As the Moth's snap-drive cycled down, I watched the ship's progress on the nav display.

The onboard flight assistant spoke for the first time in hours. "Miss March, we are approaching the planet Drift World. Thirty seconds until we exit interspace."

"Thanks," I said, shifting in the pilot's seat. The Moth could get cramped on a long journey and I was impatient to land and stretch my legs. The ship was not built for traversing the vast distances of The Periphery. The Moth had originally been a single-crewed fighter from the last galactic war. I had won her in an auction and had the small craft retrofitted with a snap-drive to navigate interspace lanes. However, I hadn't factored in long journeys like this one. The ship's antiquated cockpit didn't prioritize comfort.

"Exiting interspace," the assistant announced. The snap-drive shut down and the Moth slowed to standard speed. The white glow of interspace was replaced by the darkness of space, the distant stars, and the planet Drift World directly ahead. "We have arrived."

"Thanks for stating the obvious," I said, accessing the nav display to map my flight path.

"You're welcome."

I shook my head, mapped my route, and switched to manual flight control. I took control of the central column, flexing my gloved fingers. The holographic overlay on the cockpit window showed the location of the planet's major hub, Space Port 66, and the fastest route to reach it.

The planet was entirely desert, a dustbowl in the far reaches of the galaxy. Why were any of these planets settled? Some had few natural resources and were downright inhospitable.

Because they're there, I told myself. Because we have to claim everything.

All in the name of the Galactic Sovereignty.

The name evoked grandeur and opulence. During the Great Expansion, the allied species settled every habitable planet and formed the Galactic Sovereignty. It was an age of exploration and unity, with every sector equal—before the inhabited systems closest to the galaxy's core organized themselves into The Inner Realm, and the rest became The Periphery. And while the Inner Realm of the Galactic Sovereignty prospered, the Peripheries, as they came to be known, were left to determine their own destiny.

A planet like Drift World never stood a chance.

The ochre haze of the planet's exosphere gave way to the thin blue of its thermosphere as I started my descent. The ship's front edge glowed fiery red and I felt the friction caused by the Moth slicing through the planet's atmosphere tremble through its structure. The assistant could have handled this. It was capable of landing the ship in all conditions. But I preferred to take the controls myself. It was part of the reason I chose an older craft, because its controls weren't so automated. I'd grown up hearing stories about these old fighters, about how they'd won the war. When I saw it at auction—albeit in need of a complete overhaul—there'd been no doubt in my mind I'd found my ship. The one that would ferry me to every job. The Moth was old but reliable, sturdy, and built to last.

In this galaxy you need something you can depend on, I told myself, not for the first time.

Space Port 66 was visible below, in the distance. It had grown from a cluster of landing bays on the planet's arid surface to a city in size. Thousands of landing bays and docks. Clubs. Bars. Saloons. Trading posts. Manufacturing and engineering units. Entertainment venues. Space Port 66 may not have had a name beyond its official designation, but it had everything else.

I had an ongoing agreement with the operator of a landing bay at the outskirts of Space Port 66. I slowed on my approach and circled down. The Moth's repulsors kicked in and the ship settled with a soft thud, the engines stirring up a cloud of dust.

I unbuckled myself from my harness, slid back the cockpit hood, and was hit with the dry, harsh air of Drift World. The sun was blinding. I slipped on my shades and climbed out, the canopy closing automatically behind me.

I had my chestnut hair tied back and wore an all-black flight suit designed to regulate temperature, paired with good boots. My style was always utilitarian, only wearing what was necessary.

I stretched, my hands at the base of my back. It felt good to finally get moving.

"There she is," a voice boomed behind me.

I turned around. The rotund man walking toward me owned the landing bay and the bays beside it. He wore beige overalls and had grown his hair and beard out since my last visit to Drift World.

"Donnel. How long has it been?"

He stood before me, thumbs hooked into his utility belt. "A good year, at least. I heard you got caught up in some trouble in the Selnar system."

"You heard right."

"Care to spill the beans? They tell me it was quite a thing."

I smirked. "They know a lot."

"They do." His brows rose expectantly. "So . . ."

I rolled my eyes. "When this job's over, I'll tell you about it."

"Okay." Donnel watched as I moved to a section of the hull plating at the rear of the fighter. I removed the glove on my right hand and pressed my palm to the hull. The section slid back, revealing a hidden compartment. I retrieved my blaster, holster, and gun belt.

"I have a job," I spoke as I put on the belt and holster. "I've tracked a man across two systems. His last movements indicate he was traveling here on a commercial transport that landed three days ago."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Donnel nodded. "There's a big bounty on his head, I take it."

"No, it's a private job. But the reward is enough."

Donnel ran a calloused hand across the fighter's nose. "You brought the Moth this time, so I assume you're not bringing him in alive."

"Correct," I said, checking my blaster before holstering it. One seat in the cockpit. One passenger. No room for prisoners.

"What's he done? I mean, what's he guilty of?" Donnel asked.

I considered telling him about the man's crimes. His vile acts against the vulnerable struck a chord with me due to my past. It was part of the reason I'd agreed to it in the first place. But now wasn't the time. I wanted to complete the job first. End the life of the man who had devastated innocent lives. It wasn't the first time I'd felt such a connection to a job—and it wouldn't be the last. "Let's just say he's one of the bad ones and leave it at that."

I reached into the hidden compartment and retrieved a leather pouch. Then I moved away and watched with satisfaction as the hull plating resealed itself.

Donnel watched me hook the pouch onto my belt. "The ol' bag of tricks," he said with a knowing smile.

"You know it."

We walked across the landing bay toward Donnel's office. "This feels like one of those jobs where you've got some skin in the game, Aurora."

"It's not like that," I lied. Typical of him to keep prying.

The big man chuckled. "Keep telling yourself that. I've seen that look in your eye before. Your hesitance to tell me the man's crimes says a lot. I bet you barely break even with the reward. But that don't bother you since you took this one because it touched a nerve. I can tell."

"Maybe it did," I said, folding my arms. "So what?"

"Just be careful. It's a dangerous planet of dangerous people. I don't have to tell you that. Hope your head's clear."

"It's clear."

"Glad to hear it," he said, gesturing for me to enter the office ahead of him. "I get too much repeat business from you. It'd be inconvenient for me if you got vaporized."

"Nice to know you care." I removed my shades and looked around. The circular module looked as dirty and cluttered as the last time I'd visited Donnel. I watched him settle into a chair. He invited me to sit, but I shook my head. "I'm fine standing."

"What can I help you with?"

"You know this place like the back of your hand. Where would you go if you were on the run?"

"Me?" Donnel considered my question, stroking his beard. "I'd hit the first bar I came to."

"A bar? Wouldn't going into a crowded establishment be the opposite of what you'd want?"

Donnel smiled. "Not on Space Port sixty-six, Aurora. The bar's the first place you want to go. It's where you go to get help."

"I see. As long as you've got the credits, eh?"

"Exactly."

"Which bar?"

"That depends. I mean, you said he traveled on a commercial transport?"

I nodded.

"Then given the location of the docks for those big rigs, he'd hit Kwan's," Donnel said, pointing at a spot on the Space Port map pinned to the wall. "The docking arms for the big commercial transports are less than ten minutes from there."

"How far from here, do you think?"

"Take a speeder or a cab."

"Noted. So, what's at Kwan's?"

"At a guess, the three things a man on the run needs—someone to make a crooked ID, a starship captain to smuggle him to where he wants to go, and a seller for a blaster."

"A respectable establishment, then," I remarked.

"You mean, den of villainy."

I tipped my chin. "Dangerous place, is it?"

"You can handle it," Donnel said dismissively. He got off the chair and collected two glasses. He filled them with a dark brown liquid from a dusty, opaque decanter. "Here. Try this."

I accepted a glass from him and held it up. "What is it?"

"Torian gin."

"I've never heard of it."

"I like it. I fixed a lady's ship a month ago. She was short so she paid the rest of the bill with a case of torian gin from her cargo hold. I haven't regretted it."

I took a sip. It was sharp and strong, making every nerve tingle. "Wow," I gasped. "That hits different."

"I know, right?" Donnel said, knocking his back in one go.

"Hey, that reminds me, who's in charge around here these days?"

"It ain't Jespa," Donnel said, sitting back down. "Two months after you were here, they found him in pieces, and I'm not referring to his emotional state either."

I winced at the mental image Donnel's words conjured. I had read about Jespa's downfall on the galactic net. Crime lords were interchangeable, the underworld always in flux. I could imagine how Jespa had been killed, dismembered and disposed of. It gave new meaning to 'taking out the trash'.

"Who's top dog now?"

"A lady named Lerii. Seems fair. She's kept things civil in the port since taking over. Her tax ain't as steep as Jespa's, which helps. It's won a lot of folks over."

"Probably doesn't want to be the next ex-crime lord chopped into chum," I remarked. "Easier to keep you all on side."

"'Chopped into chum'," Donnel laughed. "I like that, that's a good one."

"Where can I find Lerii?"

"Observation tower. She took it over, her and her muscle. That way they can keep an eye over everything. You know what they say about the eye in the sky . . ."

"It sees all."

"Damn right."

I walked to the window on the other side of Donnel's window and peeked through the dusty blinds. In the distance, I saw the tall white observation tower looming over Space Port 66. It was a different approach to Jespa's. He'd hidden himself away and ruled from the shadows, relying on enforcement and brutality to exert his authority over the denizens of Space Port 66.

Lerii had a different idea of being in charge. She wanted to be visible to all.

It made sense.

"Smart move," I said, stepping away from the blinds.

"I agree."

"Think she'll meet me?"

"When?"

"Today."

Donnel shrugged. "Might do. Why? What do you want to ask?"

"I want to know if she objects to me killing a man on her turf. You don't just walk into somebody's house and spill blood on the floor."

Donnel held up a finger. "If you can help it," he said, rising from the chair with a grunt. "What're you concerned about, anyway? You've got your license."

"I know, but it's just good manners to get the lay of the land beforehand."

"Always thinking about the future, huh?"

"It's usually on my mind," I said, folding my arms.

Donnel studied me. "Is this about whatever went down in the Selnar system?"

"Ask your probing questions, you won't get anything out of me and you know it."

"Man's gotta try, right?"

I moved on. "The guy I'm chasing is called Jed Teague. I'll let you get a look at him. Maybe you've seen him."

I retrieved a quarry token from my pocket and held it in my hand. A quarry token was a small holographic device that contained all the info a bounty hunter or mercenary would need about an intended target. It was also used for collecting the bounty. I waved my other hand over it and the token came to life, emitting a green holographic display of the man I'd tracked to Drift World.

Donnel ran his fingers through his hair. "Doesn't look like anyone I've seen passing through here. Sorry."

"Well, it was worth a try," I said, shutting down the display and slipping the quarry token back into my pocket.

"I'll keep an eye out."

"Appreciate it."

Donnel saw me out. The street was bustling with crowds of people and speeder bikes coming and going, zipping past. Across the street there was a red signal tower with a rotating dish at the top, and a storefront selling ammunition. Overhead, a cargo transport lifted heavily into the sky. I felt the mighty boom of its sublight engines as it climbed.

"Anything you need done to the Moth while you're gone?"

"Nothing in particular. Just check her out, will you? Give her a once over?"

"Of course."

I put my shades on and walked away. I turned back. "Oh, Donnel? Don't tell anyone I'm here."

"No way. What do you take me for?" he asked with a wink.

"I should be back in a few days."

"Same arrangement as always?"

"You bet."

Donnel nodded. "Good hunting."