Chapter 1 - Prax
I cast a lazy glance around me.
The Minjo—a sort of underground gambling den where I’ve been stuck for a good four hours—is hazy with smoke rising from dozens of small bowls scattered across the place, all burning some kind of relaxing herb.
The scent is acrid, barely masking the reek of locally distilled alcohol, which has clearly been flowing freely tonight.
The luminescent composite walls cast just enough light to keep every corner of the room under surveillance. A single beam from the ceiling, however, shines directly onto the central gaming table.
At this late hour, the place is nearly deserted. Just a couple of heavily intoxicated individuals from a species I can’t quite identify are slumped on the faded couches in the far-right corner of the room.
Lena, the dealer seated across from me, keeps a sharp eye on the players, occasionally flashing me a flirtatious smile.
And of course, there are my three companions at the table.
To my left: a foul-smelling human whose booze-soaked breath and glassy eyes suggest he won’t last much longer.
Next to him, on the far end of the table, are two Neroots. Their blue-gray fur and laid-back vibe scream “young males just entering adulthood.” They’ve drunk in moderation and are still fairly alert despite the late hour. I can’t tell if they’re brothers or just friends.
Honestly, I feel like I’ve wasted my time here. A contact told me I might find some useful info in this forgotten corner of space, but none of the people around seem likely to offer any clues about what I came looking for—intel on the local trafficking routes in this part of the galaxy.
I decide to stick around for two or three more rounds before heading back to the Bakartia, my two-seater ship. No point wasting more time in this dump, especially since I could use a little sleep.
I refocus on the current round of Ryu no Saikoro.
With my first two rolls, I’ve got two pairs—a guaranteed Nami. Solid combo. I should be able to double my points by matching my initial bet. Of the three others at the table, two didn’t raise their bets, which means their hands probably suck. The third threw two more chips into the pot.
“My glass is empty!” the human groans, peering mournfully into his mug.
He’s speaking in the only human language recognized by the Coalition: English.
Other languages commonly used in this loose alliance of smugglers, dealers, and power-hungry types include Nanjii—the most widespread—then Srebat, Brolok, and even Polarian, the ancient language of the Confed’s founders!
A basic translator helps everyone understand those five dialects.
After all, how can you run a business if no one’s speaking the same lingo?
Suddenly, every hair on my neck stands on end.
My whole body goes on red alert, even though I haven’t dropped my guard for a second.
My instincts rarely fail me, and I know—know—a threat is coming. Without losing my casual grin, I quickly scan everyone within view.
Lena hasn’t changed—still dutifully recording scores.
The human next to me seems lost in his drunk thoughts.
The two Neroots? They’ve been caught up in some flirty eye contact for the last few minutes.
So, not brothers after all, I note briefly.
Nope. The danger’s coming from somewhere else.
In the reflection of a glowing scoreboard behind me, I catch a glimpse of someone a few feet back. That’s it. That’s where it’s coming from. Every fiber in my body screams it.
Ignoring the pile of credits on the table, I dive—
Just in time to avoid a hail of gunfire that tears through the gaming board.
Shit!
Weapons are supposed to be banned in places like this! And that one is clearly a Coalition-grade piercing weapon—designed to destroy, furniture and all! Not the kind we use in the Confederation, which come with a stun setting.
How did this guy sneak it past Minjo’s security scans? No idea.
One thing’s clear—I’m not safe here. And I don’t even know how many are after me.
Just one bounty hunter? Or a whole team?
I grope inside my jacket lining until my fingers find the familiar contours of my two hidden companions: shurikens made of composite alloy, courtesy of the Intergalactic Confederation. Undetectable by Coalition scanners.
Carefully, I pull them from the inner pocket and grip one in each hand.
Around me—silence.
Lena’s crouched behind a chair just a few steps away.
Beyond the bitter scent of her fear, her red-tinged skin has gone pale, and her long ears are flattened back against her head as if trying to disappear.
The coppery tang of blood hits my nose from the left. I don’t hear any groaning, though—whoever’s hit isn’t conscious.
Has to be the human.
I stay alert. My attacker’s lying in wait, ready to shoot the second I move. Maybe he’s not alone.
Then—movement. A second shot rings out.
I use the moment to shift my position slightly and catch a glimpse of my enemy. Scaly greenish leather.
Penubian.
Could it be Bully, my old associate? Has he finally tracked me down after two years of chasing my tail to get revenge?
But this doesn’t feel like Bully. He’s the loud type. If it were him, he’d already be boasting about finding me and rattling off a list of my so-called betrayals.
No, this guy’s working solo.
A peppery scent makes my nose twitch.
“You’re hurt,” one of the Neroots whispers.
“It’s nothing—just a scratch,” the other replies.
“Look, the Human’s dead. Don’t move till this guy’s gone!”
So that’s the spicy smell—his blood.
Human blood has a sharper, more metallic tang. Like the kind drifting from the left.
I’m stuck behind a chunk of broken furniture.
Cornered.
Blocked from the exit.
I shift just enough to peek—and crack, another shot nearly takes my ear off. I fire back, whipping one of my shurikens toward the source of the gunfire.
An angry hiss tells me I hit flesh. Not fatal, unfortunately.
Options? Limited. One weapon left, plus my claws. And the exit’s still too far.
The bastard’s got the advantage—the overhead light illuminates his side of the room.
Fine. I fling my last shuriken—this time at the light itself. Thunk. Darkness.
Now we’re on more equal footing.
Not completely—I still reek of adrenaline and blood—but at least he can’t see me clearly anymore.
I’ve spent years around Bully. I know Penubians don’t have great eyesight. Or hearing. What they do have are thermal pits and a tongue that picks up scent and air vibrations.
In other words, he can still smell me. But with two blood scents in the room—human and Neroot—it should throw him off.
“All right, Sadjim, I don’t wanna be here all night!
” my attacker calls out, his voice thick with that Penubian hiss.
“So why don’t you crawl outta your hole and save everyone a little pain?
I don’t know how many of those sharp toys you’ve got, but it’s probably not a lot.
So come out, slow and easy, hands behind your head, and we’ll keep this clean! ”
Ah.
He doesn’t know I’m out of shurikens.
And since he’s willing to talk… let’s see what this is really about.
“You sure you’re after me?” I ask casually. “’Cause you’ve already killed a Human and wounded a Neroot.”
“It’s you, all right,” he growls, annoyed. “If I wanted you dead, I’d have blown this dump to pieces already!”
Panicked squeals echo from nearby.
“And what exactly do you want with me?” I ask. “We’ve never met—trust me, I’d remember! And if I insulted your mother or sister, I sincerely apologize,” I add with a smirk.
His answer comes fast and furious—another shot, this one way too close.
Yeah, my voice gave away my location.
“Come on, get out here!” he barks.
“So you can mess up my fur? No thanks.”
“If you surrender, I promise not to hurt you,” he offers, hissing sweetly.
Right. Like I don’t know your kind. Loyalty and honor? Not exactly Penubian values.
“You still haven’t told me what this is about.”
“Your head’s got a bounty on it,” he replies. “One of my cousins put it there. I don’t know why—it’s none of my business. I’m just gonna deliver you and collect a fat wad of credits.”
“Maybe you’re mistaken. Bully and I go way back,” I lie.
“Great. Then you two can talk it out. Now come quietly.”
“Hmm. Depends. Where is Bully right now? ‘Cause I’ve got better things to do—”
I don’t wait for the answer.
I leap over my cover and slam into the Penubian, sending us both crashing to the floor.
He’s armed—I’m not. But the shock makes him drop his weapon. He punches me in the gut.
I punch back. Hard.
We grapple like wild animals. The Neroots use the chaos to sneak out with Lena in tow.
Problem is, Penubians have thick reptilian hide, just like our fur. Punches don’t do much.
I dodge his venomous fangs and—
He kicks me off with brute force. I land near one of my shurikens. Perfect. I grab it and hurl it at his throat.
He can see big shapes in the dark—but not something small and fast.
It slices deep into his neck. He collapses, grabbing at the gushing wound, green blood spraying everywhere.
I walk up and crouch beside him.
“Tell me where I can find Bully, and I’ll call for help. Stop you from bleeding out right here.”
He probably won’t make it, judging by how fast his vital fluid’s pouring out.
No need to let him know that, though.
His once-glossy scales are now dull, lifeless.
Realizing it’s over, he finally speaks.
“Sssstd zssiddd shuduyit!” he gasps in his native tongue.
Thanks to the Confed’s neural implant tucked in my brain, I understand him perfectly. I can speak any recorded language, and learn new ones within hours. But I don’t let any of that show. Not in a backwater Coalition outpost like this one.
“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” I reply with a sympathetic shrug. “You must be in terrible pain…”
“Sssstd zssiddd shuduyit!” he repeats—then collapses for good.
One thing’s for sure—with his final breath, he confirmed the intel in Penubian: Bully’s hiding out in the SS-3954 solar system.
I get to my feet, retrieve both my shurikens, wipe them roughly on my pants, and walk out of this godforsaken dump.
No point calling for help—it’s already too late for the poor bastard.
As for me?
Setting course for SS-3954!