Carolina awoke to a fierce headache that sent throbbing waves of pain bouncing off her skull. The unwelcome presence of blurred vision told her she had lost consciousness forcefully and unpleasantly. It wasn't anything she hadn't experienced before, as sustaining injury was an occupational hazard of being part of a supersoldier military program. But right now her usual instinct to find some reserve of focus was being absolutely smothered and it was all she could do to bear it.

After a good minute or two, she was able to register that she was lying on a cold surface, with her neck tilted back at an uncomfortable angle thanks to her bulky armour. She sat up slowly with a groan and almost wished she had stayed still; the dull throbbing in the back of her head was immediately replaced by a sharp spike driving itself through her skull. She hunched herself forward, breathing short gasps through clenched teeth. She saw her breath forming in the air and only then realized that her face was cold.

"I can't say this was exactly what I had in mind when I told you to come with me."

Carolina stiffened, not because the voice startled her, but because she recognized who it belonged to. One armoured hand instinctively reached to her hip for a pistol that wasn't there. She turned towards the voice, wincing with some annoyance at her protesting muscles. The rest of her body didn't hurt as much as her head did, but that wasn't really saying much.

Tex was sitting against a stone wall, watching her with that show of indifference that Carolina always found so infuriating. She had placed herself far enough so that the other Freelancer wouldn't be able to get up and reach her without warning. And it wasn't like Carolina was in any condition to take her on again right now.

Not for the first time, Carolina wondered how it was that Tex was always able to have everyone right where she wanted them. "Where the hell am I?" she demanded, deciding to settle for verbal hostility for the time being.

Tex shrugged. "I'd tell you if I knew. Unfortunately, I didn't get a good look when Maine tossed us over the cliff. I'd have picked somewhere more cozy but the storm was getting bad. This was the best I could do, sorry."

She sounded way too casual considering everything that had happened, and it was starting to get on Carolina's nerves. It didn't help her mood that her body was constantly reminding her that everything hurt. But as she was about to snap another angry response, Tex's last words sank in. Maine. I can't believe it.

Carolina didn't like going down during a mission, but having her teammates pull her to safety was something she could live with. But having Tex save her of all people was not. And because thinking about anything more complicated than right here, right now was bound to make her throw up, she decided not to start figuring out how she ended up in some cave at the bottom of a cliff with only her least favourite Freelancer for company. "And at what point did you stop having a choice?" she grunted. "Was it when you went rogue and attacked the ship?"

"I did what I had to," Tex replied flatly. "There's a lot you need to catch up on."

The look on Carolina's face told her that she didn't like this answer at all. Tex wondered if she was thinking about their fight right before the Invention crash-landed. Carolina had wanted that opportunity for so long, Tex could always tell. But now that it became clear that the situation was far, far worse than either of them could have predicted, there was no more time for petty rivalries. She had to make it clear to Carolina why she had acted against the Director.

Carolina frowned, remembering something. "Why did York go with you?"she asked. She certainly looked troubled by the recollection, and Tex seized the opportunity.

"Because I knew I could trust him. He looks out for his own."

Carolina straightened angrily. "'Looks out for his own'? I don't know who you think you are, Texas, but you are not one of us. You show up when the Director has a job for you, then at the end of the mission you're gone again. You don't work as a team with the Freelancers, or even talk to them. You killed Connie—"

"I'm sorry."

"What?" Carolina faltered. It was the second time Tex had used the word, but this time she sounded like she meant it.

Slowly, Tex pulled something out from her armour's storage unit and tossed it over. Carolina caught it deftly and turned it over in her hands. It was a dog tag with C.T.'s name stenciled into its centre. She looked up, anger momentarily overtaken by curiosity.

"You want to know why I did all this," Tex said quietly. "It was C.T. She figured out the truth behind Project Freelancer. That's why she went rogue." She stood up and walked over to Carolina, who was staring at the dog tag as if it was all that made sense to her anymore. "Can you walk?"

Carolina put the dog tag away. Without her helmet, the cold was starting to get to her. "I'm sure as hell not staying here."

"Good. Let's get going. I'll explain on the way, we've got a long trip ahead of us." Tex held out a hand.

Carolina ignored the offered hand and got up on her own. She vision swam a little and she winced as the stabbing knives in her head reminded her again that they were still there. "Then start walking," she grunted, hoping Tex couldn't hear the pain in her voice.

The two Freelancers marched out of their dismal shelter in silence. The blizzard had stopped a while ago, but the snow had piled up to knee level, and they were sure to leave footprints. Better to get clear of the area before anyone started looking for them. Tex hoped that they would be able to link up with York sometime soon. Maybe his presence would take the edge off Carolina's suspicions, just a little. Reassure her that they were doing the right thing.

But are we doing the right thing? None of us have been for a long time now. We've put ourselves into a rut where the only way to get back to being good means digging our way out and burying some of our old friends in the process.

Tex shook her head. I'll get them out. Whoever I can persuade. She had Carolina on her side, for the time being, at least. That was something. The other Freelancers should be easy by comparison. I hope there's still time. I can't be too late again.

···

From an optimistic point of view, the damage wasn't as bad as it could have been. Granted, the situation did look pretty bad when Texas was running amok, elusive as the wind and shooting everything that moved. And that was before the Mother of Invention's missiles fired on itself and the artificial gravity turned off in most of the ship. If anything, it was a miracle that the ship was still in one piece after the crash.

But that was about as far as the good news went. The Invention was a lot less durable underneath the hull, and even the best Charon-class frigates weren't well-suited to surviving orbital crash-landings. And this particular ship, well, ONI informed Agent Florida that it was built on the wrong side of 2500. He had a feeling that the ancient ship had finally broken its last leg. It probably wasn't going anywhere even if a good chunk of its crew hadn't been killed on impact.

So as the Freelancer made his way down the unlit corridors, he wondered to himself why he was seeing technicians trying to repair whatever mess lay behind the cracked walls. Surely the Director wasn't trying to get the Invention off the ground? They simply didn't have the resources for it. Unless he had other plans for the survivors after he sent off Florida on his mission, in which case he would have to notify one of the other Freelancers that was here on ONI's orders.

A few of the techs were glancing surreptitiously at him as he walked past, and he noticed one or two hands twitching towards the pistols that, until earlier today, were not standard issue equipment for them. Oh yeah, and there was that other problem.

A few Freelancers had, quite literally, abandoned ship following the crash, with a few of them shooting their way out against the Invention's trooper support. Florida wasn't sure what it was that Agent Texas had done, but apparently it was enough to convince the supersoldiers that they just about had it with the Director's lot. And as Florida was one of the officers sent in by ONI to keep an eye on the volatile lot of them, he had to admit he was surprised to see such a zealous bid for freedom. The way they broke and ran was so haphazard that either they caught the Director off guard, or had planned it all along and were just really good at covering their tracks.

Either way, I'm glad I don't have to be the one to clean up this mess, Florida thought as he pressed the control panel next to the locker room doors. It wouldn't be long before ONI caught wind of the recent events, and securing an entire frigate's worth of crew and Freelancers didn't sound like it would be fun. For now, he had a lower-risk but nonetheless important task to carry out, ironically under the Director's personal orders.

Florida reached the end of the room and turned the corner, towards the facility's other exit. Standing at the end of a long row of lockers was a grey-armoured Freelancer who was busy moving various objects in and out of the locker unit marked "MONTANA". Some of the items laid out on the bench next to her included a spoofer, some data chips, a few magazines of ammunition, and what looked like an active camouflage module.

Florida stopped just shy of the opposite row of lockers and crossed his arms. "I'm surprised at you, Agent Montana," he remarked. "I didn't think you'd be keeping your classified equipment where the Director could find it so easily. Especially since he knows we're here on ONI's orders."

Montana didn't even turn to acknowledge him, having clearly heard his approach. "Secret compartment," she said shortly. "Hidden in plain sight under all the ONI gear he 'let' me bring on board."

"Naturally. You set the security cameras in here on a loop, I'm guessing?"

She shook her head. "No, I just took them offline altogether shortly after the crash. Right now the Director has more pressing matters than watching a locker room."

"Right, like all the Freelancers making a run for it. How many of us are left?"

"Twenty-one," Montana replied with a briskness that Florida envied. "Some of them want to leave but can't. The Director is keeping everyone under heavy guard now. He hasn't said anything, but the Freelancers may as well be prisoners here."

"Hmph. If they start rioting, you can bet there'll be collateral damage. More collateral damage than the Invention already got today, I mean. Has he talked to you already?"

She nodded. "He wants me to try and calm down whoever's left. He's giving orders to all the Freelancers that he thinks are still loyal. What did he tell you?"

Of course she would know the Director had orders for Florida, whether it was out of intuition or because she had long ago bugged the hell out of the Invention in ways no one could know about them. "I've been reassigned," he told her. "He's moving Alpha somewhere else, somewhere Maine and Texas can't find him." He raised an eyebrow as Montana took two neural-inhibitor collars out of her locker and set them on the bench as well. "If you're going to use those, can you wait until after I'm off the ship?"

Montana gave a short, rare laugh. "Don't worry, Flowers, I'm not going to do anything drastic until ONI shows up to bring in the Director for questioning. You'll have your free ride off this ship, no problem."

"Hey, that's not what I'm worried about," Florida protested, sounding more defensive than he would have liked. "I have to make sure Alpha can be delivered to Section Zero intact. He's in bad enough shape as it is, so I'd rather not add unnecessary risk to the equation. And call me Florida until we're back behind ONI lines. There could be Freelancers listening in."

"Your paranoia is detrimental," Montana said coolly. "No one gets to eavesdrop on me if I don't want them to. Besides, I'm sure you still have a few friends aboard this ship."

"Yeah, I suppose," he grunted. Then he remembered something. "Hey, do me a favour? Look out for Wash until he comes around. I think all his friends have bailed on him by now."

"I'll make sure he doesn't end up in ONI custody," she said. He wasn't giving her an order, but nonetheless she acknowledged it with a deadpan seriousness. He nodded, reminding himself that neither of them would be alive if Montana wasn't as good at doing her job as she claimed.

"Then I'll see you when this is all over. Good luck...Lieutenant."

"And to you, Captain Flowers."

···

"Dammit, how does he even manage to sleep through a crash landing?"

Agent North Dakota noted the concern in his sister's voice, despite her attempt to mask it with exasperation. "Let him be, South," he told her, a little too irritably. "He's had a rough week."

South snorted. "Haven't we all. Everyone's nervous as all hell. No one knows who's supposed to be on which side anymore."

This time, her voice gave off a hint of bitterness that he knew was directed at him. And as tempted as he was to snap back again—Theta was certainly keen on the idea as he prodded North's mind with images of their little scrap last night—he decided to ignore his AI's childish antagonism towards South and gather up what was left of his already thinly stretched patience. So, all he said in response was, "Some of us didn't even know there was more than one side."

South shot him a look, and he knew that they were thinking the same thing. Sometimes being a twin could be a curse, and North was beginning to wonder if the Director had finally succeeded in turning him against his sister.

"Fuck it," she growled. "Let's get out of here before the Director hears about how you helped Texas get away."

There was definitely something accusatory in her tone, but she had caught him off-guard. "So you are coming with me?" he asked before he could stop himself.

She tilted her head, feeling as surprised by his words as he was by hers. "Well, yeah. I said I'd have your back, didn't I?"

North mentally berated Theta to stop manipulating his feelings of trust towards South. He sensed his companion retreat into a corner of his mind to sulk, but for once the Freelancer decided to ignore him. "You're right," he said, more softly. "I'm sorry, South. Things are very confusing right now."

She crossed her arms. "All the more reason to know who you're standing beside, right?"

But that was exactly it. After spending years with his fellow Freelancers, working with them as a team, covering each other's blind spots on the battlefield or off it—and suddenly to see them turning on each other and running off to who knew where—it made North feel disoriented, vulnerable. Even with South, everything that had happened between them last night—he hated to admit it, but the lingering distrust in his mind wasn't all Theta's. "You sure it's not safer to stay here?" he asked finally.

South glanced around none too surreptitiously, causing North to cringe. Subtlety had never been his sister's specialty, and he was sure that the medical teams tending to the numerous casualties in the recovery bay wouldn't take any notice of them. Unless, that is, they began acting shifty, like she was doing now. "No one seems to know who the hell took out Carolina," she muttered, "but I get the feeling the Director does. I have a really bad feeling about what he's hiding. And look at us, North. York, Wyoming, Maine—they've hightailed it out of here. At this point, what are we staying for?"

She had a point. Out of all the remaining Freelancers, who could he really trust if the ones closest to him ran off without so much as a goodbye? "Yeah...hey, South?"

"What?"

"Thanks. For sticking with me."

"Anytime, brother."

There were a lot of things to fix between them, things that had, at one point, seemed unbreakable before last night. But getting away from the Invention together would definitely be a start. North wasn't sure what was next for him and South, but it had to be better than the mess they were in now. Maybe later, when he could start trusting again, they might find some of the others so they could figure out what had led to this.

As North began heading for the exit, he paused when he noticed that South's footsteps had stopped. He turned around and saw her gaze directed towards Washington's still form.

North sighed. "I want to take him with us too, South. But there's no guarantee we'll be able to keep him safe when we go...wherever it is we're going."

"Yeah. I know." Her voice tightened, and this time she didn't try to hide it. "Poor kid deserves better, though." With that, she turned away from her unconscious friend and walked out of the recovery bay a little more quickly than normal.

I think we all deserved better, thought North sadly. He wondered if leaving Wash behind was the right decision, and for the umpteenth time wondered why all the important choices they were making had to be so uncertain. Well, the least we can do for Wash is leave the choice up to him when he wakes up. North followed South, and already he wondered how many troopers they were about to kill in exchange for their freedom.

"Find us a way out of here, Theta," he murmured.