Gaylen leaned back in his booth and just enjoyed doing nothing for a bit. He’d really found himself a nice little cantina. Panelling with warm colours covered up the metallic walls, and decorations that certainly resembled actual wood almost made one forget about being in space.

And there were only three other people inside, distributed about the booths. Gaylen had called the crew and asked if anyone was up for a shared drink, but was rather pleased with the round of no’s.

Still, regardless of comforts one could never quite escape one’s own mind.

What are you going to do, you silly man?

He was no closer to a resolution when the swing-doors opened and in walked two men he’d seen from the balcony earlier. They spotted him in turn and walked on over. Gaylen’s good mood vanished.

One had a beard, despite not really pulling it off, and wore a reddish jumpsuit. The other kept his face and head both closely buzzed and wore a light jacket. Both wore big shoulder flaps that hung down almost to their elbows, displaying stylised red drops against a white background.

“Hello,” the bearded one said as they came over to the booth. “Do you speak Gyvo?”

“I do,” Gaylen said stiffly.

“We saw how you did that Kapadian,” the other one said and grinned. “We liked it.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“The galaxy needs more of that these days,” the bearded one went on. “The tainted peoples are spreading like a plague, leaving their planets, mixing in among the rest of us. They need to be put in their place. Reminded that this galaxy belongs to humanity.”

“I see.”

Gaylen had a sip of his drink, then wiped his lower lip and moved the mug out of the way.

“Tell you what... I will go track that Kapadian down, apologise to him, and give him all my worldly possessions and the most loving sex of his life before I have anything to do with you guys.”

The two men stood in silence for a couple of breaths.

“Who do you think you are?” the one in the jacket said belligerently.

“Not you,” Gaylen replied.

“You’re going to talk to us this way?!” the man went on, getting more forceful.

“Yeah.”

Gaylen heard the door open and close as someone left the cantina in something of a hurry. He stared firmly at both men.

“Are you a Feddie?” the bearded one asked with contempt.

Gaylen sneer-smiled.

“Walk away, boys. You’re ruining my good mood.”

“How about we teach you some manners instead?” the other one said.

They made a big show out of being tense and battle-ready. Gaylen stood up slowly, his body and mind ready to spring into violence.

“Two against one?” he said calmly. “Not your kind of odds. Not when people actually hit back. If you had brains and guts at all you wouldn’t be wearing that...”

He patted the bearded one’s shoulder flaps.

“... to feel like big boys.”

He could see them boiling on the inside; insecurity challenged. But they didn’t act. Not when he stared at them with a lot of awful, brutal memories at the front of his mind. He knew plenty about hurting people.

“I think...” the buzzed one started, rallying himself. “That you need a-”

Gaylen slapped him.

This was the deciding moment, and for a second it did look like they might actually strike back. But he could see their courage flare down as quickly as it had flared up. And then came the false smile to cover for it.

“Not worth it,” the buzzed one said, turning to face the other one for a moment, silently telling him to play along. “You’re doomed anyway.”

“You’re both a lot more breakable than any Kapadian,” Gaylen said. “Beat it.”

“You’re doomed,” the man went on, even as they took the first steps towards the door. “The mud-people and traitors alike.”

They reached the door.

“New times are coming for the galaxy,” the man said venomously. “A great wind of purity. And if you don’t stand by your people, you will be blown away by it.”

He left and closed the door.

Gaylen sat back down and took his mug in hand again. With the idiots out of sight the possibility that he’d overreacted crept up on him. Hard-learned survival instinct criticised him for unnecessary trouble, suggested potential future trouble, and reminded him that the whole display hadn’t accomplished a damn thing other than to make him feel good for a moment.

Someone in a nearby booth started clapping slowly. Gaylen turned his head as a woman got out of it. She wore her dark hair short, just barely poking out from beneath the hood on a ginger coat. She had the sleeves rolled up, revealing pirate tattoos on each forearm.

“Sorry,” she said with a smile and stopped clapping. “I just always love seeing people get in over their heads. It tickles me.”

It was Evesa Karn, the pirate. Gaylen couldn’t immediately spot a weapon, but there was a reason he himself wore a coat.

He got up and she started walking towards him.

“Oh, don’t get up on my account, really. I-”

Gaylen sprang out the blade of his knife. He kept it close to his body, so the other patrons and the staff hopefully wouldn’t spot it. But the pirate certainly did.

The woman stopped, put up an exaggerated expression of... something or other... then put her hands on her hips.

“And what are you going to do?” she asked with a hint of challenge.

“That’s up to you,” he said, giving her the same kind of look he’d given the Purists. It didn’t have the same effect, though. Above that smile were hard eyes. They were slightly different shades of brown, hinting at a prosthetic.

“Now, now,” Karn said and carefully held the coat open. “Security actually is pretty decent around here.”

Holding his gaze she let the coat lapels fall in place and approached his table with slow, measured steps. Gaylen kept at the ready, alert for a sudden shift in her footing or shoulders. She took a bit of a circle around him, staying out of immediate stabbing range, then came to a stop on the other side of the booth.

“Let’s talk,” she said and slid into the seat.

“I don’t do this,” Gaylen told her.

“Do what?”

“This. Enemies putting on a stage play of being friends. You tried to kill me and my crew. I’m not going to be civil.”

He remained standing and made it clear through his demeanour that he would remain so.

“Ahhh, you’re fun,” the woman sighed.

She clapped her hands on the table.

“Grow up,” he retorted.

Karn chuckled and the mask slipped a bit, showing menace.

“Oh, the adult things I do are never any fun for anyone.”

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

She stood, but made no move to leave.

“How did you find me?” he asked. “You sure made it here fast on a damaged ship.”

“Now you want civility?”

“You seem like the bragging type.”

She laughed.

“Ohhh, you got me. I had another ship incoming. They gave me a lift while the other is being repaired. And... well, this is the most notable stop for some distance, so I made a gamble. And I have your voice on record. I just scanned for transmissions on the station, waiting for one that fit your pattern. The miracles of technology!”

The mask was back up and he was again talking to a peppy young girl rather than a killer.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Oh, you know what I want. I want the record keeper.”

“Already sold it.”

“Mmmm.”

Karn watched for a few seconds, with another exaggerated expression on her face.

“I don’t think you did,” she then said. “Not here. Do you even know what you have on your hands?”

“Which answer will make you suspect I’m lying?”

She laughed.

“Good point!”

The laughter faded away and the mask slipped again.

“But seriously now; just let me have it.”

“Are you offering to cut me in?”

She grinned, but it was a smaller, sharper version than before.

“No. I’m offering to let you walk away, spacer boy.”

Gaylen just stared at her impassively for a few seconds. The knife was still in his hand and his body was still ready. It really would be a bad idea for either of them to kill the other, but one never knew. Maybe she had an understanding with the local authorities.

“I’m not inclined to believe you,” he then said. “Black ops vessel? I’d wager you’ll earn a little extra for cleaning up witnesses.”

He heard the door open and a single set of footsteps stride in. The woman’s face subtly shifted, getting harder still. Gaylen mapped out his escape after plunging the knife home.

“I have reach,” she said, her voice dead serious and her shoulders hunching. “And I have ships. And I get what I want.”

She was about as tense as he was, and he knew perfectly well that she was dangerous.

“So you’d better-”

A figure came down between two lengths of booths, joining them. He wore a crimson capelet with a hood, a long curved blade sheathed at one hip and a shorter one at the other. Tightly fitted around a powerful body was a slightly glossy black jumpsuit with a few hints of crimson, most notably a four-pointed star on the chest.

The man looked them both over, calmly taking the situation in. Gaylen closed his knife and slid it back into a pocket. The pirate was silent and still for a breath or two, then switched to that smiling persona.

“Ah,” she said. “A Warden, gracing this little place with his presence!”

“Hm,” was the man’s plain response, and he walked all the way over.

“Never seen one of you folks up close,” the pirate went on, grinning. “My, those suits don’t leave anything to the imagination, do they?”

“Qantil League, correct?” the Warden said, putting a finger on her tattoos. “I did not know you were active in this area.”

“Just passing through,” she said innocently and rested her chin on her knuckles.

“Mismatched eyes,” he went on. “You are Evesa Karn, aren’t you?”

She almost managed to feign indifference, but not quite.

“My my, aren’t you informed? Are you the real thing, by the way? Because anyone can put on a sexy outfit.”

The man exposed a little bit of his larger blade. It had that very distinctive red colour.

“I will be keeping your presence in mind,” the Warden said as he let the sword slide back in.

“Good for you. I’d say-”

“Leave,” he told her.

She sat still for a moment, gazing back at the man. Then, with a deliberately casual air, she did get up.

“Think about what I said, spacer boy.”

She walked out the door.

“Hello, Pietr,” Gaylen said.

“Hello.”

Gaylen sighed.

“Is this all really a coincidence?”

“No, not at such,” Pietr said. “I thought I’d look into the local Purists. Then I sensed trouble in here.”

“Sensed...” Gaylen repeated with some dismissal.

“Is it a coincidence that you were holding a knife and talking to a pirate?” the man asked him in turn.

“Actually... yes,” Gaylen told him. “There was a little incident on the way here.”

The Warden nodded very slightly. Gaylen had no idea what meaning to find in it.

“Do you mind if I join you?” the man asked and indicated the booth. “Since I’m here?”

Gaylen hesitated, but his chill mood was now thoroughly spoiled anyway.

“Sure.”

“Just give me a moment.”

The strange figure walked towards the service area and Gaylen took his seat again. Pietr returned with a mug of something mild and sat where the pirate had been.

“I heard something about one of you lot being on-station,” Gaylen said. “Didn’t know it was true. Or you.”

“A human trafficking ring had set up an operation in the lower levels,” the Warden told him. “I helped break it up.”

“Oh. Good.” Gaylen took a sip. “Did you kill any of those slime?”

“It didn’t come to that,” Pietr said. “The local guards have them.”

“A shame.”

“It is dangerous to go down the path of that kind of judgement.”

“Yeah, yeah, just running my mouth,” Gaylen said. “Are you here to tend to my spirit?”

“Your spirit is your own responsibility, Gaylen.”

“Fair enough. And... thanks for that bit of help on Chukata Mog.”

Pietr nodded.

“It seems I might have stuck around a bit longer, though,” he said. “I heard things got quite colourful on the station exterior.

“Colourful,” Gaylen repeated and chuckled slightly. “Yes, you could say that. Brown, blue and red.”

“I take it I am missing context for a joke?”

“You are. But it all worked out in the end. I am out of the game now.”

“That is good to hear.”

“Just running a freighter now,” Gaylen said.

“I hope you manage to stick to it. I have always had the impression, Gaylen, that you are more a decent man than not.”

Gaylen flinched a bit on the inside.

“Please don’t try to recruit me into heroics.”

Pietr gazed soulfully into his drink for a few moments before looking up.

“It doesn’t take heroics,” he then said. “All it really takes is for people to lead decent, simple lives. Imagine if everyone did, including those with power, those who move economies and public opinion.”

“That’s a pretty little fantasy, I’m afraid,” Gaylen said, and thought of the company he’d just had to deal with.

“Perhaps,” Pietr said. “But that doesn’t devalue simply not being a part of the problem.”

“Maybe not,” Gaylen replied. “But moving on: I feel I should tell you something.”

“What?”

“Shortly before that whole business on Chukata I came across an old derelict. A very old one. It was huge, pieced together from different types of ships. And the interior had seen battle. There were blade slashes in solid metal.”

Gaylen’s eyes wandered to Pietr’s strange sword.

“Circa at the centre of it was a weird, large space. Mostly empty, with a high, arched ceiling. A painting covered much of one wall, showing the Valley of Vartana.”

Pietr absorbed this information with a severe look on his face.

“And this derelict was still untouched?”

“Actually, a salvage crew had set up an operation on board, but one of them had gone insane and murdered everyone else. He tried to kill us too, but we made it back to the ship.”

“Poor man,” Pietr said.

“I thought you might be interested in this.”

“I am. Do you have the coordinates?”

Gaylen gave them to him.

“Thank you,” Pietr said. “Though I cannot guarantee I or someone else will be able to look into this any time soon.”

“No. Just thought I’d pass it along.”

“Yes. And I will try to pass it along in turn.”

The black and red-clad warrior leaned back in his seat.

“But things are hectic, I get it,” Gaylen said.

For a little while they simply sipped their drinks in a comfortable enough silence.

“Say... Pietr?” Gaylen then began.

“Yes?”

“There are murmurs of an organised response to the Authority,” Gaylen whispered. “Building and waiting to strike. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Pietr’s hesitation before responding told Gaylen plenty.

“That is not a subject to discuss in public, Gaylen,” the man told him quietly.

Gaylen nodded.

“Alright. But how about more general chat? You seek out trouble and stick your nose into places I avoid these days. What’s your opinion on the state of the galaxy?”

Pietr waited a bit before answering.

“We are living through a downward curve,” he then said. “No doubt about it. If one looks back at history, peaks and troughs are simply inevitable.”

“A bit tough for the poor bastards experiencing those troughs personally,” Gaylen commented.

“Yes. And that is why I made my oaths and earned my blade, and why I do what I do. For the now. But there are many fronts of trouble these days and my people aren’t able to respond as we should.”

“I have heard that you guys have been less active on the lanes for a while now,” Gaylen said.

“We are,” he admitted, and took another look into his drink.

“I heard there was... an attack. On your planet,” Gaylen went on.

“There was. And other issues. It may take a couple of generations to recover our full strength.”

“What happened?” Gaylen asked.

“An old enemy,” Pietr said. “An old idea, rather, carried out by new agents. People are always moved by the same forces.”

In light of the subject matter Gaylen withheld any snarky comments about Fringe mysticism. He in fact withheld everything for a few breaths because Pietr clearly wasn’t quite finished, seeking his next words by gazing into the cup with a distant expression.

“We are wounded, and our enemies remain,” the man then said. “But I choose to believe it changes little. The fight goes on.”