Their arrival at the Timeka facility hadn’t been warm the first time around, and now it was even colder. An entire squadron of escort vessels encircled the Hard Luck Hermit as it made its approach to the hangar.

“Doesn’t look like you’re quite as trusted as you used to be,” Tooley noted.

“It’s for show,” Kamak assured them. “If they wanted to take us they’d have lockdown ships out already.”

“I’d feel a lot better about this if Apall had been more specific,” Corey said. His reply to Kamak’s message had just been a text-only invitation, with no specifics beyond a time and place to show up.

“Timeka is as pissed about this whole Morrakesh thing as much as- almost as much as you are,” Kamak said. “Nobody wants their brain getting hijacked after they’re dead.”

Tooley looked out the window at the heavily armed fighters escorting them. Somehow, Kamak’s words failed to reassure her.

“Just relax and get this done,” Kamak said. “We’ll all be back on Centerpoint slamming shiiv’s before you know it.”

Ever the professional, at least when it came to flying, Tooley did her job and sent them drifting into the hangar with ease. The metal gates of the hangar bay slammed down behind them like a guillotine. Tooley stayed in her seat and toyed with a pistol in her lap while the rest of the crew disembarked. Just as before, they went in unarmed, save for Kamak, who kept a single small pistol on his waist. This time they were met by a contingent of armed drones, all with guns at the ready.

“Really rolling out the welcome wagon,” Kamak said, trying a little too hard not to sound nervous. One of the weaponized drones drifted away from the pack and scanned the crew with its camera lens.

“Kamak D-V-Y-B. To Vo La Su. Proceed forward. Others. Remain aboard your vessel.”

Doprel tensed his massive arms and looked to Kamak for confirmation. The captain of the crew hesitated for a moment.

“You...do what they say,” Kamak said. “I don’t like it, but I want to argue with a person, not a robot.”

Farsus and Corey accepted the call and stepped back up the boarding ramp. Doprel lingered a while, taking a moment to look over the crowd of drones and do some mental math before he too retreated up the ramp, leaving only a bewildered To Vo at Kamak’s side.

“Sir?”

“I don’t have any answers for you, kid,” Kamak grunted. “Let’s get going.”

Instinct told Kamak to keep his hand near his gun in a situation like this, and he forced himself not to listen. Partially out of respect for what Timeka represented, but mostly out of fear. The drones surrounding him could tear him and To Vo both to pieces if they felt like it.

Kamak kept his cool while To Vo shuddered alongside him through the entire elevator ride to the office level. A Doccan bodyguard took over for the drones from there, and To Vo started shuddering in a slightly different way. The shuddering only stopped when the Doccan grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her into a lounge chair outside the office of Kiz Timeka.

“Outside. Ms. Timeka will speak to Kamak alone.”

“Ms. Timeka?” Kamak said. “I wanted to speak to Apall.”

“Ms. Timeka has made her decision,” The Doccan said. It probably didn’t even know what it was talking about, but Kamak knew what it meant. Kiz had intercepted his message somehow, and now she was taking matters into her own hands.

“Understood,” Kamak said through gritted teeth. To Vo just nodded along and tried to disappear into her seat. She tried even harder when she got left alone with the Doccan in the hallway, as Kamak stepped into the office.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Kiz Timeka was lounging at her desk, glass of expensive alcohol in hand, and occupied doing reports. She finished up her paperwork and finalized the document before bothering to address her guest. She gestured to a seat, but Kamak stayed standing.

“Kamak. Good to see you again.”

“Kiz. I was expecting a slightly different arrangement.”

“Yes, well, Apall’s initial appraisal of the situation was limited in scope,” Kiz said. “There isn’t much need for discussion. In my capacity as Timeka’s representative on this station, I have decided on our official course of action.”

Kamak had heard that tone of voice before. Usually when he was about to get told to kill someone.

“What are you doing, Kiz?”

“We are saving your life, and making Timeka a tidy profit while we’re at it,” Kiz said. She folded her hands together and leaned forward on her desk. “I’ve been looking into your grave robber theory, Kamak. There is some compelling evidence in its favor.”

After Kamak had first proposed the theory to Apall, Kiz had started doing her homework. Every time a body disappeared, Timeka suffered a loss somehow related to what the dead employee had known or been working on, whether it was in the form of increased competition, being beaten to an opportunity, or just plain old fashioned sabotage. Having a common thread suddenly link their repeated losses of profit had given Kiz an idea.

“Okay, so what’s the play?”

“We need Morrakesh, and we have something Morrakesh wants,” Kiz said. “Your ship, and your crew.”

Kamak leaned on the nearest chair. No further elaboration was required.

“You want bait.”

“In simple terms. Yes.”

“And you want it now,” Kamak said. That explained why she’d kept everybody else on the ship.

“As soon as possible, preferably. It doesn’t have to be now.”

“And what about the cop?”

“Legally speaking, the Galactic Council still considers To Vo your hostage,” Kiz said. “Returning her will earn us some good will.”

“And the rest of my crew?”

“Your collection of unhinged galactic fugitives?” Kiz scoffed. “We’re already fighting an uphill battle trying to rehabilitate your image. Everyone else on that ship is either beyond saving or not worth the trouble.”

“You really think selling them out is the best option?”

“The best option available, Kamak,” Kiz explained. “Frankly this is more effort than a lot of members of our family would’ve put forth on your behalf, Kamak D-V-Y-B. You’re useful, not popular. You got your start by assassinating a member of the Timeka family, if you recall.”

“I killed your dad because your grandma paid me to, Kiz, don’t fucking put that on my head.”

“I know, Kamak, but it’s bad optics,” Kiza said flatly. She spoke about “optics” as if this were some kind of advertising campaign, not a matter of life and death. “And it’s all irrelevant for you right now. You can, however barely, get out of this in one piece. Your crew can’t. That’s the deal. Are you going to take it?”

Kiz Timeka put her drink down on bare wood and waited for a response she wasn’t getting. Kamak sat in his chair and looked at the wooden paneling of Kiz’s desk. It looked expensive, or at least it had at some point. It was scuffed, scratched, and marked by wear and tear. Kiz probably didn’t see a need to take care of it. She could always get a new one.

“I’m waiting, Kamak.”

She kept waiting, and never got her answer.

A shockwave traveled through the room, and the station lurched so hard that Kiz nearly fell from her seat, and spilled her drink all over her desk. Kamak managed to grab his chair and hold himself steady, but the pulse left him mentally rattled anyway. Kiz looked down at the mess on her desk with disgust and then slammed a fist on the communications button built into it.

“What the fuck just happened?”

“We don’t know, ma’am, we’re working on it.”

She grunted in disgust at the incompetence and hung up the call. Kamak was making a call of his own, to the comms center on the Hard Luck Hermit.

“Hey! Are you fuckers still alive?”

“For now,” Tooley snapped. “The fuck was that?”

“Felt like some kind of shockwave,” Corey said.

“We’re in space, Corvash,” Kamak snapped. “There’s no shockwaves.”

“Not unless it’s a subspace pulse,” Tooley said.

“What the fuck is that and what causes it?”

“Short version, it’s a really fucking big shockwave,” Tooley said. There were some complicated explanations involving subatomic particles and inertia, but nobody had time for that. “And it usually happens whenever something really big exits FTL.”

“How big?”

The station rattled again, more aggressively this time. Kiz was thrown forward and hit her head on the desk, while Kamak slid out of his chair and hit the floor.

“What was that? Another whatever pulse?”

“No,” Farsus shouted through the comms. “That was an impact.”

Kiz lifted her head and looked at Kamak, who was looking at the door.

“Time to go,” Kamak said.