Two nights later, I sat in a quiet corner booth of a local nightclub sipping on a fruity cocktail. My companion was a distinguished-looking Syreni man named Rorik.

The Kraken was a nightclub that provided live entertainment of every type to its high-rolling customers. The preferred form of amusement for most patrons, however, was watching two skilled fighters pummel each other into oblivion in a small cage at the center of the club’s atrium.

My drinking companion was the fight coordinator. It was his job to scout out potential talent and arrange matches the clientele would enjoy. Luckily, there weren’t a lot of rules or requirements for being a participant, and winners got a cut of the earnings from any bets placed on their match. Losers went home with nothing.

I took in small details of the open, arena-like nightclub. Secluded booths separated by digital privacy screens allowed inhabitants a look at the entertainment while shielding whatever naughty business they decided to get into. On the main floor, a combination of plush lounging areas and more traditional rows of chairs dotted the large open area around the fighting cage.

Through a large archway on the right of the room, people danced with abandon around a central DJ platform. The music was electronic and pumping, and the room was bathed in the turquoise patterns of light reflecting through the water. Even from my vantage point, I could see the ceiling consisted of a giant aquarium of some sort with luminescent varieties of wildlife fluttering through the dimly lit water.

Most people might look at a sleek, modern establishment like this with appreciation and awe. For me, it only punctuated everything I hated about nightclubs. I much preferred the cozy comradery of a bar where you could connect with someone.

Nightclubs just felt impersonal and clinical to me. Every interaction I had ever had in a nightclub had always felt like it was coated in a thin film of sleaze.

From my vantage point in a second-tier booth, I watched a familiar Centuri man subdue his smaller opponent in the cage. This would be the second fight in a row he would win if the current beat-down continued.

“Lover not a fighter, my ass,” I muttered to nobody in particular.

“What was that?” Rorick asked.

“I said, he’s quite a fighter,” I lied, pointing at the Centuri.

I had spent the past two days since I first began suspecting Dick was a changeling debating on a plan of action. Confronting him wouldn’t solve anything, but ignoring it wasn’t an option I was willing to accept, either. If he truly was a shapeshifter and had been hiding it the whole time, that put him definitively at the top of my list of suspects for the transport sabotage.

So, I had bided my time, looking for an opportunity to force his hand.

Dick had disappeared the next day after our heated moment on the dock. Whether it was to heal up without anyone else noticing or to go do something shady, I couldn’t say. When he returned that evening, he said he had been trying to earn some money for the debt payoff. The stack of credit cards he produced had a stretchy binding around them with a distinct insignia stamped on it.

I stared at that same insignia, a many-legged sea creature that was The Kraken’s logo, emblazoned on the coaster beneath my drink.

“He’s one of the new up-and-comers,” Rorik said, referring to the Centuri man I strongly suspected to be Dick.

I nodded and leaned forward to meet Rorik’s gaze.

“Ok, how about him,” I said. This was the opening in the conversation I had been waiting for all night.

My plan wasn’t a complicated one, but it did require finesse. Step one had been using every bit of my considerable Sagitarri charm to convince Rorik I was worth his time. He still seemed skeptical that I could fight as well as I claimed. There was one distinct advantage to being an Outlaw that worked in my favor, however. People understood that when an Outlaw put money behind something, they usually meant businesses.

It had taken a sizeable wager to convince Rorik to give me a shot in the cage. I told him I was looking for quick credits, not a career, and he could bill it as a one-night-only exhibition. If I won, good for me; if I lost, at least one of his better fighters would have a good showing for the night. After agreeing to the experiment, we retreated to the booth to watch the night’s matches and pick out an opponent worthy of our wager but low stakes enough for Rorik to risk my, as yet, untested fighting skills.

Step two of my plan involved making sure that opponent was the Centuri fighter, aka probably Dick.

The match was winding down quickly once the Centuri got his opponent pinned to the floor with a knee on his throat.

“You feel confident enough to take on a Centuri? And this one seems to be on a win streak,” Rorik inquired, incredulously. I responded with an indifferent shrug.

“Centuri fighters always rely on their size and muscles to win a fight,” I said. “Brute strength can topple these inexperienced fighters you’ve pit him up against. But if you want to test whether your new hotness is up for higher stake matches, you’ve got to put him up against someone with real fighting skill.”

“And that’s you?” he asked, skeptically.

“I know what I bring to the table,” I responded confidently, “but the only way you’ll know is to see it in action. If I’m lying, then your new guy will put me in my place with all the rest of the fodder he’s chewing through. No harm done to you, and you’ll walk away with my generous wager.”

Rorik stared at the cage in silent contemplation as the Centuri finished the fight, and a high-pitched beep signaled the end of the match.

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“Let’s hear it for tonight’s big winner! Ladies and gents alike love to drool for him. Your competitor, Monster Johnson!” the announcer said.

The fruity cocktail I was sipping nearly spewed from my lips as the MC announced the Centuri’s stage name. Oh, that’s definitely him, I thought. I watched two beautiful and buxom Syreni women leading the man out of the now unlocked cage and toward the backstage area.

“Fine,” Rorik said. “But it has to be tonight.”

I raised an eyebrow at the quick turn around but just shrugged in acknowledgement.

“Your guy just went two rounds, are you sure he’s up for it?” I asked.

“Well, that goes back to what you said about testing him, doesn’t it?” Rorik answered. “Besides, I’m only willing to take this risk because one of our other fights was cancelled tonight. If you get out there and make a fool of yourself, I’ll bill it as a stand-in match.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “Where do I get ready?”

* * *

A short time later, I was following one of the club hostesses down a back hallway leading to the locker rooms. She escorted me past the bouncer guarding the backstage area and pointed me toward the end of a hallway.

“All the way down to the end and take a right,” she said. “It’s the first door on the left.”

I nodded my thanks and made my way down the hallway.

As I rounded the corner, the door to the locker room opened, and the two women I had seen lead the Centuri away emerged. One looked sullen, while the other looked irritated. They marched down the hallway in the opposite direction from me.

Right before they rounded the far corner, I heard the irritated one say, “You’d think a man with a name like Monster Johnson would be more open to have a little fun.”

“That’s two nights in a row he’s said no,” the other woman whined.

“Maybe he’s just not into women,” the first one said as they disappeared around the corner.

Odd, I thought. That doesn’t sound like Dick. For one, he definitely seemed into women.

Turning the knob to the door softly, I pushed it open and slipped inside the locker room. As soon as I stepped inside, two things caught my attention. The first was a pile of bandages tossed haphazardly toward the trashcan. The second was the now familiar intoxication of a certain pheromone emitting from the large Centuri man who was standing at a desk with his back to the door. It was faint, more like his natural output than the targeted variety, but it was unmistakably there.

Johnson, who I felt certain was indeed Dick, pulled a shirt down over his head to cover his torso as he turned in my direction. The sound of the door opening and closing hadn’t escaped his attention.

“Ladies, as I said before, tonight's not a good night....” he trailed off, realizing who was standing in the room with him.

Leaning casually back against the door, I immediately felt the complete withdrawal of his pheromones as he attempted to mask his presence. Too late, I thought smugly, feeling more confident in my plan.

“Can I help you?” he said. “I think you’ve got the wrong locker room, Miss....um??”

“Skye,” I said, smiling slightly. “Just Skye is fine. And it looks like I found the right room. This is where the new fighters get ready for matches, right?

“Are you planning to get in the cage then?” he asked, raising his eyebrow in a sexy arch.

“Sure. I like a good fight,” I said. “Get’s the blood pumping, you know? Plus, the money sounds good.”

I pushed myself off the door and walked casually to one of the empty lockers in the room. Turning my back to him, I removed my leather moto-jacket and hung it on a peg in one of the lockers. Then, I unhooked the harness that held my blaster in place along my back and removed it, as well.

Facing back toward him, I placed a booted foot on the bench that ran in front of the lockers and pulled one small throwing dagger from a strap around my ankle. I could feel his eyes on me as I divested myself of weapons. Looking up to meet his eyes, I shrugged and gave him a cheeky smile as I removed a final small blade from under my shirt where it had been strapped just beneath my breasts.

“Got em' all?” he teased.

“The ones I can remove,” I bantered back.

He chuckled, and despite my best determination, I felt a twinge of attraction pulse through me. It really wasn’t fair that he managed to find a form that was even more evocative in tight leather pants.

“Sounds dangerous for whoever gets stuck in that cage with you,” he said, his tone flirtatious. “Though I might say it’d be worth it.”

We'll see how you feel about that an hour from now, I thought, hiding a grin as I pinned the long side of my half-bob haircut back out of the way.

“You’re the guy with the sexually suggestive stage name, right?” I quipped. “Monster Johnson? Is that a stage name... or did your parents just hate you?”

He laughed deeply before continuing.

“You know who you’re fighting? I thought my match was the last of the night,” he said.

I was about to answer him when the door opened and a scrawny young human man popped his head in.

“Mr. Johnson, sir,” the guy practically squeaked. “Oh! I see you’ve already found your way here Miss Alnasi. Good that will save some time.”

He turned toward Johnson and held out a stack of credit cards.

“Here’s your payment for tonight’s two wins, but the boss has scheduled a final match of the night between you and Miss Alnasi. He knows you were only set for two, but he insists and says he’ll double the take for the third match...” he cast a nervous gaze toward me, “um...should you win.”

I nodded my thanks for his consideration. It was nice of him to pretend like he thought I had a chance of winning when I knew everyone doubted I would last five minutes. It was an assumption I was kind of counting on.

I had dragged Vomero partially into my scheme tonight. He didn’t know about Dick, but he knew I was planning to enter a cage fight in a match where I would seemingly be outclassed. We had arrived separately and avoided contact so as not to draw any suspicions. The plan was for him to take whatever money we had and bet it all on my unlikely victory.

“I’m your opponent? You sure you want to do that?” Johnson said.

“Don’t be intimidated,” I goaded. “You just saw me get rid of all my weapons.”

“That I could see,” he said, reminding me of my earlier words.

“Ummm...” Rorik’s assistant interrupted. “So sorry, Mr. Johnson, but Mr. Rorik didn’t make it sound like a request...extra matches as needed was a condition of your agreement as long as proper compensation is provided.”

By the look he gave the poor assistant, he didn’t appear to like being told he had no choice in the matter. I sympathized with that sentiment, but it was working in my favor for now.

Since landing in Veridi and getting to know my fellow detainees, I had been reluctant to keep thinking one of them tried to kill us all for some blob in the cargo bay floor. Instead, I preferred to imagine the threat was primarily external and whoever the inside man was died during the ordeal.

But it was time to let go of my nostalgia for the close-knit crewmates I had lost. Otherwise, this façade of comradery could very well get me killed if I let my guard down around the wrong person.

Step three of my plan was the most straight-forward part: kick his ass until he admitted to being a shapeshifter and/or sabotaging asshole. But for that part of the plan to work, I needed to make sure he accepted the fight.

“If you’re reluctant to get in the cage with me, they might be able to find some other body for me to work over,” I said suggestively.

My ploy seemed to work as he let his eyes drift lazily over me from head to toe. I felt an involuntary shiver at his inspection.

Sighing, the handsome Centuri turned toward the nervous looking assistant.

“That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,” he said, and I was sure he wasn’t talking about his agreement with Rorik. “Tell your boss he’s got himself another match.”