Saketa’s sense of their new location didn’t change as they made planetfall, save in that proximity strengthened it. There was still that feeling of looming, potential threat. Potential, but not certain. So there was a possibility of avoiding it entirely.

“I’m just going to spell this out one last time,” Lesi said to the three girls. “This isn’t the sort of place where you want to step out. You’d probably just end up in the same situation. But after this point, there are no further stops. Not until we are dealing with at least one large freighter. Possibly a Scorchspace clan as well. It’s your call. We won’t stop you from staying, but we also won’t turn around once things get hairy.”

She sighed, with a slightly apologetic air.

“I normally wouldn’t have anything to do with bringing kids into either of these situations, but this is where we’re at.”

“We aren’t kids,” Emma replied defensively.

“Well, I’m afraid only kids say that,” Lesi said, with just enough of a taunt to get an irritated reaction out of the girl. It was at least preferable to nervousness. Perhaps that was the whole point.

Shmia, usually the group’s spokeswoman, merely nodded, looking thoughtful, not even looking at Lesi.

“As I said: Your call,” the woman added. “You have until we’re done recharging.”

Saketa put her poncho on again. She disliked it. It was in the neighbourhood of dishonesty, which she was oath-bound to deny herself, but was also a slight barrier between her and the universe. When she might have need of her power, and certainly needed her awareness.

But the sight of a Warden might kick off the trouble they were very much hoping to avoid. And that was that.

“Alright, let’s see how this goes,” Zamm said, as he finished adjusting his twin gun holsters. “Saketa?”

They exited the main airlock together.

The air quality outside wasn’t outright wretched, but it certainly wasn’t fresh and lovely. It smelled dead, a testament to the lack of green anywhere near the city, and the claustrophobic press of tall brick and steel towers. It was nearing sunset, but the distant little lightbulb of a star was already barely visible through a smoky haze.

Overall, visually, the place was a perfect match for the negative energies Saketa picked up. They no doubt fed into each other, in a destructive loop that kept Undu-Plas a harsh and cruel place.

The outside-air dock wasn’t big, but from what she could tell it was rather well situated; within walking distance of various more important parts of the city. Outside, a man was waiting for them, with two more people behind him, all wearing matching green outfits.

“Hello,” Zamm said as they approached the trio. “It’ll be a partial charge, please.”

The other man smiled, but there was a decidedly forced quality to it.

“Yes,” he said through it. “We will absolutely see to that. But we are having a small technical issue. We are working on resolving it, and-”

Zamm put his hand on the man’s shoulder, with just a bit of excessive force.

“Look, listen, we really don’t have time for games,” the ranger said. “We know something is up, and you know that we know. So let’s skip the stage play, shall we?”

He patted the shoulder, still a bit harder than was polite.

None of the trio were openly carrying weapons, and still looked simply nervous, so Saketa kept her focus wider out, on the network of streets and buildings that could be hiding anything.

“So, what is going on, man?” Zamm went on. “What is all this?”

“We got a call,” the dock worker, or manager, or whatever he was, said, as he took Zamm’s hand away. “About a technical issue. I am not responsible for it, and if I try to mess around with the chargers… well, it might backfire on me. So I am afraid we will all simply have to wait and see. If you understand me.”

“Hm.”

Zamm put his hand back on the man.

“And who exactly is yanking your chain?”

The other man hesitated, and his two associates or underlings or whatever they were didn’t offer anything, as Zamm refused to stick to the script for this.

“It is… a whole network,” the man eventually said, with awkward emphasis. “I can’t really say. But you are free to use our facilities, and-”

He started to leave, but Zamm tightened his grip. The two of them stood in silence for a few breaths, staring at each other. And still Saketa felt that these three weren’t the danger here.

“I really. Cannot. Say,” the man bit out, and strode off with enough force to break loose.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The other two went with him, back to the dock’s modest main building. Saketa and Zamm shared a look, then walked back to the airlock.

“Well?” Lesi said.

She had strapped on a gun of her own, as well as some armour.

“Someone is playing games with us, and I’m not in the mood for it,” her brother said.

“But the question is whether it has to do with the freighter,” Saketa said, “the fact that we came in on a Ranger ship, or me.”

She put a hand on her sword.

“I agree, Zamm. We have no time to waste on nonsense. I am going to go for a stroll, and see if that provokes anything.”

They had discussed the possibility, so there was nothing to say or waste time on. Save one thing.

“Meanwhile, Lesi can fix my drop-shield,” Zamm said through half a grin.

“I will drop your drop-shield on your head while you’re sleeping,” the woman responded.

“That IS the only time you would ever get the drop on me.”

She grumbled as she went back to the cockpit, to keep an eye out via the ship’s exterior cameras. Zamm positioned himself just inside the exterior airlock. And Saketa started walking.

The main streets leading away from the dock were evenly divided between vehicle traffic and foot traffic, and since there was next to none of either, she chose to walk on top of the divide itself. The infrequent lampposts also rose out from it, and in the fading light it helped her stay visible.

She kept the dock’s direction and distance fixed in her mind, while also remaining alert for any sudden trouble. She wanted away from the place without actually going too far, and so she took turns, building artificial distance by putting large buildings between it and herself.

And she was being followed. They weren’t even being particularly subtle about it. A couple of ground-cars drifted slowly some distance behind her, matching her walking pace. And there were pedestrians, who hugged the walls, as well away from the light as they could. They, too, kept a certain distance, but at an intersection she felt they were coming from two directions.

That niggling sense of danger was growing more intense, even if slowly and mildly, and the latest itch was coming from her left. So she turned right.

Still there was almost no one about. She was moving through a jungle of big block houses, who could just as easily be apartment buildings, offices, or factories. Windows were few, especially on ground level, and apparently one-way. There was little out in the open to keep people there, but even so she would have expected people to at least be going from place to place. This felt like an order had been given, to clear the streets in anticipation of something. Perhaps she was overanalysing, but that was how it felt.

Still the tension built, and now it felt like there was trouble up ahead as well. A sizeable roundabout waited ahead, in the semi-lit gloom and she saw figures there, outside of small vehicles. Waiting for her. And with the city, or at least the neighbourhood, so oddly quiet, and no wind to speak of, she thought she heard sounds from a nearby rooftop.

Saketa stopped, a shouting distance away from the roundabout. Her slow pursuers did not keep up what little pretence there had been, and just kept coming for her. And those in front waited.

And with all that, none of these people were bothering with the ship.

“Saketa,” Zamm said via her earpiece. “We have a Scenario Two.”

“I see.”

She drew the sword, and wasn’t the least bit subtle about it. The red blade caught the light as she held it up above her head, for all of the skulkers to see. It got a reaction. And then, with the dock in her head, she Shifted back.

The dock manager, or whoever he was, let out a yell as she materialised near the Ranger ship. Zamm stood a short distance away with both of his huge pistols drawn. In his sights was a six-man group. One of them was clearly concussed, and had a bleeding wound on his head. Saketa presumed Zamm had put one of his gun butts to work.

She threw the poncho wide, since there was no point to any kind of subtlety anymore. The group did not have the look of innocent men being threatened; they were far too cool-headed for that, and as she stepped closer she saw hints of pistols and other subtle weapons hidden in their overall dark clothing.

“Well, blast or blade,” Zamm said. “Those are your options now if you try anything, boys.”

“That ship will never fly again if you kill one of us,” one of the men replied calmly. He had a chin beard and a set of soulless eyes.

“I caught these fellows skulking our way,” Zamm said to Saketa, without taking his eyes off them.

“Indeed,” she replied, and walked a circle around the group, just outside of immediate slashing range. “And why don’t you men tell us what you want, before your comrades circle around to us, and this all gets very messy?”

It was subtle; just a couple of quick looks by the other men, but it confirmed the chin-beard as some manner of leader to the group. He seemed to have no interest in Zamm, focusing instead entirely on Saketa.

“Well?” she said, as she came to a stop next to the Akkian Ranger, sword still in hand. “Talk. Time is wasting.”

He pointed a finger at her.

“We know a little about Wardens around here. Many have lost kin or friends, due to your type. You might say we are a bit of a hub, an archive, of stories. Including the ones where the great, mysterious warrior from the far reaches doesn’t survive. You are not invincible.”

“Of course not,” she told him. “But compared to you, I might as well be.”

He didn’t smile at her, or frown, or anything at all. He just kept talking.

“Why don’t you take this up with the boss? Who knows, maybe you two can come to an understanding.”

“We simply do not have the time for melodrama,” Saketa told him.

“You should hurry, then,” he replied.

He then touched his ear, and Saketa realised he was wearing a piece. And unless he was pretending, he was receiving instructions.

“You know what? She wants to talk to you, Warden,” the man told her. “Face to face, I mean.”

“Where?”

“There.”

He pointed to one of the more impressive buildings that were visible in the concrete jungle. It was one of the few that had some aesthetics to its design, as well as exterior lighting that let it stand out.

“Just approach the front, and you’ll be guided the rest of the way. Warden.”

She slowly tipped the sword his way, until the edge was resting against his shoulder.

“All those others will stay away from our ship. If not, I will Shift back here in a moment. And I will come to fight. Is that understood?”

He still didn’t give her much of a reaction.

“Understood, Warden. Now hurry.”

She gave Zamm a look. He didn’t have any protests, or better suggestions. He just holstered one of his weapons and lowered the other one.

“I’ll keep an eye on our boys here,” he said. “Go do it.”