A/N: I'm going to post this now ahead of all the other fics I've written before it, mainly because I want to know if I've just gone off the wall or if there'd be any interest in me continuing this verse with more one shots. If y'all find it too weird, I will try to curb my muse and focus on other things (although I've already got a second fic idea for this brewing so it might be too late...).

There's a good number of modern AU fics out there, so my brain of course had to ask, "why not even more futuristic AUs?" I chose the Firefly universe because I could easily picture our boys in it, with their leather coats, pistols, and even swords (though they're going to use them a bit more liberally here than the show did).

Also, for any Firefly fans out there, I apologize if I get any details or technological stuff wrong. At the time of writing this, I've only recently rewatched the pilot, and this is mostly about Musketeer fun for me anyway. I try my best to be accurate to that world, but I'm also going to change some things to fit this adaptation.

Anyway, I hope this is as entertaining for y'all to read as it was for me to write.

Disclaimer: The characters and universe aren't mine. Huge thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading this! She was dubious at first, but I won her over. XD

Summary: Athos and crew are hired to deliver a shipment of medical supplies to a town experiencing an outbreak of disease. But when corrupt government officials try to seize the medicine for themselves, the musketeers find themselves sticking around. Because there's the job, and then there's the honorable thing to do.

"A Rebellious Cause"

Athos came awake slowly, his head throbbing and thoughts muddied. Prying his eyes open sluggishly, he squinted at the ceiling of his quarters for several long moments before deciding to drag himself out of bed. Every muscle protested the movement, his head especially. As soon as he was upright, he was bowing forward and catching his aching head in his hand. He forgot how fantastically drunk he could get when they were docked on a planet with good quality wine.

Grabbing his flask from the bedside shelf, he took a swig of whatever foul vintage was left in it to take the edge off his hangover. He then pulled himself to his feet and shuffled over to the wall where he opened the sink compartment and turned the faucet on. The water was cold and sent a shudder down his spine as he splashed it over his face. But it did its job in waking him up a little more.

Athos turned the water off and backed into the center of the small space. He stretched out his aching limbs, noticing a twinge in one knee. He'd probably banged it on the ladder on his way down. Aramis kept telling him one day he was simply going to fall through the hatch trying to get to bed and break his neck, but it hadn't happened yet. Usually because someone was always there to catch him.

Once he'd finished unlocking his joints, he changed his shirt and slipped into his leather coat, then clipped his pistols to his belt. His sword in its scabbard was hanging from a hook in the ceiling, which he grabbed on his way up the ladder to the main deck of the ship he was captain of—Luciole. The Firefly class ship was a transport vessel with multipurpose functionality. It was part of a fleet commanded by Commodore Treville. Most of the employees were soldiers, nicknamed "musketeers," but they took a variety of jobs ranging from cargo deliveries to escort details.

Athos stepped out into the corridor in time for Aramis to walk past, looking like he was on his way out. The man flipped his hat up onto his head without breaking stride.

"I'm going to fetch Porthos from whatever dive he's still playing cards in," Aramis said. "Treville left a message with a job for us."

Athos acknowledged him with a nod and headed for the bridge. There was a recorded transmission from their commander simply saying they had a new assignment and to contact him for further details.

Athos sank into the seat at the comms station across from the helm and flipped on the telephonix, calling Treville. After a few moments, the image of a man with short graying hair filled the small screen.

"Commodore," Athos greeted.

"Athos. Any duels take place last night that I should know about?"

"No," he drawled. "We have a mission?"

Treville huffed and said without further preamble, "We've been hired by Ninon de Larroque to ferry her and a shipment of medical supplies on a humanitarian mission to Newhall that's experiencing an outbreak of disease."

Athos arched a brow. A high-born lady taking on that kind of journey was certainly unusual. "When are we to depart?"

"She'll meet you at the docks in two hours."

"Understood. Luciole out."

He switched off the monitor and stood, strapped his sword to his belt, and then made his way down to the engine room to inform his engineer about the trip. But when he stepped into the compartment, he came upon d'Artagnan and Constance engaged in a passionate embrace, tools discarded on the floor at their feet. Athos crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

It took them another moment to notice his presence, and then they were breaking apart in a hurry. Constance's cheeks flushed while d'Artagnan gave a sheepish smile and ran a hand through his hair.

"You have a room, you know," Athos remarked dryly to the married couple.

D'Artagnan cleared his throat. "Right. Sorry."

Constance shook her head. "I was just finishin' up recalibratin' the compression coil I installed yesterday."

"Is everything in order? Because we've received a job."

"When are we leaving?"

"Two hours."

Constance nodded. "The ship'll be ready, Captain." She turned to d'Artagnan and started shooing him toward the corridor. "If someone will let me get my work done."

D'Artagnan threw her a look of mock betrayal as she ushered him out. Just as she turned around, he snaked an arm around her waist and twisted her back to steal a kiss before then dancing away from her immediate smack.

Athos's lips quirked in a barely contained smile. He may not have held any personal love of, well, love, but he didn't begrudge those two their happiness.

"So what's the job?" d'Artagnan asked as they walked through the ship.

"Escorting one Ninon de Larroque and a shipment of medical supplies to Newhall."

D'Artagnan frowned. "Isn't Ninon de Larroque a noblewoman?"

"Yes."

"That should be interesting." He sounded mildly intrigued.

Athos, however, was not looking forward to it.

o.0.o

He and his crew had assembled in the open cargo bay to meet Ninon when she arrived at the docks. As Athos expected, she was dressed in a noblewoman's finery—a richly patterned gown and finely stitched bodice. Long blonde hair fell in cascading ringlets over her shoulders.

"Madame de Larroque," Athos greeted with stiff formality. "I am Captain Athos. This is Aramis, Porthos, d'Artagnan, and Constance. Welcome aboard."

The woman nodded to each of them before turning back to him. "Thank you for your help in this matter."

"You are paying us to do a job," Athos replied blandly.

She canted her head at him for an extra beat. "So I am." Turning around, she gestured to the men behind her to start loading the crates she'd brought.

Aramis and Porthos helped them secure the cargo, while Athos beckoned Ninon to come inside so he could show her around.

"This is the mess. You're welcome to any provisions there are." He led her down the corridor to her guest quarters and opened the opaque sliding door. "If you need anything, you have but to ask."

"What if it is company I desire?"

Athos faltered. "I'm sure any one of my crew might indulge you in the mess."

Aramis, particularly, would likely be happy to, though Athos also dearly hoped the marksman wouldn't seek out something further than that. They did not need a complication from his Lothario ways.

"And what about you indulging me?" Ninon prompted.

Athos didn't know what to say to that. He was not interested in a passing flirtation or fling.

"It is only a day and a half to Newhall," he said instead. "I'm sure the journey will pass quickly."

He walked away.

He met Aramis and Porthos on the catwalks above the cargo bay, the doors now shut.

"We're all loaded up and ready to go," Porthos reported.

Athos nodded, then turned to Aramis. "You might need to entertain Madame de Larroque for the duration of our journey," he said lowly.

Aramis's brows rose in surprise. "Not that I'm not willing to keep a lonely woman company…but why are you suggesting it?"

Athos's jaw ticked. "I'm not saying bed her—in fact, don't. Just…keep her otherwise occupied if need be."

Porthos narrowed his eyes and exchanged a bewildered look with Aramis. "We ain't gonna be flyin' that long."

"I know that. I'm just saying…"

"Captain Athos," a lilting voice called out.

He grimaced but made sure to clear it when he turned to look over his shoulder. "Madame?"

"I've never been on a Firefly class vessel before. Perhaps you will give me more than the standard tour."

"Perhaps later."

She gave him a coy smile before retreating back into the corridor.

A pair of snickers sounded behind him.

"So you want me to distract her because the fair Ninon de Larroque fancies the captain," Aramis said with a grin that was taking far too much pleasure in this.

Athos rolled his eyes. "I have work to do."

"Yes, Captain." Aramis saluted cheekily.

Athos ignored him and headed to the bridge where d'Artagnan was at the helm fiddling with the controls.

"We're ready to take off," Athos told him.

D'Artagnan flipped a few more switches and took hold of the joystick. The engines fired up and the ship vibrated with the vertical take-off that lifted them from the docks. Once they reached a certain altitude, d'Artagnan switched the orientation of the thrusters and directed them up into the atmosphere.

o.0.o

The ship hummed quietly, every thrum more prominent with most of the crew bedded down for the night. Athos checked the auto-pilot and the course before heading into the mess. He reached all the way to the back of one of the top shelves to pull out a bottle of wine, then sat at the table to drink. He knew he couldn't let himself get black-out drunk like he may wish, but he could go for halfway there.

Movement caught his attention and he stiffened as Ninon wandered in, draped in a floor-length robe. Athos was both mildly surprised and relieved that Aramis had apparently not taken the woman to bed. It was better not to mix business with pleasure, though at the same time, Athos found himself inexplicably uncomfortable in her presence. It irked him.

"It's late," he said.

"I can never adjust to space travel where there's no sun to mark the passage of time," she replied, moving forward and sliding onto the bench seat across the table from him. "Offer a woman some wine?"

Athos stood wordlessly and retrieved a cup. Returning to the table, he poured some wine into it and slid it across the table to her. "It's unusual for a woman of your standing to show such hands-on interest in humanitarian causes," he said.

She took a sip, eyeing him over the rim of the cup. "Just as it's unusual for a man of your station to become captain of a cargo ship in the musketeer regiment."

He wasn't surprised she might have recognized him. He'd been a lord by birth, but he had little use for such a title after his wife had destroyed everything.

"I have no interest in station."

"And I have no interest in abiding by societal roles."

Athos inclined his head; he could respect that.

Ninon set her cup down. "I've sent aid in the past, but it has not made it to the people who need it. There's corruption in the government, and my inquiries with the Alliance have been dismissed with vague promises that the matter will be investigated. It hasn't been, and I will no longer wait. This time I will personally see to it that the aid gets where it needs to go."

Athos nodded. "My crew will ensure it does."

o.0.o

They arrived at Newhall and d'Artagnan landed the ship just outside the small town of Barton. From there they loaded the crates onto a cart attached to the ATV and headed into town while Constance stayed with the ship. Ninon directed them to stop on the outskirts next to an old building constructed in the style of a church. There was even a cross on a spire on the roof. The place was an orphanage under the care of the Church.

A shepherdess in a black habit came out and immediately embraced Ninon. "Bless you for coming."

"Of course," Ninon replied. She gestured to the supplies where Porthos was dismounting the ATV. "We've brought medicine and other medical supplies."

Aramis stepped forward. "Sister, I'd like to take a look at your patients and offer help where I can."

"Are you a doctor?"

"Not by trade, but I've picked up some things here and there."

The shepherdess smiled. "Your assistance would be most welcome."

Aramis glanced at Athos, who nodded as the shepherdess led him inside the orphanage. The others set to unloading the crates and carrying them inside, depositing them in the foyer. Beyond that was the refectory, which had been transformed into a makeshift hospital, with cots and pallets laid out in rows along the walls. Men and women in habits moved in and out among the patients, most of whom were children, though there were some adults as well. A somber silence permeated the room, broken here and there by a cough.

Athos and his crew stepped back as the orphanage caretakers immediately set upon the crates of medicine to pop them open and begin distribution. Since this wasn't within his realm of duties, Athos headed back outside to stay out of the way. D'Artagnan followed, saying he was going to go back to the ship. Athos gave him a nod.

He stood outside the orphanage and surveyed the street. Ramshackle buildings coated in dust almost blended into the arid landscape. This town was certainly on the poor side. Sickness had driven people indoors, it seemed, as there was little foot traffic, at least this close to the orphanage.

A few moments later, Porthos emerged. He ran a hand down his beard, expression taut.

"Are you all right?" Athos asked.

The large man gave himself a sharp shake. "It's pretty bad in there. We might have trouble getting Aramis away."

"We're not due back yet," Athos replied. "We can spare some time." He waited, letting his friend shift and fidget in apparent agitation. When he still wasn't forthcoming, Athos prompted, "Porthos."

"Jus' brings back bad memories," he finally confessed gruffly.

Athos nodded in understanding.

Porthos glanced back at the closed door, eyes likely seeing beyond to what lay within. "My mother…she looked jus' like that. Don' know if it was the same sickness. They're all the same anyway. An' the little ones…"

Athos placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. There were no words of comfort in this situation. Or, well, the shepherdesses would disagree, but Athos didn't believe in their hollow platitudes. So he offered his silent but steady presence instead. It was all he had to give.

Porthos flicked his gaze over with a wan smile. It was enough.

o.0.o

D'Artagnan returned from the ship with Constance, who wanted to help with the sick when she learned they'd be staying a bit. Her husband had tried to assist as well, but after finding himself out of his depth, he'd rejoined Athos and Porthos outside, and now the three were nursing some alcohol between them as they stood around, feeling rather useless.

A few of the townsfolk had wandered over, curious about the new arrivals. They'd been suspicious at first about strangers claiming they'd delivered medical aid, but after being reassured by the shepherdess, they'd stopped eyeing the musketeers with open mistrust and gone back to their business.

That was, until a group of five, rough-looking men armed with guns and swords came storming down the street toward the orphanage. Porthos tapped Athos's shoulder and jerked his chin toward them. The musketeers set their cups aside and stepped into a line of three, blocking access to the building.

"Are you the ones that ship belongs to?" one of the men demanded, pointing toward where the Luciole was parked.

"It does," Athos replied. "I am Captain Athos."

"Your ship is in violation of customs."

Athos exchanged a look with Porthos and d'Artagnan. Curious, they hadn't said their business here involved goods.

"We are on a humanitarian mission sanctioned by the Alliance," Athos replied calmly. "And medicinal supplies are not subject to customs laws."

"The governor of Newhall will decide how resources are allocated," the man spat. "Confiscate everything." He cocked his head at his men, who started forward.

The musketeers stood their ground, hands going to the hilts of their swords.

"I advise against it," Athos warned.

The men surged forward. Athos ducked a fist swung at his head and followed-up with a punch to the attacker's kidney. Kicking the man to the ground, he drew his sword and whirled in time to block a strike aimed at his back. Steel clashed with a screech. Athos shoved the blade away and thrust his own into the man's stomach.

Porthos knocked another man flat on his ass and let out a battle cry before swinging his schiavona around and cutting down the next.

D'Artagnan was in a fist fight with the last man but holding his own. After a few exchanged blows, he managed to fling his opponent to the ground, and then he drew his sword to point it at the man's throat.

The leader went for his holstered gun, but Athos twirled his blade and smacked the tip down on his wrist in warning. The man stiffened, his nostrils flaring with vitriol.

"Leave," Athos said. "And don't trouble these people again, or I will report you to Alliance authorities."

The man was shaking with rage, but he knew he and his thugs had been thrashed. With a stiff nod, he slowly moved his hand away from his gun and started to back up. The musketeers kept their weapons raised as the rest of the men shuffled away with their wounded. Only once they were out of sight did Athos sheath his blade.

"That probably ain't over," Porthos commented.

"No," Athos agreed. "We'll set up a watch, and I'll contact Treville."

o.0.o

Athos stood in the foyer just outside the refectory of the orphanage, watching Aramis lean over a child's sickbed and dab the boy's forehead with a cool cloth. The marksman had shed his doublet somewhere and rolled up his shirt sleeves, diving into the task of tending to the sick with full abandon. His skills would have been useful in setting up the watch, but Athos didn't begrudge his desire to help these people. And as the official medic of the crew, it was like asking Aramis to choose between two duties. So Athos was content to leave him be. For now.

He met Constance's eye across the room and gave her a silent order to make sure Aramis slept at some point during the night. She gave a subtle nod in response; she could try, in any case. They both knew Aramis was too giving for his own good.

Athos turned and stepped back outside, the sky a brilliant orange as the sun sank toward the horizon. Porthos was there, eyes peeled against the shadows that would be upon them shortly.

"D'Artagnan and I set up some trip sensors," he reported. "If they come during the night, we should get some warning."

Athos nodded in approval.

"Aramis is gonna work himself into the ground," Porthos huffed next.

"Constance will keep an eye on him."

"What'd Treville say?"

Athos sighed. "That getting a contingent of feds out here anytime soon would be like getting snails to race. He's going to see what he can do."

Porthos grumbled something unintelligible under his breath. "The wealthy think the poor don' deserve things like simple human decency."

Athos kept his silence at that. He'd once been one of the wealthy class. "We will make sure these people are helped." It was the only promise he could give.

Porthos clapped Athos on the shoulder. "I'm gonna check the perimeter."

He set off, and Athos looked around, equally on guard for incoming threats.

The front door creaked open and Ninon stepped out. While her dress was still rich, she too had rolled her sleeves up and cast off her jewelry, her hair tied back but strands flying loose from the dry air.

"I only paid for you to transport me here," she remarked, coming up to him.

Athos quirked a questioning brow at her.

Her lips twitched. "Your man is doctoring the sick. Your engineer is playing nursemaid. And the rest of your crew is protecting everyone here from unscrupulous thieves. Since I'm not paying you for those services, I can only assume you're doing it out of…honor."

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Not of a musketeer," she replied with a smile. "Why do you think I came to your company?"

There was a moment of silence. Then another. Athos just stood there as Ninon started to lean closer, and then her soft lips were suddenly pressing against his. For a moment, his body responded before his head as he embraced the kiss, but then he broke away and clasped her arms, holding her at bay.

"Madame…"

"Is there someone else?"

His heart gave a pang. "No. But I have sworn off romance."

"Hm." She tapped one delicate finger against his chest. "Pity."

With that, she went back inside. Athos let out a breath and wished he could get drunk.

o.0.o

They split watches through the night, but the sensors weren't tripped and nothing amiss happened. In the morning, Athos checked on Aramis and Constance, and found Madame d'Artagnan curled up with her husband on a cramped cot. Aramis, however, was still seeing to patients. Athos rolled his eyes as he crossed the room.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

Aramis glanced up, looking caught off guard. Definitely little to no sleep then.

Without waiting for a response, Athos passed over a protein bar. "Do not pocket that," he said sharply.

Aramis froze, and then with a sheepish duck of his gaze, he ripped the package open with his teeth and hungrily dug into the small bar.

"Has there been any improvement?" Athos asked.

Aramis nodded. "The medicine is working. But those who were the sickest when we arrived…they're still struggling."

Athos roved his gaze over the many beds and the small bodies tucked under the sheets. Some seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but others had cheeks flushed with fever and faces grimaced in distress.

"You've helped a lot of them," Athos said.

Aramis nodded mutely. It wasn't enough for him, Athos knew.

Heavy boots stormed into the refectory and they both jerked their attention over to Porthos. He held up a hand-held reader that was beeping furiously. "We got incoming."

Athos rounded the bed. "How many?"

"Twenty or so." Porthos tapped the screen and held it up. One of the sensor cameras displayed a large group of men, heavily armed, heading down the street toward the orphanage.

Athos waved down the shepherdess. "Is there access to the roof?"

"Yes…"

Athos didn't even have to say it for Aramis to immediately ask the woman to show him.

"Wha's happ'n?" d'Artagnan mumbled, pushing up from the cot blearily and jostling Constance.

"Our friends from yesterday didn't take Athos's warning seriously," Porthos said, already heading for the door.

The sleepy couple scrambled after him, and the four of them hurried back to the ship to retrieve as many weapons as they could carry. Porthos grabbed a couple assault rifles, d'Artagnan an Uzi and extra ammo. Athos preferred his revolvers but he snatched up a sniper rifle for Aramis.

"I want ta help," Constance said.

D'Artagnan shook his head, even as he pushed a pistol into her hand. "Stay in the orphanage with the children."

She huffed, pulling back the slide to check it was fully loaded.

They booked it back to the orphanage.

"How close?" Athos asked.

Porthos fished out the receiver from his coat and checked the screen. "Two minutes."

Athos passed the sniper rifle to Constance and she hurried inside, knowing to get it to Aramis.

Athos surveyed the street, pointing out places for the rest of them to set up with some cover. Porthos took the first alley across from the orphanage while Athos and d'Artagnan positioned themselves behind a pile of crates. Athos craned his neck back to glance up, catching the thin barrel of a rifle extending from the roof. He turned back to the road.

A few moments later, the group appeared, a cloud of dust kicked up behind their tread and spreading a hazy film over the town.

"That's far enough!" Athos shouted.

The men drew to a stop. The leader from before took one step forward.

"In the name of the governor of Newhall, you are ordered to surrender!"

D'Artagnan leaned toward Athos. "Are we the lawmen or the outlaws here?"

"Depends on how you look at it," he replied mildly. "I do not recognize your authority!" he shouted back. "Unless you care to present a signed writ, all the supplies in this orphanage are property of the caretakers."

The leader waved a hand and two of his men pulled something from their weapons belts. It took Athos a split second to recognize the grenades. A rifle shot cracked the air and one of the men dropped dead before he could pull the pin. The second jerked in surprise, and the rest of the men aimed their guns and started peppering the street with bullets. Athos and d'Artagnan pressed themselves behind the crates as ricochets splintered the ground and building behind them.

More shots fired as Aramis took out more men from his perch. But it gave away his location and someone started shooting a machine gun up that way. Athos swung low as he came around the edge of the crates and fired back. He shot the guy blasting the machine gun with his second hit and then ducked back under cover.

Porthos roared as he came out brandishing his assault rifle in a sweeping arc that sent the armed thugs scattering. A grenade bounced across the ground and Porthos barely managed to dive back into the alley in time before it exploded.

Athos and d'Artagnan fired off more rounds, but then some of the men had gotten too close, and they switched to swords, charging out from behind their cover and striking down those who had dared challenge them. For those who tried to shoot them from a distance, Aramis's sniper fire continued to cover them.

A cry rose up in the streets, and Athos paused for just a moment as he saw townspeople pouring into the street with guns and clubs, coming at the enemy from behind. He turned back to his opponent, their blades striking in a staccato rhythm before Athos finally disarmed him and thrust his sword through the man's chest.

The last of the battle sounds faded and Athos took a step back to survey the damage. Bodies were sprawled everywhere, mostly the governor's corrupt muscle, but some townsfolk as well appeared to be wounded. They had, however, won the day.

The orphanage's door opened and Constance and Ninon emerged. Ninon's eyes were wide as she took in the scene. And then her gaze landed on Athos.

"Are you all alright?" she asked.

He sheathed his sword, doing a quick assessment of his crew. "Yes."

Aramis came jogging out a moment later. He had an abrasion on his cheek that looked like he'd been caught in some plaster exploding when the machine gun had ripped through the top of the building, but otherwise unharmed.

"I'd hate to think what will happen if the governor tries to send more," he said.

Indeed.

Aramis's gaze caught sight of some wounded townspeople and he immediately set his rifle down and hurried over to help.

Athos was just starting to ponder how to go about cleaning all this up when a grunt and cock of a gun drew his attention. He'd barely turned when a sharp report split the air, and then he blinked as one of the goons fell back, the pistol in his hand slipping from his fingers.

Everyone had frozen, and then Athos turned to see Constance holding a smoking gun. Her husband gaped at her.

Constance rolled her eyes. "Why do you all always forget I can shoot as well as any of you?" With a huff, she turned on her heel and strode back inside.

D'Artagnan glanced around at the others. "My wife," he said with a touch of pride.

Porthos grinned.

Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan set about securing the men who were still alive and tying them up in a nearby building that wasn't in use. Aramis, of course, went back to running himself nonstop stitching up gunshot wounds and treating burns from the firefight.

Treville finally sent a message that an Alliance ship was en route and would be there in a few hours.

"O' course they swoop in after all the work's been done," Porthos grumbled.

Athos merely pulled out his flask and took a swig before passing it over.

When the authorities finally arrived, Athos gave his report and handed over the prisoners. The lieutenant promised there would be a full investigation into the governor. Athos wasn't going to hold his breath, but at least the people of Barton were going to be keeping Ninon's generous donation.

"Thank you for your help," she said as they stood outside the ship getting ready to depart. "I can pay you extra."

"That's not necessary," Athos said. "It was our pleasure to help."

She smiled. "I'm going to stay for a while, make sure things do improve."

Athos's lips twitched. He could just imagine the feds having to deal with her. But he wished her luck.

They bid farewell and he watched her walk back to the orphanage before he boarded his ship last. Constance closed the cargo bay doors behind him, while Porthos was already tugging an obviously exhausted Aramis toward the stairs up to the main deck.

"Food and then bed," the larger musketeer ordered.

"I think I prefer bed first," Aramis replied wearily, his feet dragging.

"I'm gonna put 'im in one of the guest quarters," Porthos said over his shoulder to Athos.

Aramis jerked, affronted. "My room is just fine."

"You'll never make it down the ladder without fallin' on yer arse."

"Athos does it all the time."

Athos didn't even bother responding to that.

Constance climbed the steps to the catwalks on the other side. "I'll make you some tea," she called as she ducked into the corridor.

Athos listened to the quiet bickering fade before he headed up to the bridge where d'Artagnan was already at the helm and firing up the systems. With a silent look between them, he switched on the thrusters and they took off into the stars.