Page 11

I stared out the cockpit viewport, watching hyperspace flow past. My mug sat cold next to me, forgotten after the first sip. The ship hummed around me, vibrations through the pilot’s seat as comfortable and familiar as an old sweater. But right now, nothing felt right. Nothing felt normal.

My fingers traced the edge of the control panel, rubbing over a spot worn smooth from years of the same nervous habit.

“One month. Just survive one month.” The words fell flat in the empty cockpit.

I’d said that phrase like a mantra since I’d made the deal with Korvan. Back when he was just a dangerous Vinduthi enforcer who owned my contract. Back before I’d seen him bleed. Before he’d saved my life. Before his hand had lingered on mine in the galley, the heat from his skin searing into me.

Why did that moment keep replaying in my head? The slight softening around his eyes. The hesitation before he pulled away.

“He’s a Vinduthi,” I reminded myself. “Cold. Ruthless. Deadly.”

The kind of man who killed without remorse. The kind of alien that most humans only saw in nightmares or on wanted bulletins.

So why did he keep protecting me? Why did I keep noticing the way his tall frame moved with dangerous grace through my ship? Why did my skin burn everywhere he touched me?

I pushed back from the console. This was ridiculous. I was acting like some love-struck teenager, not a hardened smuggler with a price on her head in three systems.

The door to the cockpit slid open, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“We’re approaching Velaxis Prime,” Korvan said, ducking his head slightly to clear the doorframe. Even after days together on my ship, his size still startled me. “You should prepare for atmospheric entry.”

I swiveled my chair, hoping my face didn’t betray my thoughts. “Already on it.”

I wasn’t, but he didn’t need to know that.

He studied me for a moment, those red eyes unreadable. “You should eat something.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve had nothing but trish for twelve hours.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re tracking my meals now?”

“I track everything,” he said simply, and folded himself into the co-pilot’s chair beside me. It looked absurdly small with him in it.

I turned back to the controls, disengaging the hyperdrive sequence. The streaking stars slowed, solidified into distant pinpricks of light against the black. Velaxis Prime hung before us, a gray-brown orb mottled with angry red scars – the remnants of decades of civil war.

“Charming place,” I said. “Let me guess – the tourist season’s over?”

Korvan didn’t smile. “There’s never been a tourist season on Velaxis Prime. The war never truly ended. The fighting just... paused occasionally.”

I guided the Starfall into the planet’s orbit, running standard scans. Multiple small craft showed on the sensors, but nothing that looked military grade. At least, nothing broadcasting standard IFF codes.

“So, where’s this informant of yours?” I asked.

“Sector 12. Near what used to be the capital city. He’s hiding in an underground bunker complex. Former military installation.”

“And he has information about your traitor?”

Korvan nodded. “Krenis was a mid-level information broker for the Fangs. He disappeared right after the ambush at the mining outpost.”

“Convenient timing,” I remarked, angling the Starfall toward the coordinates he’d provided.

“Very. We tracked him to Velaxis Prime. He knows something, or he's involved somehow.”

“And you think he’ll just... what? Confess everything?”

Korvan’s mouth tightened. “He has information we need. But trust will be in short supply.”

“Sounds like a great guy,” I said, programming the landing sequence. “Can’t wait to meet him.”

We descended through Velaxis Prime’s turbulent atmosphere, the ship shuddering as I navigated thermal pockets and unexpected wind shears.

Below us, the landscape transformed from abstract patterns to a stark reality of destruction.

Bombed-out buildings jutted from the ground like broken teeth.

Entire city blocks had been reduced to rubble.

In the distance, dark smoke rose from multiple locations.

“This is recent damage,” I said, surprised. “I thought the war was in a ceasefire.”

“Official hostilities may have ceased. The militias never stopped fighting.”

I landed the Starfall on a relatively flat section of cleared ground about half a kilometer from the coordinates Korvan had given me. Close enough to reach quickly, far enough to make a fast escape if needed.

“Keep the engines hot,” Korvan said as we exited the ship. “We may need to leave quickly.”

The air hit me like a slap – acrid, thick with smoke and the metallic tang of weapons discharge. Dust coated my tongue. In the distance, I heard sporadic gunfire and what might have been explosions.

Korvan moved with surprising stealth for someone his size, leading us through the ruins. We skirted crumbling walls and ducked under collapsed archways. Twice he stopped suddenly, holding up a hand, and each time I heard the sounds of people passing nearby – hushed voices, the clink of weapons.

We reached what had once been a government building. Now only the foundation and parts of two walls remained. Korvan crouched beside a half-concealed metal hatch.

“Here,” he said, pulling it open to reveal a dark shaft with metal rungs descending into blackness.

I peered down. “You first.”

He gave me a look that might have been amusement, then dropped smoothly into the opening.

The bunker stank of mildew, unwashed bodies, and fear. Dim emergency lighting cast everything in sickly green. We moved through narrow corridors, Korvan navigating the turns with confidence. The walls were marked with blast scorch marks and what looked disturbingly like dried blood.

“How do you know this place?” I whispered.

“The Fangs have operations everywhere. Even war zones.”

“Especially war zones,” I corrected.

After several minutes of walking, Korvan stopped before a sealed door. He entered a code into a battered keypad, and the door slid open with a grinding protest.

Inside, a gaunt man with patchy stubble spun toward us, a plasma pistol clutched in trembling hands. His eyes widened with recognition, then fear.

“You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?” Krenis’s voice cracked. The room around him was filthy, littered with food containers and bedding. A portable console glowed in one corner, surrounded by data chips.

Korvan stepped forward. “That depends on whether you make yourself useful. Who’s the traitor?”

Krenis backed up, pistol wavering between us. “No, no. Not that simple. I need... I need guarantees. Safe passage. Payment. Then we talk.”

“You’re in no position to negotiate,” Korvan said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register that made the hair on my neck stand up.

I watched Krenis’s face, saw the panic rising. This approach wasn’t going to work. The man was terrified—and terrified people made stupid, unpredictable choices.

“Wait,” I said, stepping between them. “You can’t just threaten him. Let me handle this.”

Korvan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t stop me.

I turned to Krenis, keeping my hands visible. “Look, we just want information. You give us what we need, we’re gone. Nobody gets hurt.”

Krenis’s eyes darted between us. “You don’t understand. If I talk... if they find out I talked...”

“We can protect you,” I said.

“No one can protect me from them!”

“Who’s ‘them’?” I asked.

Korvan grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “This isn’t your fight, Iria. You don’t understand what’s at stake.”

I yanked my arm free, stepping closer to him, my voice low. “Maybe I don’t. But I know you’re not getting what you want by scaring him to death.”

We stood face to face, barely inches apart. I felt his breath on my skin, warm and surprisingly sweet. His expression shifted, anger giving way to something else as his eyes dropped briefly to my mouth.

The room suddenly felt too small, too hot. I should step back. I should look away. I should?—

“Wait!” Krenis yelled. “I’ll talk!”

The standoff had clearly pushed him to a breaking point. He looked between us, calculating his odds. Whatever he feared about the repercussions of talking, he’d realized being on the run from the Fangs forever was worse.

“There’s a data chip,” he said nervously. “In the console. It has names, dates, communications. Everything you need.”

Korvan moved toward the console, his attention focused on Krenis. I stayed where I was, my pulse still racing.

“If you’re lying—” Korvan began.

The world exploded.

The bunker entrance blew inward in a deafening roar of metal and concrete. The shock wave threw me forward. Dust and debris filled the air.

“Go!” Krenis screamed, already bolting for a back exit. He made it three steps before a plasma bolt cut through the haze, striking him mid-chest. He crumpled.

Korvan moved with inhuman speed, grabbing me and pulling me behind an overturned metal table as more shots sizzled through the air. Four heavily armed mercenaries pushed through the ruined doorway, their faces hidden behind tactical masks.

I drew my blaster, trying to control my breathing, to focus. Korvan pressed against my side, his body shielding me.

“Stay close,” he ordered, voice steady despite the chaos. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

More mercs poured through the entrance. Whoever they were, they’d come prepared. And they’d known exactly where to find us.

The traitor’s reach felt closer than ever.