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I marched the human through the back hallway of the Dead Man’s Dock, my hand firm on her upper arm but not crushing. Alkard taught me the fine line between showing strength and causing unnecessary harm. Most humans broke too easily.

This one—Iria Jann—hadn’t broken yet.

The private room waited at the end of a narrow corridor lined with pipes that hissed with steam.

The bar owner had cleared out when my men arrived.

Smart decision. The door slid open at my approach, revealing a small, stark space with metal walls and a single overhead light.

A security bulb, cheap and harsh, cast everyone’s face in unflattering angles.

“Sit,” I ordered, releasing her arm and gesturing to one of the two chairs at the small metal table.

She rubbed her arm where I’d gripped it. “Careful with the merchandise. I bruise easily.”

I said nothing, placing the stolen package between us on the table.

A blue glow pulsed through the thin seam of the container, bathing our faces in cool light.

Alliance tech—military grade weapons systems with neural interface capabilities.

The kind that gave even a weak, untrained human the reflexes of a combat veteran.

“You have no idea what you were carrying,” I said.

Iria leaned back in her chair, her body language deceptively relaxed, but I caught the subtle tension in her neck, and the way her eyes darted toward the exit.

“Enlighten me, then.”

“Neural interface targeting systems. Military grade. With this,” I tapped the box, “even a child could operate heavy weaponry with deadly precision.”

“No wonder everyone wants it.” Her fingers drummed against the tabletop. “Look, I told you—I’m just the delivery person.”

“You’re a smuggler,” I corrected. “Iria Jann, captain of the Starfall . Known for slipping past security grids and blockades without detection.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Been checking up on me?”

“The Vinduthi make it a point to know every operator on our territory.”

“And by ‘territory,’ you mean half of Thodos Station?” She crossed her arms. “I wasn’t aware I needed Vinduthi permission to make deliveries here.”

“When the delivery involves tech stolen from one of our arranged purchases, you do.” I traced one of the orange markings on my arm, a habit when thinking. “Who put you in contact with Miggs?”

“Some guy named Lenz. Contact of a contact. Said it was a simple job—pick up from a shuttle bay on the Merchant level, drop at the Dock. Half payment up front, half on delivery.”

“You’re lying.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Lenz is one of our informants. He doesn’t deal in tech.”

A flush spread across her cheeks. “Fine. It was a woman named Dara. But everything else is true.”

I studied her face. Humans showed so much in their expressions, even when they tried to hide it. This one wore her defiance openly, but fear flickered beneath. Not terror, though—she wasn’t panicking. Just the healthy fear of someone who understood the danger they faced.

“Better,” I acknowledged. “Though still not the full truth.”

Her jaw set. “I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“Start with why you took a job delivering stolen Alliance tech through Vinduthi territory without checking out your clients properly.” I leaned forward. “A smuggler of your caliber should have known better.”

She glanced away, a tell. “I needed the money.”

“For what?”

“Does it matter?” Her voice sharpened. “Docking fees, fuel cells, repairs—the Starfall isn’t cheap to maintain. And I’ve got a loan shark breathing down my neck.”

Now we’d reached the heart of it. I nodded. “Money problems. How much do you owe?”

“Ten thousand credits.”

“That’s significant.” I sat back, the chair creaking under my weight. “And the payment for this delivery?”

“Three thousand.” She frowned. “Not enough to clear my debt, but enough to keep me flying another month.”

I considered her situation. A desperate smuggler with a ship to maintain and debts to pay.

Useful. Exploitable. Under different circumstances, I might have simply eliminated her, but something about her intrigued me.

The way she’d warned me before Miggs fired.

The courage to face down Vinduthi soldiers without breaking.

“Tell me about the Starfall ,” I said.

The question surprised her. “What about it?”

“Specifications. Modifications. Range.”

Her eyes grew suspicious, but she answered, “Modified Stellar Rim freighter. Custom engines, reinforced hull plating. Shielding that doesn’t register on standard scanners.” Pride crept into her voice. “She’s fast, maneuverable, and can slip past most security checkpoints undetected.”

“The ship that made the Caraxis Blockade run,” I mused.

“So you keep saying.” She shifted in her seat. “What does my ship have to do with anything?”

“Everything.” I tapped my fingers on the package. “The Fangs have need of a smuggler with your particular talents.”

She narrowed her eyes. “For what, exactly?”

“I’m offering you a choice.” I kept my voice steady. “Work for me—exclusively—for one month. Make the deliveries I require, gather the information I need, and in return, I’ll clear your debts.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.” I nodded. “Ten thousand to your loan shark, plus enough to cover your operating costs. You’ll end the month with a clean slate.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I turn you over to Alkard for interfering with Fang business.” I let the implication hang in the air. Alkard’s methods of dealing with those who crossed the Fangs were legendary. Not all of the stories were exaggerated.

Iria crossed her arms. “Doesn’t sound like much of a choice.”

“It’s more than most get.”

She bit her lower lip, thinking. The gesture drew my attention to her mouth, which was surprisingly full for her otherwise angular face. I looked away, irritated with myself for noticing such a detail.

“What kind of jobs?” she asked finally.

“Various deliveries. Information gathering. Nothing beyond your capabilities.”

“Dangerous?”

“Potentially.”

“Illegal?”

I almost laughed. “You’re a smuggler. Does that matter?”

“Depends on the kind of illegal.” She leaned forward. “I don’t run people. I don’t deliver to slavers. And I don’t transport anything that breathes unless they’re paying passengers.”

“Admirable principles for a criminal.”

“Even criminals have lines they don’t cross.”

I studied her, impressed despite myself. “The Fangs don’t deal in slavery. Alkard has... strong views on the practice.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that answer.

“We primarily deal in information, technology, and certain restricted substances,” I continued. “Your duties would involve transporting packages similar to this one,” I gestured to the tech between us, “as well as gathering intelligence from contacts across the station.”

Iria blew out a breath, considering. “One month?”

“One month.”

“And after that, I’m free to go? No strings attached?”

“Provided you fulfill your end of our arrangement, yes.”

She drummed her fingers on the table again. “I want it in writing. A contract.”

“The Vinduthi don’t use written contracts. Our word is our bond.”

“Well, I’m not Vinduthi,” she countered. “And in my experience, promises evaporate when they become inconvenient.”

Clever woman. I reached inside my jacket and withdrew a small data pad.

“Terms,” I said, sliding it across the table.

“One month of exclusive service to the Fangs, specifically under my command. In return, all your debts cleared and safe passage from Thodos Station at the conclusion of your contract.”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise as she took the pad. “You came prepared.”

“I rarely leave matters to chance.”

She scanned the document, her brow furrowing as she read. “What’s this about my ship?”

“The Starfall remains yours, but during the month of your service, we may need to install certain... modifications.”

“What kind of modifications?” Her tone sharpened.

“Enhanced shielding. Communications scramblers. Nothing that would compromise your vessel’s integrity.”

She looked up, eyes flashing. “My ship stays as is. No modifications without my express approval.”

I admired her protectiveness. Most smugglers felt the same about their vessels. “Fair enough. No changes without your consent.”

She returned to reading, her finger tracing down the screen. “And housing? It says I’ll be provided accommodation on Thodos.”

“You’ll stay at a Fang safehouse. More secure than your ship’s docking bay.”

“I sleep on my ship.”

“Not for the next month, you don’t.” I leaned forward. “If you’re working for the Fangs, you’ll be a target for our rivals. The safehouse offers protection.”

She frowned. “I’ve managed to stay alive this long without Vinduthi protection.”

“And how’s that working out for you?” I gestured to our surroundings. “One botched delivery away from execution?”

Her expression darkened, but she didn’t argue the point. Instead, she returned to the contract, making a small sound of displeasure. “This clause about ‘reasonable force’—what exactly does that mean?”

“It means that if you attempt to flee before fulfilling your obligations, I’m authorized to retrieve you.”

“Retrieve,” she repeated flatly. “Like lost property?”

“Like a valuable asset.” I kept my tone flat. “One month, Iria Jann. Serve it well, and you walk away with your debts cleared and your freedom intact.”

She stared at me across the table, measuring my words against the threat I represented. I waited, patient. Humans often needed time to process their options, even when the choice was clear.

“What guarantee do I have that you’ll honor your end?” she asked finally.

“The Vinduthi keep their word. It’s a matter of honor.”

“Honor doesn’t mean much in the smuggling business.”

“Which is why you’re in this situation to begin with.” I bared my teeth in what might have passed for a smile. “But unlike your previous employers, when I make a promise, I keep it.”