Chapter Text
Prologue — Mourning A Wedding And Celebrating A Funeral
“First question: What is the soul? Easy enough to answer: a soul is the one thing every person has. Second question: What qualifies as a person? Even easier to answer: Anybody with a soul.”
-Father Y, The Empty-Room Sermons
Ariana Baltimore looked out over the Atlantic Ocean, although the morning fog was so thick she couldn't even see the horizon. It was, thankfully, not the tourist season, or else the Wildwood beach would be packed with sunbathers and beach volleyballers, and for an event like this, it's very difficult to maintain an appropriate level of austerity when children are throwing wads of sand at one another within earshot.
She and her wife, Marisol Spacebreather Beam, stood on a rocky section of the beach together. Being physically affectionate was second nature for them, and they found it difficult to be near one another and not be touching, but this day was always a bit somber for them, so the most that they felt was appropriate was having their arms linked, which was quite a sight to behold given that Baltimore was approximately a full foot taller than her wife. Their former army sergeant, and current boss at the event planning business they'd started together, Anika Flax, stood several feet away, as stoic as ever.
Soon, they would be joined by the others who had been there with them the first time around. Baltimore and Beam both had sisters coming. Alicia Baltimore was, as one might imagine, Ariana's biological sister. Pilar Spacebreather was, as one almost certainly would not imagine, Beam's sister through an obscure pirate practice of adopting new surnames based on outlandish feats, and they became sisters after they both survived brief exposure to the vacuum of space. However, as this was quite an unusual arrangement, they usually just left it at “sister” when talking with strangers and allowed their imaginations to fill in the blanks.
Alicia and Pilar would be joined by several other members of the pirate crew on which almost all of the attendees had, at one time, served together. Pilar's wife, Captain Ariadne, and her younger sister (in the traditional sense) Sasha Deathsbane had, of course, been present at the event they were here to commemorate.
Sasha had also brought along her girlfriend of several years, Sweettalk, and their closest friend, Ghostrunner, who had not been there in person, but who had come for moral support, and who had become quite close with several of the others in attendance.
These young women would arrive in minutes, greeting their loved ones with tearful hugs and very little smalltalk. Here to preside over the occasion was one of the Sovereigns of the Homeworld Republic, Peace Upendo, who arrived shortly afterwards. Upendo, a leader popular enough that her constituents had overwhelmingly elected her to a second term two years previously, had not been physically present at the original event, but she was deeply involved in it, and since this gathering was technically a state secret that only those involved were supposed to know about, it seemed only appropriate that she be in attendance.
The group of women gathered on the beach stood together in a tight cluster, and listened as Upendo began her speech.
“My dear friends,” she began, “it is the sixth time we've gathered in this place, to mark the anniversary of the death of Susan Weaver and the end of her plans to conquer the galaxy. The universe is in debt to you for the service you performed on that day. I only wish my father could be alive to see the paradise the Earth has become.”
They were gathered on this particular beach because it was the place where they had scattered Imperator Weaver's ashes six years previously, on the first anniversary of her death. This was, of course, unknown to the general public. The Sovereigns feared that, were it known, it would become a pilgrimage site for Weaver Loyalists. This is also why this commemoration was kept under wraps; Weaver's followers were only able to be enthralled by the light because they were already fanatical and violent, and if this was a public event, everyone involved in Weaver's downfall would be at risk of assassination.
“I'll try to keep my statements brief,” Upendo continued. “As much as the end of the Weaver Regime was a good thing, I know the memories surrounding it can be painful, and I'm sure no one here is eager to revisit them in depth. To that end, I'll simply voice how pleased I am, every year, to see all of you here again, thriving and growing, building your new careers and your new families.”
She looked at Ariadne and Spacebreather pointedly.
“Even though I don't officially know what some of you do for a living,” she continued, “it is my understanding that you have all been doing excellent work in our system, this past year more than ever. I look forward to not hearing about whatever adventure you find yourselves in next.”
She took out a handful of incense sticks and handed one to each of the women in the circle. Spacebreather took out a lighter and silently lit each of them.
“All I'll ask of you before we part ways is that we take a moment to pray for—” it was at this moment that she noticed Ariadne rolling her eyes, “—or perhaps just reflect on the monsters we've slain, the loved ones we've lost, and the beautiful future those sacrifices have bought us.”
The circle bowed their heads and, as instructed, considered this. They had all slain enough monsters and said goodbye to enough loved ones for a lifetime. Alicia sighed. Thinking about the future always humbled her, much more so than her younger sister or her friends on the crew.
At the end of the prayer— or, in Ariadne's case, the moment of reflection— Peace concluded the ceremonies and encouraged the circle to be clear of the beach before the first guests showed up.
“I wish you'd join us,” Beam said. “After all we've been through, you'd think we could break bread, or at least knock a few back.”
“She doesn't drink,” Baltimore pointed out.
“I didn't say 'a few' had to have alcohol, she could knock back a few ginger ales. Unless ginger ale is illegal and nobody told me,” Beam replied, then turned very seriously to Peace and asked, “wait, you would've told me if you made ginger ale illegal, right?”
“It's best if I don't,” Peace sighed, clearly wishing she could. “If I'm recognized, people will ask questions, and we can't have anyone knowing about this or you'll all be in danger.”
“Not to mention,” Ariadne added with a smirk, “she can't risk being seen with us pirates more than she needs to.”
Peace looked uneasy, but Ariadne wasn't wrong. She might have risked a small meal with the group soon after the fall of the Weaver Regime, but since Ariadne had revealed herself to the system, it had become too big a risk for someone of her stature to be publicly associated with a wanted criminal.
“Maybe next year, sugar,” Ariadne joked, knowing that Peace would never agree to join them.
“Indeed,” Peace said, and smiled. She said her goodbyes and called for a secure teleport back to the Sovereign's Mansion, and waved to them as she disappeared in a flash of light.
“So, those of us who are actually any fun,” Sweettalk said, “we going to a bar? Club? What's the plan?”
“What club do you think is open this early in the morning?” Sasha asked.
“We're going to a diner,” Baltimore said, “I'm too old to go to a club and if I'm too old then Alicia and Flax are definitely too old.”
Alicia and Flax exchanged a glance. Flax pressed a finger to her lips and her eyes said “don't say a word.” Alicia grinned. As far as they knew, nobody saw this exchange.
“There's a place on the boardwalk that has the most amazing Monte Cristo sandwich I've ever eaten, and that's saying something,” Beam said, “you guys will love it.” She started walking up the beach to the boardwalk and her companions followed suit.
“We're not gonna go out for drinks?” Sweettalk asked, “come on, this is the first shore leave we've had since Ghostrunner turned 18. She's finally allowed to come with us to the bar and you're not gonna take her? You don't want to see what this quiet girl is like when we put enough liquor in her to turn her into a loudmouth?”
“No, I am already very aware of what it's like to spend time with a loudmouth,” Baltimore made direct eye contact with Sweettalk.
“Some of us have two kids at home and if we don't get home early their grandmoms will spoil them rotten,” Beam said, “if you girls want to paint the town red after breakfast, be my guest, but I think my days of being drunk in New Jersey are over.”
“Ari? Spacebreather?” Sweettalk asked. “You gotta tell me you're coming out.”
“As much as we'd love to,” Spacebreather said, “my wife and I have so few opportunities to have a romantic evening out, so obviously once our date night begins, I will not be hearing word one from any of you until we arrive back at the Baltimores' for the night. Clear?”
Sweettalk sighed. “Guess it'll just be the three of us. That's fine, I did say 'everybody who's actually fun.'”
Ghostrunner grinned. If she had anything to say about it, it would definitely not just be the three of them.
***
The police presence on the block surrounding the largest, most ornate Catholic church in Lohnausfall had never been more concentrated or more heavily armed than they were on this particular day. They were prepared for war. Nobody would come within a half mile of the church. Not today.
Not on the day Big Top Rizzo's daughter was to be married.
Of course, in Lohnausfall, the police were little more than private security for Big Top's criminal operation, and today, for the first time in years, the whole extended family would be in one building. There had been some threats against the church, and Big Top had more than his share of enemies, but of course, a thorough search made it clear there these threats were less than credible. The wedding would proceed unimpeded.
On the steps outside the church, the cheering Rizzo family watched as the bride and groom got into the limousine at the front of a long procession of cars. They were all classic cars, rolling on actual tires instead of hovering, from Big Top's collection. He was old school, and the cars were very expensive, and he felt there was no better occasion to flaunt his wealth than his eldest daughter Amelia's wedding.
The rest of the extended Rizzo family came down the steps to get into Big Top's many chauffeured vehicles, but there was one slight hold-up. The maid of honor, Big Top's second-youngest daughter Nicoletta “Nicks” Rizzo, stumbled near the bottom of the steps and fell down two stairs to the pavement. She'd scraped her knee and the palm of her hand catching herself, and badly twisted her ankle.
“Nicky, baby,” Big Top asked, “What happened?”
Nicks rubbed her ankle, wincing in pain. “My heel broke, Pa.”
“Can you walk on it?” He asked.
She made a cursory effort to stand up, but yelped in pain. It was clear she wouldn't be walking anywhere without assistance.
“Just gimme a minute, I'll— ah!” She gasped in pain again as she tried to put weight on her twisted ankle. Her father sighed.
“Rico, get her to the Urgent Care,” Big Top told one of his enforcers, “I'll tell Amelia what happened when we get to the banquet hall.”
Rico propped her up on his shoulder and brought her into a car. Nicks looked heartbroken to miss her sister's wedding. They drove off in the opposite direction of the wedding motorcade.
“Thanks, Rico,” Nicks said, “I don't know what I'd have done without you.”
“Well I wasn't about to leave you on the pavement,” Rico said and laughed warmly.
“Oh, not for that,” Nicks smirked.
“What for, Ms. Nicky?” Rico asked, not thinking much of the question.
“For your last job,” Nicks said. “You worked for the Connellys, right?”
“What does that—” Rico was confused as to why having previously worked for a rival gang was cause for thanks.
Nicks pulled the concealed weapon, which she'd stolen from Rico's personal gun locker the previous night, from its holster under her skirt. “Stop the car now.”
Rico was taken off-guard and complied.
“Now be a dear,” Nicks said, “and honk the horn.”
Rico hesitated.
“Do it or I'll paint the windshield with your brains,” Nicks growled.
Rico honked the horn which, unbeknownst to him, Nicks had rigged to a detonator the night before, shortly after stealing the button.
A mile away, a long stretch of the city's street blew sky high and took Big Top Rizzo, his collection of vintage cars, and his entire extended family with it.
“Thank you, Rico,” Nicks said coldly, “and goodbye, Rico.”
Before he had a chance to react, Nicks pulled the trigger and put a round of plasma into the side of his head.
She took a deep breath and composed herself as she waited for the sound of sirens to creep up behind their car, at which point she broke into convincing sobs and started beating on the passenger-side window and loudly crying for help.
The officers forced the door and she spilled out onto the street, wailing as dramatically as she could manage.
“W—we got a f— a few blocks away from the ch— the church and he p— he pulled a gun on me,” she sobbed, “he honked the horn and pulled a gun and then the ground shook and he dropped it so I— so I— so I—”
The officers looked into the car and saw Rico's body and understood what she was trying to say she'd done.
“Is that—” One of the officers asked.
“Frederico Berton,” the other finished. “Jimmy Connely's old capo.”
“Looks like he was on better terms with his old boss than we thought,” he said, “looks like we got our bomber.”
Nicks convincingly looked surprised. “Bomber? Wh—”
The officer kneeled down. “Ms. Rizzo, I'm sorry, but your father… your family…”
Nicks managed to fake a moment of horrified realization and let out a pained wail that would stick with both officers, who had no reason to suspect it was anything but real, for the rest of their lives.
She appeared distraught, but in reality, it was the happiest she'd ever been. She'd just gotten away with mass-murder and pinned it on a dead man. Now, the law would have no reason to keep her full inheritance from her.
***
The first bar of the night was Ghostrunner's choice— her eighteenth birthday was three months ago, but this was the first time she'd been on a planet where eighteen-year-olds were legally allowed to drink since then— and she'd chosen a small, divey gay bar at the far end of the boardwalk.
Sasha and Sweettalk were very confused, as they'd had to walk past four trendy nightclubs in order to get to this one, but they'd have time to visit all of these as the night went on, and after all, it was Ghostrunner's big night, so they didn't question it.
They walked into the bar and immediately realized why Ghostrunner had chosen this bar in particular.
“Ahhhh, crap,” Alicia said from her corner booth where she sat next to Flax.
A lady at the bar wearing a hood and holding a drink perked up at Alicia's exclamation. Something about her seemed strange to Ghostrunner.
“How,” Flax asked, to the confusion of the beautiful woman draped around her shoulders, “did you find us?”