The rainy season was approaching. He could feel it in his wrists.

Ceres rubbed them absentmindedly as he watched the thin wind whip around the trees in the forgotten field. It was too cold for spring; the days had been colder each year, it seemed. When he had been a boy, it was possible to stay warm from Intas through half of Yaris; now, he was cold year-round. It was a worrisome cold, the kind that made you think about dying.

Not that his mind could have been focused on anything else in that moment. He glanced behind him to where his coal-black aeroship lurked in the half-darkness, ready to embark on her first clandestine flight, and possibly her last. The Crane, he had called her. She was more like the Crow now.

His bony fingers sought out the seerstone ring he had tied around his neck. Would she come? He knew they were on tense terms since the night of the Masquerade, when she had discovered his other identity. But she had said that she was prepared to face the consequences of the knowledge, and she had seemed willing to do anything to help the resistance. Would she really risk her life for strangers, for humans?

((that's your cue, khy!))

((Sorry, just want to get Fion in there, when Khy arrives, she'll just go put her crap in the Crane.))

Fion was prepared. For a while she'd been quite worried about the whole thing but once she started treating it like a day trip, it had become much easier to handle. She had a box full of partially empty bottles of alcohol, mainly cheaper ones from work that no one liked and wouldn't notice missing, along with some old rags. She was wearing a skirt and a coat but underneath she had a pair of black pants and a shirt that covered up to her neck. She'd even taken the time to bind her breasts down a little, so they wouldn't be as noticable. She'd made six cloth masks, simple affairs that covered your hair and had to be fastened twice, so they fit anyone. She'd borrowed some medical supplies from Ivan, that she'd carefully stored in a pack on her back. She'd used a spare shirt or two to pack the bottles, so she had some extra clothes.

It was like going on holiday, only with makeshift firebombs.

Fion caught sight of the Crane but didn't speed up. She kept walking at her normal speed, wondering what to say once she got there. She was scared, no point hiding that, although she also felt a sense of purpose that she hadn't for quite some time. She ran through her mental checklist once more, cataloguing what she needed to do before they took off. She wanted to see Stu again. She saw Ceres and raised the side fingers on her right hands, all she could spare, in greeting.

The red head hadn't wanted to come. When Ceres had contacted her, she'd been sitting alone in front of the fire, not really looking at much of anything. His voice and instructions held urgency, the situation required a healer and maybe some offensive skills. Somewhere out of her numb state of mind, she'd pulled herself together. What transpired between herself and Ivan could not affect the bigger picture. There were lives at stake, far more important than her misery. Dressing in a simple blue commoner dress and thick black cloak, she left the house.

Approaching the familiar field of the greying man, she looked up with red rimmed eyes and simple tied back hair. She looked like she felt. Shaking off the depression she'd been wallowing in since yesterday, she nodded to Ceres. Glancing to the side, she noticed Fion with a little smile.

"Hello Gamze. Ceres." Khymarah said quietly.

Tanner was perhaps a little too young to be entirely afraid, filled with a rebellious kind of excitement that blinded her a little to the magnitude of danger they were headed towards. It was a clocking rescue, and she was going to get to shoot some luggers who had thought jailing her friends was a good idea. So what if there was the addition of personal harm? It was either going to go their way or it wasn't; there was no sense in her mind agonizing over how it could all go down.

She'd spent the past few days making her own bullets with a secret furtiveness. The only gun she owned she'd stolen. It was a rifle, and it was pretty. It was loud, however, and because of that she'd also managed to come up with a crossbow and a fair number of bolts. The girl had a sharp eye and a steady hand, but she certainly wasn't made of coins. At least she could fletch for herself when she needed to.

The young human had dressed in her darkest colors, pulled back her brown hair, and would probably look ridiculous to the three already waiting, burdened as she was by her distance weaponry and wearing a near-smile.

Approaching the group and leaning on the rifle idly, Tanner huffed stray hair out of her face and wiped her upturned nose with the back of her other hand. She felt small already, offering simply, "Evenin'."

"Hey Angora!" Fion said, still waving with the small amount of hand that she had free. "Let me get this stuff unpacked, I brought something for you."

Fion nodded to Tanner, recognising her but not knowing her well. She walked into the Crane and proceeded to unload her box, the get into her pack. She'd left the masks on top because they were the most important, the medical supplies would probably need to wait until they were needed. She didn't want to risk the bottles of medicinal alcohol breaking.

Fion unpacked what she needed and tried on her mask.

Ed "Barrel" Barrett kissed his left bicep for luck, something he did before every mission. It was getting easier to do, owing to the gradual deposition of lean muscle from the regular tides of strain, rest and consumption that made the peaks of his now veinous upper arm reach readily to his lips.
That was what they told you when you were training - eat, exercise, sleep. Three simple steps. But they left out the fundamental fourth component; The Will. Without that, even Barrel's perfect physique was moot. It was The Will that led him from circus training to the resistance, The Will that had brought him safely through every mission so far, and most importantly it was The Will that had rewarded him with such an excellent body.

Barrel ignored the cold gnawing at his bare arms, favouring a sleeveless vest, as many men of his stature choose to wear. He spotted the Crane where he was told it would be.
Showtime.

"Tanner, Gamze." Barrel nodded to them.
"Mr Ceres, Miss, uhh, Angora."

Old habits die hard, and Barrel kept his greetings segregated by race unintentionally. He'd not seen Angora before, but he'd been briefed with what to expect. Could such a delicate looking golly really be mixed up in a rescue operation? A resistance operation?

Underneath his weathered, blank exterior, Ceres looked relieved to see that everyone had arrived safely to the meeting point. He saluted to each one of them. Especially grateful were his looks at Khymarah and Fion; he had half expected them to opt out of the mission for personal reasons. Tonight, it was time to put the past behind them and focus on the task at hand.

"We need to move as soon as the sun sets," he said, turning and pointing to where Ire dipped low in the crimson sky. "That's when they let prisoners out. My aeroship makes a lot of noise. I greased her down as well as I could, but once we start it will be quite obvious. I plan to take a detour around the city and fly high as she'll go. With luck, they won't notice we're flying over the Law District until we're halfway through."

He looked each of them in the eye, sizing up their readiness for the mission.

"We only have a small window of opportunity," he said solemnly. Looking back at his aeroship, he pointed to the exterior, where a dark bundle of sticks and rope was rolled around a winch. "There is a ladder a hundred feet in length. When we approach the prison yard and sight our men, we cut it loose and swing in low. As we descend, Tanner, you'll need to take out the guards once they sight us. Once all the men are on the ladder, I'll ascend, but we'll need to retract the ladder as quickly as we can. That's where you come in, Barrel."

He faced the strong man. "The winch will be difficult to operate from inside the ship, but there's a hatch that opens on top, and rungs leading down to it," he said. "I will shield you when you are in range of the guards. Angora, the first part of your task is to protect Barrel from their spells, to keep up my shield. It will be difficult, so you will need the best of your concentration."

Turning to Fion, he bowed his head slightly.

"Once the men are inside the hold, you will need to remain with them and care for them during the trip," he said to her. "I will not be able to stop until we reach Old Rose. Doubtless they will pursue us, but Hawke is aware of our plans. He has vowed to send his birds into the air around the border to the harbor. They will not challenge the pursuers, but we shall be able to hide well among their ranks and land in the dark of the jungle."

Ceres looked up at everyone to see that they understood.

Fion exited the Crane just as Ceres began to speak, her mask half tied on. She'd designed them to cover almost everything, save the eyes, and to be adjustable. The upper portion was secured over her hairline, tied behin the head. The lower portion was still hanging, ready to be pulled up over her nose and tightened, when necessary. As it was, it almost looked like a bandanna. She wasn't going to risk not wearing one, just in case she had to take a more active role.

She listened to Ceres speak with a careful ear. Her heart swelled at the thought of seeing Stu and Casey again. They were so close.



Fion nodded, to indicate that she had understood. There was really no where else she'd rather be. She'd done basic first aid before, even less than basic first aid during the riot. She wanted to help.

"I've brought some Stacks Specials along, in case we fly above any guards." Ceres surely knew what she was refering to. A bottle of alcohol with a rag, lit aflame, thrown at someone or something.

Saved on spells, easier than magic, very difficult to deflect since the alcohol would still spread and burn even if a shield shattered the bottle. Damn hard to cast a spell when you were on fire. So long as this wasn't close to their men, it wasn't a bad tactic.

If not, some of them were probably going to want a belt of something before she took to them with a needle.

Tanner listened, perhaps with a faint expression of rapt attention. First, they were going to clocking fly. In an aeroship. Flying. Second, she was going to get to shoot the kenserfaces who took her friends. Third, it was going to be a damn fine rescue that she could hold over Casey's head for a long, long time. Fourthly, that seamstress brought fire. And, last but not least, they were going to end up in Old Rose. How could no one else smile at all of that?

The young woman, hardly very far into adulthood enough as it was save for her station in life, found this all more exciting than daunting, though that didn't mean she wasn't afraid. It was the kind of fear that produced bravado, and as she leaned up from her gun and let her smile fade into something more hardened and grown up, she knew that not all of her adventurous interests would be welcome on this trip.

It would be hard to contain it all.

Huffing at her overgrown bangs, the brown-haired human glanced at Gamze questioningly, almost like a shy deer unsure of the safety of a clearing, "Do we all gotta wear those, really? I gotta be able to see to drop luggers like pigeons, y'know."

Fion resisted the urge to say, "You will wear it and like it, young lady."

"They won't obstruct your eyes." She said, demonstrating how the rest of the mask was tied back before allowing it to drop again. It left a blank space for the eyes and didn't obstruct peripheral vision. "It'll help protect your identity and make us look like more... similar. It's like a uniform, we'll seem more organised and intimidating."

Oh yes, hanging around Ivan had been paying off in spades.

"It's harder to go up against a faceless enemy. After we leave it'd be better if they couldn't give much information at all. They'll look incompetent if the only information they can give is that we wore masks." Fion continued, hoping that they'd appreciate her reasoning.

She wanted those bastards to be afraid. Fion had lived with fear for nearly every day of her life, the vindictive part of her wanted to share the love, so to speak. She wanted them to worry that they were up against something that could do them damage. If the resistance gained that then there'd be some leverage, or so she thought, anyway.

Ceres nodded at Fion's words.

"There is another reason we should guard our faces with cloth," he said. "The galdori in the Keep will surely use their gaseous poisons should we fly too low to the ground. If they attempt to smoke us out, the masks will keep us afloat until I can dispel their work. I will need Khymarah's help to keep the Crane in the air."

He turned to the galdori woman. "I need to teach you how to apply the spells to the machine," he said, hoping she would have the fortitude to handle two tasks at once. "Please follow me. Cadets, wait quietly and watch the sun. We have a little light left."

Khymarah smiled wanly, the moment not reaching her eyes. At least when they got rolling, it would take her mind off...things.



The red head nodded slightly to the thick armed man, not missing his segregation of classes. Glancing at Ceres, she wondered if he did too.



She listened carefully as he spoke. This wasn't a little test, a little half mission. This was the real deal. It would be dangerous, stressful and hard. The woman glanced at the faces around her, taking in their emotions. Hard, strong, ready. Her dual colored eyes returned to Ceres.



The galdor nodded, looking at Barrel. She would never forgive herself if her petty love life got in the way of her duties. Drawing herself up, she grasped the anger that she'd felt yesterday morning, held onto it. Her heart thumped and she nodded curtly.

"Understood." The young woman said softly.



Khymarah glanced at the outfits Fion had with her. They were certainly going to hide faces well enough, but the red head knew that she had a more pressing issue than that. Her field was like a flashing phosphor beacon.



Moving through the gathered people, she approached Ceres directly, ready to learn. She was already gathering her thoughts and plans, pushing away all outside distractions.

"Ceres, what do you need me to do?" Her voice was stronger than before. More focused.

"Thank you for coming," he said immediately, as they walked towards the parked aeroship. In the dying light of the sun it was a black silhouette in a black field; approaching, Ceres pulled a stick lantern from his pocket, illuminating the dark side in a blush of blue light. "The cabin should be able to hold ten men. I don't need to tell you that we'll be over the weight limit; that was partially why I asked Tanner along, as she barely counts."

He closed his eyes and lifted his hand, and a wave of energy seemed to pulse through the air. Something clicked within the belly of the aeroship, and the doorside wing began to lower. It hit the grass and Khymarah could see rivets in the metal, forming a convenient ramp to the cabin door.

The galdor descended the stairs purposefully.

"It takes years to learn how to fly these contraptions," he said, "and we have only moments. I will teach you the basic controls, so that if I become distracted you may rescue us from peril. It will not require more than the push and pull of your will."

The door swung open without a sound, and Khymarah could see the glimmering of newly greased hinges; Ceres stepped inside, holding the door open for her. The interior was very familiar to her, as she had flown in the Crane once before, though under a different pilot.

It took twenty minutes for Ceres to describe the flying gears and their parts; by the end of his instructional lecture, Khymarah knew precisely what the three main levers controlled, where the gears were that controlled the steering hub, where the controls for the balloon elevation and gas main were located, and the approximate incantation for almost any bad situation. It was surprising how very simple the spells were, though they were not the sort of spells you would read in a book; many of them seemed like Ceres' own inventions, formed from years of intimacy with the aeroship, knowing each trifling quirk and bothersome habit of its interior anatomy. Most of them were merely Pushing spells, however complex and intricate.

"Do you understand?" asked Ceres finally, looking her in the eyel. He had sensed the agitation in her field better than any human or wick could ever do, and his own field resonated with concern.

Khymarah listened carefully as he showed her the Crane's controls, surprised at how complicated it had seemed when Moore had flown it. The spells were nothing more complex than modified Pull and Push spells, but the ingenuity behind them was fascinating. Part of the young woman wished she'd had a chance to talk to Ceres as Devlin...before her life in the resistance. Perhaps, when things had settled down - both for herself and for the Party - they could have a proper discussion about the finer details of spell modification.



Glancing up from the controls, the ruby haired woman could sense the unspoken concern in his field, and for a moment, berated herself. As much as she had resolved to push her personal issues aside, they had filtered through anyway. Reaching up, she tucked away loose strands of red hair behind her ears, careful not to push her hood away from her head.

"Yes, I think so. It's all rather straightforward once you explain it out. You've really set it up nicely." Pausing, she sighed slightly, before offering up an attempt at an encouraging smile.

"I'll be fine, I promise. It seems I cast better under pressure." Her smile wavered slightly, but she didn't cry or come undone. They needed her.

Tanner huffed at it all in youthful, cocky defiance, muttering in quiet dejection once Ceres supported Fion's explanation, "Fine. Fine. I get it." She understood, but she still disliked the idea. Some fiery streak underneath the girl's surface wanted all those clocking galdori to see her face and know who was clocking giving them what for ... but the idea of gas and magic and all of that rot was more than enough motivation.

She watched the two galdor slip away toward the aeroship, eyes lingering on the machine with a unhidden curiosity and childish fascination. It was awesome. Tanner couldn't wait to be in it.

The brown-haired, lanky girl finally tilted her head almost apologetically toward the other human woman, offering a smile before turning her gaze to watch for the sun, "Bringin' fire's a good idea. Might even be able to light 'em after you throw 'em, but I'll prolly have to stick to shootin' bodies instead of bottles."

Barrel saw little point in the headgear as far as identity concealment went - he cut silhouette that would scare a Hatcher out of a fog. But her point about looking intimidating seemed sound to him, and he wrapped and adjusted the bandanna contraption without complaint.

He observed the reaction in the redhead as she was given her instructions. She would be protecting him? Her apparent nervousness concerned him, but he made great effort not to show it - remaining positive was a question of morale, and besides, he'd seen much frailer gollies cast taller orders before.



Barrel huffed a little in embarrassment at that. It was true he pushed 200 pounds, but not an ounce of it was waste.
And besides, he had a good throwing arm for the mollies too, thanks to that brief and...insane relationship with the wick who liked to have knives thrown at her.

A private nostalgia smile spread across his features, and his eyes glazed over a little.

In an uncharacteristic display of sensitivity, Ceres did not question her on what was bothering her. "I have no doubt," he said seriously. "There is staggering potential in you, Angora. Do not hesitate to explore it."

Stepping out of the cabin, he gestured to the others to come to the ship. He was not concealing his field now. It seemed that he needed all of his strength for what was to come.

"It is time," he said; though he was not speaking loudly, his voice seemed to carry as far as it needed to. "We know what it is that we must do - rescue our men from certain death, and by doing so we will strike fear into the hearts of the ones who sought to bully and cow us into submission by making an example of them. We must show them that we will not lie back like dogs and take their abuses. They will remember what we do tonight. When the prisons are full to bursting and the war seems the most grim, when all but a flicker of hope has faded from the horizon, even then they will remember tonight."

He had a hard, determined look on his face, and the lines of his age seemed more pronounced than ever.

"Easier to just throw them, then they catch on impact." Fion said, smiling at Tanner's enthusiasm.

She perked up when Ceres returned. Now wasn't the time for her to tell Khymarah about Ivan's problems but she was going to have to.



Fion felt a momentary jab of annoyance, wondering what Ceres would know of being abused, of being cowed. By the end, though, it was hard not be swayed by his speech. They were going to bring their own back from the brink. It had never been done before and she hoped it made them shake in their boots.

She was ready to go.

"Fuck, yeah." She said, under her breath.

The young woman bowed her head slightly, a little humbled by his words. Most of her life had been spent in the background, shunned for her appearance and falsely questionable heritage. Now, here was a fellow galdor, and a powerful one at that, telling her she had potential? If she got out of this alive, Khymarah promised herself to pursue her learning further. Perhaps it was time to seek out a mentor.



The red head felt her heart emboldened by his words. Indeed, they would no longer accept the ways of today, looking forward to the freedom of tomorrow. She saw the look in the others eyes and caught the movements of Fion's lips. Risking a smile, she nodded.

"A change is coming." She said softly, voice full of conviction.

"Clockin' right." Grinned the whip of a girl with an approving shake of her firearm, scrawny chest puffed with youthful, rebellious pride, "That's what I'm talkin' 'bout there, I'd say."

Today, she was going to drop some clocking gollies ... the bad ones, anyway. Maybe. Mostly. Well, she was at least going to get her friends out. It would be a good lesson for them, letting all of those oppressing folks know they meant business. That was for certain. She didn't hesitate to scramble into the aeroship; pulse pounding excitedly in her ears, "Let's go get 'em already, then."

As they loaded into the aeroship, Ceres sat down in the pilot's seat and donned his particular brand of facial covering - an aviator hood and mask, coupled with thick goggles that obscured his eyes but allowed him to see perfectly. The aeroship made groaning, protesting noise as the cadets boarded, but once they had settled into their positions, the engine was rumbling too loud for them to hear. The darkness pressed in all around them in the field as the Crane began to take off.

It was dark inside the cabin except for a tiny phosphor lamp in the far back. Ceres was piloting using his instincts alone, wanting to obscure his aeroship as much as possible; nothing gave away a flying ship like a bright golden cockpit.

"We're taking off," said Ceres over the roar. "If you don't have a strap, hold on tightly to one of the leather hooks on the walls!"

He hoped Fion was doing all right in the hold; there were no straps to hold onto, but the hold was empty, so she wouldn't need to fear being crushed by anything.

They were hovering over the black field, shedding no light on their surroundings, though they could see the wind from the propellers whipping the tall grass beneath them. The ship was rising rapidly. Suddenly, Ceres lunged forward and shifted a lever, and they felt the tremor of his Push spell as the machinery clicked into place.

The aeroship lurched forward; it was not so much gliding gracefully and evenly, but certainly still airborne. The crew was bumped around quite a bit, including Fion in the hold, but they all escaped without any injuries, for now. The Crane was finally on the move.

Fion handed the masks out to the rest of the crew before she made her way into the hold. She wanted to say something encouraging to Khymarah but she had the feeling that Khymarah did not need her reassurances. She was doing fine. Fion knew that it was time to focus on herself and what she was going to do.

The first thing was not bashing her head against the wall when the Crane took off... She braced her legs as much as she was able but she wasn't used to being in vehicles of any kind, let alone flying ones. She slipped immediately and let out an undignified squawk that she was sure the rest of the crew had heard. She eventually found a way of keeping semi-upright, bracing her legs against the floor and riding the bumps and lurches. Once she found her rhythm all that was left was a bone-deep sense of anticipation. She found herself wanting the ship to move faster.

The cabin was silent as the aeroship glided gently over the fields and farms on the outskirts of the city. A few low-lying clouds were all that obscured their path; being up in the air was freedom, Ceres reminded himself, and it was a dear price he had paid for it.

The night sky was hardly clear; on the horizon the dull black of gathering clouds blended with the black of the universe, blotting out the stars, but there was moonlight enough to cast a wispy shadow on the ground below as they passed by. A gentle wind buffeted the side of the ship, causing the tinkling of instruments and glass, reminding him that a storm was brewing, far away.

His mouth was set in a thin line, and his eyes were focused and sharp on the city lights. They were not the only ship in the sky that night, and he doubted anyone would take heed of the black spectre slipping over the reaches of the Dives, passing factories and townhouses and taverns, making little noise over the general din of the capital city. Other, more glamorous aeroships were hovering around the city, waiting to drop off passengers or pick them up on long slender runways attached to platforms and the tops of buildings. Ceres could see their glittering bronze bodies like beetles, spread out everywhere.

They would have no trouble passing by unnoticed, but what would happen when the rescue began? Did any of these aeroships belong to the military? To the Seventen?

His knuckles turned white on the steering column, and he swung the aeroship around a passing zeppelin. It didn't even notice them. They were merely a fly against the vast iridescent hull, shadowed against the taut skin of the world-class balloon.

The lights of the city were more obvious now, and Ceres pulled a lever to direct the rudder fan. They swooped back up into the clouds. It would not do to be spotted over the housing districts of Uptown.

Suddenly the brightness of the night was very real, and the cabin was illuminated in the moon's cold, benevolent light. It shone like a spotlight on the weathered face of the galdor.

"Are you all ready?" he asked, glancing backwards at the cadets as they grazed the top of the cloud with their rudder, leaving a smoky trail behind them in the air.

Tanner had spent whatever time she wasn't starting in awe out the window loading her small collection of weapons. She'd put her mask on, more to get used to how it affected her vision than for any particular feelings of preparation. She was still loading her rifle, the weapon she'd probably use first. It was going to be hard to reload once things got started.

"Ready enough," the brown-haired girl's expression was unreadable behind the cloth, but the youthful tenor of her voice was unable to mask her excitement, "Let's give 'em a good show from up here!"