Page 8 of Relyn (Warriors of Etlon #6)

Relyn

C aptain Rutra was waiting in the cargo hold with ten other men.

They surrounded a single container that was about two cubic meters.

It was positioned on a hover platform that was powered down next to a beaten up shuttle craft that had definitely seen better days.

Relyn wondered if it was even space worthy.

Any good Mahdfel captain would have broken it down for parts by now.

“All right,” the captain said, stepping into the informal circle that they had formed. “This here cargo needs to be delivered and payment needs to be collected. There’s a certain ship approaching that has promised me a good deal of credits for the contents, no questions asked.”

Relyn knew this was a code that protected both the buyer and courier. If the courier was stopped and searched, he could deny all knowledge of what might be in the container. The courier would also be less tempted to steal a mystery prize where the cost and resale value could vary wildly.

“How many?” Lysh, a particularly short and ugly Mercadian said. His yellow skin prickled as he stared at the box and the shuttle.

“Three, under Grom’s leadership,” Rutra said, pointing to another Georgun, who, rumor had it, was Rutra’s nephew, or cousin, or something. He’d taken the kid under his wing. Unfortunately the kid was not too smart, and had no leadership experience. This was bound to be a shit show.

There was a long heavy pause and no one stepped forward. Rel took this as the opportunity to step forward.

“I got nothing better to do. There anything on the side for it?” Relyn said, not looking at anyone in particular. He knew that asking for more money was the ballsy thing to do, but it was the right thing. Any crew worth his salt was always looking for more on the side.

Rutra gave him a once over, as if looking him over for the first time. “Might be. Might be,” he said slowly.

“Well, then I’m in,” Lysh said.

“I was promised the next opportunity,” a nasty looking Pnagrin by the name of Ketle.

Relyn had very few interactions with him, but his reputation was just as ugly as his face.

With oversized arms and tusks protruding from his mouth, Ketle much preferred beating the shit out of problems rather than the more subtle approach.

“Then that makes four,” Rutra said.

“Opportunity to lead,” Ketle added.

“I wouldn’t exactly call this that kind of an opportunity,” Rutra said. “Grom’s already been briefed on the details. He knows the buyer and what price he’s supposed to get. We don’t have time to sit down and bring another lead on board. But you can be second,” he added.

Ketle drooled a bit in anger, but said nothing more.

Lysh hit the controls on the hover platform and it glided up the hatch ramp and into the small bay area of the craft.

With only two chairs up front for the piloting crew, the others would have to sit in the back, with barely enough room for stretching out their legs.

Not that Lysh would have much of a problem with that, considering he was a good meter shorter than any of them.

Grom’s height was as tall or as short as he wanted to make it, but he would be given the pilot seat, whether or not he did any actual piloting.

A shuttle like this practically flew itself, no matter how beat up it was.

The crew followed up the hatch ramp and without asking Ketle and Grom took up the front seats and Relyn settled himself on the bench near the exit.

From this position, he could see the whole shuttle crew.

He’d be the first off and able to assess any issues when they landed.

“Where are we going?” Ketle asked as the door closed.

The transport roared to life. Despite looking like a piece of shit on the outside, someone had upgraded the engines.

It was a smart move, but making a fast getaway might not be enough if they got into trouble.

Relyn doubted if it was fitted with any more weaponry than the two tiny laser cutters mounted to the bow.

As the shuttle lifted off, it became clear where they were going. The Misery had taken up orbit around a miserable planet that looked more rock and desert than anything else. It was the perfect spot for a handoff.

“What’s the pay off?” Ketle asked. Grom stayed silent.

“What’s the cargo?” Ketle asked.

“Who are the buyers?” Still nothing from Grom. Ketle actually growled. Lysh stood up and leaned into the space between the two chairs.

“The captain knows what’s best. The captain trusts you, Grom. But he also trusts us. We can’t walk in there blind. We gotta know what weapons to use to keep you all safe and cozy.”

“I can protect myself,” Grom finally spat out.

“Sure you can, Boss,” Lysh said. “But that’s the perks of being in charge. You don’t have to get your hands dirty.”

Lysh’s interference probably saved Ketle from throwing punches, though he would have been sorely disappointed by the experience.

Punching a Georgun was just about as useful as punching water.

They just flowed around the momentum of your fist and reformed on the other side.

No, to kill one physically, you had to rip their mass into several pieces, not allowing their organs or circulation system to function properly, slowly suffocating them to death.

Much more efficient were lasers, heat, electricity or poison.

Those methods were much preferred to trying to beat one to death, which could take hours.

Relyn did not kill often, and only when necessary, unless he was faced with a Suhlik.

The only good Suhlik was a dead Suhlik. Caldar had made it part of his studies, though, to know the weaknesses of each species they might come across.

Lysh’s species, for example, was vulnerable to heat.

Above 90 degrees their organs began to shut down in a matter of minutes.

Ketle had a nerve center in the middle of his back, right between his shoulder blades.

A quick punch landed in the right spot would send the brute to his knees, and possibly paralyze his arms for a moment.

The shuttle whirred and clunked down on the surface.

As the hatch ramped hissed and lowered, a rocky outcropping was slowly revealed.

The air was thin, but breathable. This would put Lysh and Ketle at a disadvantage, but Relyn and Grom absorbed oxygen through their skin, and didn’t rely on lungs to process it.

Another ship was waiting. It appeared to be the opposite of the one they traveled in.

It was well financed, shiny and armed to the teeth.

The kid had parked the shuttle in the direct path of their laser cannons.

Any smart one would have put it to the aft, or better yet, alongside, where they’d have to retrain the guns before firing a shot.

Three Adrastians stepped forward, which probably meant there were at least one, possibly two left in the ship.

Relyn didn’t trust Adrastians. As a whole they were quite untrustworthy.

Most Mahdfel found themselves uneasy around the super pigmented species.

Everything about them, down to their bones and organs were completely black.

You could never quite tell which way they were looking, because their pupils were hidden in inky eyeballs.

Killing Adrastians involved the opposite technique of Georguns.

They were practically immune to all poisons and shocks.

A laser blast to the head or a knife to the gullet was the fastest way to end them.

Grom stood up and headed to the exit, but found himself blocked by the cargo and Relyn.

“Let’s move it!” Grom said as he tried to crane around the side of the crate.

“Better if we negotiate first,” Lysh said. Relyn agreed. Once they got the crate off the ship, they could easily lose possession, though, while he’d been sitting there, Relyn had added a passcode onto the hover controls. He hoped the cargo was too heavy to move easily without it.

Grom let out a flubbery sigh, and then shifted his mass into a thin wedge that allowed him to pass around the cargo. “Fine.”

Lysh scrambled over the bench to join him.

Ketle was the only one now trapped behind the cargo, and when he realized it, he was not happy.

Relyn, Lysh, and Grom all exchanged glances and decided silently among themselves that Ketle would stay on the ship for now.

They proceeded down the hatch ramp together.

The Adrastians immediately pegged him as the biggest threat. They were correct. Relyn kept his movements loose and casual. This was all just a friendly business deal… until it wasn’t.

“You ready to pay up?” Grom said. His nerves were beginning to show and he was losing finite control of his form. He sounded like he had a mouthful of rocks.

“All business and no pleasure?” one of the Adrastians said. “No hello, how are you?”

“Hello, how are you? Where’s my money?” Except he said it with a lisp.

The three Adrastians laughed at this. Grom wasn’t laughing.

“All right, back to the ship we go,” Lysh said, turning around to head back to the ship. “You know we ain’t cleared to negotiate, so if they want to try and stiff us, I’m sure the boss has a second buyer lined up.”

Grom paused, obviously not catching on that Lysh was bluffing. “I can negotiate!”

“Well, then, let’s negotiate,” The Adrastian said.

“The price is set at 50. No questions asked,” Grom said.

“That’s funny. I was told 30,” The Adrastian said.

“No, 50. It was definitely 50.”

“I thought you said you could negotiate.” The Adrastians were slowly drawing to the right, out of the line of fire.

Grom was going to get them all killed. There was no time now to move the ship.

They had probably seen the hunk of junk and figured the container shielding would protect it.

They were about to blow it open like a nut.