Chapter 27

Eteren One Orbital Starbase

Mottmor System, Venddral Raidezel Sector

Date: Zeran 22, Year 4731

On Eteren One, the Stellar Nexus Tavern pulsed with the energy of countless species, beings, and stories. A frequent stop for many passing through the Mottmor system, it thrummed with a mix of languages, laughter, and clinking drinks. Many patrons talked in exaggerated tones and laughed in bursts, while the gambling section was packed with those trying their luck.

Rorgal Fornis thrived on the crowd’s energy, his booming laugh cutting through the tavern. Chewing on a toothpick and idly spinning it between his fingers, he glanced out at the packed bar, briefly reflecting on how it always seemed to stay busy. He remembered the doubters who had laughed when he announced his plan to open a tavern in the Mottmor system.

Rorgal called out, "You know why Krylans don’t play poker?"

A series of shrugs rippled around the bar and a few knowing looks.

"Because they keep mistaking the chips for snacks and eating the pot!"

The punchline earned a mix of groans and chuckles, owed more to Rorgal’s delivery than the joke itself—exactly the reaction he seemed to enjoy most. He laughed louder than anyone else, and for many, it wasn’t the first time they had heard it.

The Krylan at the bar let out a guttural laugh that drew startled glances from nearby patrons, then casually bit into their glass, crunching it as they chewed with the satisfaction of someone who relished unnerving onlookers.

"You see," Rorgal said, pointing at the Krylan with exaggerated amusement before handing them a new drink and glass.

A few awkward laughs and uneasy glances followed from those who had witnessed the act.

Next to Rorgal, the Synthetic Cipher aided in serving customers, adding his own unique style of conversation, occasionally interrupted by glitches in his voice processing. He asked a customer, his words crackling with static, "What... what will it a be be?" Refilling a bowl with peanuts, spilling some.

"Your artificial needs work," said a big, burly Human patron at the bar, looking direct to Rorgal—a traveler passing through the system in command of a small passenger ship, making his first stop at Eteren One.

Cipher’s head snapped toward the man, static crackling through his voice. "T-t-talk to me, sir. No one touches my circuits—n-no! Trust me, you w-wouldn’t want me touching yours!" His stuttered laugh broke awkwardly, the glitch in his voice modulator drawing a round of chuckles from the bar.

A sound emitted from the stage, where a Netraxian five-piece band, Aphlon Nights, was tuning their instruments in preparation for their performance. The sight drew a smile to Rorgal’s face, pleased to have secured the group for the night’s entertainment, hopeful they were worth their booking fee. Many bands traveled through the system, making their rounds to different bars and venues in the region.

Within the bar, Kaelar sat alone in a booth, sipping Selter Whiskey as he tuned out the noise around him. The familiar setting of the tavern offered him a brief escape from the Syndicate’s troubles, which felt entirely his own—troubles that had made him the topic of conversation for many within the group.

Kaelar had spent the day enduring his boss’s tirade, taking the blame for the loss of a Syndicate ship. It had taken all of Kaelar’s restraint not to react in anger. While he couldn’t deny he had made mistakes and accepted the blame, he didn’t agree it was entirely his fault. Still, arguing the point seemed useless.

His encounter with the Human, Camerian, and Augment had started simply enough. The Camerian leaving the station with his debt still unpaid had seemed like a minor issue. What followed, however, had caused significant trouble. Kaelar had assured his boss that their ship wouldn’t make it out of the system—that they would have a ship to sell. Instead, the Seeker had left without a scratch, the debt unpaid, and, worse, it had destroyed one of the Syndicate’s ships without leaving a trace. The incident had made it look as though Kaelar had completely underestimated the risk the Seeker posed, resulting in the Syndicate’s loss.

As he savored his drink, Kaelar’s sharp vision swept over the room, taking in the lively movements and voices of delegates from the ZoulKanar System, their animated gestures blending with the melodic tones of three Uxians nearby. A pair of Seleths conversed, their gestures occasionally punctuated by input from a single insectoid Kirlu.

In a corner, a group of Nsalron discussed their latest research—something that went entirely over Kaelar’s head.

Kaelar finished his drink and signaled for a refill. An Ottorin waitress delivered it promptly. He watched her scurry to another table before turning back to his drink.

Unnoticed by Kaelar, a Human male slipped through the crowd and approached his booth. Reaching the table, he set down a drink identical to Kaelar’s and slid into the seat across from him.

Kaelar’s surprise quickly flared into anger at the audacity of the uninvited guest, though his irritation softened briefly, remaining evident on his face. He was accustomed to speaking with strangers, but there was a protocol to follow—no one was expected to approach him out of nowhere. That wasn’t how he operated. This wasn’t how the Syndicate operated.

The man’s unwavering eyes hinted at danger. Bold tattoos traced his neck and arms. A fitted device on his left forearm stood out, its exact nature unclear. His short, buzz-cut hair and stubble framed a jawline marked by a lone uneven scar, disrupting the hair growth around it. He sat confidently across from Kaelar, eyeing him, his demeanor exuding anything but fear.

Nrek took in the sight of Kaelar, sizing up his strength. He knew full well that Loquars could be tough and fast—a challenging fight if it came to that.

Kaelar wondered what this was all about. Perhaps he wanted the Syndicate’s services—a loan, a hit, or even just company for the evening. Still, there were protocols to follow.

“What makes you think you can sit here without an invitation?” Kaelar’s low voice carried a sharp edge, his irritation barely concealed. "State your business."

The man remained silent, his unflinching gaze holding Kaelar’s. Kaelar noted two empty holsters under his arms.

“I think it’s best you calm yourself,” Nrek said, his voice firm and cold as he took a sip from his drink.

Kaelar sipped his drink, his fur darkening the angles of his face as he stared at Nrek. Not one to be intimidated, though cautious, he casually hit a button on the StatCom buried in his wrist fur. The movement didn’t go unnoticed by the man across from him, but it didn’t seem to bother or concern him.

Go ahead and call for help.

Kaelar’s mind began to wander. Was he a Vanicktus Syndicate operative from a different sect? The Syndicate was vast, its influence spread across the galaxy with varying levels of presence in different areas. Someone always seemed to be pushing into someone else’s territory. Or perhaps this was a rival Syndicate making their move.

“Who are you?” Kaelar asked simply.

“Nrek,” the man replied.

“Looking for something? You’re breaking protocol. If you need our services, there’s a process to follow,” Kaelar said.

“I don’t need anything the Vanicktus Syndicate has to offer, Kaelar,” Nrek said calmly.

Kaelar studied Nrek’s expression, searching for any hint of recognition. Unable to piece it together, Kaelar suspected someone must have recommended him.

“Then what?” Kaelar asked.

“I have some questions,” Nrek replied, taking another sip of his drink.

“Questions?” Kaelar echoed. He leaned back slightly, holding off any action until he discovered what this was all about. “Go ahead. Just so you know, information will cost you as much as anything else.”

“You had a recent encounter with a group that passed through here,” Nrek said.

“I might have,” Kaelar replied. “I’ve had many encounters with those passing through here. Care to be more specific?”

“A Human, a Camerian, and an Augment,” Nrek clarified.

Kaelar processed the information. What does he want with them? he wondered.

“It sounds familiar, but I’m not sure. What’s it worth to you?” Kaelar asked.

“It’s worth more to you to stay out of it,” Nrek said coldly.

“Stay out of it?” Kaelar leaned forward, his tone hardening. “The Camerian owes us a lot of credits. I don’t tolerate interference.” he warned.

“I don’t care about the Camerian. Kill him for all I care. I’m not concerned about him. But Garen Rivers is, so that makes me concerned. For now, leave all of them alone. Most importantly, I suggest you leave Garen Rivers alone.”

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“Garen Rivers?” Kaelar was taken aback. “The old war general?” He thought back to his encounter just two days prior. Recalling Garen’s defiance.

Nrek nodded to confirm, though his expression barely shifted. Still, there was something—contempt, or perhaps recognition—on his face before his neutral mask returned. A part of him found it amusing that the Loquar was completely underestimating Garen. The General is more dangerous than you realize.

“He got involved in my business. He interfered with me collecting a debt owed to us,” Kaelar said.

“That doesn’t matter to me,” Nrek replied firmly. “Call off your hit on him."

"Why does it matter to you?" Kaelar asked

"I know the old General well. He won’t stand by and let you do anything—not without putting himself in danger.”

"Then he should stay out of business that doesn’t concern him." Said Kaelar

Kaelar focused on Nrek for a moment. The man moved with the assurance of someone accustomed to dangerous work. But how did he know? Mercenary? His appearance certainly fit the style. “His friend owes us a lot of money, and he interfered with that. He cost us credits, I’m sure you can appreciate that.” Kaelar retorted.

Nrek’s hand stopped just short of his glass, the wild notion of breaking it over Kaelar’s head sparking in his mind. He let the thought drift away—Eteren One demanded subtler solutions.

“You don’t tell the Syndicate what to do. That’s your warning,” Kaelar shot back.

“Your group doesn’t hold any real power—only over the desperate,” Nrek said slowly. “Listen to me, Kaelar. We don’t want to come after your group, but we will if we have to. And I’m telling you, you don’t want that to happen. We’ll gut every member in the Mottmor system.” Without effort.

“Who do you represent?” Kaelar asked, narrowing his eyes, trying to piece it together.

“Something far worse than your pitiful little Syndicate,” Nrek replied, his voice laced with disdain. “We don’t want to waste our time with the Vanicktus. Though if we do, it will be quick. Do not interfere with our interests. Thant Ry Muolos would annihilate every one of you in this system just to avoid crossing us.

The possibility of who Nrek worked for ran through Kaelar’s mind. At the same time, he couldn’t allow just anyone to come in and threaten him or the Syndicate. What did he know of Thant Ry Muolos?

Nrek motioned around the bar, indicating for Kaelar to look.

Kaelar scanned the room until he spotted Mira. He’d called her for backup the moment Nrek appeared, but Idara and Talon were nowhere to be found. That’s not like them, he thought. His eyes locked on Mira again, noting an unusual concern etched across her features.

At that moment, three figures approached Mira. They were just part of the crowd—until they weren’t. Mira’s breath caught as their cold stares found her, unflinching, the chill of their intent clawing up her spine. Their casual pace gradually closed the distance, making it clear they were headed straight for her.

Their distinct appearances drew passing glances, though none dared linger. On Eteren One, the unusual was routine.

The first was a Human female. Her short, white hair framed a face devoid of warmth, as though years of ruthless efficiency had stripped away any trace of emotion.

Beside her, a tall, imposing man. His pale skin revealed faint veins where organic tissue met augmented plating. His eyes were hidden behind augmented goggles, permanently affixed to his face, and segmented plating covered his neck.

A matte-black synthetic trailed behind, its blank face and fluid movement unsettlingly inhuman.

Kaelar immediately recognized the synthetic model, having encountered something similar before. It was far from common, though he couldn’t quite recall where he had seen it.

The three surrounded Mira, their presence cutting off every possible escape. She stayed calm, fighting to keep her breathing steady, though their eyes seemed to pierce right through her efforts. Occasional glances lingered on them from a few observant patrons, followed by brief whispers to their companions or subtle motions toward Mira, discussing it in hushed tones without drawing attention to themselves.

Kaelar, observing their interaction, noted no change in Nrek’s expression. Instead, Nrek’s focus remained on Kaelar’s face. For a moment, Nrek seemed to experience some discomfort, his jaw tightening briefly. At the same time, a faint light flickered from the device on his forearm, pulsing once before fading. Just as quickly as it began, the discomfort vanished, and his expression returned to its impenetrable calm, now appearing even more focused.

Kaelar’s gaze shifted between Nrek and those surrounding Mira, still wondering why Idara and Talon had not yet arrived at the bar.

“If you want me to drop this, pay the debt for them. Though it’s far from simple as that,” Kaelar said, as he leaned forward. “We lost a ship because of them.”

“That’s not my problem,” Nrek replied coldly.

Nrek finished his drink and rose slowly, his unreadable expression lingering on Kaelar for a moment longer as he stood, looking down at him. “Consider this your only warning, Kaelar. Ignore it, and you won’t see the next one coming. You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.” With that, Nrek turned and made his way toward the exit.

His companions kept their focus on Mira, moving slightly closer. The female stepped almost directly into Mira’s space, making no attempt to hide her augmented arms. Mira’s family had hailed from the Seven Worlds, and she recognized the look and function of augmentations from there—typically designed to restore quality of life rather than enhance strength. Augments from other systems often appeared raw and less refined, but the ones before her were unlike either. These augmentations were something else entirely.

Instinctively, Mira stepped backward, finding herself uncomfortably close to the male companion, whose entire upper and lower jaw were fully augmented.

What have you gotten us into Kaelar?

The synthetic of the group remained motionless, silently observing. For a brief moment, they watched her, their intent unreadable. Then, one by one, they turned and followed Nrek, who had already exited the bar. Each left at a casual pace, disappearing around the corner.

Kaelar watched as Nrek and his companions disappeared out the door, tension still coiled in his chest. Professionals. Few would dare to make a stand against the Syndicate like this. They were either reckless or had the means to back it up, and he didn’t sense they were stupid.

He didn’t like the position they had put him in but was more concerned for Mira, thankful that she now seemed safe.

Draining the last of his drink, he noted Mira, now free from them, approaching and throwing herself into the seat across from him, her expression a mix of concern and relief.

The Ottorin waitress promptly brought Kaelar a fresh drink before moving on to serve another table.

Kaelar’s fist slammed into the table, the sharp sound startling nearby patrons. His frustration boiled over—a culmination of the past couple of days’ failures and Nrek’s implied threats. He was at his limit. Days of mounting frustration had left him in a foul mood. He had come to the bar to relax, not to deal with this, and it only added to his irritation.

Do they think I’m weak? His position as the Vanicktus Syndicate’s enforcer on Eteren One depended not just on his authority within the Syndicate, but on the fear his name invoked. Public defiance could easily alter that perception. Strength wasn’t just important—it was everything. His power hinged on fear—his name alone had to inspire it.

Eteren One was different from most postings. The RDF’s security measures were tight, making it nearly impossible to operate openly without drawing their attention. Often, it meant working with restraint. Only in the station’s low sub-levels could they escape the watchful eyes of the security scanners, and even there, every move had to be made carefully.

“Hey, easy on my table! It didn’t do anything to you!” Rorgal Fornis shouted from behind the bar, waving his toothpick at Kaelar, his tone half-serious. Without waiting for a response, he quickly moved on to serving a drink and continuing his conversation with a couple of recently arrived off-duty RDF officers at the bar.

Kaelar waved him off, shooting him a look.

“Who was that?” Mira asked.

“Someone named Nrek,” Kaelar replied, recounting the encounter to her, including what had been said and his concerns about Garen Rivers specifically. He found it curious that Nrek’s main focus seemed to be the old war general. “Did they give you any indication of who they might be?” he asked.

“No.” Mira said. “Who’s he working for? And why does he care?”

Kaelar didn’t respond immediately. His focus turned inward for a moment. “You said that augmented officer, Taylen, was part of some RDF Special Forces. Do you think they’re related to that?”

“The RSIA,” Mira corrected. “Maybe, but I don’t think so.”

“That’s interesting,” Kaelar said.

“Why’s that?” Mira asked.

“They’re heavily augmented. All Human,” Kaelar noted.

“That is curious,” Mira agreed, realizing how obvious it was and how stunned the entire encounter had left her.

“I sent notifications to all three of you. Why are you the only one here?” Kaelar asked.

“I don’t know, Kaelar,” Mira replied, glancing at her remlink just as a message came through. “Wait—Talon and Idara were engaged as well, but they’re free now and on their way here.”

“They stopped them from coming here? Who could stop Idara?” Kaelar’s tone carried an edge of disbelief, his mind already working through the possibilities.

“We’ll have to ask her in person. She’s not much for texts,” Mira replied.

“You need to find out who they are,” Kaelar said simply.

“I will,” Mira assured him.

“And contact your friend in security. I want to know if they’ve left the station, what they’re flying—anything we can uncover,” he said.

“He’s going to want payment,” Mira said.

“Just do it,” Kaelar said sharply. “We might need some backup. Sounds like we’re outnumbered.”

“I think we should proceed carefully until we find out who they are first,” Mira suggested.

Kaelar took a moment to process her words. “You might be right,” he admitted as he stood from the table. He looked at Mira and added, “Come on.”

She followed him as they exited the bar. “Tell Idara and Talon to meet us at my quarters instead. I need you to get to work right away.”

Mira unclipped her remlink from her belt, quickly composing a text message to Idara and Talon.

As they turned the corner, Rorgal Fornis’s voice echoed behind them as he stepped onto the stage. “For your listening pleasure, Aphlon Nights!” His words followed them into the corridor of the merchant center of the station.

Walking through the promenade, Kaelar couldn’t shake Nrek’s parting words. The threat lingered in his mind, demanding immediate action. They needed to determine who Nrek and his companions were, who they worked for, and why they were so concerned about Garen Rivers. He also dreaded the thought of reporting the encounter to Valter Drivaktar, the Mottmor System Lord. But first, he needed information.