Chapter 5
The Carathie System
Midway Trading Outpost
The remote outpost, located on a massive asteroid, floated at the junction of two galaxies.
Without a direct sun, the outpost remained in perpetual darkness, lit only by strings of lights that criss-crossed the narrow streets.
It was a place full of diversity, offering both wonders and dangers.
The crowded streets were bursting with a vibrant mix of dubious chatter and rowdy laughter, mingling with the rich scents of exotic spices, fried delicacies, and potent perfumes.
Fancy establishments and meager stalls alike overflowed with vivid merchandise, ranging from shimmering fabrics and intricate jewelry to alien artifacts and rare spices.
Brothels, with their enticing facades and alluring lights, tempted those in need of pleasure, while gaming dens thrived on the thrill of risk, with tables surrounded by eager gamblers, bookies, grifters and the ever-watchful eyes of security.
From an unlit side alley, Reyne slipped into a seedy tavern, a place known as a haven for those seeking solace, secrecy, or perhaps something more sinister.
The tavern itself was an architectural anomaly, a blend of weathered wood and metal seamlessly intertwined, the ceiling a maze of exposed pipes.
The dim lighting casts shadows that danced along the walls and highlighted a layer of hazy smoke that lingered in the air.
No sooner had he entered, when he was spotted by a long-haired brunette wearing a knee-length scarlet dress that clung to every curve with a subtle shimmer, and strappy shoes.
Her crimson painted lips tugged into a sensual smile as she greeted him with a husky purr.
“Stryder. You are back. It's been too long.”
Stryder was his bounty hunter alias.
Smiling, he reached for her hand and brought her pale knuckles to his lips. “Hello, Margot.”
“Are you trying to seduce me, already?” She flirted with a saucy grin.
“Would I succeed?” He released her hand with slow ease, letting his warm lips caress her fingertips.
Margot’s company was enjoyable and under different circumstances, he would shove her onto the bar top and allow her to wrap her long legs around his waist while he buried his fist in her dark silky hair.
But he was on a mission and time was of the essence.
If Mordrick followed through on his threat, he only had eight days left before the bounty went public. Of course, his uncle could be just toying with him—it wouldn’t be the first time and would doubtfully be the last.
“You always do.” She stroked a loose ebony strand curling near his collarbone. “What brings you to the Midway? Another rogue criminal?”
“Something like that.” He gestured towards a booth tucked into the darkest corner of the tavern, where a shadowed figure sat alone, his presence barely noticeable to the untrained eye.
“Ah, I see. I’ll bring your favorite whiskey.” She ducked behind the bar while Reyne maneuvered through the scattered tables littered with patrons deep in hushed conversation and slid into the worn leather booth across from the heavily cloaked man.
Lester, an information dealer whose reputation for discretion and accuracy was unmatched, pushed the drab hood from his face.
Gaudy gems, adorning his pudgy fingers, gleamed in the dim flickering light.
“Stryder, my friend. What brings you to this remote hell hole?” He chuckled, his dark eyes flashing with greed. “Another bounty?”
“Yes,” he rolled eyes in annoyance. “Only this bounty is much more challenging than the usual riffraff I hunt. I need to locate a rogue Valerian princess.”
Lester let loose a low whistle of astonishment. “A princess, eh? I thought you hated hunting women?”
“I do. I’m not looking forward to this assignment at all.” He admitted as he pictured the Valerian girl in his mind. Women were dangerous. At least to him. “I’m making an exception for Mordrick.”
“It must pay well.”
“It does. The Valerian princess in question, Kendra Kunnetsov, was traded to the Dracarians about five years ago, by the Valerian king himself. What can you tell me?”
Lester leaned back with a thoughtful expression. “Ahh, you need information on Armathea.”
“Armathea?” Reyne lifted a dark brow in question.
Margot set a tall glass of amber liquid before him. He tossed down the contents and gestured for another, but not before his fingers ran up her inner thigh. She swiped his hand away with a playful smile, then returned to the bar.
“You mean you don’t know the story of Armathea and the penal barge Rhygarion Three?
Stryder, my friend, what rock do you dwell under?
Never mind, I forgot your obscure planetary system lies on the fringes of the galaxy.
” Lester shook his head, then pointed to Reyne’s arm. “Why don’t you just fake your death?”
Reyne rubbed his left arm, feeling the hardness of the silver armband hidden below his grey shirt. “If only it was that easy.” Reyne dropped a stack of tokeneks onto the table. “Please, continue.”
Lester put his hand up, halting him with a deep rolling chuckle. “This one’s on the house, my friend. Not long after Armathea departed Valeria, a couple of Dracarians dropped dead.” Lester leaned forward and whispered for the sake of dramatics. “Of unknown causes.”
“Unknown causes?” Reyne’s elbows hit the table as he leaned forward.
“For all their advanced technology, the Dracarians are a very superstitious race. Since the Valerian girl had just been brought aboard, and was rumored to be cursed, they blamed her for the unexpected deaths.”
“That’s absurd. I saw an image of her. There is no way that girl was a killer. But then again, she is a Valerian.”
“Absurd or not, she was convicted of murder. Poison, I believe, was her weapon of choice. They sent word to the Valerian King that whatever deal had been struck, was null and void.”
Reyne groaned. A murder conviction was a lifetime prison sentence, or worse. A slow and painful death in the Metuchin Mines. She needed to be alive if he wanted to collect his full reward. And he needed that reward.
His people needed that reward.
“Rather than returning to Dracar Prime for senltencing, the Dracarians decided it was more expedient—or perhaps safer for them in general—to just deposit her on the nearest penal barge.”
“Rhygarion Three?” The name poked his memory, but he couldn’t place it.
“Indeed. Now, here is where the story gets more interesting.
When Armathea docked with Rhygarion Three, eager to unload their unwanted prisoner, they were greeted—not by the prison guards as expected—but rather a handful of disguised convicts.
Apparently, they had staged a mutiny and had been in control of the barge for days.
Using some type of odorless gas, they knocked out the Dracarians and tossed them into prison cells with the guards, then… "
"Then what?"
Lester grinned. "Then, they stole the Armathea.”
Reyne's jaw dropped as he gaped at Lester in sheer disbelief. “Are you honestly asking me to believe that a bunch of convicts stole a Dracarian vessel?”
“As unbelievable as it sounds, they did. And I would give anything to have seen the look of disbelief on their faces when they woke up locked in prison cells.” Lester chuckled.
“Anyway, it seems they took your Valerian princess with them. At least that was assumed. The crew of Rhygarion Three, and most of the inmates, were rescued a day or two later. The Valerian girl was not among them.”
“How many convicts escaped on Armathea?”
“About twenty. The ringleader, a man known only by his nickname, Reb, was clearly selective. The dangerous criminals were left behind with the prison guards.”
Reyne leaned back and caressed his freshly shaven chin, realizing this assignment could be a lot more difficult than anticipated. With only eight days left, the clock was ticking. “Where is Armathea now?”
Lester tsked, greed again sparkling in the depth of his dark calculating eyes. “Now, for that bit of information, my dear friend, I will most definitely take your tokeneks, and lots of them.”
Reyne created several more stacks and slid them across the table.
Lester’s grin widened in appreciation. “The first thing you need to know is that Armathea is a cloaked exploration vessel.”
“E-Class?”
“Yes. Top of the line.”
Fantastic.
“Several of her crew were renowned weapons designers. They were deployed to Valeria to negotiate a deal with the King. For a weapon I believe.”
“Why would the Dracarians want to barter with an insignificant moon like Valeria? They have nothing of value.”
“No?” Lester arched a brow. “The old Dracarian emperor enjoyed, how shall I say this…he, ahh, enjoyed variety in his bed. He preferred his harem lined with females from all over the galaxy. Can’t say I blame the odd lecher.
After all, Draconian women are notoriously cold passionless creatures that don’t even bother to rear their own children.
All by design, of course. Why bother rearing children when you could be creating the next piece of Dracarian technology…
anyway, your missing Princess was to be his next exotic addition. ”
Reyne cringed. “So, the King sold his young daughter into his harem for a weapon. I knew the Valerians were deplorable, but that goes beyond the pale.”
“Indeed. But the newly crowned Emperor is young and rumored to be a generous lover, so perhaps…”
“Slavery is still slavery.”
“You own a slave.” Lester pointed out.
“Not by choice. While Lena is under my protection, she is safe from the predators lurking in the fortress.”
He quipped a brow, “even predators like you?”
“Yes, even from predators like me.” Reyne may have a reputation with the opposite sex, and he might share Mordrick’s striking appearance, but that was where their similarities ended. Unlike his uncle, he would never use his rank to take advantage of a woman.
Never had and never would.
Lester chuckled. “Armathea has been on the run since the theft. Popping up here and there, only to disappear again. Drove the Dracarians crazy that they were always one step ahead of them. The old emperor eventually halted the search and just built more ships, better ones.”
“So, they just gave up? Just like that?” Reyne thought that was insane.
“Yes, and since then the Armathea has gotten bolder. They have one predictable run that I’m aware of, which involves the mining colony on Outury and the Nirorkon system. This occurs every couple of weeks, give or take.”
“A smuggling operation?”
“Basically, yes. They do have one other oddity. It is rumored that they occasionally offer to tow disabled or stranded vessels, for a hefty price, of course.”
“Of course.” Reyne muttered. “They sound like a bunch of opportunistic pirates.”
“That they are,” Lester agreed with a sharp laugh.
Reyne drummed his fingers on the table in a predictable rhythm, his calculating mind devising a plan. His first thought was to infiltrate the mining colony, which could be the easiest way to access Armathea, but that would take time.
Time, he didn’t possess.
More tokeneks hit the table with several metallic clinks. “I’m going to need a vial of vetravine, a dose of the antidote, and a small non-metallic syringe that can be assembled. And, if possible, Armathea’s schematics and a manifest of the convicts.”
Lester gestured for more coins with his ring-covered fingers. “It’s going to cost a lot more than that if you expect a personal errand boy. Also, vetravine’s antidote isn’t exactly cheap.”
Reyne added another neat stack of coins to the table. Lester scooped up the pile of tokeneks, replaced his hood and set about his tasks.
With business out of the way, Reyne maneuvered through the crowd and headed towards Margot. It was time for something a bit more pleasurable.
Leaning against the bar, propped on her elbows, she watched his approach with an inviting smile. “You know Stryder, one of these days you are going to meet a woman who can resist your charms.”
“Perhaps.” His lips twisted with devilish charm, his fingers slipping under her dress again, clutching her inner thighs. “But not today.”
“Not today.” She moaned her agreement, her head falling back, exposing her neck. In response, Reyne did exactly what he had envisioned earlier.