Chapter Text
The rest of the fleet watched as Aradia departed, flying off into the unknown on vague terms. They dispersed, awaiting instruction. Their mission didn’t require them to leave yet, so they waited.
Dimitri paced in slow loops around his helmet like it had personally offended him. Mordecai sat on a supply crate, chewing on a protein bar and scowling at the floor. Zahara leaned against a bulkhead with her arms crossed and jaw clenched tight. Zahara kept looking at the empty bay where Carinae usually sits, expecting it to creak open and for Aradia to return. To change her mind. Yet they remained shut and sealed, her choice unwavering.
“She didn’t even hesitate,” Mordecai said eventually. “You all saw that, right?”
Dimitri stopped pacing. “Because she’s insane.”
“She’s prepared,” Roman corrected, not looking up from his datapad.
“Prepared?” Dimitri echoed. “She looked like she hadn’t slept. She was swimming in ship shit.”
Zahara didn’t move. “She wanted it.”
Mordecai snorted. “That’s what scares me.”
A moment passed. Then two. Zahara finally spoke. “Do you think Lina did it to test her?”
“No,” Roman said immediately. Then, quieter: “I think she wanted her out of the way.” That earned him a few looks. He shrugged, still tapping through mission data. “You don’t pull your strongest pilot unless you’re proving a point.”
“She isn’t our strongest,” Lina’s voice cut in. The group turned. The new Captain stood just a few feet away — uniform crisp, braid coiled high, smile serene and knife-sharp. “Each of you has a different strength,” she continued. “And I’m not in the business of playing favorites.”
“Why her then? Specifically?” asked Dimitri. For once, there wasn’t a single hint of sarcasm or comedy in his voice. He was stern. Angry. Captain Morosi’s smile didn’t move. She looked at Dimitri like she was deciding whether to bother responding.
“Suit up, Officers. Your mission begins in twenty minutes.” As she left, the fleet grew closer. They didn’t want any more interruptions.
“My theory? Star is on thin ice. I think this is a final test to see if she’s worth keeping on as a pilot or demoting her. Or worse,” Mordecai told them, his voice just above a whisper. Zahara scoffed.
“That’s ridiculous, she’s practically been our leader on these past few missions. And every one has been successful,” she said.
Mordecai shrugged. “Maybe this has something to do with her crush on Daddy Pierce,” Dimitri theorized.
“That’s inappropriate and completely illogical, even coming from you,” Roman scolded. “The only reason we know about her obsession with our former Captain is because she told us personally. He doesn’t know, and Morosi surely doesn’t know.”
“Just kinda crazy she didn’t explain Star’s mission. Like, at all. It just feels like we aren’t allowed to ask questions anymore,” Mordecai sighed. He shrugged and stood up, shoving the balled up wrapper of his snack into his jacket pocket.
“And what about our mission? This isn’t protocol,” Zahara said, frowning. “We shouldn’t even be flying near this sector.”
Roman knelt down to place his datapad back into his bag. “There’s no protocol in space. Just expectation and punishment.”
“That’s bleak, even for you,” Mordecai muttered. Roman stood up and looked directly at Mordecai, eyes cool. “My father used to say that to me before every training exam. I assumed it applied here, too.”
Silence.
Zahara tilted her head. “Your father’s not flying this ship.”
A pause. “No,” Roman said quietly. “But I am.”
They disperse, all loading onto their respective ships and completing their pre-flight inspections.
“Ace signing on.”
“Valentine present.”
“Phoenix on air.”
There was a pause. The silence filled their comms with a slight static. They waited.
“Nosebleed signing on.”
And they were gone.