Page 130 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Thorin didn’t hesitate, stepping over the threshold but holding out one arm against the first panel, as he meant to make sure it didn’t slide shut.

With a shiver, I hurried after him, realizing he did so because he feared I’d get locked out, becoming an easier target for bottom feeders like those men earlier.

Once inside, the door behind us silently shut.

Barely a second later, nozzles opened up in the ceiling, hosing us down with a fine mist.

I flinched in shock, reaching for my EV helmet, but Thorin placed his hand on mine.

“It’s just a decontamination cycle. This information broker appears to be a neat freak.

” He eyed the dirty-looking panels around us, daring them to dispute that statement.

“Can’t say I blame him, with how dirty this damn station is. ”

The red light on the camera blinked off, and the second door slid open just as quietly.

It opened into a room with white walls, nearly entirely covered by screens, a long desk encircling the room, and a chair on a track in front of it.

At the center of the room sat a round bed–couch hybrid, piled high with pillows.

One door led to what might be a lav and shower room, and a food dispenser occupied one corner.

The place would be bare and austere—spartan—if not for the many cables and screens, flashing lights, and layers of data.

All of that was hardly surprising; it kind of matched my image of how an information broker would live.

What did shock me was the person in the massive desk chair, arms out, stabbing away at the keyboards and touchscreens.

The many, many, almost see-through tentacles of a Praxidar were the last thing I expected to see out here in the Zeta Quadrant.

The chair swiveled, turning our way so that we could better take in the jellyfish-like head with its huge, black, lidless eyes.

No mouth was visible, it was located below the mantle.

Many strong, very long limbs supported the creature and worked at the impressive computer system in front of it.

I stared; the Praxidar stared back at me, while Thorin seemed to go entirely unnoticed.

“So, another free human in Zeta, huh?” the Praxidar burbled, a mechanical voice box hidden beneath its mantle helping it speak in a way that was recognizable to our translators.

The voice was vaguely male, though I knew the Praxidar were genderless and reproduced through mitosis.

The Praxidar was also one of the three species that made up the UAR, so I was certainly worried we’d wandered right into a trap.

With those tentacles still actively controlling the computer system, there was no telling if it had already shot off a warning to the UAR battleship, letting it know my location.

My hand dropped to my pistol, flexing around the grip.

“What is a Praxidar doing here?” I demanded of it.

My response and body language had clued Thorin in on my trepidation, and he shifted closer, hand on his chain, ready to fight.

The grin on his face was a mixture of excitement—thrill-seeker that he was—and concern.

The Praxidar raised four tentacles in the air, waving them as if he were surrendering, though a dozen more still moved across the keys behind him.

“Call me Jim. I am wanted for colluding with the Clade in Alpha, so here I am. I will not sell you out—that’s not the kind of information I broker.

” They were highly logical creatures that required no sleep and only limited food; they were extremely suited to a solitary existence.

Because of this, his words made no sense.

Why would a Praxidar collude with the rebels threatening UAR colonies?

“Ah,” Jim said, “you might no longer wear UAR colors, but you still believe their propaganda.” Behind him, on a screen, a video started to play.

“That is one of the outer colonies the Clade supposedly bombed and tried to wrest from UAR control.” On the screen, I saw a desert-like planet with a miserable few homesteads clustered around a small town—humans and other aliens side by side on the streets, clearly living harmoniously, until a small UAR bomber dropped out of the sky and skimmed over them.

I recognize the vessel immediately because I’d seen them lined up in hangar bays aboard the various battleships I’d served on.

The camera panned to better capture the view of the ship just as the first bombs dropped.

The explosion was immediate, fire blasting across the town, decimating it along with the people.

The camera was far enough away to be spared, and, as there was no sound and the view remained stationary, I couldn't tell if it was a person filming or not. I couldn’t see if more bombs dropped but a moment later, fire washed over the camera, and it blacked out too.

The implications were clear: if that image was not somehow manipulated, it looked very much like the UAR bombed their own colony.

Why would they do such a thing? Why make the UAR population feel like the Clade were a threat if they weren’t the ones doing this?

My horror must have been obvious to both Thorin and the Praxidar.

Thorin actually wrapped an arm around my shoulders and tugged on my braid—one of his all-time favorite things to do.

Jim was a crazy name for a Praxidar, but they tended to pick mundane human names for interaction with humans, so it was not unexpected.

He squinted his lidless black eyes at me and gestured at the footage.

“Just received it from a source. I’m planning on releasing it to all major news outlets on Earth.

Now, what are you here for? Jasmin said it was urgent. ”

He pointed a tentacle at an image popping up on another screen of a Pakistani woman of middle age, wrapped in two of the four arms of a handsome Pretorian male.

In front of them, a silvery and coppery-looking gangly youth stood with his arms crossed.

Pointed elf ears made him look similar to Thorin or a Terafin, another race from the Alpha Quadrant.

I could hazard a guess that this woman was Jasmin, the acquaintance Ziame had in common with Jim.

Although… if Jim actually had a family-portrait-like picture of them, he might be more than just an acquaintance.

He had to be a close friend. Well, or he was just good at what he did—digging up information on people and selling it to the highest bidder.

I shivered, disliking that kind of work; it didn’t seem right to invade someone’s privacy that way.

“I have more footage you can send to those stations,” I told him.

“Proof that the UAR is offering our own people in trade to a crimelord here in Zeta, in exchange for weapons.” I forced myself to refrain from touching my chest, where the data from my EV feeds was stored.

Of course, we had that data backed up on the Vagabond as well, but there was no need to draw attention to anything just yet.

The Praxidar quivered, his blue and purple colors brightening.

“Send it to me, that will make a pretty splash on the evening news!” He was already pulling up screens, typing more furiously with his other many tentacles.

I hesitated and looked at Thorin for reassurance.

This sounded too good to be true, and I wanted to get a warning out to my family first. I also distinctly remembered that a favor had been mentioned, what was this UAR outcast going to demand we do for him in return?

When I asked, his tentacles shivered, then several of them waved my way in a dismissive gesture.

“Oh, nothing serious—just a small favor. You’ve got a big, strong lump of muscle at your side; he’ll take care of it, no problem.

” He side-eyed Thorin, who’d started glaring fiercely at being labeled a ‘lump,’ of all things.

“He’ll probably enjoy it, if the footage at my doorstep is any indication. ”

Thorin bristled at the implication, even though it was probably true, and moved forward as if to lay into the Praxidar with his sharp tongue.

I grabbed his arm and held him back, silently telling him to drop it.

“I still want the details before I agree to anything,” I told Jim firmly.

While the Praxidar had no sclera, he managed to make an eye motion that almost conveyed the eye roll perfectly.

He swiped with a tentacle, and information popped up on Thorin’s com.

“That’s where one of my paying clients is currently located, and he needs to pay.

Feel me?” Thorin scrolled through the data, gave a shrug and a nod, and gestured at me to proceed.

A little nervously, I stepped closer to the Praxidar as I outlined the message I wanted to get through to my family.

He nodded along, his tentacles never pausing as they moved across the computer system.

Just as I got to the point of offering the Praxidar the data chip with the footage, he suddenly stiffened and pulled back.

The chair swiveled as he turned to face a bank of screens, on which surveillance footage popped up of the street outside his front door.

Another feed showed a second door, leading out to an even more cramped alley.

On both, big men in leather and armor appeared, aiming weapons directly at the cameras.

“I think you must leave, right away,” the Praxidar said.

A final swipe of his tentacles, and the entire computer system shut down, the small chamber suddenly going deathly quiet.

Jim was up and out of his chair the next moment, scuttling creepily across the floor in an undulating wave of tentacles.

Reaching the round bed/couch thing in the center, he pointed at it. “Go through there. Quickly.”