“So…” Cameron said, walking in step with Logan as they traversed their way through the bowels of Arsius station, “Wanna tell me what we’re doing here, or are you gonna continue being a secretive jackass?”

“The latter,” Logan said flatly, looking around as they made their way to a dimly lit intersection, surrounded on all sides by run-down storefronts and the corpses of dilapidated factories. He turned left, Cameron following directly behind as the road narrowed into nothing more than a dark alley set between two concrete walls slick with water, oil, and other unknown liquids Logan would rather not think about.

“Oh come on dude,” Cameron complained. “You’ve been weird for the past week. Ever since we got back from Celephis, you’re either locked up in your room and when you are feeling sociable, you’re being a snippy little asshole. Just what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan muttered. They passed by a series of offshoots and Logan took one, setting them on a short walk to a large iron door, the light shining underneath and through the keyhole promising an area of interest to the two.

Cameron wasn’t ready to enter a new space, however, and he was fed up with Logan’s deflection and avoidance of his questioning. He grabbed Logan by the shoulder and roughly spun him around, looking at him with frustrated contempt.

“Logan, what the fuck is your problem?” He growled, digging his fingers tighter into the collar of his shirt, “Why are you being such a moody little asshole?!”

Logan grabbed Cameron’s wrist and twisted hard, causing him to let out a pained yelp as he felt the bones grind and pop, before Logan yanked his arm behind his back, pushing him hard against the wall, dragging his face across the brick as he spoke in a dangerous, gritted whisper, “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on me again, you got that?”

Cameron wasn’t defenseless however, being no stranger to a hand-to-hand fight, he whipped his head back hard, hitting Logan directly in the face, heating the cracking of cartilage as he bloodied the man’s nose. Logan grunted in pain, while Cameron delivered a swift elbow to his ribs, causing Logan’s grip to loosen, allowing Cameron to shove him off and create space.

“Agh!” Logan said, holding the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop the bleeding, “By the stars kid, you got a hard head.”

“Shut up!” Cameron snapped, leveling a punch towards Logan’s stomach. The blow connected with a dull thud and Logan let out a wheezing gasp as the air was forced out of him. He didn’t have long to relish the fact his attack had landed; however as Logan delivered a right hook directly to his jaw, causing him to stumble back against the wall, his vision began to swirl and he fought to keep consciousness.

“Kid,” Logan said coldly, taking a defensive stance, “If you felt like scheduling an ass-whooping, all you needed to do was ask.”

“Keep talking shit,” Cameron shot back, putting his hands up, “But I’ve had a lot of on-the-job training recently.”

“Well then… Let’s see if you can apply it.”

“HEY!!” A voice bellowed, a scratchy low-toned growl that sounded like they’d been smoking since childbirth. Cameron and Logan both turned down the alley to see the door at the end had opened, and two people had stepped out into the dim light. One was a stranger, the other a familiar face, both were a surprise.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

“Alistair?” Logan called.

“Sybil?!” Cameron exclaimed

“Heh, guilty as charged,” she said, smirking as she waved with her fingers, “You’re some hard men to find.”

“Indeed they are,” the man known as Alistair said with a huff.

“What are you doing here?” Cameron asked, no longer concerned with Logan and focusing instead on the reunion with someone else from his past.

She shrugged nonchalantly, “An EarthGov official needs to be notified and briefed about any operation happening in government-controlled space. When Alistair here put in the request for a representative, I figured it was as good a time as any to drop in and see how you boys had been. So I accepted, on the grounds that I picked the pilots, and it turns out that he already knew Logan… it’s a small galaxy after all.”

“Indeed,” Alistair confirmed with a nod, “so if you two would be so kind as to stop acting like children for five seconds and come inside, I’d sure love to get this briefing underway and get the hell out of this shithole.”

Logan turned to Cameron and thumbed a finger in Alistair's direction, “This is why I’ve been pissy and secretive,” he said aloud.

Cameron blinked once, then twice, looking back between Logan and Alistair, unsure of what the correlation was between the man’s presence and Logan’s mood.

“I don’t get it,” he said after a moment, shaking his head.

“Oh don’t worry Kid,” Logan said with a sigh, walking past him and into the doorway, “You’re about to.”

Cameron followed behind, still perplexed about the situation as the two of them filed past Alistair and Sybil, coming into a room that was the complete opposite of the world outside. Where the alley was dimly lit, and covered in the grime and decay of years gone by, the interior was warm, well-lit, and opulently finished with a soft cushioned booth that wrapped around a dark mahogany table. Colorful tapestries hung loosely from the ceiling, treating the eye to a bevy of hues not often seen amongst the industrial metal that made up Arisus as a whole. A thick layer of smoke lingered in the air, thick and permeated with a fragrance of fruit and mint. To Cameron, it was as if he’d shifted back into the opulent lifestyle of a Ketrisite noble, if only for the briefest moment.

The pair of them sat down, with Logan sliding all the way towards the back of the booth, keeping his back to the wall. Cameron sat a few feet away, with Sybil sliding in dangerously close to him, offering a wink, as they all turned to see Alistair Kincaid standing before them, giving Cameron a more detailed look at the man.

He was an older man, mid-fifties if Cameron had to guess, old but not haggard, and dressed for success with a purple silk button down struggling to contain the early beginnings of a slight paunch, black tie, and pair of black slacks. His straw blonde hair, streaked with white, was slicked back so far it seemed to nearly blend in with his scalp and gave him a prominent widow’s peak. His eyes were fitting for a man in his position, whatever that may be, and were a cold neutral gray. The only surprising thing that Cameron could catch was the glint of a thread port on his wrists as he clapped his hands together, eager to get this meeting kicked off.

“So,” he said, gray eyes scanning over everyone in the room, “What do you know about A.I.?”