Chapter 2
Tavryn
Istare up at the ceiling of my ship as the human on the video call drones on and on, hoping he’ll finally get the point sometime in the next century.
Humans are the absolute worst to deal with.
They act like they’re the only beings that exist in the entire galaxy, likely because up until fairly recently in their history, they thought they were.
Stupid, small minded, uncultured humans.
If these jobs didn’t pay so well, there’s no way I would even bother with them.
I wouldn’t even come within a light-year of Earth if I had a choice.
Unfortunately, I’m in constant need of credits and sorely lacking in employment options.
Deciding to give the human at least some modicum of politeness, since he is paying me a ridiculous sum of money, I begin counting in my head to keep myself calm. I only make it to fifteen before I lose my patience and interrupt.
“Alright, that’s quite enough.” I sit up straight, glaring at the video feed. “I received your file. Once half the credits hit my account, I’ll go and fetch your precious little Benjamin.”
“It’s Remington,” the man huffs, his cheeks turning a very amusing shade of scarlet. Are humans supposed to get that red? If they aren’t, hopefully he’ll transfer the credits to me before he fully succumbs to whatever strange human ailment he’s suffering from.
“Benjamin, Remington, what’s the difference?” I reply with a scoff and a dismissive wave of my hand. All these ridiculous human names always sound the same. “There’s an image of him in the file like I asked, correct?”
The man nods. An image flashes up on the screen in front of me of a young human with dark, carefully styled hair wearing a suit and tie. I squint at the screen. The file said the target was twenty-seven. I’ve seen enough humans to know that the one in the photographs is definitely not twenty-seven.
“Is this really the most recent image you have? You couldn’t find anything from this decade?
” I take his silence as a no. “You all look the same to me. Without an up-to-date photograph, there’s no guarantee I’ll bring back the right one.
” I flash him a smirk, showing off my fangs.
It’s fun to watch how quickly the color drains from his face.
“As a reminder, there’s no guarantee I’ll bring him back at all, and if I can’t, no one else can. ”
“It’s up to date enough,” he huffs.
I glance down to inspect my perfectly trimmed nails. The polish is a little chipped. Might be time for a new coat. I normally go with black to match my general aesthetic, but maybe red. Or a deep purple to bring out my eyes. “Good, because the deposit is nonrefundable.”
“But it’s five hundred thousand credits!” the man exclaims. Huh. And now he’s red again. “Do you realize how much that converts to in U.S. dollars?”
“I don’t even know what a U.S. dollar is.
” It’s not true, but I love how huffy humans—especially “American” humans—get when I remind them just how insignificant they are in this vast galaxy.
Their money has no power here, at least not yet.
Based on their sorely lacking technology, which was admittedly set back several centuries by the recent meddling of a governing body called the United Federation of Otherworlders, it likely never will. “There’s a reason I only take credits.”
The human continues to huff and puff, muttering a myriad of things I don’t pay attention to but assume aren’t nice.
After a moment, there’s a ding to my left, and I glance over to see Stells confirming the money has hit my account.
Perfect. I interrupt him mid-grumble. “You’ll hear an update from me in eight to twelve Earth months. ” I go to hit the end call button.
“Wait.”
I pause. The human is definitely thinking about something. This is clearly a very difficult task for a being of his intelligence.
“How much would it cost to take someone away from Earth?”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. Stupid humans and their stupid nonunderstanding of the galactic political climate.
“It costs nothing, because no one can do it,” I inform him, speaking slowly as if I were explaining something complicated to a child.
That’s basically what humans are, compared to all other sentient species. Babies.
“Humans are a resource controlled by the UFO. If other beings or organizations start taking them—” again, but I don’t say that part “—it’ll start an interplanetary war. The last time we had one of those, an entire planet was destroyed.”
“Actually, the planet that was destroyed was the one they were fighting over, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I’m sure Earth is prepared to be caught in the crossfire.” Earth isn’t. I know that. Even he knows that. The planet would be destroyed in an instant. The thought brings a smile to my face.
“Why does it matter if you’re untrackable?” the man has the gall to ask. “Or at least, that’s what it claims on your card.”
My fingers tighten ever so slightly on the arms of my chair. How dare this disgusting, insignificant human question me. “I never said I couldn’t do it,” I reply, the words coming out between gritted teeth. “Only that it’s not worth the risk of interplanetary war.”
He doesn’t seem convinced. Instead, he leans back in his chair, resting his interlaced fingers behind his head.
“Seems like you’re missing a lucrative business opportunity, is all I’m saying.
” He shrugs. My tail thrashes in agitation.
“Humans are valuable, aren’t they? That’s why the UFO struck a deal in the first place. ”
“What you’re suggesting is called ‘human trafficking,’ and it’s against the law in nearly every country on Earth.
” That’s finally enough to shut him up. Thank the stars.
This conversation has already pushed my limited ability to communicate with clients on Earth.
The longer we stay on this call, the more likely it is that the UFO will catch the signal.
“Now, if that’s all, I must be going.” And with that, I hit the end call button and finally relax back into my chair.
“I think that was the worst human we’ve dealt with so far,” Stells says, her chipper, feminine voice echoing through the cockpit. We’re hovering just outside Earth’s atmosphere. Since human technology is so terrible, it’s hard to connect to their internet anywhere else.
Sure, it’s a risk being so close to the UFO outpost, but it’s a risk I’ve taken many times.
My ship is small enough that I can usually slip by their guards without any issue.
It helps that Stells was originally their technology, which means she has covert access to their systems. It’s what makes me one of the best illegal traders in the galaxy.
Not just anyone can continuously pull one over on the biggest, most powerful player. Or, at least, one of them.
But one of the UFOs’ main ships is parked right on the other side of the planet, so the longer we stay here, the more likely it is we’ll get caught. And I don’t plan on giving the UFO that honor today. “Stells, do you have the coordinates of the transporter?” There's a pause before she replies.
“I believe the transporter we’re looking for is the Triumph, which we successfully bugged several weeks ago.
” Stells says it like I don’t remember slipping the tracking device behind a loose plate on the ship’s exterior.
It was the closest I’d gotten to being caught in a long time.
Stells warned me I was getting too cocky.
I hadn’t listened, and it had nearly cost me.
It was only thanks to her quick processing that I had wiggled out of their reach without them noticing the tracker.
“Perfect!” I clap my hands together in front of my face. Now we play the waiting game.
An amateur would go straight to the transporter and attempt to grab the target, but that’s a potentially life-ending mistake.
The UFO’s security is some of the best in the galaxy; that’s why they’ve retained power for so long and convinced countless planets to join their organization.
They call it an organization, anyway. I call it what it is: a racketeering scheme. The UFO offers protection…for a cost.
Yes, it will be much easier to grab this human planetside. Once the UFO drops off their prizes, they care a lot less about what happens to them. It makes my job a whole lot easier.
“Hm.”
I raise a brow when Stells makes that noise. It means she discovered something interesting, and instead of just telling me what it is, she wants me to ask.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I decide to humor her, especially since we’ll be spending the rest of my life together. “Yes, Stells? Did you find something useful?”
“Maybe not useful, but interesting.” I roll my eyes.
Here we go. This could be anything from beauty tips to a recipe to highly classified information.
With Stells, you never know what you’re going to get, especially after she was just connected to the human internet.
Honestly, I expected a computer to be more predictable, even if she is sentient and highly intelligent.
“It appears the Triumph requested permission to make an unplanned stop on Hurcaria.”
Hurcaria? That gets my attention. “That’s not a planet that’s approved for human habitation,” I tell her.
“Yes. I am familiar with all 162 planets that the UFO and Earth scientists have marked as suitable for humans. Would you like me to continue to state the obvious, as you just have?”
“I hate you,” I groan, sinking down in my chair until my legs are spread wide in front of me. “Navigate to Hurcaria, then. Let’s see what the UFO is up to.”
I watch as a small side vessel breaks through the atmosphere of Hurcaria to reattach itself to the Triumph. What are they doing? As far as I know, the Triumph’s only cargo right now is humans.