to sink your blades?
The cell was a standard fifteen by twenty foot room, constructed entirely of polished durasteel. There was a single window, undoubtedly made of blastproof transparisteel, providing them with a view into the courtyard below. The rest of the cell was bare, save for a slab of durasteel welded into the far wall to form a functional bench. The entrance to the cell itself was ray-shielded, remotely activated from a control room somewhere else in the building. The guards patrolling the hallway didn’t even have key cards. Vyncent shuffled into a kneeling position, peering out the window.
They looked to be about four stories up, with nothing below to break their fall except the unyielding concrete tiles. A few guards milled around between shifts, with a pair permanently posted at the front doors to the prison and another two at the iron gates. Every so often a delivery speeder pulled up outside, and after a few minutes of conversation with the guards, the gates would swing open soundlessly and the vehicle glided in. Vyncent watched as various boxes of supplies were unloaded and carried into the building, craning his neck to scan the walls. His search yielded not even so much as a pipe to grab onto, let alone scale down.
Fuck, he thought desperately, fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s not looking good, dad.
As he stood with his face pressed against the window, another speeder pulled in. A figure stepped out, dressed entirely in black with a hood pulled over their head. Vyncent watched as they unloaded what seemed to be a large tank of fuel. A few guards, passing through between shifts, wandered over to help with the cargo. The speeder itself made a quick three-point turn, peeling out the gates. Vyncent frowned. The driver’s hooded companion was still in the courtyard.
Suddenly there was a shout and two of the guards leapt back. The tank, it seemed, was leaking – sanguineous, tar-black liquid seeped over the gray tiles like an ink blot. Vyncent couldn’t help chuckling as the Unity soldiers scrambled away, exclaiming in disgust as oil stained their polished, department-issued boots.
It was then he noticed (too late, as always) that the hooded figure had made no move to clean up the mess. They stood at the edge of the slowly expanding midnight pool, so still they could have been a statue.
And then in one fluid movement, they ripped off their hoodie and let it fall to the ground. It sank into the oil slick, almost indistinguishable by colour. Vyncent pressed himself further into the glass.
The boy underneath was wearing a black tank top and a band around his upper arm. Even from this distance, Vyncent could make out the bloodred emblem printed on it – the rising sun. Liberty’s Soldiers. The guards were starting to scream now, hands flashing for their weapons. Vyncent opened his mouth, about to alert his friends.
But.
But.
There was something, cupped in the boy’s hands, almost cradled within them. Something just against his chest, in the pit of his ribcage. Something small, flickering, barely there, but it burned so, so bright. A single wisp of blue flame.
The boy glanced upwards, only for a second. It could have been a prayer.
And Vyncent froze, because he could swear – beneath all the shouting and threats and alarms starting to blare – that the boy in the courtyard looked a lot like someone he knew.
William Wisp let his fire fall.
And then.
Then.
***
The distraction was half a success – successful in the sense that it was a giant fucking explosion, and unsuccessful in the sense, that, well, it was a giant fucking explosion.
William stumbled to his feet, ears ringing louder than a church bell, and cursed at the scorching heat that seared at him even through the fireproof gel.
Stars and shit, he was so out of practice.
The front doors slammed open and a flood of soldiers poured into the courtyard, rifles raised. A few pushed their way to the front, white medic strips across their chests, and ran to help the guards who had been hit by the blast. None of them bothered going for the ones nearest William. They had been blown to kingdom come, bodies barely recognisable.
As his vision cleared, three figures materialised behind the miniature army that had assembled outside the building. The bars on their shoulders glinted gold in the firelight. Despite everything, William gaped.
How many fucking strings did the bastard pull, he wondered, half-awed, to get all three admirals here at the same time?
Jason King, Harlem Shade and Diane Gilbert stared at him through the haze of smoke. William couldn’t help smiling.
Oh, trust me, this is just the start. You’re all going to fucking burn.
A long-dry well within him was welling back to life, vicious delight streaking through him, black and hateful. He reached for the contraption clamped around his right wrist, laughter bubbling unbidden through his teeth. Against his will, some part of him always ached for this. Some part of him was made for this.
The gauntlet was made of sleek vantablack plastisteel, and released a gorgeous jet of cobalt flame. The crowd of Unity soldiers surged backwards as the fire lunged for them, flaring out in a brilliant twenty-foot cone.
A flash of light in an upper floor window, almost imperceptible amidst the flickering blue glow. The signal. Targets secured. Without hesitation, William threw himself at the wrought-iron fence.
His year-long hiatus, apparently, had done nothing to dull his muscle memory. In a matter of seconds, he was hauling himself over the rusted spikes, plasmafire nipping at his heels. There was the distant sound of glass shattering and the roar of an engine. Conway had once lectured him about climbing, after some slip-up at an outpost in the Middle Ring – the key is focus. Focus through your fear, through the noise, through the heat of shots landing all around you. You know what you’re doing. The rest doesn’t matter. If you’ve climbed one fence, you’ve climbed them all.
I’d like to see you pull this off, you pompous bitch, William thought, and jumped.
For a brief moment, he was in freefall. It felt familiar.
And then he was slamming full force into the front seat of a speeder going about eight times the speed limit, wincing as his shoulder rammed into the side. There was a searing rip of agony as his stitches tore. In the driver’s seat, Ona whooped, cackling, her face split in a fanged grin.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” She tossed her hair, shrieking with laughter. “You’re fucking crazy, Blue! You’re fucking insane!”
Head swimming with pain, William managed to shakily return her smile. “Floor it.”
And as if they weren’t already at breakneck speed, she did.
***
What, Ashe thought, sprinting down a durasteel corridor as fast as his legs could take him, the fuck?
His shoulder slammed into the wall as he skidded around a corner, footsteps thundering on the grated floor. His heart was pounding so hard against his ribs he swore he could taste blood. What the fuck?
“Move!” The burly dark-skinned man unleashed another round of plasmafire at the oncoming guards. “Come on, you Resistance fucks – move your ass!”
What the fuck is happening, Ashe thought desperately as he hurtled down the hallway. Beside him, Vyncent fell into perfect running form, ears back and eyes slitted with concentration. Dakota was a step behind them, gait uneven but unerringly fast. Their – rescuers? – brought up the rear, shooting wildly at the Unity soldiers on their heels. Ashe winced at the screeching sound of plasmafire ricocheting off of durasteel. The big man was holding his own alright, but the other one, who from Ashe’s brief glimpse looked not much older than them, was somehow managing to fuck up cover fire.
He threw an annoyed glance over his shoulder. The teen was firing in sporadic bursts, rifle held at arms length as if he was afraid it was going to bite him. His shots scorched the walls on either side and sometimes even grazed the ceiling, but the guards advanced almost unscathed.
Ashe was currently in the worst situation of his life and honestly scared out of his mind, but god damn it, his parents didn’t raise no bitch.
His boots scraped against the metal grating as he snapped into a 180, briefly suspended as he fought his own momentum. And then he was moving again, dodging stray shots from the guards, and then he was sprinting up to the kid and wrenching the gun out of his hands.
“Where the fuck did you learn to shoot? The Imperial Academy?” Ashe snarled, and opened fire.
The rifle was an MK-556 – a fully automatic killing machine recently removed from legal circulation due to ethics-related Imperial legislation, and it sang in his hands. The big guy let out a low whistle as blue-clad soldiers began to drop. Ashe grinned, glancing at him.
A flash of bright red caught his eye. His finger stilled on the trigger.
A blazing half-sun stared back at him.
All the fucking stars above, Ashe thought, what the fuck is happening?
“Don’t freeze, kid,” growled the Soldier, and there was no choice but to keep shooting.
***
William is one of Liberty’s Soldiers.
The thought banged around in Vyncent’s mind as he tore down flight after flight of stairs, practically leaping off walls to keep his momentum around corners.
It didn’t make sense. Nothing about it made sense. He started rearranging the thought in his head, bursting through a set of double doors into another durasteel hallway.
William is working with Liberty’s Soldiers. The Resistance is working with Liberty’s Soldiers?
No, no, no. Vyncent dove to the floor to avoid a burst of plasmafire, body instinctively tucking into a roll. There was a stutter of returning fire, and he glimpsed Imperials crumpling to the ground – Ashe, it had to be, no one else had aim like that. He found his feet and ran.
William is PRETENDING to work with Liberty’s Soldiers in order to save us.
That one made a lot more sense – he plowed straight through a guard and barrelled on – and honestly sounded pretty on-brand for him. William had a tendency to take extreme measures. He skidded around a corner and found himself staring down a dead end.
Stars, he imagined Strider groaning, you’re so fucked.
Shut up shut up shut up, he hissed, pressing himself against the wall for cover. Dakota swung around the corner and immediately barked out a curse, scrambling to avoid streaks of plasma. Vyncent noted with relief that the panic previously scrawled across his features had sharpened into intense focus.
One of the Soldiers, a sandy-blonde teen who looked far too scared to be entrusted with their safety, rounded the corner, tripping over his own feet in haste. Vyncent bared his teeth at him.
“Okay, geniuses,” he growled, “you got us here. Where the fuck do we go now?”
Beside him, Dakota suddenly tensed. “Fucking LS,” he breathed, his posture coiling into attack stance.
The redhead’s pupils had shrunk to pinpoints, gaze fixed on the teen’s black armband. His fingers curled into fists, all tension and sinew. The Soldier shrank back.
“Don’t do this now,” Vyncent snapped, elbowing him hard in the side.
“Fucking LS,” Dakota snarled, but at least he no longer looked like he was about to pounce.
Ashe and the other Soldier thundered around the corner, rifles spitting rattle after rattle of plasmafire. Dakota and Vyncent whipped around to face them.
“Great job, assholes,” Dakota glared at the burly Soldier, “we’re cornered. The fuck do we do now?”
Scorching heat streaked past them as shots embedded themselves into the durasteel. The second Soldier hefted his gun and completely destroyed the nearest window.
“Speeder’s outside.” He gestured.
“Do you know that for sure or are you just hoping?” Ashe asked, but Vyncent was already diving through the opening.
He caught a glimpse of the courtyard below him, wreathed in roaring blue flame and dotted with dead Imperials. There were dozens of Unity soldiers gathered admist the inferno, opening a storm of fire at something that wasn’t him.
Vyncent briefly spotted a black-clad figure atop the fence, right before something snatched him out of the air.
***
“Fucking LS,” Dakota snarled, pinned to his seat by the sheer g-force generated by the speeder tearing through New Haven.
In the front seat, the hulking Soldier flashed him an unimpressed look. The teenager twisted around to smirk at him.
“That’s a funny way of pronouncing ‘Thank you for saving our sorry asses,’” he snarked, barely audible over the roaring wind.
“Ashe had to take your gun because you can’t shoot for shit,” Dakota stated bluntly.
Beside him, Ashe nodded. “Yeah, you couldn’t aim to save your life, man.”
“It was kind of embarrassing,” Vyncent added.
The blonde Soldier flushed and turned back around, muttering under his breath. Dakota hissed as the speeder banked, narrowly weaving past another towering skyscraper. As if sensing his discomfort, the Soldier slammed on the gas, pretty much kissing the edges of buildings as they shot across the skyline.
“Fucking – let me drive,” Dakota bit out, hands fisted in the leather seat.
The big man snorted. “No can do, Red,” He called over his shoulder, “The way you’re glaring at me, I wouldn’t be surprised if you flew us straight into a wall.”
The speeder tore past another skyscraper, skimming the windows so closely they heard the glass crack.
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Dakota yelled back, clinging to his seatbelt to avoid being thrown out completely.
The Soldiers laughed. Dakota wanted to claw their faces off.
The speeder sped onwards, snaking through the cityscape, gradually dropping to a lower altitude as they reached the less reputable districts. Dakota could see Vyncent and Ashe shrink back from the towering structures of eroding concrete and rusted durasteel, a far cry from the plastisteel and glass monoliths that made up central New Haven.
They finally slowed to a stop a few minutes later, pulling up alongside a landing pad about ten stories up. Dakota stared at the pad nervously as they approached, eyeing the cracks spiderwebbed through the concrete. It must have been used for transporting industrial cargo at some point, but the landing pad, along with the building it was attached to, had long fallen into disuse. There was only one other ship parked, a sleek vantablack assault transport with the LS rising sun emblazoned across its side.
The sun was setting below the skyline as they disembarked. The curve of the blood-orange star arced over the LS gunship, creating a disconcerting mirror image and bathing the landing pad in rich ochre light.
A cool breeze winded its way through the buildings. For a second it was silent as the five of them stood on the landing pad, catching their breath.
Then the high-pitched whine of an overworked speeder engine reached their ears as a second vehicle pulled up at an even more ridiculous speed, drifting a good few feet before slowing to a stop. A Fenian woman with pale pink hair and a fanged grin hopped out of the driver’s seat, followed shortly by –
“WILLIAM!” Dakota blurted, feet moving before he could help it.
The navigator looked…bad, stumbling onto the landing pad with ash matting his hair and smoke clinging to his frame. There were various smears of blood across his hands and face. He was hurriedly tugging on his hoodie, and looked up a second before Dakota collided with him.
They went crashing to the ground, drawing a yelp from William. Dakota buried his face in his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie even as his muscles protested loudly.
There was a moment of cautious silence before William exhaled, chest falling slightly beneath Dakota’s crushing embrace. He felt a hand settle gently in his hair.
“I guess you’re not mad at me anymore, then?”
Stars, Dakota had missed his voice. How long had it been since they’d last interacted – it had to have been, like, five days by now. Five days was far too long to be yelled at by Winters without William there to Be Calm And Quiet. Dakota clung on a little tighter.
“I’m still mad at you,” he mumbled, the effect lessened by the muffle of William’s hoodie. “I’m gonna kick your ass in a second. After this.”
There was a slight vibration under Dakota’s cheek as William huffed out a laugh. Then he hissed in a breath.
“Uh,” the navigator managed, shifting a little, “Look, man, love you too, but you’re kind of squeezing my stitches. Which I tore. So.”
Dakota sprang back immediately, brow creasing as he stared at his friend. William sat up gingerly, quickly zipping up his hoodie before flashing him a semi-convincing smile.
There were footsteps as Ashe’s jeans came into view. “Holy shit, dude. What are you doing here?”
William shrugged, accepting Ashe’s hand and getting to his feet. “Someone had to rescue you.”
“Are you okay?” Dakota looked his friend up and down, assessing for injuries. “You shouldn’t have come, you should have let Mynerva send someone.”
William arched an amused eyebrow. “You saying I can’t handle myself?”
“Nooooo,” Dakota protested, “but, like, it’s New Haven. It’s dangerous. It’s –”
The memory of sapphire flames engulfing the prison courtyard hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of his lungs. His fear, momentarily forgotten in the action, seeped through his skin.
“It’s Blue,” he said suddenly, quickly, panic leaking into his voice. “They’re here. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of them, they were the one who blew up the shipyard, but they stopped – they’re supposed to be dead, or gone, I don’t know, but that was – it was definitely them, and if Blue’s here then we’re all in danger.”
There was a look in William’s eyes Dakota couldn’t place. “You’re not in danger,” he said quietly.
Behind them, Vyncent asked, “Why are you with the Soldiers?”
An uncertain silence enveloped them as William’s expression shuttered. Dakota sat back on his heels, waiting patiently for his explanation. The navigator was silent for a long moment, jaw working. Dakota felt a sudden rush of affection – William always overthought everything, was so afraid of saying something wrong or incorrect, as if it could ever push Dakota away.
“I –” he started, but was cut off by the distant wailing of sirens.
“That’s our cue,” interrupted the burly Soldier, hefting his rifle. “C’mon, kid.”
The teenager flashed Dakota a scowl and crossed the landing pad to the LS gunship. William whipped around quickly, springing back into action.
“I sent out a distress signal,” he explained, pulling out his handheld, “a Resistance pickup should be approaching our location. Keep low, and they’ll get to you before the Imperial guard.”
“Did you get un-grounded?” Dakota asked. Winters wasn’t usually the forgiving type, but maybe Tide had a change of heart or something.
“...not exactly.” William tucked his handheld away. “Okay. Approximately two minutes until the Resistance arrives. When you get back to Olara, make sure you check in with the medbay before going back into the field. A recovery mission needs to be launched for the Winnebago, you’re gonna have to pester Winters about that. Keep updated about those warrants, and don’t take any yellow-class missions until they’ve been removed from high priority. Oh, and when your ride gets here, double-check they’ve cloaked their signal properly, the Resistance is generally pretty good at that but the Imperials have been upgrading their splicers –”
“Wait,” Vyncent interrupted, vocalising everyone’s confusion. “Why are you telling us all this? You can do it yourself, you’re our navigator.”
William took a deep breath, and for the first time made proper eye contact with Dakota. Dakota tilted his head, frowning. William looked….scared.
“I’m not coming,” he said, and the world fell to pieces.
***
“What do we get out of this?”
Williams sighed, shooting Conway a flat stare. “Well? Get it over with.”
“We get to humiliate the Empire at the heart of their home territory.” Conway paused, his eyes slitting dangerously. “And we get our darling Blue back.”
The world reeled for a second. William felt his limbs locking up, his whole body freezing in place. “What?”
“An attack on the New Haven supermax?” Conway shook his head, letting out a low whistle. “A risky venture, William, and one that comes at a steep cost. Luckily for you, you more than make up for the value.”
William let out a laugh. It sounded dead. “You’re…buying me.”
“I would argue that you sold yourself,” Conway countered, looking for all the world like the cat who got the cream. “You’re welcome to walk away from this deal, if the price is too great.”
William thought of bright red hair, of shy smiles and violet eyes. He sucked in a breath, steeling himself.
“So, if you do this for me…I have to return to Liberty’s Soldiers.” Somehow, his voice managed not to shake. “You know that doesn’t guarantee I’ll actually do anything for you.”
“I only ask that you come with us, William.” The poorly disguised delight in Conway’s voice made William bristle. “The rest will follow in time. I can be very persuasive, you know.”
I know, William screamed, I know. God, I fucking know. Out loud he said, “Fine. Let’s move.”
And with that, he sold his soul to the devil. He could practically smell petrol.
His only thought was, Dakota’s definitely never forgiving me after this.
***
He knew it. He fucking knew it.
Vyncent might not be as observant or insightful as his father’s many friends wished he was, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t naive. He knew, the second William stepped off that speeder, avoiding eye contact and hurriedly pulling on his hoodie to hide the LS armband, that he wasn’t coming home.
The silence was filled with spiderweb cracks.
“What?” Ashe said, voice soft.
“What?” Dakota blurted, louder.
“I’m sorry,” William began, his voice shaded with desperation, but he was cut off.
“Hey, kid.” The Soldier beckoned with a jerk of his head. “You coming or what?”
“You’re going with the Soldiers?” Dakota’s voice was pitched with hysteria. William visibly cringed.
“Dakota, I –” The navigator looked to Vyncent, but whatever reassurance he was searching for, he found none of it in his face. Vyncent stared, unyielding.
“Alright, time to go,” snapped the Soldier, laying a heavy hand on William’s shoulder. The other boy didn’t flinch, but tensed minutely.
“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HIM!” Dakota shot across the landing pad, body-slamming the man so hard he reeled backwards a good few feet.
“Dakota, I’m sorry,” William repeated, following after him like a kicked dog. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I have to go.”
Ashe took a step towards them, uncertainty twisting his face. “Where are you going?”
“He’s going with them,” Vyncent said. It came out cold.
“Vynce, please,” William choked out, expression raw, “I swear, I’m not – I don’t have any choice, you don’t understand –”
Traitor, clamoured the voices, traitor, sneered the Greats. Traitor, Vyncent thought, traitor traitor traitor traitor.
“Don’t go,” Dakota blurted suddenly, grabbing William’s hands. “Don’t go, okay? I’m not mad at you, I was lying about that, we’re still friends, okay? So just – don’t go.”
William looked down at Dakota’s hands clasping his, then back up at the pilot’s face. “I can’t,” he whispered.
Dakota’s expression shattered like glass. William looked as if the shards were tearing him to shreds.
The sting of tears suddenly pricked at the back of Vyncent’s eyes and he was forced to look away, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. When he turned back, William was gently prising himself free of the redhead’s grip.
“I’m sorry,” he said, over and over, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
And then he was boarding the LS ship, too much of a fucking coward to risk a glance back. And then he was gone.
Dakota stood at the very edge of the landing pad and screamed after them until his voice gave out, collapsing to the concrete, clawing at his own arms. Ashe started towards him, then seemed to come to the realisation that he couldn’t save Dakota from this. That he’d been left too. The sharpshooter looked helplessly at Vyncent, an unending sadness in his eyes.
Vyncent crossed his arms and counted the seconds until their pickup came. He met Ashe’s gaze with a blank stare. He couldn’t have offered comfort if he tried.
The sound of Resistance engines were getting closer and closer, and yet the three of them had never been farther from home.