Page 6

T he blue light of hyperspace cast strange patterns on Iria’s face as she piloted the Starfall . Her fingers danced across the controls, each movement precise. I watched her from my seat, analyzing her technique.

She’d surprised me so far. Most smugglers I’d dealt with crumbled under pressure, but Iria maintained her composure even when faced with my direct threats. Her resourcefulness in fixing the cooling system proved she knew her craft inside out. These were useful traits in an asset.

An asset. That’s all she was supposed to be. A means to retrieve the research container. Nothing more.

Then why did I keep replaying our moment in the maintenance bay? The way her breath caught when I moved close. The warmth of her skin against mine. The subtle scent of engine oil, and something uniquely her.

I clenched my jaw. This distraction was unprofessional. Dangerous. I shifted in my seat, focusing on the mission parameters.

“We’ll arrive in ten minutes,” Iria said without looking at me. “You planning to tell me what we’re going to find there, or do I get to be surprised?”

“The outpost should be abandoned. We land, retrieve the container, leave. Simple.”

She shot me a skeptical look. “Right. Because jobs with you are always simple.”

“Expecting complications?”

“With mercenaries like the Black Spikes hanging around this sector? Always.” She tapped a gauge on her console. “Plus, you’re too quiet. You get this look when you’re anticipating trouble.”

“Do I?”

“Your jaw tenses. The horns at your temples catch the light differently when you’re on alert.”

I’d never realized anyone paid such close attention to my mannerisms. It was both impressive and unsettling.

The ship dropped out of hyperspace with a slight shudder, and the vast emptiness of real space replaced the blue tunnel.

Before us loomed the mining outpost – a bloated, industrial monstrosity floating against the backdrop of stars.

Metal spires jutted at odd angles, punctuated by extraction towers and processing plants.

The station hung in orbit around a small, uninhabitable planet whose reddish glow cast the entire structure in an eerie light.

“Charming place,” Iria remarked. “Let me guess – ‘abandoned’ means ‘full of surprises,’ doesn’t it?”

“Stay close and don’t let your guard down,” I replied. “Surprises tend to be lethal, out here.”

As Iria guided the Starfall toward the main bay, I conducted visual scans of the exterior.

Scorch marks marred the metal hull around several airlocks.

Evidence of past violence. The outpost had been officially evacuated five years ago after the primary ore deposits were depleted, but such places rarely remained truly empty in border territories.

“No signals,” Iria noted. “No comms traffic, no warning beacons. But someone’s left the lights on.” She pointed to a distant section where faint illumination glowed from within.

“Minimal power for essential systems,” I said, but something didn’t fit. The pattern of active sections was too strategic. “Dock at the secondary bay instead of the main entrance.”

She raised an eyebrow but complied without question. “Expecting company?”

“Just being cautious.”

The Starfall glided into the smaller port with only minor adjustments. Iria powered down the engines but left the critical systems running – a smuggler’s habit. Always ready for a quick escape.

“Should I stay with the ship?” she asked.

“No. I need you with me.” The words came out before I’d fully analyzed them. Tactically, having her guard our exit point made sense. But I wanted her where I could see her. Protect her.

We armed ourselves – my Vinduthi plasma rifle and sidearm, her blaster pistol. I noticed she also slipped a small vibro-blade into her boot. Smart.

The airlock cycled open to reveal the docking bay. The smell hit me first – stale air, metal corrosion, and the faint tang of burned circuitry. My enhanced senses picked up subtler notes beneath: recent passage. Human sweat. Gun oil.

“Someone’s been here,” I murmured.

The bay itself told a story of hasty abandonment. Broken crates lay scattered across the floor. A loading mech stood frozen mid-task, its power cells long dead. Dust covered most surfaces, but not evenly.

I crouched to examine a pattern of footprints that cut through the grime. “Recent. Multiple individuals. Military-grade boots.”

“Not miners coming back for leftover equipment, then,” Iria observed. Her hand rested on her blaster, eyes constantly scanning our surroundings.

“No. Something else.”

We moved through the bay toward the main corridor, our footsteps creating the only sound in the vast space. The overhead lights flickered weakly, creating elongated shadows that danced and shifted as we passed.

“Which way?” Iria whispered.

“Level four, storage section C.”

I took point, moving with the silent precision drilled into me through years of combat training. Iria followed close behind, matching my pace.

The corridor narrowed as we progressed, the ceiling lowering.

The walls bore the marks of the outpost’s industrial past – pipes running along joints, exposed wiring, instructional signage faded almost to illegibility.

Most of the side doors were sealed shut, though some had been forced open, the contents of the rooms beyond long since looted.

At an intersection, I paused, listening. Through the silence came the soft hum of active power conduits. This section shouldn’t have power. Someone had redirected energy flow.

“What is it?” Iria asked.

“We’re not alone.”

Her eyes darted to the shadows ahead. “Black Spikes?”

“Possibly.” I considered our options. “The information about this retrieval job must have leaked. Someone in the Fangs has betrayed Alkard.”

“Your boss has enemies even among his own people?”

“Power always attracts those hungry for it.”

We proceeded more cautiously now, taking a maintenance route rather than the direct path. The shafts were narrow, forcing us to move in single file. I kept Iria behind me, acutely aware of every sound and movement she made.

As we approached a junction, I spotted something on the floor – a discarded ration pack. I picked it up. The wrapper still held warmth.

“They’re close,” I said. “Be ready.”

The storage area lay just ahead, beyond a set of heavy blast doors. A security panel glowed beside it, requiring authorization.

I pulled a decoder from my belt and attached it to the panel. Numbers flickered rapidly across the screen as it cycled through potential codes.

“How long will that take?” Iria asked.

“Not long.” I turned to her. “When we enter, stay behind me.”

Her expression hardened. “I can handle myself.”

“That’s not?—”

“I didn’t survive this long by hiding behind anyone, not even a Vinduthi warrior.”

The frustration in her voice caught me off guard. “I’m not questioning your capabilities.”

“Aren’t you?” She stepped closer, challenging me despite our height difference. “I’m not just some tool for your mission, Korvan. I’m your partner on this job, whether you like it or not.”

The word ‘partner’ struck me oddly. I’d never considered any human my partner before. Servants, assets, tools – yes. Not equals.

The decoder beeped softly, interrupting whatever I might have said. The blast doors slid open with a hydraulic hiss, revealing the storage chamber beyond.

The room stretched before us, cavernous and dimly lit. Rows of shelving units created a maze-like pattern, most empty now but some still holding sealed containers. At the center of the room sat our objective – a government-grade storage pod, its surface gleaming despite the poor lighting.

Something was wrong. The container sat too prominently, too perfectly positioned. Like bait.

I raised my hand, signaling Iria to stop. “It’s too easy,” I whispered.

The warehouse lights suddenly brightened to full intensity, momentarily blinding us. A voice called from the darkness.

“Took you long enough, Korvan.”

Four figures emerged from hiding spots around the room. Black Spikes operatives, each heavily armed. Their leader stepped forward – a scarred Krellan, with cybernetic enhancements visible along his jawline.

“Vex!” I stated. “One of the Black Spikes’ commanders himself. Your syndicate must want this badly.”

He laughed. “Still doing Alkard’s dirty work? The mighty Vinduthi, reduced to errand boys while the Black Spikes grow stronger every day.”

I cataloged our options, measuring distances and angles. Four visible enemies, likely more in hiding. The container sat twenty meters away. Iria stood slightly behind me, her breathing controlled but rapid.

“How did you know we’d be here?” I asked, stalling for time.

“Credits talk. Someone in your organization values money more than loyalty.” Vex gestured toward the container.

“That research is worth more than you know, Korvan. Imagine weapons designed specifically for Vinduthi weaknesses—plasma that burns hotter against our skin, compounds that disrupt our healing abilities.”

His smile widened. “The kind of advantage that shifts power permanently.”

My blood ran cold at the confirmation of our fears, but I refused to let anything show on my face. He didn’t deserve it.

“You’d need to live long enough to use such weapons.”

Iria’s voice came low, meant only for me. “Three more behind the south shelves.”

I’d missed them. She’d spotted what I hadn’t. My estimation of her rose further.

“You know I can’t do that, Vex.” The suggestion alone made my blood run cold—using those weapons would make me no better than the Consortium.

“Then we do this the fun way.”

Everything happened at once. Vex drew his weapon. I shoved Iria toward a stack of crates as blaster fire erupted from multiple directions. I dove in the opposite direction, drawing my own weapon and firing as I rolled.

My first shot caught a mercenary in the chest. He fell without a sound. My second shot missed, as Vex dove behind cover.

Plasma bolts scorched the air around me. I kept moving, using the shelving units for cover. From the other side of the room, Iria had positioned herself strategically, laying down covering fire with surprising accuracy.

Two more mercenaries closed in on my position.

I holstered my weapon and extended my claws, waiting until they rounded the corner.

The first one never saw me. I struck with Vinduthi speed, claws slashing across his throat.

The second fired wildly, but I grabbed his weapon, wrenching it from his grasp before disabling him with a precise strike.

Across the room, Iria was holding her own, though her fighting style lacked formal training.

She compensated with quick thinking and unpredictable movements.

When one mercenary rushed her position, she used a metal pipe as an improvised weapon, striking with enough force to stagger him before finishing him with a well-placed shot.

I circled back toward the container, eliminating another Black Spike who attempted to flank Iria. The skirmish was turning in our favor when Vex emerged with a heavy assault cannon.

“Down!” I shouted.

Iria dove as a barrage of plasma fire cut through the shelving units. Metal warped and melted under the onslaught.

I sprinted toward Vex, dodging fire as I closed the distance. He tracked me with the cannon, its barrel glowing hot with repeated discharge.

I almost reached him when pain exploded across my side. A stray bolt had caught me, burning through armor and into flesh. I stumbled but didn’t fall, pushing through the pain as I’d been trained to do.

“Korvan!” Iria’s voice cut through the chaos. “Are you?—”

“Focus on the fight!” I barked, straightening despite the white-hot agony searing my side. Blood soaked through my uniform, but I forced it from my mind.

Vex smiled when he saw my injury. “Not so invincible after all.”