Zaroff Cargo Hold - FarSky Station - August 8th, 2691
A sudden, bright light burned through the darkness and made Raktet squeeze his eyes shut. He was young for a NorAellian out on his NorLyn DruuThra, only 90 years old, but things had been going well until a few days ago. That was when he had met Aaylen, a free Lyndri who was also trying to find her way in the galaxy. They had hit it off in a big way until last night, at the Stellar Djinn, a popular club at the top of FarSky. He and Aaylen had been dancing and drinking, a lot of drinking if he was being honest, and at some point, things had started to get fuzzy. The next clear memory he had was coming to and finding himself chained to a post, where he had spent the last 12 hours.
A shadowy shape stepped into the beam of light.
“Sore, tired, hungry, and not fully recovered from the drugs you slipped him. This is what you consider a unique and high quality target?” The voice was human, masculine, and from Raktet’s limited experience with various human dialects, a resident of the Empire Cluster.
“Some people would consider a sore, tired, hungry, and cornered NorAellian to be one of the most dangerous targets out there,” A second voice rang out from deep in the shadows of the room. Raktet recognized this new voice and it drew a growl from his throat. It was Aaylen, his all-too-brief Lyndri companion. He felt his scales rustle and he knew that the more chromatic scales around his neck and face were likely shimmering through shades of color, a clear sign of his conflicting emotions.
“Oh, just look at the little Dragon!” Aaylen crowed. “He’s mad and embarrassed and,” she paused to give a little theatrical gasp, “is that arousal I see poking in on the edges?” The lithe woman stepped out of the shadows and ran one needle-thin claw over his chest before draping herself against him.
“If you survive this little game my sweet little lizard,” she whispered into his ear, “I’ll let you have me as often as you’d like.”
Despite himself, Raktet shivered at her words and his memory of the nights they had shared. She kissed his cheek gently before spinning around and facing the shadow of the unknown man.
“I can personally attest to this one’s stamina. He just doesn’t stop,” she said, putting an exaggerated sway into her hips as she stepped towards the man.
“Vigor in the bedroom does not equate to longevity in a hunt,” the man said sharply.
“Mr. McEnroe,” she said, “You would not have sought me out without several recommendations from other satisfied hunters. This is what I excel at. I find the best specimens available for sportsmen such as yourself.” She spun on the ball of one foot and took a step away from the man. “If you don’t like him, I can find you a new one, of course, though it will take me a few months. I’ll simply go to the next person on the waiting list for him.”
“No!” the man said. “No. My membership to the Carnonos Lodge requires a successful hunt this month.”
“Well then!” Aaylen said cheerfully. “It looks like we have a deal. Transfer the money while I give your prey his instructions.”
The man pulled out a phone and began tapping on it as Aaylen walked back over to Raktet. She caressed his jaw with one hand and he fought the urge to bite it off. She leaned in close and lowered her voice to a whisper.
“I was serious, you know,” she said, her breath on his scales causing them to rustle again. “If I thought you’d ever trust me again, I would gladly give myself to you if you survive the next week.”
“At least we both understand that I do not trust you,” Raktet growled.
“Sweetie,” she purred, “I know what I’m all about. I capture sentients for these humans to hunt down. If you still somehow trusted me, I’d be much more concerned.” She straightened up and took a step back. “I’d tell you it isn’t hopeless, and I suppose that technically it isn’t, but no one has ever survived being hunted.” She held out her phone showing the local time and a map of the lower levels of FarSky Station. “When the clock strikes midnight, those chains will unlock. You’ll find that every access point to and from this level of FarSky is guarded. You can go anywhere you like on this level, though. Hide, fight back, whatever you’d like to try to do.” She held up a hand and her claws slid out smoothly. “But if you try to leave this level, my guards will make sure that you are far easier prey. Survive seven days or best Mr. McEnroe and you’ll be set free. Fail and, well, you are being hunted after all.”
Raktet snarled and Aaylen backed away a step. He could just barely make out the grin on her face in the harsh light shining in his eyes.
“Oh ho!” she said. “You are going to make this interesting, aren’t you?” Her phone dinged quietly and she glanced down at it, then back up to him. “That’s me paid, I’m afraid. Sorry sweetie, you were a fun time and a damn good kid for a Drag. I’d say good luck, but I think you’ll be needing a miracle to make it out alive.”
Long-term Storage Level - FarSky Station - August 11th, 2691
“It’s gonna take a fucking miracle to find this crate, Mik,” Emmy Sinclair groaned as she slammed the hatch of another warehouse space shut.
“I said it would not be easy, da? Needle in haystack is what I said,” the large man grinned at her from over his pad. “Next cargo hold is two blocks north.”
“You have also completely failed to explain exactly why you’re so desperate to find this particular crate,” Emmy grumbled as they started walking down the corridor.
“Da,” Mikhail Janson replied. “Is a surprise, and I would hate to ruin it.”
Emmy looked up at the larger man.
“Mik,” she said fondly. “Did you get me a present?”
The big man scowled.
“Stop trying to dig. We find crate, you can see what it is.”
Emmy lightly punched his arm.
“Ya big daft softie.”
“I am far from soft,” he grumbled.
Emmy laughed.
“Aye, that’s the damned truth,” she said. “Remind me why we couldn’t wait for the rest of the crew to help us find this needle of yours?”
“Because it is surprise for everyone. If I did not need help digging through haystack, I would not have even told you until I had it in hand.”
Emmy rolled her eyes and pointed at the glowing telltale above the next hatch.
“Zaroff Cargo, Unit 7. Is this the next one we’re checking?”
“Yes. They subcontract with the major shipping companies to hold displaced cargoes until their owners come seeking them.”
“Misplaced,” Emmy said, “Not displaced.”
“English is such an untidy language,” Mikhail groused.
“Is that why you’re trying to learn NorAellian?” Emmy asked.
“It is a simpler language. One that makes more sense to me,” he said and cranked open the hatch.
The two stepped through and Emmy reached over to slap the light panel beside the entrance. Nothing happened. She slapped it again and the cargo hold remained completely dark.
Mikhail pulled out a flashlight from a pocket and clicked it on, letting the light play across neatly stacked cargo containers and pallets of various items. He swung the light around to illuminate the light panel. Two big claw marks had ripped the panel apart. Emmy pointed at it.
“Well, there’s the problem,” she said sarcastically. “Someone tried to teach a velociraptor to be an electrician.”
“Those are NorAellian claw marks,” Mikhail said.
“What, are they very distinctive claw marks or something?”
“Da, but also,” he pointed the light at the ground where there was a very clear NorAellian footprint in some dust.
“You’ve been around Walker too much, noticing little details like that.”
“There should be a master panel over at the back,” Mikhail said, ignoring her jibe.
“Oh goody,” she muttered. “Wandering through a pitch black warehouse. This had better be one hell of a surprise.”
The two of them rounded a corner and Emmy found herself bowled over by a large shape moving fast the opposite direction. She let out an ‘oof’ of surprise as she landed on the deck under the bulk of a NorAellian. A second later, the weight vanished from her as Mikhail grabbed the NorAellian and heaved him off of her.
Emmy scrambled to her feet as Mikhail casually pinned the lizard up against one of the shelves neatly stacked with cargo. She gave her accidental assailant a harsh glare.
“I’m guessing you’re the one who ripped up that lighting panel, then?” she asked.
“Who in the hells are you people? I thought the asshole had to hunt alone?” the NorAellian choked out.
“Hunt?” Mikhail asked. “Who is hunting? And why here? There is nothing here that would be considered good prey.”
“Hunting me. Apparently I’m considered good prey,” he stopped talking and crossed his arms belligerently. “Why am I explaining all this? You two already know it. So go on, get it over with.”
“Hey, scaly,” Emmy growled. “You plowed into me. We aren’t hunting anything except a missing package.”
“My name is not ‘scaly,’” he muttered. “You know that’s a pejorative, right?”
“So what is your name, then?” Emmy snapped.
“Emmy,” Mikhail said gently. “Calm down. He is an adolescent.”
“He’s taller than you are!”
Mikhail shrugged.
“That is not exactly a difficult feat for a NorAellian. Unless they are newly hatched, they are likely to be larger than most humans. Besides, size is not an excuse for rudeness.”
“It’s how I deal with uncertainty.”
“My name,” the NorAellian interjected, “Is Raktet, and the burly guy is correct. I’m on my NorLyn DruuThra.”
“Your Nor-what now?” Emmy asked.
“NorLyn DruuThra,” Mikhail annunciated the words clearly. “It is rite of passage. Young NorAellians are sent out into the galaxy to sow oats. I am not clear on why agriculture is a part of it.”
“Was the phrase ‘sow their wild oats’?” Emmy asked.
“Da. Does the origin of the oats matter?”
“It’s an expression. It means to go run wild until you mature a bit.”
Mikhail pondered that for a moment and nodded.
“That makes more sense. Such an untidy language.”
Raktet nodded.
“I know. English gets so precise with some things and so needlessly vague with others.”
“He gets it,” Mikhail said appreciatively.
“Wasn’t there some talk about hunting before we got side tracked?” Emmy asked.
“Right,” Raktet said. “I’m currently being hunted by some guy named McEnroe. He’s been after me for three days.”
“What did you do to this McEnroe guy?” Emmy asked. “Steal something? Break something?”
“I did nothing to him!” Raktet snapped. “I’ve never even heard of him until a few days ago when my Lyndri fling drugged me and sold me to him for sport.”
Emmy and Mikhail exchanged a dark look and Mikhail released his hold on the young NorAellian.
“So when you say ‘hunted’ you mean it literally,” Emmy said.
“Very literally. He almost caught me in a razor trap yesterday.”
Mikhail was flipping through screens on his phone. He hit some keys and after a moment, the voice of Walker d’Ardenne echoed in the darkness.
“Mikhail, what’s up?”
“You have moment?”
“Seeing as you sound almost stressed enough to slip fully back into Russian, I’m going to say yes.”
“Walker,” Emmy said, “We literally ran into a NorAellian down on one of the cargo levels of FarSky. He’s a kid and he claims he’s being hunted by someone named McEnroe.”
“Can you define ‘hunted’ for me?”
“As in, he wants to kill me for sport,” Raktet said sourly.
“I take it that’s the NorAellian in question?” Walker asked. A loud popping sounded over the phone. “Hold on one second,” Walker said and his voice grew a bit distant. “No, we should definitely not do what Mikhail would do in this situation, Anya! I’d like us to keep this particular station intact!”
Emmy and Mikhail exchanged an amused look. Raktet’s eyes darted between the two of them and the phone.
“Who are you people?” he asked.
“We’re the West Isles Company,” Walker said on the phone. “And if you do what my two associates tell you to do, you’ll make it out of this mess alive.”
“That’s an insanely confident claim,” Raktet said.
“I’m insanely confident in those two,” Walker replied. “Did this McEnroe say anything else about this hunting?”
“Uhhh…” Raktet considered, thinking back. “He and the Lyndri chick that I was having a fling with mentioned some sort of Lodge? Carn-something?”
“Carnonos Lodge?” Walker asked in a flatly neutral tone that set Emmy and Mikhail on alert.
“Yeah, I think so? Hey, uh, any reason why your two associates just got real tense?”
“They can read my tone of voice very well. Tell me about this Lyndri. How is she involved?”
“She and I hooked up for a few days before she drugged me and strung me up for McEnroe’s amusement. Her name is Aaylen, if that helps?”
“I seriously doubt her name is actually Aaylen,” Emmy commented. “Walker, what are the odds that this guy is part of the McEnroe family from Hadrian?”
“Hadrian? Like in the Empire Cluster?” Raktet asked. “Because the guy sounded like he came from there.”
“I’d say the odds are pretty good,” Walker said drily. “I’m going to make a few calls. Try not to kill anyone but I’d like you two to get Raktet to safety no matter what.”
“Walker,” Mikhail said, “This hunting happens on our home station. Can we even assume anywhere is safe?”
“Oh, believe me, I’m going to be doing some serious digging to see who on FarSky is turning a blind eye to this. In the meantime, get him up to the office. It’s public enough that anyone would think twice, and security keeps a weather eye on it when I’m gone.”
“Understood,” Emmy said. “And don’t go lettin’ Anya blow things up for fun. I’d hate for her to get a taste for it like Mik.”
“Heard,” Walker said and killed the connection.
“Ah!” Mikhail exclaimed, causing the other two to jump. He pointed at a heavy plastic shipping crate with holes around the top edge. “That’s my box!”
Raktet looked between the two.
“Who the hell are you people!”
“We’re thieves, Raktet,” Emmy said with forced cheer. “And today, it looks like we’re stealin’ you.”
Ry’elle was bored.
This was the second job that her sister Ay’lena had brought her along on and nothing was happening. In three days, the only thing that had happened was two random humans coming down to look for some lost box.
The NorAellian hadn’t even approached any of the ways off of the cargo level. Ay’lena had just shrugged and said that it meant he was smarter than most and that it likely meant an easy payday for Ry’elle and the other guards.
Ry’elle didn’t mind that, but after hearing her sister gush about the Drag, she had hoped to at least meet the guy who had made her sister look so satisfied, even if she preferred women herself.
A noise broke her from her revelry.
The two humans were making their way back down the corridor. The bigger one, the male, was pushing a gravskid with two boxes on it while the smaller one, a stocky well-built woman that Ry’elle couldn’t help but eye appreciatively, trotted along beside him. They were busy bickering as they approached.
“I said one box,” the man was saying, “because shipper said one box!”
“Oh yeah,” the woman yelled, “because cut-rate Terran shipping companies are always reliable!”
“It was a choice between them or waiting two extra months for delivery!” The man said, giving Ry’elle a sheepish look as they approached her. Ry’elle held up a hand to stop them.
“Sorry folks,” she said, holding up a scanner, “I’ve got to scan your boxes.”
“Why?” the woman asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m with Zaroff Cargo,” she said, sticking to the established cover story. “We’re just doing spot checks across all Zaroff holdings. It’s routine, just making sure that cargo recovery is happening according to established company procedures.”
“Established company procedures, huh?” The woman seemed too focused on what was meant to be a perfectly bland bit of corporate speak. Ry’elle felt her hackles start to rise. “This is the same Zaroff Cargo who’s local office is a package drop and an automated terminal?”
“Ummm…” Ry’elle said.
“Or perhaps the Zaroff Cargo that routinely sends messages to its customers letting them know that their packages are waiting in one of eight holds, good luck?” the man added.
“Well…” Ry’elle said, feeling more and more off balance.
“She couldn’t possibly mean the same Zaroff Cargo that routinely deals with, shall we say, less than legal cargos and their dedication to not having conclusive records is their biggest draw.” The woman said, stepping around the gravskid and walking around behind Ry’elle.
She gritted her teeth and placed a hand on her sidearm in what she hoped was a casually threatening way.
“Look,” she said, “I don’t really care what you think. I’m scanning these boxes before you set foot on that lift. End of discu-“
A sound like a dozen wine glasses all singing in slightly different keys seemed to fill the corridor and Ry’elle clapped her hands to her ears. The sound didn’t lessen and she noticed in a rather shocked way that neither human seemed to be reacting at all. It was almost like…
Her mind flashed back to a meeting her sister had invited her to a few months back on board the Sanctus Aurum, the luxury liner turned Freeport over in Cobalt’s Eye.
The two Lyndri women had been meeting a Carnonos Lodge contact at the Blue Divine, a shockingly upscale restaurant on the main atrium of the massive ship. Their contact, a very serious looking human man named Royce, and his assistant, a very attractive woman named Ameli, had shown up late for the meeting and both had been on edge. Ay’lena had made it clear that Ry’elle was there to distract the assistant, but that plan hadn’t lasted long. Mere minutes after they arrived, Ry’elle had barely even started flirting when Royce had reached a hand over to Ameli and squeezed her shoulder. For a brief second, Ry’elle had heard three or four wine glasses singing discordantly. No one else in the restaurant had even seemed to notice, not even her sister, although Ay’lena had mentioned an odd smell later. The mystery sound had drawn her attention, but not so much that she had missed Ameli wincing in pain at what had seemed to be a light squeeze.
Now she was hearing a much more forceful version of the sound and once again no one else seemed to be reacting.
“What was tha-” she started to say, only to stop when she felt the cold metal of a knife against her throat.
“Now,” the man said in a cold, steady voice. “You are going to climb into box with our new friend. Once we are somewhere safe, you will be treated well until this whole business is concluded, da?”
The woman had completed her circuit of the gravskid and lifted open the lid of the larger box, where a young NorAellian, the one she had been hoping to meet, was curled up. He glanced up at her and patted the space by his chest with a harsh glare. Ry’elle gulped.
An hour later
Ay’lena, Aaylen to her marks, had her feet kicked up on a console in the temporary control room she had set up one level above the makeshift hunting ground. A few well-placed bribes had secured her a link to the security camera feeds on the cargo level. The bribes had been much higher than she had anticipated. One of the security techs had mentioned that he was going to make sure she gave him enough for him to disappear into Republic space. Someone connected to this station had a reputation amongst the staff that engendered a strong sense of loyalty, but whoever it was had taken pains to stay invisible. It was making Ay’lena nervous. She didn’t like dangling threads on these jobs.
“Uh, ma’am?” One of her hired goons poked his head up from his console. She waved a hand at him.
“Please tell me McEnroe has finally caught the Drag,” she whined.
“Um, no, sorry. McEnroe is resetting his razor trap in the Emory hold and last we saw, the kid was over in Zaroff 7.”
“Then why did you want my attention?”
“Er, because checkpoint 2 is missing?”
Ay’lena perked up at that. Checkpoint 2 was Ry’elle’s station.
“Pull up the cam feeds and let’s see what’s going on,” she said, trying to ignore an icy grip of fear in her stomach. If anything happened to her little sister, she wouldn’t forgive herself.
It took a few seconds for the feed from checkpoint 2 to pop up on the main screen. There was no one guarding the lift. Ay’lena glared at the screen and swung her feet off of the console.
“Start scrubbing backwards until you find Ry’elle,” she said to the goon. While the image on the screen started rolling back, she pulled out her phone and fired off a text to her sister.
[Where are you?]
“Ma’am!” the goon yelled. Ay’lena looked up from her phone to see him pointing at the main screen. She glanced over and watched the recording of the two humans holding a knife to her sister’s neck and ordering her into a box. Ry’elle slowly held up her hands and stepped into the box. The humans closed it up and while the big male started pushing the gravskid into the waiting lift, the woman looked directly into the cam, gave a friendly wave, and pantomimed holding a phone to her ear.
“I want to know who those two are,” Ay’lena growled through clenched teeth. “And I want to know RIGHT NOW!” Her goons dove back into their consoles at her scream. Under her hand, her phone buzzed. She picked it up and glanced at the screen. A number she didn’t recognize had sent her a message:
[Your phone is about to ring. I’d pick it up if I were you.]
“Quiet!” she shouted over the buzz of busy talking that had filled the room. “Anderson, can you tell me where a call is coming from?”
A squirrely looking man poked his head up from a console on the far side of the room.
“Uh, probably, ma’am? It would take about thirty seconds if it’s local. If the call is coming from off-station, it’ll take longer and I won’t be able to be specific.”
“Fine. My phone is apparently about to ring. Trace the call.”
Her phone buzzed again, this time with a call from the same number that had messaged her. She hit the green button and put the phone to her ear.
“Ry’elle?” she asked hopefully.
“Oh, swing and a miss, I’m afraid,” came a cultured, level male voice.
“Who the fuck is this and what did you do to my-”
“No,” the voice said, coldly. “You’re going to listen. I disapprove of your business on pretty much every possible level, but seeing as you never bothered me or mine, and hadn’t crossed my path before, I didn’t really see a benefit to meddling.”
“I guess that changed, huh?” she snarled.
“You kidnap sentients for the scum of humanity to hunt. Do you really think you have some sort of moral high ground here?”
Ay’lena couldn’t come up with a snappy response to that.
“Now, because I’m not from the same cesspit as one of your clients, your sister is safe and there’s literally nothing you can say or do that will change that. We’re also going to give her back.”
A text box popped up on her console and a message from Anderson scrolled out.
[Call is from off-station, likely outside the system]
Ay’lena narrowed her eyes at the message.
“So you say, but how can I trust your word? You’re not even in the system.”
“Oh, well done,” the voice chuckled. “Please give Mr. Ira Michael Anderson my compliments. That was a faster trace than we expected.”
The cold fear in her belly spread and her voice dropped to a whisper.
“How do you know the name of my coms guy?” she asked with a genuine quaver of fear in her voice.
“You had to bribe the security people for camera access. I just had to ask politely. Once I had your position, a quick call to some friends of mine in LNI got all of your faces run through their database.” The man on the other end of the call let that hang in the air for a moment. “I want to be very clear here, Ay’lena Myk’tesh, I have the name, face, and contact information for everyone in that room. If you and I don’t come to an agreement, I will be turning that over to every single authority in the galaxy, and this won’t be some anonymous tip. This will be direct messages between myself and major figures within all five major governments, plus the clusters.”
“Who are you?” she asked, sitting heavily into her chair.
“I’d say ‘no one to be trifled with’ but you’ve already done that. Plus I’m not sure how much ancient human entertainment has penetrated the Lyndri cultural consciousness. Let’s say, instead, that I’m a man who doesn’t appreciate the exploitation of the vulnerable, especially not on my station.”
Ay’lena felt the walls of the room closing in around her. Her mind raced as she considered her options.
“Now,” the man continued. “You’re probably thinking about your way out. I’ll be honest, you can just go if you’re ok with abandoning your sister. Station authorities are leaving this whole situation to me. If you so choose, you can cut and run. Your crew will get picked up and questioned, as will Mr. Arthur McEnroe IV. You can safely assume that your reputation with the Carnonos Lodge, along with most of the underworld, will be ruined. Especially when word gets out that you flipped and gave the League all the names you could.”
“I would never-” she started.
“I don’t care. You deal in sentients like they’re just another commodity. I have a deal to offer you, but make no mistake, if you refuse, I will ruin you. I’ll make it my personal hobby to keep an eye on you and make sure that you are never comfortable for even a moment for the rest of your life.”
“What’s the deal?”
“Answer me one question first.”
“Ok, what’s the question?”
“Is this what you want to be doing?”
“What?”
“Is trading in the lives of people what you want to be doing?”
“I- I never really thought about it before. I was just a smuggler and bounty hunter until the Carnonos people asked me to set them up with a criminal to hunt. Things just sort of spiraled from there.”
“Time to make a choice, then, Ay’lena,” the man said. “Option one: if you want to hear my deal, head up to the promenade around the Savannah Gardens. There’s a dim sum restaurant there on the south side. One of my people will meet you there. Option two: anything else. Try to run, or try to alert McEnroe, or anything other than walking yourself up to the Gardens, and I’ll burn your whole group. You have twenty minutes to decide.”
The call went dead and Ay’lena stared blankly at the far wall of the room.
“Fuck,” she said under her breath.
Despite himself, Raktet was enjoying Ry’elle’s company. The box was cramped, and Emmy and Mikhail had told him to channel his frustrations into a convincing performance. He was pretty sure that Ry’elle was more intimidated by his size than by his fake mood. He opted for a different approach.
“So,” he said conversationally. “How’d you wind up in the kidnapping business?”
There was a long pause before the two of them burst out laughing.
“What the hell kind of universe do we live in?” Ry’elle said after their laughter subsided.
“What do you mean?” Raktet asked.
“Like, five minutes ago, if you had approached my checkpoint, I would have shot you.”
“Really?” he asked. “You’d really have shot me?”
He felt her small shoulders shrug.
“That was the job,” she said. “And I was really trying to impress my sister.”
Raktet sighed.
“I get that,” he said. “My uncle is this crazy respected guy back home and when he went out on his NorLyn DruuThra, he came back with a lost NorAellian library. I just got kidnapped to be hunted by a human.”
He felt Ry’elle wiggling around until she had rolled over to face him.
“I don’t know if this helps at all, but you were the first one my sister felt bad about.”
“Oh goody, I’m glad I was good enough in bed for her to feel bad about giving me to a killer for sport,” he growled.
Ry’elle shrank back a bit and Raktet closed his eyes and sighed.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
He felt her stiffen a little bit before she answered.
“I guess so. It’s not like I have a lot of options.”
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he said. “Honestly, I’m just making conversation. I’d rather just be on my way. Get off this damn station and get back to my life.”
“I feel the same way,” Ry’elle said. “Well, sort of. I don’t know that I have a life anywhere else.”
“That was going to be my question.”
“What was?”
“Is this what you really want to be doing with your life?”
Ry’elle fell silent and Raktet was content to let her mull it over.
“Do you know what I really want to do?” she asked.
“Tell me,” he said.
“I want to learn about ships. How they’re made, how they work. I want to know how to make a thing that can fling itself across the galaxy.”
Raktet listened as she spoke and felt a smile growing across his face.
“Listen, I don’t know these West Isles people. I met them minutes before I met you. But they seem really well informed. Like, scarily well informed. I bet they could introduce you to someone who could give you that chance.”
“Why would they help me?” Ry’elle asked. “I’m part of the group that kidnapped you and would have shot them if they hadn’t used that sonic thing on me.”
“What sonic thing?”
“I don’t know, but just before they forced me in here with you, there was some loud noise that didn’t seem to bother them at all.”
“Huh,” Raktet grunted. “This box must be more soundproof than I thought. I didn’t hear anything like that.” He chewed on his cheek for a second before shrugging as much as he could in the confined space. “Regardless, I don’t think they’re out to hold a grudge. I get the feeling that if they wanted you dead, you’d be dead. They seem very capable of violence.”
“So, what?” she asked. “I should climb out of this box, sell out my sister, and beg them to take me to someone who can teach me to build ships?”
The box lid lifted open and Emmy grinned down at them.
“We wouldn’t call it selling out your sister, but yeah, we can probably make that happen,” Emmy said. “If that’s what you really want, we’ve got some contacts in the shipbuilding world.”
Emmy helped the two out of the box.
“Why in the goddess’ name would you help me after all this?” Ry’elle asked as Raktet clambered up and stretched.
“Because we believe in second chances, and we believe in putting useful people where they can do the most good.” Emmy stepped up to Ry’elle and put her hands on the Lyndri woman’s shoulders. “If you want to learn ship building, we’ll get you in touch with people who could teach you.”
She patted Ry’elle’s shoulders and pointed to a table big enough to accommodate a NorAellian. “Y’all hang out here with me. Mik is out in the restaurant bar to keep an eye on things. He’ll also be waiting to see what your sister decides to do.”
“What do you mean?” Ry’elle asked.
“I mean our boss is calling her and making an offer any minute now,” she pulled out her pad and set it on the table. An image from a security cam was playing on it. Ry’elle pointed at it.
“How did you get a cam feed from my sister’s control room?”
“We asked station security really nicely,” Emmy replied with a grin. “They owed us a favor.”
“This might be asking too much,” Raktet said, “but could I get some food? I’m starving.”
“I figured you might be,” Emmy said. “So I asked the ladies who run this place to bring out a few heaps of dumplings for the two of you.”
“Dumplings?” Raktet asked. “I don’t think I’ve had those yet.”
“Oh, kid, you’re in for a treat,” she said and pointed at Ry’elle. “If you’re hungry, eat some too. I know it feels like you’re our prisoner-”
“Because I am?” Ry’elle cut in.
“Because you are,” Emmy agreed with a smile. “But hey, at least we won’t hunt you for sport.”
“I guess I deserved that.”
“Nah, not really,” Emmy said, patting the young woman on her shoulder. “I cannae blame ya for wanting to work with your sister. I can blame ya both for bad taste in work, but that’s not really helpful. Hopefully Walker’s call to your sister will scare her into being willing to talk.”
A smiling woman bustled onto the patio with a tray piled high with steamer baskets. She began setting them down on the table.
“Hello, hello!” she said with a bright smile. “I’m Lena Gao, one of the owners here.” She looked at Raktet first. “You are not the first young NorAellian to come in here on a NorLyn DruuThra! I know how big your appetites can be,” she smirked at that and deliberately did not look at Ry’elle. The Lyndri woman felt herself blushing at the comment despite not having any reason to do so. “All the dim sum in these red baskets are made with RyiVik and RyiVikTyn based on a recipe I learned from a NorAellian I flew with a long time ago.” She turned her smile on Ry’elle and placed a blue basket down in front of her. “I know you can eat his dumplings too, but this one is filled with sweetened Thir’ayir curd that I got shipped here from Vy’kreth.”
Both youths looked up at her in wonder. With a flourish, she swept the lids off of their baskets and the aromatic steam rising from the dumplings filled the air. Emmy grinned at them both as she lifted a pork dumpling from the green basket in front of her.
“Dig in you two, we’ve got some time,” she said.
Raktet set to it with a will. In no time, he had shoveled almost all of the dumplings into his maw and had asked Lena if he could get more. The woman had positively beamed and brought out more baskets for him.
“I so rarely get to cook for NorAellians any more,” she said as she lifted the lid from the new baskets. “This batch is a spicier blend with a little more RyiVikTyn.”
When those baskets were almost completely empty, Raktet let out a long belch of satisfaction and gave Ry’elle and Emmy an embarrassed look.
“Sorry, I haven’t eaten in a bit,” he said.
“No worries kid. An appetite is nothing to be ashamed of,” Emmy said with a smile.
“Gods below, I could curl up and nap for a day,” he said with a yawn, eyes being drawn to a brightly lit patch of the patio.
“Sorry Raktet,” Emmy said. “I’m gonna have to ask you to not do that right now. Walker is making contact any second with Ay’lena and we’re expecting things to move fast once he does.” She stood and stretched before snagging one of his last dumplings. “I’m going to go check in with Mikhail and see how we’re doing. You two chit chat or something.”
Raktet eyed the warm and inviting patch of artificial sun sadly and turned to Ry’elle.
“Wanna chit chat in that nice warm patch of sun?” he asked.
Emmy rolled her eyes and popped the dumpling in her mouth as she walked out of the patio.
“You’re just angling to sneak in a nap,” Ry’elle said with a laugh.
“Being hunted takes it out of a guy!” Raktet said defensively.
Ay’lena stomped into the lift and slapped the button for the promenade. She spun around as the doors closed and crossed her arms. She was trapped, utterly and completely trapped by an opponent that she hadn’t even seen. It was infuriating on a purely professional level, but if she was being honest with herself, she was kind of glad. It hadn't been the most fulfilling few years in her life, and ever since Ry’elle had asked to come along, she had been having more and more doubts. It was a dangerous business and she had dragged her baby sister along with her. Something like this was bound to happen to them eventually.
The elevator dinged and its doors slid open to show the promenade. Ay’lena took a second to orient herself and realized that she was on the wrong side of the station. With a sigh, she started walking.
It took her a while before she realized that someone was walking beside her. She glanced over and saw a human man that she didn’t recognize. He was in stained coveralls and held his face in a perfectly bland expression. Every single thing about him was broadcasting that he was no one worth looking at. She narrowed her eyes.
“I’m already on my way to the meeting,” she muttered. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
The man laughed.
“Ya know,” he said, “That’s exactly what Walker said you’d say.”
“But the mysterious, all-knowing lord of FarSky disagrees?” she growled.
“Not really,” he said. “And he’s not all-knowing, despite how much he does know.”
The man’s phone chirped and he pulled it from his pocket. He glanced at a text message and then flipped off the nearest security cam.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
The man turned his phone so she could see the text:
[I knew you were on station despite your claim otherwise, didn’t I?]
“Fuck,” she muttered. “So he’s like this with everyone?”
“Pretty much!” he said cheerfully. “It’s not as bad as it seems, really. There’s plenty of benefits to being friends with someone who is almost pathologically obsessed with staying on top of current events.” He gave her a serious look. “He’s being this harsh with you partially because he’s annoyed that you pulled this shit on his station without him noticing.”
“That’s not really comforting,” she said.
“It wasn’t meant to be,” he countered. “You blundered your way into the crosshairs of a guy who once dismantled a cartel in Terran space from a coffee shop on Calysto.” He paused for a beat. “And he did it on a bet.”
“So if someone really pissed him off?” she asked, the fear creeping back into her voice.
The man gave her a look that she couldn’t interpret. It seemed to be somewhere between cold fury and sympathy.
“If someone really, truly pissed him off? I’d suggest that they vacate the galaxy. If he ever gets a real good fury going, I’m willing to bet that everyone connected to the person who pissed him off would get burned by the heat of his rage.” He grinned at her again. “Don’t worry, you didn’t get him anywhere near that mad.”
“Oh goody,” she groaned. “So the psycho is only kinda mad at me, not burn the galaxy to the ground around me mad. If you wanted me to rethink this, you’ve succeeded.”
The man’s phone chirped again and he barked another laugh when he read it. She didn’t even need to ask as he almost immediately showed her the screen.
[I am not a psychopath. David, please stop freaking her out when we’re this close to putting a nice bow on the whole mess.]
They had stopped walking and Ay’lena glanced at the man curiously.
“Why’d we stop? Don’t you want to put a bow on this, too?”
“Honestly?” the man shrugged. “I don’t really care. If he had listened to my advice then you, your crew, and your client would all be dead and your corpses would be well on their way to the local star.”
“So what are you doing here?”
He pointed at the building they were standing next to.
“Welcome to Mengxiang Zhi Can. The best dumplings this side of DIM! over in Trajan. There’s a big guy waiting for you at the bar. Try to be polite, he’s exactly as mean as he looks like he can be. But he’s also one of the best people you could ever have in your corner.”
“You know, if you were aiming for reassuring, you have completely missed.”
“Eh, reassurances aren’t really my thing,” the man shrugged as he turned and started walking away. “Whatever deal he’s offering you, I’d take it!” he called back over his shoulder.
Ay’lena watched him go in horrid fascination before she turned and walked cautiously into the restaurant. It was not what she expected. Unlike the typical underworld hangout, this place was nicely decorated, quiet, and seemed fairly full. She tracked the big guy at the bar easily. He was the same one from the cam feed she had seen hold a knife to her sister’s neck.
He looked up directly at her and patted the space at the bar next to him. With a sigh, she walked over and sat down.
“Is good that you showed up,” he said, nodding slowly. “Easier this way. Better for everyone.”
“You’ll forgive me if I disagree that having my entire operation exposed is better for me,” she muttered.
“Da, understandable,” he smiled slightly. “But consider, this would have happened someday. What if you had disappointed your Lodge friends and they had forced you to sell them your sister?”
Ay’lena tried to keep her horrified shudder from showing through, but he had nailed her doubts perfectly.
“We have not harmed her. We have fed her. She is getting along quite well with Raktet, in fact. Good friendship forming there, I think.”
“Ok, you’ve made your point,” she fought to keep her voice down. “What’s the deal?”
The big man gave her a measuring look before he nodded and placed his phone on the bar between them.
“The deal,” came a familiar voice from the phone. “Is this: you will meet with a Lyndri ambassador to the League. You will tell her exactly how you were first contacted, how they’ve reached out to you since then, and how many times you’ve done this for them. Along with names and pictures of your contacts and the people you’ve sold if you have them.”
“And then what? Do I vanish into some League black site?” she asked.
“And then she will connect you, your sister, and possibly Raktet with someone who could use some of your unique help. It’ll almost certainly be more on the smuggling side of things than the kidnapping side.”
“Wait, your deal is that I out myself and my operation, and then my punishment is you setting me up with a new job?”
“Yeah.” he said. “That’s the deal.”
“Why?”
“Because despite your deeply skewed moral compass, I don’t think you’re irredeemable. I should also add that there’s likely to be more to the deal you make with the ambassador, like owing her a favor or three.”
“But no jail time? No vanishing into a secret torture gulag? Just some new gig?”
“I’m fairly confident that I know where an old IW5 Terran gulag is, if you really want to do that kind of penance.”
“Not complaining!” Ay’lena said quickly, “Just confused, I guess.”
“Look, cards on the table? You’re good at this. My crew literally ran into this little scheme of yours. And if it hadn’t involved sentient trafficking, we probably would have left it alone. Maybe drop you a line about not running ops on my station without a courtesy notice or something.”
“But?”
“No but. You have skills that the galaxy needs right now. So I’m going to put you in touch with someone who can put you to good use. If you don’t like that deal, your sister is out on the patio enjoying some thir’ayir curd dumplings. Go have one or two and then be on your way. We’ll also be letting Raktet be on his way at the same time.”
“What if I do like the deal?”
“Dismiss your crew. Go out on the porch and verify that your sister is alright. Then see if you can salvage any sort of trust with Raktet. And enjoy a dumpling. The ambassador will be on site within the next hour.”
Jirael, the chief Lyndri Ambassador to the League of Allied Worlds, flowed onto the patio. When Ay’lena saw her, she almost choked on the dumpling she was eating.
The ambassador crossed the patio to them and eased herself into a seat at the table. Without a word, she grabbed a thir’ayir dumpling and popped it into her mouth. After chewing and swallowing, she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.
“Lena, Lena, Lena,” she said as the chef trotted out onto the patio with another few baskets of dumplings. She sat two red ones down in front of Mikhail and Raktet, and a blue one down in front of Jirael. “You were exactly the right person to give my grandmother’s recipe to. This is truly delicious.”
“Thank you kindly, Ambassador!” Lena said and slid into a side hug with her. “They are our single best seller with our local Lyndri. I’ve been talking with Ty’teya about selling the curd directly.”
“I can give her a nudge if you like?”
“Ah, I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble.”
“For you, Lena, it is no trouble at all,” Jirael pulled out her phone and tapped a quick note into it. She popped another dumpling into her mouth, and after chewing contentedly for a few minutes, she turned to the rest of the table.
“Alright. Let us sort this particular mess out,” she said. Her eyes raked the group and landed on Ay’lena. “Ay’lena and Ry’elle Myk’tesh. I knew one of your aunts from the early days of my public career.” She glared at Ay’lena. “She would be ashamed that you dragged your pride name down into this muck. Did you dismiss your crew?”
Ay’lena tried to hold on to her own anger, and match the fury she saw in the ambassador’s eyes, but she felt her resolve wilt. She looked down and nodded. “My main crew is paid and scattering. Walker asked for the contact info for my coms guy.”
“What about your client who was going to hunt our lizard friend here?”
“I haven’t told him anything. He thinks the hunt is still on.”
“Good. I have a… friend of mine about to go down and have a chat with him,” Jirael said with a wicked grin. “Now, I’ve been informed that you, Ry’elle, have a desire to learn about ship building?”
“Um, yeah,” the young woman said with a note of uncertainty. “I’ve always been fascinated by them.”
“And you, Ay’lena,” Jirael swivled her head and speared the other woman with her gaze again. “You’ve still got plenty of your old smuggler contacts, right?”
“I, uh, might have to make nice with some of them, but yes? I think so?”
“Good. Here’s the deal: I will take you two to a brand new ship building company called Sidus Arborum. It's owned and operated by free Lyndri and they’re eager for some more talent. Ry’elle, the owner and head designer is looking forward to talking with you and seeing if she thinks you can be taught. Ay’lena, they’re willing to set you up with a ship so long as you agree to bring them the rare materials they need. You’ll be free to rebuild your own shipping or smuggling network, but you have to make their shipments a priority for the next five years.”
She looked at the two women expectantly. The sisters exchanged a glance and Ry’elle spoke up first.
“I’m in,” she said to Jirael and then turned to her sister. “Sorry, Ay, but I don’t think I’m cut out for this life.”
Ay’lena shook her head.
“Don’t apologize Ry,” she replied. “I don’t think I’m all that cutout for it either.” She looked back at the ambassador. “But smuggling I know I can do. I’m in.”
“Now, for our NorAellian friend, here.” Jirael turned a smile on Raktet. “I’ve been told that you’re looking for some greater purpose out here. Would you be opposed to working for a Lyndri?”
“Not at all!” Raktet said.
Jirael smiled at him.
“Then you’re coming with us, too. My’ri is eager to meet all three of you.”
Jirael stood up and held out her hand to Emmy.
“Thank you for using a light touch with them,” she said.
Emmy shook her hand and grinned.
“Ah, they’re good kids. They just needed a good nudge in the right direction.”
Jirael laughed and gave Mikhail a nod.
“Janson. Thank you as well. I’d offer my hand, but you reek of your knife right now.”
The burly man looked abashed before he laughed.
“Da, thankfully, neither my knife or I smell of blood.”
“Very true,” she said and turned her attention back to the other three. “Come along children. Let’s get you to the ship.”
“What about McEnroe?” Ay’lena asked as they all stood.
“Oh, I think he’s about to run into a Dragon he can’t handle,” Jirael said with a laugh.
Arthur McEnroe IV tested the tension on his razor trap. This time, the fucking drag wouldn’t be able to just snip the line without setting the device off. He was more than willing to be patient, but most of his hunts had ended by the third day. This NorAellian was trickier than he had assumed.
“Don’t you worry, little Drag!” he called out. “I won’t be underestimating you any longer!”
The lights in the cargo hold dropped without warning and McEnroe pulled his gun around. He clicked on the light attachment and swept the beam around the hold.
“That is good to hear,” a new voice crawled from the shadows. “A hunter should never underestimate his prey.”
McEnroe felt cold dread creep down his spine. He recognized that voice from news broadcasts.
“Do you know how NorAellians view those of our own people who hunt other sentients?” the voice of Kashk, the NorAellian ambassador to the League, echoed from a different part of the massive chamber. McEnroe swung his gun towards it. Terror kept him from making a blind dash towards the hatch.
“We consider them to be some of the worst criminals around. They are hated only slightly less than those who commit acts of sexual assault or those who harm children.” The voice seemed closer now, and somehow, behind him. His trembling hands made the light from his gun bounce chaotically around the room. Slowly, he turned and his light illuminated the legs of a huge NorAellian. McEnroe brought the gun up, trailing the light up Kashk’s body to his head. In the shaky light, he could just make out the abject hatred in the Ambassador’s eyes.
“I so rarely get to be involved in the punishment of such a criminal. You, Mr. Arthur McEnroe IV, are a rare treat.” Kashk leaned down and forward until he was snout to nose with the terrified man. “With you, I don’t have to hold back.” he snarled, letting some saliva drip from his teeth.
McEnroe fainted with a shriek.
Clapping echoed through the hold and David McKenzie walked up, applauding. He bent down and quickly slapped McEnroe in cuffs before turning to Kashk.
“Fucking hell Uncle Kashk,” he said, shaking his head. “You almost had me convinced that you were going to rip him apart.”
Kashk reached a massive hand up to his jaw and gently wiped away the saliva.
“Ah, I don’t get to have fun like this anymore. My life is all subterfuge and dialog these days. I enjoy getting to indulge my more predatory side.” He gave his nephew a grin. “Please thank Mr. d’Ardenne for me, and let him know I’m always willing to put the fear of a Dragon into scum like this.”
David laughed.
“I wouldn’t tell him that if I were you. Given the direction the galaxy’s heading? He’d keep you busy all day, every day.”
Kashk sighed.
“There is more truth to that than I would like to admit. Now, grab that heap of trash and let us go see if we can talk Lena into making us some dumplings for the trip.”