The Gaian League. From a group of six, the name will evoke a dozen reactions. Ecoterrorists. Insurrectionists. Outsiders. Hackers. Underdogs. Rogues. Idealists. Rebels. Anarchists. Criminals. Libertarians. Wackos.

  And the truth is, many of these apply to one cell or another. The League is a loose confederation of vaguely connected anti-establishment organizations broadly sharing the same goal; to shove a wrench in the engine. The engine of civilization. Some of the groups have grievances with real merit. Some are pursuing desperate local power grabs. Some are pawns in opportunistic ploys by other polities to gain at Earth's expense. Ultimately, the League is a melting-pot of aggrieved idealists, vengeful outsiders, and criminal scum backed by money from various regional powers.

  Sadly, In the twelve years since its inception, the League hasn't really done anything to help the ecosphere. To be fair though, there's not much anyone can do about that mess. It's more of a retaliatory movement these days; avenging the death of the ecosystem. It's not doornail-dead, 'lying cold on a slab' dead, but go ask any oceanographer what the state of ocean fauna will be in five years. Ask a biologist what percentage of genera will be extinct in ten years. It's dead, Jim.

  No, the League exists mostly to fuck things up, ideally in a way that helps 'the little guy' and hurts the big Earth corps. It goes without saying that it's pursued in a way that makes the League members wealthy in the process. Sometimes the 'helping the little guy' part falls out the airlock, but it's the thought that counts, right? And it's not like ecoterrorism comes with a salary and retirement package.

  Which is a problem if you're leading a private security force employed by the Gaian League, and your primary benefactor was just imprisoned in a political witch-hunt. Or from a different perspective; with the League's Solar District leadership arrested, the mercenaries just lost their paychecks. And in other circumstances, that might be the end of it. The leader of such a security force might catch the whiff of sickness, the scent of decay, the tremble that forebodes the end. Such a leader might cut their losses and flee.

  And Caspian Casey did catch such a whiff, which is why his six-person security team was nowhere near the Solar District habitats that were raided by the colonial navy. It's why he managed to abscond with the League's sole remaining Mercury-Class Corvette several days prior. He'd taken it out on a 'scouting run' sunward, which somehow kept getting extended for another day. And good thing, since his team wasn't swept up by the naval strike force. Which means he and his crew aren't dead or sitting in a brig.

  They're sitting in a bar on Ganymede. But it's not the end of it, because they're not looking for the next fight.

  Caspian Casey isn't former military, doesn't have a rank, and doesn't think of himself as a mercenary. Mostly, he doesn't fight for money. Ideally, he doesn't want a fight at all. Caspian is a fixer, in the business of solving problems for his employers through any means available, legal or illegal. He does this by quietly applying pressure, making deals, and engineering circumstances to favor cooperation towards his ends. He's not above lies, bribery, or using the implicit threat of violence to do about ninety-five percent of the black-hat work. The remaining five percent is making anyone who insists on a fight regret doing so.

  It's a rather specific skillset. Any thug can shoot a pistol or throw a firebomb. Blackmail, extortion, spyware, and intimidation take a little more nuance and skill to pull off well. But Caspian's talent is making problems go away without dirtying his own hands or involving his employers. Ideally, his team pays for or arranges others to commit any crimes for him. Best case, nobody even knows his team was involved.

  But now his employers in the Solar District are either dead or under arrest, and the Earth-based Gaian benefactors are in hiding. And while Caspian appreciates the new gunship he's ridden to the Jovian, he's been left holding the bag and not holding the wallet. Which is why he's speaking with a prostitute.

  That is to say, he's speaking with Cara Morgan, the hatchet-faced Madam of The Trojan Whores, Ganymede's principal brothel. That triple entendre, worthy of Melody's sense of humor, contrasts with the humorless madam. Cara Morgan is in her late fifties, and she's coordinated most of the Gaian League's activities on the moon for the past decade. In the past year, though, her influence has swelled with the number of Gaian refugees she's currently housing. Considering that the Gaians depend on her for food and air and housing, her stock has risen sharply.

  The two couldn't look more dissimilar. Caspian is a slim man in his mid-forties with a crewcut, green eyes, and a trimmed goatee, wearing a plain buttoned shirt and brown vest. He could be any blue-collar worker off-shift. Cara, on the other hand, looks like someone who missed her calling as the sternest sister in the catholic convent. Her steel-grey hair is pulled back in a tight bun, and she's dressed in a severe white blouse and long black skirt.

  In deference to the venue, she swirls a pink cocktail, placing her lips to the straw. "Caspian, you can't tell me you're upset?"

  And you didn't sip. Don't trust the bartender? Or don't drink? I shake my head. "Shouldn't we be? If what you say is true, one of our top Jovian assets is dead, and the package intercepted and stuck on Ursa Miner. It'll take months for Rusteater's replacement to dig in deep enough to make a play for it."

  Cara frowns, eyes darting. Definitely doesn't trust everyone here. "No names, remember? Not even in meatspace, the rules-"

  I rap my knuckles on the bar counter. "Don't even start with me, Cara. Rusteater is dead, and the cops know where their loyalties lay. Damage done."

  The frown lines cross the madam's wrinkles as they deepen. "Still, bad habit to get into."

  If anyone here was informing on you, we'd already be done for. "We both know all the codes and secrecy didn't help the cells in the Solar District," I mutter. I should know; I came up with half those protocols. "Goddamn supersapient AIs. 'Oh, there's a 0.32 percent increase in fuel consumption on the Mercury rail transits? Flag for Gaian terrorists..." I mutter.

  Cara's eyes narrow. "It's not quite that simple."

  I sigh, taking a small sip of my gin and tonic, grimacing. Terrible. "It doesn't matter anymore. The Solar Collective isn't going to risk funding us, even through third parties. Not if we're no longer operating in their district," I add, placing the glass down and sliding it away. "And how many credits do you think the Luddites on Earth are gonna kick over here? Enough for us to buy a headstone, perhaps. 'Here Lies the Gaian League; They Died Doing the Right Thing'." I motion to the bartender, linking into the menu to order. Hmm, not whiskey.

  Cara leans closer, sliding her own drink aside untouched. "It's a big setback, no doubt. We always knew our foothold sunward was shaky. The Solar District was a blow, but it's not over. The Dark District is big."

  I let a slow breath out through my nose. "Big and empty."

  She gives me a sly smile. "Exactly. Yes, they're driving us out. But they're not going to follow, not in force," she adds, waving a hand. "A few diehard gunners who can't let go, maybe. Time will help."

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  I narrow my eyes. "Help us? Or Earth?"

  The madam shrugs. "Earth can't use the League as scapegoats now. With most of our assets inside Mar's orbit gone, they'll have bigger fish to fry. We should consolidate the Jovian and Kuiper. Get a stranglehold on resources, build up some economic power out here. Be too diffuse for them to hit at once."

  I close my eyes, rolling a few scenarios through my head. "Some of the hardcore cells aren't gonna like banking our operations."

  "With most of the funding gone, you have a lot of leverage to make that call." She leans closer, speaking more softly. "Besides, with most of the Solar District leadership arrested and the Earthborn Gaian's gone to ground, nobody is going to oppose our control out here. And if they did, they couldn't do more than squawk over the exonet."

  The bartender slides a mixed rum drink in front of me. Classic power grab? Sloppy. "It's not so simple. Yeah, we could exert a lot of leverage over Gaian elements. But there's a lot of different interests mixed in the Dark District."

  She tilts her head. "A lot of conflicting interests. Ones that you could navigate and play against each other, politically, with the right connections," she adds.

  I smile at that. Finally got there in the end. "So, this is the conversation we're having? A coup?" I take a sip of the drink. Hmm, coconut?

  Cara raises a silver eyebrow. "If our leaders are in prison or in hiding, is it truly a coup? Or are we simply acting as faithful stewards and keeping the flock together?" Cara gives me a smile that doesn't touch her eyes.

  Worth considering; a gunship coupled with the local networks and support? "I think you're mixing your metaphors," I say, taking a moment to savor the drink. Hmm, Herme's Package? Not bad. "Still... there's a degree of deniability there. So, I bring the muscle, you bring the connections?"

  Cara's smile grows. "And we consolidate control over the stations."

  I scratch my chin, pondering. "Well, there's a setback at Europa, and I don't like Io; too much risk with the naval presence." If we get in a shootout with the Navy, we lose even if we get away.

  Cara waves a hand. "We don't need to take all of the stations, just get enough assets in place to exert influence. We've got a good presence on Ganymede," she says, waving a hand around. Eh, probably, but you're still looking over your shoulder. "We should consolidate the hold here and try to extend some sway over the civilian population at Callisto. If we get the public on board, we've half won," she adds.

  I click my tongue. "Europa and Io?"

  That earns me a snort. "The smallest and second smallest stations by population, by an order of magnitude," she says. I nod. Fair. "Io first; with the sailors flying in and out, and with their families following, a few new assets on the station won't raise any eyebrows. Save Europa for last; Ursa Miner itself isn't important aside from the package. Maybe even grab Titan first, if we're feeling bold. Then sweep the Kuiper, or at least the ice-harvesters."

  I tilt my head, weighing the idea. There's not much firepower out here; even a Corvette tops any civilian vessel. The Naval presence is intermittent; they're off chasing pirates. If we're quiet? Smart? Leveraging promises and recruiting aligned interests... maybe. "It'll take a long time. Years, if not decades," I point out. "And why would these Jovian hicks care about the Leagues goals? Most of these yokels have probably never seen a natural tree."

  The madam's jaw tightens. C'mon Cas, she's a local, be smarter. "I hope you're joking; there's an arboretum on this very station," she adds, and I raise a placating hand, nodding. "And even if the Jovian masses aren't gonna get their panties in a twist about the Gaian ecosystems dying out, they hate the Earth corporations. Arrogant, exploitative, keeping the outskirts of the Dark District locked in poverty..."

  That earns a chuckle from me. "Hah, so what, we pivot to revolutionaries?" Not a very lucrative profession.

  Cara leans closer. "I'm saying the Dark District has no love of Earth; their corps are exploiting us out here. The League fights Earth's exploitation of the ecosystem, which includes humans. We're just broadening the vision to bring in new support," she adds with a nod.

  I take another sip from my glass. The rum is much better than the gin. "It has merit. But there are some anti-league elements out here. If we make any big moves, they'll start screaming so loud Earth won't be able to miss it. We should clean the resistance out in advance." I snap two fingers together.

  The madam blanches. No stomach for wetwork? "We can't take out any targets that would provoke a Code Enforcement response."

  "Nothing government, agreed," I say, calculating. "With the influx of muscle from the Solar District, we'll sweep up civilian opposition first. Work our way up the ladder."

  Cara grins. "I advise we start supplying some of the Luddite groups on Callisto with some low-grade weapons, whatever we can spare. Stir up unrest against anyone solar-side or with augmentations. Get things in a lather, then start offering protection from the gangs."

  I raise an eyebrow. Protection rackets? "For a price, I assume."

  "No, for free," she says. When I frown, she continues, "we also start giving a little stored food to some of the refugees and homeless, and meds we can afford to spare. Nothing too valuable, maybe just the stuff nobody needs or is gonna to expire. Just enough to generate some trust and good-will. We paint ourselves as bastions of compassion and safety for the masses from the fringe groups while making those groups more dangerous."

  The idea clicks, and I do laugh now. "I get what you're selling. And we use the violence and riots as cover to eliminate opposition. Terrible tragedy, that the underfunded League trying to hold back the violence couldn't stop the killings. If only Earth cared what happened out in the Jovian, like we do, this would never happen. If we were in charge..." I say softly, mind racing. Yes, get the public to back us, support will flow locally.

  "Exactly." She leans back, smiling with me. "Grassroots recruitment will hit the roof. We'll have sympathetic elements on every station to hide us. Play the long game. Maybe even get enough pull to swing some local elections. I bet you'd do well as Governor of Callisto," she adds.

  I give her a knowing look. "Oh? And you'd be willing to take Ganymede, I suppose?"

  She spreads her arms wide. "I'm already set up deep here, after all."

  I lick my lips, shuffling futures in my mind. Promising. With the right connections... "It's a novel idea. A lot of moving parts, but it can work. We'll have to act fast; the situation isn't stable and could change on an atom."

  She nods. "As it happens, I've already planted some seeds that are taking root and have a good intel network. Everyone talks to my girls after a few drinks and a roll in the sheets, especially those Navy boys on leave," she says with a smidge of disdain.

  I reframe the idea and look at it from a few angles. What will go wrong first? Who will protest? What obstacles should we remove ahead of time? There are a few obvious candidates. "Well, we'll have to clear out some liabilities. Gaian's whose loyalties aren't pure... or are too pure." I say softly. Anyone with too much ambition, anyone too angry or stupid to play it smart. "Probably half a dozen on the shortlist."

  She sighs. "And some who've proven unreliable in the past. Speaking of Rusteater, the runner they recruited is loose in the wind. Add her to the list."

  Not so worried about using names now, are you? "You think she turned on them?"

  Cara shrugs. "She knows some of our agents, transported them. She's a loose end that they didn't clear up, one way or the other. She might even know about the package. Fucking squid," she spits.

  I feel my pulse quicken at those words. "That 'squid' might be the single most valuable lifeform any of us will ever see," I say softly. "The price we could get for its genome alone, from the right buyers? We could own Ursa Miner Station ten times over. A hundred times over."

  She gives me a blank look. "Why not just take your fancy gunship and cutthroats? Storm the station and take it?"

  Why not? I take a deep breath. Because greed kills, and patience rewards. Slow and steady, Cas. "No. For a number of reasons, potential Naval pursuit aside. This isn't a smash and grab job, especially with a fragile lifeform. And we don't want to draw attention to the package, or the moon. We don't want a gold rush... We play the long game on Europa, leave it for last, when we control the board. Focus on setting up the framework and planting the seeds now. We'll tie up loose ends on the other Jovian stations before it all hits the turbine. Take all our enemies out at once, before they can react. The violence ends with us in charge; it won't be long until the Jovian accepts the new normal." With our own hands kept clean, of course, I finish my drink, setting the glass down and pushing it away. "We'll own everything past Mars, for good."