As the ship descended and began to dock just outside Nova Atlantis' primary spaceport, a woman waited anxiously on the steps leading to the ground. Her bright, sunny demeanor and almost offensively stylish outfit clashed with the black-and-red war paint of the ship. Soon, a passenger exited the vessel, and recognition sparkled in her eyes as she cried out:

"Sa, Mary!"

"Sa! That's a good haul! Anything for me?"

"Oh, you betcha! Here, catch!"

She tossed a bag down the steps at Mary, and giggled as it hit her square in the face.

"Asshole! Well, let's see what you have..."

She opened the bag to reveal a sparkly green dress, complete with pockets.

"Ah-ha! Looking very Mater, thank you!"

"Hey, you know I always look out for my besties! It's my middle name, after all - "Sweets 'Giftgiver' Smith!"

The conversation was interrupted by a man being carried out on a stretcher, though Mary didn't know why. By the looks of it, a body bag would've served just as well.

"Oof. Who did that?"

"Some bumfuck merchants out of Lonestar. I tell you, every single time we hit them, they get more and more annoying. 'Waah, waah, we'll never surrender, remember the Alamo!' Blah, blah, blah. Dani got the one who did him in, though."

Mary laughed. Lonestar ships were always easy pickings, but they always put up a fight. They existed in something of a golden middle ground for Atlantis; too little money to afford proper guards or armor, but enough in cash and kind to feed a ship for months.

"Seems like those are all we hit these days. Say, you ever think about just selling them some water? It's not like we don't have any to spare, and it'd be a lot less risky."

"What, and make it so they can afford to hire mercs? Nah, I'll stick to living just like I have been."

Mary was persistent. "No, I'm serious! We'd make enough money that we wouldn't need to hit them anymore, and it'd give us the legitimacy we need to actually move some of this stuff for more than pennies on the dollar. You know, they have entire towns by the pole dedicated just to cracking those tiny little ice caps just to stay even remotely hydrated."

"It's not about the money, Mar. Look, if you wanna turn on your family's legacy, feel free, but I'm sticking with what I know. And what I know is that it doesn't matter how much money we make, so long as we're fed and fuelled."

Silence followed as they continued their trek home. Eventually, Sweets spoke up.

"Look, I'm sorry. I don't want to shoot down your dreams, I just... at least make sure you don't go rippin' parts out of the engine over what ends up being another 'Bird Suit', alright?"

Mary laughed at the memory - when she was little, she'd gone on a hunting trip with Sweets' family and somehow got it in her head that she ought to make a flying suit out of seal skin. All that it got her was a broken leg, bloody clothes, and yet another story for Sweets to hold over her head. 

"You're fine. Piracy's in your blood, and besides, it's not something I'd be able to set up. I'd need a captain to sign on, and they're even more sycophantic than you." 

"Syca-sy... syca-what? Get out of here with your fancy imperial words."

She hadn't meant it, but Sweets had cut deep with that one. She wasn't all too upset about her lost family, especially not after everything the Atlanteans had done for her. Still, the fact that she would never see the sunrise on the planet of her birth pained her more than any other part of the loss.

Still, there was nothing to be done. Even if she knew which planet her family hailed from, there's no way an Atlantean would be allowed anywhere close to Remnant space. She'd just have to give up on that dream, like all the rest.

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