《Boon, Bounty & Bad Decisions [An Ensemble Space Opera]》 Chapter 0: Space Opera Time Machine (Gravel) [Haret, Epsilon Eridani] C Year 2737
Rhyan Fagioli had never seen a woman constricted by a giant boa before in his life, and his first time just so happened to be on the one planet trying to murder him. The woman wasnt screaming, even as she was wrapped in the thick, crushing coils of a reptile that could have swallowed a grown man. That was the first thing that struck him as odd. Most people in her position would be yelling, begging, making desperate promises to gods that didnt listen. But she was fighting. The reptile had dragged her and seized her against a gnarled root of a giant tree, then immobilized one of her hands around its body. However, her other hand kept trying to force a blade between its overlapping scales. Her movement was getting more lethargic, and it was clear to him that she was losing the fight. For a while, he only watched. The boas movements were more sluggish than those on Earth, and its slow coils tightened in increments. It wasnt a reactionary predator. He curled his fingers as the inky Morkanium slithered through the veins on the back of his hand. The metal responded in erratic bursts, spreading unevenly along his wrist and rushing toward his elbow. Not where hed wanted. He clenched his fist and shook. The liquid metal dithered, as though unsure of his command, and then finally began to flow more evenly, though not without resistance. He sighed. The boas coils tightened, and with every constriction, she gasped for breath. But it seemed as though the oxygen wouldnt go anywhere near her lungs judging from the way no breath and no sound escaped her when her mouth gaped open. She slammed her knee into the creatures underbelly. It was a weak, desperate move, but it made the boa recoil. Her fingers trembled as she clawed at the beasts body with her free hand, scraping at the scales, creating grating skreeek sounds. The slight delay in the creatures movements was enough to help her gasp in a few ragged breaths. She was buying time. She must have seen him. Rhyan steadied his breathing. After a second of struggle, Morkanium seeped through his skin, then through his clothes, crawled up his arm in liquid threads before hardening into a serrated blade that extended from his forearm to his fingertips. It threaded through his ribs with a slow, uncomfortable drag, weaving an unseen lattice of protection, wrapped around his throat in a sheath as thin as breath yet dense as iron, and pooled over his abdomen like a second layer of hide. Protection. He wouldnt be reckless twice in a single day. Rhyan stepped closer. You need a hand, or you just testing your pain tolerance? She didnt look at him, gritting her teeth while grunting out words, Unless . . . youre cutting . . . the head off, youre in my way. That was the moment he decided to help. Not out of kindness, nor because it was the right thing to do. Just because she had the audacity to mouth off while half-crushed by a reptile the size of a city bus. One step. Then two. The beast didnt notice him. Its focus was entirely on the woman. Rhyan drove his Morkanium-coated hand straight into the reptiles skull. The blade sunk past bone and into the soft matter beneath. The boa seized. Its coils shuddered, the pressure around the womans body loosening. She wasted no timeshoving free, gasping for air as the creature spasmed and collapsed with a wet thud. The woman took a moment to recover. Still partially ensnarled in the slackening coils, she turned her head toward him and gave him the most scrutinizing squint despite the breathlessness in her voice. She then turned to his inky, blackened arm. Thanks. But . . . what kind of magic was that? she demanded. He flexed his fingers, and the Morkanium retracted from his hand like ink sliding backward, disappearing into his veins. He exhaled, brushing his arm off like he could wipe away the sensation. Wish I knew, he replied. They said Id find answers on this planet. Rhyan got a good look at the woman. Her copper-red hair was short, neat, and practical, as was the utility belt running across her chest and her scuffed gloves. She was lean and tall, possibly half a head taller than many women on Earth, and nearly as tall as Rhyan. However, the freckles which dotted the bridge of her nose alongside her round, almost doll-like eyes morphed her into something of a walking juxtaposition. Like a caricature, but a pretty good-looking one. His gaze drifted to the bulky contraption strapped to her back, something he had never seen before. At first glance, it resembled a standard backpack, but the rigid, segmented plating said otherwise. It lacked the usual buckles and zippers, and its smooth surface was interrupted only by a few barely visible seams. Vents designed to blend into the background lined the sides, yet no sound emanated from within. She coughed, rolling onto her side, one hand pressed to her ribs. And what did you find? Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Rhyan glanced at the dead reptile, then up at the thicket of trees swaying overhead. In the distance, the dreaded sound of approaching drones buzzed through the trees. His lips curled into almost amusement. Arrest warrants. She let out a humorless chuckle. Well, bad news for you then. She pushed herself up with a wince, dragging air back into her lungs. Theyre after me too. They referred to the local military of Tenoctlan, the country they were in. Rhyan looked her up and down. If Im not mistaken, they wear exactly the outfit youre wearing. She dusted herself off, glancing down at her frayed uniform. The fabric was torn at the shoulder where the reptile had coiled too tightly, and a dark smear of mud ran along the insignia at her chest. Another tear, near the upper side of her left arm, exposed a glimpse of ink. The design was striking: a swirling, interwoven pattern of dark lines and luminous silver accents. At its center lay a diamond-like shape, split down the middle by a thin, branching fissure, almost like veins in cracked glass. Surrounding it were arcs and sharp points that gave it a sense of movementlike a star mid-explosion, or a bird frozen in the instant of taking flight. It didnt look like any ink job hed seen before, and something about it sent a warning through his gut. A gang mark? A mercenary crest? Whatever it was, she didnt seem eager to explain. Rhyan raised an eyebrow. Deserter? Something like that. They dont like it when you walk away from the wrong mission. Rhyan had wondered why she seemed so casual, even now. Maybe that was the answer. Maybe shed already made peace with dying. The buzz of drones grew sharpened into an electric hum, the type that told Rhyan they were likely small quadcopters. He didnt think they were locked on yet, but that wouldnt last. Judging from her uniform, she seemed like she knew her way around, and he was, on the other hand, completely lost. Fantastic, he muttered, already moving. I came here for answers, and now Im getting dragged into treason. She huffed as she fell in step beside him. Nobody dragged you anywhere. You shouldve just let me die. He let out a sharp exhale. Maybe, but it wouldve been a pain to listen to you complain while you were suffocating. She almost let out a chuckle, but her legs were already pushing forward. Theyll send ground forces soon. We need to move. You have an exit from Manua? I do. I know a way off-world. That made her glance at him. Youre saying you got a bird waiting, right? Something like that. She must have noticed that he just mirrored her exact words from earlier, judging from the furrow of her brow. Before she could reply, the distant drone hum, for a split second, had become distorted. Rhyan deduced it was a frequency drop. They had lowered their altitude. The woman let out a prolonged hiss. Advance teams likely on the ground. If theyve got bio-scanners, were burning time. She crouched low, adjusting her weight before gesturing ahead. We move north. Old ceramic panels are there. They scatter infrared. As she spoke, the strange pack on her back shifted. Segmented plates clicked apart, unfolding like the limbs of an insect. A slender antenna extended upward, and immediately the air around it felt differentlike the atmosphere before an impending storm. What does that do? Now it was his turn to ask. It jams their standard signal, she replied. The military was using old-fashioned infrared, and she had that? It got him thinking about whether she had stolen some classified tech, if that tech was capable of disrupting the signal of the very military she served in. Manua, Harets biggest jungle, was nothing like the Earths Amazon. Not anymore. Humanitys old rainforest had been reduced to flattened land for the most colossal megastructure the planet had ever seen, only for the contractorThe South America Confed to plant a simulated forest atop the 48th floor of that very structure. Rhyan pushed aside a broad, waxy leaf, only to feel a stream of collected water spill down his forearm, soaking the sleeve of his jacket. He exhaled through his nose but kept moving, shaking off the droplets as best he could. The woman wasnt as lucky. As she stepped past a low-hanging vine, one of the curling thorns hidden beneath the foliage lashed out, jabbed through the fabric of her sleeve, and sliced a shallow line across her exposed wrist. She hissed, jerking her arm back as a single bead of blood welled at the cut. Those were the flora Rhyan would never have seen back in his hometown. Watch yourself, Rhyan muttered, swiping the vine aside with the back of his Morkanium-coated hand. The thick vine was promptly slashed in half, and the thorn next to it recoiled at the touch, snapping back into its curled position like it had never moved in the first place. Your magic is a killer, she said. It wasnt magic, though. Just science. It is. Sometimes, it was too good at killing. The last time he tried to pet a wild beast, he hadnt intended to kill it right after. His Morkanium claws had acted on their own, and the beast had, in fact, died. Turned out that beast wasnt a wild beast, but a local billionaires pet. That incident accounted for one of his arrest warrants. After a few minutes of silent running, she shot him a sideways glance. You never said why youre in this jungle. People dont simply end up in Manua. Rhyan didnt look at her as he leapt over a fallen branch. You never said why the militarys after you. She pursed her lips, then pouted, then clicked her tongue. Guess were both keeping secrets, then. Can I have a name, at least? What do people call you? A narrow stream trickled through the underbrush ahead, barely deep enough to wet his fingers. He took a good look around. Along its edge, small pebbles glistened under the dim jungle light, their surfaces smooth from years of water erosion. Gravel, he announced. He couldnt call himself Pebble. She raised an eyebrow as she turned back. Gravel? He nodded once. She studied him for a second, then let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. Alright, Gravel. She stopped for a few seconds. Im Felicia. That was the most Earthling-sounding name he had heard from a Haretian, which was not that strange, but was also strange enough considering the Earthlings hadnt moved to Haret until 300 years ago. She didnt offer a last name. He didnt ask. Where are you from, Gravel? Nobody on Haret speaks ISL*. Nobody names themselves in ISL, neither. She scrunched her nose as she took in a deep breath. Which planet spat you out? He kept walking. Youre a curious one. Maybe we save our ice-breaker for after weve booked ourselves tickets on our next inter-galaxy launch? Leaving this planet? I A shrill sound cut through her words, possibly from a recon drone, followed by the crackling murmur of ground team comms and the snapping of twigs and branches. Felicias posture shifted. Theyre sweeping left. Cutting off our exit. Rhyan released a breath, adjusting his stance as his other arm hardened into a Morkanium projectile shooter. He tested the weight. Well, fellow criminal. I reckon were quite short of options. They ran. Chapter 1: Space Opera Sabertooth Tigers [Namor-4, Gliese 9037] C Year 2749
What a bad fucking day to get mangled by a sabertooth tiger, Gravel said as the creature tossed him into the air. The mission had been simple: retrieve a data drive from an old research facility deep in the Namorian wildlands. Get in, grab the package, get out. Sure, the place was crawling with mutated creatures, thanks to some very shady, completely unethical experiments within the very same facility; but sabertooth tigers? That hadnt been in the briefing. Gravel barely had a moment to regret his life choices before gravity reasserted itself, yanking him back downstraight toward the tigers hungry jaws. He knew he wouldnt be able to form a protective layer of inky Morkanium in time. He scrambled backward, his hand instinctively reaching for the sidearm at his belt, but the beast was faster. It lunged, its jaws snapping shut around his leg. Despite his unintentional aerial acrobatics, his wavy, well-gelled hair maintained its shape. At least Ill look good when I die. The beast leaped forward to deliver Gravel his final death, but then was promptly turned into a donut by the beam of a laser gun. Injured anywhere? The young redhead, who creatively nicknamed herself Hunter, reloaded her still-sizzling gun, freckles stark against her pursed lips. Having been partners-in-crime for twelve yearssix years as the (in Gravels words) infamous Galaxy Grazers duotheir bickering had reached telepathic levels. If only the same could be said for their coordination. Or their ability to manage their finances. It was one of the reasons they brought Priest into their setup six years back. They were fortunate that such a capable man was somehow in an even worse state than they were when the three met. Youre going to have to sell your ship for scraps in a year if you keep this up, Priest had informed them within the first month of joining. His voice had been as detached as ever, but even he couldnt hide the faint incredulity at their financial situation. The numbers werent great. They werent even bad. They were catastrophic. Which was why they had started taking on riskier and riskier jobs. This was only their third ground mission, and the last two were simple escort tasks. Fuck, man, this thing probably ruined my favorite jacket. Gravel groaned, sprawled out on the dirt, staring up at the smoke curling from the tigers smoldering remains and the bite-mark on his synth-leather clothing. But Ill live. He sucked in a breath, sharp and shaky. His body buzzed with pain that hadnt fully registered yet. He tried moving his fingers. Nothing. His gut twisted. Not good. Sit down. Hunters voice cut through the ringing in his ears. His head rolled to the side, catching her wide-eyed stare. Panic wasnt a look that suited him. Hey, Gravel rasped. Yknow, I think my spines on strike. His voice was coarser than normal. The woman exhaled, but what came out wasnt relief. She scanned the surroundings as she yanked a medkit from the belt where her tool pouch usually was. She pulled out a syringe and drove the needle onto his back. If the damage was only tissue-deep, the stimulant should kick in in seconds. Then she spoke into her comms, to their third teammate, Gravels banged up, but conscious. Tigers dead. No other hostiles. Yet. Still no response from Priest. She muttered, Ive told Gravel so many times why on-ground coordination sims are important, then switched her comms to a direct line. Priest, talk to me. Gravels eyes slip shut. He could feel the warmth of his own blood seeping into his jacket. Of course, it had to be the expensive synth-grade bioluminescent leather jacket. He forced a smirk. Tell him if he could fix my fucking spine while hes at it, thatd be great. He said hell be here in Another sabertooth tiger, this one twice as ugly and three times as pissed, lunged from the underbrush, fangs bared at Hunter. Gravels smirk was gone. She flicked her wrist and fired. The laser shot lanced through the air, but the beast twisted mid-leap, dodging it. Shit, she rolled to the side. The tigers claws tore through where shed been standing. It wasnt the first time her unnatural reflexes had saved her life. Whatever they had done to her on her home planet Haret, it stuckturbo, instinctual, and always just enough to keep her alive. Gravel, still half-paralyzed, groaned. Diamond armor. Hit the flank. She sidestepped another swipe, firing again. This time, the shot sliced through the tigers unarmored flank, leaving a gaping, seared hole. The creatures muscles rippled as it staggered. But its eyes blazed. It wasnt backing down. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The shit is this thing on? Hunter muttered. It shouldve dropped. Gravel struggled to push himself up on his elbows, which sent a lightning bolt of agony down his spine. Priest, if you dont get your holy ass over here . . . A metallic voice crackled in his earpiece. Patience, my child. Gravel let his head drop back onto the dirt. I swear . . . He couldnt think of anything clever to say other than to grunt the pain away. The tiger roared. Its crystalline hide shimmered, and Gravel could see distorted glimpses of two humans in its multi-faceted plates. It crouched, eyes locked on the redhead. Hunter flicked a glance at the space behind her. Their help was on the way. A streak of blinding blue light emerged, followed by a rumble. A column of energy slammed into the ground ten feet from them, scattering dust, debris, and the remnants of the first tiger. The force sent the second beast skidding back, disoriented. From the fading glow, a figure emerged. Draped in a long, weathered coat, his mechanical arms gleaming under the twin moons, and a near-transparent, hovering visor-shaped holo-screen covering his face, Priest stepped forward. His cybernetic limbs whirred as he stretched his fingers, scanning the scene with his glowing eyes. His skin was chalky grey and his irises were silver, telling signs he wasnt fully human, if one couldnt tell from the mechanical limbs and a metallic plate covering the left side of his chest. A fresh bruise darkened his jaw, and scratch marks ran along the plating of his left arm. He was lanky, unnervingly so, with a presence that could only be described as clean and clinical, almost intimidating in its precision. His new and deliberate side-parted hairstyle gave him an entirely different air. Gone was the slightly frizzy look that had once softened his features; now, he looked like a man meticulously put together, as if every strand of hair and every inch of his cyborg body had been calibrated for effect. Gravel rolled his eyes. Oh, good. You made an entrance. Fantastic. Now fix my damn backargh! Hes just screamed, Priest. This isnt good, Hunter stepped in front of Gravel, shielding him from a potential jump from mutated beasts. Excuse my lateness, Priest replied. I was held back. The tiger shook off its disorientation with a growl, its diamond-plated hide gleaming with residual energy from Priests blast. It wasnt dead. It was angry. Arcs of blue light blazed between Priests fingers as he raised a hand. The tiger scrunched its nose, let out a deafening snarl, and lungedright as Priest snapped his fingers. The air rippled. The tiger froze mid-leap, its eyes widened as a layer of ice formed between the gaps of its plating and seized its limbs. But then it twitched. A single claw jerked, then another. The ice cracked as fractures raced across its armored hide. Priest stretched his hand forward as fast as he could. A claw shot forward, muscles seizing as its cracked joints moved. Then the creature slammed into a tree with bone-rattling force. Its body shattered. Only then did Priest heave a sigh. Gravel whistled. Alright, fine. That. Was cool. Hunter snickered before stopping, seeing Gravel didnt laugh along. She said, You realize he just froze a tiger, right? Gravel blinked. Oh, shit, I did a pun. The effect itself was supposed to be gravity manipulation, and the freezing was unintentional; a side effect, as Priest often said. Gravel told him it was more a feature than a bug. Priest stayed silent as he scanned the area with his visor. He nodded to Hunter, signaling that he didnt detect any other hostile, but she held her weapon close to her instead. If Priest was to heal Gravel, she needed to be on guard. Priest dropped to one knee behind Gravel. His cybernetic fingers sparked with bioelectric energy, sending controlled pulses into Gravels spinal column. Wow. Can you switch to the normal fingers, Priest? Gravel whispered. That kinda creeps me out. His robotic arms looked, well, robotic, and not an uncommon sight, but what was uncommon was the unsettling sharpness of the contours of his fingers. Priest could accidentally turn Gravels back into a public display of organs and spines while trying to give it a scratch. Fortunately, the pointed fingers were retractable, easily swapped out for normal, human-looking ones. Of course, Priest gave him no such luxury. At first, the pain sharpened, and a fresh wave of fire coursed straight down his nerves. Gravel gritted his teeth, his fingers twitching in the dirt. Still feeling that? Priest asked as he adjusted the current. Like youre welding my bones back together, Gravel muttered, voice tight. Priest pressed down on Gravels shoulder when the latter instinctively tried to shift his weight. It is just nerve trauma. Your spine wasnt broken. Just a deep tissue shock. You will heal fully. Hunters posture relaxed. Damn it, Priest, lead with that next time. Priest didnt reply. The sharp burn dulled into an almost pleasant numbness. Sensation slowly crawled its way back to Gravels legs, and he let out a slow sigh. Fixed, Priest muttered. Now stop whining, child. Gravel flexed his fingers, then pushed himself onto his elbows. Thanks. Old man saves the day again. Priest gave a slight nodhis version of youre welcome. That is all I can do for now. Do not get hit again. He gave Gravel support as the latter pulled himself up. The research facility is half a kilometer west. We should move. Hunter finally holstered her gun. About time. Lead the way, oh holy one. With a last glance at the bodies behind them, the trio moved deeper into the jungle. Chapter 2: Space Opera Tentacle Fantasies Beneath the expansive, verdant canopy, shadows danced over their path. Haunting echoes of unspeakable mutations weighted down the air, their cries reverberating from unseen corners of the wilderness. Particularly unsettling to Gravel was the chittering click of something with far too many teeth gnashing together in rapid succession, as if it were tasting the air, or worse, testing how his name would sound rolling off its tongue. But then another creature let out what could only be described as a deflating squeak, like someone stepping on an old accordion. Nature was balancing itself out. All was good. Gravel was sure Hunter wouldve complained about how this planet had wasted its potential if she was in the mood for chatting. Being just far enough from its star, Namor-4 was one of those planets with better climates for life. But the lifeforms here, for some reason, were designed for hostilities. Gravel wasnt thinking about animals. There weren''t a lot of animals that didnt fall into predator/prey categories, which would both be hostile. Unless planets were specifically filled with docile creatures, which they were not. He was thinking plants. Plants werent just plants. Some pulsed faintly in a rhythm not too dissimilar from breathing. Some folded inward at the first sign of movement. Others dripped nectar so sweet it could lure prey into a slow, dreamy death. Artificially bioluminescent fungi clung to the gnarled trees, illuminating the darkened path. Thick vines coiled around ancient trunks, their surfaces slick with an iridescent, almost organic sheen, as though they were more muscle fiber than plant. Somewhere in the distance, something large crashed through the underbrush, but it either hadnt noticed them or wasnt interested. Yet. Everything was malformed. It wouldve been obvious to an outside observer, if there were any, that this crew either had a mortal aversion to silence or a compulsive need to fill every available second with noise. Keeping up a constant stream of chatter was generally frowned upon by professional ground teams, especially during tense moments where one would need utmost concentration. But the Black Fang had never claimed to be professionals, nor did they spend much time with their boots on solid ground. Arguing amongst themselves was much easier when they had a ships ceiling above their heads. They passed a tangle of vines, curling as they moved by. Hunter looked down at the fungi below and asked, Do you think this mushroom is edible? Gravel replied, Dont. Last time you asked if we could breathe in the spores on Carthos-7 . . . Listen, the spores smelled like citrus, and I You hallucinated for six hours, Hunter. I didnt. And Im not unreasonable for assuming citrus-smelling things are non-hallucinogenic, she muttered, stepping over a gnarled root pulsing faintly with bioluminescence, Not my fault every godforsaken planet we step foot on is always out to kill us. Not every planet, Gravel retorted. Just most of them. Priest, walking ahead with his cybernetic fingers trailing over the interface on his wrist device, spoke without looking up. Statistically speaking, 83% of unregulated frontier planets contain hazardous ecosystems hostile to human life. So it is not just your luck. It is probability. Woo-hoo, Gravel said. I love being a statistic. He then nudged Priest with his elbow. Has the kid caught up to us? The kid he was referring to was Hua Fang, their pilot. At only seventy-five years old (in a world where living until 300 was normal for a human being), her inexperience was obviousif not from her flying, then from the fact that shed chosen her own name as her codename instead of coming up with something cool and swag, like Hunter. Priest simply put his index finger close to his mouth, the universal silence sign among Earthlings. Having had a human father, Priest was well-acquainted with humankind etiquette. As they trudged through the underbrush, Gravel took stock of their situation. His spine was back in working order (thanks to Priests miracle hands, which were less of a miracle and more concentrated energy blast of bioactive compound Regen303) but the dull ache in his limbs reminded him that hed probably need a proper visit to the med bay after this job. If they survived. Gravel tapped his earpiece. Fang, you there? A burst of static crackled in his ear before a bright, chipper voice responded. You rang? Status? Circling above, waiting for you slowpokes. Got a bit of turbulence A loud thud interrupted her, followed by a string of Mandarin curses. Okay, more than a bit. Something just latched onto my hull. Not a fan of that. Do I even want to know what it was? Gravel asked. I dunno, it had tentacles and a real bad attitude. Fucking wonderful. Gravel sighed. Just stay airborne and be ready for evac. You caught us at a good time, Flower. Did you know Gravel moaned for an hour straight because he got his back scratched by a kitty cat? Hunter chimed in. My codename is Fang, Hunter. Fang! Fang near-shouted over comms. Nobody chooses their real name as their alias, Fang. Im protecting your identity. Your full alias is Bounty Hunter, Hunter. I think I can chill with the naming. Who heres gonna care what the kid calls herself, Hunter? Gravel pointed to the glowing mushroom. Because that thing aint. Right, sure. You two gonna team up on me, huh? You won this round. Hunter stretched, clearly unbothered. Lets get to the damn facility before something with more tentacles decides we look tasty. I thought youd like that, Gravel smirked, only to be met with the most hateful, disdainful glare hed ever seen in his life. Sushi, I mean! I thought you liked sushi. Shut up, Hunter snarled at him. You two stop bickering this instant, Priest commanded. As boisterous as the two could be when they were together, they knew when to shut up and not get on Priests bad side. The silhouette of the research facility loomed ahead, barely visible through the thick vegetation. Built decades ago by the Namorian Science Division, it had now been abandoned after their experiments, whatever they were, went catastrophically wrong. The letters had either fallen off, or were ripped off of the sign atop the front entrance by some massive creature looking for a chew toy, leaving only S, C and a reversed D hanging. Stolen story; please report. The client, McPherson, the off-world corporate bigwig of all off-world corporate bigwigs, had been particularly vague on the details of the drive Gravels team was supposed to retrieve, which meant one thing. Whatever was on that drive was valuable enough to kill for. They would also be paid seventy million ducats upon completing the mission, and that was enough for them to take it upon themselves without further question. Such was the life of bounty hunters. The trio crouched near the tree line, surveying the facility from a safe distance. The place was a messrusted security fences overgrown with vines, collapsed watchtowers, and a main entrance half-buried under decades of creeping vegetation. Yet, something still lingered beneath the surface. Faint, flickering red lights lined the perimeter. An old security system? Maybe. But Gravel had been in this business long enough to know that just because a place looked dead didnt mean it was dead. Priest knelt beside him, cybernetic fingers tapping against his wrist device. Heat signatures. Three, maybe four moving inside. Non-human. Mutated? Hunter asked, gripping her gun. Possibly. Priests eyes flickered. Or automated. Some old versions of mech have unique heat signatures when powered. Gravel clicked his tongue. Great. Could be feral lab experiments, could be security drones still running on emergency power. You managed to make it sound boring, said Hunter. Oh, I know how to make it sound better. They might have tentacles. He studied her as her dissatisfaction turned into audible growls inside her throat. You know the teasing gets funnier the more you refuse to deny it, right? I am not into sushi, she said. A floodlight snapped on from a rusted tower with a clang. Fucking fuck fuck! Gravel hissed, diving behind the nearest tree. The ground trembled. A deep, metallic groan echoed through the facilitys ruins that sent all the birds flying away, followed by the sound of hydraulics whining to life. Then came the thuddingheavy, deliberate footfalls. Priest was already moving. Weve been made. A section of the facilitys outer wall shifted, revealing a hidden entrance. From the yawning abyss emerged something massiveeight feet tall, humanoid in shape, but unmistakably synthetic. A security mech, its body plated in corroded black armor, worn by time and tropical rot. But despite the decay, its single eye still burned bright red, and the twin rotary cannons mounted on its arms span up with a grizzly whir. Shitmech! Hunter snapped, instincts kicking in as she dove for cover. A hail of bullets ripped through the trees, shredding bark and foliage into an explosion of splinters and smoke. Gravels pulse spiked. He hit the ground, adrenaline drowning out the pain. His fingers twitchedthank fuck, still moving. He gritted his teeth, pushing past the sharp pang in his lower back. This was defo not on the briefing, he groaned. Their client would have to give them another twenty millions, at least. Move! Priest barked, already shoving Gravel deeper into the underbrush. Hunter sprinted sideways, zigzagging to avoid the incoming fire as she drew her gun. I dont suppose that things got an off switch? Yeah, Gravel grunted, hitting the dirt as rounds whizzed past his head. Its called blow it to fuckin pieces! The mech stomped forward, its metal frame creaking with each step. Its red optics flickered, scanning the jungle for its targets. Then, without warning, a cylindrical compartment on its shoulder hissed open. Missiles. How 2500, Gravel muttered. Twin projectiles shot out, cutting through the dawn sky with eerie precision. The first one spiraled toward Hunter. Without breaking stride, she vaulted over a fallen tree and twisted midair. Her gun flareda single shotstriking the missiles casing just as it neared her. The explosion sent her rolling across the ground, but she was alive. The second missile screamed toward Gravel and Priest. Priest raised his other cybernetic hand. Blue energy crackled to life. With a sweep of his fingers, the missiles trajectory warped. It veered off course and smashed into the facilitys outer wall. The impact shook the ground, sending debris raining down. Gravel? Hunter crawled from the ground. Nows the time for a tanker. A chunk the size of a motorcycle hurtled toward Gravel. He raised an arm and swiped it aside like a thrown can. Okay, I felt that one, he admitted, shaking his hand loose. The mech, struggling against its damaged servos, whirred back to life. Despite its battered frame, its eye flared red again, and a low, synthetic growl rumbled from its speakers. It wasnt done yet. Neither was Gravel. Alright, you tin-plated shitstain, he muttered, cracking his knuckles. You wanna go? Lets go. Before Hunter or Priest could react, Gravel charged. The mech swung a massive arm at him. Fast, but not fast enough. Gravel ducked low, shoulder-checking its rusted knee joint with enough force to dent the armor. The machine staggered, drowned under the flashes of its own red lights. Hunter groaned, already swapping mags, repositioning behind it. Priest, standing off to the side, shot her a glance before deciding to keep watch for other hostiles instead. Hunter lined up a headshot. But she did not shoot. Gravel was doing fine. The mech tried to counter, raising one of its rotary cannons point-blank. Too late. Gravel seized the entire arm, his bulging muscles hardening into pitch-black as he ripped it clean off with a metallic screech. Morkanium was the name. Nobody else in this galaxy could control this material the way Gravel could. Ten times harder than diamond with only a fraction of the weight, he claimed. If only he was able to coat it around his skin faster than the sabertooth tigers pounce earlier. Mind lending me an arm? He grunted, flipping the severed limb in his hands like a club. The mech reeled, sparks spraying from its damaged joint. It lunged, swinging wildly. Gravel caught the punch with one hand, fingers crushing the metal as if it were wet clay. His Morkanium-infused muscles tensed like coiled steel cables, and when his fist connected, the kinetic energy traveled up his arm like a hammer striking an anvil. With a grunt of effort, he twistedsnapping the mechs remaining arm at the elbow. Hunter whistled. Damn, boulder boy. That is not how physics works. Gravel took a step back, wound up, and swung the severed cannon arm like a baseball bat. The hit sent the mech airborne. The eight-foot war machine crashed into a nearby tree, embedding itself in the trunk with a deafening crunch. For a second, it twitched, motors whirring in protest. Then its eye spasmed one last time before going dark. Gravel exhaled. Handled that. He tossed the broken cannon aside, dusting off his hands. Hunter and Priest just stared. What? Gravel frowned. You saw the size of those rounds. It wasnt gonna run out of ammo. Figured Id just take the whole damn thing apart. At least tell us what youre gonna do, Captain, Hunter exhaled. You always do this. You never remember my birthday, but I do expect you to remember were a team. Gravel was the Captain of the Black Fang, at least in name. He enjoyed being the public face of the crewsoaking up the attention, the occasional compliments, and the hassle that came with it. But out on the ground, formal titles melted away. Authority here wasnt handed down from some chain of command; it was claimed by whoever could best read the situation. As the old saying went, a sergeant in motion outranks a captain whos still figuring out the plan. And Gravel? He was always in motion. They were more like a group of crewmates rather than a rigid hierarchy. Or, in other words, a bunch of chaotic, self-destructive goofballs. Before Gravel could respond, the ground trembled beneath them. Faint, then rumbling. The trees rustled as something heavy moved in the distance. Hunter snapped her gun up, eyes narrowing. Tell me that thing didnt just call for backup. Priest adjusted his wrist device, scanning the area. His resting face did not do well to disguise the concerns in his eyes. More heat signatures. Larger. Fantastic, Gravel muttered. He rolled his shoulders, still feeling the residual heat from his fight with the mech, then let out a hiss after a pang to his lower back. How much larger? A guttural bellow cut through the jungle, sending a pack of mutated deer stampeding away. Then, through the vines and glowing fungi, they saw it. Chapter 3: Space Opera Hulk Another mech stood, at least fifteen feet tall, with its rusted frame covered in jagged plating. Unlike the first, this one wasnt humanoidit moved on six reinforced legs, insectoid in its motion, and its primary weapon was no rotary cannon. It was a plasma cannon. A big one. That much larger. Priest pointed towards the cannon. Thanks for the info, said Gravel. Wait . . . mumbled Hunter. Thats no antique. Thats a Spider, sponsored by the Republic. Old model, but still. Why is it here? The Republic, a militarized giant extending its reach across star systems with a mix of economic dominance and brute force, had clawed its way up from the ashes of the Old World, dragging along a few questionable fashion trends and an unhealthy obsession with chrome-plated everything. Its first leader, Onma Fun, had branded it as a beacon of order and stability that would stretch across lawless wastelands in a hundred years. It had been more than a hundred years since that promise; no such luck. If anything, the battleground had merely shifted from those with guns to those in suits. So of course they introduced more guns to counteract the political warfare! The latest iteration of elite forces with the most boring name conceivable, the Enforcers, wielded cutting-edge tech. Their war machineslike the six-legged mech currently sizing them upwere the pinnacle of modern combat engineering when they were first released. At least this model was released over a hundred years back, so handheld weapons and bioengineering integrations had had time to catch up. One thing that was actually on the briefing: this planet wasnt supposed to be on the map. It wasnt supposed to be within the Republics jurisdiction. Gravel sighed. Our contractor has some real explaining to do. With a sharp whir, its plasma cannon adjusted, locking onto the trio. Then it opened fire. A blinding white-hot blast tore through the foliage, disintegrating trees and sending a shockwave through the ground. Gravel darted away. Hunter hit the dirt. The beam scorched the earth. Ash and molten debris rained down. Too close. Not cool! Hunter coughed, rolling to her feet. That thing doesnt do warning shots. Typical Republic. Shoot first, ask never, said Gravel. Priest tapped a command into his wrist device. Energy signature confirms itfully charged and military-grade. It has enough firepower to blow up a quarter of a mini-tank. He had occasionally made odd and unhelpful comparisons, and this was amongst the better ones. Great, Gravel muttered. How do we kill it? Hunters gaze darted to the cannon. That thing has a charge cycle, right? I fought against one when I was conscripted. We bait the next shot, then hit it when it cools. Gravel sighed as Morkanium crawled its way onto his chest, and spread around like vines on a tree bark. Ill do it. Gravel had lived with this mutation for nearly two decadeseight years longer than the crew had even existed. He knew of the limit as to how much Morkanium he could draw from his body, and for how long. But what he did not know was if it could tank a plasma ray. Against weapons of this caliber, hed always chosen the option any sane person would: run. The crew knew Gravel could absorb heat, laser fire, and even standard plasma bursts. But this? This was concentrated plasma on a whole other level. It was over 400 megajoules. Per shot. If that was a railgun, it could liquefy an unprotected human. He should be able to withstand this amount of energy, in theory. Hed tested it in simulations. Priest and Hunter scattered with careful movements to not trigger the mechs lock-on system. There might have been a better solution, but they couldnt think of one now. The mechs plasma cannon let out a high-pitched whine as its core pulsed with blinding energy. Gravel growled as loudly as he could, Shoot here, you overgrown toaster! A heartbeat later, a searing bolt of blue-white plasma erupted from the barrel, streaking toward them like a miniature sun. It hit Gravel square in the chest. For a split second, everything went white. Time unraveled in jagged pieces. The roar of Infernals Fall, heat peeling at his skin. Hunters strangled gasps as the vines closed around his throat in Haretthe first time their paths crossed. The rough cheers of the crew as they christened their new ship. And before all of it, shadows of faces he barely remembered. Then came the impacta tidal wave of force and heat that should have turned him to ash. The acrid stench of scorched metal filled the air with a burning tang that clawed at Gravels throat. His body locked up, the blackened material of his mutation drinking in the raw energy like a bottomless pit. His vision blurred and his nerves screamed. He fell to the ground. When the plasma dissipated, smoke curled from his skin. The jungle floor beneath him had been reduced to molten slag, and residual static had filled the air in its place. Gravel exhaled, steam venting from his mouth. Holy shit, Hunter whispered from her hiding spot. Priest, emerging earlier from behind a boulder, already shot at the Mech with the plasma beam from his cyborg hand. Scanning its weak points. Hunter. Shoot! Sorry, she pulled out her laser gun and shot. It was a heavily modified piece of hardware that barely resembled its original model from McPherson. The standard emitter had been swapped out for a high-output crystal chamber with the chief purpose of amplifying each shots power without increasing energy drainage. A compact energy modulator had been integrated along the side, connecting to another custom energy modulator, with a couple of wires haphazardly soldered in place. Upgraded as it was, the weapon could in no way damage the mech. Gravel flexed his fingers as he sat, joints popping like firecrackers. The power thrummed inside him; wild, untamed. His muscles felt heavier; charged. He clenched his fists, and the energy surged through his arms, crackling like bottled lightning. A slow grin spread across his face. He rumbled, You see that? I ate that shit like His grin faltered. A sudden wave of exhaustion crashed over his body. His arms jerked as residual static danced over his skin. His limbs felt like lead, his chest ached like hed been sucker-punched by a freight train. His mutation had held, sure, but now he felt the cost. The spider-like mech took another step, its six legs hissing with hydraulic pressure as it adjusted its stance. Its plasma cannon began cycling again, and the whine of its charging core sent a fresh chill down Gravels spine. He clenched his fists, preparing for another hit, but his gut screamed at him. Do not be a proper bonehead and just scram. Priest said, Scanning its weak points. Shoot the joints for now. Guys, we gotta run. Gravel shook off the dizziness. I cant tank another shot without my organs turning into soup. Priests fingers moved over his wrist device in rapid strokes. The drive. He flicked through his scanner. Signal is faint. Twenty meters north, inside that structure. He pointed at the crumbling remains of a bunker, half-covered in moss and vines. Right next to the killer mech. Gravel had asked Priest no less than three times to convert from metric to imperial measurements. He never did. The mechs cannon flared again. Gravel craned his head toward Priest. Split? Priest replied, Split. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The trio split, dodging as the mech let loose another searing blast. Gravel barely avoided the shockwave as it obliterated a nearby tree, sending burning shards of wood flying in all directions. They sprinted toward the bunker. Hunters breath came in ragged gasps, and even Priests usually calm demeanor was cracked by an iota of concern. Gravel lagged behind by a couple steps. The mech pivoted. Another charge cycle began. Hunter gritted her teeth. Priest, he barked. Give me something. Anything. Priests scanner glowed once. Fuel cells. Back legs. Weak points. Good enough. Gravel tensed, ready to act, but stepped back as he saw Hunter moving. She slung her rifle over her shoulder and reached for something strapped to her belt: a glossy black tube with glowing blue seams. She flicked a switch, and the tube expanded with a sharp clack, forming a compact but deadly launcher. There was always something strapped to that adaptable belt of hers, whether it be a tool pouch, a pineapple, or a microchip extractor. It just happened that today she had a weapon of mass destruction along that sash, one that never seemed to run out of space. Gravels eyes widened. Is that A micro-fusion spike missile the size of a gun. A one-time use projectile that should cost her more than her old squads entire gear budget. It shouldve been an overkill otherwise, but her over-preparedness had saved them more often than not. Hunter only flashed him a confident smile. Then she dropped to one knee and locked onto the mechs back legs. The eight-legged mechs cannon whined like a kettle left on too long; its charge cycle punctuated by a series of unnecessary beeps and flashing lights, a relic of antiquated models. Hunter silently counted the seconds, tracking the pattern. One, two, three. She shifted her weight. It was luck that this mech was still an earlier version that still had an audible charge cycle that she could react to. It was moments from another shot. One they wouldnt escape unscathed. Hunter exhaled slowly. One shot. She squeezed the trigger. With a muted thunk, the missile shot forward, leaving a faint blue trail in its wake. It buried itself deep into the mechs back leg, right above the fuel cell casing. For a split second, nothing happened. ThenBOOM. The explosion was sharp and precise, a focused detonation that sent a shockwave through the jungle. The mech reeled, its two damaged legs buckling beneath it. Hydraulic fluid and sparks sprayed from the wound as it stumbled. Its plasma cannon jerked upward, but immediately rotated to try and lock in their targets again. This time, it missed Priest by a few feet. Looks like that thing skipped leg day. Priest? Whats its status? Gravel asked. Priests visor could gauge the damage with reasonable accuracy, and it would return results in the best way he knewstatistics. Priests visor lit up, the electronic display engaging as if in response to an unseen command. [Damage Analysis Overlay: ACTIVE] Target Integrity: 89% 49% Critical Damage Detected: Right rear hydraulic stabilizer Fuel Cell Containment: Compromisedleakage detected Movement Impairment: 60% reduction in stability Its movement is impaired, he said. Hunter grinned, tossing the now-empty launcher aside. That should keep it in place. With the mech struggling to stabilize, the trio sprinted toward the bunker. The entrance was just ahead, with vines twice as thick as those on Earth draping over its rusted doorway. Priest reached it first, keying in a command to his wrist device. The old security panel flickered to life, struggling to process his override. Behind them, the mech forced itself upright with a stifled mechanical soundthough it shouldnt have made any sound at all. Something had probably broken. Its plasma cannon dimmed, switching instead to rapid-fire railguns mounted along its chassis. Seemed like the instability meant that it would take a while until it could use its cannon again. A burst of metal slugs tore through the jungle, shredding trees and punching craters into the earth. Gravel grabbed Hunter and shoved both of them flat against the bunkers outer wall as rounds slammed into the structure. Concrete and rusted steel groaned under the assault. A beep followed. Priest shoved the door open. Inside! Now! They scrambled through just as another railgun volley slammed into the doorway. Gravel spun and slammed the reinforced hatch shut, locking it with a heavy clang. However, the panel flickereddamaged from the assault. The auto-lock wasnt engaging. Damn it, he growled, yanking open the maintenance panel beside the door. A tangle of old wires and half-corroded circuits greeted him. Priests scanner lit up. Manual overrides shot. Move. I will force an emergency lockdown. As Priest switched position with Gravel, Gravel handed him his Morkanium knife. He ripped out a dead relay, bypassed a fried security lock, and jammed the knife between two exposed contact points. Sparks jumped as the system fought him. [SECURITY OVERRIDE ENGAGED] The lock ground into place with a deep, mechanical thud. A second later, reinforced barriers slammed down over the entrance. The only sound was their ragged breathing. Gravel paused, his hand shaking slightly as he wiped the sweat from his brow. I almost thought that was it, he admitted. Hunter, leaning against the bunker wall, simply nodded. Your bravados not on point today. Were not taking another seventy million ducat mission after this. At least not for the rest of the year. He flashed a half-grin. A beat passed. Behind him, Hunter returned Gravels grin with a smirk. You know what, boulder boy? You were pretty cool back there. Nah. He smirked back. If anything, I was pretty hot. 1000 degrees Celsius hot, to be exact. She leaned in and made the face of an inquisitive childeyes open wide like a deer, mouth slightly parted. I still cant believe any propertyeven a man-made one like thisis able to absorb that much energy. A single, dusty light bulb shuddered to life. The light pulsed unevenly, casting a pallid, sickly illumination that did little to dispel the shadows. Then it turned off. Not the time to be curious, Hunter, Gravel replied. His comm crackled to life. Well, well, a familiar voice shit through the static. Let me guess. Getting all cozy in an abandoned bunker? Should I leave you two alone? Gravel exhaled slowly. Fang. Hunter rolled her eyes. You mind cutting the chatter for a few minutes? We almost died. Fangs tone didnt lose its edge, but it was more controlled. Sorry; didnt know that. But we can all cry about it laterright now, weve got another problem. A serious one. Gravel pinched the bridge of his nose. You mean, aside from the giant murder-spider outside? Youre not the only ones being harassed. Somethings jamming my approach. I cant get a clean landing, and Id rather not find out how many missiles the Republic stuffed into that thing. Priest had already stood, observing the funereal space before them. The air was stale, thick with dust and the faint metallic tang of oxidized steel. The walls were lined with rusted conduits and darkened panels. Their surfaces slick with moisture that glistened faintly in the absence of light. He dimmed his visor so his enhanced vision could get to worka perk of being half-Vorlani. Vorlani had scotopic vision, and even though Priest didnt inherit much of that, he could still see better than normal humans. He found a switch, but before he could study it more closely, it emitted a click on its own. The light wavered unevenly, casting a pallid, sickly glow that barely grazed the edges of the shadows. He walked back to them. The Republic never sends just one mech. Keep walking. Hunter pushed off the wall and adjusted her rifle strap. Im surprised this place still has power at all, she murmured. Who maintained it? And why? Not the time for conspiracy theories, Priest was right behind her, fingers dancing over his wrist device. You have to ask questions when youre in these kind of places, she replied. Gravel stayed at the rear, sweeping his gaze over the narrow hallway. Priest, where to? He asked, keeping his voice low. Priest tapped a few commands. Schematics show a main server room deeper inside. Any other surprises we should worry about? Hunter asked. Priests brow furrowed. Do you count automated defenses as a surprise? Hunter groaned. They really left traps in an abandoned building. A sudden clunk echoed down the corridor. Everyone tightened their grip on their weapons. A faint mechanical whirr followed. A servo motor spun to life, metal shifting against metal. Then the hallway lights flickered, weak at first, then stronger, bathing the corridor in an eerie, pale-blue glow. Motion sensors, though very small, Priest muttered. Something knew they were here. Gravel exhaled. Ill tank. Stay behind and recoup, Priest reminded. Remember sequences of engagement in case your armor is semi-compromised. Right. Gravel regretted not doing the training drill at least three more times. He had forgotten the first lesson of foreign ground contact: expect the worst. It had been so long since they last faced real danger, and he had forgotten the smell of it. Priest took the lead, pushing forward. Gravel tried to summon Morkanium, and the property surged over his skin, coalescing in slow, deliberate waves. He felt the slightest bit of disorientation, and his vision turned slightly unfocused as a result. Side-effects. But the side-effect of not drawing Morkanium might be death, so it would have to do. A shape dangled in the middle of the passageway, swaying slightly in the stale air. At first, it was just a silhouette. But upon a second glance, it wasnt just a silhouette. Its limbs were limp; head slumped forward. Then the lights flared brighter for a split second. Hunter subconsciously took a step back. Whoa! Whats that? Hold on . . . Gravel sucked in a sharp breath. Thats not a trap. It was a body. Chapter 4: Space Opera Frog Dissection The corpse was dressed in a tattered Republic uniform, suspended by thick, coiled cables wrapped around its torso like constricting vines. His face was slack, eyes sunken, mouth ajar as if frozen mid-scream. Blood had dried in dark streaks along his neck and chest, though the exact cause of death wasnt clear. Gravel couldnt help but think he looked like a macabre pi?ata. Priest stepped forward, scanning him with his Anvilx, one of the newer versions of the wristband device every crew member needed to have. The holographic interface flickeredprocessing, processingthen spat out results. No vital signs. Been dead for less than a week. Why was there no smell? Gravel said. He studied the way the body hung, how the cables seemed intentional. Like something had dragged him up there. He glanced at the walls, noticing deep gouges in the metal. At a week, humans would start to melt, and the smell would have been obvious from miles away. So what stopped that from happening here? Good question, Priest replied before proceeding to not answer the question. Gravel tried to summon his Morkanium, but the material stopped effusing as soon as it coated his fingers. The space before him swiveled like he just got out of a roller coaster. Shit. My ink armor is on time-out. He had depleted his reserves trying to coat the material around his body earlier, and if he were to overdo it, the terrible migraines, dizziness, and loss of motor function would be the least of his problems. Hunter exhaled slowly, her rifle trained on the corpse, while murmuring something intelligible. Priest tuned his wrist device to scan the surrounding area. His display flickered again. Wait. There is residual power flowing through them. Barely active, but A sharp crackle cut through the silence. The cables twitched. A synthetic tendril lashed down like a viper. Shit! Hunters tentacle! Gravel grabbed Priests shoulder and shoved him aside. He lunged forward, trying to snatch the tendril with his Morkanium-infused arms. The tendril slipped through his grasp. Then it lunged in again. Gravel twisted his body, channeling his mutations energy to redirect the oncoming strike. The tendril slammed into the reinforced floor and left a jagged dent as it echoed. Good work, Priest said. We move. Hunters laser gun barked out a quick burst. The beams tore into the cables, but instead of severing, they were deflected, vanishing into the ceiling with a sizzling hiss. Phase-shifting material? Hunter murmured. Those cables must be important. The corpse swayed from the impact, but remained suspended, its hollow eyes staring at nothing. That thing is alive? Hunter snapped, already reloading. Probably semi-autonomous, Priest muttered, scanning again. Maybe rigged into the bunkers power. Some kind of defensive system, or a leftover experiment. I detected three heat signatures earlier; this might be one of them. There might be at least one more. Gravel deadpanned. Then lets not give it another chance to grab us. The team pressed forward, stepping over the cracked floor where the cable had struck. The corridor stretched ahead. Silent again. A putrid, organic rot clung to the back of Gravels throat. He could see Hunter fighting the urge to gag. He put a hand on her back, nudging her. She glanced at him, nodding. With a swoosh, the cables behind them shifted. Hunter glanced back once, saw nothing, then continued trudging forward. The further they went, the colder the air became. The scent of decay faded with each step they took, overtaken by the metallic smell that wasnt akin to blood. At least not human blood. Hunter heaved a sigh. Her breath was visible in the chill. Priests scanner flickered again. Power fluctuations ahead. The main server room should be twenty meters away. Gravel didnt slow. He could feel it too. An almost imperceptible thrum in the air. Hunter swept her rifle across the corridor. Gravel. How was that thing back there able to move? I saw its finger twitching. It wasnt just a cable. I dont know about it any more than you do. He shook his head. If Priest doesnt have an answer, no one does. The hallway stretched ahead, and the only sounds were their footsteps against the cold metal floor. Then, the lights pulsed. Once. A low hum vibrated through the walls. Hunter stopped mid-step. Thats new. Priest frowned, looking at his scanner. [STATUS: Unidentified Energy Surge Detected. 87% Power Spike] [SOURCE: Central Core - Primary Systems] He said, Something is A deep, grinding noise cut him off. Metal shifting. Machinery stirred to life. Gravels gut twisted. Yeah, we gotta go. They broke into a run, boots pounding against steel. The hum grew louder, turning into a pulsing rhythm, like an artificial heartbeat. Then, ahead of them, the walls opened up. Panels slid back with sharp hisses, revealing mechanical arms folded into alcoves. At first, they seemed inertlifeless remnants of an abandoned defense system. Then they moved. Hunter swore in her native languageSolmense of Haret, which sounded like a dialect of Spanish than an actual, distinct languageas she raised her laser rifle. The first arm shot forward, metal claws snapping as it lunged for Gravel. He ducked, narrowly avoiding being skewered. Another swung toward Hunter. She dropped into a roll, firing upward as she moved. Sparks flew, but the arm recoiled and reset, recalibrating. Priest shouted, dodging a clawed appendage. They are tracking us. Left. Gravel gritted his teeth. He slammed his shoulder into one of the mechanical arms, forcing it back into its alcove just long enough to pass. The hallway was turning into a gauntlet, with defense systems springing to life all around them. Priest skidded to a stop, his wrist device flashing red. Server rooms ahead. Ten meters! Override that door, Gravel ordered. A metal arm lashed out, striking the side of his rifle and sending it clattering to the floor. He didnt stop. No time. He pulled his sidearm, firing at a cluster of wiring in the wall that was already riddled with bullet holes. Probably the best decision to shoot them where they had been hit. One of the arms spasmed, then went still. Hunter sprinted ahead, leaped, and slid up to the reinforced door. Priest, now! Priest was already there, tapping furiously at the control panel. Almost A mechanical screech rang out from behind them. Something bigger was waking up. Gravel was pretty sure that was the third signature. Gravel didnt look back. Priest, open it! The door hissed, then slid open. The three of them dove inside. Priest slammed his hand against the emergency override. The door groaned, then locked shut just as the corridor outside erupted in motion. A single bang thundered on the other side of the door. The screeching stopped. Silence settled over them, save for the quiet purr of servers lining the room. Hunter shook. She shook, and shook again. Her claustrophobia was already in the work, but Gravel was not one to comfort her. Hunter didnt need comfort. Hell, she wouldnt even admit she was claustrophobic. If anything, she would be pissed at herself if she couldnt get her fear in check and have him step in and do it for her. Finally, she bit her lips, and the shake on her shoulders was no longer visible. What is this place? It has tech that should not be on an uninhabited planet. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. You wanna go back and find out? Gravel asked. Im good. She caught her breath. Gravel knew that look, that subtle furrow of her brow that slowly, deliberately deepened as she squinted her round eyes. She was annoyed with something. With him, in particular. Whats wrong? He asked. Dont say nothing. Lets save ourselves from days of stupid cold war where nobody says anything. She scrunched her nose, then turned her gaze away from him and onto the safety latch of her laser gun where her fingers had been fidgeting on. We should not have taken this mission, Gravel. Now it was his turn to furrow his brow. Because its dangerous? Because the reward is too good for the task. And youre saying it now, after the fact. When I briefed the mission to yall all you said was sure. Hunter didnt reply. Priest was already scanning the server racks. Where is it? We need to help him. Gravel exhaled, sweeping his gaze over the rows of humming serverstall, dust-coated monoliths blinking with weak status lights. The air was warmer here, thick with the scent of old circuitry: heated metal, faintly burnt insulation, and the stale tang of dust long settled in forgotten corners. The low, vibrating croon of the server pressed against their skulls non-stop. Every few seconds, a dying coolant system let out a strained hiss, like an old man straining his coughs. Hunter ran a hand through her hair, glancing at the sealed door behind them. I think they mightve found a way to activate residual nerve activities in corpses. You know, like how frog legs can still move after theyve died? Or maybe theyve found a way to stimulate muscles through those cables. Are you still caught up on that? Gravel asked. Hunter, weve got a Republic murder-spider outside. Its not just science experiments, Gravel. Its relevant. If theyre messing with nerve activity in corpses, whats stopping them from doing it to live subjects? Well, they would probably need to implant something, which would require the subject to be still for a minute, he replied. Priest didnt look up. Statistically unlikely. The energy required to sustain that level of neural reactivation in a corpse would be impractical for large-scale deployment. But . . . His fingers danced across his wrist device, cycling through security logs. . . . it would explain why this bunkers power grid is still active. Hunter was about to say something, but Gravel signalled for her to not bother Priest. What are we looking for? Gravel asked. Priest said, An encrypted storage unit. Should be somewhere. He turned toward a terminal and hooked in his device. A stream of old data scrolled across the screen, fragmented and corrupted. The system is barely holding together. Gravel tried to look for clues in a server stack. Hunter moved to a nearby stack, sweeping dust off a cracked ID plate. Any chance we rip it out and sort the decryption later? Not unless you want to trigger a failsafe, Priest muttered. Wait. Hunter crossed the room, scanning the rows of hardware, and she shook again, but in a more controlled manner this time. She stopped at one of the larger units near the back with an ajar casing. Subtle scratches marred the metal near the access panel. She narrowed his eyes, reaching out to pry it open. The panel gave way with a quiet creak, revealing the tangled mess of cables and drives within. Her gaze swept over the components, and his gaze followed hers. His instincts bracing for something to lash out. But nothing did. No automated defenses, no sudden alarms, no more dangling corpses. Just old, neglected hardware vibrating in the darkened space. She took a deep breath. Priest, she called, stepping aside. This might be it. Good job, Gravel said to her and realized that his tone was more neutral and less encouraging than he had wanted. Priest was already moving, his scanner whirring as he crouched beside the open casing. Looks promising. Give me a minute. His fingers danced over his wrist device, syncing with the system, tapping into the drives interface. Gravel leaned against a nearby rack, arms crossed. You know, Priest, if I had a ducat for every time you said give me a minute, Id own this bunker by now. Priest didnt reply. Priests scanner emitted blue lights as he ran decryption protocols. The server cooed, then purred, then shuddered in response, data streams flickering across his wrist display. Come on, he muttered. Give me something useful. Gravel asked, Any idea what exactly were pulling? Priest didnt look up. Could be fleet routes, supply chains. Even R&D projects. Hunter chimed in. Maybe there will be data to explain the diamond-skinned tigers out there. Or that moving corpse. His brow furrowed. Whatever it is, someone thought it was worth burying in a death trap. Gravel scanned the room again. How long? Another couple of minutes, Priest said. Hunter sighed. Famous last words. A low vibration thrummed through the floor. Subtle, but distinct. Hunters jaw tightened. Tell me that was the server. Priests fingers hesitated over his device. That wasnt the server. A deep clunk echoed from somewhere beyond the room. Then the metal again moved. The lights sputtered. Then, the unmistakable click of a security system rebooting rattled the walls. Priest cursed. The bunker just sealed itself. Hunter groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her breathing became slightly irregular. Gravel whispered at her, Stay cool, Hunter. Just because the doors closed doesnt mean space got any smaller. She didnt give him a response. Priest was already working on his wrist device, fingers flying across the interface. Security protocols just locked every entrance and scrambled the external comms. Perfect, Gravel muttered. At least I wont have to deal with Fang for a hot minute, he thought. Hunter paced, eyes flicking between the reinforced doorway and the still-whirring servers. She looked up and down as she sidled, but then stopped on her track. Her voice was quiet, the kind of unsure she had rarely exhibited in her life. . . . What if we dont go through the door? Gravel raised an eyebrow. Did you miss the part where were underground? Yes, but . . . the giant murder-spider outside isnt. Gravel blinked. You want to call the Spider mech? The same one that tried to vaporize us five minutes ago? Hunter tapped her feet against the ground furiously. That things got enough firepower to rip a hole through this entire bunker. If its recharged its plasma cannon already, then we can get it angry in the right direction. Gravel stared at her. That is either the dumbest or the smartest idea Ive heard today. And her body language didnt help her case, either. It was like she didnt believe in her own plan. Both he and Hunter turned to Priest. Priest stared back at them for a moment, then said, I would take that chance. Also, extraction completed. He raised the drive in front of him. Hunter let out an extremely prolonged exhale. You heard him. Get your inky armor ready, boulder boy, she replied. Youll need to tank when it hits. Gravel tried to summon his Morkanium again. The material formed around his hands more easily now, but from his experience, that would not be enough. I wont be able to summon it to cover more than the top half of my body. He did not say it, but he was hesitant. Hesitant of their chances if the plasma beam managed to reach his body. Hunter pursed her lips for a second then replied, Take cover. Priest tapped his comms, flipping to an emergency frequency. Static hissed in his ear as he adjusted the signal, searching for anything that could still transmit past the bunkers jamming. Then, he heard a faint, rhythmic pulse. The spider-like mechs automated targeting system. He keyed in a command, overriding the transmission filter. You want to taunt it, Gravel? He turned to him. There was no choice but to commit to the bit. Gravel gave a grin as he stepped forward. Oh, absolutely, he said, but his grin was not convincing. He then leaned into comms. Hey, bitch-ass-faced arachnid. Shouldve killed me earlier, but you were weak. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a distorted beep, sharp and aggressive, crackled through the channel. Gravel nodded. Oh yeah, I think it remembers us. Priest scanned the telemetry feed. Its redirecting. You have about twenty seconds before it locks onto this location. Gravel exhaled. Lets hope this bunker wasnt built to last. Outside, the jungle trembled as the Spider mech adjusted its stance. Servo motors whined, and a deep, throaty whirr signaled the charge-up of its primary cannon. Priests screen flared with warnings. About to fire. Hunter and Priest found cover, Gravel behind an overturned console, and Priest behind the most reinforced server stack labelled Classified. Hunter was moving away, but Gravel signalled for her to come over. There wasnt enough reinforced cover where she stood, and in that split second, hed made the decision that she was better off with him. She ran over. Gravel grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in, shielding her with his body as Morkanium surged over his back like living ink. Armor ready, Gravel spoke, but the dizziness had returned. It felt like his mind was infested by termites, and tickled his eardrums as they walked in. Soon, they would grind their antennae against his skull. No full body armor or he would black out. Rhyan, he could hear the murmur from underneath him. Her uneven breathing against his chest. If we die today . . . Shut up, Felicia, he said. Youre going to hate yourself for what you will say when we walk out of here alive. A second of silence. The kind of silence he had felt in an airlock, the last time they were this close to dying. It hadnt been his idea, that time. It had been Hunters. It was also a data drive, but there was a catch. They werent the only ones after that data. A merc crew with military-grade weaponry had gotten there first. And by the time the Black Fangs crew realized they were walking into a kill box, the stations life support systems had already been compromised. The only reason theyd survived was an airlock malfunction. The merc leader had tried venting them all into space, but the stations failing software had glitched, sealing half the bulkheads instead of opening them. It bought them just enough time for Gravel to force a manual override, and Hunter to put a bullet through the mercs visor at point-blank range. It was their last ground mission as a duo, before the duo ceased to exist (as it was then a trio with Priest in the mix). She hadnt pitched another one since. She just went along with whatever he pitched now. Then, Nice knowing you, she said. The air thrummed. Then another boom. The explosion roared through the bunker like a thunderclap. Metal screeched as a section of the ceiling buckled inward, debris crashing down in a storm of dust and shattered panels. The blast wave knocked a server rack and tore some cables. Some energy reached Gravel, but the bunker walls had absorbed the bulk of the damage. Gravel shielded both his and Hunters face. Thatcoughwas reckless. Love it. Hunter wiped the grime from her cheek. She was about to say something, probably something snarky, but ultimately never found her voice. Do not move yet, Priest warned. Above them, twisted metal groaned, and daylight poured in through the gaping hole the mech had blasted open. Then came the high-velocity railgun rounds. Sparks rained down as ruptured power lines burst overhead and server racks were punctured. The rail slug slammed into his Morkanium-coated forearm and back with a crack. Across the room, Priest raised his arm, releasing a gravitational pulse. The energy unfurled like an invisible barrier, distorting the air around it. As incoming bullets entered its field, their trajectories warped, slowed, then collapsed, plummeting to the ground. Then the railgun volleys halted. Hurry before it reloads, Priest moved with the drive already in his hands. My cyberhand will overload if I try to make another barrier. The others followed suit. A burst of static crackled in Gravels earpiece, followed by Hua Fangs voice, sharp and urgent. Glad to catch you again, guys, she said, breathless. Im right outsidebut Ive got company. And they fly. Chapter 5: Space Opera Emergency Takeoff Gravel exchanged a glance with Hunter, who was still brushing debris from her jacket. Specify company, he said, already knowing he wouldnt like the answer. Metallic, sprightly, and real bitey, Fang shot back. Think mechanical vultures with an attitude problem. I count at least four on me, but theres probably more. Hey, one of them just waved at me. Hey bestie! No tentacles? No. Tough luck. Gravel turned to Hunter and grinned, and she gave him a what are you talking about look. Priest swore under his breath, yanking a drive free from its housing. He sprinted toward the makeshift exit, waving the others to follow. As soon as he stepped out, the Spider mech whirred back to life, servos clicking as it attempted to recalibrate. Its plasma cannon was offline, but its targeting systems were still active. The remaining railguns swung toward him with a mechanical snarl. As the railguns locked onto him, he pivoted, raising his wrist and firing a concentrated energy blast straight at the mechs exposed joint. The shot hit dead-on, a crackling burst of blue light slamming into the damaged servos. The mech lurched, its targeting systems stuttering. Sparks erupted from the wound, the once-fluid movements of its leg turning sluggish and erratic. Hunter caught on instantly. Keep hitting it there! Priest fired again, this time aiming just below the exposed hydraulics. The impact sent another surge of energy crackling through the mechs frame. It shuddered like a dying star giving one last, miserable cough before collapsing. The aiming reticles blinked as the railguns twitched and then remained still. Gravel seized the opening. Nows our chance! Move! He yelled, but his voice was strained mid-sentence. His numbing back pain had returned, and the pain plus the discombobulation still going on in his head wasnt a good combination. The team sprinted away as the mech attempted to steady itself, its damaged systems struggling to compensate. From above, a piercing shriek rang outthe first of the metallic vultures had spotted them. What in the hell are those? Gravel looked up, marveling at the nightmarish shapes cutting through the sky. His vision was quite blurry, and for every one vulture other would normally see, he saw two. The vultures were an unholy fusion of machine and predator, their skeletal frames a patchwork of corroded steel and exposed wiring. Their wingsjagged, uneven thingsflexed with unnatural precision, each beat sending ripples of red energy coursing through the gaps in their plating. Instead of feathers, they were lined with razor-thin alloy blades that caught the sunlight like shattered glass. Gravel had no idea what that alloy was supposed to be, and the alloy itself seemed like it couldnt decide what it wanted to be as well. It coruscated between different colors: one moment it looked like a sickly blend of green and violet, the next, it rippled into a deep, almost translucent black with veins of bright, fluorescent blue running through it. Who would create such a thing? Hunter asked as they kept running. That vulture-shaped body cant be a good configuration for a flying machine. Gravel glanced at the circling machines. Someone with more aesthetic sense than engineering sense, he said. Or maybe they wanted intimidation over efficiency. He wanted to say, nothing says stay away like a flock of airborne blenders, but a sharp pain travelled up his lower back, as if somebodyd just stabbed him with a dozen needles. He wheezed. It came from a lab. They dont do things inefficiently, she retorted. A shadow streaked through the smoke. Then came the roar of thrusters, a controlled yet powerful hum that sent leaves and debris scattering across the clearing. Hua Fangs crafta sleek and vicious modified gunship called Black Fangdescended. Its matte-black plating drank in the sunlight, broken only by sharp red markings that shone like embers beneath an active energy shield. But up close, its hodgepodge nature was impossible to miss. The hull was a Frankensteins monster of stolen techsome panels smooth and pristine, clearly ripped from the latest Republic interceptors, while others were rough, scorched, and uneven, scavenged from downed crafts or bought off the black market. The VTOL engines, mounted on either side, hummed with unsettling efficiency, their polished casings unmistakably belonging to a state-of-the-art Volrak model. They were far too advanced for a ship like this. Fang was very good at raiding. The side hatch hissed open mid-hover. A petite young woman sporting a bright red fitted, sleeveless jacket leaned out, wind whipping her short, dark, perpetually windswept hair as she shouted, Onboard! That was Hua Fang. Despite her small stature, her features were sharp: almond-shaped eyes and an unflinching gaze accentuated by slightly upturned lips. Gravel gasped. The image of Hua Fang before him was reduced to muzzy streaks of red and black. His legs buckled, and he stumbled. Someone instantly grabbed his arm and looped it around her neck. It was Hunter, of course. Not now, Gravel, she grunted as she pulled him forward. It wasnt the first time she had dealt with the side-effect of his abilities, and he trusted she knew the signs. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Then came the sprinting footsteps behind them. Gravel turned back to the general shape of Priest, with his head raising upward, probably scanning the skies. He saw one of the metallic vultures break off from the others, diving towards them like a feathered dart. A nightmare of rusted steel, razor wings, and exposed wiring. He raised his cybernetic arm. The metallic plating swung, and he fired a rapid series of concentrated plasma blasts. The blue energy bolts streaked through the air, forcing the vulture to veer away at the last second. Shit, shit, Hunter huffed. Youre so heavy, Gravel. Tell me when to jump onboard, he replied. The gunship dipped lower, skimming just above the jungle floor. Now! Hunter yelled. She braced her legs and shoved him. He pushed off the momentum, grabbed the edge of the hatch with both hands, and hauled himself in. Hunter followed, turning just in time to grab Priests wrist and yank him aboard as Fang jerked the controls. The moment Priests boots hit the floor, the hatch began to close. One of the metallic vultures, enraged at their escape, slammed into it with a screech. Sparks fired as its beak snapped, trying to latch onto the edge of the closing hatch. Priest raised his hand. A ripple of distorted gravity slammed into the creature. With a screech of metal on metal and a shower of sparks, the vulture was thrown off the ramp. The hatch slammed shut a split second later. Fang slammed the throttle forward. The engines roared, and the gunship shot skyward in a steep, gut-wrenching ascent. Below, the mech twitchedthen steadied, its systems rerouting power in under a second. Its targeting array flared back to life, locking onto them as its railguns swiveled upward. Fang. Gravel called out, gripping the side of the cabin. Its still moving. Yeah, I noticed, Fang yanked the controls. The gunship pitched as a burst of railgun fire shredded the air just behind them. Id really prefer not to die today, so hang on. Priest clenched the overhead bar. The spider mech is recalibrating fast. Hunter grimaced as another warning tone blared through the cockpit. Yeah? Well, so should we. Get us out of here! Working on it, Fang snapped, slamming the throttle to full burn. The VTOL engines roared, and the ship jolted as it accelerated. Below, the Spider mech took another lumbering step, servos shrieking as its plasma cannon began charging again. A shrill screech cut through the airone of the metallic vultures diving toward them. Fang swore and twisted the stick, sending the ship into a stomach-churning roll just as the creatures claws scraped against the hull. Sparks flew, but the gunship powered through, climbing higher. Were not sticking around for round two, Fang growled, punching a set of mismatched switches. A brief pulse rippled from the ships taila countermeasure burst scrambling enemy targeting for a few precious seconds. Hunter exhaled, keeping his eyes on the rapidly shrinking battlefield below. Lets hope that buys us enough time. The gunship rocketed through the sky as Fang pushed them past safe limits. Below, the jungle blurred into a mass of green, and the bunkeralong with the Spider mech still struggling to regain full functionshrank rapidly from view. Another piercing screech. One of the metallic vultures streaked toward them, its razor-lined wings slicing through the air, but Fang twisted the stick hard. The ship veered sharply to the side, sending the creature spiraling past them before it could adjust course. Almost clear, Priest called, checking his scanner. But they are still on us. Not for long, Fang muttered, fingers flying across the console. Switching to high burn. A warning light flared red on the dashengine strain. Fang ignored it. She flicked a mismatched toggle near the throttle, and the ships patched-together drive system flared to life, its mix of Republic-grade propulsion and black-market enhancements forcing raw power into the engines. The ship lurched forward, inertia pressing them into their seats. The vultures screeched as their speed was suddenly insufficient against the gunships acceleration. Within seconds, the atmosphere began to thin, and the sky deepened into a dark void speckled with stars. Gravel let out a slow breath as the shaking eased. We clear? Priest checked his readouts. Tracking signatures are fading. They cannot chase us this high. Gravel let himself collapse against the nearest bulkhead, sucking in a deeper breath. His arms burned from exertion, his back ached from the earlier impact with the tiger, and there was a nasty tear in his jacket where a piece of shrapnel had grazed him. Priest walked up to him, a proper medkit in hand. This one contained various vials of colored liquids, small devices with glowing tips, and patches that shimmered with embedded circuitry. He pulled out a small spray bottle filled with a pale blue liquid. This is a dermal anesthetic, he explained. It should numb the area and reduce the inflammation. Gravel noticed Priest had swapped from his pointed fingers to human fingers. They were finally safe. The cybernetic man carefully sprayed the blue liquid onto the tear in Gravels jacket, the liquid quickly soaking through the fabric and onto his skin. You should heal naturally in a few days. Hunter leaned over him, hands on her knees, still catching her breath. Then she spotted the rip in his coat and let out a low whistle. Your fashion sense finally gave up, huh? Gravel peeled the fabric back, wincing at the smear of blood underneath. Pretty sure that was my favorite jacket. Hunter clicked her tongue. Tragic. Guess youll just have to wear one of your other five identical jackets. Gravel grunted, poking at the wound with two fingers. Its not identical. This one had sentimental value. Priest, kneeling nearby as he checked over his wrist scanner, spoke without looking up. I scanned your wardrobe last month. You own seven identical jackets. Then he stood and walked away. Gravel gave him a flat look. You scanned my wardrobe? But he had already gone to his designated seat on the sofa in the common room. Hunter slid down beside Gravel, letting out a breath as she leaned against the bulkhead. Without a word, she reached for his arm. Firm and cautious, her fingers pressed against the fabric of his jacket, then his side, checking where the shrapnel had grazed him earlier. If Priest says youre good, youre good, she muttered, almost to herself. Gravel flexed his fingers experimentally, rolling his shoulder. The ache was still there, but the pain was already fadingPriests work had always been unsettlingly efficient. Hunter let her head rest back against the wall. That was too close. I was worried for you earlier. Gravel glanced at her for a good second. Then he smirked. Funny hearing you say that out loud. She made him wait for her answer. Not a word was spoken on the Black Fang for another minute, only for Hunter to again cut through the engine noise with a soft murmur, One day, were not walking away. Outside the viewport, Namor-4 had already shrunk into a distant, swirling green-blue storm. Chapter 5.5: Space Opera Retirement Plan The rattling of the Black Fangs engine had traversed its way into Gravels bones. He exhaled, slow, steady, resting his head back against the bulkhead as his vision resumed its full capacity. His shoulder still ached from where the shrapnel had grazed him, but the pain was already dulling, blending into the background like every other wound hed picked up over the years. The kind he just learned to live with. Hunter sat beside him, silent now. Her breathing had evened out, but she was still much too tense for her usual self. She wasnt the kind of person to get sentimental, but she also wasnt the kind to say things she didnt mean. I was worried for you earlier. Gravel had heard a dozen variations of those words from a dozen different people, but coming from her, it carried a weight he wasnt sure what to do with. It was made more than apparent to himself that he was never well-equipped for those conversations to begin with. That scrawny scrapyard back on Zizis planet doesnt look so bad now. His gaze drifted toward the holo-display on his wrist. Of course, Zizis unread message was still there. The one hed insisted to be no more than just a spare part dealer to him. Fang had taken quite a liking to her, calling her the sweetest girl she had ever met, which was probably equal part exaggeration as it was genuine. Priest had never met the girl, and Hunter had never commented on her. Shed sent it yesterday. He hadnt even looked at it. Hadnt had the time, between dodging bullets and barely making it out of Namor-4 in one piece. Now, with everything still and quiet, he realized just how long that was. Even if he replied right now, she wouldnt get it for another week. And then itd be another week before he heard back. They were too far away to establish a direct comm line. He dimmed the display. Hed reply. Soon. Probably. Gravel stared up at the ceiling like maybe an answer would be written there. If only we would score big, he muttered. Say a billion ducats. Then we could walk away from this life for good. That would be a proper thanks to you. He chanced another glance at Hunter, be careful not to make it too obvious. Thanks for covering my back back there. Also, what I said wasnt a pun. Maybe I can ask her about what she meant earlier. About the mission, about the things she was about to say. Maybe one day we can have a talk, heart-to-heart or something. Ew. Too mushy. Lets reword it to talking it out like mature people. Yeah. Maybe we can talk it out like mature people. Maybe that one day can be now. He spoke, So A voice crackled through the ships comms, dry and teasing. I hear asteroid mining pays well. Fang. Gravels head snapped toward the controls. You eavesdropping now? Fangs laugh was light, but there was a sharpness beneath it. Hard not to when youre broadcasting existential crises on an open channel. Hunter let out a relieved laughter. Remind me to never doubt your getaway skills, Fang. Fang scoffed, then came the clicking sound of her flipping a few stabilizers back online. Then dont cut me off your comms again next time. I didnt do that. Rhyan did. Hunter turned to Gravel. Call me by my real name now, huh, Miss Felicia Rhodes? He snorted. Fang exhaled. You two gonna reminisce, or are we actually debriefing? Because last I checked, we barely got out of that hellhole in one piece. Priest tapped his console, double-checking their heading. She is right. We have got the drive, but we dont know what is on it yet. Then he looked up at all of them. And we should have done much better than that, despite the mech. Hunter and Gravel looked at each other, knowing that admitting fault would save them the lecture. Hunter spoke first, Less quipping next time. Gravel scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. Hey, as long as we get things done, huh? Its like our second ground mission ever. Were still adjusting, you know? Transitioning from escorting cargo to. . . whatever this is he gestured at nothing in particular, hasnt exactly been swell. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Third. It is our third ground mission, Priest replied. Hunter chimed in, Still . . . whats up with that corpse? Ive never seen anything like that before. Gravel immediately diverted to another topic. Maybe the drive will tell us. That thing is in the same facility they ran dubious experiments in anyway. Lets crack it open and find out whats worth dying over. Priest didnt look up from his console. We are not cracking anything open. We deliver the drive as-is. That was the deal. Gravel scoffed. You cant be serious. Hunter leaned forward, arms crossed. Priest, they lied to us. We werent supposed to run into an entire kill squad and a damn murder-spider. The job was framed as a simple retrieval, not a death trap. Priest met their stares. That does not change the contract. Gravel ran a hand through his hair. We nearly died for this thing. You really dont wanna know why? Hunter exhaled through her nose, a slow, deliberate soundhalf a laugh, half a sigh. You ever regret this? Gravels reply was instantaneous. Regret what? She gestured vaguely. This. All of it. Waking up every day knowing some corporate asshole, warlord, or crime syndicate might screw us over just because they can? Priest tilted his head. Regret implies we had better choices. Hunter stared at him for a long moment, then laughed. Her laughter was edged with exhaustion. You ever think maybe we did? He was about to say, well, you didnt have a choice when they chased you out of your home planet twelve years back, but ultimately bit back the words. A silence settled over them, stretching just long enough for Gravel to shift uncomfortably. He knew what she really meant. There was a line that if they had crossed, they couldve retired by now. But they couldnt. The crew had made that decision years ago. It wasnt just an unspoken understandingit was one of the few rules written down, etched into the very foundation of their partnership. No stealing from innocent people. No raiding supply ships or emptying corporate accounts. Not long ago, theyd broken a contractwalked away from a job they werent supposed to walk away from. It had been a simple transport gig, moving a sealed crate from the outer colonies to a mid-tier Republic hub. No questions asked. No inspections. But Priest had checked the manifest anywaybecause of course he had. The crate had been filled with people. Cargo. They had burned that job to the ground. Freed the people, scattered their contractors operations, and made enemies of some very powerful people in the process. Theyd barely made it out alive. They were lucky because their contractorChoudaurywent bankrupt, or else they wouldve still had internal bounties over their heads. Hunter hadnt mentioned that job since. But Gravel could see it now, behind her eyes, weighing on her shoulders. Gravel muttered, his voice lower than usual. Were not making an enemy out of McPherson. We either deliver the drive and walk, or we open it, deliver it, then walk. Ill make sure we wont repeat our last mistakes. Priest hesitated, just for a second, before shaking his head. It does not matter. If we look inside, we make ourselves a liability, again. We are not getting hired for anything else. But what if that drive contains things that can wipe out a civilization? What about that then? Do you really want to find out? Gravel didnt give him an answer right away. Fang clicked her tongue, watching them through the rearview display. Hate to break up the moral debate, but were an hour from rendezvous. You three better figure this out before we get there. The screen flickered with navigational data: Departing low orbit of Namor-4. Trajectory set for deep-space relay at Gridpoint Theta-92. The once-distant planet shrank behind them, its storm-wracked surface a swirling mass of emerald clouds and jagged lightning. Whatever secrets had been buried beneath its shattered landscape, they were leaving them far behind. Hunter and Gravel exchanged a glance. Neither looked ready to let this go. The ship hummed softly as it cut through the void, its stabilizers adjusting automatically to the shift in trajectory. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken arguments. Hunter leaned back in her seat, boot tapping an impatient rhythm against the floor. Gravel had his arms crossed, gaze distant, jaw frozen as if nailed in place. Priest remained at the console with a blank face, fingers idly running through flight diagnostics. Probably pretending not to feel the weight of the others stares. Fang, ever the outsider to their moral dilemmas, sighed petulantly. You know, if youre all gonna sulk, at least do it somewhere other than my cockpit. No one moved. She rolled her eyes and focused on the controls. Fine. Keep brooding. Just dont make it my problem when it blows up in your faces. Chapter 6: Space Opera Periodic Maintenance (Hunter) (NEW CONTENT) With one boot propped up on a crate and the other bracing against the metal grating, Hunter crouched low under the weak, milky white light of the engine room. She had been breathing in too much ionized metal, which was never a good sign. Some things were in dire need for some tinkering. One of her backpack appendages held a flickering blue flashlight steady, while the other three worked inside the open panel of the ships jump drive. One twisted a rusted bolt loose, another held a diagnostic scanner, and the third reached deeper inside, searching for the real problem. Her backpack, which was in fact not a backpack and just a backpack-shaped gear, had more than just the signal jammer shed used the first day she met Gravel. She would call herself a good technician, but in reality, these neurally-controlled appendages would often do plenty of heavy lifting. She liked them, but not nearly enough to warrant all those tentacle jokes Gravel had been slinging around. She felt it before she saw ither appendage brushing against something that wasnt supposed to be that hot. Shit, she muttered, retracting it quickly before she lost another actuator to melted wiring. A voice cut through the grumble of the engine room. Is there a problem? Hunter turned her head just enough to see Priest standing by the doorway, hands in his pockets, looking like he had wandered in by accident. He hadnt, of course. He never did anything by accident. There might be, she admitted, rolling her shoulders. If I dont fix up this phase relay regulator, we might not even be able to initiate a jump next time we''re in a pinch. One of her appendages lifted the burnt-out component for emphasis. Its holding on by, like, two stubborn screws and my blind optimism. We have not needed a space jump for months. Why do you fix it now? He asked. Gravel put me to it. As he should. You should have done your periodic maintenance two weeks ago. I know. Nobody knows where we will need to initiate a space jump. I know. Your next scheduled maintenance is five days from now. I know. You use your appendages too much, and you might forget how to use your real hands. It will not be a nice feeling. I know. Hunters fingers twitched, and one of the appendages twitched with them. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. She felt an iota of guilt gnaw at her, small but sharp as the edge of a stripped screw. She had slacked off. Again. The past week had been a rinse-and-repeat routine of sleeping and readingmostly old books shed meant to get through months ago. When she ran out of those, shed started picking at the ships archives, skimming through magazine snippets about the galaxys new physical currency standards. Apparently, tantalum was shaping up to be the next big thing, some high-density, corrosion-resistant metal that was easier to authenticate than the last fiasco with counterfeit palladium ducats. Shed never cared about money before. But the moment Gravel reminded her about maintenance, suddenly, she had all the time in the world to take a deep dive into interstellar economic policies. Not that I wanted to slack off, she thought to herself, jaw tightening as she wrenched a panel loose. I was just stressed. Stressed about being on the ground. Being in a tropical jungle, more specifically. It poked her wound in peculiar ways. Hunter grunted as she reached deeper into the open panel, one appendage holding a wrench steady while another twisted a corroded bolt loose. A third appendage snaked inside, feeling around for the exact spot where the power relay was shorting out. Could be a bad capacitor, she said even though Priest didnt ask, gripping a component and giving it a firm tug. It didnt budge. Could be a miscalibrated field coil. Could be the universe just screwing with me because it knows Im the one stuck fixing it. She yanked. Something inside gave way with an unsettling snap, and the burnt-out relay came free, trailing a mess of singed wires and carbon scoring. She tossed the ruined part onto the deck with a clatter. Priest fixed his gaze on the writhing appendages at Hunters back. You once claimed you acquired that system in Vyleri, he said, hands still in his pockets, his voice steady but probing. Yup. A second of silence passed. Then, he said, You lied. Hunters grip on the relay tightened. Not out of guiltbracing for impact. He must have looked through the records, being the tech-obsessed machine of a man he was. Vyleri is a tech haven, yes. But it exports more fruits than neural-linked tech, Priest continued. Hunter rolled her eyes. What, you don''t think I got it in a back alley from some guy selling black-market mods between smoothie stands? Priest gave her a blank stare. She shouldnt have gone with that lie. It would have never flied. If Priest could take steroids to enhance his mechanical performance, he probably would. Somehow she just thought he was just asking about her appendages for the sake of it. He clearly wasnt. Hunter sighed, pulling a bundle of fried wiring out of the engine and setting it aside. Well, maybe I was misremembering. Neural-linked tech is military grade, Hunter, finally, he said. "And I was a military woman," Hunter said as she reached for a replacement wire. The conversation dropped there. Nobody said anything else. Hunter tightened the last bolt into place with a sharp twist. The phase relay regulator was secure, wires were neatly reconnected, and the fresh component hummed with a steady, reassuring current that didnt sound like its lungs were on strike. One of her appendages closed the panel shut. She reached for her water bottle, took a sip, and only then did she notice the empty doorway. Priest was gone. Chapter 6.5: Space Opera Reptilian Humanoid (Gravel) [Gridpoint Theta-92, Xyphos-219] C Year 2749
Hunter emerged from her chamber, carrying a little pouch slung across her shoulder and a limited-edition drink in her handBrak Silver from the city of Brak, a port city in the planet Ffala. She cracked the can open as she walked, and the hiss of carbonation macerated under the weight of the atmosphere, like any disappointing drink that was way past its prime would. Gravel, leaning against the cushion hed always leaned against, raised an eyebrow. Huh. Thought youd never drink that. Is it even drinkable now? A holo-map was pulled up in front of him. The mode was the Scorpius-Tran Galaxical, a once-popular map tracking system now mostly phased out for newer, more intuitive interfaces. Instead of a smooth, seamless zoom function, this map required manual adjustments, each movement stuttering as if the program had forgotten how to keep up with time. A sudden swipe would judder the screen, and in rarer cases, freeze it for a good minute. He was checking the distance between themselves and their destination, a relay station. The map was centered on the Black Fang''s current location, with the star systems branching out like a web of interconnected points. It was zoomed out to a scale that allowed him to view a wide swath of the star systems in their immediate vicinity, covering a distance of approximately 250 light-years. It wasnt enough to span the entire galaxy, but it provided a good overview of the sectors they were currently operating in. Each star system was marked with a bright, pulsating dot, indicating the location of a star around which planets orbited. Lines connected some of these planets, representing well-traveled routes or trade lanes. A few of the planets appeared to be on the fringes of the systems, with a faint glow that suggested either developing colonies or smaller, less explored worlds. There were 18 habitable planets within this radius, their own icons representing major landmasses or notable features, such as cities or colony settlements. Nearest to them was Enzo, a planet with cities inside giant biodomes. His landing was pleasant last time on Enzo, unlike the dusty, desolate planet with a small settlement carved into its rocky surface called Grithon. Probably because the place was inhabited by Zvevans, who, despite their lack of technological innovation, still were inexplicably vehement about their genetic superiority over humans. They looked barely any different from humans, and Gravel was sure they were biologically adjacent too. Gravels gaze lingered over the dots representing the habitable planets. Of the 18, about 80% were marked in a warm shade of amberthose were the planets known to have intelligent life. Of those, he estimated that 80% of those 80% had populations that could be traced back to Earthlings or Zvevans. The legacy of Earths descendants still spanned across countless worlds, either through colonization or as the result of vast migration waves centuries ago. Its canned, Hunter said. They never expire. Gravel snorted. You say that, but Im not the one who ended up on antibiotics last time on JAgur. You collect soda cans, thats cool. But some collectibles should stay collectibles. I did not get an infection from soda, Gravel. It was from you thinking eating a mooing rostlock was a good idea. Well I felt fine after that meal. He pointed at her pouch. Are there any lipsticks in there or just wrenches and pliers? She patted the pouch. Cosmetics and mechanical tools. Essentials. Gravels brows furrowed. That why youre lugging that thing around? In the common room? Hunter took a slow sip, unfazed. Yeah, well, you never know when Ill need to fix a reactor or my eyeliner. Gravel shook his head with a smirk but said nothing more. I take that your backs feeling better now that youre grinning like an idiot? Hunter asked with a brow raised. To tell you the truth, I cant feel shit. But its better than rolling around in pain, I guess. He looked at her for a solid second. She returned his stare, saying nothing. He then said, Now that we have time to spare, maybe you can talk about why you think we shouldnt have accepted She walked away. Of course. The relay station at Gridpoint Theta-92 emerged from the void, a solitary construct floating at the edge of space. Its patchwork hull looked like it had been assembled by a drunk engineer with a deep hatred against symmetry. It was a sprawling array of antennae and docking spires, built from a patchwork of reinforced plating that had clearly seen its share of rough encounters. The stations lights pulsed faintly, a quiet beacon in the darkno fanfare, no welcoming signals, just the cold, functional glow of automated systems waiting for the next transient crew. Beyond it, the nearest star loomedSarnath-Delta, a red giant nearing the end of its life. Its surface roiled with slow, molten currents, sending out arcs of dying plasma that flickered like distant storms. The light it cast was weak, diluted, painting the relay station in a dim, rust-colored glow. A lonely outpost watching over a graveyard sun. Fang guided the ship in, aligning with the docking coordinates. A brief transmission crackled through the commsautomated clearance, no human voice. There shouldve been a real human greeting them at the dock. At least last time they were here, there was. Fang frowned. Automated response. No live check-in. Priests hands hovered over his console. Normal for a relay this remote. Then he swiped to another document. Remember, Gravel. There is a hazard clause in the contract. I got it. Gravel nodded. Garnash should be here waiting. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Hunter checked her weapons charge. Maybe hes late. Maybe hes dead. Maybe he went to shave that ugly beard of his. Fang frowned. I just picked up a suspicious encrypted message. Low bandwidth, almost like a localized communication. Means somebodys here, at least, Gravel said. Or maybe its the super-duper galactic entity communicating in a frequency we just happen to be able to pick up. The docking clamps engaged with a mechanical hiss, locking the ship into place. No fanfare. No welcome party. Outside, the access corridor extended toward them, but no one stood waiting at the airlock. Just the quiet hum of station power, the dull flicker of warning lights casting long shadows against the metal walls. Fang narrowed her eyes at the empty reception. Alright, now I know somethings up. The sensor interference is getting worse. Priest adjusted his grip on the drive case. No sign of Garnash? Their countermeasures must be sophisticated. Gravel exhaled, already stepping toward the airlock controls. Were about to find out. The airlock cycled open with a deep clunk. The moment the doors slid apart, a wall of armed bodies came into viewhalf a dozen mercs in patchwork armor, weapons raised, standing in a loose formation inside the corridor. At their center, a broad-shouldered figure stepped forward, eyes locking onto the crew. Garnash. The old warlord looked genuinely surprised. His reptilian features twitched, sharp teeth parting slightly in what could almost be called an amused snarl. His scales, a dull bronze under the stations dim lights, caught the flicker of the warning strips along the corridor. He was taller than most of his hired guns, his heavy coat draped over a chest plate that had clearly seen battle. Well, I will be damned. You lot truly return. He rumbled with a thickly-accented dialect of the International Space Language (ISL), the language everybody with a standardized laryngeal structure should learn if they wished to do business anywhere outside of their home planet. This was also why ISL was so popular80% of species (the magic number) across planets had similar laryngeal structure to either Earthlings or Zvevans, who were also remarkably human-like. It was no secret that Earthlings and Zvevans terraformed planets as they arrived there, burning all primitive local flora and fauna to a crisp and replaced with their own, resulting in planets having more or less similar ecosystems. Hunter cocked an eyebrow. Oh? You werent expecting us? Garnash tilted his head, looking them over, eyes lingering on the drive case in Priests hands. Let us say I had . . . contingencies. If you did not. He gestured around at his men with an easy, almost casual motion. Gravels fingers twitched near his weapon, but he didnt draw. Not yet. That why you brought a welcoming committee? Garnash let out a short, barking laugh. One cannot be too careful. You went dark too long. Thought Republic eat you alive. His gaze flicked between them. Hunter exhaled sharply. You tell us, Garnash. Because we had one hell of a time down there. The warlord let out a deep chuckle. Then we all have stories to share. He extended a clawed hand. But firstthe drive. Priest stepped forward, case in hand, ready to hand it over. But then he hesitated. His gaze flickered to Hunter, to Gravel, to Fang still at the ships controls. The tension in their eyes said it all. Something wasnt right. Before he could speak, Gravel took a step ahead of him. Garnash. Gravels voice was even but sharp. You sent us into something way nastier than a simple retrieval job. You wanna explain why? Garnashs smirk twitched, but he didnt lose his composure. Instead, he spread his hands in mock innocence. No need for dramatics. His tail flicked behind him, a restless movement. You have the drive, yes? You are alive. McPherson always pay on success. Hunter muttered, moreso to herself. Who knows what that success means. Gravel watched Garnashs tail flick, the way his smirk tightened at the edges. He was not quite irritated, but not quite relaxed either. He had an opening. Time to push. Gravel didnt move. You knew what was down there. Priests voice was lower. The hazard clause said we are entitled to another twenty millions. But given what weve been through, dont you think we should get a bit more? Gravel asked. Garnashs smirk faded. His slit-pupiled eyes locked onto Priest. Not the deal. Do you give back coin when the job easier than expected? Gravel took a half step forward, just enough to let the guards know they werent backing down. The clause says were entitled to more if we run into an ambush, a kill squad, or that walking war crime of a mech. If you want this drive, you tell us exactly whats on it. For the first time since they arrived, Garnash hesitated. It was quickjust a fraction of a secondbut Gravel caught it. Fangs voice crackled over comms from the ship. So . . . are we doing business, or do I need to warm up the engines? Gravel did not like that particular move. Too risky, even for his taste. Not a good idea to push a warlords buttons with thinly-veiled threats. He would need a word with Fang later. Garnash exhaled, then heaved, his tail flicking once. He turned to another replite humanoid beside him and spoke in a sharp, clipped language, characterized by short, rapid bursts of sound. The other reptilian, much more hatchling-faced and marked by a uniform number plate that read #3994 on their chest and a mechanical arm that looked like a beefed-up version of Priests, replied with rolling consonants and even throatier growls. Then Garnash turned back to Gravel and let out a slow, measured chuckle. Fine. You have nerve. And have my respect. Hunter crossed her arms. And? Garnashs smirk returned, but this time it was so tight it sealed his mouth shut like a zipped crocodile leather wallet. An extra thirty million. No more. Thirty-five. Thirty-two. Gravel glanced at Priest, then at Hunter. Fang was silent on the comms, but he knew she was listening. They had pushed their luck enoughpressing further would get them shot. Priest gave a slow nod. We will take the thirty-two. And we walk away clean. Garnashs claws drummed against his vambrace before he gestured to one of his people. A moment later, the transfer confirmation pinged on Priests wrist display. Done. McPherson never break word. Garnash held out his hand. Now, the drive. Priest hesitated again, but this time, he handed it over. Garnash took it, weighing it in his palm before tucking it away inside his armored coat. His gaze lingered on them for a beat too long. You are smart enough to not ask questions. Keep it that way. Gravel snorted. Well try. But no promises. Were not exactly known for our self-control. Hey, dont speak for us, Hunter retorted. Fangs voice cut in through the comms. Engines are primed. Can we go before lizard-boy changes his mind? Gravel jerked his head toward the ship. Lets move. No one turned their backs to Garnashs men as they walked away. Chapter 7: Space Opera Travel Map The cushions in the common room of the Black Fang were never quite the same color from patch jobs. Some were stitched together with whatever fabric had been cheapest at the last spaceport stop, and the patch right at the middle of Gravels favorite cushion would glow in the dark. One particularly suspicious stain on the armrest had been there so long that it had its own backstory. Gravel would tell a version, and Hunter would tell a different version of said story. Still, this room was the most intact part of the ship, probably because Gravel actually cared about it. A round, half-sunken couch formed a loose ring around the center table, a reinforced metal slab with heat stains from too many haphazardly placed drinks. Hunter had carved DONT TOUCH MY FOOD into the surface, only for Fang to add a much smaller, or do. Im not your boss. Someone had carved EAT MY DUST into the edge of the scuffed metal table where they sat, with handwriting that looked suspiciously like that of Fang. Hunter once asked if the young woman was the one who did it, but she just said the carvings had already been there when she bought it second-hand. Atop their heads, a mismatched assortment of LED strips flared at varying levels of brightness. The Arrays holo-display was propped against one wall, currently idle, save for the flare from the residual energy of their last comms call. Once they were deep into the safe zonefar from Theta-92, far from GarnashPriest finally spoke, I made a copy. Like hed just mentioned the weather. The words hung in the air. The growls of engines vibrated through the floor, occasionally sounding like somebody choked it by the neck. A holo-display cast shifting blue projections over the table. A second passed. Hunter, leaning back in her seat, jumped. What? Her tool pouch jiggled as she jumped. Gravel shot him a look. When? Before we left the bunker, Priest said, unstrapping his harness and standing. Just to have something to blackmail him if they ended up not fulfilling their end of the deal. He tapped his wrist console, bringing up a holo-display. I didnt take you for the leverage type. Or the maverick type. Priest glanced at him, unbothered. I take precautions. Hunter folded her arms, eyeing the holo-display. And now? We got paid. We got out. What exactly are we doing with this? Gravel leaned forward, elbows on his knees. This job was supposed to be a simple pickup. Instead, we walked into a kill box. That tells me this drive isnt just some forgotten relicits part of something bigger. Hunter frowned. Bigger how? Gravel smirked. Bigger as in, we could score big. If this things valuable enough for Garnash to throw an army at us, then someone else out there might be willing to pay even more. Hunter rolled her eyes. Its always money with you. Gravel shrugged, unbothered. Money keeps us flying. If Im correct, we barely had 600 thousand ducats in our account left before this. Maintaining a ship wasnt just about fuelit was repairs, docking fees, permits, replacement parts for systems that were never supposed to fail but somehow always did. And then there was gearhigh-powered firearms, reinforced armor, cloaking devices, rebreathers, atmospheric adaptersnone of it came cheap. Every mission left them with something busted, and every repair chipped away at their earnings like a parasite that never stopped feeding. Their typical job barely pulled in a few million ducats, which sounded like a fortune to anyone who didnt live on the edge of intergalactic travel. For them, the Black Fang crew, though? It wasnt enough to cover a month of expenses, let alone a year. Factor in the sheer distances they had to coverwarp fuel costs, hyperspace tolls, bribes for border skipsand they were constantly running on fumes, financially and literally. 547 thousand and three, to be exact, Priest commented. The truth was, Gravel had a knack for sniffing out profit where others saw dead ends. The crew owed more than a few lucky breaks to Gravels instinctslike the time he talked their way out of a bounty on Xethos-9 by selling Republic patrol routes to a pirate lord who happened to hate the Republic more than them. Or the time he found a buyer for a lost corporate prototype theyd technically never meant to steal. Then there was the salvage run on Elkkka Prime (yes, with three Ks)what was supposed to be a routine scrap haul until Gravel spotted the markings of an old smugglers cache in the wreckage. That job alone had paid for their last three engine overhauls. We dont need that much money, Hunter said. When you asked me to join, you promised me a ship to call home, and adventure. We still have both of those, dont we? Gravel half-grinned. Its not cheap keeping this home running, I tell you that. The hundred million we got is just gonna keep us floating for another year, maybe two if Fang stops buying coffee sourced from Earth. This can keep us well-off for good. Ten months, Gravel, with our current spending, Priest interjected. All the more reasons to go big. Priest crossed his arms. We need money, but a mission of lesser risk would still sustain us for another two to four months. We can do them over and over, as long as we manage our hazards. Gravel countered, Werent you the one who wanted us to take on a big one and settle down? To stop living this life? The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. If its within our capabilities. Hunter exhaled sharply. Our big one should not involve the corpos. Its in the code. Finally, she shot back. He needed her to let something out of her system, so he could clear up whatever hesitation she had in her mind. Yeah, if we are their lap dogs then no. But were exposing them. Gravel shot back, his voice low. Dont you want this? You remember what corpos did to you. Hunters gaze shifted away. Her fingers dug into the small tool pouch strapped to her waist, the worn leather creaking under her grip. Gravel saw ithe knew the scars those words stirred. Bad move. Shes gonna clam up again. Hunter, I Sure. Im on board, Rhyan. She clawed at the bridge of her nose. Gravel and Priest exchanged looks, and Priest shook his head just slightly. Gravel stood, hands spread. And Fang, you been listening? He spoke to the holo-projector which had been connecting with the cockpit the entire time. Uh-huh. Her voice was slightly distorted, a semitone deeper. Hows your debt repayment from that Neural Bond Speculation scheme going? Fangs voice crackled. Dont talk about that in front of everyone! We already knew, Fang, Hunter said flatly. I knew it was a scam, okay? I knew! I just thought I could get out with a good fortune before it collapsed. So, youre on board, Fang? Gravel asked. If I get a decent cut out of it. Ill make sure youre debt-free, kid. Count me in! Gravel could hear the sound of the back of her heels clicking against one another. You got room for more? I can sign my cousin up for it too! Doesnt your cousin work for the Republic? Gravel asked. No. Thats Jiye. Im talking about Jilin. Linlinnnnn! Would you like to hear about this new investment opportunity? Then she cut off comms. Gravel hoped she was joking about that one. That was easy. If you are about to sell our souls for cash, we should figure out what we are holding first, Priest said. You need money too, old man, Gravel said with a smug face. Youre still going for a beachfront property and a retirement fund. He sat back down, tapping his fingers on his knee. Were bounty hunters. When have we ever been scared for our lives? Gravel turned back to Hunter again, and she was still fiddling the pouch. He moved closer, kneeling with one foot on the ground. You really in on this? Yeah, she replied. You said it. Then . . . Gravel paused, looking at Priest now. Lets crack it open. Three versus one. Democracy, I guess. Priest sighed, then keyed in a sequence on his console. The holo-display shifted, lines of encrypted data scrolling faster than the eye could track. Fang. We need your expertise. The cockpit door slid open, and Fang strolled in like she owned the place. The faint circles under her eyes somehow got darker in the span of two hours. Finally, she said, cracking her knuckles. Lemme get my money. She plopped down at her station, cracking her knuckles theatrically before pulling up the data. Her eyes darted across the readouts as her demeanors shifted from amused to serious. This encryption isnt standard. Its layeredold Republic ciphers, but modified. Someones been playing with the deep-core protocols. Gravel frowned. Translation? Fang exhaled. Translation: whoever made this didnt want it getting out. And whoever tries to decode it without the proper key? She tapped a few keys, and a warning prompt flashed red on the screen. Gets hit with a full data wipe. You can make as many copies as you like, they will still be wiped all the same if you cant get through. Hunter let out a low whistle. That complicated, huh? Fang nodded. And that valuable. Then were gonna need a real expert for the job, Gravel smirked. And I know just where to find him. Richarlison? Hunter protested, He almost compromised our position last time. Gravel shook his head. No, not Charlie. Im not that desperate. Hunter exhaled, relieved. Good. Because I swear if we have to clean up his mess again Relax, Gravel cut in. Im talking about Vanje. A second of silence followed. Priests brow furrowed. Vanje? Is that the guy who sold out the Rasha Syndicate and walked away breathing? The very same, Gravel confirmed, stretching his arms. If anyone can crack this without frying the data, its him. Fang made a face. Hes a paranoid wreck. Last time I saw him, he had three different comm signals bouncing across six systems just to order a damn drink. Gravel shrugged. And yet, hes still alive. Thats gotta count for something. Hunter crossed her arms. You sure he wont sell us out? Gravel grinned. Dont worry. We go way back. Priest wasnt convinced. That is not reassuring. Yeah, Hunter added. The last person you said you went way back with tried to shove us out an airlock. Gravel rolled his eyes. That was a misunderstanding. Hunter scoffed. We were the misunderstanding. Fang sighed, leaning back in her seat. Look, Vanjes the best weve got if we dont want to risk a full data wipe. But if hes as paranoid as ever, getting to him wont be easy. Her hands kept rubbing against each other, and when they didnt, her thumbs fidgeted against one another. The girl could never stay still without at least some part of her body moving. Her itch to prance about even worse than Gravels. Gravel smirked. It never is. He glanced at Priest. Youre the one who wanted to follow the contract to the letter. That didnt work out too well for us, did it? Now we play this our way. Priest exhaled slowly but didnt argue. Fine. But we do this carefully. No surprises. Hunter shook her head, already resigned. Were about to walk into a mess, arent we? Fang flicked through the nav charts. Wheres Vanje holed up these days? Gravel grinned. Last I heard? A little place called Kestris-9. The room fell quiet. Fang groaned, rubbing her temples. Oh, for voids sake. Hunter muttered, Why is it always Kestris? Priest just closed his eyes for a moment. I hate that planet. He should know well. He used to work as corporate there. Gravel clapped his hands together. Then wed better get going. Fang moved an inch closer to Gravel and whispered, Please dont wear luminous clothing on Kestris. He smiled at her. Why not? Then extended his hands, palms outward as she glared at him. Kidding; kidding. Ill wear full black. Happy? Fang let out another groan. Chapter 8: Space Opera Workplace Conflict [Kestris-9, Gliese 9043] C Year 2749
The Black Fang dropped out of FTL just beyond Kestris-9s outer orbital lanes, its hull humming as it adjusted to realspace. The planet loomed ahead, wrapped in a swirling haze of industrial smog and city lights that flickered like embers beneath the toxic cloud cover. Even from this distance, Kestris looked hostile. Fang kept one hand on the controls, the other flicking through incoming transmissions. Still a nightmare, she muttered. Traffic controls a mess, local securitys running random sweeps, and Im picking up three different gang encryptions just on the public bands. Gravel leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed. Sounds like home. Hunter arched her brow. If your home is an overcooked scrapyard where everything is either trying to rob you or stab you, sure. Fang smirked. Or both. Efficiency. I was an Earthling, Gravel said. Wasnt far off. Priest exhaled, shaking his head. Every time we land on this rock, something explodes. Gravel grinned. That was one time. Hunter shot him a look. It was three times. Fang tapped a few controls, bringing up their approach vector. I dunno, Priest, maybe this time well get lucky. I have more experience with landings now. The ship suddenly shuddered as a garbled warning blared over commssome half-baked security transmission. Priest sighed, saying nothing more. Fang winced. Okay, that one wasnt me. Gravel pushed off the bulkhead and glanced at the flashing comms display. Guess were getting the standard Kestris welcome package. Hunter tilted her head, listening to the distorted transmission. Sounds like theyre saying unauthorized entry or unidentified vessel or . . . She frowned. Possibly prepare to be shot down. Fang rolled her eyes. Same thing, really. Priest pinched the bridge of his nose. Great. Gravel clapped a hand on his shoulder. Cmon, wheres your sense of adventure? Priest gave him a flat look. Buried. Fang cut in, her fingers flying across the console. Relax, Im sending the usual bribesI mean, landing fees. We should be fine. Probably. The comms crackled again, this time the voice slightly clearer. Black Fang, proceed to Docking Bay Twelve. Keep weapons powered down. No sudden moves. Priest murmured, I recognize this voice. Friend, or . . . asked Hunter. Priests eyes narrowed as the voice stirred an old memory. Neither, he said finally. But if it is who I think it is, we need to tread carefully. Gravels smirk didnt fade. You always say that. And I am usually right, Priest shot back. Fang guided the ship in, aligning with the designated docking coordinates. As the Black Fang descended through the thick smog, the landing bay came into viewa dimly lit industrial sprawl, its metal scaffolding lined with flickering neon signs; the one above the entrance flickered between WELCOME and the illuminating GO AWAY graffiti right underneath it, in cursive. Docking Bay Twelve wasnt the worst Kestris had to offer, but it wasnt far off. The moment the ships engines powered down, the hatch hissed open. Gravel stepped out first, and Fang quickly followed. Priest was next, acting a bit too hard to pretend that the city was too beneath him to be of any concern. Then came Hunter. She inched along the doorway, hand gripping the side. The backpack-shaped gadget was strapped to her back, the same backpack she had worn the first time he met her on Haret. The only tool belonged to Strokas that she kept with her. Over the years, shed tinkered with the tech and stripped away any trace of the Strokas logo, refining it piece by piece until it was almost unrecognizable from the original design. Now, it was more compact, lighter, and streamlined for efficiency, and its capabilities had expanded far beyond what it once was. Now, it housed a set of whip-fast, articulated mechanical limbs, capable of unfolding in an instant. The segmented appendages could extend deep into machinery, their precision tools adjusting dainty components or wrenching apart corroded panels with equal ease. When not in use, they retracted into the pack, hiding their presence behind shifting plates. Also, a built-in scanner pulsed in low frequencies. He had seen her use it to map out structural weaknesses in ship hulls or identify faulty circuits at a glance. The vent-like structures now served as miniature exhaust ports, capable of dispersing bursts of ionized gas to clear out debris or even provide a last-second stabilizer if she ever lost her footing in zero-G. Those were the only functions of the backpacks he had seen in all those years working together with her, alongside some signal jammers. Possibly the reason why she didnt bring it along on their first ground mission. He didnt know why she bothered carrying it with her now. Gravel locked eyes with her until she caught up. Weird. She wasnt this slow before. When Hunter finally moved past him, she didnt look back. She just shrugged and muttered, Spaced out. After they had had a staring contest. Half a minute after the landing struts engaged, a squad of armed enforcers stepped into view. At their center stood a purple-haired figure in a long, polished coat if not slightly wrinkled around the collars, her stance rigid, her face cast in shadow beneath the overhead lights. She stood with sharp, angular features, her cheekbones a bit too high, too pronounced, her posture a bit too confident, too rehearsed. She looked human, as with most residents on Kestris-9. But they had biologically engineered themselves enough after hundreds of years on this planet to call themselves an entire new race, the Mensch. Aside from a strong resistance against poison, Gravel didnt know if the Daskari were any different from Earthlings. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Priest cursed under his breath. Hunter glanced at him. Okay, so not a friend, then. You couldve told us. I didnt know she was in a position of power now, he replied. The comms crackled one last time, but this time the voice came through loud and clear. Black Fang, welcome back to Kestris. A pause, then a humorless chuckle. Dakarai. Its been a long time. Priest exhaled slowly. Too long. Gravels grin widened as he checked out Priests expression (or a lack thereof). Dakarai? Oh, this is gonna be fun. The ships ramp lowered with a hiss of pressurized air. The thick, humid atmosphere of Kestris-9 got Fang to cough so uncontrollably that she had to slap herself on the cheek to stop coughing. It did not help, and she hurt herself in the process. The armed enforcers stood in formation, weapons holstered but within easy reach. The woman at the center stepped forward, her coat shifting slightly with the movement. Priest squared his shoulders and stepped off the ramp first, Gravel, Hunter, and Fang close behind. The woman smirked, tilting her head. Still carrying yourself like youve got a badge, Dakarai? Or should I say, Priest? Gravel shot him a sidelong glance, but Priest didnt react. He just held the womans gaze in silence. Didnt realize youd traded street work for command, Sloan. Sloan spread her hands. Time changes things. People move up. Some disappear. Her eyes flicked to the rest of the crew, assessing. Youve been busy. Not as busy as you, apparently, Priest said evenly. Gravel cut in with a casual grin. Whats the deal with the monocle, Sloan? On your way to a fashion show? You caught me at a weird moment. I usually wear sunglasses. Oh, I didnt expect you to actually answer that one. Gravels grin got wider. This reunion is heartwarming, really, but were on a bit of a schedule. You called us in. What do you want? Sloans smirk faded slightly. That depends. What brings you back to my city, Priest? Hunter crossed her arms. Didnt realize Orkash belonged to you. Orkash was the name of this city. Sloan ignored her. I dont like surprises. And your ship dropping into my airspace unannounced is definitely a surprise. Fang shifted her weight, suppressing her coughs. Were here for a business meeting. Is that a problem? Sloans eyes lingered on Priest for a moment longer before she let out a breath, rolling her shoulders. Depends on who the meetings with. Priest hesitated. Lying outright wouldnt help them. But the truth? That was just as dangerous. Gravel, ever the smooth talker, stepped in. Just an old friend. Nothing that concerns you. Sloan chuckled, low and knowing. On Kestris? Everything concerns me. She looked back at her enforcers, then at Priest. Youre clearfor now. Just because we have history, Dakarai. But dont push your luck. Ill be watching. Sloan let the moment stretch before turning sharply on her heel. Her enforcers followed, boots clanking against the worn metal decking as they disappeared into the docking bays shadows. Hunter exhaled. That couldve gone a lot worse. Fang was already checking her datapad. Shes got her hooks in deep. Whatever Sloans running here, its big. Gravel clapped a hand on Priests shoulder, grinning. Dakarai, huh? So whats your deal with a corp officer? Priests eyes were still fixed on the docking bay entrance where Sloan had disappeared. Its not a deal, he said finally. Its history. Gravel chuckled. History that knows your real name. Thats the interesting kind. Priest ignored him and started walking. Lets move. The others followed, stepping out of the docking bay and into the streets of Kestris-9. The city hit them like a punch to the gutsmog-thick air, the scent of rust and fuel, the din of a thousand different deals happening in the shadows. The towering skyline was a mess of neon and decay, corporations looming above while the undercity festered below. Hunter kept her voice low. So, Slogan. Sloan, Priest corrected. Sloan, right. You two got a past or what? Priests jaw tightened. She used to be a regulator. Back when Kestris still pretended to have laws. I worked security for a logistics firm. Thought I was doing an honest jobkeeping shipments moving, making sure contracts were honored. Turns out, the company had other priorities. Fang glanced up from her datapad. Let me guess. You got played. Priest exhaled. More like set up. I dug too deep, asked too many questions. Hunter was waiting for him to share more of his story, but he didnt say a word after that. Gravel glanced at Priest, then at Hunter, then shrugged. Well, thats ominous. Priest didnt bite. He just kept walking, his eyes scanning the streets, cataloging threats the way he always did. The undercity had a rhythmone he hadnt forgotten. The way people moved, the way eyes flicked toward them and then away, gauging whether they were predators or prey. Gravel, ever the opportunist, grinned. You know, the more you avoid telling us, the more I assume its something juicy. Maybe an old flame? A long-lost sibling? Ohdid you run a cult? Please tell me you ran a cult. Priest gave him a sidelong look. I hate you. Gravel chuckled, unbothered. Thats pretty unfair considering Hunter was the one who asked in the first place, but alright. Ahead, the street funneled into a narrower passage, the flickering neon signs overhead casting uneven light on the damp pavement. The undercity was alive in its usual wayhushed conversations, occasional shouts, and all eyes on them. Fang tapped on her datapad. Were close. Vanjes holed up in The Hollow. She kept coughing her lungs out. Hunter sighed. Because of course he is. Gravel raised an eyebrow to Fang. You need a mask, kid? I dont know. Maybe allergic to the air here. Maybe allergic to this planet in general. Say it quietly, Hunter elbowed her lightly. Im sure the residents here share the sentiment, Fang replied. Hold on, Gravel rolled his eyes and reached into one of his jackets inner pockets, fishing out a compact, sleek air filter mask. He tossed it to Fang. Here. High-grade filtration. Got it off some smugglers who swore it could block out anything short of a toxic gas leak. Oh. I have one of that too. Hunter whistled. And you didnt care to give it to the kid? Gravel asked. I was about to. Fang inspected it. This isnt, like, repurposed from some shady black-market rebreather, right? Gravel grinned. Of course it is. Fang turned to Hunter. Can I borrow yours, then? Mines also a rebreather. These arent cheap, yknow. Fang groaned but slipped it on anyway. She took an experimental breath, then gave a slow nod. Okay, fine. This actually works. Then she took in the longest breath imaginable. Gravel patted his chest, but before he was able to say anything, Hunter glanced ahead. Alright, enough chit-chat. The Hollows not gonna find itself. Yes, Mom, said Fang, her voice through the mask sounded like the hisses of an Earthling rattlesnake. Chapter 9: Space Opera Medieval Tavern The Hollow was the kind of place you walked into knowing you might not walk out. It had the charm of a back-alley surgery and the hospitality of, well, a back-alley surgery. A relic of Kestris-9s past, it had survived gang wars, corporate takeovers, and at least two explosionsmostly because it was too much trouble to get rid of. The air was somehow worse than in other parts of the city, carrying a sharp mix of engine grease, old liquor, and something acridlike overheated circuitry left to burn in the damp. Its patrons thrived on secrecy, and its owner, a reformed smuggler with a mean streak, made sure no one caused problems they werent willing to die over. A pair of Virrok loitered by a rust-streaked alleyway, their translucent skin shifting between dark blues and purples as they murmured in their native clicks and trills. Virroks were bioluminescent, as it was the trendy evolution style of the 2700s for some reason, and their bodies basked in a subtle incandescence beneath their tattered cloaks. That trait made them terrible at hiding but excellent at intimidation when the light pulsed in just the right way. Priest slowed his pace as they approached the entrance. Hunter arched her brow. Having second thoughts? Priest shook his head, scanning the shadows. No. Just making sure we are not walking into an ambush. Gravel smirked. Cmon, whats life without a little risk? Priest didnt answer. Instead, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. The air got thicker as it mingled with a stale stench that had settled into the walls long ago. The low thrum of conversation buzzed just beneath the music, a slow, grinding beat that matched the blazing red lights overhead. The patrons barely looked up as the crew puttered their way through, though Priest could feel the shift in the room. The way some voices dipped lower, the way a few hands twitched closer to concealed weapons. The Hollow had a memory, and it remembered new faces. A pair of Trelvian sat hunched at a back table, their exoskeletal fingers clinking against shot glasses filled with something thick and dark. A Grinnak bartender wiped down the counter with a rag that did more smearing than cleaning, his two lower arms idly adjusting the bottles on the shelves while his upper set worked. His six black eyes locked onto them, his mandibles clicking in silent acknowledgment. Fang leaned closer to Gravel. Remind me why we keep coming to places like this? Ambience, Gravel said, grinning. Hunter sighed. If by ambience you mean the likelihood of getting stabbed, then sure. Stabbing you, maybe. My skin, on the other hand, is impenetrable. Reattach my spine, Priest. Reattach my spine, Hunter whispered. I said my skin is, not my bones. Gravels eyes locked onto a corner booth, where a skeletal figure sat, hunched over a datapad. The screens glow lit up the mans faceolder than the last time Gravel had seen him, more gaunt, more paranoid. His exoskeleton was cracked in places, the once-glossy surface now dull and weathered by years of secretion. His head, elongated with hollow cheeks and deep-set eyes, seemed too large for his emaciated body. Vanje. His fingers twitched when he noticed them, but he didnt bolt. That was a good sign. Lets greet our old friend, shall we? Gravel said. This is the first time Im meeting the guy, responded Hunter. Vanjes eyes darted around the room as they approached, his posture tense, fingers drumming an erratic rhythm against the table. He didnt look up until Gravel slid into the seat across from him, flashing a lopsided grin. Vanje, Gravel said, leaning back. You look terrible. And thats not just because youre a Trelvian. Did you lose a fight with a trash compactor, or is this a new fashion statement? He scoffed, rubbing one of his armored hands over his facea gesture that didnt quite match the smooth, mechanical flow of his limbs, but it made sense in the moment. And you look exactly the same. Which is impressive, considering the number of people whod like to see you dead. Also, can you keep it down? His gaze flicked to the others, assessing. His fingers twitched again, toward his datapad. Who are they? You sound so human, Fangs eyes widened. Its not me speaking, Vanje replied. His rigid, armored form hid the auto-translator implanted inside perfectly, if not for a hazy glow penetrating the exoskeleton around his neck every so often. His species, a cold and calculating race, lacked the ability to form words through human speechno tongue, no fully-functioning vocal cords. Yet, the voice of the auto-translator was carrying the near-perfect human-like inflection of a typical Earthling. Gravel had once heard from Vanje about the absolute hassle of vocalizing his name in ISL. His real name was Vrnjc BT, which was the result of the convoluted naming system of his species. Names in his world were more like serial codes than personal identifiers. Each letter and number denoted a specific designationheritage, function, even a timestamp of birth. Because spelling out individual letters in a Trelvian name required producing cricket-like chirps at precise frequencies, it made full-name introductions an absolute nightmare. ISL could approximate it with rapid finger placements, but it was a far cry from the real thing. To make things easier, most Trelvians opted for a shortened phonetic approximation of their name, reducing the required chirps from ten to just two or three. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Associates, Gravel said easily. Hunter, Fang, and the one glaring at you is Priest. Vanjes mouth twisted at the name. Priest. Right. He exhaled sharply and glanced toward the bar as if making sure no one was listening. Youre insane for coming here. Hunter crossed her arms. So weve been told. Fang tapped the table impatiently. Look, Vanje, we need your help. Help? Vanje snorted, shaking his head. You dont come to Kestris for help, you come to disappear. And right now, Id rather do the latter. If Kestris cared more about its security, it wouldve had a bureaucratic body scanning for necessary identification when the Black Fang landed. But there werent. The police force here was just a fine mix of corruption and incompetence, and they wouldnt bat an eye if they couldnt extract a few credits, and even then theyd more likely than not fail to extort their targets due to not having enough firepower to threaten them. Therefore, corporate armies ran amok. If you made sure to not touch corporate interests with a three-feet stick, you shouldnt have trouble with the law on Kestris. Sloan and her team were part of a private army under McPherson. Gravels grin didnt fade. Well, unfortunately for you, we have something that needs cracking. And youre the best there is. Vanjes fingers twitched once more. The best there was, he corrected. I dont do that anymore. Priest spoke for the first time, his voice quiet but firm. You do now. Vanje hesitated. His eyes flicked to Priest, then to the datapad in Fangs hands. His paranoia warred with his curiosity, as it was made clear to Gravel. Finally, he sighed. Alright. Show me what youve got. Fang placed the datapad on the table, screen glowing with the encrypted file. Vanje stared at it, then let out a low whistle. Oh, he muttered, rubbing his temples. You really know how to find trouble, dont you? Gravel spread his hands, his grin never quite reaching his eyes. Look, Vanje, I wouldnt be here if I had another option. But we go way back. You owe me. Vanje snorted. I owe you? Last I checked, I saved your sorry ass on Belthos Prime. And I saved yours on Korrin Station, Gravel shot back smoothly. Twice. Vanje huffed, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed. Thats debatable. He looked at the datapad again, gnawing the inside of his cheek. The crew could see the exoskeleton on his cheek bulging. This is deep stuff. Layers of old Republic encryption, custom modifications, likely a failsafe or twowhoever locked this down didnt just want to keep people out, they wanted to make sure no one even thought about looking. He exhaled sharply. Its impossible. Gravel leaned forward. Not for you. Vanjes fingers drummed against the table, faster this time. His eyes darted toward the exit. Even if I could crack itwhich Im not saying I canwhy would I? This kind of job? I might drop dead in a random alleyway next week. Gravel held his gaze. Because its me asking. Vanje scoffed. Oh, well, that changes everything. He threw up his hands. Tell you what, Gravel. If you want me to take this on, Ill need . . . oh, I dont know . . . sixty million ducats. Up front. Hunter let out a low whistle. You do realize we dont own a planet, right? Vanje smirked. Exactly. Which means I can go back to pretending I never saw you. He made a shooing gesture. Go ahead. Walk away. Gravel didnt move. He just tilted his head, smirk fading slightly. Come on, Vanje. If you really wanted us gone, you wouldnt have even looked at the file. Vanjes jaw clenched. He let out a slow breath through his nose, staring at the datapad as if it might burn him. Void take me, he muttered. Gravel leaned back, his smirk creeping back into place. Knew you couldnt resist. Vanje scowled. I havent agreed to anything. He tapped the screen with one finger. This encryption? Its not just any old system. Ive seen something like this beforemilitary-grade, but not just that. Its layered, built to self-corrupt if you prod the wrong way. And if I had to guess who put it together, Id say someone with a hell of a lot more firepower than you. Hunter frowned. Firepower like . . .? Vanje gave her a flat look. The kind that turns people into cautionary tales. Priest finally spoke up, his voice low. Youre saying its Republic black ops. Valle-44 beams. Vanje didnt nod, but he didnt deny it either. Could be. Or it could be someone pretending to be them. Either way, youre playing with something big. He rubbed his eyes, exhaling hard. If I do this, I need a clean setupisolated terminal, no outside interference. And youll owe me. A real favor. Not this I saved you on Korrin Station nonsense. Gravel didnt hesitate. Done. Hunter lightly slapped Gravel in the back. Our dear Captain . . . I know what Im doing. He winked at her. Fang raised a hand. What favor? Vanjes smirk returned, sharp and knowing. Oh, youll find out when I need it. Hunter groaned. Thats never good. Vanje pushed the datapad back across the table. Meet me at my safehouse in four hours. Ill send you the coordinates through an encrypted relayone-time access, no repeats. If youre followed, dont bother showing up. He eyed Priest warily. And keep your old friends off my back. Priest said nothing, but the look in his eyes promised nothing would be that simple. Then he slipped through the crowd, disappearing into the neon haze beyond the bars entrance. Hunter exhaled, leaning back. Well, that went about as well as expected. Gravel smirked. Better, actually. He didnt detonate the entire bar. Fang was already tapping at her datapad. Ill run scans around the meeting point when we get the coordinates. No way hes not going to have security. Priest, still watching the door, muttered, Not his security I am worried about. Hunter frowned. You think Sloans already watching us? Priest finally turned back to the table. Kestris is not the place to make a move without getting noticed. He pushed away. We should go. Gravel clapped his hands together, standing. Alright then. A fun game of counter-surveillance. He grinned. Havent lost a tail in a while. Hunter sighed. Your definition of fun is deeply concerning. Second that, said Fang. They filed out of The Hollow, stepping back into the restless streets of Kestris-9, where the neon shadows of the NOT VACANT signs overhead, in local language, cast over their backs. Chapter 9.5: Space Opera Gossip Girls (Fang) (NEW CONTENT) Fang sat on the edge of the motel bed, her boots kicked off, one leg tucked beneath her, the other bouncing idly as she scanned the holoscreen hovering above her wrist. The motel room was half-decentby galactic standards, even better than most. The walls werent stained with anything suspicious, the sheets smelled like actual detergent, and the air filter was working well enough that the room didnt have that stale, recycled tang common in budget stays. Someone had even bothered to slap a half-artistic, half-generic mural on one wallsome abstract swirl of blues and golds, meant to evoke a sense of serenity. Gravel had done well. Not that she doubted him. Even without the extra cash from their last mission, he always made sure the team stayed somewhere livable. He wasnt the kind of leader to let his crew hole up in a place that smelled like a mooing rostlock. If they were going to risk their lives on the regular, the least they deserved was a clean bed at the end of the day, was what he said. Fang had received Vanjes coordinates five minutes earlier. As soon as she did, her fingers slid across the interface, narrowing down the safest approach. Tch. Real considerate of him to pick the worst goddamn place to be stranded. She chewed on the inside of her cheek. She pulled up a rotating 3D map of Kestris-9s underbelly. The city itself was a labyrinth, but beneath it? An even worse mess. Centuries of old infrastructure layered over newer tunnels, maintenance shafts, and forgotten smugglers routes. She pinched and dragged the display, shifting through layers, toggling on security overlays and heat maps. Fang narrowed her eyes as she refined the maps parameters. With a flick of her fingers, she activated a LIDAR scan overlay, feeding in real-time topographical data gathered from the citys historical records and any recent seismic activity. The system reconstructed the underground with near-millimeter precision, highlighting potential collapses or areas where tunnels had shifted over time. Next, she engaged a ground-penetrating radar (GPR) simulation, cross-referencing it with known material compositions, before switching to electromagnetic field detection. She let the system sweep for active power lines, communication relays, and even abandoned but still-reactive components from old city infrastructure. A knock at the door snapped her attention up. Instinct had her hand flying toward her sidearm, a Standard Type-2 Laser Gun, several degrees less potent than Hunters. She didnt draw itjust let it rest there, fingers curled around the grip. Who? she called. "Priest. She relaxed. And whats old pop doing at my door? Passing through. She padded over, unlocking the door just enough to peer through the gap. Priest stood outside, as always looking like he belonged in a surgery room, not a backwater motel hallway. You wanna come in? She asked with a grin on her face. No. But I should. He stepped inside uninvited, which was fineshe left the door open anyway. How are the simulations? Fang swung the door shut behind him and strolled back toward her holoscreen, scaling up the map toward the center of the room so Priest could see. She paced around excitedly like a kid showing off a perfect test score to their parents. Alright, so the LIDAR overlay gave me a solid topographical read. Ground-penetrating radar confirms structural integrity for most of the usable routes, though theres some settling in the lower east quadrant. No full collapses yet, but I wouldnt risk any pressure-heavy movement there. She swiped the air and moved to another layer. Electromagnetic field detection mapped out active power sourcesmostly old infrastructure, but this cluster here, she tapped on a glowing red section, means theres still some live comms running through. Either old surveillance lines or a system someone forgot to turn off. Priest gave a slow nod, studying the readout. You know a lot about this. Fang grinned. Had to. My degree was in Interstellar Navigation, so these were part of my coursework. INS-202: Deep Space Cartography, INS-307: Planetary Terrain Mapping, INS- . . . uh . . . INS-something: Subsurface Scanning and Structural Analysis. Had a whole semester on GPR modeling alone. She rolled her shoulders. Mapping voids in asteroid tunnels isnt so different from navigating ancient sewer systems, turns out. Just less risk of getting shot at by sewer rats the size of a hover-bike. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Priest gave another slow nod. He didnt say impressive, but she caught the faintest hint of approval in his expression. She smirked. So? Whats old pop thinking? There are a couple good routes here that we can go without being caught by surveillance. Shed been calling him that since forever. Priest had never objected, never so much as raised an eyebrow at the nickname. And for a guy who had no problem calling out things he didnt likeusually with all the warmth of a surgical laserthat had to mean he loved it. At least, that was what Fang chose to believe. Priest gave the map one last glance, then gave a simple nod of approval. It is workable. Fang expected him to follow up with a question about logistics or risk factorssomething practical. Instead, he said, You went to university. She stared at him. Uh. Yeah? I was in uni once. Fang stared. You? University? Where? He didnt elaborate. Just nodded, like that was all there was to say on the matter. She squinted at him, waiting for the inevitable pivot back to work. It never came. Awww, cmon! I spilled my gut and soul to you, and you couldnt even give me the name of the uni you went to! Priest was silent for a moment, then finallyfinallysaid, Sathos Military Academy. Fang blinked. Once. Twice. Then her lips twisted into a grin. Wait. Sathos? As in the Space Border Corps Sathos? She folded her arms, tilting her head. Old Pop, you do know thats not really a university, right? A military academy. Huh. She knew Priest had experience, but shed never pinned him as the type to start out in a place like that. Not Republic, not a mercjust some underfunded border corps grunt, babysitting smuggler lanes and cleaning up after bigger factions. No wonder he didnt talk about it. Priest adjusted his cuffs. It was an institution of higher learning. She let out a sharp laugh. Yeah, military learning. That place is basically a boot camp with a few extra textbooks. The Space Border Corpstechnically a neutral peacekeeping force, independent from the Republic. But sadly, with all peacekeeping forces, they were barely-funded, barely-armed outfit reduced to catching small-time criminals on the edge of the galaxy. No one wanted to bankroll an army that could pose a threat someday. Fang was going to ask more, but furrowed her brow as a thought surfaced. Now that was weird. Priest never dropped a conversation about work midway. Hell, he barely entertained conversation outside of work at all. Small talk? From him? What next, was he gonna start gossiping about celebrity scandals? Well, they did gossip sometimes. Fang had once regaled him with a story about a smuggler who faked his own death by launching a decoy body into a sun, only to get caught because he couldnt resist attending his own funeral in disguise. Priest had merely sighed and muttered, Predictable. Sometimes, he even gave her advicemore often than not, judgmental ones, especially when she leaned toward the mischievous. Like the time shed spent an entire mission convincing some poor sap that she was an heiress to a galactic spice empire just to see how far she could push the lie. When she bragged about it later, expecting at least some admiration for her dedication to the bit, Priest just folded his arms and said, Deception is a tool. Dont waste it on entertainment. Fang, naturally, took that as permission to refine her craft rather than a warning. Having spent enough time with the old man, she knew the look he had on his face right now. Priest was getting sentimental. Or at least, as sentimental as a man like him could getwhich wasnt much, but just enough to set off her instincts. A slow grin spread across her face. Wait a sec. This isnt just some random trip down memory lane, is it? She folded her arms, leaning in. Did meeting your old flame stir something in that metal heart of yours? Priest exhaled, the closest he ever got to a scoff. She was a direct competitor, more than anything. Fang let out an exaggerated gasp. Ohhh, so there was something! Priest adjusted his cuffs again, which was what he did when he wanted to physically walk away from a conversation but couldnt. That only encouraged her. She threw her hands in the air and stomped on the ground once. Cmon, youre really not gonna elaborate? Give me somethinglove, rivalry, stolen glances across a battlefield Goodnight, Fang. And just like that, he was done. As he turned for the door, her grin got so wide it practically stretched into another dimension, the kind where Priest actually spilled personal details without being interrogated for hours first. Shed just uncovered something. She just had to figure out how to pry the rest out of him later. Chapter 10: Space Opera Tunnel Chase Priest took the lead, his gaze scanning every reflection, every silhouette that lingered too long. The neon haze of Kestris-9s undercity turned glass and metal into distorted shapes, but he caught the telltale movement of a figure half a block backhooded, moving when they moved, stopping when they did. Amateurs. Weve got a tail, he murmured. Hunter barely turned her head. One? Two more on the rooftops, Fang added, tapping her datapad as a drone pinged them with thermal scans which came back with red-hot blips. Theyre coordinated. Gravel exhaled through his nose. Friends of Sloan, or someone else? Gorodos? Mustafa? Dont know, Priest said. They turned a corner, slipping into the flow of foot traffic walking down the metallic stair heading from a floating tram station. The croaking of levitating rails overhead provided cover for their movement as Priest veered left, leading them into a dimly lit service corridor. The others followed. The moment they were out of sight, he spoke. Gravel ordered, Split up. Two blocks over, regroup at the old transit hub. The group scattered without hesitation, each one slipping into the shifting currents of Kestris-9s undercity. Priest stepped into the shadowed entrance of a maintenance tunnel in a measured pace. He didnt check over his shoulder, and he didnt feel the need to. If their tail was good, theyd be subtle. Hunter wove through a dense street market, hands brushing over hanging fabrics and worn-out machine parts, using the crowd as cover. She snagged a scarf from a vendors stall in one smooth motion, wrapping it over her shoulders to distort her silhouette. Fang, however, had other ideas. She ducked into a side street, pulled a small, palm-sized device from her belt, and flicked a switch. A barely perceptible hum sounded out as the device activated, sending out a pulse through the local net. Within seconds, her datapad lit up with thermal signatures, comm frequencies, and predictive movement patterns overlaid onto the street map. Two of their pursuers were communicating on a scrambled line. But their encryption? That was high-end corpo grade. Fang smirked. Gotcha. Hunters voice crackled over comms. Got what? Fang tapped a few controls, isolating their tails transmissions. Liberated a multi-spectrum recon node from McPherson R&D. Turns out their unbreakable firewall is just an overpaid intern copy-pasting bad code. Figured Id put their failure to good use. There was a beat of silence. Hunter, incredulous, whispered, When did you get that? Just happened to intercept a McPherson carrier ship on our way while you guys were receiving the mission. Hunter groaned. Fang, tell me you didnt. Fang gave her a rakish grin, eyes flicking between the incoming data streams. Relax. It was just sitting there, practically begging to be liberated. Also, Hunter, the fogs getting to my face. How do you adjust the tightness of this mask? Can I borrow it later? Fang furrowed her brow. So you can tear it apart to study the components just to not be able to reassemble the gear? No, thanks. Priests voice came through the comms, clipped and solemn. Focus. What else can that thing tell us? Fangs fingers flew across her datapad, rerouting the recon nodes passive scans. Two groups. Ones definitely corporatetheyre running McPhersons latest encrypted bands. Those might catch my signals; might not. The other? Freelancers, probably hired muscle. She exhaled. And theyre converging. Gravel, still nursing his drink at the bar, chuckled. I love when people make my job easy. Hunters voice was tight. Theyre trying to box us in. Priest was already moving. Fang. Fang pulled up a map overlay, her smirk returning. I might have a back door. Hunter sighed. Do I even want to know? Fang grinned. I dont recall a single mission failing because of me. Cant say the same for your aim, though. Gravel shot her a look. You want an honest answer, or the one that keeps our team dynamic intact? Fang winked. Doesnt matter. I already ran the numbersthis works. She typed a command on her datapad. Somewhere in the distance, a low hum reverberated through the undercity streetsa signal relay scrambling local feeds, throwing up ghost pings on surveillance grids. Priest didnt stop moving. Wheres this back door of yours? Fang turned down an alley, motioning for the others to follow. Old subtram tunnels. They were decommissioned years ago, but someone forgot to wipe McPhersons system logs. I found an access point. Hunter exhaled. And you just . . . have this information? Fang grinned. McPhersons security is like a fancy lock with a broken latchlooks impressive, but anyone who knows where to push gets in. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Gravel checked over his shoulder. Great. Love the plan. But in case it doesnt work, anyone got a Plan B? Hunter did the fingergun. Plan B is pew pew pew pew pew. Priest and Gravel sighed in unison. Fang reached a rusted panel embedded in the alley wall and pried it open, revealing a control pad covered in grime. Give me a sec. She tapped a sequence. With a deep mechanical groan, the panel slid aside. A maintenance tunnel, sloping downward, awaited them. There was almost no light. Hunter peered inside. That looks like a terrible idea. She reached behind her back and tapped a specific spot on her backpack. A set of appendages unfurled, each tipped with a bright LED beaming into the tunnel ahead. Shadows stretched and shifted along the damp walls and the rusted pipes above. And she kept denying when I said shes really into tentacles, Gravel said. Fang gestured with a clear overextension of her hand. Gentlemen first? Priest stepped inside, gun drawn. Move. Behind them, distant shouts echoed through the streets. Their pursuers were closing in. Gravel clapped Fang on the shoulder. Guess well see if your stolen techs worth the trouble. Fang sneered playfully, stepping in after him. Oh, its worth it. The panel slid shut behind them. With a tap on her pad, Fang activated the recon node. A thin, translucent display cast blue light over their faces. It mapped the tunnels ahead, lines shifting as it interpreted the subterranean pathways beneath Kestris-9. Hunter peered at the screen. Im still not over the fact that you somehow lifted this from McPherson and were just now hearing about it. Fang tapped a command, and a secondary feed overlaid security patrol routes. I dont tell you everything. Priests voice was dry. Thats an understatement. Gravel rubbed his hands together. Alright, lets move before our friends outside decide theyd rather take the direct approach. They started forward, the air heavy with the scent of metal and damp concrete. The tunnels were oldolder than most of the city above. Reinforced bulkheads, rusted pipes, and patches of ancient graffiti marked their path. Some of it was just scrawl, but a few symbols stood outgang tags and resistance markers in local languages that only Priest could understand. Priest took point, his movements controlled and precise. Two exits ahead. One leads to a transit relay, the other to a drainage hatch in sector fourteen. Fang studied the recon display. Drainage puts us closer to Vanjes safehouse, but its a tighter squeeze. Hunter made a face. And transit? More open. Easier to move, Priest said. Also easier to be seen. Gravel stretched his arms. Guess its a question of whether wed rather be rats or targets. Hunter sighed. Every plan B we have sucks. Fang smirked. Youre just jealous of my genius. As Priest led the way, his visor flickered to life, its HUD overlaying data in crisp, red-tinted readouts. Status: STEALTH MODE ACTIVE Threat Proximity: MEDIUM (Tracking: 3 hostile signals, estimated range: 50m) Route Viability: 77% - Moderate risk Environmental Analysis: Low visibility, air quality: suboptimal His eyes flicked to the threat markersthree signatures moving in sync above them, keeping pace. He subvocalized a command, and the visor zoomed in on the motion signatures, tagging them as UNKNOWN: POSSIBLE PURSUERS. Theyre still tracking, he murmured. Fang glanced over. How close? Fifty meters. Holding position, probably trying to confirm our exit point. Gravel whispered, Can you please change your settings to imperial measurements next time? You know, just to be synchronous with everyone else in the crew? No. I prefer it like this, Priest replied. Hunter grimaced. Focus, team. We cut through transit, well be in the open. Priests visor chimedALTERNATE ROUTE CALCULATED. RECOMMENDATION: DRAINAGE HATCH - SECTOR 14. He exhaled. We take the drainage hatch. Its tighter, but well lose them in the tunnels. Gravel groaned. Great. Cant wait to crawl through Kestriss finest sewage infrastructure. Fang tapped a few controls on the recon node, redirecting their path. Relax. Worst case, you come out smelling like the rest of this city. Hunter sighed. I hate Plan B. Except when its pew pew pew, huh? Replied Gravel. Priests visor flashed a final update. THREAT PROXIMITY: CLOSING. RECOMMENDED ACTION: MOVE NOW. He moved. No time for debate. Lets go. They slipped into motion, sticking to the edges of the alley as Priest led the way. His visor tracked their movements against the shifting data feedthree pursuers now thirty meters back, picking up speed. Fang knelt by the drainage hatch, prying up the rusted cover with a compact tool. This things ancient, she muttered. Hope none of your claustrophobic acts up. Hunter peered down into the darkness below. Uh . . . Depends on how shitty this place smells. Dont get too jumpy, Hunter, Gravel said. If you find it hard to breathe, just say the word. Less talking, more moving, Priest ordered. His visor pinged againTHREAT PROXIMITY: 20 METERS. Gravel swung his legs over the edge first. If I get eaten by a mutant rat, tell people I died a hero. Fang rolled her eyes and dropped in after him. Hunter followed, landing with a splash. The appendages swayed as she landed. Priest took one last glance at his HUD. The pursuers had split uptwo maintaining their approach, one moving to cut them off. Tactical recommendation: IMMEDIATE DESCENT. He didnt need to be told twice. With a sharp exhale, he slid down into the tunnels, sealing the hatch above them just as heavy boots pounded onto the pavement above. The tunnels stretched ahead in a maze of rusted pipes and stagnant water, the air thick with the scent of decay. THREAT PROXIMITY: 10 METERS. Theyre not giving up, Fang muttered, pulling up her recon nodes display. One of thems trying to track heat signatures. We need to throw them off. Gravel splashed ahead, grinning. I got an idea. He unclipped a small device from his belta thermal decoy. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it clattering down a side tunnel. Hunter cocked her head. You guys are never gonna tell me where you got your shiny toys, yet I always share mine with you. Gravel smirked. Oh, you know. Just happened to intercept a McPherson shipment on our way here. Fang snorted. Hey! Ive heard that one before! Priests visor updatedPursuers redirecting. Threat status: Diminishing. They took the bait, he said. We keep moving. They pushed forward, winding through the tunnels until Fangs datapad beeped. Were here. The tunnel ended at a rusted maintenance door. Priest gave a short knock. Three beats, then one. A second passed. Then another. Finally, the lock disengaged with a heavy clunk. The door creaked open. Vanjes gaunt face appeared in the dim light. Chapter 11: Space Opera Haggling Too bright! Vanje covered his face with his hands. Turn that thing off. Hunter tapped the same spot on her backpack again, and the appendages retracted. What, you dont like having four lightbulbs pasted in front of your face? Gravel asked. Vanje exhaled, the soft hiss of his exoskeleton''s ventilation system filling the silence as he tilted his head, the closest version of a head shaking a Trelvian could achieve with their thick exoskeleton wrapped around their necks. You people really know how to make an entrance. Vanjes lair was like what Gravel had envisioned, but at the same time, it wasnt. The walls were cluttered with jury-rigged tech, half-disassembled consoles, and an assortment of tools clearly designed for something other than human hands. Strange, multi-pronged instruments hung from the ceiling by retractable cables, their grips shaped for segmented fingers, while a mechanical rig in the corner held a set of reinforced exoskeletal bracerslikely maintenance supports for when his natural armor became too rigid. A lot more confident now youre in your own turf, huh? Said Gravel. Vanje shut the door behind them, locking it with a heavy bolt before turning back, tapping the tip of his slender fingers together. And you brought company all the way over here. Fang waved her datapad. Oh, please. You looked at the file, which means youre already involved. Hunter, can you help me loosen my mask? Now I am really your Mom. The redhead walked over. Vanje clicked his tongue, rubbing his temple. You realize the kind of heat this brings, right? Whoever locked this thing down wasnt just paranoid. They were smart. Like me. Thats the worst combination. Hunter finished loosening Fangs mask. You said impossible before. What changed? Vanje let out a sharp laugh. Or at least, his translator did, alongside the uncharacteristically audible chirp from inside him. Nothing. Its still impossible. He jerked his chin at the datapad. But now Im curious. And curiosity is a terrible habit. Gravel spread his hands. So? You in? Vanje walked toward an old workbench covered in scrap tech and outdated terminals, sat down, leaned back, tapping a command into his terminal. The metal workbench was covered in fine-tipped welding torches, resin applicators, and bio-synthetic sealants, which were probably necessary for repairing any cracks in his outer shell. The screen vomited lines of garbled text before settling into something almost legible. Ive already poked around at the data for ya. The crew leaned in as he pulled up the results. Most of the data was still locked behind layers of encryption, but a few lines of decrypted text stood out. PROJECT: VARIANT GENESIS SECURITY LEVEL: RED SUBJECT STATUS: ACTIVE MONITORING AUTHORIZED BY: UNKNOWN Always with the dramatic naming, these motherfuckers, Gravel clicked his tongue, grinning. Fang drummed her fingers against the console. So, like mutation and stuff? Would explain why some of the wildlife on Namor looked like it crawled out of a nightmare. Vanje moved his finger up and down. More corrupted text scrolled pastthen a fragment cleared. INITIAL TEST SITES: NAMOR-4, KESTRIS-9, CRIMSON-4, VEIHOLD RESTRICTED ZONE The crew turned back after an audible gasp from Fang. Crimson-4. Thats where my boyfriends at. Her face was pale, like a reflection from a hologram with too much interference. Gravels grin faltered for half a second before he masked it. Hunter angled herself closer to Fang, as if ready to catch her if she swayed. Theyre testing on this very planet? Hunters voice was low. Where the hell is Veihold? You asking me? Said Vanje without turning back. Yes. How should I know? Im just a guest on this planet, like yall. Hunter turned to Priest. Priest? You worked here. I have heard of Veifield and Veicon Valley. Never Veihold, Priest replied. Vanje kept scrolling. Another section partially unlocked. SUBJECT GROUP CATALOGUE: PHASE 3 HUMAN VARIANTS [REDACTED] TRELVIAN VARIANTS [REDACTED] SECONDARY SPECIES ADAPTATION: ONGOING FULL INTEGRATION PROJECTION: N/A The room went dead silent. Hunter narrowed her eyes. Theyre doing this across species? Oh look! Gravel clapped. Both us and you, Van! Vanje sat back. Means they either didnt plan for whatever this was to stop . . . or they lost control of it. So youve been to Namor? Got this drive from there, Gravel said. You can make your own deductions from what you saw there. Im just pulling data. Hunter exhaled sharply. And here I was hoping we were just sitting on some corporate fraud files. Vanje tapped his console again, tilting his head. Thats all I can get for now. Whatevers left is locked behind higher encryption. He looked at them. I need time. And resources. He gestured. Cracking this isnt about brute force. Its about finesse. Ill need to piggyback off a high-level corporate relay to even start unraveling the encryption. He reached for a narrow, pen-like instrument on his workbench, and turned it on with a sharp whirr. A thin line of gel extruded from its tip as he ran it along a faint crack in the plating near his shoulder. The gel hardened, and a smooth, glistening layer blended with his exoskeleton as he put the instrument back on the bench. Fangs eyes narrowed. You have a lead on one? Vanjes mouth barely twitched, but the subtle shift in the angle of his exo-helmets edge suggested a smirk. I might. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Priest crossed his arms, visor dimming as he studied him. Whats the catch? Vanje sat down, stretching out his legs. Oh, theres always a catch. He steepled his fingers. Youre gonna have to break into a corporate data vault. Republic. McPherson. Gilneas. Austjsocs. Your choice. Silence. Gravel let out a low whistle. Well, arent those some fun options. Vanje shrugged. Welcome to my world. He leaned forward, tapping the datapad. The vault is where they keep their deepest secrets. And we dont need everythingjust the right key to get past the first few layers. Do you realize what happens if we get caught? Priest turned to Gravel. Do we really need to unravel this secret? Gravel exhaled through his nose, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. Need is a strong word. He tilted his head toward the datapad. But lets put it this way. Someone went through a hell of a lot of trouble to keep this thing buried. If we let it go, were walking away blind. Do you want to walk away blind, Priest? Sunk cost fallacy, Gravel, Priest retorted. Gravel scoffed. Sunk cost fallacy? Please. Youre the white knight for justice. Remember that time we just had to rescue those children under the Topassium mine because you felt like it was the right thing to do? You were the first one who mentioned saving the kids, Hunter chimed in. Gravel replied, Thats what I meant! Priest agreed with that too! Think about all the other children all over the galaxy that we can save from becoming subjects of mutations against their will. He gestured broadly at the datapad. We already saw what was on Namor. That wasnt some one-off freak accident. And now we know Kestris and Veihold were in the mix too. You really wanna tell me youre not even a little curious what the hell human variants means? Hunter replied, more hesitant this time, Forced mutations . . . Are you sure this isnt just about you? The room fell into silence once more. Even Fang, who had been prancing back and forth, stopped. Gravel hadnt been thinking about his own forced mutation. Not at all. But the second Hunter said those words, a name clawed its way to the front of his mind. Dr. Stein. He had been doing a damn good job of not thinking about that man. Of not remembering the wheezing voice, the sterile scent of antiseptic, the way his body had never quite felt like his own after the injections. He stared at the ceiling. Then let out a short, dry laugh, opened his mouth, shut it, then opened his mouth again. Careful, Hunter. You almost sounded insightful for a second. She didnt reply. Priest asked, Suppose you are right, and we are uncovering inhumane practices on an astronomical scale. What do we do if we find out? Are you going to save the galaxy? We find people who wants to save the galaxy and sell the data to them! If we get past this bottleneck, its easy money. Some people murder others over this kind of money, Priest. I want a 15% cut of whatever amount you sell the data for, Vanje spoke. Deal. Send me a contract via Sye and Ill sign it off. Sye was a smart contract-based virtual wallet, meaning it operated on automated, self-executing contracts stored on a decentralized ledger. Since Sye ran on a decentralized ledger, the contract could not be altered or voided unilaterally. Gravel turned to the others. Hunter, back me up here. Redeem the dumb thing youve just said. You love a good corpo scandal. Hunter looked at them, and said nothing. Well? Gravel asked again. Hunters hand fiddled on the place on her belt where her tool pouch sat. I already said yes. You dont have to convince me twice. Gravel sighed, then turned to Fang. And youtell me you dont wanna crack this open. Fang leaned forward, tapping the side of her holo-slate with a seldom-seen fire. I dont want my Kai turned into a mutated sabertooth tiger. Kai was the name of her boyfriend. We gotta protect Fangs loverboy, team, or else shell be eternally depressed. Gravel threw his hand upward. Priests visor flickered as he processed the situation. Alright, lets assume this goes sideways. We break in, trip an alarm, and McPherson sends half their security force to drag us out in cuffs. Whats the escape plan? Gravel exhaled. We wing it. Priest stared. Thats not a plan. Hunter sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Gravel, were good, but were not take on an entire corporate task force good. Fang was practically flouncing about now, tapping furiously on her holo-slate as her movements became brisker. Then we dont fight them. We outmaneuver them. She pulled up a rough layout of the city surrounding the McPherson facility. If we fail and securitys on us, we dont try to shoot our way out. Instead, we retreat to a secondary point. Somewhere crowded. Somewhere McPherson wont want a firefight. She shrugged off Hunters hand as the latter tried to keep her in one place. Im good. Dont mind me. Fang zoomed in on a transit hub marked Skyway Terminal. We make for the hub. Too many civilians, too many cameras. McPherson wont risk an open battle in a public space. From there, we slip onto a commercial hauler with falsified IDs and get to the dock. Hunter frowned. And what if they shut down all transit out of the city? Thats a tall order. McPherson, or Gilneas, or whoever were liberating from, are powerful, but theyre just corpo. They dont run the entire city. Fang did a 360 degree spin for no reason. But if it does happen, we really improvise. Gravel grinned. See? Thats a plan. Priest folded his arms. That is a half-plan. We would need pre-set IDs, a clean ship to board, and a way to retrieve the Black Fang once were clear. If McPherson locks down the docks, we are not flying her out. Fang walked in circles and drummed her fingers on her holo-slate. Then we hack the docking system first. We override the lockdown protocols before we go in, not after. Priest replied, Preloading an authorization signal. Fang nodded. Exactly. Before we hit the vault, I slip a backdoor command into the system. When we need to leave, we remotely trigger a fake clearance override justtt long enough to lift off before they figure it out. Can you slip past their security measures unnoticed? I didnt say unnoticed. Just not immediately noticed. Hunter raised an eyebrow. So best-case scenario, we walk onto a hauler, let it take us past the security perimeter, ping the Black Fang to auto-launch, and dock with it mid-flight? Fang snapped her fingers. Bingo. For some reason she curled a leg back, which became an accidental back kick to the workbench behind her. An exoskeleton bracer that was hung on the wall dropped on the workbench with a thud, lying on top of the pen-like instrument Vanje had just placed earlier. Oops. Im so sorry! She turned back and gasped. Hope I didnt break anything. Vanje immediately hurried over to examine the potential damage, flipping over tools after tools. From behind his exo-exterior echoed a series of incessant chittering that didnt stop for another ten seconds. Somehow, his auto-translator only seemed to have caught the last two words. All good. Keep your impulsive tick in check, Fang, Priest said. Fang nodded once, mouthed another sorry before crossing one leg behind the other, presumably in an effort to keep them from moving. It didnt last long. Hunter gestured for Fang to move away from the workbench with a frown on her face. She silently did as told, and when Fang started pacing with her knees raised too high again, Hunters frown deepened. Worst case? Gravel asked Fang. Fang shrugged. We improvise. Priest sighed. Of course. Gravel clapped his hands. Boom. Full plan. Dust swirled all around the hideout as he clapped. Priest drew out his next exhale. Fine. Hed already envisioned Plan C and Plan D to get them off-world as he pulled up the data overlays from his visors. McPhersons vault is the most locked-down, but they move data more often. Higher risk, but also higher chance of finding an exploitable gap. Fang smirked. And, you know, I already helped myself to some of their tech. Hunter exhaled. Of course you did. Gravel rubbed his chin. Gilneas and Austjsocs are heavy on automation. Fewer boots on the ground, but I heard their AIs are a nightmare. Vanje moved his exo-helmet up and down, resembling a nod. You heard right. And Republic? Well, youd be robbing the government. Whichcall me crazyseems like the worst idea. Hunter glanced at the others. So. Whos feeling suicidal? Gravel grinned. I vote McPherson. Right after we just did business with them? Asked Fang. Might as well do business again, replied Gravel. Weve got experience now. Priests visor chimedRISK ANALYSIS: HIGH. SUCCESS PROBABILITY: UNKNOWN. He sighed. McPherson it is. Chapter 12: Space Opera Long Distance Relationship The mag-lev system purred as the elevator glided downward, its walls lined with sleek, matte-white panels that reacted to system diagnostics with a rhythm similar to slow heart beats. Soft blue holo-displays shimmered along the edges, cycling through facility schematics and security clearance levels. A touch-sensitive interface hovered midair, its translucent glyphs shifting in response to their forged credentials, the dim glow of status lights reflecting off the stolen McPherson maintenance uniforms. The most elevator-y corpo elevator. This elevator reminded Priest of what he considered a low point in his life. Ten years ago, he had been fixing systems, but not anything close to this. Back then, it was air conditioning units and routine maintenance in a cramped, corporate backwater. The kind of work that had no business being handled by someone with his aptitude. But he was doing such jobs, fixing temperamental climate systems in retrofitted public pseudo-parks, the kind where holographic birds flitted across artificial trees, but where the ACs constantly malfunctioned in the worst way possible. What bothered him, though, was that his employer had never hired him for his skills. No, he had been picked upalmost out of nowherebecause of something far simpler. He was a blank slate, someone with no records, no history. His employer had spotted him collecting unopened sauce pads at a public pseudo-park. He had been a pity hire. The murmurs from Gravel travelled to Priests ear as the former adjusted his ID badge, rolling his shoulders as he practiced his lines. To the other side of Priest, Fang tapped at a holo-slate, her lips barely moving as she whispered into her private comm. While she spoke, her fingers flicked through security subroutines, casually silencing any automated surveillance pings. Before she started the call, Gravel had asked why she couldnt just write a few lines of code and shut down the surveillance system for good, and shed gone off with how the system was designed to detect and counteract unauthorized access attempts, and how there were offline backups and manual overrides. Gravel had yawned. I know, I know, she murmured. Youre busy with your dissertation. But its been weeks, Kai. You could at least pretend to miss me. Or, I dont know, send me a holo-pic of Gonzo. Gonzo was the name of his feline friend, a cat-like creature the size of a goose. A pause. Her expression softened. No, Im not getting into trouble. Another pause. No, Im not sick. Not turning into an AI. Im just wearing this really uncool mask. Gravel arched a brow, glancing at Hunter. Hunter, with her backpack strapped on her back, snorted at him. Fang shot them both a glare before turning back to her comm. I gotta go. Love you, too. Mwah. She ended the call, tucking the earpiece away just as the elevator dinged. Hua Fang already compromised the camera system earlier, and she felt like rewarding herself with some lovey-dovey talk with her boyfriend whom she had dated since forever. Gravel shook his head, grinning. Remind me again why you, of all people, are dating some upright academic? Does he even know how to hotwire a speeder, or is that too unethical for him? Fang scoffed, crossing her arms. First of all, Kai is brilliant. Hes working on predictive models that could revolutionize interstellar logistics. See; see? She held up a holo-slate displaying a dense academic paper filled with equations and data visualizations, then turned it off before any of them could have a good look. Second, he actually readslike, real books, not just mission briefs and bounties. Third, he isnt here to listen to you gush, Hunter cut in, smirking. Fang ignored her. Hes also ridiculously patient. Do you know how hard it is to find a guy wholl stay up late just to entertain me with stories about She stopped mid-sentence. Gravel followed her gaze. A McPherson security officer stood at the far end of the hallway, checking his datapad. Oblivious, for now. Hunter exhaled. Well. That killed the mood. Priest, who had been silent the entire ride down, barely moved as he muttered, Talk later. Move now. Fang straightened, slipping seamlessly back into character. Right. Maintenance team, coming through. She stepped forward first. As Gravel was about to follow along, Hunter nudged him with her elbow and said, Remember your persona. Soldiers dont budge without orders. No matter how good your story is. Gravel just grinned. The deliberate cadence of their footsteps on the gleaming floor merged with the faint, pervasive drone of servers and equipment. Fang took the lead, clutching a clipboard as if it held the weight of a thousand service requests. Hunter and Gravel flanked her, while Priest lingered just behind, his visor, now transparent and barely visible only to him, quietly scanning for potential threats. The security officer barely glanced up at first, absorbed in his datapad. But as they drew closer, his gaze flickered toward them, then lingered a second too long. Fang didnt hesitate. She rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh, though the irritation she showed afterward as she flipped through her clipboard was much more convincing. Oh, great. Security. Just what I needed. Let me guessnobody put in the system ticket for the cooling unit recalibration, and now were supposed to just wave a magic wand and fix it? The officer frowned, his grip on the datapad tightening. I wasnt informed of any maintenance today. Of course you werent, Fang huffed, gripping the clipboard a bit too tightly. Because the system is a mess. Corporate cutbacks mean half the facility is running on outdated scheduling software. But sure, lets all stand around and wait for the server banks to overheat. Your call. She had to stop herself from using slangs like corpo that would definitely raise suspicions. She turned slightly, ready to march past him without waiting for permission. Gravel made a show of checking his wrist device. Yeah, clocks ticking, buddy. This isnt the kind of problem you want to let slide. The officer didnt say anything. His eyes darted between them, then to his datapad. Priests visor overflowed with new datahis pulse had elevated slightly, but no immediate alert had been sent. He was wary, but not suspicious enough to sound the alarm. Yet. Gravel decided to help things along. He let out a long-suffering groan. If you want to clear it with admin, go aheadjust know that Then he hesitated as he saw Hunters eyes boring into his. Gravel straightened and adjusted his tone. Look, were not here to cause trouble. Were on scheduled maintenance, and if theres an issue, you need to check with your superior. Call it in. Well wait. The officer exhaled sharply, considering. Then, with a grunt, he stepped aside. Fine. But keep it quick. Fang flashed a tight, professional smile. Well be done in a jiffy. They walked past without breaking stride, but of course, not without Hunter giving Gravel a subtle sideway stare and making sure he felt it. Only when they rounded the corner did Fang exhale, whispering into her comm, And that, gentlemen, is how you fake your way through corpo bureaucracy. A jiffy? Really? Is that the new teencode these days? Gravel asked. Hunter smirked. Still doesnt explain how you managed to date someone so honest. Fang rolled her eyes. Oh, shut up and let me work. Priests visor signalled to him through haptic feedbackTHREAT PROXIMITY: LOW. ACCESS POINT: 30 METERS AHEAD. They were in. Priests visor guided them through the labyrinth of corridors, past sterile-white panels and silent security cameras. Fang tapped at her holo-slate. Im in the network. Patching Vanje through now. A soft chime confirmed the connection, and Vanjes voice crackled in their ears. Alright, youve got a five-minute window before the system notices somethings off. Get what we need and get out. Gravel rubbed his hands together. Smoothest job yet. Priests lips pressed into a thin line as he looked at Gravel. The man had a habit of calling things done prematurely. A small part of Priest respected itthe sheer, reckless confidencebut in this line of work, it was dangerous. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it To say nothing of the fact that Gravels smooth jobs always seemed to attract some unforeseen complication down the line. But it wasnt just Gravel. The whole team had their little quirks that made Priests teeth itch, like small stones rubbing against his heels. Dont jinx it, muttered Hunter. How about sushi after this? Gravel asked. Are we still going on with that? She glared at him. Hunter, for example, had a tendency to ask questions. Sometimes she did it to keep herself calm, but it had a way of disrupting the tight, synchronized rhythm Priest preferred. Shed ask questions mid-operation, as though they had all the time in the world to discuss the best angle of attack on a target or the latest gossip from the mercenary circuit. Fang, meanwhile, had her own way of getting under his skin. She wasnt as inquisitive as Hunter, but the woman never stopped talking. She was prone to making unnecessary movements and chattering incessantly, whether it was commentary on the job, gossip about some mercenary theyd crossed paths with, or even random thoughts on the most trivial things. Sometimes, Priest swore she could turn a simple task into a five-minute monologue. It wasnt just the volumeit was the distraction. You could feel the focus slipping from the mission whenever she got started. She would never be like that in front of a control panel, or a holo-screen. But her real-life persona was a different one. Priest had given them talks, more than a dozen times. Be careful. Stay quiet. Stick to the plan. Theyd nod, of course. Fang would even give him that rare, understanding smile. Gravel would slap him on the back and tell him not to worry so much. But out there, on the field, it was like everything he said vanished into the wind, bouncing back like a softball off a brick wall. That kind of respect was a greater kind of disrespect to him. But this misfit non-functional ragtag of a crew had saved his life from the miserable hellhole he had been in, ten years earlier. For now, he would do what he could to keep them afloat. They reached the access terminalan unassuming console tucked between two towering server racks. Priests eyes moved in sync with his fingers as he linked into the system. Data began to stream onto Fangs slate, layer by layer unlocking under Vanjes remote decryption. Then, everything stopped. Priests visor flickeredSYSTEM INTERRUPTED. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS FLAGGED. A chill ran down his spine. Someone else was here. He turned. And saw her. Standing just beyond the servers, half-lit by the cold glow of a status display, was Sloan. She looked like a corporate ghost, all sharp edges and a sharper smile. The slight tilt of her head told Priest everythingSloan wasnt surprised to see him. She had been expecting this. For a second, he wasnt in a corporate facility. He was back in the underbelly of Helion Prime, rain hammering against rusted steel walkways, his breath ragged as he aimed down his sights. Sloan had been there toosame smirk, same calculating eyesher pulse pistol steady despite the firefight raging around them. Youre outgunned, Dakarai, she had said, voice smooth over the comms. But I like you. So Ill give you a five-second head start. Priests hands curled into fists as he pulled himself back to reality. Problem? Gravel whispered, noticing his shift in posture. Priest didnt answer. He kept his voice even, but the weight behind it was unmistakable. Keep working, children. Ill handle this. His visors HUD zoomed in on Sloan, scanning for weapons, comm signals, anything that would suggest she wasnt alone. The results were inconclusive, but knowing Sloan, she didnt need backup to be dangerous. It was unsettling how silent Sloan was as she stepped forward. She wore the same tailored corporate security attire as always, crisp and professional, but the glint in her eyes was all mischief. McPherson security is supposed to be different from the city security officer department. Whys she here? He thought. Dakarai, she drawled, tilting her head. Didnt expect to see you breaking into corporate property today. And here I thought you were done with all this . . . extracurricular activity. Fangs hands froze over her holo-slate, eyes darting between Priest and Sloan. Hunter shifted her weight. Gravels fingers hovered near his belt, where he had a Morkanian knife tucked under the maintenance vest. Priest exhaled slowly. Are you going to call this in? Sloan tapped her chin. Depends. Whats in it for me? Priest kept his voice steady. We walk, and you dont get a bullet in you when things get messy. Sloan chuckled. Oh, Priest. Always so serious. She took another step forward, dropping her voice into something almost conspiratorial. But you know meIm not interested in stopping you. Im interested in whats behind those firewalls. And lucky for you, I know how to crack them. Fangs brow furrowed. We already have someone handling that. Sloan replied, Oh, Im sure Vanje is doing his best. But lets be realcorporate security is a different beast these days. You want past the deeper encryptions? You need something special. You need me. Priest didnt like where this was going. And what do you want in return? Sloan grinned, and the faint outlines of future crows feet creased at the corners of her eyes. Simple. A favor. No questions asked. No backing out. Im sure Vanje asked for a similar deal. Gravel didnt wait. His instincts must have, once again, screamedthis wasnt negotiation, it was a distraction. Theyd seen it before, the way Sloan moved, the way her fingers subtly shifted like she was queuing up a silent alarm. Nope. Drawing a compact pulse dart from his belt, he flicked it forward. The tiny projectile buzzed past her ear, deliberately missing. Sloan dodged out of instinct. That was all Hunter needed. Before Sloan could shift weight to counter, Hunter was there. No hesitation, no wasted motionshe flicked her wrist, activating a modified shockwave stunner. A near-invisible pulse rippled out, distorting the air between them in a silent whump. Sloans body locked up mid-step, then collapsed, her limbs going limp all at once. She hit the ground, sprawling like a marionette with its strings cut. Her datapad clattered beside her, screen flickering with half-typed lines of texts. Hunter wasnt sure if they were security overrides. Priests visor pingedSECURITY ALERT: CANCELED. ACCESS PROTOCOL OVERRIDDEN. Hunter exhaled, already stepping over Sloans unconscious form. She was stalling. Gravel scoffed. Obviously. Good call on the ragdoll trick, though. Thats the funniest Ive ever seen her look. Fang didnt spare Sloan a glance. She was already moving, pulling up their extraction routes. She wont be out forever. We need to pick up our damn speed. Priest nodded, stepping around Sloans limp form, his visor dimming the threat marker on her. COMPROMISED ASSETIMMOBILIZED. Shell remember this, he muttered as they started running. Hunter snorted. If someone did that to me, Id hold a grudge forever. Fangs fingers danced across her holo-slate, pulling up the quickest route to the secondary exit. Theres a maintenance tunnel that feeds into the east service corridorgets us to the roof access in three minutes if we hustle. Gravel was already ahead, sweeping the hallway with a quick glance. Lets hustle, then. Priests visor flickered with updates. SECURITY ALERTS: PARTIALLY SUPPRESSED. PROBABILITY OF REINFORCEMENTS: 72%. Too high. They sprinted down the sterile corridors. Fang tapped a sequence into her wrist module, sending a false diagnostic report through the systemdelaying security just a little longer. As they rounded the corner, a metal grate came into view. She slid to a stop and knelt, prying it open with a quick flick of her wrist tool. In. Now. One by one, they dropped into the tunnel below. Of all the lightbulbs above, only one bulb worked, making the place look like a halfhearted horror set. Priest was the last to descend, pulling the grate back into place just as distant footsteps echoed behind them. The tunnel was tight, forcing them into a crouched run. The air was thick with the scent of old wiring and coolant, and faint emergency lights flickered along the edges. Fang pulled up the schematics. Straight ahead, ladder to the roof access in twenty meters. Gravel grinned. Easy. Then Priests visor sent him another visual cue. WARNING: HOSTILE SIGNALREANIMATING. Sloan was already waking up. Maybe people on this planet had a different type of tolerance to stunners, or maybe just her. Move now, Priest ordered. They pushed forward, reaching the ladder in seconds. Fang climbed first, then Gravel. Priest took a final glance backhis visor flashing with a proximity alert. Sloan was fast. Too fast for someone whod just been tased two minutes earlier. The second he grabbed the rungs and pulled himself up, a shadow darted into the tunnel behind him. Then he heard her voice, hoarse but filled with venom. You shouldve killed me. Stun doesnt work that well against a Mensch. Oh yeah, Priest only registered. Just because she looks like an Earthling doesnt mean she is. A sharp clink. A tracking dart hit his boot. Hunter was behind Priest, staring at that dart like she was an intern on her first day staring at the International Space Station. Gravel yelled at her, Get it off, Hunter! Only then, she awoke. Hunter elbowed her backpack with her left elbow, and immediately the backpack vomited a toolkit to her right-hand side, dropping on the spread palm of her right hand that was already waiting. She pulled out a specialized extractor tool with superhuman speed, slid behind Priest and attached it to the darts base. The extractor clicked, but the dart stayed in place. No time, Priest told her. Climb. Move. Survive. Gravel reached down, grabbed his arm, and yanked him through the hatch. They burst onto the roofblinding city lights stretching before them. Fang keyed the remote beacon. Vanje, we need pickup now. Sloans voice crackled through their comms, distorted but unmistakably amused. You got out. Cute. But you wont stay hidden. Youre on McPhersons radar now. Priest exhaled. He glanced at his bootthe tracking dart still glowing faintly. Theyd gotten away. Chapter 13: Space Opera Drone Strike The wind clawed at their clothes as they stood above the sprawling labyrinth of Orkash. Gravel yanked the tracking dart off Priests boot, glaring at the blinking light before smashing it under his heel. The device barely made a sound as it cracked against the pavement. They really have tracking devices this obvious, he muttered. But when he checked, the blinking light persisted. If anything, the flashes became more annoying. He cursed under his breath and tried again, this time pulling it apart with his hands, but the dart held. Take your boot off, Priest, he said. From Priests experience with these devices, he knew the system would log their location until the moment the dart was destroyed. He got down on one knee to take off his boot. Hold up, Hunter said. Gravel stepped back. She knelt beside them, pulling out the same specialized extractor tool from her belt. She stared at it and muttered, Wait. This is useless. Then she pulled out a good, old-fashioned razor blade. Hunter carved around the surface of the boot where the dart had lodged, slicing through the leather in a single motion. The small piece of the boot came free with a snap, and the tracking dart fell into her hand, now fully dislodged. She threw it as far away as she could. Impressive, surgical approach, Priest said, raising an eyebrow. Admittedly, Priest wouldve tried to key in more commands into that extraction tool. But Hunter didnt do commands. She was the only one who didnt do commands. Hunter smiled. Gravel stared at her, opened his mouth, but finally said nothing. Fangs holo-slate pinged. Vanjes voice came through, thick with static. Flight paths set, but you need to move. East rooftop, ten seconds. Priests visor flickered with updatesno immediate pursuit, but Sloan wouldnt stay idle. Not after that. Hunter pulled out her sidearm, eyes sweeping the skyline. Theyre not letting this go. Fang sighed, shoving her slate into her pocket. Shes a corpo. Corpo charged me subscription fee for the auto-guidance system I liberated 20 years ago. They never let anything go. She groaned dramatically. I officially cant call Kai anymore. Hes gonna be so worried. Gravel let out a short laugh, shaking his head. Yeah, thats the real tragedy here. Hunter exhaled, glancing at Priest. Your old friends going to hunt us. Shell do worse than that, Priest muttered. But we have one thing going for usSloan likes the chase. She will take her time, draw it out. Another haptic feedbackUNKNOWN SIGNALS INTERCEPTED. CIPHERED COMMUNICATIONS DETECTED. Sloan was already working. Calling in favors. Priests visor was locked on the extraction pointmetal grates, unstable footing. No time for finesse. Vanjes voice punched through again. Jump. They sprinted. Fang vaulted over a railing, stumbling into Gravels arms as he followed her steps. He pushed her back to her feet, dragging her along. Hunter spun mid-step, firing a quick shot at a nearby surveillance drone before diving forward. Priest followed last, leaping just as the hovercraft pulled up beneath them. Fang braced for impactbut instead of Vanje at the controls, there was no one. The hovercraft was empty. Remote-controlled. She hit the floor hard, rolling onto her back. Are you kidding me? Vanjes snort could be heard through the speaker. What, you think I was gonna fly into a death trap just to pick you up? Please. Priest pulled himself up, gripping a support beam as the hovercraft banked sharply. His visor flared red, and he projected the message for everyone to see: MULTIPLE LOCK-ONS DETECTED. HOSTILE SIGNALSCLOSING. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. The hovercraft lurched as its autopilot threw it into a tight spiral, engines howling against the wind shear. Fang barely grabbed a safety rail before the hovercraft nearly flung her sideways. Gravel groaned. If this AI kills us before Sloan does, Im haunting you. Ill wait until youre taking a dump then jumpscare you while you shit. Vanjes voice crackled through the speakers. Little faith, people. I wrote this code myself. Priests visor continued flashing with pursuit markersmultiple bogeys gaining, fast. His hands moved instinctively, pulling up the hovercrafts countermeasures. Incoming fire in five. Hunter braced against the cabin. Tell me this thing can actually shake them. Vanje snorted. Oh, it can. A hard jerk to the left sent the hovercraft skimming low over a rooftop, barely avoiding a barrage of pulse rounds. Then, just as the enemy pilots adjusted, the thrusters cut off completely. For half a second, they were weightless. Then the engines roared back to life, slamming them into a vertical dive. The pursuing crafts werent as luckytwo veered too sharply, one clipping a neon-lit antenna and spiraling into a building. The third broke off, reluctant to risk the same fate. Fang was thrown again as the hovercraft took another sharp turn, but this time, as she tried to grip the side, she felt a sudden pullgentle, steady. Her landing was softened, her body held in a controlled descent, preventing a worse crash into the metal floor. She glanced at Priest, who was already scanning the latest data. His hand had been raised, subtly manipulating the gravitational field. Thanks, old pop, she muttered, surprised but not about to argue. Didnt know you can manipulate gravity in such closed space. Priests visor dimmedPURSUIT: EVASIVE. THREAT PROXIMITY: DECREASING. Gravel exhaled. That was stupid. Fang peeled herself off the floor, scowling. I swear, if they seize Black Fang Vanje cut in, his usual smugness gone. Yeah. About that. Priests visor flared with an update. BLACK FANGLOCKED. MULTIPLE HOSTILES AT DOCK. ENTRY DENIED. They locked it, he relayed the information. Fang clenched her jaw and did that odd, restless habit of rubbing the backs of her shoes against each other like she was trying to start a fire. Youre kidding me. Did you infiltrate the dock system? Gravel asked. Yeah. But I cant hack the guards, she replied. Hunter looked out the window as their hovercraft dipped below a cluster of stacked cargo towers. From this altitude, she could just make out the security detail swarming their shipcorpo enforcers in heavy gear, setting up perimeter defenses. Gravel groaned. I mean, it didnt take a genius to figure out theyd lock us out of our only way off this planet. Bit more than you could chew, buddy? Vanje said. Priests visor pinged againSloans teams were moving. Expanding the search radius. They had minutes before lockdowns started. Vanjes voice lowered over comms. Ive got a place. District Ten, off-grid, old smuggler hub. You lay low, regroup, then you figure out how to steal your ship back. What do you mean you? Hunter asked Vanje. I mean you, Vanje said flatly. I did my part. Got you out, kept you alive. Ill crack the encryption on the drive like I promised, and then Im out. Youll see a cracked drive on your comms, along with a code to access it. Fang scoffed. Youre kidding. Vanje replied, Im not part of your crew. I dont owe you a damn thing past this. The only reason Im still here is because Im flying this thing remotely. Once you jump, Im gone. Gravel let out a sharp laugh. Cmon. Cant I owe you two huge favors? Im done with your antics, man. Always poking your head into places you cant get out of. You keep dealing with people like Sloan, youre gonna make a lot of enemies real quick. Priest . . . The line turned silent for a moment. Well, we all know what he brings to the table. Priest could feel Gravels gaze on his back. Gravel had tried, time and again, to dig into his pastalways poking for more under the pretense of casual conversations. He had given up by now, but he was persistent before. Whether it was to get closer, for some misguided form of camaraderie, or simply as a check on his history, it didn''t matter. Priest had always kept his background to a minimum. A brief word here, a well-timed evasion there. Even when theyd landed in his old city, this was the first time any of them had heard about these people he mightve crossed paths with. Priest didnt need to look back to know what was in Gravel''s mind. He could practically hear the wheels turning. That Priest wasnt optimizing the crews success chance. He was optimizing his own success. His visor flared with new warningsSECURITY LOCKDOWNS INITIATED. FLIGHT RESTRICTIONS ACTIVE. Time was up. Fine, Hunter muttered. Wheres the drop? Three levels down, east side, Vanje replied. Old freight dock. No cameras, no patrols. Its your best shot. Now jump. The emergency hatch slammed open, wind howling through the cabin. Hunter didnt hesitateshe vaulted out first. Priest went next. Then Gravel. Fang lingered for just a second, gripping the edge of the hatch. Hope I never see you again, Vanje. Vanjes comm rattled, but he said nothing. Chapter 14: Space Opera Teenage Drama (Hunter) Hunter wasnt a fan of closed spaces. She didnt know when it started. Maybe it was when she was younger and called herself Felicia with an almost prideful trill that lingered at the tip of her tongue, or maybe it was that time she was stuck in a submersible, descending toward a shipwreck on the ocean floor of Tatinia for nothing more than her own amusement. Not sure if it happened before or after she met Gravel, or if it was a gradual development or if she simply woke up one day feeling antsy without an open sky somewhere above her head. Gravel had always said it was just her imagination. He might be right. She had never had a problem being on the Black Fang, a ship that if put next to a standard-sized Republic craft would look like a beetle next to a Dachshund. Yet she would always feel a sense of unshakable dread inside places that looked too clean, too sanitized, and too small. Like this safehouse they were in. The dark walls of the safehouse were made of corrugated metal and harsh industrial fixtures. The flickering overhead lights stretched sharp shadows across the concrete floor, broken only by the sporadic hum of distant machinery. There was a bizarre lack of neon-light spilling over the window, and the sole hint of life reaching the space was the occasional clang of shifting metal in the distance. She knew it was better for laying low, yet she could not stop the feeling of wanting to stand outside and being able to look at the sunset. Hunter scraped the slop onto her platesome kind of grayish paste that looked like it was meant to be mashed potatoes, but the texture was off, like theyd had to use recycled material for a thickener. Gravel had happened to find a few old crates of supplies near a public canteen, and he had everyone sitting around, digging into the synthetic food. The taste didnt help either, like industrial soy protein with a hint of burnt plastic. Couldve actually tried getting us sushi, she scoffed as she played with her food. Youre lucky I got you food at all, Gravel shrugged. Be grateful. Is that why youre not touching your food? She scowled at him. Im enduring starvation just so you can put something in your stomach. He grabbed his belly. You be grateful. Fang, now mask off, didnt even glance at him as she pushed the paste around her plate. She was too busy clutching her holo-slate, her eyes flicking between the device and the small group around her. Shed been trying to get Kai on the line for the past few minutes, her finger nervously tapping the screen. Does trying to get to him compromise our position? Hunter gave her a look. No, Fang bit her lower lip. Priests voice cut through the room, his tone steady but firm. It might not now, but McPhersons got the tools to intercept any communication you make. If you keep calling him, you will light up our location like a beacon. Please, old pop. Just one call. She turned to him, eyes pleading. He needs to know. Gravel leaned forward, shooting Priest a look. Give her a break, Sir Holy, damn. Shes not some machine, shes got a life outside of this mess. Hunter opened her mouth, ready to say something that might de-escalate the tension, but then paused. Do I want to get tangled in another argument? The last real argument she''d had with a crew member seemed so long agothose exchanges where shed argue just enough, only to back down and let the matter drop. Had she become too soft? Too comfortable? Priest had mentioned it beforeshe''d gotten lazier. More passive. Merely a listener. She spent too much time scavenging for tools or grabbing useless soda cans from different planets instead of focusing on repairs or improving the Black Fangs engines. Maybe he was right. Maybe they were all right. But what if they were all wrong? Her fingers flexed where they rested on her knee. She wanted to be firm, more decisiveespecially when Gravel convinced her that retrieving this drive was worth the risk. If only she''d stood her ground more, questioned the mission more. She had been happy with the smaller jobs: escorting cargo, delivering rare earths across continents, doing anything that kept the Black Fang afloat but avoided the things that could cost them their lives. But she knewknewthat she was a soldier. A fighter. And if there was one thing a fighter learned over time, it was that the best fighters were the ones who could avoid the fight. Priests visor flashed at Hunter as he glanced over the room, and his voice dropped into a colder register. You are supposed to be the Captain here, Gravel. Keep it together. His gaze flicked over to Fang. She is not the only one stressed. You are putting this whole crew at risk by allowing distractions. Well, hes not wrong. Fang Gravel turned to the young lady, but shed established a connection with Kai. He sighed. Make it quick. Fang didnt waste another moment. As soon as she had a connection, she brought the holo-slate close to her face, her eyes wide as the reflection from the screen printed on her retinas. The screen flickered for a moment before the image of Kais face came into view. Hunter was close enough to have a good look at the young man. He looked tireddark circles under his eyes, his hair slightly tousled as if hed just woken up. But his eyes were warm, steady, as always. Fang and Hunter did get into an argument once about him. Hunter had asked the young woman, Why would you even think about settling down with someone you cant even spend time with in person? Why wouldnt I? You wouldnt know! Fang had bit out. You never had the same kind of connection. You didnt have to fight for anything other than yourself, Hunter. The argument had ended there. Kai, she whispered, her voice trembling. Im . . . Im okay. I justI needed to hear your voice. His face softened, and he leaned closer to the screen, his voice quiet but filled with concern. Sweetie, youre shaking. Whats going on? Where are you? She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. Its just . . . were laying low. Things got messier than expected, and I might not be able to check in for a while. You know how it goes. I dont know how it goes, sweetie. You got to tell me more. Its just . . . its just a phase. Ill be alright. Is your crew with you? Hey man, Gravel chimed in from a distance. So your little girl lost her toy, and were taking it back. Care to hear our brilliant plan? He cant hear you. Its private connection, murmured Fang. Then you shouldve put on headphones, Gravel shrugged. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Fang didnt bother looking at Gravel, as she was too busy staring at Kais gaze. His expression had softened further as he listened closely, his brow furrowing. Hunter knew she couldnt bear the thought of him panicking. Fang, Kais voice was a low murmur. Strong; steady; familiar. Just . . . just talk to me, alright? Let me know how I can help. Fangs breath hitched. Im sorry; Im sorry; Im sorry. Dont worry, Kai, Im doing fine. Ill be back at Crimson-04 in a months time. She rubbed her eyes. I justI mean, Ill be fine, its just a little more dangerous than I thought, but its no big deal, right? You know, things just got complicated, and, uh, youre cute. Gosh, I want to pinch your cheek real bad. Hunter didnt think she felt such strong emotions when Gravel lay on the ground in Namor. When she thought his spine had been snapped in half. Fang Her fingers gripped the holo-slate tighter, her knuckles white from the pressure. Its all a phase, yeah. Ill figure it out, I always do. Its nothing like last time, dont worryreally, dont. You know I can handle it. Im fine. Im fine. Its just . . . just this one thing, its nothing. She had never seen Fang sob under any other circumstance, but it seemed like every time she talked to her lover, all she would do was howl her eyes out. How can you let yourself be so vulnerable? Hunter instinctively grabbed her upper left arm, where her Strokas tattoo had once been. She had tried different ways to remove itlasers, chemical peels, even a black-market dermal regeneratorbut the quantum ink made it irremovable. The only option was to cover it. So she did. Now the arcs had become the sweeping curves of a coiled serpent, inked in deep black and shimmering cobalt, constricting a pristine silver blade. Gravel had more than one time asked her why she chose a serpent as a callback to their first meeting where she was almost crushed to death by a boa. Shed just shrugged and said, Because a boa would be too big for my arm. She had left Strokas. But the tattoo still remained, and the best tools she had at her disposal were still in that Strokas backpack. Strokas hadnt quite left her. Hua Fang! Kais tone brooked no argument. Stop. Breathe. Youre not fine, and I know youre scared. Its okay to admit that. Damn, that is hard to look at. Gravel commented. Maybe I need to stop being an observer for once. Then dont look. Geez. Hunter finally spoke up, then immediately hated how casual she sounded. If a sabertooth tiger shits gold in front of your eyes, will you look or nah? This is like that, he replied. Not the most tactful are ya? Hunter hissed, then hated her attitude even more. The cadence, the delivery. Too strong. Too forceful. Kais expression softened further, his eyes never leaving the screen. Fang, he said again, his voice steady. I know you. Ive seen you handle worse. Her fingers trembled against the holo-slate as she wiped her eyes, still not looking at him directly. ICIm trapped, Kai. They took my ship, she mumbled, her voice quiet and shaky. Talk to the officials, Fang, Kai countered, his voice firm but full of warmth. Remember the time we confronted the immigration officer on Brann-7? You were so damn scared, I thought you might actually pass out. But you didnt. You found a way out. You handled that mess better than anyone I knew could. Talk to the officials? Gravel whispered to himself in a voice so low Hunter could barely hear. You think your little lovers out here practicing law or something? You led us out of there. We couldnt have done it without you, Kai reminded her. Thats who you are, Fang. Thats why I know youll figure this out, too. Youve already pulled us all through the fire once. Youre gonna do it again. Fang opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, the connection flickered. The image of Kais face distorted, then turned into a blur of static, his voice breaking up. Fang? Fang, can you hear me? She slammed the holo-slate against the table, cursing as the screen froze entirely. No, no, no! she muttered, desperately pressing buttons, but the device remained unresponsive. Then, from behind her, a voice cut through the chaos. Dont reconnect, child. Priests tone was calm, but firm. You need to be mindful of the time you spend connected. Fang froze, her chest tightening as her hand trembled over the holo-slate. I was just She glanced at the screen again, the signal still dead. Priest was already standing nearby, his visor reflecting the dim light of the safehouse. You should understand safety protocols better than anyone else. Yes, pop. She slumped against the wall, head down. Hunter came over and put a gentle hand on her shoulder, not saying anything else. An Asian whos honest with her feelings. Crazy stuff, Gravel grinned. That joke didnt land before and its not landing now, Boss, Fang barked back. Whatever you say. Now thats out of the way, who wants to hear my brilliant fucking plan? Gravel threw his hands into the air. Sure, said Hunter. Half of the time his plans were never really plans, but just a device to ease the tension and get a few laughs out of the team members. The other half was dead serious. Gravel leaned in, eyes alight with mischief as he spread his hands even wider. Alright, alright, hear me out. He threw a look around the room. Its simple, really. Were laying low, right? But we need to movegotta keep the heat off. Weve got the supplies, well not yet, but we will. Anyway, now we need distractions. He paced back and forth, speaking louder as he warmed to his idea. First, we steal a transport ship. Fast. Low-profile. Nothing too fancy. We can paint it over, change the serial numbers, slap on a fake registration. Simple stuff. He made a sweeping gesture, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Next, we grab a few dozen crates ofget thissynthetic meat. And I dont mean the stuff were eating now. Im talking about the real stuffthe kind that smells like it came straight from a corporate lab, ready to be flavored. We ship that thing off to a secondary port, set up a drop-off, and boom! Gravel smirked, clearly pleased with himself. Weve got a decoy op. Theyll think were moving something important, while we just hightail it in the opposite direction, using the ship as bait. Classic Gravel. For all his bluster and cocky ideas, he had a way of making people believe that even the most ridiculous scheme had a shot at working. Hunter stared at him blankly, brow furrowed. Wait . . . youre going to make a fake meat shipment the center of your plan? Theyre going to know its fake within minutes. Just be faster than them, Gravel waved a hand dismissively. The minute they start digging, well be gone. Trails already cold. By the time they figure out the meat is synthetic, well be in a completely different system. Hunter blinked, looking more confused than ever. Whats the actual point of all this? We dont need fake meat. We need to lay lowkeep moving under the radar. Exactly! Gravels face lit up like hed just solved world peace. By not needing the meat, we create a perfect cover! Nobody will be looking for us if they think were just another cargo ship with some fake food on board. Theyll be tracking the wrong thing, while we slip under the radar. Well . . . And all she had ever done was enabling him. Priest crossed his arms. And what happens when they realize theres no actual cargo, Gravel? Theyll know we were using it as a distraction. Thats when we do this! Gravel snapped his fingers, clearly proud of his own ingenuity. We plant a decoy ship wreck somewhere close to the portreal easy, just leave some wreckage in a distant, isolated area. Theyll focus on that, thinking its part of our escape plan. Maybe not today. Dear Captain, Hunter groaned, thats exactly what theyll expect. Yeah, and thats the beauty of it! Gravel was practically bouncing on his heels now. Theyll overestimate our stupidity, which makes us unpredictable. By the time they get to the wreckage, well be long gone. The room was silent for a moment. Horrific, Hunter muttered under her breath. Shed hoped this plan was a joke, but there was no way to tell with Gravel, really. Its not that bad, murmured Fang. Dont you enable him now, Hunter tapped Fang on her shoulder. Okay. So I dismissed his plan. Whos going to come up with their own plan then? Will I have to do it? Priest took a step forward. How about I propose an alternative plan? Chapter 14.5: Space Opera Nicotine Addiction (NEW CONTENT) The travel brochure Hunter had picked up wasnt lying when it said birds didnt exist in Orkash. Not because they had gone extinctno, some poor creatures still existed, but they werent stupid enough to stay. The moment a fledgling so much as stretched its wings, it was met with a thick, choking sky, the kind that clung to lungs and left metal tasting on the tongue. The citys perpetual green haze wasnt just unsightly; it was dense, suffocating, a soup of industrial byproducts and synthetic compounds engineered to settle in the air like an artificial atmosphere. Back against the outer wall of the warehouse, she craned her head to look at the foggy sky. Every so often, a distant plume of factory exhaust curled upward, only to be swallowed whole by the murky haze, as if the columns of smoke were an e-cig and the sky was a seasoned smoker. If Hunter was given time, she wouldve picked up a local guidebook from a physical bookshop. She didnt have some poetic, thought-provoking reason for preferring paper books over holo-letters on a floating screen, though she did try to come up with one in case anyone would ever ask. She just liked the feeling of holding something real in her hands. That was why she was holding the latest iteration of space cigarette in her hands. The E-Mote. The manufacturers thought they were clever with the name, but it came off as colossally cringey and edgy to her. Nonetheless, it was one of the cheaper brands of neurostimulant. Nicotine had been phased out over two hundred years ago after Haret manufacturers realized they couldnt afford to lobby across star systems, and releasing microdoses of electromagnetic neurostimulants directly absorbed through the mouth or nasal lining was more or less a healthier option anyway. It was the 2700s, the century of ultra-convenience. Everything was seamless, instant, and if you had the credits, neurally integratedinformation, entertainment, even emotions beamed directly into your brain with a thought. No more screens, no more typing, no more waiting. Did you need to learn a new language? Download it. Want to experience the latest blockbuster? Stream it straight into your visual cortex. Feeling anxious? A quick neural tweak could smooth out your emotions like flipping a switch. Or at least that was what she heard. Twelve years since she started a new chapter of her life outside of Haret, and she still had yet saved up enough money to plug music into her brain. So she used earphones. Her auto-shuffler played All the Time in the World. It started with soft synths swelling like the sigh of an old machine, layered over the occasional static, like spark from the grid, a dying signal searching for connection. The lyrics came in, murmured rather than sung, the voice hushed and weary. Admittedly, Hunter had trouble understanding most of the lyrics. She put the E-Mote on her lips and inhaled. It glowed an artificial fire like a flashbulb. The hit slammed into her like a power surgesharp, immediate, unforgiving. Her mind froze, glitched. Stalled for a fraction of a second before snapping into overdrive. It had been too long since the last time, and her body wasnt ready. Then, just as suddenly, everything snapped back, her thoughts hyper-focused, reality sharpening to a razors edge. A human voice, clearer than most of the lyrics, reached her ears. Your mind outta the Milky Way yet, Hunter? This was definitely not part of the song. Hunter turned to see Gravel walking over. His fashion sense only had two modes: illuminated, or scruffed beyond belief. For this mission, hed chosen the latter. His jacket, once black, had faded into a dull charcoal, stretched just enough to hint at the body beneath but not enough to look intentional. A half-shadow of stubble lined his jaw, reminding her to remind him to shave later. Hed turned her into a convenient walking reminder alarm for his little habits, like keeping his gear maintained, eating something that wasnt vacuum-sealed, and, apparently, shaving before he started looking like a washed-up bounty poster. I havent seen you touch that in what? A year? Two years? Thats because I dont smoke in public. Theres nowhere quite private enough here, though, she replied. Care to share? Gravel asked with a stupid grin plastered on his face. Get your own, she said, without a hint of annoyance. She knew him enough to know he was asking just for the sake of asking. So . . . were going with Priests plan? Gravel shrugged. His plan is better than mine. Your plan was a joke though, right? He shrugged again. Fang was spiralling. Priest didnt bother hiding his frustration. You were silent. Someone had to say something. For all his shenanigans, Gravel was unusually sharp at reading the room. She knew he knew something was up with her. He had been trying to catch Hunter alone, and she had been well aware of it ever since she walked away from him in the common lounge. She knew what he was going to ask, but what she didnt know was what answer she was going to give to his question. So she hit him with a question of her own before he could strike, Where do you think all the metals go? Huh? Vascarite. Where do you think it all go? The planets main export was Vascarite, a dense, heat-resistant metal prized for starship hulls and high-grade weapon casings. Extracting it meant deep-cracking the planets crust. But if they were exporting so much Vascarite, to the point she could barely see the sun setting, where did all the metals go? One in ten ships she saw had Vascarite on its hull, and the Black Fang certainly didnt have any. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. He flicked his two fingers together in a movement that looked like snapping, but it made no sound. Sometimes he would start doing that, then keep doing that for no reason. Hunter figured that his body just needed something to do. He said, No idea. Maybe the buyers are hoarding supply because theyre planning something shady. Where do you think all the other Morkanium users went, then? They all vanished after the last time I met that stone-face ass on Haret. He sucked in more air than he shouldve, and made a hissing sound. After all those years, Gravel probably still hadnt gotten over having his past life taken away from him. Just like how she still quite hadnt gotten over leaving Haret. The stone-face ass he referred to was Dr. Stein, who was supposed to be the wanted criminal, the illegal Morkanium extractor, and the primary reason why Gravel was stuck with this power he didnt ask for in the first place. But the good doctor managed to pin the crime on Gravel, and got off the planet soon afterwards. Gravel had heard nothing about him since then. Hunter pondered for a moment then said, I guess sometimes we should be satisfied with a simple I dont know. Gravel squatted down, then took out a mock beer from his jacket pocket. Hed been drinking less, replacing his alcoholic drinks with non-alcoholic substitutes since a year back. Some doctor on Enzo told him his liver was gearing up for a mutiny. Gravel hated doctors, and to this day, he still cracked open a real cold one for every time he saw an actual doctor in person. The first thing he said after he took the first sip was, Warm beer sucks. The second thing he said was, Say, you regretting being part of this crew again? The way he delivered it seemed too casual, like he was asking her if she wanted sushi for dinner. You saved my life, Rhyan, she murmured. She tried to put the E-Mote on her mouth again, but mistakenly stuck it on her chin instead. Wasnt what I asked. His fingers started tapping on the side of the can instead of flicking against each other. She ran out of things to say. You remember when we climbed the stairs yesterday? Your reaction time was . . . concerning, to say the least. It might cost you one of these days, he continued. She just listened. He said, Whats wrong, Fel? Youre tough. Fearless. Aggressive. I didnt see that the last couple days. His fingers moved faster. You were aggressive. Now . . . He took another sip. Youre just passive-aggressive. Fearless? Yeah, right. The only thing I fear more than fear itself is thinking about my life choices. If you hate me, just say it to my face, he said. I can take it. I dont hate you. Then the conversation sunk into another weird patch of silence, like itd been devoured by a wormhole. She put the E-Mote on her mouth, got it right this time, and inhaled. You dont hate anything, Fel. You could hit on that guy over there, he flicked a chin toward a random shadow moving over the distance. Hunter wasnt sure that was even a person. You just dont love anything, either. Tell me the last time you talked to somebody new for more than a week. He was wrong, though. Shed been settling in. Maybe even loving it. She had been liking the little tweaks she did to the Black Fang, the constant nagging from Fang for her to do her overdue maintenance, her long, lazy showers that got warmer each month, her nights out with the crew whenever they hit a transit planet, eating real local food. Even the escort missions were greatsimple, no bullshit. She had enjoyed it anywhere but here, on the ground. But not being in action would go against the foundation of everything Gravel stood for. She couldnt tell it to his face. Not to the guy whod saved her life. Can we do this another time? she asked. Nows good a time as any, he said. Hunter exhaled, long and slow. She turned the E-Mote off and tucked it into her jacket pocket, just so shed have something to do with her hands. A habit shed just picked up from him. You always do this, she muttered. Gravel raised an eyebrow. Do what? This. She gestured vaguely at him, at the way he sat there like he wasnt poking a wound she hadnt even realized was open. ThisHey, Fel, lets dig up your entire psyche like its a shitty backyard and see what we find. His fingers drummed faster against the can. And? And I dont wanna do this right now. Then when? Silence. Hunter swallowed down the answer Never. Gravel stood, throwing his half-empty mock beer on the ground. Tiny white froths clung to the metal, fizzing and popping in the cold air. Aint that funny. You call me your best buddy, and you open up to me less than a black hole opens up to tourists. And I know what youre about to say. Youre gonna Oh, shut up, Hunters voice came out sharper than she had intended. Ive known you for years, and I dont think Ive heard a single damn thing about your so-called circle of friends before you met me. Hell, do you even have old friends? Or did they all get sucked into that black hole of yours? Gravels fingers flicked together again, faster this time. Thats different. Oh, is it? She let out a sharp laugh. Right, because your past is all tragic and broody and filled with mysterious betrayals, and mines just a footnote, huh? Gimme a break. You dont talk about your past either, but suddenly Im the problem because I dont spill my guts over a fake beer? He gave her a long stare, his eyes getting hazier by the second. Then he clicked his tongue. Fair. Damn right its fair. Hunter crossed her arms, shifting her weight onto one leg. She bit the inside of her cheek. That wasnt what she wanted to say at all. She wanted to say Im sorry. Good talk, he started walking with his back turned to her. Remember the plan Priests cooked up. And get it together. Its for the good of the crew. Rhyan, I Its fine. Its all good, he said. Then he turned the corner and disappeared from her sight. The final chorus of the song in Hunters earphones resounded. The synths placated, piano notes irradiated, and the last words lingered: We had all the time in the world and maybe, just maybe, we still do. Then the song faded, leaving only the hum of static once more. Chapter 15: Space Opera Witchcraft (Priest) It was the first time Priest had returned to Orkash in years, yet this was the fashion with which the city greeted him. The worn-out streets, stained with memories of rebellion and crushed promises, had changed little since he last saw them. The same grimy undercity sprawled below towering buildings, all hidden in shadow. The air still carried that heavy, metallic taste of unspent timeof a place that had seen too many scuffles and not enough peace. He had walked these same paths as an officer, a logistics mastermind. Back then, he was known for his impeccable track record, for how hed navigated the tangled mess of military operations and nightmarish Kestris supply chains that had been touted the worst of the worst. He could say with pride that hed never failed a mission. Hed never let his unit or his superiors down. Every supply drop, every coordination, every timingit had all been flawless. But the truth was, that Priest was a ghost now. The records that mattered werent the ones he had earned; it was the ones he''d erased. Flawless turned spotless. Better be a ghost than a criminal. Hunter''s gaze tracked the fractured moon hiding behind patches of fog as she looked up at the sky from the narrow walkway overlooking the civic district of the undercity. Youd think theyd repair it by now. Whats the point of a moon like that hanging around? The moon, with its fractured surface, loomed over Orkash. Priest, watching the display flicker on the security screen, exhaled slowly. A Republic Aratos warship aimed a planetary suppression beam right at the surface, but the defense systems intercepted it mid-fire. The energy ricocheted off the atmosphere and tore into the moon instead. He tilted his head. Left it scarred ever since. Gravel, standing a few paces away with arms crossed, mouthed through his comms. Thats the most Ive seen you talk without stopping this year. He kept his position near one of the stations maintenance conduits, appearing casual but with a direct line of sight to Priest. It was the kind of spot that let him keep an eye on both the unfolding situation and any unexpected variableswithout drawing attention from passing civilians. Fang, stationed half a mile away in a secured relay point, would monitor their movements through a private channel. They caught Sloans movement. The undercity was not a place of official business, yet Sloan had always been a fixture in its shadows. Priest had suspected as muchbefore she held a corp title, her dealings had always leaned toward the dubious. Political power didnt erase old habits; if anything, it only refined them. Officially, she came here to monitor the districts stability, but Priest knew bettershe had always preferred handling things off the books, keeping close to the power brokers who operated outside the law. Guarded by three officers armed with sleek shock rifles even off duty, she moved through the building with the same quiet authority she once had in less sanctioned circles. Priest stood inside a repurposed maintenance hub, overlooking a key intersection near the civil administration building as the light of the reactivated security feeds shone across his face. From Hunters position crouched near an access hatch, she should have a clear line of sight to Priests tense posture. Meanwhile, Fang and Gravel prepped the docking bay from a secondary control stationready to trigger their contingency plan should things go south, ensuring Sloans forces wouldnt leave the district in one piece. Hunter narrowed his eyes at him and asked, How do you even know were not on official records yet? Priest exhaled, tilting his head toward the screen. Because Sloans always handled things under the table. When she has a grudge, she doesnt let bureaucracy get in the way. Im betting on her still being the same person I knew. Okay. We going in? Asked Hunter, fingers tapping on her laser gun. Going in, Gravel confirmed. He slipped from his position, sticking to the shadows. One of Sloans officers glanced over his shoulderinstinct, but not enough. Gravel was already behind him, his rifle tucked back to the side of his belt. Quick. Precise. One hand over the mouth, the other wrenching the officers shock rifle free. A silent takedown. He eased the unconscious man into an alcove, stripping the charge pack from the rifle. Hunter passed through the thinning crowd, stepping into the path of a second officer. She twisted his arm, yanked him off balance, and slammed him into a rusted maintenance panel. He was out. Priest moved last. He stepped from the maintenance hub just as the third officer turned toward him. The guard reached for his weapon, but Priests cybernetic hand snapped up. A pulse of compressed gravity hit the mans center mass, slamming into the pavement. He barely had time to choke out a sound. Sloans feet had already been levitated when she realized something wasnt right. Priests cybernetic hand remained outstretched, fingers barely twitching as the gravitational field wrapped around her, lifting her effortlessly into the air. She twisted, reaching for her sidearm, but the pressure shifted, forcing her arms stiffly away from her body. As long as she was caught in there, he could keep the levitation for at least another ten minutes. Maintaining gravity manipulation put much less strain on his system than shooting consecutive gravity-altering blasts, because the levitation required only minor adjustments to the gravity field as opposed to rapid recalibrations. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Didnt freeze anybody this time, Gravel chuckled to himself. For the first time, her expression cracked. Not fearannoyance. Dakarai, she muttered, voice tight. Suspended a few feet off the ground, she angled her head, catching sight of her unconscious guards. Clean work. You trained them well. This gravitational technology . . . whered you get it from? Vyleri? Vyleri, Priest replied. Youve travelled far. Out and about. Sloan let her stare linger on Priest a few seconds too long, just enough for him to see his reflection on her irises. She clicked her tongue. Would love to get out of Kestris for once. But Ive chosen this life, I suppose. These lines. He had heard them before, back when they were peers under the same de-sanitized ceilings of MacLeod Cargo Corp before their merger with McPherson Dynamics. Even the same words she used to say now daubed in a coat of neutral-colored paint, like a permanent camouflage. Gravel stepped in close, keeping his stolen rifle trained on her. Youre awfully calm for someone getting kidnapped. Sloan let out a slow breath, leveling her gaze at Priest. I want to set up a deal with you, Dakarai. Like old times. Youd have the entire enforcement wing of the city breathing down your neck, not just my personal detail otherwise. You know that much. Gravel scoffed. Dont slime your way out of this. I saw you trying to call security on us back at McPhersons vault. Sloans smirk returned. Then you saw wrong, Captain of the Black Fang. She flexed her fingers, as much as the gravitational hold would allow. Years of running outside the system have left you all too jumpy. You think every movement, every word is a trap. Oh? Gravels eyes lit up as he turned to Hunter. She knows me as the Captain! Told ya, Im the one building our rep! Hunter groaned. What is the deal? asked Priest. Sloan didnt hesitate. I need dirt on my superior. Something that can push them out, get me off this planet and into a Republic position. Gravels response was immediate. Nope. Were not touching the Republic with a stick. Also, last time, what she said was different. She affirmed she had better hackers than Vanje, but if she did, she wouldnt need the Black Fang for such a mission. She could just do it herself. Sloans smirk didnt waver. You already have. McPhersons vault? Their records? There are Republic names in there. Have you heard of Shiya Mura? Gravel replied, No clue. Priests expression didnt shift, but his fingers twitched slightly. The name comes up. Mura oversees the Republics economic enforcement branch. Im not getting into details here. Not when Im floating like a balloon. You want us outlaws to do the dirty work for you, Hunter said. Sloans tone was even. No offense, but youre pretty nameless as far as outlaws go. Nameless but capable? We have more of a reputation than you, Sloan, Gravel replied. Shes implying were exploitable, Captain, Hunter said. Both can be true, Hunter, Gravel said. And I already know Dakarais capable. Sloan tilted her head ever-so-slightly. Im afraid you dont have a choice here, Sloan said. You think you can get away with disappearing a high-ranked Kestris official? Gravel set his jaw. He must have felt the same way as Priest did. The way Sloan was playing thisit wasnt just an offer. It was a trap he mightve already stepped into. His first instinct was to walk, but if she really did have Republic names buried in McPhersons records, then what? How long until they became targets for something bigger than her scheming? A few passersby had already slowed, shooting wary glances their way before hurrying off. No one had raised an alarm yet, but that wouldnt last. Priest gestured at Gravel with his jaw and tapped on his wristband. Gravel exhaled through his teeth, eyes darting around. Youre lucky we dont have time for this. Sloan smiled. Lovely doing business with you. Priest flicked his fingers, easing the gravitational hold. Sloans boots hit the ground lightly, but he could see the satisfaction in her stance. Shed won this round. Hurry off, Sloan waved them away. Now Ill have to come up with a convenient lie for the mess you caused. Gravel scoffed. Youre welcome. He didnt wait for Sloans response, turning on his heel and motioning for the crew to move. Priest fell into step beside him, Hunter a few paces behind, keeping an eye on their backs. Would love you to join me over tea this weekend, Dakarai, Sloan rasped, a hint of cheer threading through her voice. Ill drop you a coordinate. Heres my contact. Sloan flicked her wrist, and a faint blue holo-glyph shimmered into existence above her palm. With a casual motion, she snapped her fingers, sending a pulse of light toward Priests comm. His interface beeped as the data embedded itselfa secured frequency, encoded with a shifting encryption key. Priest saved the data with a flick of his eyes. Chapter 16: Space Opera Corporate Conspiracy (Gravel) The safehouse was colder than Gravel remembered. Probably because their last safehouse had been a ship, and now they were holed up in a dimly lit apartment that smelled like fried algae. Priest sat in front of a holo-display, decrypting whatever Vanje had pulled from the McPherson vault. He promised sending more in 24 hours, so for the moment theyd have to work with what they had. Hunter leaned against the counter, arms crossed, while Fanghead down, fingers tapping against her holo-slatewas obviously messaging Kai again. I still say we break for the ship, he muttered, half to himself. Hunter snorted. Not one for politics? Gravel exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. Politics, he muttered, should be like my drinksnot actively trying to kill me. That ones lame, she said. Yeah, that one was lame, he replied, turning to Fang. Fang. We need whatever data you managed to pull from the vault about Mura. Fang didnt look up. Gravel clicked his tongue. Tell your boyfriend youll be busy committing corporate espionage. Only then did Fang meet his eyes. She was obviously trying to think of a snide comeback, but shifted uncomfortably as his stare drilled a metaphorical hole into her. Fangs fingers hovered over her holo-slate, her usual smirk absent. She muttered, Aye aye, boss. Hunter arched a brow. That actually worked? It should, Gravel gave her a lopsided, mischievous grin. She knows whos in charge here. Fang shot him a glare but pulled up the data regardless, swiping through the files shed sectioned off. I ran a quick skim before dumping it to Priest. Most of its financial gibberish, but theres one name that kept showing up. She turned the holo-display around. A single header flashed at them: Project CELESTIAL INCONTINENCE. Gravel blinked. Thats gotta be a mistranslation. Muras name came with a classified marker, buried beneath layers of corporate jargon and redacted reports. But the bits they could access painted a certain picture. Shiya Mura C Republic Economic Enforcement Division, Gliese 9043 System Oversight, Special Projects Liaison Gliese 9043 was the name of the solar system Kestris was in. Priest barely glanced up from the screen. Trade route taxation, corporate compliance audits, extrajudicial asset liquidation. He kept it curt, too curt. Gravel squinted at him. Great. Love the sound of words. Now translate that into something the rest of us can care about. Priest exhaled. Hes a glorified repo man with military backing. He combs through corporate records, flags shipments as security risks, and then they disappear into Republic custody. Gravel leaned forward. Define Republic custody. Priests cybernetic fingers tapped idly against the console. Anything from black-budget military projects to reselling assets through shell companies. If the Garmins subdivision finances get tight, Mura makes sure they have unclaimed resources to fill the gaps. Hunter crossed her arms. So hes robbing corpos, and the Republics looking the other way. Gravel frowned. Why the hell would McPherson keep records on this? If the Republics looking the other way, wouldnt they just scrub it? Priest barely glanced up from the holo-display. Insurance. Fang tilted her head. Against who? Priest said, How should I know? Im just speculating. Since Mura is the resource distributor, he does have lots of power over how corpo work in Garmin. You need to have some sort of leverage. Hunter crossed her arm. You planning to talk to Sloan about this, old man? Priest ignored them both and pulled up the contact Sloan had sent. The secured frequency flickered on his holo-display, the encryption key shifting with each second. Hunter nodded. Good. Call her. Priest stared at the display for a few seconds. Gravel smirked. Whats wrong, Dakarai? Scared of a date? I will set you all a date right now. He scoffed. Maybe if you tell us your history with Sloan, we can give you some advice. But you seem dead set on hiding it. Hunter tilted her head. Fang licked her lips. Come on, guys, back me up here. He put a target on our back and that mad womans chasing after us like were feeder ships in an intergalactic spaceship shooting simulation. But they were too wary of Priest to say anything. Might as well not poke the bear, when that said bear had been fetching them honey day after day. Priest carried on tapping the screen, sending the request. The connection took a few seconds longer than expected, the encryption filters cycling before finally stabilizing. Sloans face materialized, backlit by the soft glow of a high-rise office. Dakarai, she greeted. Good timing. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. *** The rendezvous point was one of those half-operational lounges in the undercity, tucked between a half-lit neon bar and a vendor selling fried protein paste. It wasnt Sloans usual style, but then again, neither was getting yanked into the air by a gravitational chokehold. She was already seated when they arrived, sipping something dark out of a reinforced glass. Priest slid into the seat across from her without ceremony and pulled up the decrypted files from his holo-visor. Hunter took a casual stance nearby, keeping an eye on the surroundings, while Gravel leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed. Priest didnt waste time. Celestial Incontinence. Sloan raised a brow. Thats your opening line? Gravel leaned forward, drumming his fingers on the table. Whats the grand secret behind it? Some kind of covert Republic operation? A shell fund for black-market trade? Sloan blinked at him, then exhaled sharply through her nosethe closest thing to laughter theyd get. She swirled her drink idly, then flicked a glance toward Priest. Youre looking at the wrong project. Priests visor turned to a whiter shade for a second. What? Sloan leaned forward, resting her chin against her knuckles, her smirk just shy of outright mocking. That file? Its exactly what it says on the tin. Gravels face twisted. No. No way. Sloan nodded. Its a medical reimbursement program. Specifically, to treat Muras she gestured vaguely, ongoing personal inconvenience. There was a beat of silence. Hunter sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Youre telling me we spent the last twelve hours thinking this was some deep Republic conspiracy, and its just a fancy way of saying the man cant hold his piss? Sloan offered a sly, sardonic curl of her lips. Youre the ones who dug through my superiors private medical history. Congratulations. Gravel exhaled sharply and leaned back in his seat. Why dont you do the digging next time, smartypants? Priest was already scrolling through the files, discarding them one by one. So whats the real project, then? Sloans smirk faded just a fraction. I dont know. Gravel scoffed. Great. Fantastic. Weve got the professional ladder-climber over here, and even she doesnt know what shes digging for. Sloan didnt bother with a retort. Instead, she raised a hand, catching the bartenders attention with a lazy flick of her wrist. The mana grizzled ex-merc with a cybernetic arm that whined softly every time he movednodded, then tapped something beneath the counter. A low hiss filled the air as a portion of the back wall shifted, revealing a dimly lit passage. Come on, Sloan said, standing. Lets dig a little deeper. Hunter glanced at Priest, who gave the slightest nod. Gravel murmured, This sure doesnt look like a setup. Sloan retorted. Dont worry. I cant beat you three in a fist fight. Sloan slipped into the passage without a glance back. Priest followed in silence, the overhead lights casting sharp shadows across his face. Hunter shot Gravel a look before stepping in. Gravel sighed, rolling his shoulders before coming in after them. The passage sloped downward, narrowing slightly before opening into a private backroom lined with outdated holo-terminals. A circular table sat in the center, and the screens above it were filled with information feeds and encrypted logs. The air smelled faintly of ozone and old circuitry, like the place had been repurposed from something long abandoned. Sloan gestured for them to sit. Welcome to my little hideaway. Informations currency in this city. I keep a stash. Priest stepped up to the main terminal, arms crossed. You said we were looking at the wrong project. Sloan keyed in a command, and the screens above them reshuffled, lines of text scrolling too fast for anyone but Priest to process at a glance. She flicked a finger against the interface, slowing the feed. One title blinked into focus. PROJECT FIRMAMENT. Gravel leaned forward, arms on the table. Alright. Grand mystery solved. We got the actual name now. What the hell is it? With a fold of her arms, Sloan leaned over closer. This is the old name of a scrapped project. I believe a new ones in the work, but you need to dig it out of that database you got a hold of. Priests fingers danced over the console, isolating the relevant data strings. Firmament. Decommissioned five years ago. Whatever replaced it is buried under newer encryption layers. Hunter frowned. Scrapped doesnt mean dead. What was it about? Sloan said, Weapons research. Something to do with atmospheric manipulation. Were really wasting time here, thought Gravel. His mind traced back to the content of the drive, and how he was so sure itd be related to mutations. Now theyd become corpo lapdogs and the lucrative score hed envisioned was nowhere to be seen. Maybe the others were right, this time. He shouldnt have been so curious. Hunter nudged his arm. You zoning out on me, or are you actually listening? Gravel blinked, rolling his shoulders. Im listening, I just He gestured at the screen. We already went over the whole weather manipulation thing, didnt we? What else is there? You missed a lot, Hunter sighed. Firmament wasnt just about weather controlit was about targeted environmental collapse. You heard of localized molecular disruptors? Big words. Those are devices that can break down solid matter at a structural level. Gravel perked up. Great. Priest can steal one and slap it onto his magic arm. Youve already got the freeze people solid trick. Why not add disintegrate them into dust too? Priest didnt look up. Might be possible engineering-wise. Hunter shot him a look. That wasnt a suggestion. Gravel smirked. You say that, but I see the gears turning in his head. Priest ignored them both, eyes scanning the file. The disruptor tech is not just theoretical. Firmament was never really shut down. They just buried it under a different name. He tapped a line of data. Muras been redirecting resources, funneling assets behind McPhersons back. This secret Republic project might be where some of the assets ended up. And here I thought Republic and McPherson were best buddies, Gravel offered his insightful insights. Guess not. Sloan exhaled, a wisp of satisfaction dancing in her gaze. McPherson might just be the tech supplier, as far as Im concerned. Lots of the R&D have been in-house, because Ive never heard of the tech myself. The Republic should have prototypes. Probably field-tested, probably off-the-record. Gravel clapped his hands together, leaning toward Sloan with an easy grin. Alright, you got what you needed. Now can we have our ship back? Sloan didnt blink. No. Gravel threw his head back. Come on. You wanted dirt on Mura, and now you have it. This is a fair trade. Sloan tapped the table. Not yet. I need more than just breadcrumbs. I need proof. Something actionable. Thats the job for your goons. Were not federal agents, said Gravel. Sloan leaned forward, resting her hands on the table. I need you to find something undeniable. A shipment log, an internal memo, something that puts Muras hand in this mess with no room for plausible deniability. Right as the words left Sloans mouth, the safehouse lights flickered. Then cut out. Entirely. Gravel tensed. Thats not normal. Hunter pulled out her laser gun, pointing at Sloan. You set us up. While Im here with you? Listen to yourself. Sloans voice carried a brief, instinctive sliver of disbelief. A second later, the door exploded inward. The impact sent a shockwave through the cramped space, and before the dust settled, figures moved in, rifles raised. McPherson security. Chapter 17: Space Opera Shootout Hunter hit the ground first, rolling behind the counter. Priest pulled Sloan down with him before pulse rounds tore through the space where shed been standing. Gravel ducked behind the table, yanking his sidearm freea sleek, polymer-framed pistol with an integrated plasma accelerator. A flick of his thumb brought up the holo-sight, a soft amber reticle blinking into existence. Hed never been much for sidearmspreferred his fists, or something with a bit more weightbut this was new. Fresh off the black market. Made in Vyleri, the finest solar system around for handheld weapons and cyborg integrations. Hunter gave it to him. He named it Scott. His Morkanium had only formed around his chest. It would take some time for him to cover his vital points, and even more time before hed be able to shoot projectiles. Shooting projectiles would mean eating into his own Morkanium reserve, so hed rather not do that if possible. His pistol would have to do now. Fangs voice crackled over the comm, sharp with alarm. What the hell was that? That wasnt local enforcement. Who did you piss off this time? Sloans expression darkened as she peeked over cover. Her eyes locked onto a figure stepping through the wreckage, unhurried. Thats Koto. Who? Gravel asked. Muras right hand. A tall man in a sleek, matte-black tactical suit strode into the ruined doorway. His movements were precise and his face was impassive. The others flanked him, spreading out to seal exits. Koto came to a stop, glancing around the ruined room with a slight tilt of his head. Then, in a voice almost too measured to be threatening, he said, Sloan Albrecht. You are to be taken in, per Executive Muras orders. Do not resist. Then his gaze flicked to the others. Your associates as well. Gravel exhaled, glancing at Sloan. So, Im guessing were not getting our ship back. Sloan didnt reply. Hunter clicked her tongue. Priest shifted, subtly recalibrating his cybernetic hand. I count eight, he murmured under his breath. Armed. Coordinated. Gravel, you lead or me? Gravel replied, Let me. Priest could lead, no doubt, but these slime-fisted paper pushers were probably not worth his effort, and two people shouting over each other would be less than ideal. Priest nodded. Gravel let out a low whistle. Sloan. You managed to screw yourself over at the same time. Thats efficiency. His grin vanished. Fang, lights. Hunter, left flank. Priest, drop the big guy. Sloan, can you cover the exit? Before the last word left his mouth, Fang, still on comms, killed the power, plunging the room into pitch black. The only thing left was the simmering glow of the still-charging power cells on the McPherson officers rifles. Hunter moved first, slipping into the shadows and flanking two guards before they could adjust to the dark. Priest, already primed, unleashed a precise gravitational pulse at Kotoenough to throw him off balance but not enough to send him flying. A McPherson officer closed in on Priest. Gravel raised his new sidearm and squeezed the trigger. The pistol barely made a soundjust a sharp, electric whine as a burst of compressed energy slammed into the mans chest, sending him crumpling against the wall. Gravel grinned. Oh, I like this thing. How many charges does it have? A sharp pulse of gunfire lit the room for half a second before fading back into red-washed darkness. Gravel ducked low, using the flickering emergency lights to track movement. Hunter had already taken down another officer, her rifles energy burst catching them in the side before they could react. Priests gravitational pulse had sent Koto sprawling, but the man was already pushing himself upright, movements calm and controlled. As Priest charged up for another pulse, an officer near to him turned on the emergency bulb in front of his chest. The weak glow of the light cast stretching long shadows all the way to where Sloan stood. Priest caught sight of Sloan, motionless like a statue, her eyes vacant, locked on nothing. He elbowed the officer beside him, grabbed his weapon, and called out. Sloan! Wake up! She jolted, eyes snapped into focus. He tossed her the pistol, the weight of it landing firmly in her hands. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Cover the exit! he barked. The emergency light faded. She caught the weapon instinctively. Her trembling fingers found the grip through muscle memory and tightened around it. Then the fingers stopped trembling. When she moved, she moved fast, edging toward the exit. A swatting noise resounded. A shadow lunged from the corner. Sloan pulled the trigger at the noise. The shot rang out, sharp and clear, and the man staggered back with a muffled groan. His body crumpled to the ground, the sound of his struggle slowly fading as life drained from him. Youre the Deputy Executive Officer. Act like one, Sloan whispered to herself. She felt her way toward the exit, pressing against the doorframe. Theyre locking down the building, she called over the noise. One of them mustve triggered an override. Fangs voice crackled through the comms. Cant tell if or when a full team will arrive. Thats more scary. You need an exitnow. Gravel fired another silent shot, hitting an officer in the leg. He collapsed, but not before one of his allies caught sight of Gravels position and fired back. Gravel rolled out of the way. A stun blast crackled against the metal floor where hed been standing. He gritted his teeth. Fang, disable the lockdown? Yes? No? I can stall it, but not disable it, she replied. Theyre running full security protocols. Gravel shot Sloan a sideway glance. You got some secret backdoor override? Sloans jaw tightened. If I did, dont you think Id be using it? Another shot zipped past Gravels shoulder, forcing him back into cover. He reloaded the sleek new pistol with a flick of his wrist. Fine. We do this the old-fashioned way. He turned toward Priest. Holy old man, how strong can you make that gravity field? Priests cybernetic fingers flexed. What are you thinking? Gravel grinned. We make our own exit. Priests cybernetic hand twisted, fingers locking into position as he recalibrated the gravitational field. The air around him grew heavy. Distorting. Clear the center, he ordered. Hunter didnt wait. She ducked low, rolled between two McPherson officers, and bounced up. A precise elbow to the throat of one sent him stumbling, followed by a knee into his temple. He dropped. Clear, she muttered Gravel fired a shot over her shoulder. Show-off. The McPherson reinforcements were already adjusting to the darkness. Koto barked an order, and a synchronized burst of rifle fire erupted. Gravel barely had time to register the movement when one of the officers snapped his rifle up, finger pulling the trigger. Shit. The energy bolt struck him near his collarboneexcept it didnt burn, didnt penetrate. Instead, it sparked against his skin as the Morkanium alloy fused into his cells reflexively activated. The impact rippled across his torso, but the shot didnt sink in. Gravel looked down at the singed fabric where his jacket had been scorched. Fuck yeah. He grinned. Im so pro at this. The officer who shot him looked just as stunned. Gravel fired back. A short, sharp burst from his sidearm sent the man flying back into the ruined wall. Priests voice cut through the chaos. Move. So much for not having two people shouting over each other. He raised his cybernetic hand, and the gravitational pressure surged, pressing on a specific spot on the ground. The floor groaned, then buckled. With a deafening crunch, the center of the room collapsed into the tunnels below. Hunter leapt down first, landing in a crouch. Clear! Sloan followed, rolling into the fall and coming up with her rifle ready. Priest adjusted his stance, glancing at Gravel. Are you waiting for an invitation? Gravel fired two more shots for cover, then hopped in. They hit the tunnel floor just as another wave of reinforcements stormed into the ruined safehouse above. Fangs voice crackled over comms. You really made it closer than it should. Pick up a gun and join the fight if you feel you can do better, Gravel laughed, jogging to catch up with the others as they sprinted through the dimly lit passage. Hunter glanced back. Where do these tunnels lead? Sloan didnt break stride. Some of these? The old freight lanes. Others? A dead end. Gravel groaned, patting his chest where the bolt had struck. You have better odds? Priest adjusted his pace, falling in step with Sloan. Youre saying Muras right hands here? Sloan exhaled sharply. If hes here personally, that means Muras pulling strings right now to make sure we dont leave Kestris alive. Gravel sighed. So . . . I guess that means were keeping you, huh? Sloan gave him a sidelong look. You sound thrilled. Ill deal with you later. He then spoke to the comms. Fang? Fangs voice chimed in again. Youve got movement on the south exit. They seem to have figured out your escape path. Likely their full team. Priests visor flickered. How many? Fang hesitated. At least ten. At most fifteen. Priests visor flickered again, pulling in updated telemetry from Fangs scans. A readout overlaid his vision in stark red text: HOSTILE SIGNATURES: 12 POSITION: SOUTH EXIT, 30 METERS WEAPONS DETECTED: SHOCK RIFLES, HIGH-YIELD TACTICAL RECOMMENDATION: EVASION PRIORITIZED Gravel flexed his fingers, feeling the Morkanium settling under his skin. Guess its time to see how many shots I can take before it wears off. The crew picked up speed. Echoes of pursuit grew louder behind them. Chapter 18: Space Opera Illegal Break-in Gravel skidded around a corner, catching sight of their exita narrow loading bay, half-collapsed, littered with rusted crates. The southern blast doors loomed ahead, barely illuminated by the flickering emergency lights. Then came the voices. Seal off their escape! Theyve got nowhere to run! The officers were closing in. Sloan cursed under her breath, raising her stolen rifle. We need a distraction. Working on it, Priest muttered, already scanning for alternate routes, his cybernetic fingers jerking as he rerouted control overrides to Fang. Hunter''s rifle spat bursts of crimson energy. Each shot cracked against the ferrocrete walls, sending chips flying. The officers shouts became more distant, muffled by the sudden sound of body hitting the ground as they rolled over to find cover. Then Gravel saw himKoto. He moved differently than the others, stepping into the kill zone as if he were expecting a conversation, not a firefight. His shock rifle was slung across his chest, but he wasnt reaching for it. Instead, he just stood there. Sloan, Koto called out, voice calm, controlled. You dont want to do this. I can get a word in for you; for old times sake. Youre getting 20 years, max. Sloan hesitated, her weapon still raised. Koto continued. Ill tell Mura you were forced into this. That you were gathering intel. Gravel scoffed. Yeah, sure. And well get a medal too? Koto ignored him, his focus locked on Sloan. His tone sharpened, almost urgent. You dont have to go down with them. Gravel could see it happeningshe was considering it. His grip tightened around his sidearm. Then Priests voice cut through the tension, low and even. Sloan. You know better. She stiffened. Her jaw clenched, fingers flexing around the trigger. Koto took a slow step forward. Come on, Sloan. Those lowlives words are worth nothing. Youre gonna listen to those outlaw rats, or youre gonna choose reason? Gravels finger hovered the trigger. Eyes flicked. Sloan. Koto. Sloan. Koto. Am I dropping her first, or him? Sloan exhaled, a single drop of sweat tracing down her temple. She pulled the trigger. The plasma bolt ripped Kotos chest apart. He staggered, shock flashing across his face. Then he crumpled. Silence. Sloan stared down at the body, her breath shallow. Her hands, steady a second ago, trembled. Her fingernails dug crescents into the palm of her free hand. Gravel lowered his weapon. Well. Guess that settles that. Anyone want a space lager? But Sloan wasnt looking at Koto anymore. She was staring at her own hands, the rifle still clutched tight. Reality hit. She was now one of them. There was no going back. *** The air outside the industrial dockyards was thick with smog, the neon glow of Kestris undercity barely cutting through the haze. Gravel adjusted the collar of his jacket, eyes scanning the skyline as they approached the shipyard perimeter. I havent seen a single flying animal in this city since I arrived. What gives? The Black Fang was heresomewhere. Sloan walked a few steps ahead, her movements tense but measured. Shed barely spoken since Koto. Hunter had kept a wary eye on her, but Priest had said nothing. Fang whined over comms from a nearby vantage point. Guys. Im out of the loop. Tell me why were heading this way. Why do you sound like youve swallowed an ocean, Fang? Hunter asked. Did you put the mask on again? Duh. Im in an industrial zone. Sloan stashed our ship before Muras men got to it, Priest answered. Mura already knows, Sloan added flatly. I had people relocate the Black Fang to a secure impoundMuras already in contact with them. Gravel sighed. Fantastic. So much for an easy getaway. Sloan shot him a look. I didnt say it was impossible. Just difficult. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Fangs voice crackled over comms. Yeah, uh, before you guys go off, you wanna tell me where the hell Im supposed to be? Gravel winced. Fang had been monitoring from a safe position, away from the heat. Your coordinates? Couple districts out. Sloan muttered something under her breath, then switched to a secondary frequency. Theres an old transit line that runs under the impound facility. Its been decommissioned for years, but I know the maintenance access codes. Itll drop her two blocks from us, and she wont have to risk running patrols. Priest tapped at his visor. I see it. The route is mostly clear. On my way, boss, Fang said. The others remained in position, watching the security rotations, waiting. Priest studied the facility ahead, his visor pulling in security feeds and layout schematics. We need an entry point. Ive got one, Sloan said. I know the patrol schedules. Theres a shift change in ten minutes, which means a window where the new guards are getting briefed and the old ones are clocking out. If we time it right, we can slip in before they notice an extra set of faces. And even if they do, I can get through with my authority. Last I heard, Mura said youre a criminal, not a corpo executive, Hunter said. McPherson has majority ownership of this dock, but Gilneas and other smaller organizations own a share too. Mura sent Koto from his private detachment, and not the police. McPherson cant risk breaking the news about me. My educated guess is that Mura ordered the guards to not let any unauthorized personnel in under any circumstance, but didnt provide the reason why. That would work to our advantage. No guards dared stop Lin Biaos craft from taking off despite several official orders, because he was the Deputy Prime Minister. Nobody else had ever heard of the name Lin Biao or knew which planet they served as the Deputy Prime Minister of. Gravel crossed his arms. Even so, you saying we just walk in? I mean . . . you might look the part, but we look like ourselves. Hunters wearing a backpack she got from Jetpack Joyride, and Priest is . . . He stared at Priests robot arms. Theyre gonna notice. Priest immediately hid his arms inside his long overcoat. He looked marginally less suspicious. Hunter chimed in. Then we make sure theyre too busy dealing with a different problem. And we have someone for that. A vent cover near the alleyway rattled, and Fang crawled out, shaking dust from her jacket. I hate tunnels, she muttered, brushing off grime. Gravel raised a brow. You look like you lost a fight with an exhaust pipe. Sloan pulled up a holo-display, highlighting a nearby security hub. The Black Fangs locked down under automated defense protocols. But if we trip a breach alert on the opposite side of the impound yard, itll reroute security forces there. However, this is the risky part: the men who failed to catch us mightve already alerted Mura, and he might have been brave enough to tell some guards to revoke my access. We need someone to cause a mess while the rest of us move in. Fang said, I can do it. I wont mess it up. Fangs standard response wouldve been something along the lines of say no more or already on it. Somethingd sucked the confidence out of her. That immediately put Gravel on edge. He said, eyeing her. What exactly do you plan on doing? Fang looked at the ceiling. Probably something noisy. Hunter pinched the bridge of her nose. Thats not an answer. Priest tapped his visor, scanning the security feeds. The external defense grid runs on an outdated response algorithm. If we force a system lockdown, it will trigger an automatic high-priority alertone that requires manual clearance. Sloan nodded. Theres a power junction near the north entrance. Overloading it will trip the internal failsafe, and this will pull security forces off the shipyard perimeter. But it has to be precise. Fang said, I am precise. Sloan frowned. If you trigger the alarm, youll have to book it back here alone. Fang replied, Better if only one persons caught than the whole crew. Also, I can look like Im responding to the emergency instead of causing it. Gravel raised a brow. You sure? Yeah. Hunter put a hand on Fangs shoulder, and the latter shuddered for a moment. She was really losing her cool. I can come with you, Hunter said. We dont need any more risks. I can do it, really, Fang glanced up at her. I wont let you down. Kids right, Hunter. Gravel said, then turned to Fang. Appreciate it. If anything happens, tell us via comms. We wont leave you behind. Yes, Boss. Sloan asked, How are you going to make noises? Can you trigger the alarm system? She replied, I already hacked the docking system earlier, but at the original dock the Black Fang was supposed to be at. If the ship had stayed put, I couldve just overridden the lockdown and walked us in. There was barely any inflection in her voice. The ship hadnt stayed put, of course. It was Sloan who brought it to this particular dock. There was a beat of silence. Then Sloan narrowed her eyes. You broke into McPhersons docking system? Yes. Sloan stared at her with the slightest hint of disbelief, nodded, then reached into her coats inner pocket, pulling out a small, unassuming access badge. She pressed it into Fangs palm. This certifies you as McPhersons esteemed guest. If someone stops you, flash it and act important. Say youre Fumiko Nakamura. Thank you. Gravel waved a hand. Fang, go. Remember. First sign of danger, be on comms. Fang snapped a salute that was, by the standard of every single army in the galaxy, wrong, which was remarkable considering there were more right ways than wrong across the systems. Then she turned and moved toward her target. There was a slight hitch in her stride, like a single missed beat in an otherwise fluid motion, as if she''d momentarily forgotten where to place her foot. Her arms did not even sync with her legs. Maybe she was slightly fatigued. Sloans eyes flicked to the approaching security detail near the impounds main gates. We walk in. Priest adjusted his coat. Act like you belong. Hide your damn arms then, old man, Gravel said. Sloan led the way, her posture shifting as she adopted brisk, confident strides. The others followed suit, moving toward the gates as the first warning sirens roared to life in the distance. Fang had done her job. Now, it was up to them. They reached the perimeter checkpoint without a hitch. So far, Sloans plan had been working. The guards at the impound barely spared them a glance, too distracted by the blaring alarms and the flickering status feeds on their terminals. With those who did stop in their tracks to look at the crew, Sloan flashed them a badge she wore on her neck. It said Deputy Executive Officer underneath a McPherson logo. The quantum ink on the logo had an organic pattern woven into its structure, something far beyond mere engraving. Quantum ink could not be forged. They nodded at her, then resumed running. Sloans educated guess had probably been correct. Inside the facility, the Black Fang sat docked behind a high-security bay door, clamps securing its landing struts. Gravel clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to break into a sprint. Priest tapped at his visor, running a bypass on the security panel. Severing remote access. The ships ours again in ten seconds. Sloan pulled up a secondary display. Flight controls still active. If they realize were launching, theyll have skijets locked on us before were in the clouds. Skijets? Gravel snorted. Thats a weird way of spelling anti-air. I know what I said, Sloan replied. Gravels eyes slightly widened and the corner of his lip curved into an amused smirk. Sloan shot him a look, knowing he was about to say something subjectively funny but objectively unfunny. But there was no time for talking nonsense, as the loading ramp unlocked with a hiss. Fang, were grabbing you in thirty, kid. Be at the rendezvous, Gravel said on comms. Im sending the coordinates. Hurry before they patch the grid, Fang replied. Chapter 18.5: Space Opera Criminal Offense The crew moved fast. Priest booted the Black Fangs systems, cutting external feeds to prevent an automated lockdown. Gravel dropped into the pilots chair, hands flying over controls. It had been a long damn time since he had to fly this ship himselfFang had handled piloting since she joined. The clamps let out a metallic groan as they released. Stealth vector engaged, Priest reported. Keeping us under sensor sweeps. Through the viewport, Fang sprinted across the docking lanes, smoke billowing behind her from the fried power junction shed left in ruin. She had even nicked a guard jacket from somewhere, and on her petite frame, the jacket turned into an overcoat. She held the access card in her hand before realizing it was now useless and tossed it aside. It seemed like she had to flash that card earlier. Earlier, Gravel wasnt sure if Fang was slightly fatigued or not, but now he was fairly certain she was a bit more than slightly fatigued. I hate you guys, she panted over comms. I hate you all. You sound super funny running with that mask on. Hunter was already at the ramp controls. Keep running, sweetheart. Fang leaped. The ramp wasnt even fully lowered, but she grabbed the edge, hauling herself up as Hunter yanked her inside. Go, go, go! Gravel fired the thrusters, banking hard as they cleared the docking bay doors. Sirens blared below, targeting arrays snapping online. Weve got auto-missile locks! He shouted. Not for long. Priest rerouted power to countermeasures, scrambling targeting signatures just as a streak of fire shot toward them. The missile lost its lock, spiraling wide before detonating in the lower docks. Gravel exhaled sharply, hands gripping the controls tighter. Been a while since I had to do this myself. Hunter smirked. You rusty? Gravel scoffed. Please. I could fly this thing blindfolded. Uh, at least, before Fang changed the interface. Now where the fuck is the . . . He squinted at the console, flicking switches at random. The thruster balance? The nav-lock? Thewhy the hell is there a coolant purge button right next to the weapons array? Fangs voice blared through comms. Dont press that. Gravel froze mid-reach. Okay, noted. But seriously, wheres the The ship lurched as an unauthorized system recalibration warning flashed red across the dashboard. Hunter shot him a look. What. Did. You. Press. Gravel frowned at the blinking panel. Probably something unimportant. The ship shuddered, alarms flaring across the console as a high-pitched whine built up in the engine core. Fangs voice crackled through comms. Gravel, I swear on Priest and everything holy, tell me you didnt just disable inertial dampening. Gravel braced himself as the Black Fang tilted unnaturally to port. Define disable. Priest said, deadpan amidst Fangs scream in the distance. You turned off gravity compensation. Were about to get pasted against the bulkhead if you dont fix it. Let me take over. Youve piloted a ship twice in your life, retorted Gravel. Hunter, clutching the nearest surface, growled. Turn it back on before I turn you off. Gravel rapidly flipped switches, trying to retrace his mistake. Alright, alright, nobody panic, I got this. I A sudden burst of acceleration threw them all sideways as the engines recalibrated with a violent jerk. Fangs voice was pure exasperation. Youre the worst. Gravel finally found the right switch and jammed it back into place. The ship leveled out, alarms cutting off one by one. A tense silence. Gravels fingers flew over the console, bringing the Black Fang to a steady hover just above the alley where Fang waited. The ships engines hummed low, barely audible over the distant din of sirens. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Fangs voice sounded over comms. Open the ramp, Boss. Im not hanging around for an encore. Hunter tapped a control, and the rear hatch lowered. Fang sprinted forward, leaping onto the ramp just as she threw a look over her shoulder. No immediate pursuit, but they werent waiting to find out. She skidded into the hold, taking her mask off and throwing it on the ground with a plop. Go . . . Already moving, Gravel called back, fingers dancing across the console. The Black Fang lifted off, thrusters flaring as they banked upward, threading through the maze of Kestris lower skyline. Priests visor flickered as he scanned telemetry. No pursuit yet. Gravel exhaled, pushing the throttle forward. Good. Lets keep it that Warning: Air Traffic Violation. Priority Response Unit Scrambling. Fang groaned, dropping into the co-pilots seat with head slightly slumping forward. Youhuffcouldnt fly casual for two minutes? Gravel clenched his jaw. Listen, I havent had to fly the ship myself since you joined. You rewired half the controls! And who gives a shit about air traffic laws? Im sorry! But its not my fault you keep pressing buttons like they havent changed. Where the fuck is the Gravels fingers hovered over the wrong panel, nearly triggering the ships distress beacon. Fang slapped his hand away. Not that one! Maybe label your damn buttons! I will! But in the meantime, dont fly like a drunkLEFT, LEFT! Gravel yanked the controls just in time, narrowly dodging an incoming patrol craft. The Black Fang twisted into a sharp ascent, engines whining under the sudden maneuver. Priests visor updated. Still no pursuit lock, but we dont stay in orbit . . . we jump now. Can our engine initiate a jump drive? Gravel yelled, too loudly for a conversation inside a cockpit. I fixed that part myself, Hunter said with certainty. Gravel gritted his teeth, finally finding the right control. He engaged the jump drive, locking coordinates beyond Garmin-44s monitoring zones. The Black Fang shuddered as its engines roared to life, struggling to generate enough power for a jump after sitting cold for so long. Warning lights flickered across the consoleLOW ENERGY RESERVES. SYSTEM CHARGING. Gravel swore under his breath. Jump drives gotta spool up. We need a minute. Priests visor pulsed red. They have locked onto us. Ground units moving in. The ship lurched as turret fire streaked past, clipping the hull. Shields up! Fang shouted, already flicking through controls. Hunter said, Then we make sure they dont get another shot. She turned, sprinting toward the rear turret controls. The Black Fang tore through the thinning atmosphere, engines straining as the jump drive fought to spool up. The last remnants of Kestris undercity vanished belowbut pursuit wasnt letting up. Hostile signatures detected. Priests visor pulsed red. Skijets incoming. Gravel glanced at the readout. A half-dozen high-speed pursuit skijetslight, single-rider craft barely more than an exposed seat strapped to a thruster corewere closing fast. Their compact frame made them fragile, but they could weave through fire like gnats and mount grappling harpoons to latch onto larger ships. Hunter clicked her tongue. Were getting chased by glorified jetpacks. They are faster than us in atmo, Priest warned. Jump drive is at fifty percent. We need another minute. Why is everyone asking for another minute? Fang muttered. Sloan had been silent since takeoff, arms folded, gaze locked on the pursuing crafts through the viewport. When she finally spoke, her voice was tight. I can take weapons control. Fang scoffed. You any good? Sloan replied, Ive done it in simulations. Hunter cut in. No shooting. Were trying to lose them, not start a war. The second we fire, were gonna become intergalactic criminals. The lead skijet surged ahead, its pilot lining up a mag-clamp harpoon at the Black Fangs underbelly. Not happening. Hunter pivoted to the rear turret controls but didnt fire. Instead, she rerouted the ships thruster output, sending a sudden burst of exhaust in the skijets path. The pilot veered off-course to avoid the scorching plume, but two more took its place, this time coming from above rather than behind. They are wising up to the heat trick, Priest noted. Coming in from higher angles. Sloans grip tightened on the co-pilots seat. Theyre trying to cripple us, not kill us. Comforting, Gravel muttered. He pulled hard on the thruster, sending the ship into a sharp barrel roll. The skijets scrambled to adjustone clipped the Black Fangs stabilizer, spiraling out of control before detonating. Jump drive at seventy percent. One of the remaining skijet riders leaned forward, angling an energy caster at the ships starboard side. Boss, drop us left! Fang snapped. He hesitatedthen yanked the controls. The Black Fang veered down hard, just as the energy shot seared past where theyd been. Fang fired the vent thrusters again, sending a short burst of heat and debris into the nearest skijet. The rider jerked away, momentarily blinded. Hunter sent another burst of exhaust, clipping one of the pursuers. Priest, wheres my jump? Ninety percent! The final skijets closed intoo close. The rider at the forefront twisted mid-air, their harpoon firing directly toward the viewport. Fang moved. But Sloan moved first. She lunged forward, grabbing Gravels wrist and yanking the controls up. The ship pitched violently, the harpoon barely scraping the underside instead of punching through. Gravel didnt have time to yell at her. Priests voice cut through the chaos. Jump drive ready! Gravel slammed the engage switch. The ship shook. Quaked. Convulsed. Then shook again. The skijets dropped away. The stars stretched. They were gone. Chapter 19: Space Opera Data Retrieval The Black Fang drifted in orbit, safe for now. The blue curve of Kestris lay below, distant yet far too close for comfort. The ship vibrated like it was going through five fits of cough at once before stabilizing from the jump, its systems slowly resetting after the chaos of their escape. Fang barely acknowledged any of it. She pressed both hands to the nearest bulkhead, then her forehead, thenwithout a hint of shamekissed the cold metal. Missed you, sweetheart. Dont be scared; youre alright now. Gravel gave her a flat look. You done? Give me a minute, she muttered, running her hands reverently over the console. Shes been through hell. Sloan, arms still crossed, raised an eyebrow. Its a ship. Fang narrowed her eyes at her. Its our ship. You wouldnt get it, ship thief. Hunter, passing by, didnt even bother hiding her smirk. Weirdest relationship Ive seen, but you do you. Second weirdest for her alone, Gravel said. As Gravel was about to turn away, Fang turned to Hunter, then to him. Gravel could tell something was gnawing at her by the way her boots rubbed against one another. Guys, Im sorry, she said. Hunter asked, For what? Fang rubbed a thumb against her palm like she wanted to wipe something away. I couldn''t detect the armed detachments when they closed in on you. Not until it was too late. I . . . I lost focus. I''m sorry. Gravel scoffed, leaning a hip against the bulkhead. Nobody''s blaming you. Wed still be figuring out which alley to die in if you hadnt mapped out the escape first. You were brave back there, kid. Appreciate it. He nodded toward her. Just get your personal drama sorted. I dont want that screwing up our missions again.
Roger. Fang nodded, keeping her head down, staring at the floor. Priest, meanwhile, was focused on something far more pressing. He sat at the ships terminal, fingers tapping at the interface, frowning as error messages flickered across the holo-display. Connection Lost. Remote Link Disrupted. Decryption Process Halted. The files from the drive still glowed dimly on-screen, some portions decrypted, others buried under corrupted data strings. Hunter leaned over the back of Priests chair. Thats bad, yeah? Priest didnt respond right away, jaw set. We lost Vanje. Gravel walked over, frowning. What do you mean, lost? Priest exhaled through his nose. I mean, the links dead. No trace, no signal. A hush settled over the room. Gravel straightened. So the drive? Priest drummed his fingers against the console, eyes narrowing. The parts we decrypted are intact. But the rest? It is locked in this state unless we find another way through. Hunter plopped on the ground, groaning. Great. Half a conspiracy. Thats super useful. You think Vanje cut and ran? Or was he cut off? Priests visor flickered as he scanned for any residual signals. I would be surprised the connection is intact after a space jump. Gravel muttered something under his breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Alright. Were in orbit. Weve got our ship back. We can figure out the rest later. He turned to Sloan. Where can we drop you? Sloan, who had been quiet, finally looked up. Her face was blank and her fingers were gripping the edge of a console to steady herself. Kestris, she said. Gravel frowned. Kestris? Like Kestris number 9 and not any other digit? Sloan exhaled, something flickering behind her eyes. Its been my home my entire life. A beat passed. Then, softer. Ive never been anywhere else. That landed heavier than anyone expected. Gravel exchanged a glance with Priest, who said nothing. Hunter shifted her weight. Even Fangwho usually had a quip for everythingstayed quiet for half a second longer than usual. Then Fang muttered, Well. Sucks to be a corpo lapdog, I guess. Her voice was much less snarky than normal. Sloan shot her a dry look. Gravel rubbed his temple. Right. Lets start with not going back there. Sloan didnt argue. Gravel continued, But Im not letting you stay. Hunter leaned against the bulkhead, arms crossed. We cant just drop her in space. Gravel gestured at the viewport with his chin. Theres plenty of places that arent here. Fozzia-16 dont give a shit about fugitives. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Sloan arched a brow. Charming. Hunter smirked. Look, Im just saying. We dont need to argue about whether she stays. We all know were not about to shove her out an airlock. Of all the things you want to fight about, you chose to fight about this. Gravel folded his arms. Okay then. We do a vote. Gravel. No arguments. We do a vote. Priest spoke up from across the room. You are going to want to see this, children. The quiet weight in his tone made everyone turn. He gestured toward the screen. I was combing through the last decrypted portions. Looking for anything solid. Gravel frowned. And? Priest tapped a specific line of text, making it pulse faintly on the display. A name. Sloan Albrecht. The room went still. Gravel turned to Sloan. Care to explain? Sloan barely glanced back at him. Explain what? He gestured toward the screen. Why your name is in the drive. Then he stepped one step closer to her, staring her down. Sloan blinked. What drive? Hunter scoffed, crossing her arms. The one we got from Namor-4. The one weve been decrypting for days. The one that got us into this mess. Sloans brow furrowed slightly. I didnt know such a thing existed. Then whys your name in there? We got this from another planet. You said you havent even been outside of Kestris-9. I dont know. I havent even heard of Namor before. Sloans face barely shifted, but there was something in her eyesconfusion, maybe, or something deeper. Gravel didnt buy it. He narrowed his eyes. Right. Because top-level corporate data just randomly decides to throw your name in for fun. Sloan exhaled, crossing her arms in what appeared to be a perfect mimic of Hunters. Why dont you read out loud what kind of intel my names attached to, Dakarai? I go by Priest now, thank you. Priests fingers flicked over the console, pulling up the surrounding text. Lines of half-corrupted data scrolled past until he isolated the relevant section. Priests fingers flicked over the console, pulling up the surrounding text. Lines of half-corrupted data scrolled past until he isolated the relevant section. A grainy, corrupted block of data flickered into clearer focus, timestamped years ago. Authorization LogClassified Shipment Transfer Approved by: Sloan Albrecht Destination: Secure Processing Facility (REDACTED) Contents: Biotechnical Materials The file ended there, with sections underneath still redacted or scrambled beyond readability. Sloan frowned. That doesnt tell me anything. It tells me you greenlit something, Gravel said. A shipment of biotechnical materials? What was it? Where was it going? She shook her head, brow furrowing. I dont remember approving anything like that. Hunter narrowed her eyes. Yeah, convenient. You recall anything that has to do with diamond-armored sabertooth tigers, reinforced vultures, or animated corpses? Gravel asked Sloan. What? Now it was Sloans turn to narrow her eyes. No such documents? I dont recall. Sloans tone sharpened. Do you know how much paperwork went through my hands back in Kestris? Thousands of routine approvals, shipments, transfers. And that file doesnt even tell me what the cargo actually was. Gravel wasnt buying it. Or you just dont want to remember. Sloans jaw tightened. Ive never been off-world. So why the hell would I be involved in something that ended up on an obscure planet? Priests visor flickered, running another pass through the corrupted segments. He exhaled slowly. We cant prove shes lying. The approval is there, but nothing links her to knowing what it was for. Hunter folded her arms. Or, that part is whats still encrypted. Sloans fingers curled against the console, frustration flickering in her eyes. If this is supposed to mean something, then decrypt the rest of it. Because right now, all I see is my name on some old shipping log. Gravel wasnt convinced, but he turned back to Priest. Can you break through the rest? Priests fingers hovered over the controls. Not without Vanje. A silence settled over them. Fang, who had been catching a breath and sipping over a cup of refiltered water that tasted like the closed-loop filtration system itd been in, finally spoke. So. Were stuck with half a conspiracy. And this, she gestured at Sloan, is the only clue weve got? I do not appreciate you referring to me like that. Sloan exhaled sharply. And what are you gonna do about it? Fang jerked her chin up. You gonna arrest me now? Call the guards? Have me dragged off in cuffs? Oh wait, you cant! You Fang. Hunter glared daggers at her. Fang shut her mouth, eyes back on the floor. Shutting up now. Sorry. She put a hand on her hip. What I wont tolerate is being treated like a suspect. if I knew what this was about, I wouldnt be sitting here letting you all interrogate me. Gravel studied her for a long moment, then sighed. Well, guess what? Now you do have to care. He pushed himself off the console and motioned toward the corridor. Come on, youre bunking in the spare room. And by spare room, I mean the storage closet with a mattress in it. Sloan pursed her lips. Fine. Gravel kept walking. Yeah, well, we werent planning on housing fugitives. He pointed toward the dimly lit door near the engine bay. There. Thats your spot. Sloan glanced at the tiny room, its walls lined with metal crates, a rickety cot crammed into the corner. You know, I was about to give you all a warmer welcome back in Kestris. Gravel smirked, leaning against the doorframe. Yeah? And what, roll out a red carpet? Give us a flickberry basket? Sloan gave him a flat look. Something like that. She stepped inside, brushing dust off the cot before sitting down. This room would be illegal on Kestris. Your planet doesnt have squats? Yeah, right. Gravel snorted. Hunter passed by, pausing just long enough to peer into the room. This place is a mess. Gravel clapped her on the shoulder. Great observation. Now clean it. Hunter scoffed. Why me? When was the last time youve done any cleaning around here? Also, Im busy dealing with our newest resident. Hunter folded her arms. And Im busy dealing with you. Sloan exhaled. Ill clean it myself. Gravel grinned. See? Shes adjusting already. Fangs voice chimed in over the intercom. If this is about cleaning duty, then nope. Not me. No way. Hunter shot a look up at the speaker. Coward. Back at the common room, Priest leaned back, watching the screen. The incomplete data etched onto his irises. Chapter 20: Space Opera Panic Attack (Fang/Sloan) Hua Fang was a free-falling expert. She had more extensive knowledge of falling than a skydiver. In a single month, she managed to fall out of favor with her family, fall behind on her PhD, fall prey to a neural bond pyramid scheme, fall face-first into a trap set by an old enemy, and fall in love. Only seven years ago, she was a graduate of Shenzhen Nexus University, falling just short of High Distinction for her Bachelor of Astrodynamics and Interstellar Navigation. She had been a local celebrity, having won so many orbital spaceship races as a teenager as well as a couple hackathons to boot. Now? She was a space hobo. When Fang decided to pursue Interstellar Navigation, her father had yelled at her for three months straight. He wanted her to take up a field that had real utility, something more conventional. On Earth. Hua Xin, her older brother, the model child, had tragically died mining space rocks, and that had implanted an entrenched, constituted fear in those who he had left behind. Those who had never once been in space. Hua Fang, you will not throw your life away like your brother did. Her father had slammed his fist on the table the day she told him of her choice. But that only fueled her desire to follow through with her decision. She had seen Liu Jiye, her cousin from her mothers side, made it in space, albeit as a Republic watchdog, and had thought to herself countless times. Why cant I have the same freedom? But Liu Jiye was born in space. Hua Fang, on the other hand, was born in Tianjing Monarchy. It was Tianjing, the place where the state could zoom in on your loose strand of hair once you stepped foot out of your door. It was the place where every street was lined with stone monuments of the past emperor, and of the one before that, and of the one before that. The place where every word you spoke carried the weight of centuries of traditions and fourty-eight editions of The Code of Conducts. The place where space was nothing but a tale of horror whispered to children before they were of age, of the treacherous aliens lurking behind the asteroid belts, of the dishonorable overlords siphoning the life essence out of every exploitable planet, of artificial supernovae explosions of horrific proportions. Of every and all evil that would never exist inside Tianjing. Tianjing was a good country; the best country on Earth. But that luxury wasnt enough for Hua Fang. She wasnt going to study what everyone else was studying, and she definitely wasnt going to sit quietly and wait for a pre-detemined future. She was going to prove to everyone she could be content, she could be happy, she could be prideful. In her own way. Not the Tianjing way. Hua Fang had started with a dream and a small fortune to herself. Now, she had neither. She was a space hobo. And her love life might as well fall apart now. Most of the crew had scatteredPriest still digging through the drive, Sloan keeping to herself, Hunter off doing whatever kept her sane, probably taking showers until Gravel shouted at her about the importance of preserving water. Gravel was in the common room, watching a Flickball tournament, something that was only possible because Fang had personally set up a pirated uplink for him. Fang couldnt believe such a gimmick sport had a competitive scene that was broadcasted galaxy-wide. But then again, League of Legends (the 47th reboot) was broadcasted. Fang sat curled up in her bunk, holo-slate balanced on her knees, hesitated before opening her messages. Five unread texts. Three missed calls. Her stomach twisted. She already knew what this was about. Kai: Fang? Kai: Please call me back as soon as you can. Kai: Please be okay. Kai: Fang. Kai: Where are you now? Fang exhaled, running a hand through her hair. Shit. Shit. Shit. She shouldve checked sooner. She wanted him to not worry about her, and managed to achieve the exact opposite. Her fingers hovered over the call buttonthen stopped. Fang chewed her lip, opting to text instead. Fang: Im here. The response was instant. Kai: Finally. Kai: Are you hurt anywhere? Fang inhaled slowly. Keep it normal. Keep it light. Fang: Im good! :D :D :D Fang: Flying. Tuning systems. You know how it is. Kai: Fang. Fang: Seriously, Kai, its not a big deal. Nothing. Then Kai: Im calling. Her breath hitched. No, no, no. Fang: Kai, youre in class. Kai: Lecture ended an hour ago. Fang: Damn, mustve been the Trans-Galactic Saving Time at work! There was no such thing as the Trans-Galactic Saving Time. Kai: Pick up. Her pulse hammered. If she answered, hed know. Fangs fingers curled around the slate. She had one chance to fix this. So she did the only thing she could think of She panic-texted him a wall of words. Fang: Okay, listen, its really not a big deal I swear, we just had a bit of a thing earlier but its fine now, I promise, I mean it, totally under control, I wasnt even in danger really, just some stupid corpo nonsense that was way overblown but everythings good now and I dont wanna worry you because you have more important things to deal with like your dissertation and sleep and food and existing in general so you dont have to call I SWEAR just text me back, okay? Silence. Then Kai: . . . Fang. Then Kais voice came through a voice text. Fangs fingers trembled as she hit play. Im not mad, he said in a deep, cooing voice. Fang exhaled, pressing her forehead against her knees. I just . . . Kai hesitated. I dont like feeling this helpless. Fangs fingers twitched over her slate. Guilt. Thats what it was. Curling up inside her, clawing at her ribs. She was doing this. She was the reason he sounded like that. Her breath hitched, and before she could think, before she could stop herself Fang: I swear, I swear, Ill tell you everything from now on, I wont keep things from you, Ill text you first, I wont wait until its bad, Ill tell you the truth, just please dont be upset, I promise Ill be better, Ill do better, Ill tell you everything, okay? Please, please, just dont worry. Please, sweetie. The moment she hit send, her stomach twisted. The read receipt popped up. Silence. Her fingers clenched around the slate. Stolen novel; please report. Then Kai: You know you always text the most basic things when you''re in damage control, right? Fangs grip tightened. Kai: You always say it like that, like youre reading off a script you wrote just to keep me from being mad. She swallowed hard, fingers frozen over the keyboard. Fang: Thats not She stopped. Her own words stared back at her. A beat. Then Kais next message came in. Kai: I dont need you to tell me everything, Fang. Kai: But Id like to know when youre about to, you know, almost die. Kai: But youre always off doing things that might hurt you, and I never know what exactly youre getting into. Fang curled up tighter, pressing the slate against her chest. She typed. Deleted. Typed again. Fang: Im sorry. Kai: Yeah, its all good. Glad youre safe. Kai: Can I call in 30 mins? Fang stared at the screen, heart pounding. Her fingers fidgeted and she kept gripping and releasing her grip on the holo-screen, despite not being able to grab it. It was a holo-screen, after all. He was letting it go. For now. Her fingers hovered, then she typed Fang: Of course. Ill be here. She hesitated. Deleted. Fang: Yeah. Call whenever :D The read receipt popped up. Kai didnt text back. Fang shut off the holo-slate and pressed it to her forehead. She felt like an idiot. Not just because of how she handled the whole Kai situation. Because of everything else. She had thought she was so good at hacking systems and overseeing movements, like the second coming of Earths Anonymous. Yet she couldnt detect Kotos force closing in until it was too late. She had had too many tasks to juggle, too many tabs opened, and didnt see it until it was too late. It wasnt the first time shed been under pressure. Or so she thought. Turns out, outmaneuvering rival hackers in a Hackathon wasnt pressure. Real pressure was fumbling a decision and sending your crewmates into a potential death trap. Fang was only good at flying and hacking, after all. She couldve been a commercial pilot or a cybersecurity specialistsomething safe, something predictable. Like her father had intended. She didnt know why Gravel agreed to have her on the crew after she asked for the second time. Maybe the man was prone to mistaking confidence for competence. Why the hell did I think I was destined for anything special? Thirty minutes later, on the dot, Fangs holo-slate buzzed. She stared at the screen. Incoming Call: Kai. He had always been so incredibly punctual. She pressed on the Accept button, and immediately from the other end came an affectionate exasperation. You okay? The question was gentle. Not prying, not demanding, just . . . there. Waiting. She exhaled. Yeah. I am. You look pretty okay, if not a bit sleep-deprived. Still freakishly hot though. As do you. The hot part, not the sleep-deprived part. He smiled. His smile was like starlight on still water. Well, Fang. Since you wont tell me about your day, why dont I tell you about mine? Id love to hear it. He proceeded to tell her about his Law professor, who spent thirty full minutes ranting about a student who had turned in an AI-generated paper. They all got a free lecture on the artistic integrity of thesis writing. Fang let out a quiet breath. Kai was giving her an easy out, filling the silence so she wouldnt have to. But he shouldnt have to. He always did this, let her slip past the hard conversations, even when she knew he wanted to know more. Even when she knew he deserved more. He was too perfect for her. If he knew the life she led, he wouldnt be here talking to her. Hed be talking to someone who wasnt a criminal. So why should she think so much about something she had no choice over? Fang flashed him her brightest grin. What happened next? Tell me. *** The irksome whirring of the ship was softer beneath the layers of insulated bulkheads. The storage closetSloans temporary quarterswas small, cluttered, and not any more private than a shared bunk with a faulty curtain. She hadnt done much to settle in. There wasnt much to settle into. She sat on the edge of the cot, elbows resting on her knees, staring at the overhead light. For some reason, the light over her room had a yellowish tint to it, in contrast to the whiter shade in the other lounges. The brightness of the screen in front of her was reduced to minimum, and the faint light from diagnostic readouts cast dull blue patterns across her face. If only before her eyes were the sterile, fluorescent corridor of the 11th floor of McPherson Dynamics. That corridor, so precisely organized and bathed in clinical light, led to her personal office. White with the occasional black stripes, it was outfitted with a holographic swivel chair that adjusted to her every whim, and a transparent work table embedded with a digital interface that projected her days schedule in 3D. On one wall, a framed hologramher own candid smile captured during a rare moment of joy amidst endless deadlines. Her holographer had told her to smile for the camera. In a discreet compartment built into the desk, she kept another, more personal photo. Of her and her family. Her father appeared every bit the emblem of quiet authority, etched with fine lines of disappointment and unfulfilled expectations. Her mother was nowhere to be seen. Not on this photo, nor on any other. She tried to imagine the moment her father learned that the woman he never fully trusted had become a criminala killerwhat kind of expression would he have had? His eyes would narrow, scrutinizing every misstep in her life, and the familiar stern tone that once attempted to guide her would turn into a sharp reprimand, laden with regret. The very idea would shatter the delicate veneer of order he clung to, leaving him to wonder where his daughter had strayed from the path, and whether the chasm that separated them could ever be bridged again. Look, Dad. Ive climbed the ladder higher than you ever could, shed once told him, her voice steady and defiant. Now, that declaration lingered on her like a perpetual bitterberry on the tip of her tongue. But it stung less than the answer hed given her. Qualified people mustve been rarer lately. She was probably not as qualified, not as smart as she believed she was. Mura must have tracked her activities. Catching her in the act with this rogue crew was just the final piece of irrefutable evidence to secure her downfall. The quiet creak of the door broke her from her thoughts. She didnt look up. Didnt peg you for the checking-in type. Priest leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. The light from his visor clashed against the subdued lighting from above like they were in a game of tug-of-war, casting his irises into a murky veil of refracted color. You have not slept. Sloan exhaled, rolling her neck. Im like 100 years past curfew already. You are thinking about something. She snorted. Your years of experience as a strategist are really shining through. Priest didnt react, which made it worse somehow. Of course he didnt. Stoic bastard. A silence stretched between them, and for once, Sloan wasnt in the mood for it. She shifted, glancing at him. Do you remember that awful lunch spot near the transit hub? Priest tilted his head slightly. Sloan continued, half-smiling. Back when you were still a logistics officer. You used to grab lunch from there all the time. Swore up and down they had the best fried rice in the district. Whats the name . . . Priest was quiet for a second longer than necessary. Then, evenly, It was good fried rice. Sloan huffed out a quiet laugh. It was overpriced fried rice, for something so synthetic. I did not say it was affordable. Sloan leaned back against the wall. She figured a more relaxed stance would make him less in-guard. I remember you making me try it. I think that was the only time we ever sat down for lunch together. Priest studied her, then said, You did not complain about the food at the time. Sloan snorted. No, but I did complain about the company. Only once. Loudly. Priest huffed. Almost a laugh. Almost. Sloan shook her head, staring at the ceiling again. Feels like a lifetime ago. Priest didnt disagree. The silence returned, but this time, it wasnt uncomfortable. Sloan let it sit for a while before sighing. Youre really not gonna let me stay up in peace, huh? Priest didnt move from the doorway. Not my problem if you sleep or not. A pause. I figured you would need it. He reached into his coat, then tossed something her way. Sloan caught it out of reflex, blinking down at the small, foil-wrapped packet in her palm. Protein ration. One of the better ones. Sloan glanced at him again. Thanks. He just gave a slow nod, pushing off the doorframe. Alright. He turned to leave, but just before he stepped out, Sloans voice stopped him. Hey, Dakarai. Sloan rolled the ration between her fingers, then leaned forward, elbows on her knees. Her voice was casual, or at least she had tried keeping it as casual as it could be. Priest had told her long ago that it didnt work, and that she was always halfway between a joke and a threat, like she couldnt decide whether to amuse or unsettle. You know, I couldve made things a lot harder for you back on Kestris. Priest paused in the doorway, turning just slightly. Sloan continued, tilting her head. I couldve locked down the impound tighter. She flipped the ration packet. Instead, I made sure the Black Fang was somewhere retrievable. I kept my men off your backs when I could. I wasnt trying to be your enemy. Priest didnt react at first, and his grey eyes grew even hazier as they hid behind the adjusted brightness of the visor. Then, after a beat, he exhaled. No point sweet-talking me. We are in this mess together, no matter what. Her lips curved into a half-smiled as she stretched her legs out. See, I prefer allies to co-conspirators. A pause. Then, almost offhand, he added, Especially with your name in the drive. Sloans fingers stilled against the ration packet. Priest continued, If you really want to be an ally, it might be a good time to tell us what you actually know. Sloans grip on the ration eased. I told you. I dont know anything else. She rolled the packet between her fingers. What good do you get from this? Priest said, It helps us solve the mystery. Not that. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. What good do you get from solving mysteries for this crew? Priest didnt answer right away. If he had one at all, it wasnt immediate. More than what I got from you, He finally replied as he shifted back toward the hallway. Now thats venom. He still has it in him. Sloan didnt argue. She just let her half-smile linger as the door slid shut behind him. Chapter 21: Space Opera Youtube Ad (Gravel) The terminal beeped as Gravel emerged from the corridor, eyes locked onto the message screen projected from his left wristband. He was long overdue to another message from Zizi, though it wouldnt matter since he could just blame the rubbish indirect comm line that would have to go through multiple relays to reach her planet. Reading the message alone would probably take up the entire advertisement segment that was showing on the holo-broadcaster on his other wristband around his right wrist, but it was a better time than any. He couldnt lose a moment of action of the Flickball finalthe biggest match of the seasongoing on. The message from Zizi read: Hey hey! So have you gotten that thing you guys were supposed to get yet? Surely you have. I did tell you last time to drink some groney if you feel fatigued, but you got even MORE fatigued! Surely you didnt listen to me (_)? So, uh, we had a few new orders come in, hehe. Nothing too wild, just some basic repairs on space station panels and a broken plasma torch from a very peculiar customer. He walked in wearing a full spacesuit, even though the air outside was perfectly breathable? Maybe he didnt wanna catch the country bumpkin air (???) He was kind of sweating in it, but refused to take it off. We couldnt figure out if he was hiding something. But he paid in local currency, up front! So its all good. But you know what? You know what? He had the weirdest thing on the fingertips of his glove! Its like a material that can switch colors almost instantly! One second it flashed green, but then shifted into a near-void black! When it turned black, there were even ripples of blue flowing throw it like tiny rivers! Ive never seen anything like that, but I was too scared to ask (>?<) Speaking of Grandpa, we had an adventure the other day. Scraps flew off. AGAIN. AGAIN, Gravel! Grandpa and I spent HOURS searching, closed the shop early, and trekked all over the yard looking for him. At one point, we thought we heard Scraps meowing from the top of a junk pile, but nope! It was just a malfunctioning speaker. So we had to search again, and then, then! After the sun set, we finally saw his little wings fluttering above the heap of old hulls. And guess what? He had a note tied to his tail! From somebody! Youre gonna ask whats in the note, huh? Well come over and Ill tell you (?????) Anyway, you dont have to reply right away. I know youre busy. But Id love to hear from you when you get the chance! Byeeeee Huh, he thought. This weeks wall of text was even longer than the last one, but shed forgotten the ~ she had always added to every Byeeeee. He was about to send a text back when he noticed her new profile picture, or at least the one shed changed into before last week. He clicked on it, and it was striking. She looked completely different from the usual, messy, grease-streaked images hed gotten used to. The soft glow of the image, whether natural or engineered, caught her face at the perfect angle. He was never into cutesy, but he had to admit, she looked really cute. A wispy bob of dark hair contrasted against her small lips and pale skin, the moonlight-reflecting-off-a-sheet-of-frost kind of pale. She looked so white it was almost surrealpaler than most of the already pale locals from her planet, even the Rorzuian people who often had such a striking, ghostly complexion. At least her light makeup and a grin so toothy it squinted her eyes made her look lively enough. And then there was Scraps who perched innocently on her shoulder. The tiny creature, a strange feline-like purple pet with bat-like wings, seemed to be an extension of Zizi herself, with an equally silly grin. Zizis full name was in the corner, the kind of irremovable watermark that the social media site automatically stamped on every image it hosted. It read: Zivizien Gortuportu. How many takes did it take her to get a photo like this, he thought. He couldnt stop thinking about how deliberate the image felt. Maybe there were many more on her local social media that hed missed. Shed made him make a social media account on Kratu just to befriend her so she could show him her old pet thatd passed away. He didnt even reply to any woman after hed left a planet, much less followed a social media account on a platform so obscure it didnt even sync with the cross-galaxy system in real time. Maybe Fang wasnt that far off when she kept teasing about how Gravel was giving Zizi the special treatment. Gravel was finally about to type out a reply, but then the commentators voices from the holo-broadcaster boomed, their animated enthusiasm echoing in the background as the disc soared past both players and into the air. The match was on the edge of a knife. Damn it, he thought, The message would have to wait. Gravels head snapped back to the screen, his grip on the edge of the terminal tightening as the action unfolded in real-time. Aslan IV from Haret against Teven Monsan from Crimson-1. Aslan IV leaped to block, but Monsan was faster, catching the disc with a slick twist before sending it straight into the goal. The score was leveled. Soon, the energy disc zipped across the court, both players locked in a brutal back-and-forth. Come on, he muttered, pacing as he walked out of his quarter. The next serve could decide the entire match. The server stepped up, paddle poised Then the screen cut to black. A cheerful voice filled the room. We interrupt this broadcast to bring you an exclusive investment opportunity! Gravel froze. The holo-screen now displayed a rotating 3D model of a dull, crater-pocked asteroid. Own a piece of the future! Secure your very own plot of prime asteroid real estate on the fringes of the Koman solar system. Connect with the bold pioneers of humanitys expansion from Earth and its twin planet, Haret! A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Gravels eye twitched. Who the fuck puts an ad right before an important serve? He jabbed at the holo-broadcaster, cycling channels, but the damage was done. The match was gone, lost beneath the droning sales pitch of some poor sap promising frontier luxury in the middle of a frozen rock belt. It wasnt like he had many opportunities to watch matches without interferences like this. Before Priest joined, hed only had access to local data caches that updated whenever they passed through a relay point. Priest had brought satellite tap-ins with him, and Fang, stolen signal boosters. Those very boosters provided illegal access to the GalNet, but they were unreliable, because they were, well, illegally acquired. Gravel groaned, dragging a hand down his face. I hope their whole asteroid gets repossessed. That was the moment he found himself in the common room. Priest and Hunter were already there. Priests visor flickered as he pulled up the latest Republic enforcement logs and projected it for the crew to see. A moment later, the screen filled with official warrants and bounty postings. The words WANTED FOR ARREST stared back at them in bold red text. Hunter waved at Gravel. Can you watch the highlights later? Seems like theres another announcement concerning ourselves youd like to know. Gravel leaned in, a cold glass of beer-flavored caffeinated water in his hand. Sure. Whatever. Alright, lets see how famous we are. Then the words hit him. Unauthorized Impound Seizure. Assault on Enforcement Personnel. Theft of Restricted Data. He spotted the number. His eye twitched even harder than when looking at the asteroid ad earlier. Fifty hundred thousands? Gravel leaned back, arms crossed. Thats it? This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Hunter, arms folded, raised a brow. You mad about being a wanted man, or mad about being cheap? Im mad about the lack of respect. He gestured broadly at the screen. We stole a ship, punched out some officers, made a daring escape, and were worth less than an old freighter on the salvage market. Priest, still scrolling, made a quiet noise. McPhersons offering more. Nine point five hundred thousands, private bounty. Gravel scoffed. See? They get it. Though they really couldnt add an extra fifty and make it a million. I like the ring to million dollar outlaws much better. Rolls off the tongue. Hunter smirked. Well, the bounty wouldve shot up if we had Conspiracy Against Republic Interests over our heads. Gravel clicked his tongue. Missed opportunities. Then Fangs voice cut through, tight and urgent. Are our real names on there? Priest tapped through a few more screens, checking the database. A moment later, his visor flickered. Aliases for most of us, except for Sloan. A pause. Fangyour real names listed. I told you to use a codename. Dont whine about it now. Gravel peeked at the projection closer. At least I dont see a last name. Fangs fingers curled against the console, pressing so hard it ached, but she barely noticed. Her skin prickled with an anxious heat that made it impossible to stay still. She flexed her hands, then balled them into fists. The back of her heels rubbed against one another. Worried your loverboys gonna find out? Gravel smirked, sipping his drink. Whats he gonna do, ground you? Fang barely heard Hunters sigh before she continued, words spilling too fast. I promised him. I told him Id visit. Hunter exhaled, tilting her head toward Fang. Youre acting like hes got Republic alerts on speed dial. If he finds out, he finds out. But spiraling about it wont change anything. Fangs nails dug into her palms. You dont get it. Hunter folded her arms. I do. You just dont want to hear it. Gravel leaned back, swirling his drink. Youre actually gonna entertain this? He scoffed. The kid chose this life. That childish nonsense is the least of her worries. She should be worried about getting a positive credit score. Fang snapped her head toward him. Its not nonsense. Gravel shrugged. If its so important to you, you figure it out. Because unless hes got some secret pirate life you never told us about, you two dont belong in the same world. Tough luck, kid. Hunter shot Gravel a look. Not helping. Im not here to help. Gravel set his drink down with a dull clunk against the console. Im just being realistic. Fang bit the inside of her cheek. Priest, still scrolling, finally spoke. Fang. Can you operate? Fangs jaw tightened, but she forced herself to inhale, slow and measured, before nodding. Priest didnt look up. We need to move. Get to the cockpit and steer us to outer orbitnow. She pushed off the console, turning on her heel. Gravel clicked his tongue. Why does she listen to you without a word and she just has to bark back at me? Hunter smirked, arms still folded. Because youre an ass. Go console the kid then, if youre such a nice and understanding person. Hunter rolled her eyes. She doesnt need consoling. She needs time. You just suck at it as much as I do, but you dont wanna admit it. Hunter scoffed. I dont suck at it. I just know when to back off, unlike a certain someone. Gravel gestured vaguely toward the cockpit. And what, letting her sit up there stewing in her own head is better? Priest finally looked up from his screen. We are wasting time. He pulled up a new set of star maps, his visor flickering as he highlighted a sector. Well need a port that doesnt care about Republic warrants. Hunter glanced at the screen. You have one in mind? Priest tapped the map, bringing a distant system into focus. Mendax-12. Weak central authority, plenty of black-market traffic, and an old relay station we can use to reroute our signal. Gravel grinned. I dont love the fact I cant go to Fujima-8 to watch medball anymore, but sure, Mendax it is. Sloan strolled in like she hadnt been absent for half the conversation, arms crossed, eyes flicking to the viewport beside them. The Black Fang didnt have many windowstoo much risk, too little needbut the reinforced observation panel in the common area gave a clear view of the void beyond. She stopped just short of the table, her gaze lingering outside. The endless black, punctuated only by distant stars, stretched on infinitely. Mendax-12? she said, almost distractedly. Bold choice. Gravel didnt even look at her. Oh, great. Youre here. Happy to hear knowledge from someone whos never been to space before. Sloan didnt rise to the bait. Instead, she exhaled slowly, almost like she was grounding herself. Its bigger than I expected. Gravel snorted. What, space? She shot him a dry look. Her fingers tapped idly against the edge of the console as she kept looking out. Priest didnt react, but Hunter raised a brow. You never even looked out a port window back on Kestris? Sloans lips pressed together. Kestris skies are orange with smog. This is different. Gravel leaned back, unimpressed. Great. Shes having an existential crisis. Can we get back to the part where you tell me how Mendax is problematic and your vision of an ideal port planet is so much better? Sloan finally turned from the viewport, arms still crossed. Mendax isnt problematic. Just inconvenient. Gravel raised an eyebrow. You saying that because its true, or because its the first time you wont have the luxury of walking in with some corpo badge backing you up? Sloans expression didnt flicker, but her fingers curled slightly against her arm. Im saying it because half the syndicates operating there will sell you out for half your bounty. If you dont know the right people, youll barely last a cycle before someone decides youre worth more dead than alive. And as far as my professional network goes, I dont have any viable contacts in that region. Gravel tilted his head. Alright, then. You got a better alternative? Sloan didnt hesitate. Junos Drift. Its got independent docking stations, looser security screenings, and a trade hub that isnt crawling with bounty runners looking for easy credits. Gravel snorted, already shaking his head. Yeah, Mendax it is. Not trusting you to pick where we land. Sloan exhaled, her patience visibly thinning. Then why ask? Gravel grinned. Wanted to see if youd actually contribute something useful. Jurys still out. Gravel stretched, already pushing up from his seat. Alright, Im done with this conversation. Hunter, you wanna hit the rec lounge? Play some He waved a hand vaguely. Flickball? Hunter raised a brow. You sure you wanna lose again? Or are you just a glutton for punishment? Gravel scoffed. Bold of you to assume I didnt go easy on you. Sloan made a face. Gravel caught it instantly. He smirked. What? You look like you swallowed a bitterberry. Sloan gestured at the room around them. You have a dedicated space for sports? Gravel leaned against the doorway, watching her reaction. Obviously unhappy she gets a glorified storage closet while we have room for a damn game lounge. He clicked his tongue, pretending to consider something. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he shrugged. Alright, fine. You wanna come? Sloan blinked, clearly not expecting that. Ive never heard of Flickball before. Gravel grinned. Sucks to live your life, then. Hunter snorted. Yeah, that tracks. Sloan exhaled slowly, like she was regretting every choice that had led her here. Ill pass. Gravel mock-gasped. Unbelievable. A former high-ranking corpo officer, and yet, no sense of competition. Hunter rolled her shoulders, already heading toward the lounge. Less talking, more losing, boulder boy. Gravel shot her a look but followed, tossing one last glance over his shoulder at Sloan. Suit yourself, corpo. Enjoy your thinking time or whatever. She didnt respond. Just leaned back against the console, arms still crossed, her expression cloudy. The door hissed shut behind them. For a long moment, Sloan didnt move. Behind her, the quiet tap-tap of Priests fingers against the console filled the space, the soft flicker of the star maps still glowing on the screen in front of her. She exhaled through her nose, tapping her fingers idly against her arm. Then, without looking, she reached for the protein ration Priest had given her earlier and peeled it open. Chapter 22: Space Opera Private Detective [Veifield Expanse, ~5.6 AU from Gliese 9043] C Year 2749
The rec lounge was barely more than an open space with a few battered chairs, a dented table, and a flickball setup mounted into the bulkhead. There was a billiards table at the corner too, although disassembled. The game flickball itself was simple enoughtwo players, a hovering energy disc, and a goal on either side. The goal moved. The disc moved faster. It was as much reflex as it was strategy, and right now, Gravel was losing. Four-three, Hunter announced, twirling the paddle in her hand. Set point. Gravel scoffed, bouncing the energy disc against his paddle. You realize Im just warming up, right? Uh-huh. He smacked the disc, sending it flying toward the goal. The moment it got close, the goal shifted to the right, just barely dodging it. Hunter grinned. Predictable. She returned the shot at a sharper angle, forcing Gravel to lunge. He caught it just in time, twisting his wrist to send it bouncing off the side wall. The disc wobbled midair before zooming straight toward Hunters goal. She reacted fasttoo fast. Her paddle hit at the wrong angle, sending the disc ricocheting wildly off the ceiling. It shot down toward the floor, where it barely skimmed the edge of the playing field before hovering back into place. Gravel grinned. Still predictable? Hunter rolled her shoulders. Fluke. They reset, both of them gripping their paddles in anticipation. The next serve would decide it. Gravel was about to launch it when the comm crackled. Fangs voice cut through, urgent and sharp. We might have a problem. Gravel groaned, lowering his paddle. Yeah, so do I. One point down, and youre killing my momentum. Fang ignored him. Old pop, get on sensors. I think were being followed. And by think, I mean I can see them. Hunter and Gravel exchanged looks before setting their paddles down. Hunter sighed. And here I was, about to win. Gravel scoffed, already heading for the door. You wish. He then lowered this voice, muttering to himself. Thats twice today alone. Cant have me some flickball in peace. As they stepped out, Priests voice came through comms, calm but focused. Confirming now. Keep the ship steady. Fang didnt respond right away, which meant she was already scanning. Gravel tapped his comm. You sure youre not just paranoid? Not in the best headspace, maybe? Fangs voice came back fast. Boss, I know what a damn ship looks like when its tailing us. Her voice was venomous. That was enough to shut him up. By the time Gravel and Hunter reached the bridge, Priest was already working the sensors, his visor flickering with data streams. Fang sat in the pilots chair, fingers flying over the controls as she adjusted their trajectory. The Black Fang cruised steady, nothing overtly aggressive, but there was tension in the air. Talk to me, Gravel said, stepping up behind Priest. Priest didnt look up. Unidentified vessel, keeping distance but matching course. He expanded the scan results on the main display. A faint blip trailed them, just far enough to stay outside optimal sensor range. No active weapon signatures, but theyre not broadcasting any identifiers either. Hunter leaned against the back of a chair, arms crossed. Could just be another ship heading the same way. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Fang let out a sharp breath. No way. They adjusted course when we did. Theyre tracking us. Gravel narrowed his eyes at the display. The ship wasnt closing inyetbut it wasnt veering off either. Sloans voice came from behind them. If they were Republic, theyd be more direct. Gravel turned. He hadnt even heard her come in. She was watching the screen, arms folded. You have a point. Hunter tilted her head. So, not the Republic. McPherson, then? Maybe even Strokas. Strokas had had a bounty on Hunter for 14 years. Never caught her. Sloan was about to say something but stopped as soon as she opened her mouth. Priest cut in. Whoever they are, theyre careful. No hails, no warnings, just sitting in our wake. Fang drummed her fingers against the console. I dont like this. If theyre waiting for us to land before making a move, were walking into something. Gravel cracked his knuckles. Then lets not let them dictate the pace. He turned to Fang. Can you lose them? Fangs lips pressed into a thin line. If theyre half-decent pilots? No. She tapped the controls, pulling up an expanded star map. But I can make it really damn annoying to follow us. Gravel grinned. Thats what I like to hear. Priest leaned back slightly, still watching the screen. Lets make this a controlled detour. If they react, well know what they want. Hunter exhaled. And if they dont react? Sloan finally spoke, quiet but firm. Then we have to assume theyre playing a longer game. That killed whatever small bit of humor was left in the room. Fangs fingers hovered over the controls. Im making the turn. The ship rumbled slightly as she adjusted their heading, cutting a sharp angle toward The Veifield Expansea dense asteroid cluster known for its strange, shifting formations. Unlike typical asteroid belts, the Expanses debris wasnt static. Weak gravitational anomalies caused by long-dead celestial bodies sent chunks of rock drifting in unpredictable patterns, a nightmare to navigate without precise calculations. Fang kept their trajectory smooth, threading them through the outer edges where the motion was less erratic. It wasnt a full burn, nothing that screamed panic, but it was enough to see if their tail would flinch. A tense silence settled as everyone watched the sensors. The trailing blip hesitated for a momentthen adjusted. Still following. Fangs grip tightened. Yeah. Thats what I thought. Gravels grin faded. Better not be Garnash. I hate that guy. Priests visor flickered as he pulled up deeper scans, running their pursuers readings through the Black Fangs limited database. Ships still too far for a full profile. No clear ID. He glanced toward Fang. Take us through the denser part of the field. No sudden burstsgradual acceleration. Fang nodded, shifting power to maneuvering thrusters as she guided the Black Fang deeper into the asteroid cluster. The ship rumbled under the strain, but the movement was smooth, careful. The blip followed. Sloans voice was measured. If they wanted to take us out, they couldve made a move already. Gravel sighed. Could be someone just looking for the right moment. Could be someone waiting to see if we panic. Could be someone wanting to deliver me the result of the flickball final match in person. Hunter tapped her fingers against the edge of the console. And what if its not a bounty hunter? That made Gravel pause. . . . Then Im really gonna hate whatever comes next. Priest didnt look up. Lets find out. He switched their long-range comms to an open frequency. Static hummed through the speakers. Priest spoke evenly. Unknown vessel. Youve been shadowing us long enough. Identify yourself. Silence. Then, finally, a voice crackled through the comms. Smooth. Collected. And entirely unfamiliar. Now, now. No need for hostilities. I was just wondering how long youd take to notice. He spoke the Intergalactic Space Language (ISL) in an accent that accentuated each syllable with a deliberate crispness, the kind that suggested he wasnt just fluenthe was practiced. Gravels brow furrowed. Oh, great. One of those guys. Fang manually muted the comm for a second, muttering, Sounds like someone who likes hearing themselves speak. She unmuted and adjusted the comm settings. Youre awfully chatty for someone creeping up on us. The voice chuckled. Creeping? Nuh-uh. I prefer the term observing. Priest remained expressionless. We dont like being observed. This galaxys gotten strict rules on spaceship privacy, just so you know. Fifty thousand ducats for every offense, Gravel said. A brief pause. Then, the voice dropped its playful edge, turning just a shade more serious. Ill make this simple, the stranger said. You have something that doesnt belong to you. And Im here to collect. Sloan whispered, Thats how McPherson officers phrase retrieval orders. Chapter 23: Space Opera Negotiation Gravel leaned forward, crossing his arms, and laughed. The kind one would do when laughing at their own joke. Listen here, buddy, I dont know what kind of amateur hour operation youre running, but Ill tell you right nowyouve got the wrong ship. Were just humble, humble traders. Honest workers. Salt-of-the-stars types. Our cargo hold? Nothing but ethically sourced mining equipment, legally obtained from our supplier, Kestris-7 Corp. And you know what? Id love to share the paperwork, butoh noour manifest records got wiped in a tragic, unforeseeable data malfunction caused by he snapped his fingers, solar interference. Hunter slowly turned her head, staring at him. Priest, already working the console, didnt look up. You the voice from the other side was immediately interrupted. Gravel continued. Now, if youre thinking, Wow, thats convenient, youd be right! But if you had access to the latest Stellar Safety Journal, which is real and highly-respected by the way, youd know that solar anomalies wipe flight records all the time. Its an epidemic. Terrible, really. You should be thanking us for spreading awareness. The comm stayed silent. Gravel smirked, pleased with himself. Then the voice came through. Shut the fuck up now. Wow. And I thought I was the rude one, Gravel said. Hunter sighed into her hand. While Gravels nonsense filled the airwaves, Sloan leaned closer to Priest, keeping her voice low. Did he come for that drive you have? Most likely, Priest replied. How in the void does he know? Priest didnt answer, instead initiated a quiet scan across open channels. He wasnt picking up any external data leaks, no transmissions flagged with their ships identifier. Only then did he say, He shouldnt. Sloan narrowed her eyes. Then do you trust that associate of yours, Vanje, to keep his mouth shut? Priests visor whitened for a second as he processed that. Then, casually, No. Sloan let out a slow breath. Gravel was still going. And in conclusion, good sir, Id recommend you get your scanner checked, because whoever told you we have something you want was clearly playing a prank on you, and personally, Id be pissed. The stranger ignored him completely. Im looking for Vanje. I know you know him, Gravel. The crew turned as one, staring at Gravel. Gravel, for his part, blinked. Huh. A half-second later, he composed himself, straightening his jacket and smirking. Well, well, well. Look at that. Didnt know I had fans. He tapped his fingers against the console. Am I trending? Hot Search list? Number one, maybe? No, dont tell meI wanna be surprised. Hunter muttered, Why are you like this? The voice on the other end did not share Gravels amusement. Where. Is. Vanje. Gravel waved a hand. Hey, hey, well get there. I just need to know. Am I above or below Captain Stellars engagement scandal? Because if Im losing to that hack, Im gonna be real disappointed in this galaxy. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Priest sighed. Gravel, focus. Gravel leaned back in his seat, propping his boots up on the console like they werent currently being hunted by an unknown party. Alright, fine. You wanna talk Vanje? Lets talk Vanje. What exactly does that slippery bastard owe you? Credits? A ship? A sabertooth tiger? The strangers voice sharpened. Thats between me and him. Gravel clapped his hands. Oh, see, I love when people say that. So Im supposed to give you info but youre free of that responsibility. Fang, still at the controls, cleared her throat. Uh, boss? Should we maybe stop antagonizing the guy actively charging weapons? Gravel exhaled. Fine, fine. If this is about a bounty, well need to see proof, proper documentation, you know, all the legal nonsense. He paused, then grinned. Oh, wait! Youre not a bounty hunter, are you? No official tags, no IDs . . . just a guy whos real interested in Vanje. Now, thats interesting. The strangers voice remained calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it now. Im told youre real chatty. The reputations right. So let me say this in a way that gets into your head. A brief pause. Then Three McPherson ships are looking for you right now. Silence. Hunters head snapped toward Priest, who was already pulling up their sensor readouts. A few seconds later, his visor flickered with new data. Hes not bluffing, he muttered. Fangs fingers flew over the console. Confirmingthree heavy-class cruisers, running wide-range sweeps. Not locked onto us yet, but if they tighten their scans, were toast. Three heavy-class cruisers. I have a feeling theyre paying a lot more under-the-table on top of the official bounty, Hunter shrugged. Priest let out a sharp breath. Well have a five-minute window at best before they lock us down. Sloan crossed her arms. Five minutes? Thats generous. Last time I was in a McPherson lockdown zone, they cut off every outbound ship in three. And that was before they upgraded their sensor grids. Gravel took a slow breath, tapping his fingers against his armrest. Right. So. He cleared his throat. When you say looking for us The stranger cut in. I mean exactly that. Unless you feel like finding out how fast McPherson can ground you and drag your crew in, youll want to listen. Gravel leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. Shouldve opened with this, man. Then what? You just happen to be our guardian angel, swooping in with a deal? You can think of it that way. There was something almost amused in the strangers tone now. Dont ask questions, and Ill give you my firepower. You get rid of my problem, I help you avoid yours. Gravel scoffed, leaning back again. I dunno, see, I have so many questions. Hunter shot him a sharp look. Not now, brick-for-brains. Priests visor flashed red. One of the McPherson ships just changed vector. They are running an active ping. Gravel rubbed his temple. Great. Love that for us. He exhaled and turned his attention back to the comm. Alright, pal, lets say for a hypothetical second that were interested. Whats the catch? The strangers reply was immediate. No catch. You tell me where Vanje is. Thats it. Gravel squinted at the comms panel. Yeah. See, the thing about that isI dont like how fast you answered. The stranger chuckled. Take it or leave it, Captain. Fang turned in her seat, looking at Gravel. Boss, were on a clock. Gravel exhaled through his nose. Hate this. He then groaned, dragging a hand down his face before pointing at the comms panel. Fine. You got yourself a dealconditionally. He jabbed a finger toward the speaker. Im shooting you down too if youre screwing me. Before unmuting, he turned to the others and muttered, This is why I hate dealing with professionals. Not a Chapter, But! Hey. So if youve read so far, Im guessing you like the humor presented in this book. Youre in luck! Because I have another book that amplifies the same humor tenfold! People have said its a lot of fun, chaotic fun. So why dont you hop on and give it a try? Id appreciate it a lot! Here it is:
I am a Table [A LitRPG Progression Story] The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. When an ordinary man awakens in a strange new world, he expects the usual isekai treatmentpowerful abilities, legendary weapons, maybe even a heros destiny. Instead, he finds himself in the most prestigious role imaginable. A wooden table. Featherwood, to be exact, which allows him to become super fast. If he can walk. Stripped of his past memories and blessed with a miserable stat spread (except for an absurdly high Agility score) and a RPG system thats set on screwing him over, he is transported to the Township of Iakesi. With no mouth to speak, no arms to wield a sword, and no skills to aid his survival, his future looks bleak. But when his Status Window appears, he realizes something: He can level up.
Chapter 24: Space Opera Piracy It took another ten seconds until the strangers vessel came into viewa lean, predatory thing, built for speed. Sleek black seems to be this decades trend. Gravel clicked his tongue. Black with streaks of red lining its underbelly, he knew that kind of custom job that wasnt for show but for functionality. The coating meant to scatter sensor readings, while the paint was designed to break visual tracking against the void. A ghost ship in all but name. Lurik-class frame, Gravel said, more to himself than anyone else. Not Republic. Not McPherson. Thats a homebrew job. Hunter raised a brow. So? I think weve established that. So, Gravel leaned in, narrowing his eyes, that model comes from the Rellan Verge. Fang frowned. Thats . . . far. Yeah. The ass-end of the galaxy, where trade routes go to die. That kinda far. Gravel scratched his jaw. Thats an old frontier model, stripped and rebuilt a dozen times over. They dont make em anymore. Hell, they barely made em back then. You only see these in independent systems where people have to build their own damn fleets out of scrap. Wasnt that different from your last vessel, Fang snickered. That thing was wack. Like this one you built is any better, Gravel replied. Back to business. The hells a Verge-runner doing here? The rogue ship remained at a careful distance, close enough to keep pressure on them but far enough that it didnt look like a threat. Heat signatures stable, but the engine outputs got irregular readings. He glanced at Gravel. Ship that old shouldnt be moving this smooth. I mean its not old, Gravel murmured. Not anymore. The strangers voice came through the comm. I have the only ship here capable of scrambling McPhersons target locks long enough for you to make a clean break. You break left, I break right. Ill scramble their long-range targeting. When they recalibrate, you have a thirty-second window to hit full burn and drop off their scope before they compensate. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Then how are you gonna escape? Hunter asked. Three corp ships? Ive handled worse with a busted reactor and half a wing missing. Gravel could imagine the strangers smug face, if that face looked like Gabriel Mog from the movie Space Collars. Sure, play hero. Ill buy it for now. He tapped the comms. Fang, you heard the man. Get ready to run. Fang cracked her knuckles, already shifting power to the thrusters. Been ready. Hope this guys as good as he thinks he is. The stranger said, Now run. The moment he said it, his ship veered. It wasnt just speedit was an artful kind of chaos, a ship moving like it had no mass, twisting and doubling. That seemed to have thrown McPhersons targeting AI into a fit. They were still for a second, not knowing what to do. One of the McPherson ships fired a proximity pulse, trying to force a lock, but the strangers ship slipped through the net like smoke through fingers. A second later, a decoy signal flared in the opposite direction, mimicking an engine burst at full burn. The McPherson sensors hesitated, momentarily splitting their focus between two targets. Just as promised. Hunter let out a low whistle. Thats some next-level bullshit. What the hell is that technology? Anyones got any info on that? Priests visor pulsed with fresh data. Their systems are trying to recalculate, but whatever scrambling tech hes running, its keeping them in a constant feedback loop. He paused. Hes not interfering with our comms. What, you expected him to? Fang asked, adjusting course. Standard move if youre trying to force a negotiation, Priest murmured. Lock down comms, push them to a private line, control the conversation. Gravels fingers tapped against the console. Guess our boy here wants us talking. Too bad we dont have many friends. Their ship soon thread a dangerously tight arc around the nearest asteroid cluster. Steady, Priests voice was stable. One McPherson ship is breaking formation. Not fast enough, Fang said, teeth bared in a grin. Were almost clear. Behind them, the rogue ship was doing a Tango, raw momentum bending to the will of its pilot. One of the McPherson vessels twisted in pursuit, but its bulk couldnt match the rogue ships movements. Then the strangers voice cut through on a private line. Have fun. Drop your coordinates from here. And dont even think about trying to outrun me. The Black Fang was already deep into the void, slipping from McPhersons grasp. The rogue ship remained a shadow at their backs. Gravel tapped at the scanner logs, brow furrowing. Huh. Chapter 25: Space Opera Personality Test The Expanse was like a city, if you put a 20-year-old in charge of city infrastructure and gave them a budget of three synth flickberry chips and a freeze-o-cream. Everything looked slapped together, and around some of the rocks were streaks of stardust that form traces looking like melted cream scattered on the ground, licked at random places. Adjust vector four degrees starboard, Priest instructed as he monitored the shifting gravitational anomalies. Thatll put us in a gap between the next drift cycle. Yeah, yeah, already saw it, Fang muttered, nudging the Black Fang into the opening. A jagged mass of rock the size of a city block tumbled past where they had been a second earlier. Casual reminder, Hunter drawled from the side, if we hit something, we dont explode instantly. First, we depressurize. Then we freeze. Then we die. Not helping, Priest and Fang said in unison. The ship banked at a sharp degree to avoid another spiraling chunk of debris. Fangs fingers tightened on the controls, jaw set as she read the patterns, finding the gaps before they opened. The Black Fang vibrated. Smaller fragments scraped the deflector shields, sending a cascade of sparks skittering across the viewport. Gravel called out to the back, Sloan. Come out and see this exquisite meteor shower. Priest said, Fang. Lets not push our luck. Fang didnt take her eyes off the controls. I am being careful. Alright, Gravel leaned back in his chair with another mock beer in his hand. Since were in the middle of an asteroid ballet and no ones getting off the stage anytime soon, might as well unravel the mystery about the drive. Come over, Priest. Priests walked over, visor pulsating as he keyed into the console. Strings of fragmented text scrolled past the main display, and the data started to take form. The fragmented text resolved into something half-readable, half-glitching between corrupted lines. A few key phrases stood out immediately, blinking in ominous red: PROJECT: VARIANT GENESIS (PHASE 3) SECURITY LEVEL: RED TEST SITE DECOMMISSIONED: INCOMPLETE FINAL TRANSPORT ROUTE: MENDAX-14 PERIMETER / SITE 42-B Phase 3 of this project is in . . . Mendax? Hunter touched her chin. How many phases are there that we know of? See, I told ya we should head to Mendax. Gravel called out to the general direction of the storage room that Sloan had retreated back to. You hear that, corpo? Sloan? Sloan Albrecht? Can you check how far away Mendax-14 is from Mendax-12? Hunter asked Priest. Priest ran another scan through the fragmented data. More corrupted text scrolled past before stabilizing into partially readable entries. Weve got mentions of Phases 1 through 5. No references beyond that, but does not mean they have not gone through. And Mendax-14? Hunter pushed. Priest tapped a few commands, cross-referencing the location. His visor flashed for a second. Mendax-14 is two hours out from Mendax-12 if we ride full speed. It is an official celestial body, mapped, logged, and subject to Republic governancesame civil laws, same trade oversight. But. Gravel raised a brow. Theres a but? Priest nodded at the screen. Site 42-B does not exist. At least, not in any official records. No survey markers, no registered structures, no history of development. Gravel rubbed his temple. Alright, genius. If the site doesnt exist, how the hell are we supposed to get a lead? Hunter leaned forward, bracing her hands on the edge of the console. By boarding the planet, duh. We have active warrants, genius number 2Actually. Gravels face brimmed. Uh-oh. Somebodys got a brand new plan. Hunter looked at Priest, who returned her gaze. She then turned to Gravel. I was joking, you know. Gravels grin widened as he snapped his fingers. We dont go in as us. Fang groaned. Oh no. Oh yes, Gravel said, already standing. See, a couple of wanted fugitives would get flagged the moment we hit the docks, sure. But a crew of respectable, law-abiding professionals? He gestured vaguely. Totally different story. Hunter raised a brow. Or we can board Mendax-12 instead and get information from a distance. You know, like people who dont want to be arrested. Priest, who had been quiet, tapped the console. Rozs capital houses a major Republic data archive. If this Site 42-B ever had transport routes passing through, there might be a record. Roz would be the superpower of Mendax-12, the equivalent of The Atlantian Republic on Earth. Unluckily for us, that archive would probably be one of the only heavily safeguarded places on that planet. What the fuck. Gravel put a hand on his forehead. Why do you always have to ruin my plans with logic? Fine. Whatever. Oi, corpo! He turned to the storage room again. You got any friends left on Mendax-12, or did you burn all your bridges? Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Sloans flat voice came from the storage room. I already said I dont know anyone there. A voice blasted through comms. Guys. The cocky bastard from the Verge caught up to us. Oh, come on. Gravels head snapped up. Fine. Patch him through. The rogue pilots voice came through to Linking Park Array, a comm system embedded in the lounges walls. Gravel heard that the creator of the system was a fan of some archaic Earthling rock band or something. The Array projected his voice in crisp, holographic surround sound. Like he was standing right there among them. You see how those McPherson vessels operate? What a waste of ducats. They likely have pilfered a couple shillings or two during the installment of their lock-in system, because that was shite. He cackled, then the cackle stopped mid-way. His voice deepened, like the grinding of techtonic plates. Now Vanjes whereabouts. Gravel leaned back, throwing his hands up. Alright, hotshot, I get it. You and Vanje have some epic drama. Man hacked your AstroCred wallet, ghosted your deal, broke your heart over a candlelit dinner on Titan. Whatever. Point is, Im not a mind reader. Give me something to work with, or Im just spinning my wheels here. You dont need my name. You just need to tell me where Vanje is. Hunters voice cut in, calm but edged. You happen to have any experience with landing on Mendax-12 or 14? There was a pause. Whats this about? Before Gravel could spin up another smartass response, Hunter cut in, her voice smooth but firm. Its about a mutual opportunity. We have a big problem, and we need to be on Mendax-12. I figured Vanjes worth that much to you. Gravel turned to Hunter, opened his mouth, and exaggeratedly formed silent words: Were not selling Vanje out. Hunter didnt look at him. She kept her voice even. You know anything about the Republic archive? The rogue pilot scoffed. He paused for a few secondstoo longthen replied. Not exactly the best-kept secret. Its open-access, technically. Gravel raised a brow. Technically? The Republic archives operate under a local storage model. Informations not centralized. Some planetary archives only store data relevant to their own jurisdiction. So, if you want records from Mendax-12, you have to be on Mendax-12. Publicly accessible, sure, but outdated. Tend to lag about fifty years unless you know the right people. Happy? Hunter let out a long hmm. Vanje, The stranger repeated. Hunter barely hesitated before saying, Last I heard, he was Gravel cut in. Really into old Haret jazz. Crazy, right? Whole synth fusion craze going on, and hes out there obsessing over saxophones. I mean, come on. There was a beat of silence. Then a thrum of energy vibrated through the Black Fangs hull. Priests visor pulsed red. Hes heating weapons. What in the voids gate, Captain? Youre trying to get us killed to save some acquaintance? Hunters eyes widened as she sprung from her seat. Gravel threw up his hands. Whoa, hey, hey, you gonna fire on us over jazz? A low, resonant hum vibrated through the Black Fangs frame. It grew louder. Louder. Louder. The Black Fangs HUD flared crimson with proximity alerts. A pulsating heat signature spiked on the rear sensors. The shield display stuttered. This kind of power didnt just burnit warped space with a gravitational pull of its own, the kind that made lesser ships hulls groan under the weight. The rogue pilots tone remained eerily casual. Youve got five seconds before I introduce you to an Ulbra-K42 disruptor. Fang, still at the console, muttered, That thingll chew through our shield reserves like a blender through protein paste. We can only take two hits; three max. Boss? Gravels expression hardened for a moment before he met Hunters eyes. Not speaking as Captain here. But youve always delegated decisions like these to me. Why the doubt? Youre seriously asking why? She squinted her eyes. Youve known Vanje for twenty years. We havent. Hes not our friend. Trust me on this. The growl of the disruptor rattled through the Black Fangs frame. Fang hovered over evasive maneuvers and slammed her palm against the automated weapon panel. The ships turrets whirred to life. Take over manual turret controls, Hunter, Gravel whispered. You said to trust you. Safety measures. She hesitated for half a second. You havent gotten us killed yet. Then burst into a run. Gravel shouted into comms. Come. Shoot at us. Im dying to test out this shield system I shelled out so many ducats for. Go ahead. Shoot. Another second. Then another. Five seconds, huh? Gravel checked an imaginary watch on his wrist, tapping it hard enough for the sound to travel over comms. That was, what, three seconds ago? Shouldnt we be dead by now? Silence. Gravels fingers curled against the armrest. Four? Five? Ah, man, thats weird. Its almost like He raised his hands, snapping his fingers, but those slightly shaking fingers failed to make a sound. He inhaled and snapped them again. Youre full of shit. The growl of the disruptor stayed just under the threshold of firing for another second. Nothing. Then, through the comms, a single clap. Then another. You got me, Captain. The rogue pilots tone shifted, easy and amused. I was testing you. Figured if you cracked under pressure, wellwrong answer. A pause. Any friend of Vanje is a friend of mine. Snitches? Not. Fang let out a low breath. You piece of shit. Hunter, who had only just made it to the turret controls, groaned and slammed her fist against the console. Priest nodded at Gravel. Good hunch again, Captain. Sloan, who had finally emerged from the storage room, stared blankly at Priest. A hunch? Thats how you do things now? Gravel chuckled on comms. I trust youre a pro, pal. Pros dont make those mistakes. With the comms jamming? Priest asked. And the weapons ping, Gravel replied. Verge-runner dude didnt even pretend to lock onto us. The scanners wouldve thrown a fit. You got style, Captain, the stranger let out a chuckle in return. That weapon was such an overkill, mate, Gravel huffed. Fang ran both hands down her face. We almost died over this guys personality test. I guess this is still about Vanje, huh? Gravel asked. Well talk on the way to Mendax-12, the stranger replied, with a smirk you could hear through the transmission. The names Xaxx. With two Xs. Chapter 26: Space Opera Iced Latte (Gravel/Priest) Gravel, another drink on hand, walked through the corridor lined with reinforced doorsmanual locks only. On his other hand was a small, circular holo-projector, the kind meant for private, short-range comms. He flicked it on with a tap of his thumb, and after a brief static flicker, Xaxxs image materialized above the device. Xaxx was reclined, one boot propped against the edge of his seat. His jacket was slung over the chair behind him, and a purple-tinted glow from his ships console cast angular shadows on his metal mask. The edges of the mask were etched with geometric patterns, with narrow eye slits showing just enough of his eyesblack irises with no white. and thats how I left the Verge. He finished his sentence. Why were they talking on private comms? Nobody else wanted to entertain talking to Xaxx for more than ten minutes. Gravel stared at him, then took a long, slow sip from his own drink. Uh-huh. So just to recap, your plan was . . . what? Screw over the warlord Whats-her-name, set fire to your old crews hangout, and then joyride your way across the stars? Xaxx smirked. Not my old crew. They were never my crew. Just a bunch of scavengers with delusions of grandeur. He stretched. And technically, she wasnt a warlord. More of a . . . self-proclaimed Trade Baron. Gravel clicked his tongue. So a pirate. Xaxx raised his glass in a mock toast. Exactly. As Gravel walked past Hunter, she gave him a look and asked, Did the guy tell you why he wanted to find Vanje? Gravel stopped. Oh yeah. I was too busy thinking about where to get a replica of that mask hes wearing. Where are you going? Checking in on Sloan. She hasnt tried to mingle much. The folding of the wrinkles on his head, which was non-existent a second ago, was almost comical. What did you expect her to do? Teach Fang how to file corporate tax evasion reports? Hunter shot him a dry look. I dont know. I want her to act like shes part of the crew instead of a loaned-out consultant counting the days until she can ditch us. Shes not part of the crew. You realize that, right? A moment of silence. Im still here, Xaxx voice rang over comms. Gravel replied, So my man, what exactly is the reason you want to look for that shady guy? Hunter had already walked away. Were all shady people here, Captain. Anyway . . . Xaxx swirled his drink, watching the liquid catch the dim light from his console. He knows how to crack things open. Of course. What else is the guy useful for? He cant play flickball. He tapped a gloved finger against his knee. If I dont get to him, a lot of people are gonna have a bad day. Gravel exhaled through his nose. You mean youre gonna have a bad day. Xaxx smirked, but it didnt quite reach his eyes. Me and a lot of people. Gravel studied him for a second, squinting, squinting harder. Then sighed and dragged a hand down his face. Yeah, okay. I hate how much I kind of get that. *** The glow of the instrument panels cast soft, shifting hues over the consoles inside the cockpit. Bathed in the ethereal glow of azure, emerald, and amber lights, the cockpit itself looked much more maintained than the common room, even if Gravel had insisted otherwise. Hua Fang had stripped it bare, redesigned it whichever way she preferred, and added random objects in corners, such as a sphere of polished jade dangling from a slender red cord. Her good luck charm. A lone painting of some sort of white bird poised at the edge of a tranquil lake stuck out like a sore thumb. Fang told the crew it was an extinct species of bird on Earththe heron. She never really cared for it, but grew attached to the painting as many of her other memorabilia was mistakenly ejected during a hasty repair job gone wrong. Priest would often catch her staring at it during long, silent stretches of space, and each time she caught him looking, shed come up with hasty explanations as to why she was looking at it. Priest had never responded with anything other than a nod. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Priests visor automatically adjusted to the low light as he stepped in. He didnt say anything. Instead, he just took in the sight of Fang, reclined in her chair with her head tilted back, facing up toward the ceiling, mouth slightly parted. Her arms hung loosely at her sides. An empty caffeine packet lay crumpled near her hand. He couldve deducted she had a heart attack had he not seen this pose a hundred times before. He exhaled quietly and moved to the adjacent console. The chair hissed as he sank into it, fingers already pulling up a document hed labelled as Classified. He figured shed wake up eventually. He just didnt expect it to be that fast. Fang jolted, eyes wild as she sucked in a sharp breath. Ill be better! A beat of silence. Priest finished keying in a system command before glancing at her. Fang. How long since you last slept? Before this. She blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear her head, and wiped at her face. Iuh She paused, looking at the crumpled caffeine packet, grabbing it and shoving it into her pocket. I dont know. I think . . . I took a nap earlier? When? Fang squinted at the console. Couple of hours? We were making a run for our lives a couple of hours ago, Fang. Try twenty-six. Fang groaned, running both hands through her messy hair. Okay, but Ive been drinking coffee, so it balances out. And the ships on auto anyway. Okay. There have been millions of studies about the side effects of caffeine, just so you know. Its fine. Tasty with plenty of side effects? It reminds me of home. She grinned as she put on her goggles. Their augmented display synced with the cockpits systems to shield her eyes from the blinding flashes of starlight. Fang never really needed it; it was just to show she was in full concentration mode. Fang fidgeted, her fingers tapping rhythmically against her thigh. She started to speak, paused, and then stayed silent. Priests visor glitched faintly as he noticed her unease. He said nothing. Fang stirred again, her jaw tightening as if wrestling with her words. Hey, old pop, do you know if She cut herself off, and Priest caught her feet rubbing against one another again. The young woman hadnt made it a habit to hide her nervous tics, despite him reminding her once. Once had never been enough to get anything through her head. Yet, Priest was the least frustrated with her out of anyone else in this crew. She reminded him of the circle of friends hed had during his younger days, and whenever he found himself in a certain mood, he would catch himself talking to her before realizing hed come to her himself. We can talk. Well . . . Her hand rubbed on the cuff of her jacket. I dont know where to start, but . . . uh . . . so I have this thing going on, you know, with my boyfriend. And Im sorry Ive let it interfere with my duties. Im really, really sorry. I figured that since, well, you seem wise and all that, uh . . . Then she just stopped. Stopped rubbing her jacket. Stop rubbing her feet together. Stopped talking. He waited. After a moment, Fang shook her head and forced a smile. Actually . . . Never mind. Dont worry about it. Im sure its too silly and childish for you. It isnt. She stared at him for so long it felt like she was invading his personal space, although he was the one showing up unannounced inside her cockpit. She is definitely cut from the same mold as my brother. Priest didnt ask why she was staring. His hands danced around on the console, and she stared at them. Priest guessed it was because she had rarely seen him using all ten fingers. It was true that he didnt need to, since he could interact with his system via haptic signals for most tasks. Typing was just a habit from the old days, and Priest liked the old days. Youre always typing, but you never look like youre running diagnostics, Fang muttered. Priest didnt look up. Right now, I am not. Fang stretched her arms overhead, yawning. Then what are you doing? Tweaking our nav systems? Hacking into McPhersons private banking accounts? He wondered where all the earlier stuttering had gone. Priests fingers didnt pause on the console. Reading the Intergalactic Daily. Fang snorted. Yeah? Whats the headline? Local Idiot Ignores Sleep for Three Days, Shocked When Consequences Arrive. Fang groaned, kicking her feet up on the console next to him. Wow, riveting. Bet its got a whole expose on my caffeine habits, too. Priest finally glanced at her. No, thats in the opinion section. Fang narrowed her eyes at him before smirking. Alright, fine. Keep your secrets. She then turned to the dark void ahead. If I take an actual nap, will you wake me up before we get to Mendax-12? Priests visor dimmed, the equivalent of a slow blink. Yes. She was asleep five minutes later, goggles on. Chapter 27: Space Opera Skywhale [Mendax-12, Tau Serpentis d] C Year 2749
The atmosphere in Mendax-12 felt thicker than on any other planet theyd been in. The air resisted the Black Fangs descent like a viscious bowl of soup, and the ships energy shield normally subdued ember-like glow now flared bright red. Scorched and uneven panels quavered under pressure, save for the sleek Republic-graded plating. Hua Fang was now practically screaming over comms, Hunter! Can you tweak the shields frequency? To which she responded, On it. Hunter was deep in the bowels of the Black Fang, shuffling over the wires snaking across the floor. Meanwhile, Priest was stationed in the main power hub, flipping switches and pulling levers to divert energy from non-essential systems. The long-range sensors went dark first, then came the weapons system. Hunters console beeped, and she glanced at the readout. Shields stabilizing . . . for now. But were running on fumes, Fang. If we hit another pocket of turbulence, were done for. Seems like that old hag of yours needs a bit of an upgrade, Xaxxs voice blasted on comms just as Gravel walked into the cockpit, holo-projector in hand. We were going to, said Gravel. If we werent chased around galaxies like criminals and were able to dock on a half-decent planet. Certainly not one with this kind of atmosphere. Their ship didnt hit another pocket of turbulence. The violent shuddering eased, and Fangs hands sprawled over the consoles, cheek against the heating glass panel, Good girl. Her voice was barely audible to Gravel. Youve done it. This kid can make love to a steel pole. He raised a brow. Congrats, crew. Xaxx was on comms again. Enjoy the view. Ill meet you at Karakoia Anchorage. Dont mistake it with Kakoira Anchorage. Thats on the other side of the ocean. Where the upper layers had been a chaotic, suffocating maelstrom, the world below was a serene, glistening paradise. Soft light emanated from the clouds, and the gentle buoyancy cradled in Black Fang in its arms. A sky of orange and gold. Dancing around the vessel were countless tiny organismssky plankton. These microscopic creatures moved in swirling schools and glowed with a soft, luminous light; a living sea of shimmering particles. Fang propped back up, rested her hands on the controls, and let out a slow breath. Well, she said, her voice tinged with both exhaustion and wonder, that Xaxx guy meant it when he told us to enjoy the view. Then they saw them. Colossal beings twice the size of their vessel moved with a grace that belied their size. They swam through the air, their enormous fins undulating in slow, deliberate motions, sending ripples across the clouds. What in the void are those? Fang asked. Different names for different races, Xaxx said. Humans call them skywhales. We call them He then proceeded to pronounce an intelligible word with an entirely different tone and cadence. Beautiful creatures, Hunter added. Whales dont belong in the sky, pal. This stuff is even weirder than a diamond-skinned sabertooth tiger, Gravel muttered. As the leading great whale opened its cavernous mouth, the glowing light in front of it was promptly sucked into its maw, swallowed whole. We might wanna divert our course. Gravel tapped on Fangs shoulder. I did not have being swallowed by a whale on my AstroBingo card, and Im not about to add it in now. Aye aye Boss, Fang replied. As the vessel descended further, the city of Bortho came to view. Bortho was a city born from necessity rather than innovation, but had become an innovation anyway with buildings kept in place by gravity pillars or literal chains. Nonetheless, not every place could house the kind of diversity one would find in Bortho, where species from all over the galaxy come to barter, hide, or escape. Orderly, contrary to Sloans belief. Heck, local settlers didnt even eradicate the local flora and fauna when they first set foot here. You will need this. Priest came into the cockpit, inside his palm some miniscule, gel-coated capsules.The atmosphere here is thick, so we will have trouble breathing if we do not live here. Tha is what enabled those whales to fly in the first place. Hunter soon followed his steps. There were many versions of such pills on the market, but they worked more or less the same: nanobiotics would travel to the lungs, forming a temporary, microscopic filtration layer over the air sacs. How long will this last again? Gravel asked as he picked up one from Priests hand. You should take one every twelve hours, eighteen hours max. We should have more than enough for two days here. Im not taking them, Fang waved. Are you going to stay on the ship? Priest asked. Fang replied, That. And I hate those things. They always make my mouth taste like Ive been licking a bitterberry. Hunter laughed uncontrollably upon hearing that for some reason. Her laughter vanished as soon as Fang spoke, Dont forget to wear air filtration masks, guys! She rummaged the custom storage compartment underneath the cockpit and pulled out four masks, handing three to the others. Hunter scrunched her face. These are hideous, man. Theyre made of polymer, and have these weird exhaust pipe-thing plugged on the sides. You couldnt have bought a worse-looking mask if you tried. Gravel told me to buy these specifically. They were on sale! Gravel shrugged, raised arms and flat hands. 30% off. Too good to resist. There was a reason they were on sale, Captain. Hunter pouted. Can I not put it on? Unless you wanna breathe in methane and ammonia then youre gonna have to bear with it, lady, Priest replied. Gravel said, Put it on, Hunter. Ill go get the corpo now. Shes gonna die of starvation in there if I dont pull her out of that shithole shes in. Then he left the cockpit. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. *** The Black Fangs hull juddered as it landed on Karakoia Anchorage, one of the many docking stations on Mendax-12. Floating a hundred feet from the sea, the docking bay was a rowdy mess of ships from all corners of the galaxystate-of-the-art model, an entire Republic ship stripped of the Republic logo, and rusted ancient beasts held together by little more than duct tape. Skiffs and cargo drones wove between suspended walkways, leaving behind trails of ionized mist that dissipated into the thick, sulfur-tinged atmosphere. Despite the masks'' supposed deodorizing properties, the stench of sulfur still clung to their nostrilsperhaps another casualty of the discount. It was really only missing the neon lights and some officers in suits to become another Orkash. Dockworkers kept shouting over each other over everything but work-related matter, and a pair of traders were throwing a gliding e-disc to one another near the edge; Borthos favorite pastime. Security here was . . . lax, to say the least. A couple of bored-looking guards in mismatched armor greeted the Black Fang as it landed, and waved them away as soon as they shelled out some landing fees. Welcome to Karakoia, a guard told them as they walked out from the ramp. No trouble on your end, then no problem on ours. He was a head higher than Gravel, and twice as bulky, as with many other guards here who didnt have an air filtration mask on. Instead, they had gliding membranes connecting their arms to their thighs. When they moved, the membranes flexed and tensed like living fabric. That would be how one tells the natives of Mendax-12 from others. The moment Gravel stepped off the ramp, he launched himself into the sky. His boots barely grazed the ground before he bounced up again, practically floating midair. He took another step; rising above others, waving his hand at Hunter until she looked at him with a deeply troubled stare. What are you doing? She asked. Im moonwalking. Get it? Like walking toward the moon? His grin was in sync with her sigh. Hunter said, Its like this guys dead set on being the pinnacle of the clown archetype. Put more artificial weight in your boots. Priest said as his mechanical arm sizzled with the extra weight just added to them. Absolutely not. He kicked off another surface, flipping midair before landingonly to rebound again. Youre gonna get stuck in a no-fly zone. Hunter said. Fangs gonna be there with me. She wouldve loved this feeling. Gravel turned on his holo-projector, dialing Fang. Kid, you sure you wanna miss this? Come. Nuh-uh. Got things to do. But it does sound fun, Fang replied with half-enthusiasm. The exhaust pipes on the sides of Hunters mask hissed as they filtered the thick air, and she adjusted the straps with a grimace. I look like Im about to weld some ships. Cmon, even Fang didnt complain this much. It suits you well, Gravel shot back. Very industrial chic. Might even get a few grease-stained dockies to hit on you. Hunter rolled her eyes. Im only complaining specifically because you bought them. Say, wheres the tool pouch you always bring with you? Wouldve nailed the mechanic look. Hunter sighed, but didnt reply. With a lazy, deliberate gait, a figure strode toward them from the far end of the docking bay, followed by a slightly smaller silhouette. Even from a distance, Xaxx was hard to misslong, shiny black hair, tall and lanky, his elongated frame draped in layered fabrics that caught the golden light in uneven folds. His deep cerulean coat, dusted with shimmering crushed minerals, billowed as he walked, and a high-collared tunic in rust-red clung to his rawboned form, fastened with irregular clasps that ran diagonally across his torso. Of course, he was still wearing that mask. You running a fashion show now, huh? That why you want to land on Mendax in the first place? Gravel asked. Oh, Ive tons of outfits like this, Xaxx broke into a self-assured laugh. Where did you dock? Gravel asked. Xaxx replied, A couple hundred feet from here. They probably wanted us to stretch our legs about. Hunter looked up at him and let out a breath through her masks exhaust. Youre taller than I thought. And youre shorter. The slight tilt of his head suggested he was grinning behind the mask. But for a human, Id say youre average-height. Youre also pretty flashy. I wear my mood on my sleeve, he revealed the inside of his sleeve, and the color of the minerals inside shifted from teal to gold under the sunlight. Hunter raised a brow. What, your mood is expensive? Xaxxs chuckle was slightly distorted by his masks modulator. Expensive? No. Expressive? Yes. He extended his hand, standard courtesy on both Rellan Verge and Earth. The Rellan people were descendants of Zvevans, so they retained many universal non-verbal cues. You must be Hunter. Flattered you know my name. Hunter returned his handshake. Ive been acquainted with your reputation back when you two were a duo. So youve known us for quite some time. Wheres my handshake then? Asked Gravel with a hint of tease in his voice. Hed finally decided that it was better to put more artificial weight into his boots and undershirt. Hunter extended her hand to him. Here. Take it or leave it. Gravel slapped her hand away. Xaxx squinted his eyes in amusement. The woman beside Xaxx moved like liquid shadow. Without the filter of a mask, her high cheekbones and sharp jawline were basked under the golden sunlight, a stark contrast to her black, bottomless irises that swallowed the light whole. A deep burgundy wrap clung to her frame, cinched at the waist with intricate metallic fastenings that gleamed like embedded gemstones. Her gaze flicked past each of them in quiet assessment, the way a gambler might study a table before deciding where to place their bets. Holy shit, Gravel studied her up and down. Do they deduct your social credits if you dont dress up in Rellan Verge or something? The womans smirk lingered as she dragged her gaze over him once more, before turning to Xaxx. You didnt tell me your friends were so adorable. She spoke with an elegance to her voice, contradicting the pronounced accent that she shared with Xaxx. Gravel didnt miss the tease in her tone, nor did he particularly know what to do with it. At least not at the moment when everyone else was around. Adorable, huh? Priests voice dipped into an unusually deep baritone as he spoke behind Gravel. That is novel. Your friend here has yet to introduce themselves. And mine as well. Behind me, Priest, and . . . Gravel turned back to see Sloan standing a distance from them. She could be easily mistaken as unaccompanied if not for the filtration mask she was also wearing. Corpo. Corpo! Sloan didnt respond, her gaze instead fixed on the floating cityscape beyond the docking bay. Gravel walked towards her. Sloan. That mask doesnt cover your ears! Sloan finally turned, tilting her head. I heard you the first time. And you ignored me. I was looking. At what? She shrugged ever-so-slightly. City planning. This city is held together by inertia. Yeah, because thats what I came to Mendax-12 foran urban development seminar, Gravel scoffed. Lets get going. Youre like a shadow, corpo. If I dont keep an eye on you, youre gonna be off to who-knows-where in a moment. The others had already started walking, and Gravel gestured for Sloan to catch up. Gravel grabbed Hunter by the shoulder and asked, Where we going? To a bar. Xaxx said its on him. And you left me behind? He said it would be funnier if you turned around and realized we were just up and left without you. That I agree. Gravel shook his head. I think Xaxx is a terrible person. Be aware; hes the type to overhear your favorite bottled drink while in queue and order all of them. That reminds me of that time you stole my favorite soda can and dropped it onto an acid pool . . . Actually, lets stop this topic here. He kept his grin plastered on him as they walked out of the dock. Whats that womans name again? Ones walking beside Xaxx? Nastija. Dont do anything that Xaxx can use to blackmail you. I would never. I know how to cover my tracks. Chapter 28: Space Opera McDonalds Yeah, I dont think these guys quite get the concept of a bar, leaning against a dense, alloy-framed wall panel, Gravel spoke. Ggeggo was half-full when they entered. It was one of the finer establishments on the edge of Bortho, serving mainly intergalactic travellers stopping by for a quick refuel. That might have been the reason why its owner opted for the sleek look that was out-of-fashion since the 2600s, when the Republic was pushing for its new brand of corporate vogue. The five of them passed the tables and chairs that were far too big for an Earthly bar. Crafted from a gravimetric alloy, their legs radiated outward in precise, angular formations. They looked more like geometric sculptures than indoor furniture. Their surfaces were nippy and reflected the levitating crystalline orbs that refracted the ambient glow into shifting patterns. These very orbs cast dancing reflections on walls constructed from weathered metal and a type of composite glass that was a combination of self-healing polymer layers and nanolaminated crystalline arrays. No need for anti-grav fields when you have this kind of density, Priest commented as he stepped in, lagging behind. Not sure why youre complaining, Gravvy, Hunter tapped on the surface of a table. This bar is as solid as it comes. At the center of the main floor stood a sprawling liquor bar unlike any Earthly counterpart. Rather than a static counter, a translucent, spherical bar, forged from the same dense alloy, dominated the space. Within its core, streams of exotic liquors glowed with internal luminescence, swirling in patterns dictated by an AI bartender whose voice was as smooth as it was calculated. Holographic menus and interactive tableseach projecting 3D displays of the nights specialswere interwoven with digital murals cycling through images of cosmic vistas and abstract art. Todays specials were Amzarani Anguish and Void Devourer. Come to your seats. Pop-up holograms will show up and you can order from there if you feel introverted, Xaxx flashed a spiffy smile at the Black Fang crew before he and Nastija headed to the bar. This setup looks a lot more like a restaurant than a bar, Gravel shrugged. But oh well. Im not ordering from an AI bartender. How is it any different from scrolling through a pop-up holo at your table? You go, Hunter nodded once. Ill go ask the bartender if they serve anything in a can. Shed already walked ahead as she spoke. Of course she is. He muttered, turning to Priest and Sloan. Vying for the world record for the highest number of trash cans collected from different planets. Guess its just us three. Who wants to see if their holo-menu looks anything like McDonalds? McDonalds had been running for nearly a millennium, and had become one of the longest-running chains on Earth, and was the first Earthly food brand to appear on the Republic Space Station. It received stellar reviews. They made their way to an empty table, sitting an equal distance from each other. As the octagonal holo-menu showed up, they flipped the pages around. Gravel swiped the menu and it gyrated, landing on Ironfang Stout. A thick, dark drink with a metallic aftertaste, brewed from the Baragaard grain, he read aloud. Ive never heard of Baragaard. Lets try it. He said without any regard for his self-imposed abstention from drinking. If its a local grain, its probably high-density grain. You will feel heavy, Priest warned as he ordered a Singularity Shot. His menu screen read DO NOT TRY MORE THAN ONE SIP. His drink would come in a tiny black vial, brought to him by a waiter robot hovering inches above the floor using a combination of magnetic tethers and microthrusters. I like it when drinks sit in my stomach like a rock, Gravel replied. He did not enjoy the Ironfang Stout. Sloan stared blankly at the screen, lazily flipping the pages and finally settled on Water. Cmon, Sloan. Nobody orders water in a bar. Gravel leaned closer to her. Sloan didnt look up as she tapped the confirmation button. I just did. Gravel groaned. Youre unbelievable. Sloans personal holo-phone flickered to life with a discreet notification. The message was from Priest. Redshift Rush? You used to order that back in Kestris. She blinked at the message, momentarily caught off guard. Then she rememberedshed actually given him her personal contact not that long ago. She responded, her neural interface picking up the thought as smoothly as if she had typed it herself. Newest McPherson tech had allowed neural transmission of texts without needing a finger. My tastes have matured. Im not into drinks that are more sugar than alcohol anymore. Priest moved his fingers under the table. Ill pay for it. Do you really not want one? Sloan blinked three more times. The words felt casual, but Priest never said anything without intent. Was he implying something? It was possiblelikely, eventhat hed guessed. That all her credit accounts on Kestris had been frozen. Im fine with water. She replied. Priest stopped texting. Gravel was already breaking his abstention vow the second time with the even darker Void Devourer, whining about how Hunter left him to scour the trash for drink cans. The drink smelled like burnt-out reactor mixed with the stale musk of a bar floor at closing time, tasted like licking a corroded battery, and clung to his throat like tar. Still markedly better than the Ironfang Stout. It was a minute later that Nastija returned with a measured stride. She slid into the seat next to Sloan, glancing briefly at Gravels drink before shifting her gaze to the holo-menu. Gravel leaned back in his chair, tilting his glass. Wheres Xaxx? Where do you think? She flicked through the menus options. Gravel made a face. Ugh, dont make me guess. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Hes at the bar, she said, finally settling on a selection. I think hed stay there for a while. He took a bounty quest from the officer, talking trade routes with the bartender, then somehow segued into a theory about supply chain disruptions in the Outer Belts. Didnt think he would be the type . . . Wait, what did you say? His eyes widened. Hes cooking up some conspiracy theories about the Outer Belts. Nastijas lips curled ever so slightly as she rested her chin on her hand. No; before that. He talked trade routes with the bartender? She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. Before that . . . Her smirk widened. He took a bounty quest from an officer? Gravel sat up straighter. Yeah, that. From an officer? You mean, one in this bar? Everything they do on Mendax is local. I mean everything. Youre gonna need a local carrier card to connect to their bounty network. She tapped twice on her wristband, and a faint holo-interface flickered to life above her arm, displaying a bounty registry. The list scrolled in real-time, each entry updating with new contracts, fluctuating rewards, and status indicators showing whether a job was Open, Contested, or already Closed. Open jobs were up for grabs, while contested ones had multiple claimants, with payouts only going to those who met the missions completion requirements. Some jobs showed priority tags, meaning only select bounty hunters or teams that had certain qualifications. Others had quota-based completions, where a limited number of hunters could split the reward if they met certain objectives before the contract closed. Some listings were direct hires, while others were open calls that anyone with the right credentials could accept. Gravel was more than familiar with this. The interface of that bounty registry looked less than intuitive than cross-planetary posting sites if bounty hunters were to take on publicly-offered jobs, but it was effectively the same system. Nastija kept scrolling, and Gravels eyes scanned the bounty registry with bored indifference, until one listing caught his attention. Thirty-three million ducats. The reward was fairmedium-high risk, medium-high reward. The target: a poacher syndicate operating on the outer fringes of a protected wilderness on Mendax, an uncharted section of the planet. The syndicate had been illicitly harvesting rare fauna from a region known for its volatile terrainforests interspersed with deep ravines and bioluminescent caverns. The natural environment was untamed, perfect for seeking shelter or setting traps, but deadly for anyone unprepared. The entry had a Contested tag, but there were no priority requirements or specialized qualifications that he could spot just yet. It was up to each hunter to handle their own logistics, but the reward still stood strong enough to attract competition. Can we have a better look? Gravel asked. Yeah, as soon as you get your hands on the local carrier card. Nastijas smirk practically turned into a roguish grin. Gravels face softened into a grin, his eyes wide and filled with exaggerated pleading. He leaned slightly forward, hands clasped together. Cmon, Nastija, just one scan? Were practically best buds now after that drink! You cant leave me hanging like this. Well, since you have asked so nicely, she said, tapping her wristband again and making a show of considering it. Gravels grin grew wider, leaning even more in her direction, his expression like a puppy waiting for a treat. Youre the best. They turned on local transmission on their wristbands, and Nastija sent over the scan of the screen and all details. Gravel tapped the listing for more details. Something caught his eye near the bottom of the listingProof of Qualification Needed: Prior Experience in Tactical Engagements with Dangerous Wildlife. Gravel paused. No one in the crew had that on file. It wasnt that they didnt have the skillsGravel himself had been in a handful of skirmishes involving wildlife (Sabertooth Tigers, anyone?), Priest had run enough logistics to know how to get out of tricky situations, and Fang had once hacked her way out of a deadly ambush with nothing but quick wits and a piece of shrapnel. But none of them had sufficient official documentationthe Proof of Achievement Certificates or Combat Endorsement Reports that were required to validate their expertise. And this was one area where Fang couldnt just waltz in, flaunt her PhD in Data Science, and get a stamp of approval. When Gravel was younger, he shouldve known better than to neglect securing those entry validations. Hed once even been advised by a fellow hunter to grease the palms of the registrar, but he hadnt taken the hint. And the time he did try to submit a request for a certification was shot down when they demanded impossible proofWhere are your battle scars? the examiner had asked, before rejecting the application because of a single insignificant injury from a past skirmish that had already healed over. The worst part was that the data on half of their previous hunts had been wiped in a system error after a database corruption. It was never updated. The more he thought about it, the more it irritated him. Priest, with all his experience and sharp mind, could have easily racked up a mountain of endorsements and certificates, but hed purposely avoided it. In fact, hed kept a perfect clean slate in official registries. Hunter had the most official records, but they werent exactly impressive. A Republic army conscript, she had a few notable actions under her belt, like a successful evacuation operation during a border skirmish, but nothing that would really stand out. The armys structure wasnt the best for personal recognition. Gravel turned off the projection from his wristband. Hed need to discuss this with the team later. He said to Nastija, So, since youve been such a good sport, what do I owe you for that little favor? Oh, you dont owe me anything, she replied, her voice smooth. I just like helping out the lost and desperate. Lost. Debatable. Desperate? Thats a little bit of a strong word, he replied. But you wouldnt say no to some guidance, would you, big guy? Gravel raised an eyebrow, his lips parted into a small grin. Guidance, huh? Youre playing the role of the wise, all-knowing guide now? He leaned back in his chair, casually folding his arms. "Ill admit, Im intrigued. But you better be careful, because I dont make it easy on people offering guidance. Nastijas voice dropped to a sweeter pitch. Oh, Im sure youre a challenge. I like small, cute challenges. She lingered in the moment, letting her gaze slide over him, a deliberate flash of amusement dancing in her expression before she straightened up and stepped back. Priest keyed a command into his wrist device and started reading the Intergalactic Daily. Nastijas wristband pinged. With a sigh, she stood. I will have to bring Xaxx here now, if youd excuse me. He ran off to another bar across the street. With a smirk, she stood up, giving Gravel a last lingering look. Dont have too much fun without me. Not hard when Im sitting between two rocks, replied Gravel while smirking at Sloan. After Nastija left, Sloan spoke, her gaze at the central bar almost seemed too deliberate. She looks like shes humoring you. Gravels grin hadnt left him. Oh yeah? You think you can tell? I have a good track record. Well? What can you tell from looking at her? Overly decorative. Sloans finger tapped against the edge of her glass of water. Gravel raised an eyebrow. I know you like to judge, corpo, but I didnt know you do it out loud. Youre loud about liking it. She took a sip of the water. Arent you trying to find info on something? When are you starting? Well, were in a bar, for starters. Xaxx said its on him, so why should we refuse? Live a little, corpo. She gave him a slow, unimpressed blink. I live just fine, thanks. Just reminding you that youve got two days and a half at most on this planet. If I want to be micro-managed Id work under an actual corpo, Sloan. He smirked. Sloans fingers curled. She didnt say anything for a couple seconds. Gravel held himself back from casually throwing hit a nerve, corpo? at her, and just ordered her a drink from the holo-menu. The bar said this ones on the house. Fancy an Ironfang Stout? Sloan rolled her eyes, but when the robot brought her her drinka glass of Nebula Mist, neutral-tasting with hints of local herbsshe took it. It happened to be one of her favorites. Chapter 29: Space Opera Trash Collector Hunter returned later with a bulging bag of cans. Many of them were pristine and glinting under the bedimmed bar lights, but the ones at the top looked like theyd barely escaped a recycling compactor. She dropped the whole thing onto the table with a heavy clank. Gravel raised an eyebrow. Thats a hell of a haul. You sure you didnt rob a vending machine on the way? You know I would never be anywhere near a vending machine. She scoffed as she rummaged through the content and pulled out a shimmering black can, its surface almost seeming to drink in the glow. Embossed across the front in the refined, looping script of Bortho was the name Void Devourer, the letters raised in a subtle iridescence that shifted colors depending on the angledeep violet to abyssal blue, like a nebula swirling in the void. Beneath it, intricate filigree wrapped around the edges, framing the emblem of a collapsing star, the drinks signature logo. How do you know which cans are second-hand haul and which are new ones? Sloan asked. Gravel chimed in, She doesnt sort them. Shes lazy as hell. Laziness? Nah. Ill sort them if I ever take them out of the bag and into the display cabinet. I call that working smart. Hunter turned the can in her hands, brushing a thumb over the text with satisfaction. Now thisthis is the crown jewel, she said, her grin widening. Limited-edition for an already limited drink, only sold for a single cycle during the festival of the Black Eclipse. They stopped production because someone figured out the glow-in-the-dark ink had trace amounts of something technically toxic. Gravel let out a low whistle. So you looted this from the trash and it might kill you. That about right? Hunter snorted. First of all, I secured it. Secondlook at this thing. Who cares about a little neurotoxin when you have style? She held it up like a trophy. Xaxx strolled up to the table, casually sipping from an identical Void Devourer can. The same shimmering black finish, the same iridescent Bortho scriptonly difference was, his looked fresh out of a vending machine. Condensed droplets of water were dropping from the side of his can. Hunters eyes locked onto it instantly. No. No way. She turned her limited-edition relic over in her hands, sifting to find some hidden marker of authenticity to reveal itself. Butmy dealer said it was discontinued! It was only sold during the Black Eclipse! Xaxx quirked an eyebrow mid-sip. Black Eclipse? Lame name. Doesnt exist. He held up his can. Got this from the vending machine outside. Two ducats. Hunters expression went through a full system crashher mouth opened slightly, brows twitching, eyes darting between her can and his. For a split second, it looked like her soul physically left her body. Then her grip tightened around the can. Gravel took one look at her face and immediately started laughing. Oh, you got played. Hunter slowly placed the can on the table, staring at it like it had personally betrayed her. I paid thirty ducats, she muttered. Then, after a beat, in an even flatter tone. And I thanked him. Hunter shot up so fast her bag of cans nearly toppled over. I knew that guy looked too smug! Im getting my creds back. She pointed at Xaxxs Void Devourer can. Can I have that? Go ahead. She grabbed it and chugged it down. I knew it! Limited editions cannot taste this good! She then stormed toward the exit, muttering curses under her breath. The door slid shut behind her with a sharp hiss. Xaxxs eyes followed her. Once she was fully out of earshot, he casually said, Nah, it really is the limited edition. Just that the dealer had two of those cans. I saw her buy one and know she collects these, so I just wanted to mess with her. Gravel wheezed. Youre actually the best. Sloan, shaking her head, took a sip of her own drink. You are not going to hear the end of it when she finds out. Xaxx shrugged, popping the tab on another can of mass-produced two-ducat beer. Yeah, but itll be so worth it. Glad we think alike, Gravel grinned, raising his own drink in a mock toast. To messing with Hunter. Sloan sighed, saying nothing else. *** The crew had another meeting inside the common room of the Black Fang. Hunter had already tucked her bag of cans away somewhere, likely sorted them with the meticulous care only a true collector could understand. She wasnt bringing up the scam incident, which meant she was either suppressing the humiliation or planning some sort of vengeance in the near future. Gravel wasnt sure if shed found out that Xaxx was pranking her yet. Fang had emerged from the cockpit, stretching and yawning, looking like shed just woken up from a year-long hibernation. Sloan was sitting on the edge, hands folded in front of her, saying nothing. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Gravel, meanwhile, was messing with his wristband, inserting a small metallic chip into the side slot. A faint beep confirmed the connection. Local carrier cards set up, he said, flexing his wrist as if testing it. Should give us network access without setting off any red flags. Priest scrolled through a holo-display. I took the liberty of downloading and analyzing the layout of the archive center. It may contain records on sites like 14-B. He turned the display off, then turned toward Gravel. Can you bring up the job details that you looked over earlier? You really interested? I thought youd be the first to object, Gravel replied. With a flick of his wrist, Gravel pulled up a holo-display above the center table. Lines of text and job details appeared in sharp, luminous font, alongside a rough map overlay. Alright, heres the irresistible investment opportunity, he said, smirking. This poacher syndicates been tearing up local reserves. He pointed toward the name. Hashimoto. Never heard of them, Fang placed both hands over the side of the sofa. Their influence extends continent-wide, but theyre just thatsub-planetary threats. Many in numbers, but the weapons they use are ancient. He zoomed in on the rough inventory list. They favor kinetic weaponsmagnetically accelerated slug throwers, old gauss rifles, and ballistic carbines. Some of the better-funded ones have coilguns, but nothing cutting-edge. The Maxxima-2525 type; fires dense tungsten rounds at hypersonic speeds; rounds of three shots. No plasma weapons, no energy shielding. The worst we might run into are low-grade laser cutters, usually meant for carving up thick hides, but theyd be slow to deploy in combat. Gravel then moved to job details. The payouts solid; see for yourself. More importantly, were talking about putting some real bastards in the ground. They want these three names in particular. He scrolled through the dossier, tapping on three highlighted names. Renji Ox Hashimoto. Kaede Viper Tanaka. Jin Specter Sakamoto. Hunter leaned forward, scanning the details. Sounds simple enough. But is the proof they want gonna be a problem? Gravel waved a hand. If we get the job done and smash the heads of those poachers in first, and then bring back proof, surely they wont ask too many questions. Hunter squinted at him. Sure. Thats what weve always done anyway. But is this gonna interfere too much with our actual mission? Before Gravel could respond, Fang propped an elbow on the table, grinning. Its gonna be fine! she said. Nobodys wasting time docking on this rock just to chase us down for the kind of meager bounty weve got. She gestured vaguely. And weve got no indication that anyone even knows were sniffing around about the drive yet. Just a little side gig, clean and easy. Gravel responded, You look chirpy. Made up with your loverboy? Fang threw her hand into the air. Weve never argued! Gravel leaned back, looking at the others. Alright then. Unless anyones got any actual objections, Id say weve got ourselves a job. He then turned to Sloan, who had not been sitting in the common room, but instead standing near the viewport, her favorite spot since being on the Black Fang. Sloan? Yes? She turned. Can you contribute? You must know something about this Hashimoto syndicate, no? Yeah. Gravel narrowed his eyes. Thats it? Just yeah? Sloan didnt look away, but neither did she answer. He exhaled sharply. Youve been standing there the whole damn time, not saying a word. You planning to contribute, or just gonna keep watching space go by? I dont talk unless I have something to say. Then say something. Sloan finally turned, arms crossed. What do you want me to say? Shes been here for three days, Gravel, Hunter said. You dont have to grill her like that. Asking for something isnt grilling. Shes not some hotshot anymore, she can answer questions without being a diva about it. Sloans jaw tensed. She looked at Hunter for a fraction of a second before snorting. Wow. You know, I gotta say, Im impressed, Gravel. You really do have a gift. Gravels brow twitched. A gift. Yeah. She leaned against the viewport. A real talent for making people thrilled to be on your crew. Hunter sighed. Here we go. Listen, Sloan continued, pushing off the viewport and strolling toward the table. I didnt jump on this ship to hold your hand through every job. You want intel? Fine. Heres something for free: Even Mura blacklisted Hashimoto. They got too dirty even for scum, but some Republic branches love that. Fang let out a low whistle. The Republic? Didnt think they needed to buy off lowlifes like Hashimoto. Sloan shrugged. The Republic is massive. Most of its got strict policies, but there are branches, companies, entire divisions that dont care about ethics as long as theyre getting results. Hashimoto found themselves a niche. Instead of selling their goods to the usual crime rings, theyre funneling them into some black-budget Republic project. Is your source trustworthy? Fang asked again. Your Captain asked for intel, so I gave intel. You can decide whether to trust it or not. Thats actually helpful. Thanks. Do you have a name of the divisions Hashimoto has been dealing with? Gravel asked. I may. She keyed some commands into her wristband. The pages on the holo-screen scrolled by itself as she stared at it. Wow. Thats neural tech, Hunter said in a low voice. Corpo privilege. Fang huffed. Maybe I can liberate her brain. Sloan spoke as if she had not heard what Fang just said, Heres a name. Liu Jiye. Fang shot up from her seat like shed been electrocuted. THATS MY COUSIN! You havent been talking to him, have you? Hunter arched her brow. Shes not even close to him, Gravel chimed in. Im not insane enough to talk to a Republic officer! But . . . but! Fang paced in a tight circle, her hands flitting between adjusting her jacket, running through her windswept hair, and tapping erratically on the side of her wristband like she was inputting some invisible code. Her leg bounced when she stopped, only for her to start pacing again a second later. This is Jiye! Hes the nerd of the family! The guy who got anxiety ordering food at restaurants! Hunter raised an eyebrow, watching her fidget. Fang. What? Fang snapped, still rapidly adjusting the straps on her gloves now. Youre spiraling. Fang stopped, staring at her own hands like theyd betrayed her. . . . Shit. Well, Fangs not gonna help us. She literally has her actual name on the bounty board. That Liu guy knows better than talking with criminals. Gravel shrugged. Good intel nonetheless. We can punch a thing or two out of these Hashimoto scums, and maybe get something substantial that can trace back to the Republic. I have a question, Priest spoke. There we go. Gravel grinned. Wouldnt be a meeting if Priest isnt here to grill us with skepticism and logic. Go on, lets hear it. Priest rested his elbow on the table, fingers tapping idly against his arm. Where exactly are they based? Gravel didnt even hesitate. MmaraI probably butchered the pronunciation. Old mining hub in the middle of the desert, turned into a smugglers paradise after the industry collapsed. Now its a lawless mess crawling with syndicates like Hashimoto. Mainly Hashimoto. Priests eyes flicked toward his display. That makes it easier for us. He swiped a command on his holo-interface, and the rooms central projector flared to life. Lines of classified data scrolled across the screen in stark red text. PROJECT: VARIANT GENESIS (PHASE 2) SECURITY LEVEL: RED A silence fell over the crew as the next lines of data processed. TESTING SITE: MMARA DESERT PROJECT STATUS: ABORTEDRELOCATION IN PROGRESS Gravel exhaled. Well, shit. Chapter 30: Space Opera World Gliding Championship A massive construct of reinforced platinum and graviton anchors, the Karakoia glider docking platform clung to the citys edge. The graviton stabilizers embedded themselves into the walls, vomiting out oscillating energy fields that shimmered with rippling distortions, counteracting the unpredictable air currents. Below the Black Fang, a voice could be heard hollering from the structures below, ones that extended downward like inverted spires. Shock-absorbing pylons, checked! Gravel checked the control panel as he grabbed a glider from the glider rack that stood along the launch deck. Weve got a route down? Priest nodded toward a secondary console, where a map of Borthos transit network flickered into view. Yes. Atmospheric descent corridors wont run for another few hours. Hunter groaned. Not a fan of the gliders. Why the gliders, anyway? She turned to Priest for an answer. Gravel smirked. Oh, you hate them? Youre not the one built like a damn stone pillar. I nearly dropped like a rock last time. You did drop like a rock last time, she retorted. Parachutes will not work on this planet. Thin gravitational pull meant not enough drag, Priest said. That is why Bortho floats. Very easy to thrive up here. Too easy, perhaps. Even the buildings have to be treated with stabilizers, or they start growing their own ecosystems, Gravel added. I read that from the brochure they handed us at the platform. Likewise, powered flight was inefficient at low altitudes because the thick, nutrient-saturated air clogged engines within minutes. But the gliders worked. Each glider pack used micro-thrusters to correct altitude shifts, keeping the descent smooth while allowing for long-range gliding across the vast, empty stretch of mist. The stabilizing effect kept users from spiraling into an uncontrolled drop, but it wasnt a perfect system. One still had to know what they were doingor, at the very least, trust the gliders AI to compensate for their mistakes. Hey! Whered you get that brochure? I want to read it too. I shouldve gotten one. Hunter pouted. Too bad. Gravel shrugged. I knew you wouldve wanted one, so I threw it away. A dockworker came up to the three of them and said, You have clearance. Gravel nodded to him as he shuffled away, stepped back from the console, and adjusted the straps on his gear. Alright. We drop in from the west sector. Glide corridor takes us down over the edge of the desert. Once we clear the air boundary, we head for Mmara. The glide corridor referred to a specific designated flight path optimized for safe atmospheric descent. It was a predetermined route where conditionssuch as air currents, gravity fluctuations, and obstaclesare stable enough for gliders to descend smoothly without being thrown off course. Straying from the path wasnt recommended, but it wasnt a hard ruleno one could really enforce it. Priest cut in, already making for the airlock. We are burning daylight. Hunter followed him onto the docking bridge, Gravel bouncing behind. You think were gonna do better than the last time? She asked him. Gravel replied, Weve come up with actual coordination plans, a Plan B, and a withdrawal plan. Well be fine. She paused for a second. If you say so, Captain. Below them, the thick mist churned, an endless white abyss stretching toward the distant desert. The wind roared past as they dove from the docking platform. Their glider wings snapped open in a synchronized metallic flutter, and the micro-thrusters roared. These are way too loud for civilian use! Gravel shouted. For the first few seconds, everything was white. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. The mist wasnt just dense. It was alive, animated. Cuddling currents rolled in slow, deliberate waves, like a sea of sentient clouds. They dampened sounds, muffling even the rush of wind against their bodies, and befogged the flowing particles of organic matter carried along the currents like dust in a sunbeam. Gravel kept his movements steady, adjusting his glide angle. It took him a few tries until he was able to stay within the designated flight path. We are clear of the platform, Priests voice rang out through comms. Maintain course. The mist broke apart beneath them. Their altimeters adjusted simultaneously, flashing green as the last wisps of fog thinned. The landscape below unfolded before their very eyes. It was boundless. To the west, the ocean stretched farther than the eye could see, its surface dark with almost a metallic sheen, and strangely still beneath the thickened air. It wasnt a true ocean, at least not in the way humans knew it; it was a hyper-dense liquid ecosystem, where strange gelatinous formations drifted just beneath the waves. Directly below them was the endless, rust-colored expanse, its sands shifting in slow, crawling dunes, even slower than the currents of the nearby ocean. Here and there, clusters of blackened spires jutted out from the ground, like skeletal fingers reaching for the sky. Dead coral-like structures, they were, formed from mineralized plant matter left to fossilize over centuries. They angled toward the deserts outer edge, where the ruins of Mmara waited in the distance. Final approach, Priest called. Gravel flexed his grip on the controls. Alright, he muttered. Lets land. Their landing was weightless. They landed adjacent to a forest in front of the desert called MVila. These trees are wack, Gravel said. Why does everything on this planet have to move creepily slowly? They were tall, unnaturally thin, their trunks extending in long, reed-like segments that swayed, even without wind. Priest zoomed in on his scanner. Its alive in a way most forests arent. Self-contained, self-sustaining. The plant life didnt just take from the soilit grew from the air, cycling nutrients that never reach the ground. Wait. Gravel turned back. You know where Hunter is A loud thud and a grunt of pain cut through the comms, followed by the distinct crunch of someone eating dirt. Gravel turned just in time to see Hunter sprawled flat on the ground, limbs awkwardly tangled beneath her like a puppet with its strings cut. Her glider pack had partially disengaged, one wing still half-deployed, twitching. For a long moment, nobody said anything. Then Fang, ever the stalker, burst out laughing over comms. Ohhh, that was beautiful. Hunter groaned, pushing herself up just enough to glare at them, her face half-covered in dust and crushed vegetation. I hate this planet. Gravel walked over, arms crossed. You good? She spat out a leaf. Do I look good? You shouldve told us your glider malfunctioned so we could assist you, Priest told her. That was dangerous. It didnt malfunction. I just suck, she replied. Gravel smirked, rocking back on his heels. Well, at least youre self-aware. Also, youre paying for the broken glider. Priest crouched beside her, calmly flicking through his scanner. No fractures, no major injuries. Just your pride. Dont mention it again, please, Hunter grumbled, swatting at her gear and forcing herself upright. The moment she got her footing, she kicked at the ground, sending a puff of mist-drenched soil straight at Gravels boots. He took a step back, unimpressed. Chill. Im wearing my collectors edition tactical boots today. Atop the clouds, the floating city of Bortho was now nothing but a giant silhouette amongst the haze, stretched in all directionsmassive, interconnected platforms suspended on a lattice of reinforced graviton stabilizers, keeping the entire structure afloat above mists. That city is more a drifting archipelago than a city, Hunter looked up, then looked back at the forest. And this. This is just weird. Weird would be the right word for it. Gravel nodded. Focus, Priest reminded them. And do not joke around this time. Yes, Dad, Hunter said. Beneath Bortho, the lower altitudes were coated in a near-permanent layer of thick, nutrient-rich fog, dense enough that many ground-based settlements had long been abandoned. The mist was a double-edged swordit saturated the air with organic compounds which gave way to bizarre, fast-growing plant life and supplied airborne mineral deposits that made the planet invaluable for resource extraction. But it also meant that anything left at sea level for too long was either consumed by unchecked biological processes or crushed under the weight of its own mutations. As she adjusted her gear, the forest around them swayed, its eerie film-like foliage undulating in slow, rhythmic waves in response to the disturbance of their arrival. A soft, wet creaking echoed through the treesnot the sound of wood bending, but something organic shifting. Yeah . . . I beg we bounce, Hunter whispered. We bounce. Gravel nodded. Chapter 30.5: Space Opera Family Reunion (NEW CONTENT) Fang hadnt talked to her cousin Liu Jilin since the man took up a more traditional line of workwell, traditional by his standards. These days, he was stationed on Kepler-9c, a planet in the star system adjacent to Earth, where he worked as a Neural Terrain Architect. An elite fusion of neuroscience, AI engineering, and planetary development, it was a job that only existed in this era. Kepler-9c was a barely habitable rock, with an atmosphere still in the process of being stabilized. Instead of manually building cities, Jilins team designed cognitive terraforming networksmassive, AI-driven constructs that shaped the land and climate based on human neurofeedback. Settlers were implanted with light neural interfaces, allowing their collective subconscious desires to influence the planets structure over time. If enough people wanted a river, tectonic shapers and water synthesis modules would make it happen, albeit across at least decades. If they longed for warm, stable weather, the system would adjust air currents and greenhouse balances accordingly. It was cutting-edge, expensive, and wildly experimental. Some people loved it. Others feared the idea of an entire planet responding to the whims of human minds. Fang, of course, thought it was completely ridiculous. Youre telling me you build planets based on vibes now? she had scoffed the last time they spoke. Not vibes, Jilin had corrected. Aggregated neural intent mapped to planetary-scale synthesis protocols. It still sounded like vibes to Fang, even though shed been thoroughly walked over the concept in her own studies. Today, however, she was calling Liu Jilin for a different reason. Fang flicked through her holo-interface, accessing a turbo-speed cross-system comm relaythe expensive kind. She didnt hesitate before authorizing the absurd charge. The signal bounced through relay stations at near-lightspeed, punching through security filters and lag-reduction protocols until it finally reached Kepler-9cs comm grid. It took a while. Not because the tech was slow, but because Jilin was probably busy. He was always the busier one. She sighed, leaned back, and waited. A full minute passed before the call finally connected. Jilins face, a good twenty years older than Fang looked, formulated onto her screen, and his tired eyes daggered at her like shed just interrupted something important. Fang, he said in Mandarin, which had become the 3rd most widely-spoken language across the galaxy, sandwiched between the two most widespread Zvevan languages. Do you have any idea how much your call just cost? And you dialed in credit-sharing mode! More than your salary, probably, she replied. Hey, Linlin. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Jilin groaned, rubbing his temples. What are you calling for? You need me to falsify records that you cant hack your way into, or break into a restricted zone? Fang grinned. Aw. You do know me. Unfortunately. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling. And here I thought youd finally turned to a respectable life. Where are you now? What do you want? She stretched, letting the silence hang for a second before finally answering. Nothing illegal. Just a chat. Hows sis doing? Sis referred to his wife, Liang Yuwei. Jilin blinked, as if surprised by the question. Yuweis fine. Busy with her research, as always. Shes been working on some next-gen cryo tech, and keeps saying shes this close to a breakthrough. Fang hummed. Still overworking herself, huh? Tell her to take a break before she turns into one of her own test subjects. Jilin quickly narrowed his eyes. Thats sweet and all, but this call costs a thousand ducats a minute. Get to the point, Fang. Fang turned her gaze to the sky beyond the cockpit, where a flock of bizarre birds with excessively elongated wings glided. Do you still keep in touch with brother Jiye? Jiye? He repeated, like he was testing the name out loud. Then he leaned back on his chair, pressing it way too far behind. We exchanged a few messages last year about visiting mother during Lunar, but you know what hes become. We dont see eye-to-eye anymore. I dont know what hes become, Fang sneered. Thats why Im asking. Jilin let out a slow breath, staring past the screen like he was searching for the right wordsor debating if he even wanted to answer. Fang knew he would choose not to think about Jiye if he could. There was too much history there, too many choices neither of them could take back. Hard to say. Hes deep in something, but I dont ask. His chair creaked as he shifted. The last time we actually saw each other, he looked . . . different. Like hes been high on some neuro-spike every day. But its not my place to worry about him, like how its not my place worrying about you. He let the words simmer for a good second. Are you still with the same escort crew? Yeah. She left out the part where their escort activities had teetered into the realm of criminal activtities. Your mom keeps asking me why you never call. Fang stiffened. Her heels kept rubbing against one another, and she had no way to stop them. Did . . . did you tell her . . . I didnt say anything. Told her youve been doing well, got yourself a new craft and everything. Do you still use the same virtual wallet on the Sye network? Yeah. There wasnt anything good to tell mom about. Fang hadnt contacted her family in so long, and it would be too awkward to do so now. She wasnt sure if she could look at her in the eyes, but she was dead sure she would never be able to look at her dad anymore. She was such a failure. Ill send you the ducats you spent on this call, so dont worry about it. Dont be a stranger and dont send the creds back. Iugh. She buried her face in her palms. Thank you. Jilin huffed a quiet laugh. You say that like it physically pains you. Fang peeked at him through her fingers. It does physically pain me. Good. Maybe next time youll call before you need something. His voice was light, unnaturally so. But you havent told me where you are now. Tau Serpentis d, she said. Oh. Jilin straightened himself as he leaned toward the screen. I think Jiye might be close by. Chapter 31: Space Opera Pilgrimage It took them no more than five minutes to reach the edge of the desert. The transition was immediate, disturbingly so. Here, the air was sapless. Not just dry, but utterly devoid of moisture, stripped clean of anything living. Gravel exhaled, then stopped his exhalation midway. His breath felt thinner, and his lips were already beginning to chap. The ground beneath their feet gave a deceptive softness at first, but each step pressed against compacted mineral layers just beneath the surface. There was no wind, no real movement, save for the occasional drifting of sand when their boots disturbed it. Smells like rust, Hunter muttered, adjusting the fit of her gloves. Wonder what kind of metal is beneath the surface. They might as well open an iron ore here. High iron concentration in the sand, Priest replied. Oxidation from the airborne particulates, carried from the ocean winds. Thats where the scent comes from. But would be hard to extract. Why? She asked. Why do you ask if youre just going to ask again the next time? Gravel spoke with an unnatural tightness, a result of keeping his mouth barely open to avoid letting the air in. I dont ask things twice, Gravel. I only do so if the surrounding circumstances change. Are you going to ask why theres no wind current too? He grinned. Now that you mentioned it . . . Priest provided the immediate answer she wanted, The atmosphere retains heat but doesnt circulate it well. Everything here happens on a geological scale. Dont you love it when you have a walking thesaurus next to you? Gravel shrugged. Void-forsaken planet. Hunter scrunched her nose. What do you think Xaxx is doing here? Weve never asked why his crew tagged along. Maybe he just thinks were a fun bunch to be around. Gravels lips broke into a silly grin, his teeth still tightly clenched together. But yeah, we should ask him. We should reach shelter before nightfall, Priest noted, checking his readings. Temperature drops fast. The skeletal structures of Mmara jutted from the sand like broken teeth. The surfaces of twisting spires were either stained with streaks of bronze rust, pockmarked, or otherwise hollowed like bones picked clean, and a few before them crumbled from the simple vibration force of them stepping by. Hard to believe these were once livable buildings. Fortresses, Hunter looked up, then around. A whisper of movement glinted in the corner of Gravels vision. He turned instinctively. Hunter pulled her laser gun free, though she didnt raise it yet. Tell me you saw that. I didnt see anything, but. . . His posture tensed as Morkanium took over his fingers. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Something gleamed. The air was cooling, and heat distortion didnt explain the faint, rhythmic ripple that followed. Priest adjusted his scanner. A moment later, his gaze sharpened. Water. Gravel exhaled, his breath thin and dry. What? Theres an oasis behind these ruins, Priest confirmed. And it is a real one. Something has touched the water. If theres an oasis, theres likely people, Hunter looked to Priest then to Gravel, awaiting signals. Gravel signaled with a quick hand motion, and the three of them moved forward in a staggered formation, keeping low and using the jagged remains of Mmaras ruins as cover. Gravel took point, Hunter flanked to the right, and Priest stayed slightly behind with his scanner held close. Still nothing. No voices. No sign of human habitation. But there were still movements. Not ripples of water this time. Gravel dropped behind a crumbling wall. The Morkanium-infused finger had already formed, and he recalled how he shot Morkanium needles out of his fingertips. Last time hed done that was four years ago, around the same time hed learned about the true nature of the horrible accident that had caused this mutation. Morkanium wasnt a metal in the conventional sense. It wasnt mined, smelted, or shaped by hand. It was a reactive, semi-organic material that bonded with living tissue, adapting to its hosts physiology. For Gravel, it had integrated into his skeletal structure, responding to nerve impulses like an extension of his own body. Morkanium in his fingers could shift, liquefy, and reform in an instant. But to be able to manipulate this property to such extent, the host had to survive the process of integration. The more forceful the integration, the higher the chance of compatibility. Hunter slipped between the ruined spires, her gun steady at her side. Priest crouched near what remained of an archway and switched his visor to low-light mode. Gravel signaled forward. They advanced into the damp, overgrown terrain of the oasis, and Gravel could taste a tinge of humidity on the tip of his tongue. Then he tasted blood. Corpses. Bodies lay scattered across the clearing, slumped over tree roots or half-buried in the undergrowth. Some were freshtoo fresh. One mans face had been stripped down to the bone, the remaining half frozen in a final grimace. Anothers torso had been ripped open, ribs cracked apart, but some organs still remained, partial and bloodied. The blood trail hadnt dried. Hunter grimaced. Well, that answers whether there were people here. Priest swept his visor across the scene. Some of these wounds match a big cat attack patterns. He stopped at another corpse. The body was still intact, but with burn marks along the collarbone. Others do not. Burns? Gravel frowned, stepping closer. The wound was too precise to be random fire damage. Concentrated energy blast. No shell casings, no scorch marks from repeat fire. This was execution-style. One shot per target. Cover me, Gravel whispered as he crouched beside one of the bodies. His gloved fingers brushed against a metal tag, half-buried in the damp earth. He pulled it free and wiped the grime off with his thumb. Kaede Viper Tanaka. One of their targets. He exhaled through his nose, tucking the tag away. One down. Artificial light hit his eyes. It was coming from the dead womans wristband. Its cracked screen was still active with a half-loaded display. A notification hovered in the air, stuck mid-playback. A holo-note. Gravel reached out, tapping the interface with two fingers. The screen stuttered, then stabilized, revealing a fragmented message in blue text: WE WERENT THE HUNTERS. WE WERE THE TEST. He froze, but then immediately got ahold of himself. Gravel checked the sender, but there was no name. No timestamp. He swore under his breath. This wasnt just a botched mission. The bushes rustled. Something exploded out of the undergrowth. Gravel threw himself back as a massive shape lunged fangs snapping shut inches from his throat. Hunter spun, gun raised. Another one of such creature slammed into her, bulldozing her out of Gravels view. The plates of armor refracted in his eyes with a sharp, prismatic luster. Diamond. Sabertooth tigers. Chapter 32: Space Opera Battle Royale Blue light flashed. The sabertooth tiger froze mid-air. Then both Gravel and the tiger were propelled away by a wave of gravitational energy. What he growled. In front of him was only the orange-tinted sky, thickened by wave-like, rippling clouds. Coarse sand infiltrated the dry air as it assaulted his nostrils. Then gravity wrestled him back down. Morkanium, like having a mind of itself, coated his knees, elbows, arms, legs, and neck. Gravel landed, but the pain was numbthe inky substance had absorbed most of the impact. With a thud, the tiger hit the ground several feet away from him. He coughed uncontrollably. Hunter wasnt faring much better. The second tiger had pinned her beneath its massive weight, its jaws snapped inches from her face. Cant use laser, she thought. What to do what to do what to do . . . She yanked free a compact, cylindrical device. Boxhithigh-impact shock charge. With a sharp flick, she twisted the activation ring. The cylinder hissed as she jammed it, praying this tigers flank would be exposed the same way as the last one she fought. The charge detonated. The beast flew, spinning in a circle before ramming into a tree. The bark splintered and woodchips splashed as its diamond skin plowed into it. Hunter rolled away, gasping for air as she twisted the spent charge off its grip and reached for another. She hurled the Boxhit charge at the other tiger, expecting it to arcbut it sailed straight into the air above the creatures head. She cursed in Vovici. Low gravity, high velocity. Shed have to adjust fast. She reached for the third one. The only one she had left. Gravel! Left! she barked. I see it! Gravel shouted, already ducking as his tiger lunged again. It moved wrong. Too fast, too precise. Its hind legs didnt just push off the ground, they coiled like tightly wound springs. That jumpit wasnt normal. The thing was using the low gravity better than they were. She pivoted and leveled her next charge launcher. Then she fired. But then she realized something. Too low! A shockwave ripped through the clearing. The tiger was hurled to the side, rolling across the dirt as it let out snarling, ragged growls. Her too low was in fact a perfect hit. Low gravity! Faster trajectory! Gravel reminded her. Inky-black metal solidified from Gravels knuckles to his shoulders. But it hadnt yet covered his chest. There wasnt time. Hunters tiger had already recovered, and was clawing through the dirt as it barreled toward him. Good enough. A single swipe on the chest would rip him in half. I just have to land a good punch. Priest! Gravel bellowed. Then came Priests plasma beam. The beam tore into the ground just beside the tigers path. The sudden force sent dirt and debris flying, and the beast, mid-leap, lost its balance. Its body twisted awkwardly, claws swiping at nothing but air. Gravel leaped, fist cocked back. His upper body moved too fast, his lower body too slow. Shit. He was tilting, overcompensating. Then the artificial gravity kicked in. The angles too awkward. My bodys flying too fast. But I have to land a hit. Something structural. His boots yanked him down just as he swung. His reinforced knuckles slammed into the tigers joint like a meteor punching through a glacier. Crack. The diamond plating shattered on impact as spiderweb fractures split across the beasts hide. The shockwave from the punch traveled through bone, muscle, and nerve. Snap. Then came the second break. The tigers back leg gave way with a pop, bending at a twisted angle. The creature howled as it landed head-first into the ground. It crumpled onto its side, tumbling across the dirt, leaving deep gouges in the ground as it writhed. Gravel landed on his knees. The landing hurt like hell. His arm throbbed from the impact, and his grin was stupidly lopsided, and just a little unhinged. Thank fuck. The second tiger remained unshaken by its mates agony. This one was slightly larger, its muscles were bulkier, its movements sharper. Dont these things know fear? Wild beasts shouldnt act like this, Hunter said as she backpedaled, trying to put some distance between them. Hunter tried to sidestep, but her feet felt too heavy compared to the rest of her body. The sudden imbalance nearly sent her sprawling. The beast closed in in a blink. Priest! she yelled. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. I cannot do consecutive charges. I will Priests words cut off as his cybernetic arm spasmed. Overload. He then pulled out his sidearm, a Voltek-9 plasma pistol. Not designed for cutting through diamond-plated monsters. Priest fired anyway. The bolt of condensed energy struck the tigers hide with a sharp snap, but soon refracted off its surface like water sliding off glass before dispersing. The creature did not lose its aim on Hunter. It burst into a sprint. She wouldnt be able to outrun it. The plating stretched over the tigers upper face like a jagged mask, starting from the ridge of its snout and fanning out across its forehead. Sharp, angular layers formed a natural helm, shielding its skull like an exoskeleton. But it doesnt cover the eyes. Hunters grip tightened on her rifle. She had one shot. The instant its hind legs coiled, she fired. The bolt screamed through the air, cutting clean between the shifting plates of its helm. A searing pop echoed as the plasma round punched into its exposed eye. The tiger let out a hideous, choked snarl as its ruined socket sizzled with acrid smoke. Its lunge turned into a flailing collapse, then it slid on the ground. A shrieking, high-pitched keening resounded. The diamond plating along its face and limbs scraped against the dirt, and sparks flared where the jagged edges met stone. As the beast met and obstructing Hashimote syndicate corpse, it crashed over the body and shattered the skull with a crunch. The bodys limbs jerked as blood smeared on the diamond. Thenthud. The tigers body came to a stop, mere inches from her boot. Its chest rose and fell in weak, stuttering breaths. Hunter raised the laser gun again, but there was no longer a target. She swallowed hard, gripping her weapon as she looked at the body. One more shot. Just to be sure. Then she shot at an exposed part of its flank. Then shot at another exposed part. Then another. Then she dropped to the ground on her butt. Her trigger finger shook uncontrollably amidst the lingering hiss of scorched flesh. For a long moment, no one spoke. Except for one sound. A ragged, wheezing growl. The tiger with the shattered leg was still alive. Its golden eyes were still glowing with undeterred aggression, locked onto Hunter. Gravel exhaled, pushing himself to his feet. His Morkanium-coated arms shifted, the inky black metal pulsing as it coiled tighter around his knuckles. He rolled his shoulders, winced at the soreness, then walked toward the downed beast. Priest flicked his wrist scanner back online, his visor palpitating as he ran a scan. No more hostiles, he reported, though his voice carried no relief. At least, none within immediate range. He stopped next to the writhing tiger, watching as it tried to move. He tilted his head slightly and muttered, Persistent fuck. You really dont value your life, do you? Then he drove his fist down. A wet, grotesque crack echoed through the clearing. His fist tore through, past diamond and bone, punching straight into the beasts chest cavity. The tiger spasmed violently beneath him, its remaining eye going wide. The tiger spasmed violently beneath him, eyes agog. A deep, rattling puff shuddered through its throat. Finally, its body sagged. Lifeless. Gravel ripped his arm free, flinging off excess blood and viscera. He turned to Priest and said with his hands extended, palms upward, Dont ask me why I didnt just punch through the meat. I wanted to test my strength against diamond. Again. Priest nodded once before flicking his scanner again. No additional movement detected. Gravel rolled his shoulders, tapping his own scanner to confirm. Good. Only then did they turn their attention back to Hunter. She was still sitting on the ground, catching her breath. Even as the adrenaline wore off, it seemed as though she could feel the phantom weight of the tigers charge pressing against her chest. You can see how these two might have killed all those people, Priest commented as he walked up to her, offering her a hand. She hesitated for half a second before accepting his help, pulling herself to her feet. Love that youre always so well-prepped, Hunter. It was Gravel this time. He was brushing the dust off his battered jacket, and despite everything, despite the blood on his hands, despite the soreness settling into his bones He finally grinned like he always did. Im baffled youre still grinning. Hunter looked at him, bewildered. What else am I supposed to do? He shrugged. Not grinning? Priest had already moved ahead, stepping over the massive corpse of the tiger Gravel had finished off. His scanner pulsed again as he swept it over the area. Six bodies in total. We can see that without scanning, Priest. Gravel laughed. We have these things called eyes. Gravel and Hunter weaved through the wreckage of the battle. The jungle floor was littered with Hashimote Syndicate mercs, their bloodied forms twisted where theyd fallen. Some had been ripped apart, others left in barely recognizable heaps. Gravel knelt next to one of the bodies, flipping it over with the back of his hand. The corpses rifle was still clutched in stiff fingers, the barrel partially embedded in the dirt. He pried it free and turned it over, inspecting it with mild curiosity. Old Republic gear, he muttered. Hunter raised an eyebrow. How old? Gravel pulled back the rifles charging handle. The weapon let out a dull clunk, its systems sluggish with age. Lets put it this waythis model, the Havoc-77 Gauss, was discontinued before I was born. He tossed it aside and picked up another rifle from a different corpse. This one had a chunk of its stock missing, the exposed internals rusted and corroded. And this? Tyrex Ballistic Carbine. Republic stopped making em decades ago. They only bother producing the tungsten rounds for em now. He scoffed, shaking his head. No wonder they all died. They stood no chance against these crazy beasts. Hunter exhaled, letting her gaze drift to the massive carcasses of the sabertooth tigers. She took an unconscious step away from the tigers. She turned to the others, her brow furrowed. Why are the sabertooth tigers here? Then she looked at the paw and claw marks the tigers had made. Thats a weird shape for a paw. Their paws looked like they were wider than those they saw on Namor, and they seemed to have specialized gripping pads. Now that she had a chance to look at the dead beasts more closely, they also had unnaturally elongated hind legs and much larger chests. These things seem to have adapted to this planets gravity. No wonder they were so fast. Nobody said anything. Before either of her crewmates could speak, Hunter answered it herself. Project Variant Genesis mustve created these monsters, specifically for Mendax-12. I have succumbed to sickness! Hi Space Opera enjoyers! Unfortunately I''ve fallen sick, so I kindly ask you guys to wait for another day so I can get a chapter online. The next chapter should be online on the 26th, and I don''t want you to be in the dark while I recover from my recent cold. In the meantime, may I interest you in our personal Discord server? Come and hang, and we can bounce ideas and I can answer whatever question you might have! Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Here''s the Discord server: https://discord.gg/6aWjVbF8kc Also, I would love it if you could leave a short review on the story''s front page. Boon, Bounty & Bad Decisions is now on Rising Stars for the Steampunk category, and your support will be really, really, really appreciated. Gravel might even give you a hug. Thank you! Chapter 33: Space Opera Desert Again, silence loomed upon them. Gravel took out from his pocket the tag hed retrieved from Kaeda Tanaka earlier. The tag was clean, pristine, and not yet tarnished by the jungles blood-soaked embrace. He flipped it in his fingers and then glanced at the body it had come from. He had recognized her insignia earliera coilgun with her name engraved in its barrel. Well, she isnt gonna use it now, is she? he muttered as he walked over, all the while checking the listing if there was a reward for the proof of Kaedas death individually. There was. 8 milion ducats, about 25% of the total payout. The reward was good enough, and he didnt need to account for the rest of the Syndicates gear. Hunter glanced over at him. Whats that look for? Gravel said with caution. Seems this little souvenir could be more profitable than this whole job. If we go back now, we get to recoup some creds and not lose our lives here. He bit his lips as his eyes darted between the corpses, the torn bodies of mercenaries, and the sabertooth tigers massive carcasses. Kaeda left a holo-note. It said that they were some sort of test subjects. Hunter didnt answer right away. She followed Gravels gaze, then looked back up at Gravel, her brow furrowing. This was an unauthorized test zone. Theres a reason nobodys ever completed this quest. Whoever took it on before us mustve figured out the hard way. Priest nodded. We retreat. Gravel already retraced his steps. Not permanently. Just for now. At least until we figure out what were really getting ourselves into. We take a breather, regroup, reassess the Someones approaching, Priest muttered, touching the side of his visor. Hunter steadied her gun and fell into a defensive stance. Gravels Morkanium crawled on his skin again. The silence stretched, but they heard no footsteps or no sounds of movement. But they trusted Priest. The man had better senses than them, and it wasnt just because of the visors. A figure emerged from the sands and trudged through the thick underbrush on the far side of the oasis. The mans gait was unsteady, and his clothes was ragged and torn, stained with dirt and blood. Bruises marred his face, and his outer clothing looked like itd been torn through by a clawed beast. He staggered as he approached, then raised his hands into the air. Dont shoot, he pleaded with a strained voice. Please, help us. Were all going to die . . . Then his voice cracked. Hunters grip tightened on her weapon, but she didnt raise it. Gravel exchanged a glance with Priest, his muscles coiled. Who the hell are you? Gravel called out. The mans face twisted in agony as he came closer. II dont know how much longer we have. Please, he gasped, his breath ragged. We were part of the last convoy. We came to check out the wreckage from the Syndicate, but . . . but we got caught. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Gravel didnt move, but his eyes narrowed. He glanced over at Priest, who gave him a subtle, knowing look. The pattern and the stitching suggested he was wearing the same kind of gear as the Syndicate mercs. The same clothing, the same insignia. Gravel snorted. You think we didnt recognize those clothes, buddy? Weve been in the game for longer than you know. Youre not some random survivor. The mans face paled, his lips quivering as if he was about to speak. But nothing came out, only ragged breaths and a pleading expression. Hunter raised her gun. Tell us the truth. The man swallowed hard as he spoke. His voice was barely audible because of the distance. Please, you dont understand Theyll come for you, too. We were trying to escape Gravel stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. Escape from what? Whats out there? Gonzo, The man opened his mouth, but another deep growl rumbled from behind the sand dunes cut him off. His face twisted in terror. No, no, no Not now Something massive exploded from the sand. The sand kicked up in clouds, and the creaturethe third sabertooth tigerburst from the earth, wrestling the man into the ground. Ahhh! Please, help me! Save me! Please! The man screamed in horror as he stretch a hand toward the direction of the trio. Retreat! Priest pressed. They turned and ran. Behind them, the scream grew ever louder, ever more horrifying. Then silence. *** Status! Are you all okay? The second the three of them stepped to the edge of the desert, Fangs voice blasted on comms. Were good, Hunter replied. Did your signal drop or something? I lost contact with you guys. It seems like somethings jammed the comms, since you guys couldnt have gone that far. Gravels gaze shifted over to the horizon, his senses still on high alert. Youve been offline for a while. Whats the situation on your end? Fangs voice came back with an edge of frustration. Nothings good. The areas crawling with interference, and I cant make heads or tails of it. Ive been trying to get a lock on your positions, but all Im picking up is static and some weird energy spikes. Whatevers causing it isnt natural. Then she sounded more urgent. The energy spikes Im reading? Theyre all concentrated around your position. Gravels eyes narrowed. What are you saying, Fang? Im saying, Fangs voice took on a tone of disbelief, the creatureswhatever they arearent the only threat out there. Someone or something is controlling them. This is way bigger than just some escaped beasts from a failed project. Hunter interjected, But the file said this site is supposed to have been abandoned. There might be a reason that it is abandoned, Priest said. Fang. Can you look up everything you can on the name Gonzo? A syndicate member uttered that name right before he died. Im on it, she replied. The threat might not be from those running the project. Gravel took in a small breath, careful not to breathe in too much dry air. Those things must have arrived recently. That Japanese syndicate has been operating for a long time and they died just now. Priest spoke, Enough speculation. Get out of here first. Hunter looked over at Priest. Weve got gliders to get down, but how the hell do we get back up? No one really thought that through, did they? Priests eyes shifted toward the distant rocky outcrops to the east. There is a rocky outpost about five clicks from here. Gravel chimed in, Shoulda read the handouts, Hunter. The dockworkers said its the place where they can get us airborne again. The gliders are supposed to launch from there and head back to the station. He glanced down at Hunters glider, which was lying half-buried in sand. But, that doesnt help if your gliders broken. Hunter scowled, inspecting her glider. Well figure it out later. Right now, we get to that outpost. Chapter 34: Space Opera Guide To Romance The rocky outpost loomed ahead, rising from the sands like a giant skywhale that had fallen face-first into the desert and decided to stay there out of spite. Unlike the modern towering docks they had launched from, this place was built for function over comforta squat structure of reinforced metal and, as archaic as it sounded, stone, welded into the natural rock formations to withstand the harsh desert winds. A landing platform protruded over the edge, built on rusting struts and anchored with thick cables. The anti-grav pads lined the edges where the gliders launched. Weathered banners flapped lazily from poles, their colors faded but still displaying the insignia of the dockworkers guild. There was no-one in sight. Hunter, with a giant backpack of looted weapon on her back, already reached for her firearm. Im sure those things dont climb up here. They might, Priest replied. This might get out of hand. We should warn the authorities once we are up. Gravel caught a brief twitch of Hunters fingers against her firearms grip. That was her tellHunter hated dealing with bureaucrats. Relax, Hunter. The authorities down here are the fun kind. He waggled his brows. You know, corrupt, bribable, and only mildly incompetent. That is exactly the opposite of what we need in this situation, Priest replied. Hunter still said nothing. You want them to be extremely incompetent instead? Weird, Gravel answered as he walked over a few modular buildings clustered around the main outpostliving quarters, storage units, and a small generator hub. He knocked on one of the quarters and a guard opened the door to meet him. She didnt look that unlike him: tall and on the chubbier side, curvaceous at the right places, and platinum hair falling to her shoulders. You lost, or you actually got business here? she asked, her voice carrying the terse, sharply enunciated accent of someone who had once called Earth home. Specifically Western Europe. More specifically, Neudeutsch or Dijkstadt. Gravel failed to go more specifically than that. Gravel flashed his usual lopsided smirk. More the latter than the former. We need a ride back up. Dockworkers told us this was the place. The guard exhaled, rolling her shoulders before stepping out of the doorway and nodding toward the platform. Yeah, youre in the right place. Weve got backup gliders availablethough if you wrecked yours, she eyed Hunters half-buried glider with a knowing smirk, thats gonna cost you. Hunter sighed, already bracing for bad news. How much? Fifteen thousand ducats. Hunter let out a slow breath. Of course. Gravel chuckled. Thats robbery. Thats inflation, the guard corrected. Hazard pays been raised, and we get a lot more idiots crashing than we used to. The cost of keeping this place running doesnt pay for itself. Gravel leaned slightly on the doorframe, studying her. Hazard pay, huh? You getting paid extra for this lovely desert vacation? She snorted. Yeah. Double what the city-edge docks pay. Not bad for a gig in the middle of nowhere. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. His interest piqued. Double? Thats pretty generous for standing around and babysitting gliders. The guard chuckled, shaking her head. You know whats funny? Another guy who came down here for Mmara last week said the same thing. About the pay. She leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms. Said it was too generous for what we actually do. Then he laughed and said he might have to make our jobs harderjust for the hell of it. Gravel raised a brow. Sounds like an asshole. Luckily for you, Id never say such a thing. She gave him an amused smile. Yeah. Maybe. But he paid the fee, didnt wreck his glider, and tipped the guards. He also wore a cool-looking helmet and huge canine teeth strung together like trophies. Didnt see the necklace on him when he came up yesterday. She shrugged. Probably got stolen. Gravel exhaled, shaking his head. Yeah, yeah. Well settle up in a second. He glanced at her name patch, barely readable under the desert grime. You got a name, or do I just call you toll collector? She smirked again, pulling a holo-card from her pocket and flipping it toward him. Elsa. And if youre ever dumb enough to come back down here, buy me a drink. Gravel caught the card, spinning it between his fingers. Ill hold you to that. Shes playful. Probably from Dijkstadt, and most definitely not from Neudeutsch. Hunter crossed her arms as she walked over. Are you seriously flirting right now? Elsa grinned, the kind of grin that was equal part childish and jovial. Let him. Makes my shift a little less boring. Gravel flapped his hands around. Cmon, let me live! I didnt question you when you go off for an hour searching for discarded cans underneath city sewages. Elsa tapped the small terminal embedded in her wristband, her gaze flicking to a glowing countdown. Your friends right, though. Next ascents in five minutes, she said. If you wanna get off this rock, Id stop flirting and start paying. Gravel held up his hands. Alright, alright. You can tell me I dont wanna see your face without being roundabout about it. He brought up his own interface, scanning the payment code stitched onto Elsas uniform just below her shoulder. A quick beep confirmed the transferthe usual fee, plus an extra five hundred slipped in for the hell of it. Elsa glanced at her wristband as the tip registered, then looked back at him, raising a brow. Trying to bribe your way into good karma? Nah, Gravel said, stepping back toward the platform. Just paying for good service. Hunter and Priest were already making their way to the launch zone. The anti-grav pads let out a flat fizzle beneath their feet as Gravel fell in beside them, stretching his arms as they approached their gliders. As he mounted his, he threw a smirk at Hunter. So, tell me, how did you spend your time then? Did you spend our time down here figuring out how these gliders actually manage to ascend? Hunter gestured toward the anti-grav emitters lining the platform. The airs too thick for normal lift, so the launch system uses stratified repulsion fieldsbasically, they push against different layers of the atmosphere using electromagnetic waves. The moment were airborne, the onboard system taps into residual heat pockets to maintain lift without needing full propulsion. Thats why we dont just drop like rocks when we reach cruising altitude. Gravel stared at her for a long moment, then burst into laughter. Of course you did! Thats our Hunter right here. Elsa gave them a lazy salute from below. Try not to miss me too much, Gravel flashed a grin at the guard as his glider lifted off the ground. Gravel. Priest cut in with a humorless voice. Seat restraints. Emergency oxygen check. Altitude stabilization calibration. You have done none of them. Gravel sighed. I was getting to it. I swear. He managed to get them all done before the launch sequence kicked in. A jolt of inertia pressed them down as the repulsion field fired, propelling them skyward. The outpost shrank beneath them, blended with the sand into an endless sea of ochre and gold. Mmara never looked smaller, until it was gone. Chapter 35: Space Opera Master Plan The emergency meeting had already stretched into its third minute of silence. Hunter had been walking back and forth, and the slight swaying of her pouch made Gravel frown. He didnt have a joke ready, and her pouch was only distracting him further. Sloan was busy making herself look invisible at the edge of the sofa, and Priest and Fang hadnt settled down on the couch yet. Again, rule one, Hunter repeated. Never trust the gov. Theres no way they didnt know about a bunch of mutated animals down there. And they refused to do anything about it. I looked into the credentials of the person posting the job, Fang said. It was listed under a generic city council account, which means it could be any of a dozen bureaucrats signing off without knowing the details. Mendax is a rogue planet. Theres no central authority strong enough to cover up the information from the mass, Hunter deduced. I think somebodys been intentionally keeping the gov in the dark. They might still think the poacher syndicate are going about their standard criminal activity as we speak. If it was any other day, Gravel wouldve just said not our problem if we get the hell out of this planet, but he was the one who told them to follow the trail of the drive. They couldnt back out now. As if a lightbulb had lit up in his head, Gravel snapped his fingers. That Elsa woman told me another guy came down there just last week and went back up yesterday. He couldnt have survived if hed faced the same monstrosity those guys faced. Hunter frowned. What Elsa? You mean the guard at the rocky station? The very one. Why are you only telling us that now? My brain malfunctioned, Gravel replied dryly. My bad. But if he made it back up unscathed, it means he knew something we didnt. We need a solid description of him. Time to ring up your new girlfriend I guess, Hunter shrugged. I looked up the public database for any Gonzo that could be related to Hashimoto, Priest interjected. Not much to go on. Only a couple of low-ranked recruits. He turned to Gravel. Give Fang your local carrier card. Two people digging the local planetary database is better than one. Gravel did as told, and Fang got to work. Another fifteen minutes of furiously tapping on the datapad passed before she announced, Got something. Gonzo Kashiwagiconfirmed supplier, previously affiliated with Hashimoto Syndicate. Last known location was the country of Lokoae, across the continent on the other side of Mendax. Hunter walked over and peeked at the report. Do we know if hes still there? He resurfaced three weeks ago, according to this, Fang continued. Apparently, he had a run-in with a local faction thats been making waves in Lokoae. Theres no public bounty on him, but someone flagged his presence. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Gravel sighed and leaned forward. Alright, were splitting up. We need to cover more ground if we want answers before another merc team gets chewed up. Fang nodded. Ill head to Lokoae with Hunter. We need boots on the ground to confirm if Gonzo is still alive and what he knows. Hunter interjected. How are we supposed to find this Gonzo in a foreign city with no lead? I can access all the needed databases. Fang then gave Hunter a wink; the fun kind. And you can ring up Raiq. Remember? That fling of yours. Hes not a fling, Hunter groaned. Hes a strategic partner. Fang smirked. Strategic partner, huh? Is that why you ended up drinking on his tab last time we were on Enzo? Hunter rolled her eyes. That was a negotiationhe wanted me to put in a good word with his old employer on Haret, who I happened to know. Which, by the way, I did, and in return, he owed me a favor. She left out the part where Raiqs "favor" turned into a half-hour of sweet-talking him through a botched deal with a local cartel. The man was a decent info broker, but he had the kind of confidence that got people shot. If she called him now, she wasnt sure if hed still be running his operation or if hed already pissed off the wrong people. But she knew for sure that his sphere of information gathering spanned across the five different star systems, which would include Mendax-12. That settled, then. Gravel tapped his fingers against the table. Priest, youre with me. Were gonna dig up what we can on Elsas mystery man. Then Gravel turned his eyes to Sloan, who stared back at him. . . . Yes? She furrowed her brow. You know your way around classified intel better than any of us, Gravel said. See if you can get access to the planetary database and find anything on Project Variant dealings. Specifically, anything tied to Mendax-2 or 4. Sloan folded her arms. I dont have any contacts on this planet. I cant do this alone. Before Gravel could respond, the ships comms flared to life with an incoming call. Xaxxs familiar voice crackled through the voicemail as soon as Gravel opened it. How are you enjoying your day, my favorite idiots? Theres your contact. Gravel shrugged. Priest cleared his throat. Gravel, you and Xaxx should handle the mysterious man. I will be with Sloan. Her task needs secrecy. Gravel had realized his judgment was quite off today, moreso than usual. Sloan wasnt even a part of the team yet, and nothing could stop her from simply abandoning the mission and dissipating to the crowd, never to be heard again. Of course, she couldnt do this alone. Nonetheless, he still groaned because groaning was a necessary part of his daily ritual, or else he would involuntarily sacrifice himself to the Dark Lord. Here I thought I was gonna get away from that guy for a second. Guess not. Youre right, though. Lets get this over with before I lose more brain cells. Didnt see you complain when you were stuck with that chick Nastija, Hunter snorted and rolled her eyes. Gravel shot her a flat look. That was different. Hunter crossed her arms. Oh yeah? How? Priest interrupted, Focus. We move fast, keep our comms clean, and check in every three hours. If something goes wrong, we pull out. Gravel exhaled, standing up and stretching his arms. Ill return Xaxxs call. Someone remind me to drink after this. I thought you were cutting back, Hunter asked. I am, Gravel replied. Thats why I said remind me and not stop me. Chapter 36: Space Opera Late-Night Conversation (Hunter) The Karakoian docking station was long behind the Black Fang, but Fang wasnt convinced they were out of Bortho space just yet. She turned her attention to the control panel, running through the standard airborne ship checks. Fuel reservesstable. Navigationlocked onto the right trajectory. External hull integrityno anomalies. Internal pressure balanceholding steady. Even the secondary redundancies were all green. Still, she went through them twice, fingers flicking switches and scanning the readouts. Hunter, lounging with her feet propped up on the console on the co-pilots station, cracked an eye open. Youve rarely been this serious about protocols. She''d been doing this for years now, the propping of her feet, the routine of checks, the familiar grumble of the ship, the subtle shift in the atmosphere when things werent quite right. But there was something about this mission that made it harder to simply slip into the familiar ease she relied on. Maybe Fang was feeling the weight of it all too. Fang didnt stop. This ship isnt insured. Im not getting a dime if its blown to bits. Hunter smiled. You rarely say that, also. Now theres only us two, you got something on your mind you wanna talk about? She had been trying to say this to her the last time they were alone. The two hadnt been as close since, well, the argument, but Hunter figured it was for the best. Their opinions on life were fundamentally different on many fronts. Fang believed in lucky charms. Hunter didnt. Fang also believed in those weird get-rich-quick schemes that sounded too good to be true. Hunter didnt. Fang believed in facing her fears. Hunter didnt. Fang didnt say anything for a moment. Hunter waited for a few seconds, then just said, If you dont, Ill get us two cans of Grosmunster. The subtle tension in Fangs shoulders hadnt faded, and neither had her irritation. I hate Sloan being on the ship. Yeah? Fang rolled her shoulders and let out a soft grrr before speaking. If shes just going to be silent all the time and not contribute anything, she really shouldve just stayed on Mendax. Whats the point of having her around? You mightve said the same thing about Priest had you been there before the old man, though. At least Priest gets things done. Sloan just sits there, barely talks, and acts like the rest of us are beneath her. I dont trust people like that. But you wouldnt have known that Priest can get things done. The first time we met Priest, he was fiddling with a malfunctioning vending machine in the verge of the galaxy. He wasnt fixing it to make the thing workhe was taking it apart just to see if he could. He was doing nothing with his life. Hunter shrugged. You need someone to dig up files the proper way, youd rather Gravel do it? Only then did Fang turn to her. No, Id rather not need someone at all. I noticed youve done the most defending Sloan out of anyone here. Why? Hunter tilted her head slightly. She wanted to say something else, but she ended up swallowing her words and replied with something entirely different from what shed originally planned, I guess I dont mind her as much as you do. Fang snorted. So you like her because she doesnt talk? I like that she doesnt get in my way, Hunter corrected. But lets not kid ourselves. Shes sitting on a lot more than shes saying. Fang scoffed. "I don''t get you sometimes. I thought you were the type to keep a close watch on things like this, but youre just letting it slide." Hunter stretched, folding her arms behind her head. Alright, then. What do you think shes actually capable of? And if what youre worried about does happen, whats your plan? Fangs fingers tapped against her knee. Worst case? Shes a plantworking for someone else, feeding them intel. If thats the case, we cut her off before she compromises us. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Hunter nodded. And if shes just keeping secrets but not working against us? Fangs brow furrowed. Then I get those secrets out of her. One way or another. Hunter smirked at that but said nothing, letting Fang continue. She could also just be using us for protection, waiting for the right moment to bail when she finds something better. In that case, we make sure she knows theres no better. If shes with us, shes with usend of story. Hunter watched her for a moment, then gave a slow nod. There you go. Fang raised an eyebrow. What? Hunter shrugged. Youve got your solutions. If any of that happens, Ill defer to you. Hunter wanted to ask Fang whether she had resolved it with her boyfriend. Whether they had talked it out. But the way Fang narrowed her eyes told Hunter she was in the mood for something entirely differently. "Why do you always say that?" Fang asked as she swept strands of her hair behind her ears. Hunter glanced at her. "Say what?" That youll defer to me. Or Gravel. Like, I trust our captain, but I dont go around saying it every time. Even last time, when Xaxx looked like he was about to turn us into spacedust, you still trusted his judgment. Why? Of course. It can never be about your life or my life anymore. Has to be about Sloan, or Gravel, or anyone else. You trusted his call on that one too. Yeah, but I didnt trust him on the first day. Especially with the way he lets his mouth run. Our dear Captain is still making that sushi joke. Which started seven months ago, and didnt even stem from an actual interest that Hunter had in tentacles, but was from that one time she ate a still-wiggling Earthling octopus leg when no one else dared to. Fang did join in on the joke, but only Gravel kept throwing back to it months later. How do you know I trusted Gravel since the first day? Hunters smile turned into a silly grin. Why dont you tell me about it then? Youve told me many stories, yet there is always something I havent heard, Fang replied. The Black Fang had ascended onto the troposphere, and the thickening clouds were all they could see from the front viewport. From her pouch, Hunter took out a nano-welder that fit on her index finger. She turned it over in her hand, the tiny tool groaning as it activated. This thing saved my ass once, she mused. First job with Gravel, we had a busted containment latch mid-flight. Cargo was military surplus, stuff that wouldve made us a prime target if it spilled out where it shouldnt have. I spent half an hour trying to figure out how to fix it, and ran through every stupid protocol I could think of. Fang glanced at her. And? And Gravel just walked up, yanked a welder off the rack, and said, Just fuse the damn thing shut and land at the nearest port. Then you can wreck your brains off. Hunter smirked. I thought he was reckless. But we made it through, and later, when we did have time to fix it properly, we completed our assignment and were a lot richer. She then leaned back further. Then there was this other job. Simple cross-system carrier deliverynothing fancy. We were passing through Ouroboro, and none of us had been there before. He took one look at the coordinates and said, Straight route, no detours. We run hot through the patrol sectors, nobody has time to scan us. She shook her head slightly. I wasnt like I am now. I overthought things. Spent an extra hour running simulations, figuring out a staggered route that would take us through a secondary lane, off the main paths, avoiding inspections. Told him my plan, and you know what he said? Sure. If youve thought it out, roll with it. Anddddd? Fang chimed in. Nothing went to plan. Lane disruption, randomized patrol schedule, mechanical failure, you know. Worst of the worst. She stood and walked out of the cockpit, raising her voice as she went. Getting us some Grosmunster. Dont leave in the middle of a story! Fang called after her. But she was already gone, only to be back a minute later with two cold cans in her hands. Hunter tossed one over to Fang. Gravel pulled us out of that mess. Not cleanly, not easily, but he did. The next time, I went with his gut instead of over-analyzing. And it worked. Right, so thats all it took? One bad mission and suddenly Captain Gut Instinct has all the answers? Fang asked. Hunter dropped back to her seat and popped the can open. After a while, I started keeping track. Every time we followed his instinct, things worked out more often than not. So yeah, I trust his judgment. She took a sip. This tasted better before. Then she gulped half the can down before Fang could open hers. Working with him for as long as I have, you start picking up some of his habits. Im just a lot more laid-back than I used to be. Fang tilted her head. Gravel was against Sloan being on the ship. You were against that decision of his! Hunter stretched, rolling her shoulders. Thing is, Gravels never trusted anyone that much. Seven years, and how many people has he let into this crew? She gave Fang a knowing look. If its recruitment-related, Ill trust my own judgment more than his. Fang stared at Hunter for a moment, then cracked open her can of Grosmunster. The fizz filled the silence between them. Guess well see if youre right, she muttered, taking a sip. Hunter just smiled, tipping her own can back. We always are. Beyond the viewport, the clouds thinned, revealing a pod of skywhales slowly floating toward the giant sun. Chapter 37: Space Opera ’Talking’ Stage (Gravel) Gravel had his fair share of regrets, but giving the bigger quarter to Hunter was never one of them. His own space was little more than a reinforced metal box bolted to the ships frame, with a narrow cot crammed into the corner, and he knew that esconcing herself into this tiny corner would be Hunters worst nightmare. Above his head was an actual paper poster of Arko Draeazone of the greatest shockball players of the 26th centurythat had yellowed slightly with age. Holo versions were always easily duplicatable, no matter how the distributors tried to inflate their value with unique tracking numbers, token IDs, or any other technobabble sounding name they could attach to them, but paper posters were rare and exclusive. He never cared much for collectors items, but Hunter had poked fun at him about how empty his walls looked, so hed stuck it there just to prove a point. Across from it, a dented storage locker sat against the opposite wall, covered in old mission stickers and half-ripped barcodes from deliveries long completed. Between it and the weapons rack hung the album cover of Ticatic, an alien synthwave band that sounded like the kind of song oned play as they were launched off-ship in an escape pod. The cover was an abstract mess of neon blues and looping spirals, but it was freea gift from his long-time spare part supplier Zizi. Last he heard, she still asked about him from time to time. They were never on bad terms. He stared at the holo-interface for another five seconds before swiping to the Contact tab. The name Elsa C Rocksand Glider Dock showed up. He drummed his fingers against the armrest before finally typing out a message. GRAVEL: Hey. You still working the glider docks? Need to ask you something. Whens your shift? It was a good fifteen minutes before he got a reply. ELSA: Oh? And here I thought you were just another merc whod never text back. Didnt even make me wait a full day. Im flattered. :p Gravel sighed at the use of the childish but timeless emoticon that only Earthlings use, rubbing his temple before typing again. GRAVEL: Gotta admit, wasnt expecting that response. Just need to know when youre around so I can call. ELSA: You are such a dry texter. Why dont you text the way you talk? ELSA: But fine. Im on shift later today, 1400 to 2200. Why? You angling for some VIP treatment if you crash your next glider or sumthin? GRAVEL: Never asked for a VIP treatment in my life, mind ya. If I crash another glider, just let me die. GRAVEL: You free to talk around 1500? ELSA: Ooooh, making it a scheduled thing? Careful, Gravel, I might start thinking this is a real date. Ill be free, though. If youre nice to me, I might even answer. Gravel exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. He wasnt sure if this was going to be a productive conversation, but at the very least, Elsa didnt seem to hate talking to him. It wasnt every day someone spared him some time when he inquired about it just hours earlier. That was something. GRAVEL: Appreciate it. Ill call then. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ELSA: Looking forward to it. Gravel set his communicator down, leaning back in his chair. Hed barely had a second to collect his thoughts when the ships comm flared to life. Gravel! My favorite degenerate. How do you feel about a little game of Zarqball? Continental semis. Live seats. Say no, and Ill assume youve been replaced by an AI clone. Xaxxs voice punched through the line. Gravel narrowed his eyes. Zarqball? The game was only possible on Bortho because of its low gravityhalf sport, half controlled chaos. Players bounced off the walls of a zero-G arena, launching themselves at high speeds to score mid-air goals. It had a reputation for causing concussions, and Gravel had always wanted to see it live. Depends, Gravel said, already intrigued. Whos going? Your favorite people. Me and Nastija. She asked you to come. Xaxx sounded amused. You in or what? His gaze flicked to his communicator. 1400. Check in with the team. 1500. Call Elsa. His schedule wasnt exactly open. But it was a live game of ball. He exhaled. Yeah, sure. We need to talk about something anyway. *** The Zarqball stadiums design made sense only in the context of Borthos low gravitya twisting, multi-tiered arena where floating spectator pods were suspended along curved magnetic rails, shifting as per audiences convenience. The local Borthans, with their elongated frames and gliding membranes, stood out among the off-worlders as they lined in a queue in front of the entrance. Gravel spotted Xaxx first, because Xaxx was impossible not to spot. Dressed in deep blue robes layered over an armored bodysuit that put Gravels jacket to shame, Xaxx looked like someone who couldnt decide between being a merchant, a warlord, or a scam artist. Then there was Nastija leaning against a grav-rail, staring at nothing in particular. Her white jacket, military-cut but casual, was crisp despite the humid air, and her short, asymmetrical hair was even whiter than her jacket, the longer strands barely brushing her cheek. Gravel could have sworn she was a blondie the last time they met. Gravel walked up, hands in his pockets. Didnt take you two for sports fans. Xaxx grinned, spreading his arms like hed just spotted a long-lost friend. And I didnt take you for the punctual type, yet here we are. Life is full of surprises. Besides, the energy here is palpable. He gestured at the locals with his elbow. You ever see a Borthan play this game? Its like watching someone cheat physics. Nastija shifted her weight slightly against the rail like it was her way of acknowledging his arrival. Gravel smirked. Yeah, but I doubt thats why youre here. Xaxxs grin didnt waver. Cant a man enjoy some downtime? Gravel chuckled. Sure. And Im here because Ive always been deeply passionate about Borthan architecture. He let the words sit for a second before adding, You two need something from me? Nastija finally turned her head, just enough to look at Gravel as Xaxx clapped a hand on his shoulder. We need a man of culture to enjoy the game with, obviously. The other stuffwell, thats a conversation for later, isnt it? Its mutually beneficial, only now did Nastija join in the conversation. Gravel didnt react, but he caught the meaning. Not here. Not in public. He eyed Nastija againshorter hair, different color. Something had changed since the last time they met. But instead of asking, he just smirked and added, New look? Nastija didnt bite. She just raised an eyebrow. Do you care? But it didnt sound like she was annoyed. More likely she literally meant it when she asked that question. Gravel shrugged. Just making sure I recognize you next time. Xaxx chuckled. Oh, dont worry. If she needs your attention, youll know. Gravel didnt doubt that for a second. Chapter 38: Space Opera Regrets (Sloan) If the floating city of Bortho was a person, Sloan Albrecht was rather sure it would be tightrope walker. Everything about the place seemed to balance on the edge of something. The magnetized anchors and repulsor fields didnt seem to be doing a good job of keeping the building from swaying, while across from them, the structures suspended by chains stretched between floating districts looked almost ridiculous with the signs Convenient Store and Barber Shops on them. The vehicles formed their own roadssome hovered inches above the ground, gliding silently on antigrav lifts, while others darted through the air in unpredictable arcs, zipping between the floating skyscrapers like reckless dragonflies. A deep, resonant thrumm reverberated from the heavier cargo haulers as their stabilizers struggled against the gravity fields. Above were the louder, sporadic whooshes of high-speed flyers cutting sharp turns through the skyline. There were no traffic lanes, only instinct and sheer nerve. Sloan grumbled as a floating ad-drone swooped too close, flashing a LUXURY VACATIONS ON VARITHE10% OFF holographic display right in her face. She swatted it aside with a scowl. This place doesnt believe in personal space. Priest followed Sloans exact footstep. His eyes remained glue to his holo-display, reading over the latest text exchange between them and the archive office. ARCHIVE REQ. RESPONSE: Your request for database access has been received. Processing time: Estimated 4-7 business days. He typed out a response with his eye movements. PRIEST: We need access today. Urgent. The response was instantaneous. ARCHIVE RESPONSE: Physical requests must be filed in person. Visit the local representative office for further assistance. Should not have called it public information then, he muttered as he locked his display. They shuffled through the city, stepping onto a floating transit platform that nudged them before gliding forward. Priest eyed a group of locals ahead, their long-limbed figures clad in breathable, form-fitting fabric. The ones who drifted above the ground like specters had modified clothing with built-in stabilizers. As they passed, Sloan caught one of them effortlessly vaulting over a railing and caught the air with their wings as they floated down to a lower walkway. Sloan asked, No luck? Priest shook his head, but said nothing else. Sloan squeezed her forehead and picked up the pace. Priest kept up with her. I do not suppose you have another plan? I read the fine print. It says that if a representative is unavailable, you can bypass the initial filing process by providing a corporate identification code from any registered corporate entity on the planet. If were able to provide an official credential, specifically one from an authorized corporate or government entity, they can issue access immediately. She stopped for a second. I know some people who are not physically on Mendax, but they might have a registered subsidiary here. Do you think you can call in favors in this state? I dont know. I dont know if my comm line is locked yet. She hadnt tried calling her dad, and her dad hadnt tried calling her. It shouldnt. I have a private line just in case things go wrong usurping Shiya. Good thinking. Sloan neurally inserted a command onto her holo-display, scrolling through her contacts before settling on one: Yishi C Altair Holdings. She pressed the dial button. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Nothing. The call screen flashed INSUFFICIENT FUNDS FOR INTERGALACTIC CONNECTION before the line cut out. She stared at the screen for a second longer than necessary before exhaling through her teeth and shutting off the display. Sloan turned to Priest, then turned away as she muttered, Priest. Priest raised an eyebrow. You need to borrow a few ducats? I need to borrow a few ducats. You did not think that far, did you? II didnt think I would need this line this early. Priest said nothing, but she caught the faintest tilt of his head. A pause. Almost like hed noticed the hesitation in her voiceand wasnt expecting it. She had tried her best to not stammer over her words in her early corpo days, particularly around him. But that doesnt matter so much anymore, does it? She asked herself. He sent her the creds without further questioning. Sloan redialed. The call barely rang twice before a familiar voice picked up. Altair Holdings, Yishi speaking Yishi. I need you to do me a favor, Sloan said, in a voice so composed, demanding, almost arrogant. Sloan? Sloan then heard a sharp but interrupted inhale. I heard you def She cut herself off, clearing her throat. I mean, I heard you definitely went down with a cold and had to relocate for treatment. Im recovering. Its all good. That mustve been tough. Nobody told us anything. I couldve taken a day off to visit. It happens. So where did you relocate to? Sloan paused for a second. She could feel Priests stare boring into her ears. Somewhere with less oversight. Fresh air, too. Fresh air. Thats rare these days. I assume youre settling in well? I keep busy. I like to think so. Its not Sloan Albrecht without overworking herself. It helps to have someone who knows how to handle . . . delicate matters. Her voice was a pitch higher. So! Really, just say the word. I can pull some strings. Even get a package sent your way if you need supplies. Just tell me where to Priest whispered, Cut it off. Sloan did. The line went dead in an instant as she shut off the display. I was going to cut it off, she said in a nonchalant voice. I wont let a conversation drag on into trackable territory. Priest held her gaze for a moment longer before giving a single nod. Good. Can you believe what she just said? She scoffed. Relocating for a cold? But Priest did not reply. I have someone else, she said. But all the someones that he had were professional contacts, and as close as she think she might have been with some of them, they were just that. Professionals. Professionals that would sell her out to save their own skins. There was only one option left: call her dad. Sloan stared at the contact for a long second before pressing the dial. The line rang once. Twice. Three times. A full minute passed before the connection clicked open. She braced herself for the piercing sharpness in his voice, the immediate reprimand, the accusations. But none of that came. Instead, there was silence. The kind of silence stretched across light-years and lodged itself between unsaid words. Father, she said. Then he spoke. Sloan. He didnt sound angry. Disappointment bled through the static like eye drops dripping on her lensa second of stinging followed by a single shed of tear. It was there in the way he spoke her name, like he was tasting the weight of it and finding it odd and alien. There was another pause, long enough that she thought the connection might have dropped. But then he said, What do you need? Sloan swallowed. I need a corporate identification code registered on Bortho, Mendax-12. One that can bypass a local database restriction. I will handle that. Keep your line connected. Then he put the line on hold. Sloan let out a slow breath before glancing up at Priest. His hazy grey eyes locked somewhere just past her, as if he were considering something else entirely. He wasnt looking at her anymore, but he had been, just a second ago. That much she was sure of. A Borthan, with her wing-like membranes attached to her long limbs, glided over her head. Sloan looked up and stared at the figure above until she was out of sight. How Sloan wished she could have a pair of membranes like that and float mid-air right now. We should keep moving, she said in a lower voice. He nodded once. They walked. Chapter 39: Space Opera Boxing Match Sloans neural comms pinged her again as they neared the entrance of the archive office. Her father had resumed the call no more than five minutes later. Do you have companions with you? That was the first thing he asked. Sloan only realized then. Shed been so focused on the task at hand that she had completely forgotten to add that detail in her earlier request. Yes, she answered, her tone even, but with the slightest hint of frustration at her own lapse. One. Race-adjacent? Human. Gender? Male. There was a pause, the sound of faint breathing on the other end before he spoke again. Rojas Khaamuuri. Khaamuuri. That would be a Kestrisi surname for someone from the Southern hemisphere, and Priest wouldnt pass for a typical Kestrisi more often than not. But a Mendax representative shouldnt have this knowledge. And your name is Lanberta von Wallenstein, Sloans dad continued. Then he sent over the holo-tag. That was the only viable option. They couldnt have access to hyperweave IDs, and quantum ink markers were impossible to forge. Lanberta von Wallenstein She mused. Thank you. He cut off comms immediately. Sloan turned to Priest with a calm voice. We got our identities. Remember the name, Rojas Khaamuuri. Rojas Khaamuuri, Priest repeated the name, but his pronunciation wasnt close. Rojas Khaamuuri. Try again, she said. He repeated. It still wasnt close. The local Kestrisi dialect required more nuance than him simply brute-forcing his tongue through syllables. She shrugged. If they question, say youre an immigrant. The Grand Archive of Bortho loomed into view, a monolithic structure of dark metal and impact-resistant ceramic plating, its sharp angles accentuated by the exasperated buzzing of the gravity pillars chained to its corners. The pillars werent there to lift itno one expected the Archive to take flightbut to counteract the violent wind currents that often tore through the district. Overkill, Priest glanced up and muttered. Sloan scoffed. Just two years ago, a rogue storm break half the city. He didnt argue. Instead, he repeated the name under his breath. Rojas Khaamuuri. It was still wrong. The place looked exquisitely well-brushed, unlike the rusting ruins on most backwater worlds. There were even security drones surrounding the place instead of the ancient stationary cameras. They moved in a non-wavering trajectory, some of which never once looked at the entrance where the two were walking toward. Sloan stepped a fraction out of the designated walkway and into the artificial turf. The drone continued on as if she werent there. So this is a backwater world after all, she mused. Just care enough about protecting its own image. A woman sat near the gate. She stood, tall and poised, as she saw people approaching. She was Zvevan, or at least a descendant, who were blessed with a slight pearlescent sheen on their skins, eyes larger than a humans, and irises a deep, luminous shade of violet, Her hair, though dark, carried an almost metallic undertone that shimmered with movement like those in an inconceivably unbelievable hair shower gel commercials. There was something eerily symmetrical about her face, but that was probably because Sloan hadnt seen too many Zvevans. She regarded them with an expression that teetered between polite disinterest and mild scrutiny. Do you have a pre-arrangement? Her voice carried a measured cadence. Of course, Sloan replied. She glanced at her holo-screen on her wristband. And your names? Lanberta von Wallenstein, she said. Priest spoke, Rojas Khaamuuri. Still wrong. If the woman had noticed the mismatch in pronunciation, she hadnt shown any signs of suspicion yet. IDs? She asked. Sloan showed her their IDs. She gave both of them a quick scan. Sloan resisted the urge to peer in and saw how different the forged data was to actual personal information. Sloan could feed her heart rate rising as the lady scanned their IDs with her wrist device. Her violet eyes leafed through the projected data with all the attentiveness of someone reviewing a grocery list, and it didnt seem like she was sparing a glance at the readout. Sloan felt the tension in her shoulders spikeuntil the woman gave a slow, absent nod and waved them through. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. That was easy. Ive made a big deal out of nothing. The woman was already busy with something else, her fingers tapping idly against her device. Priest stepped forward first, and Sloan followed, not glancing back. They didnt talk about the walk-in. Sloan asked, Do you feel ghost pains, Priest? Ghost pain? The type of pain you feel when your limbs still hurt even though they arent there. The silence stretched, settling between them like a weight. She let out a quiet exhale. I thought when you wanted to tag along, it meant you had something to say. I guess I thought wrong. He didnt answer, or more correctly, his answer to her was another topic entirely. We need records on the time and date of official and unofficial Republic landings, Instead, Priest said, his voice low but sure. Flight logs, docking permits, cargo manifests. Sloan turned on the messaging function from her wristband and texted him. McPherson is not on good terms with the Republic. She kept her gaze ahead as she gave an extension to his answer, Passenger registries? If they exist, Priest replied. Though if someone was careful, they would not be listed. We will also need personnel clearance logs, maintenance requests, and if possible he glanced at her, private hangar access records. Then a message came. Are they trying to blackmail Republic with this info? Sloan clicked her tongue. Thats a stretch, she said as she finished sending a reply. Shiya Mura once asked me to send some classified information that I believe belongs to the Republic to Austjsocs. I was shocked. The two are the biggest rivals. The interior of the Grand Archive was deliberately designed to confuse outsiders. Her eyes turned to the ceiling the stretched endlessly above them, then to the stack of holoscreens lining the data towers. Vorsen-Signa 880s. The model was distinctive. Its violet interface had a slightly colder hue compared to standard displays, and the modular stands had an odd habit of flickering at the edges when subjected to long-term use. She pointed toward the leftmost corridor. That way. Priest arched a brow. Not Flight Data Access? Then came Priests reply. The last warlord I met works for McPherson. He raised an army of 4,000. The legal limit is 1,000. Thats a trap, she said, already walking. Thats where they send people who dont know better. We need Traffic Control Logs insteadevery registered landing has to go through them first. Sloan replied. How do you know? The place smelled of nothing, and sounded like the inside of a giant indexing machine. As they walked past an intersection, the ponderous drag of her sleeve against the surface seemed amplified. When she altered her stance, even the slight creak of her boot felt too loud for a split second, only to be drowned out by the steady drone of the machines. Priest answered her message. Hes Umi. The reptilian race. They reassign numbers to match actual personnel count. There was no longer any chatting. I didnt know that. Sloan replied. Then came a reply. Prove your worth, Sloan Albrecht. it said. The sender wasnt Priest. It was a private, decrypted messenger. Her decryption program had hesitate just long enough for her to realize whoever had sent this knew exactly how to bypass her security measures. Only after that did Priests next message came, Are you certain your Father is trustworthy? Sloan turned to him, wide-eyed. He had already switched out his human-like fingers for more extended, pointed ones. Stratosclaws. She had only seen those claws in Republic blueprint prototypes and never thought such redundant technology would ever be mass-produced in a world of plasma projectiles. She had no idea when or where Priest had gotten his hands on them. She realized it now. The place sounded like an indexing machine. But that was all there was to it. There was no voice. No footsteps. No clerks. No researchers. No humans. When had she last heard a voice? Then a pair of footsteps arose from the intersection behind their backs. Priest turned, and in that instant, the footsteps accelerated to an inhuman level. A blur of motion, scales catching the dim artificial glow, and thenan Umi reptilian soldier was upon them. Their HyperWeave armor, a fancier term for navy blue reinforced cloth, concealed the iridescent mix of deep green and bronze of their skin, but couldnt hide the shape of the scaly, layered ridges down their arms and across their shoulders. Priest fired. A gravitational shotsilent, precise, meant to hold the soldier mid-air in an inescapable choke. The target spectrum was much smaller than the shot he had sent to lift Sloan mid-air, but she had no doubt the concentrated power was greater. Umis mechanical arm shot forwardsimilar to Priests, but new. Custom-made. McPhersons work. The plating split apart like a flower in bloom, absorbing the gravitational shot like it was never there. No slowed momentum. Sloan stepped back on instinct, movements honed from battles long past. What in the void? Even I havent seen absorption tech that immaculate. Her hand reached for the plasma gun at her hipthe one shed swiped from Kotos henchman back on Earth. But before she could even raise it, the reptilian had already closed the distance. A punch. Priest caught the first strike, but the impact sent a metallic whine through his arm, servos straining against the force. His stance staggered and his body flailed for a second. The second punch landed clean on Priests cheek. Priest folded on impact. Before he could collapse against a server stack and set off a chain reaction of destruction, the Umi soldier caught him, lowering him to the ground with surprising care. Sloan, gun still raised, hesitated. Her eyes focused on the number plate on his chest. Number 3994. They werent here for the kill. However, fighting back was futile. There was another reptilian behind him. His reptilian features twitched as he ambled over, sharp teeth parting slightly in what could almost be called an amused snarl. I want him killed, he looked at Priests limp body on the soldiers arm. But Boss has plans. Different plans. Then he turned to Sloan. Sloan Albrecht of the Kestris-9 subdivision. A planetary criminal you are. Sloan kept her gun raised but didnt fire. A statement of fact, she said, voice level. Not a question. I am not asking, the reptilian gave her his closest version of a human smile. Let us exchange pleasantries. My name is Garnash. Character Brief

1. Fang

  • Age: 75 (the average lifespan of a human is 500)
  • Homeworld: Earth (Tianjing Monarchy, formerly China)
  • Languages: Fluent in ISL (Intergalactic Standard Language), Mandarin, swears in six other dialects
  • Specialty: Pilot, hacker, shit-stirrer
Fang is a born-and-raised Earthling, specifically from what used to be Chinauntil the whole Tianjing Monarchy thing happened a century ago. The country rebranded under a dynasty-style rule (another flavor of megacorporate overlordship). Fang didnt exactly vibe with it, so she ran. Ran fast, ran far, and now she runs ships for a living.
  • Personality: Fang is fastfast talker, fast thinker, fast to shove the throttle when she shouldnt. Shell hack her way out of anything but prefers to do it with flair. She owes money to a lot of people, mostly because she believes in high-risk, high-reward investment schemes (they are neither high-reward nor good investments).
  • Notable Traits:
    • Can fly anything with an engine, sometimes even things without one.
    • Has a boyfriend, which shocks everyone because shes usually more committed to caffeine than human relationships.
    • Once tried to get into Neural Bond Speculation and lost all her money. Everyone still makes fun of her for it.

2. Gravel

  • Age: 130
  • Homeworld: Earth (Formerly Argentina, now under South American Confederacy)
  • Languages: ISL, Earth Standard, Spanish, grumbling
  • Specialty: Captain, muscle, grand champion of stupid plans
Gravel is from what was once Argentina, back when it was still a country and not just a sector of the South American Confederacy. He did a stint in deep-space salvage, got into a few fights, stole a ship (or three), and ended up the de facto captain of the Black Fang just because he was the first one out of all of them to get himself a vessel. He didnt exactly plan to be a career outlaw, but things just kept happening (mostly his fault).
  • Personality: Hes got big older brother energy, the kind that would let you touch an electric fence just to see what happens. Loud, confident, and morally flexible, but has a weirdly strong sense of loyaltyif youre his crew, youre family, even if he spends half the time arguing with you.
  • Notable Traits:
    • Cannot go five minutes without cracking a joke, even when getting shot at.
    • Despises corpo types but somehow keeps ending up in business with them.
    • Had a family once. Doesnt talk about them. Ever. The only hint he gives is in the way he never shoots to kill first unless absolutely necessarylike some part of him still believes in a line he shouldnt cross.

3. Hunter

  • Age: 128
  • Homeworld: Haret (Earths so-called sibling planet)
  • Languages: ISL, Earth Standard, Haret dialects, sighing deeply
  • Specialty: Fixing broken shit, tactics, making sure Gravel doesnt die
Haret was humanitys Plan B, discovered in the early 2300s orbiting Gliese 667 Cca super-Earth with just enough habitability to make colonization viable. In 2400, a bunch of people looked at Earths skyrocketing costs of living and said, Screw it, lets build a mega-billion spaceship and get off. The first waves of settlers were desperate, stubborn, and willing to live in near-unbreathable air just to escape Earths corporate chokehold. Fair play to them, Haret actually ends up rather democratic at most places. Hunter comes from that scrappy, make-it-work lineage. She doesnt believe in luck, only good planning and backup plans for the backup plans. Shed rather be in the wild than on a ship, but somehow, she bought it when Gravel invited her on-board. Not sure if she regrets it. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
  • Personality: If Hunter had a motto, itd be Fine, Ill do it myself. Shes practical, level-headed, and not amused by most of Gravels antics, but shes still here, so that says something.
  • Notable Traits:
    • Collects limited-edition soda cans from across galaxies. Drinks maybe half of them. The rest? Stored in pristine condition, labeled, and cataloged like museum artifacts.
    • Has pen pals all over the solar systems. Some are old friends. Some are criminals. A few might be royalty. No one knows how she keeps up with all of them, but she does.
    • Has a personal vendetta against vending machines. Claims she lost a small fortune to one on Haret as a kid. No ones sure if shes joking.

4. Sloan

  • Age: 147
  • Homeworld: Kestris-9
  • Languages: ISL, Orkashi, Karami, Earth Standard, and the languages of 5 distinct races
  • Specialty: Corporate Standard, subtle threats
Born and raised on Kestris-9, a mid-tier corporate-controlled planet in the Vei Accord system. Known for its dense, smog-laden cities and rigid corporate hierarchy, Kestris-9 breeds professionals who are as sharp as they are cutthroat. People dont ask how you got to the toponly if you can stay there. Shes a Menscha human-like race with subtle differences: slightly heightened senses, a faintly iridescent sheen to their skin under UV light, and a biological resistance to certain toxins. Most Earthlings wouldnt notice unless they were looking.
  • Notable Traits:
    • Ex-Corporate Operative: Used to work for McPherson Dynamics, climbing the ranks through competence and adaptability. Good at reading people. Even better at making sure they dont read her.
    • Hates inefficiency but somehow ended up on the Black Fang. She has accepted her fate. Mostly.
    • Unnervingly still when thinking. Can sit in absolute silence for hours, barely moving. Freaks people out.
    • Terrible at casual conversation. Ask her about interstellar trade policies, and shell monologue for an hour. Ask her how her day is, and she malfunctions.

5. Priest

  • Age: 228
  • Homeworld: Vorlun Prime (A mixed human-alien colony)
  • Species: Half-Human, Half-Vorlani (yeah alien races all start with V here)
  • Languages: Too many, but doesnt brag about it
Priest isnt fully humanhes half-Vorlani, a species that coexisted with humans on Vorlun Prime, a planet colonized centuries ago. Vorlani are biologically compatible with humans, but they have a few quirks:
  • Higher neural processing speedsPriest can process data like a computer.
  • Darkened sclera & silver irises, a Vorlani genetic trait.
  • Extends lifespan, meaning at 228, Priest is still considered early middle-aged.
Priest shouldve been a scientist, a diplomat, or something important, but he chose to become an outlaw strategist instead because of circumstances. He thinks in probabilities, but no matter how much he claims hes just running the numbers, its obvious he actually cares about the crew.
  • Personality: Priest is calm, calculated, and probably the only real adult in the room. He doesnt raise his voicehe doesnt have to. His dry humor cuts sharper than a knife, and his patience is staggering (except when dealing with Gravel).
  • Notable Traits:
    • A walking supercomputer. His Velkarii heritage gives him near-perfect recall, and his cybernetic enhancements only make it worse. Good luck lying to himhe remembers things you said five years ago, word for word.
    • Deeply pragmatic, annoyingly unbothered. You could tell him the ships on fire, and hed probably just say, Expected. Vent the lower decks.
    • Has no personal ambition. Lives by probabilities and logic. Everything is just a game of odds to him, which makes him both the best and worst person to ask for advice.
    • Was backstabbed twiceonce by Sloan when they worked together on Kestris, once by a partner back in Vorlun. Remembers every single detail of both betrayals but doesnt hold a grudge. People act in self-interest. Its unreasonable to take it personally. (Gravel thinks this is the coldest shit hes ever heard.)
Chapter 40: Space Opera Interior Design Zarqball was an awesome sport. The ball itself was a pulsating orb that could shift in size and speed at the drop of a hat, making it nearly impossible to predict. The final moments of the match were insane. The ball expanded to the size of a boulder, the gravity cut out entirely, and what shouldve been a clean last-second goal turned into an all-out wrestling match in mid-air as players desperately grappled for control. The buzzer rang. The crowd went wild. Final score? The home team won by one point, but nobody could agree on whether that was justified. That goal shouldve been disallowed, said Gravel as he, Xaxx, and Nastija blended into the crowd of people jostling at the exit. It was completely legal, Xaxxs voice echoed through the mask covering his face. The polished steel of his mask caught the flashing stadium lights as he turned. The ball was still in play when the gravity cut! You cant penalize someone for adapting faster. Adapting? Gravel scoffed. He dropkicked the goalie. The guy celebrated mid-air before the ball even crossed the line. He knew theyd let it slide. Nastija shrugged. Why do you have to be so opinionated about a sport you both watch for the first time? Its called competitive spirit, Gravel said. You wouldnt get it. Oh, I get it, Nastija gave him an amused upturn of her lips. Youre just mad because your bet didnt pay off. Gravels jaw tightened. Thats notWait. He checked the clock in his wristband. 14:22. Shit. I missed check-in time with the crew. He checked the teams private comm channel, but there wasnt anything. No call log. No text. Surely nothing bad couldve happened in 3 hours, right? If anything happened, they wouldve called. But its kind of weird that nobody checked in. He typed out a quick message. [Gravel]: Check-in. Everyone still breathing? A second passed. Then two. Then five. No response. Gravel frowned, tapping his fingers against his shoulder. [Gravel]: I have root beer. Answer in the next five minutes. That should suffice. They managed to get out of the stadium after another five minutes. Xaxx, who had been standing beside him with the patience of a man watching paint dry, spoke, Well, Captain Gravel, since you appear to be tragically homeless at the moment, I extend a most gracious invitation for you to experience what its like to exist inside a ship that doesnt smell like burnt wiring and bad decisions. Hed learned that the Black Fang was in the air at the moment. Gravel rolled his eyes. You really know how to make a good impression, Captain Xaxx. Xaxx led the way back to Karakoia with his casual confidence. Nastija followed a step behind, hands tucked into her coat pockets, her gaze darting toward Gravel every so often. They moved away from the standard docking station, weaving through a quieter section of the port. Unlike the usual ship berths, where vessels were stacked in open-air lots or docked against towering steel platforms, this part of the facility had a different feel. The lighting was softer, the air smelled less like fission reactor waste, and reinforced shielding lined the walls. Gravel raised an eyebrow. You renting out private parking now? They offer it, Xaxx replied. Xaxx led the way up the ramp, and the ships entry hatch sealed behind them without a sound. Damn. This kind of tech is too advanced to announce itself. Gravel didnt trust anything that quiet. The South American blood in him only trusted hatches that rumbled, shouted, or at least played a guitar solo before sealing shut. The interior greeted him with its smooth metal, disco dance hall lighting, not a single loose panel in sight. A lounge sat at the middle of the ship like a nerve center with what looked suspiciously like a game of interstellar chess running in the background. There were quite a few different paper posters on the wall, with the biggest one featuring a black-and-red spacecraft mid-drift through an asteroid field, a Republic-era racing poster with the tagline: VELOCITY IS A STATE OF MIND. Next to it was a vintage advertisement for some Old World luxury bourbon brand in golden lettering. The cockpit door was already open when Gravel walked inor maybe there had never been a door at all. The lounge and cockpit blended together in one seamless space, and Gravel questioned the emergency protocol for when someone wanted to brute-force their way into the control room. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Nastijas glance at Gravel wasnt so subtle anymore. She was dead set on getting a certain reaction from Gravel, but he wasnt sure what she was expecting. A ship was a ship. It either flew, or it didnt. And Xaxx wasnt exactly hiding his tendency toward extravagance. Gravel took a slow glance around as they stepped into the main cabin. No third set of boots. No extra jackets slung over chairs. The entire ship was built for a crew, but no crew existed. Just Xaxx and Nastija. He exhaled. So whend you fire everybody? Xaxx didnt look up as he moved toward the cockpit. Didnt hire them to begin with. Gravel raised an eyebrow. What, you run this whole thing with just the two of you? Nastija plopped into a chair, and pulled out a few cans of drinks from somewhere. Gravel forgot to look. I run this whole thing. She tossed a drink to Gravel, and he caught it. It was Grosmunster, the cheap synthetic beer that was popular throughout the Gliese star systems because they were cheaper than water. Xaxx replied, She presses two buttons, sometimes three. Something about the fact that there were only two of them made his fingers itch. Gravel briefly considered the relationship these two might had or have had with each other, then was reminded that he and Hunter essentially shared the same space between themselves for years. With that in mind, Xaxx and Nastija werent that bizarre anymore. Okay, time for real talk. Xaxx gestured toward one of the lounge chairs. Sit down, he said, his tone even. We have a problem. Gravel took his time, scanning the place again before finally sinking into the chair. The upholstery had that unsettling too-smooth feeling of top-tier synthetic leather, like it had never been broken in by real people. Maybe it hadnt. Xaxx leaned back, resting an arm on the side of his seat, and propped one leg on his thigh. Vanje has vanished. Thats nothing new. No, Xaxxs gaze sharpened. Hes really vanished. Gravel tilted his head. Vanjes entire life is running and hiding. Its his default state of being. Thats like saying a fish has vanished into the ocean. For the last ten years, Ive had a direct line to him. He never once begged for help. But a day before I went looking for you, he sent me his emergency contact list. There were no burner accounts and no shell companies rerouting his funds. Thats wack, but you know whats more wack? Your name was at the top. My name? Gravel furrowed his brow. His posture stiffened. Ive barely talked to him since last year. His life must be pretty depressing if Im his first emergency contact. I dont know what the problem is. Do you? Xaxxs voice dropped by a pitch. If you dont, you should. There are five other names on that list. Theyve all been crossed out. Gravel stared at Xaxx for a good second, then let out a gruff grunt. Names crossed out can mean a whole host of things, Captain Xaxx. Maybe those who have pets arent invited. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he continued, Maybe its a secret lottery where only the luckiest bastards get to claim a million ducats. It probably means theyre dead, Captain Gravel, Nastija said, cracking open her own drink. Gravels fingers drummed against the can in his hand. Dead, huh? He wanted to find something clever to retort, but couldnt find any. Instead, he found his fingers heavy, like he was losing control of them. Vanje wasnt a fighter. Vanjes associates? Likely wimps as well. The potential serial killer, by association? Probably also a wimp. I could handle them. How might I be able to handle a serial killer knocking on my door? Could I handle them? He didnt like the ring to the word dead. Then Xaxx sighed. No, theyre not dead. Gravel blinked. What? Theyre alive, Xaxx said, leaning back against his seat. As far as I know, anyway. Nastija made a small, amused noise as she took a sip of her drink. Didnt take you for a jokester. Gravel squinted as he turned to Nastija. She is, if you enjoy nearly dying from the so-called jokes she makes, Xaxx also turned to her with the same squint Gravel had on his face. So whats wrong with the other contacts? Gravel cracked open the can of Grosmunster. The synthetic beer fizzed up like it was trying to escape the can. He took a sip and grimaced. It tasted like the color beige. Xaxx knitted his fingers together. They just turn out to be untrustworthy assholes. That leaves you, a wanted criminal, as our only lead. Way to warm up to someone youre asking a favor of. Something crawled on the back of his head, like that stubborn strand of nose hair he would see on someone elses nostril, lingering in your vision and you had no way to get rid of it. A pang of guilt. He had rarely felt guilty toward anyone who wasnt part of his crew, but he couldnt help but think that whatever trouble Vanje had gotten himself into might have been a result of their visits. I mean, I have your criminal status to thank. If your name wasnt on that wanted bulletin board, I wouldnt have pinned down your location that quickly. They had Sloan to thank for that criminal status. Alright, Gravel put the can down. If you show me proof of your relationship with Vanje, Ill tell you where I last saw him. On one condition. Spit it, Xaxx said. How good are you at tracking someone down? Chapter 41: Space Opera Cruise Vacation (Fang) Their landing had been good. Lokoaes main docking station, Asaad, stood three hundred feet above sea level, and was held up by the same gravitational anchors as those on Bortho, if not a slightly older, more temperamental made and model. The stations automated guidance systems took over the final descent, easing the Black Fang into its designated berth with only the slightest shudder. Asaad was old, the same way her grandmother was old, Fang thought. The framework of its multi-tiered platform was either scaffolded, rusted, or tarnished from the exposure to the elements, specifically the briny tang of high salinity ocean spray being carried hundreds of feet into the air. Fang remembered how her grandmother had refused to wipe the table with anything other than that exact concoction of potentially lethal salted liquid, to the point that the table was reduced to no more than a patchwork of warped wood and crystallized salt crusts that occasionally fell off like patches of dandruff on her grandfathers forehead. Fangs grandmothers obsession with salt-curing her furniture every evening had gotten so severe that her son had to replace it with a corrosion-proof alloy table, the kind advertised to withstand everything from acid rain to deep-space radiation. The sales pitch had boasted Impervium?: The Last Table Youll Ever Need! with flashy graphics of laser blasts bouncing harmlessly off its surface. Turned out, that table was not fireproof. Her family had always said that Fang took after her grandmother. What are you thinking about? Asked Hunter. Only then did Fang realize that her heads were resting on her hands and her elbows were resting on the console. Shed been gazing out the cockpit window, staring idly at the rusted spires which rose and fell with the atmospheric turbulence. Nothing, Fang replied, a bit too quickly. Hunter gave her a sideways glance. You had your brooding face on. I dont brood, Fang shot back. Hunter stared at her for another moment, then sighed. You know, you couldve used all that thinking time to just get some sleep instead. Also, the dockies are asking us why we arent exiting. Well arent those guys an impatient bunch. They barely handle more than five ships a day, but act like were holding back the entire star system! Fang huffed. As she stood, Hunter slung her backpack over her shoulders again, and the straps routinely settled into place. Fang, ever the tech-savvy one, had taken more than a few curious glances at it over time. She was rather confident in her knowledge of hardware and engineering, but she had never seen tech quite like it. How the hell did you cram four appendages, a self-stabilizing gravity module, and three separate tool pouches into a single pack? Shed asked. But Hunter had just smiled back. They stepped off the ramp, earning a few well-deserved scowls from the dockworkers, who also possessed membrane-like wings like local Borthans. Fang, completely undeterred, clapped her hands together. Alright, listen up. Youre gonna wanna check the aft stabilizers firsthad a bit of a wobble on landing, so make sure the calibrations still within a three-degree tolerance. Then theres the coolant cycle in the starboard thruster. Ran a little hot, so flush the secondary vents before refueling. And dont even get me started on the dorsal platingI swear, one more microfracture and the whole panels gonna start rattling like a tin can in a sandstorm. Oh! And check the inertial dampeners! Theyve been acting weird since The scowls deepened. One dockie massaged his temples. Another crossed his arms and stared at the ship. He was probably going to do something to it later, and Fang would most probably not approve of that something. Yeah, yeah, we got it, one waved her off. Fang grinned. Great! Ill be back to double-check your work. The moment she turned back to Hunter, she bemoaned, Why does the bad guy have to be named Gonzo?She could not stop thinking about Kais pet who, unfortunately, shared the same name as this shady individual. Hunter loaded up a holo-map of the city from her wristband, and they walked out of the docking station and into the streets. Their destination was The Sink, a partially-submerged district where the streets sagged under the weight of failing infrastructure and desperate adaptation. An absolutely horrific, and equally fitting place for a meet-up. Lokoae was even less pedestrian-friendly than Bortho. Every step felt slightly wrong, and the vertical sprawl of suspended platforms and floating marketplaces tethered by little more than wishful thinking and fraying cables did not do much to assure Fang of her steps. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Hunter glanced at her holo-map as she kept walking. Looks like were going down three levels and She frowned. hopping across... something. Something? Fang repeated. Hunter traced her hand on the holo-map, and after a second, pointed to motorized barge waiting at the docks edge. She hopped over and jumped on the machine, waving at Fang to come along. The thing did not look operational, its rusted metal deck sagging under her weight. Its pilot, a tired-looking amphibian, sat slouched at the controls, clicking his tongue. This is your first time in The Sink, aye? the pilot croaked. His accent was particularly phlegmy and difficult to hear, possibly because his throat was coated in whatever sludge passed for air down here. Hunter leaned forward slightly, trying to catch his words. Something like that. The pilot huffed and flipped a few switches, and the engine coughed its lungs off before settling into an unsteady chug. Best keep your hands to yourself, then. And your feet. If you got a tail, keep that in check too, hai? Hunter turned to Fang and said, Hands and feet to yourself. Are we clear? Fang completely disregarded both their warnings, stepped onto the barge, and grimaced as it wobbled under her. This thing has a weight limit, right? The pilot let out a wheezing laugh. Limit? Aint that a funny word. Aint nobody fallen through yet. Fangs eyes narrowed. Yet? The barge lurched forward, and Fang slammed her forehead against a bronze metal pole protruded from the side. Son of a She staggered back, clutching her forehead. You couldnt have warned me? Hunter barely held back a snort. I thought you were supposed to be quick on your feet. The pilot let out a hoarse chuckle. Watch where youre going, aye. You dont wanna be the one that finally knocks it apart. Fang shot him a glare before rubbing her forehead, cursing in Mandarin in the process. The barge continued its slow, uneasy trek, and the water below rippled with streaks of oil, debris, and whatever organic that had been unfortunate enough to fall into the water recently. Hunter leaned against the barges railing, watching as they drifted past the shanty-like structures lining the edge of The Sink. The buildings were cobbled together from scrap metal, old shipping containers, and whatever salvageable heaps of scraps these creatures seemed to have found. A shirtless man with glowing cybernetic veins lounged on a rooftop, chewing on something suspiciously wriggling. A child next to him, no older than six, held a fishing line over the edge of a rickety balcony, reeling in something that looked more teeth than fish. Six was a really, really young age, but if he had been twenty years older, there would have been no way to tell. There were usually little physical differences between a thirty-year-old and say, a seventy-five-year-old. Many only started physically decaying at the age of 200. Would be especially annoying to wear it in a place like this, Hunter muttered. Fangs brow raised. What it? A dress, Hunter said, nodding toward the waterlogged streets. Imagine trying to wade through all this in some fancy, trailing thing. Youd be dragging half the citys filth with you. I have never seen you in a dress. Though I could see you in one of those high-slit numbers. Hair down. Maybe a little eyeliner. Hunter gave her a flat look. Why does every conversation with you turn into me wearing something impractical? Fang grinned. You ever wear one? She didnt reply. The barge groaned as it pulled up alongside a cracked concrete ledge and sloshed the water against the support beams beneath. Hunter hopped off first, landing on solid ground with a relieved sigh. Fang followed, giving the deck a final glance, as if making sure it wouldnt collapse the second she left. Their destination was one of the rare dry sections of The Sink, where the streets werent completely swallowed by murky water. The ground was particularly newfangled, consisting of glassy stone veined with blue streaks. The material that Fang didnt know the name of, but knew was native to Mendax-12, was tough enough to withstand decades of corrosion yet smooth enough to reflect the neon glow from overhead signs. Though rare in most parts of the galaxy, here it was scavenged and repurposed like any other scrap, forming a striated mosaic beneath their feet. At least it didnt shift or creak like the barge. Wheres the man were supposed to meet? Fang asked. That man was their lead, an acquaintance of Raiq, the acquaintance of Hunter. Hunter hadnt even given a name, much less a solid description. When Fang pressed her for details earlier, she just sighed and relayed what Raiq had told her: Oh, youll know him when you see him. Hes got that looklike a man whos been awake for three days straight but isnt allowed to act tired. Kind of hunched, too. Hairs too short for long, too long for short, like someone cut it in a hurry and regretted it halfway through. That had sounded spectacularly unhelpful. Why ask me? Find him with me, Hunter replied. But now, as they inspected the crowd, Fangs gaze landed on a man leaning against a rust-streaked bulkhead. He was slouching in a way that suggested he wanted to fold himself into a smaller shape, and his uneven haircut looked like itd lost a wrestling match against a dull blade. And he had golden irises. Guy has yellow eyes! Fang threw her hands in the air. Your fling couldve told us that! Hes not a fling. Hes a strategic partner, Hunter corrected. But did you kiss? Hunter adjusted her pack. Unimportant. Chapter 42: Space Opera Private Detective Fang scoffed, but pushed no further. Instead, she started skipping toward the man with golden eyes, Hunter following at a more measured pace. He noticed them approaching and offered a nod, the kind you gave strangers you werent interested in talking to. Afternoon, he muttered. Fang opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, then closed it, then turned to Hunter. I forgot the code. The man squinted at her. Hunter, unfazed, gave the subtle cue, the agreed-upon phrase. A ship runs fastest when its got no brakes. The mans casual demeanor vanished. His slouch straightened, his golden irises sharpened, and a barely perceptible smirk touched his lips. When he spoke again, it was with crisp precision. Then I hope your pilot knows how to steer. Hunter allowed herself a small nod. We should talk. He glanced around once, then jerked his head toward a narrow alley between cargo crates. Follow me. He turned and walked. He led them through the maze of stacked cargo crates, weaving between the occasional blinking security light. Eventually, he stopped in front of a storage unit with a keypad lock, punched in a sequence, and gestured them inside. Inside was a fully functioning roomfar more than the drab exterior suggested. A cot sat in the corner, neatly made, and a small table held an assortment of tools, data pads, peculiar rectangular slabs, and a half-eaten meal that smelled of powdered turmeric. Fangs eyes landed on a peculiar object resting by the bedsidea cylindrical contraption with thin, curling filaments emerging from the top, glowing faintly azure. Uh. What is that? she asked, pointing. He followed her gaze. Hair cleanser. She blinked. Thats a hairbrush? No, it cleans your hair. Clean water is rare here, so we dont wash our hair. You just hold it near your head and it pulls the grime out. Fang made a face. Thats horrifying. Can we get one for my friend here so she stays away from the shower? He proceeded to pretend Fangs question didnt exist. So. Youre looking for Gonzo Kashiwagi. Hunter nodded. You know where he is? The man shrugged. Gonzos a careful man, and he never makes anything a routine, so if he sleeps in the same place twice, its because hes got five different exits planned. He tapped a finger against his arm. That said, he does have a few semi-regular haunts, and one in particular stands out, which is a snargu shop down in the lower markets. He talked as though he forgot what a full stop was. Fang squinted. What the hell is a snargu? He blinked, then tilted his head like shed just asked what water was. You dont know snargu? Fang threw up her hands. Clearly not! He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Think of a fish, an aquatic species from Earth, and snargu are not much different, except they have six fins. But we must talk about the shop, which has no official name, just a bright green awning and a guy out front whos missing half his teeth. Then he proceeded to drop the location and other useful information, such as the fact that he was last seen wearing a oversized dark brown hooded synth-leather coat, his physical descriptions, and the sidearms he could have on him. Hunter thanked him for the information and turned to leave. Before they leave, the man gave them his last farewell. For some reason, none of the local factions seems to want to touch Gonzo, so you might want to keep that in mind and always be on the lookout for whoever is watching his back. And one more thing, he is very good at running. Fang grumbled then turned to Hunter, but Hunter said nothing. *** The snargu shop didnt have a name, just like the guy had said. It barely even had a storefrontjust a makeshift stall wedged between two actual buildings, covered by a drooping green awning that looked like it had seen better centuries. A metal grill separated the cooking area from the customers, and behind it, a hunched man with half his teeth missing tended to a row of sizzling skewers that oddly barely had any smell. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Fang eyed her food with a scrunched-up nose, poking at it. Shed taken a bite out of it, and it had been the only bite so far. I dont know what I was expecting, but this might be worse. Hunter wasnt listening. Knowing she wasnt listening, Fang sighed and leaned back, staring at the charred skewer like it had personally wronged her. You know, I once had to eat Earthling-Inspired Food at Ramustus Us cafeteria. Youd think with their budget, they could at least get the basic concept of human food right, but no. They somehow managed to make spaghetti feel like it was judging me. Fang pressed on. I dont even know where they found some of those ingredients. You ever had pasta that glowed? I asked the chef what was in it, and he just gave me a nervous laugh and walked away. Like, why are you scared? Im the one eating it. Also, I think one of the sauces was alive. Hunter gave a slow nod. Mhm. She had her arms crossed, staring down at her comm. Her plate of food, though, was completely cleared. Fang raised a brow. Youre doing the serious face. You only do that when youre about to say something I wont like. Hunter glanced up. Its nearing 14:00. Check-in time. Fang gave her an unimpressed look. And? And Im thinking of calling Gravel and Priest to call off the Gonzo lead. Fang made a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. Were here for the boon and the bounty, not the bad decisions, Hunter. Its not a bad decision, Hunter said with an even tone. This guys being left alone for a reason. No ones touching him, not the local factions, not the mercs, not even the bottom-feeders. Thats a bad sign. And I need you in a safehouse. The fact was, Hunter had been planning to handle the meeting solo, and Fang had forced her way into coming along, arguing that backup, however subtle, was better than nothing. Hunter knew she just wanted to try out the snargu, but had agreed anyway. She was dead sure nobody was going to show up in that short a window, and once the first check-in came, she would just push to call the entire thing off. Fang crossed her arms. And if we back out now, whats our alternative? Sit on our asses and hope something better comes along? Its not like we have a big chance of running into this guy in the first place. Are we just gonna sit in this shop for days? Fang opened her mouth, about to argue further, but then she saw a guy in an oversized dark brown hooded synth-leather coat. Dark hair, dark eyes, compact built, narrow jawline, and the kind of slender-fit build that relied on agility over musclehe was just like the description. You were saying? Fang gritted her lips to stop herself from grinning. He came in, ordered food, then sat at a table like a normal, law-abiding citizen. It didnt take long for his food to arrive in aluminum foil. Hed ordered takeaway. Fang kept her voice low. Do we tail him? Hunter didnt answer right away. Her fingers tapped against her arm in thought. Lets see if hes alone first. As the man stood up and made his way toward the exit, Hunters gaze sharpened. She scanned the shops interior. Of the few patrons inside, no one moved to follow him. No one seemed particularly interested in him at all. She watched his reflection in the shops grease-streaked window as he stepped outside, checked both ways, then started down the street at a steady, unhurried pace. Hunter pushed away from the table. Move to a secure location. Stay in contact through comms. Track my movements through Birds Eye. Fang scowled but didnt argue, pulling up her comm to sync the map. Hunter was already out of the shop. She waited another minute before stepping outside, adjusting her boots before strolling toward the safehousethe hotel room theyd booked. Hunter was already a moving dot on the grid, heading southeast through a narrow commercial strip. The streets here were dense but orderly, packed with rows of prefab structures stacked three stories high. They were the kind of buildings that had been slapped together economically: cramped storefronts on the bottom, housing or storage on top, and a mini gravity anchor slapped on every second floor. Fangs thumb traced over the map, watching Gonzos potential exits. Alright. Hes got three clean breakaways, she murmured into comms. Firstmain street up ahead. Its gonna open into a market square, tons of foot traffic. If he gets spooked, he could lose you in the crowd. She zoomed out. Second, theres a service alley running parallel two blocks west. If he knows the area, he might cut through there and slip out the other side. A flick of her fingers over the screen. Third optiontheres an overpass ramp connecting to the lower district. Its a bit of a climb, but if he makes a run for it, youll lose him the second he blends into the undercity. She couldve provided more information had she had Gonzo on the map too, but that was all she could do for now. Okay. Stay connected. Ill ask when I need more info, Hunter replied. Fang stepped into the hotel, shaking off the lingering street dust as the door slid shut behind her. She pulled up her comm, checking the sync. Hunter was still tracking southeast, and Gonzo was nowhere on the grid. She could only wait. She strolled toward the elevator, hands in her pockets, but then, a movement at the front desk caught her eye. A man was checking out. Average height, slightly overweight, and dressed in a plain dark coat. A mask covered the lower half of his face, the kind of cheap, disposable local mask that blended in, especially in places with bad air like Lokoae. But his eyes were half-lidded, watchful, but never hurried. She shivered. She knew those eyes. Liu Jiye. Chapter 43: Space Opera Acrobatics Hunters target started acting odd. His pace quickened by half a step, his shoulders squared just a little tighter, and he stopped glancing at storefronts like a normal pedestrian would. Instead, his head stayed level, eyes forward, and walked with the casual pace of someone who needed themselves to look casual. Shit. Hunter slowed her own pace, keeping her posture relaxed. This place was particularly empty, and the crowded market was up ahead, so if she wanted to make a daring move, this was the time. She whispered into comms, Target is twitchy. If he takes the alley west, Im breaking off. Or Ill need a reroute. There was no answer. Fang? She asked again. Not a time for a nap, Fang. She sent her a ping. But Fang still didnt reply. Fang wasnt the type to ghost her mid-mission, but the chance of her being in danger was also minimal. She should be at the safehouse, and it wasnt not like they were pulling some high-stakes infiltration. They were just tailing a guy. A guy who, as far as all intel suggested, wasnt that importantjust a mid-level fixer running errands. Did her wristband malfunction? She kept her posture casual, careful not to lift her wrist and draw attention. A quick glance down confirmed that the signal lights were steady, with no interference. It was working fine. But when she looked back up Gonzo was gone. Hunters pulse jumped. The street was a straight line with no immediate turns, just buildings on both sides. There was no way hed made it to the next intersection that fast. No way hed sprinted out of view in the single second shed looked away. A clanking sound resounded from above. Then Hunters instincts screamed at herlook up. Gonzo was on the walls. His mechanical appendages shot from his sleeves like grappling hooks latching onto the walls. The segmented limbs retracted and extended in rapid bursts, hauling him skyward. Mid-level fixer, my ass. Then, Hunters instinct willed her to move. She elbowed an exact spot on her backpack. Metal appendages shot down, clamped around her legs in a snug, armor-like grip. Pistons locked into place, tensing her leg muscles as servos whirred. The moment her feet hit the wall, the system kicked in. Zero-G balance pre-set engaged. Her first step defied gravity. Then the second. Then the third. She ran straight up like a mountain goat, feet gripping onto the sheer surface as if it were solid ground. The reinforced joints absorbed the impact, redistributing momentum so she could push off at angles only thought possible for species like a Glutak. Above her, Gonzo moved like a spider on overdrive. He spun midair like a space ballerina, detached, then re-anchored himself higher up in a blur of motion. She pushed off the wall, launching sideways onto a vent pipe, then kicked off that to gain altitude. The servos in her makeshift suit whined as it absorbed the impact. Gonzo twisted his head to glance at her. She could almost hear his thought processHow the hell is she keeping up? She bared her teeth in a grin. Then, Gonzo let go. For a split second, Hunter thought hed lost his grip. But no. He wanted to fall. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. He twisted again, slingshotting himself downward. Right at her. Gonzo came at her boot-first. She rebounded off protruding ledges, catching the edge of a window frame as he rocketed past. The impact of his landing cracked the wall where she had been an instant ago. The moment his feet hit the wall, his appendages shot out again, stabbing into the structure like harpoons. The cables snapped taut. He bent his knees, then the appendages retracted, catapulting him straight up. He flipped at the peak of his ascent, twisting like a gymnast. His boots caught the very edge of a rooftop railing, and with a final push, he was on the roof. Hunter hissed. Fine. If he wanted to pull some ridiculous aerial stunt, shed take the direct approach. Her mechanical supports adjusted, gripping tighter around her legs. The world tilted, gravity skewing in her favor. She sprinted straight up. Windows, ledges, old signagenone of it mattered. Her feet barely touched the surface before launching her further at an unnatural speed. She wasnt climbing. She was galloping, like some kind of mountain predator chasing prey. Gonzo had barely steadied himself on the roof when she crested the edge. She kicked off the last ledge, clearing the final gap in a single boundthen landed with a stout thud, crouched low, weight balanced. Gonzos head snapped toward her. His eyes widened, possibly the largest they had ever been in their lives. Hunter grinned. Bad move, buddy. He should really have headed for the crowd. Gonzo mustve realized the same thing a second too late. He shouted something, in a non-Japanese language Hunter didnt understand but was sure shed heard it somewhere before, spun on his heel, and bolted. The low gravity of Mendax turned the rooftops into a playground. His mechanical appendages shot out again, not to climb this time, but to fling him forward. He cleared the first gap, landing on the next roof with barely a sound. Another jumpanother ledgehis boots barely kissed the edges before he kicked off again. Grinding both her heels against the ground, Hunter turned off the artificial weight of her boots. She cursed and lunged after him. No grappling, no harpoon tricks. Just raw speed. Her enhanced legs absorbed the momentum of her sprint and launched her forward. First gap, then second gap cleared. Her adjustments for low gravity had been correct. She was turbo, but still landed at places shed intended. He has tech. A similar kind of appendages to what I have. And I havent heard a word from Fang. Fuck. I shouldnt have chased after him. Gonzo twisted as if he had no spine, firing his appendages at a distant billboard. The cables yanked him sideways mid-flight, sending him spinning onto another roof at an impossible angle. The sheer audacity of it almost made Hunter laugh. Almost. Because now she had to land. She tilted her weight and let the Zero-G balance system do its job. She hit the rooftop at a dead sprint and kept moving. Gonzo changed tactics. He was still running, still leaping rooftop to rooftop, but his appendages? No longer for movement. Somethings up. She elbowed her backpack again. Two spare appendages folded out, snaking down her arms and wrapping around her palms like segmented, armored gloves. One of Gonzos appendages snapped. The harpoon-like limb shot toward her. She caught it barehanded. A burst of orange firelight exploded from the friction. Her fingers clenched around the retracting cable before Gonzo could yank it back. Her feet skidded, her body lurchedbut she held on. Then the tension snapped. Literally. With a sharp whine of metal under stress, Gonzo severed his own appendage. The cable recoiled, flailing in the air like a dying serpent before falling limp. His sleeve went with it, ripping clean off. For the briefest second, Hunter didnt register the symbol on him. She was too focused on the fact that hed actually ditched a piece of himself just to escape her hold. But then The tattoo. It sprawled across his upper arm in a swirling, interwoven pattern of dark lines and luminous silver accents that pulsed faintly under the neon skyline. At its center lay a diamond-like shape, split down the middle by a thin, branching fissureveins of light threading through dark ink, like cracked glass under pressure. Arcs and jagged points surrounded it, giving the design a restless sense of motionas if caught mid-transformation. A star exploding. A bird frozen in the instant of flight. Strokas. And that appendage? The severed limb had shot from a backpack, one so slim and flush against his spine that it was nearly invisible beneath his coat. Turned out him wearing an oversized coat wasnt just a terrible fashion choice. Her body stopped before her mind could catch up. The chase, the rooftop sprint, the fire of pursuit. They all evaporated in an instant. Gonzo jumped. With one final leap off the rooftop, he vanished into the abyss below.