Chapter 10
Aano
Leah’s skilled hands worked the controls as her lander shuttle touched down with a gentleness that belied the rough terrain beneath us.
The landing gear compressed with a hydraulic hiss, and I felt her hand squeeze mine in excitement.
Outside the viewport, Numae sprawled like a lover who’d given up trying to look presentable—all raw edges and faded glory, lit by the setting sun that painted everything in shades of amber and shadow.
I’d been here before. Leah hadn’t. The difference showed in every line of her body as she pressed against me, practically vibrating with anticipation.
“Wow, so we just park in... a big square of pavement?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Don’t they have security? It’s like the Wild West out here.”
“We filed the paperwork at the space station, and we were cleared to land.” I fought back a smile at her enthusiasm as I reached over and pressed the button that opened the door.
With a hiss, it slid open, and a short gangplank slid out, ramping down to the ground.
“Welcome to Numae, princess. Probably not what you’re used to. ”
“It’s perfect,” she breathed, and the genuine wonder in her voice caught me off guard. She pointed to a cluster of fabric tents and bustling Araced to our left. “Look at that market. The colors and the people.”
Yahn moved past us, his long tail swishing in what I recognized as agitation, though his face remained carefully neutral. “We should keep moving. Less time on the landing pad means fewer questions.”
I caught his eye, noting the tightness around his mouth, the way his gaze never quite settled.
Something was off. Something beyond our current mission parameters.
I walked down the ramp first, years of training making me scan the perimeter automatically.
The landing strip was weathered concrete, cracked and patched so many times it resembled an abstract puzzle.
Heat rose from it in visible waves, carrying the smell of fuel, spice, and the unmistakable metallic tang that always lingered in Numae’s atmosphere.
I reached up to help Leah down, and she practically fell into my arms, laughing as I caught her.
Her body was warm against mine, soft where I was hard, and for a moment, I forgot about the mission, about the data chip burning a hole in the hidden in my jacket, about the Ducal Syndicate likely still on our trail.
“Careful,” I said, steadying her. “Gravity’s a bit stronger here than you’re used to.”
She looked up at me, those bright blue eyes wide and trusting. “You’ll catch me if I fall, won’t you?”
The question hit somewhere deeper than it should have.
I’d been catching people all my life—as a security professional, as a brother, as a man who couldn’t seem to walk away from those who needed protection.
But Leah wasn’t asking for protection. She was asking for partnership in adventure, and I wasn’t sure I remembered how to give that.
“Every time,” I promised, the words slipping out before I could analyze them.
Yahn cleared his throat behind us. I set Leah on her feet but kept my hand at the small of her back. His eyes tracked the gesture, and something flickered in their reddish-brown depths—calculation, maybe. Or worry.
“This way,” he said. “Watch your step. The port authority doesn’t seem to prioritize maintenance in this section.”
“Numae’s not that bad,” I said, guiding her around a suspicious puddle of green fluid. “It’s just... authentic.”
“That’s what I want!” She clapped her hands together, hair bouncing around her heart-shaped face. “Real experiences. Real people. Not another sanitized resort where they pretend the universe is perfect.”
Yahn’s tail twitched. “Perfect is overrated anyway.”
We walked toward the terminal, a low building that had once been white but was now streaked with the accumulated grime of decades.
Overhead, neon signs flickered in at least seven different languages, advertising everything from cheap lodging to body modifications that would be illegal in IUC central planets.
“Oh my god, look at that!” Leah pointed to a particularly lurid sign showing an Araced dancer with three tails. “Is that even anatomically possible?”
Yahn actually cracked a small smile. “Not without surgery.”
She turned to him with wide eyes. “Seriously? You could have—“
“Different subject,” I cut in, feeling heat rise to my face. The last thing I needed was to picture Yahn with multiple anything. The single tail was distracting enough when he forgot himself and let it express his emotions.
Leah laughed, the sound bright and incongruous against the gritty backdrop of Numae. “You’re blushing, Aano. That’s adorable. Can we go to the tents?”
Yahn nodded. “It’s market day. And the first one of the month is always a fair.”
“A fair? Like with games and food and stuff?” Leah’s excitement rose another notch, if that was possible. “We have to go!”
I eyed him, and he shrugged. “We might as well have a little fun, right?” That didn’t seem like Yahn at all. Why wasn’t he eager to get to the safe house? Did he have the same suspicions about the mole that I did?
Leah, oblivious to the undercurrents, looped her arms through both of ours. “Lead on, my handsome guides! Show me the wonders of Numae!”
The main street opened into a market square that assaulted all senses at once.
Vendors shouted their wares in a dozen languages, the air thick with the scent of frying food, incense, and the distinctive musk of too many species pressed too close together.
Fabric awnings in faded blues and reds stretched overhead, filtering the harsh sunlight into soft patterns across the dusty ground.
Leah breathed it all in like it was fine perfume. “This is amazing! What’s that they’re cooking?” She pulled us toward a stall where something tentacled sizzled on a hot plate.
“Zangrellian sea-crawler,” Yahn answered. “It’s... an acquired taste.”
“I want to try everything,” she declared, already digging in her pocket for her credit chip.
I exchanged a look with Yahn over her head. “Maybe start with something less likely to give you digestive distress?”
But she’d already handed over credits and was accepting a skewer of purple-tinted meat that wriggled slightly despite being fully cooked. She took a bite without hesitation, and the expression that crossed her face was worth every second of anxiety.
“Oh,” she said, eyes watering. “That’s... wow. That’s really something.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. Not the controlled chuckle I usually allowed myself, but a full, genuine laugh that bubbled up from somewhere I thought had long since dried up. “Your face, princess.”
She swatted my arm, but grinned through her grimace. “Shut up and help me find something to wash this down before my tongue disintegrates.”
Yahn’s shoulders relaxed fractionally. “There’s a drink stall over there. The blue liquid is a juice from a local berry.”
As Leah darted toward it, I caught Yahn’s arm. “What’s going on?” I kept my voice low, my expression friendly for anyone watching.
His eyes met mine, guarded. “Nothing. Just trying to keep her entertained.”
“Bullshit.” I let my fingers press into the muscle of his forearm, just enough to make a point. “You’ve been on edge since we left the ship. Checking corners, scanning faces.”
“So have you,” he countered.
“It’s my job to be paranoid.”
Before I could get more, Leah was back, clutching a container of luminescent blue liquid.
“This tastes like blueberries and electricity!” she announced, offering it to me. “Try it!”
I took a sip, never breaking eye contact with Yahn. The drink was sweet and sharp, with an underlying bitterness that lingered after the initial flavor faded. Rather like our current situation.
“Delicious,” I lied, passing it back to her.
We continued through the market, Leah stopping at nearly every stall to examine exotic fabrics, alien artifacts, and questionable souvenirs.
She purchased a length of shimmering cloth that changed colors when touched, a tiny mechanical creature that walked in circles when wound up, and a bracelet made from what the vendor claimed were tears of a Lanterian moon-beast.
“Where are you planning to put all this stuff?” I asked as she added a carved figurine to her growing collection.
She blinked innocently. “In the ship, of course. Or perhaps my apartment. What’s the point of traveling if you don’t bring back treasures?”
“Numae used to be known for its music scene,” Yahn continued, pointing down an alley where faded posters advertised bands I’d never heard of.
“Underground clubs where species from across the galaxy would come to perform together. Breaking down barriers through art. Something you may not have experienced in your sheltered life.” His voice took on a wistful quality I hadn’t heard before.
She pouted, her lower lip jutting out in a way that made me want to bite it. “I’m not as sheltered as you think.”
“Aren’t you?” I traced a finger along her jaw, feeling her pulse jump under my touch. “The daughter of entertainment moguls, raised in luxury, slumming it with a couple of rough working men?”
Her pupils dilated, blue eyes darkening as she leaned into my touch. “Maybe I like rough.”
We passed through another alley that opened up on another public square, now filled with makeshift stalls and attractions for the fair.
Paper lanterns strung overhead cast soft pools of light as the sky darkened to deep indigo.
The crowd was diverse—humans and Aikkoans mingling with Araced, Zangrel, and half a dozen other species, all seeking a brief escape from the hardships of outer rim life.
Leah’s delight at each new discovery was a strange balm to my cynical soul. She gasped at performers who manipulated light between their fingers, cheered for dancing automatons that whirled in perfect synchronicity.
Yahn stepped in close. “I’m going to walk past the safe house, see if it looks compromised. You keep her entertained.”