Three hours later I was in Rizler, the financial district platform over the Irrado Sea. Try traveling with a Creosian newborn, crying the whole time, and hoping to Goddess it doesn’t puke in the turbulence.

I think I’ve been to Rizler several times. I go there only for pleasure, but only briefly, it’s too damn expensive there. Those cheating bastards charge for water. Rich or poor, that platform milks you dry.

If it’s a job there, then yes, I tell them to pay more.

Walking to the location, I could feel the sun bring life to my skin and dark brown dreads for once. I was aware that my presence intimidated some folks. I had my weapons in the open but that was just because I was the only Halcunac in the city.

The meeting place was on the tallest plateau; the streets weren’t clogged with hovercrafts like they had been on the lower levels. A street food vendor was a block away; my backup in case Benali did not feed me. Creosian stews wafted through the air, making my stomach groan for attention.

There was a sign over black double doors. The Starlight. Fancy.

“Just go in, hear the pitch, and move on. Don’t do anything you’ll regret, big guy,” I muttered.

I pushed the doors and went down a short flight of stairs into a short hallway lit with actual electric bulbs. I assumed that the red-skinned, four-armed male Caducera guarding the entrance was a warrior-trained bouncer. His armor looked too tight and he had three hardwood clubs strapped to his belt. Must be some wealthy clientele inside.

He held up all four hands to stop me. “Weapons. Club policy,” he said in a low and tired voice.

“I get the program,” I said with a sigh. My plasma pistol went into the only locker alongside dozens of other confiscated weapons. I held onto my katana a bit longer. “If I catch a single scratch on the sheath, or give me shit you have not seen it, your hand is mine.” I said as I handed it to him.

The guy—lets’s call him Mr. Brute—examined the sword’s braided leather handle and scabbard, without unsheathing the katana too much, he inspected the blade and the emerald vines engraved on the base. Satisfied, Brute set it by a broadsword and hammer.

“State your business,” he asked.

“Meeting a potential client for a job. He said he’d be here,” I answered.

He hummed under his breath. “Yes. He told me a Halcunac was coming.” He paused. “Go in. But cross a line, mercenary…Halcunac. You’re out. Cazu?”

“Crystal.” I smiled, gave him a two-finger salute, and entered.

You’ve been there, Xi’Tra? I know, Brute was an ass, I could tell.

The Starlight was one ritzy place. White tablecloths, shiny silverware, pressed waiter suits on several different species, and food made for “sophisticated” pallets. Blah blipidy blah. I felt underdressed standing there. Several businesspeople of the same species (name unpronounceable) mingled amongst themselves with their universal translators turned off while eating what appeared to be fish.

Creosian stew was there, a prime staple. My mouth watered after having lived on rations for a couple months. I missed food that didn’t come from freeze-dried packets.

“Ah, Mr. Teal, you arrived,” Benali said as he approached me from the bar with a cocktail glass in hand. I could have drop kicked the bastard through the window and smashed him against the concrete in Staz River Park ten stories down. “I have a private booth for us. Hope you like savory flavors.”

I don’t know how long it had been before I realized exactly what I ate. I cherish the fact that I can get by without much, such as a well-seasoned meal at a street vendor and a movie on someone else’s screen. “Hope you don’t make me broke. I didn’t count how hungry you were.”

“You don’t say,” I said with my mouth full. I was croging hungry. I gulped down a glass of wine—housemate Shriv honey wine—swallowed, and belched to the side, with class. “Oh man, do I love calibird pie. Sometime I beg clients to feed me, but I thank you sir.”

“Certainly,” Benali said, stunned at but the three empty dishes. He still had his bottomless cocktail.

I leaned back as I sipped my wine. The private booth had a yellow half-circle couch and magic-lit lights floating on the ceiling. “So, Benali, what sort of job is this?”

Benali nodded. “You seem eager to have it.”

“You noticed.”

“Well, for Halcunacs, it is customary to know one another,” he said. “You haven’t spoken proper greetings since you came, or at the ship. Bear with me, this is my first time meeting a Halcunac in a while.”

“Oh, I see,” I said with my eyes nearly closed. I pointed to my stump behind my head and said, “See this?”

“Yes.”

“I had an honor dread, but not anymore. I severed my ties with Viro a long time ago. They don’t come after me much often, but sometimes for an excuse. You ask anything about what they see me as, forget it.”

The same goes to you, Xi’Tra. Do your own research.

Benali’s black eyes widened. “Severed? But you’re a hybrid species. You can’t use magic anymore?”

“Nope, and don’t ask how. Forget my culture, get to the details. If you want to ask more questions about my people, then forget hiring me.”

Benali stroked his white beard. “I suppose I’ll respect your reasons.”

“Good,” I said. “The job. What is it?”

Benali cleared his throat. “It’s a non-military survey job. Nothing too hard to handle.”

I skewed my brow. “Government work?”

Benali nodded.

“Huh. I’ve done survey jobs for mining corporations and ground troop movement, but not government. It’s not Viro?”

“Certainly not.”

“Okay. What am I surveying?”

Benali sipped his milky cocktail. “The company, contracted by the Republic, hires third-party techs to monitor one suspicious asteroid in deep space.”

“That’s it? A rock?”

“Not just any rock,” Benali continued. “A year and a half ago, it entered a restricted system. We mentioned it to the Council but none gave interest or clearance for further investigation. We need someone with stealth technology to help us, and your ship has it.”

“Okay. What system?”

Benali leaned forward but not over the table. “Politically sensitive?”

I leaned forward. “How sensitive?”

“PCPA.”

I leaned back, whistled, and nodded. “Primitive Culture Protection Act.”

You know about it? Okay, just making sure.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“Precisely, and a well-known primitive species I’ll press.”

I asked about the asteroid’s trajectory, and the Council’s involvement. Get this: Asteroid Helen was deemed harmless to the Council, a pass by, but the company made it a potential for extinction. Not even the Council itself had the nerve to call for movers to lower the threat.

“It just be natural selection removing a thorn in the galaxy. Big whoop. Plenty of young species to go around. What’s so important about this species to potentially wipe it from existence, maybe?” I drank my wine.

Benali paused. “The planet is Red Flagged.”

I grumbled in my cup, looking dead on at Benali. “You’re joking.”

“I value life, as do your people. I’d rather see a violent species evolve a little longer then be extinct.”

“And you want me to monitor it?” I said. “In hopes a murderous species doesn’t kill anything that’s not their own?”

The Gnogal nodded.

You know where this went.

“Goodbye.” I stood, set my glass down, and started for the door.

“Wait, we’re not done. You haven’t heard the rest.”

“I heard enough, this job sounds like a death trap.”

“It is not, I assure you.”

“My answer is no.” My hand rested on the lock screen beside the door.

“Is that how you drop a money making chance? You’re just like all Halcunacs!”

Had that guy ever heard how bad Red Flagged planets are?

“Benali. Red Flagged PCPA planets are restricted systems.”

“I know, but…”

“They are dangerous, primitive cultures. Vicious, unstable, and may I add psychotically murderous species. One Academy professor pinned those planets as potential galaxy hyper novas. I can’t be part of this, I have other things to look forward to, not risking my neck for science or a cannibal’s supper.”

I twisted back to Benali, still on the couch with a look of resentment.

“It’s a scam. Is it?” I asked

“Not a scam. I swear on my ancestor’s alter, it is real,” Benali said with a one-hand salute, a Gnogal gesture promising truth.

“Don’t give me that alter stuff, I know better. Unless you have one damn good reason why I even should consider.”

Benali shook his head and his beard swayed. “All you do is park on the surface, monitor our survey computer, send reports, and leave after the time required. And before you ask, we can’t risk watching it remotely, the asteroid’s spinning on its axis. This will pull you from your financial dilemma.”

“Try me,” I dared.

Benali said the exact amount and my hand dropped from the door. I had a relapse in thought.

Eight digits.

That amount of cash was more than I had ever earned. Real cash, not credits. All my mercenary life I had scrounged funds, using every cent, even connections like Nova Company to supplement. Benali was offering the amount equivalent to a king’s retirement for fifty years. Council members don’t earn that much.

If the reward was posted, people would have killed to have the survey job.

Then again, it was suspicious. He said the price like he knew me.

I clenched my jaw and glared at the Gongel.

“It is a lot,” Benali said, “but we pay contractors well. An honest beast giving up a potential kill to the less fortunate is noble or cautious. This is vital for the planet’s unhindered natural development, even for a Red Flagged planet of course.”

It had to be bribe money. Now Xi’Tra, if you were in the same position as me, hearing all this shit, what would you do? Retire? Start a new business? Buy a terraformed moon all for yourself? Who cares? I value life too, but this was sounding like it had an agenda.

“There are twenty known Red Flagged planets in this galaxy. Why should this one be saved?” I asked.

“How do you know that number?” Benali asked.

“Academy graduate. You can never forget that number.”

“Right. I understand,” Benali nodded. “But are you interested?”

“I did not say that. Tell me the planet’s name or I’m gone.”

He did not say it out loud, only a fool would have caused that kind of ruckus.

He pulled out his touchpad from his robes. With three key commands, a paper printed out from the touchpad’s top. Since when did the financial district use paper?

He held it up and said, “A copy of the contract, as requested.”

I snatched it from his hands. What he said was true, the asteroid’s coordinates were unfamiliar, but there was no question, the Red Flagged planet’s name in bold was a massive eye opener. It was a highly known species, and the most violent. I felt rage boil inside me as my body froze and shook.

I went dali shit and pushed the table aside, grabbed Benali by the shoulders, and pinned him against the wall. The sound was loud enough to have alerted others outside.

“Terra Firma! Are you Goddess damn croging kidding me!?” I exclaimed so hard my neck felt like steel.

“Put me down, Mr. Teal!”

“No! Those humans are the top tier feared species in the galaxy. You better spill the truth why you want them to live or so help me I will beat the truth out of you!”

“Stop this or else!” He punched my arms but it was useless.

“Not until you tell me!”

Remember when I said that Gnogal’s are magical? Yeah, I’m the idiot of my own joke.

I assaulted a magical being, one big fat mistake in the galaxy. I remember light flashing in my face and my body slamming against a wall. I think my chest became someone’s punching bag before I was knocked out.

----------------------------------------

I forgot why I was taking notes while Jaruka recounted his meeting.

“My…goodness,” I said. “But…was he alright?”

“Fine, I think, but I should’ve punched him first,” Jaruka said. “I was lucky enough to pocket the paper.”

I paused to check my notes. I had plenty of key points and theories, and I double checked for connection I had not seen initially. Jaruka’s story was an interesting one indeed.

My room felt stuffy for that first hour, and my joints were feeling quite stiff. I asked if we could bring the interview outside and Jaruka agreed. I understood that Ketho was furious at my request, but Tigap constructed a kinetic shield across the patio. The guards were on the other side patrolling the area keeping unwanted humans and terrans from seeing us, careful not to disturb any customers at the winery.

I restarted the recordings after being seated at a table.

“So what happened after the fight at The Starlight?” I asked.

“I’ll get to that.” Jaruka took a drink of the Walsh family’s signature wine, it was the only thing that he drank. He did not sample the cheeses and fruits that we were offered, and luckily my nanites allowed me to. However, I wanted to finish the interview before eating.

“I will ask this,” Jaruka started and I prepared to write. “Did Denverbay tell you about Benali?”

“I thought we agreed I ask the questions?”

“I want to know what he told you,” he said with distaste.

I set my pen down. “Okay. He told me nothing about Benali.”

“Assumed he would.”

“But before coming here,” I said. “He said a Red Flagged planet experienced a catastrophe and made the species docile. I can agree.” My main focus was to not enrage a human to the point of murder.

“Anything else?” Jaruka asked.

“Oh yeah. You were involved, the PCPA was broken, humans gaining magic which I laughed a little about, but no, nothing else. He hired me to report it.”

Jaruka was quiet for a moment until he said, “No Benali? No Reapers? Or my imprisonment? Or the fact that an odd-looking Reaper nearly slaughtered me, a small portion of the Endeavour crew, and the terrans? Not even this whole country attacked by enthralled zombies and die right when the reaper was nearly blown apart by terran magic?”

I did not move for a few seconds. I pulled myself to say, “What? Reapers? The Malcar’Ji are here?”

The Malcar’Ji, a magical reptilian-insectoid species from deep sectors of the galaxy. Most revered for their nature when exposed to magical energies. Halcunacs and Malcar’Ji share similarities in hiding from the Republic, except the Malcar’Ji set strict practices to stay neutral and non-threatening, naturally evolving out of their current state. A reaper committing violent, genocidal acts was not common by any means.

“No…he didn’t,” I said.

Jaruka sniffed. “Just like any other person in the Council.” He pulled a few dreads back. “I’ll get into the Reaper later, less you want to feel sick from your snack.”

“Oh, I’m certainly interested, Mr. Teal. Malcar’Ji violence is rare, almost extinct, and that information can tip balance with those clans and their political affiliation with the Republic. It’s pure silver for every journalist. I need to know the why, the how, the what, just…everything.”

“Same here, but I still have nightmares to ask. Go to Scott, he had front row seats to that monstrosity.”

“Monstrosity?”

“Later. I’m bored.”

I shook my head and took up my pen. “Right. So back to Benali. You accepted the job.”

“Do the stars twinkle at night? Obviously, but I had time to think before accepting it. Get this: before I left for the system for four months, he gave me a year’s supply of Slipspace crystals.”

I gasped so loud it might have caught attention from the humans and terrans.

“Knew you would react to that,” Jaruka said.

“A year’s worth?” I exclaimed. “Tha-That amount is for starships and government-sanctioned cruisers. With that much, you can travel just about anywhere in the galaxy. How much?”

“An unmarked fifty kilo case.”

I gasped again.

“But not to travel with,” he said. “Each crystal was big enough for communication between Creos and Terra Firma. I had my own travel crystals if you were wondering. From the math I did out of pure boredom one day, that crate, one year it looked, was four months of coms.”

Jaruka leaned forward over the Terra Firma food. “No markings on the crate. No numbers. Black market supply. Funny, huh?”

All too funny, and familiar, this reminded me of a similar case. A fleet of colony ships with thousands of unregistered Slipspace crystal crates, all bought off on the black market, nigh impossible to trace. The colony was fined, but it was impossible to trace the buyer or supplier. Most of the crates went missing during processing, but that was what the officers assumed. I must look up that when I get home.

“Do you still have the crate?” I asked Jaruka.

Jaruka shook his head. “I looked all over for it. Somebody at Area 51 must’ve took it. Maybe Griffon. Who knows?”

“Griffon? What’s this Area 51?”

“I’ll…explain later,” he said. “Now it’s my turn. Are you going to eat something?”

I blinked. “Sorry?”

“Look, Katie brought this wine and food just for you. I can drink the wine, but I’m not going near the food. I have reasons.”

I looked down at the untouched platter, it was filled with local cheeses like Bleu, Gouda, and Cheddar, sourdough bread slices and tiny French rolls, and an assortment of nuts and dried fruits. All of it complimented the winery’s best seller, I think it was Cliffhanger Port.

“I’ll get to it,” I simply said. “I think it’ll last. This is more important than the food.”

“You sure?” Jaruka asked.

“Very sure. You got my interest. Now tell me, what happened after the restaurant fight?”