Page 16

T he docking clamps met the hull with a dull thud as the Starfall settled into the private hangar.

Through the viewport, I watched the security barrier flicker to life, cutting us off from prying eyes.

It wasn’t the most expensive place to dock on Thodos Station, but it served our purpose: discretion.

I rolled my shoulder, testing the newly healed tissue where a plasma bolt had struck me days before. The wound had finally closed completely, leaving only a faint discoloration on my skin that would fade within another day.

Stretching again, I ran a final systems check while Iria shut down the engines.

Something about watching her work, completely in her element, made my chest constrict.

She wasn’t just a means to an end anymore. She’d become something I couldn’t afford to lose.

The realization struck me with physical force. I’d spent decades building walls around myself. Now this human woman had compromised them in a matter of days.

“All set,” Iria said, flipping the last switch. “Let’s move before someone decides to ask questions about our registry.”

I nodded, trying to focus on the mission ahead rather than the memory of her skin against mine just hours before. “What’s the least monitored route to the club district?”

“Follow me and stay close.” She grabbed her jacket, checking the concealed blaster in the inner pocket. “The maintenance corridors run parallel to most of the main walkways. We’ll be practically invisible.”

I bristled at taking orders. I’d always led - never followed. But Iria knew this area better than me, and this wasn’t the time for pride.

“Lead the way,” I said, more stiffly than I’d intended.

Iria shot me a knowing look. “Relax, big guy. You can go back to being all scary and in charge, once we get there.”

The maintenance corridors were narrow, dimly lit paths that snaked through the station’s infrastructure.

Service bots whirred past us, too focused on their programming to register our presence.

The air smelled of machine oil and recycled oxygen, with undertones of something metallic I couldn’t place.

Iria moved with absolute confidence, never hesitating at intersections, occasionally pressing herself against a wall to avoid a passing security detail. I matched her movements, though I had to duck occasionally to avoid overhead pipes.

“How do you know these routes so well?” I asked quietly as we passed through a junction.

“When you smuggle as long as I have, you learn every back door on every station,” she replied. “Plus, I used to date one of the infrastructure engineers. He showed me a few tricks.”

I felt an unexpected stab of jealousy. “An engineer?”

She glanced back with a half-smile. “Don’t worry. He got transferred to the outer rim three years ago. And he wasn’t nearly as good with his hands as you are.”

I growled softly, catching up to her and placing my hand at the small of her back.

“We should focus on the mission,” I said, though I kept my hand where it was.

She leaned into my touch for just a moment. “Of course. All business.”

The nightclub came into view as we emerged from the service exit.

The Red Nebula was exactly what you’d expect from a high-end establishment hosting illegal auctions: garish and expensive.

Its gleaming facade stood in stark contrast to the decaying infrastructure of the decommissioned docking ring surrounding it, like a polished gemstone set in rusted metal.

Patrons lined up at the front entrance, a mix of species dressed in their finest. The bouncers – two burly Kraelex with armor beneath their formal wear – selected who entered with practiced discrimination.

“Back entrance?” I asked.

Iria shook her head. “Too obvious. We go through the front. I have credentials.”

She produced two chits from her pocket. “These cost me a fortune last time I was here. VIP passes. No searches, no questions.”

“Where did you?—”

“Won them in a card game.” She winked. “From a very drunk Alliance official who probably shouldn’t have been gambling with government property.”

We approached the line from the side, and Iria immediately adopted a different posture – shoulders back, chin up, an air of entitlement that transformed her from scrappy smuggler to affluent patron in seconds.

The bouncers waved us through without hesitation when she flashed the passes.

The interior assaulted my senses – pulsing music, flashing lights, the mingled smells of expensive perfumes, alcohol, and body heat.

The crowd moved like a single organism around the central dance floor, while private booths lined the walls, their occupants hidden behind translucent privacy screens.

“The auction’s in the back room,” Iria whispered close to my ear. “But we can’t both go barging in. I’ll blend in, try to spot Miggs before he sees us.”

I nodded, scanning the room for potential threats. “I’ll position myself by the emergency exit. If things go wrong, that’ll be our way out.”

She reached up, adjusting the tiny comm device behind my ear. Her fingers brushed against the sensitive skin there, and I had to suppress a shudder.

“Keep this channel open,” she murmured. “And try not to look like you’re planning to murder everyone in the room.”

I watched her disappear into the crowd, her movements shifting to match the flow of dancers. Even knowing what to look for, I almost lost sight of her twice as she wove between patrons, picking up a drink along the way, laughing at something someone said as if she belonged.

I took my position near the exit, back against the wall, arms crossed. Around me, conversations ebbed and flowed.

“...heard the Alliance increased patrols after that weapons shipment went missing...”

“...swear, if Halkin tries to outbid me again, I’ll poison his drink...”

“...that Vinduthi by the door is making me nervous. Think he’s security?”

I tuned most of it out, keeping my focus split between the crowd and the hidden door that led to the auction room. Eventually, Iria’s voice came through the comm.

“You’re making the whole room nervous just by standing there.”

“Good,” I replied quietly. “Maybe they’ll clear out before I have to kill them.”

A soft laugh in my ear. “You know, I’m starting to enjoy your sense of humor.”

“Who says I’m joking?”

Another laugh. “I’ve spotted him. Near the front of the auction room. He’s got two guards – standard muscle, nothing special. Looks like he’s waiting for something.”

“Or someone,” I added. “Stay where you are. I’m moving in.”

The hidden door opened at my touch – Iria must have sliced the security while I wasn’t looking.

The auction room was smaller, more intimate, with rows of seats facing a small stage.

About thirty potential buyers sat in hushed anticipation, while a tall, spindly alien in formal attire prepared to begin the proceedings.

Miggs sat near the front, just as Iria had expected, flanked by two human bodyguards in matching black jackets.

The room fell silent as I walked down the center aisle. Even the auctioneer paused mid-sentence. Miggs turned, and I watched his expression change from confusion to recognition to fear in the span of seconds.

But then, surprisingly, he smiled.

“Korvan!” he called out, too loudly, too confidently. “Didn’t expect you to show up at my little business meeting. Care to bid?”

I stopped a few meters from him, aware that his bodyguards had shifted their positions slightly, hands moving toward concealed weapons.

“You’ve betrayed the Fangs for the last time, Miggs.”

His smile faltered only slightly. “Now, now. Business is business. No need for?—”

Miggs never finished his sentence. Instead, he pressed something in his hand, and suddenly the lights in the room flashed blindingly bright. The crowd erupted in panic. I heard the distinctive whine of blasters powering up, and I ducked just as the first shots flew over my head.

The bodyguards had drawn their weapons, firing wildly to cover Miggs as he bolted toward a side door. I rolled behind a row of seats as the auction-goers scrambled for exits, screaming and shoving each other.

I drew my own blaster, fired twice. The first shot caught one bodyguard in the shoulder, spinning him around. The second hit the other straight in the chest. Both fell, but the damage was done – Miggs had disappeared into the chaos.

“He’s running!” I snarled into the comm. “East side door!”

“I see him!” Iria’s voice came through clearly despite the noise. “He’s heading for the delivery entrance. I’m going after him!”

“Iria, wait?—”

But the comm went silent. I cursed, kicking aside a fallen chair as I sprinted toward the side door.

Two more of Miggs’ men appeared, blocking my path.

I didn’t slow down. The first one I hit with a flying tackle, smashing him into the wall hard enough to crack the decorative panel behind him.

The second got off one shot – which burned past my ear – before my fist connected with his throat.

I left them both gasping on the floor and burst through the side door into a service corridor. The alarm system had activated, bathing everything in pulsing red light. I heard shouting from the direction of the main club, security personnel trying to contain the situation.

Following the corridor, I found myself in the kitchen. Abandoned food sizzled on cooking surfaces, and staff hid beneath counters. I pushed through the back door into an alley, just in time to see a flash of auburn hair disappear around a corner up ahead.

Iria.

I ran after her, my longer stride eating up the distance, but when I rounded the corner, the alley stretched empty before me, branching into three different directions.

I stopped, used every keen sense at my disposal.

There… the sound of running footsteps fading away.

“Iria,” I hissed into the comm. Nothing but static answered me.

I stood there, breathing hard, torn between fury and admiration. She wasn’t just brave—she was reckless. And for some reason, I couldn’t stand the thought of her doing this alone.

I chose the middle path and started running.