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The Starlight Lancer
Chapter Forty-Three: Devil's Last Deal

Chapter Forty-Three: Devil's Last Deal

“Everyone in this line of work wants to talk about deals, and no one’s worth trusting.”

—Legendary Bounty Hunter and Gunslinger Tierdol Darhklaw

Zaina thought about everything the woman told her. Despite her self-loathing and guilt, she still wanted to be a lancer—even if they were essentially warriors-for-hire. Nothing could be made right, but perhaps this was her chance to prevent future wrongs.

She nodded. “Yes.”

The woman stood. “Excellent. Then your release will be arranged immediately. Androids will be here no later than nightfall. They’ll have your personal effects—and the cargo.”

Zaina’s eyebrow rose. “Wait, cargo?”

“Well,” the woman said, “Drel Ofrans can’t exactly be expected to return his rental ship, can he? We’ll see to that. But there was a clause in his contract about his body, should he die and his remains be retrievable—that his remains should be sent back to Kaado for burial in a proper lancer ceremony.”

After blinking a few times, Zaina narrowed her eyes. “You want me to do it.”

“That is the stipulation for your release, yes.”

Zaina was in disbelief. “That’s why you’re banishing me? Because you’re too lazy to—don’t you have glyphs that could do it?”

“We do,” the woman replied. “However, Kaado is on the other side of the galaxy. Fuel isn’t cheap. If we sent a glyph, it’d be a two-way trip, since, again, the ship was rented out to the Order.”

So that’s why she was being banished—to save Bilvane money. The whole thing stank. “So all that bravado about me being a lancer was bullshit, huh? You’re sending me to the Order with a lancer’s body that I—I doubt that’s going to go well.”

The woman shrugged. “You could look at it that way. You can look at it however you want. It’s a win-win as far as I’m concerned; either you do somehow become a lancer, or they imprison you and you become their problem. Or you could stay here, make me do extra paperwork, and drain our prison budget further—I, for one, pay enough in taxes that go nowhere.”

Zaina shook her head and breathed a sigh of reluctant defeat. Even though it benefited her, this was Otmonzas at its worst—uncaring, callous, and greedy. Maybe it was best for everyone that she left. “Yeah—fine.”

“As for the Order, I’ll see that the androids provide you with a copy of your data file, including the results from here today. It might help smooth things over. Honesty seems to be your strong suit, so go with that.”

Zaina bitterly asked, “Oh, you’re doing me a favor?”

“Think of it as a going-away gift,” the woman replied. Then she turned to Breli and said, “All right, make sure her file gets done so we can release her before the day’s end. Come on, now, we’ve got more work to do.”

With that, they left the room—the door slammed open and shut once more. Zaina stared at the ground in disbelief. She was being released, but the reason for her release was tenuous at best.

What am I going to tell the Order—if I ever even get there?

There was no choice but to deal with that later. For now, she was getting out of here. She hoped the lessons she’d learned on Otmonzas—a place she was glad to never return to—would serve to make her a better lancer.

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Within a few hours’ time, Zaina stood outside the prison complex with an empty satchel. The armor and weapons had been confiscated, leaving her with the clothes on her back. A beacon attached to a small metal chain was draped around her neck—her way of contacting the morgue to pick up Drel Ofrans’s body when she was ready to depart Otmonzas.

Three months. And that’s assuming Hobst gives me my job back after everything.

One of the guards had contacted Hobst—he’d agreed to pick her up, so that was a good sign. She reached into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around a small, flattened cube with rounded edges; this data-chip was her only hope of explaining things to the Order.

The thought of bringing Drel Ofrans’s corpse onto the ship didn’t quite sit right with her; it wasn’t only the grim nature of it, but the passenger himself. Gir had been friendly, reassuring—he didn’t care that Zaina was a heretic. Drel Ofrans did, and that bothered her.

I wonder whose opinion the Order shares more?

With a shake of her head, Zaina cast the thought aside. There was no point in dwelling on it now—if she was lucky, she’d find out. She turned her attention to the streets in front of her.

Far fewer people were out than normal; a thick layer of smoke obscured more of the sky than usual. An eerie, still silence had settled over Otmonzas. Ground transports carrying rubble, supplies, and materials for rebuilding scurried every which way. There was no music, no holographic ads—in their stead was a voice broadcasting information about the attack and advising residents to gather supplies from their local depots and seek shelter. Gun-toting androids marched up and down every empty sidewalk. As far as anyone knew it wasn’t over. The only other noises were the chimes of bells from atop the gargantuan churches dedicated to various religions. This was a city in mourning.

Zaina frowned. Guilt pooled in her chest, making her stomach sink. She had failed Otmonzas—she never should have gotten involved.

But even if I didn’t—her fingers curled into fists—I didn’t make a difference at all.

This place was foreign and strange to her, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever understand it. Part of her was filled with relief that she’d be able to leave.

Within an hour, Hobst’s cycle pulled up. Zaina gave a sheepish smile and hopped into the back compartment.

He turned and said, “Glad you’re okay. We’ll talk at the shop, all right?”

Zaina nodded. He had a way with words, this one. They zipped and dashed through the streets of Otmonzas, weaving their way through the cargo transits; she gripped the edges tightly enough to hold herself in place, but this time there was no panic. She leaned her head back and enjoyed the sensation of the wind flowing through her hair.

They came to a stop at Hobst’s shop, and Zaina followed him inside.

“Thank you,” she said. “I—I’m so sorry you had to go all that way—”

He raised a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I was meaning to talk to you, anyway.”

Zaina’s eyebrow rose. “What about?”

“The ship—your debt,” Hobst said. “Had a strange visitor in the shop before the SID beeped me. Human girl—weird hair. About your age. Said she was a friend of yours—didn’t get a name out of her. Sound familiar?”

Zaina’s heart stopped. Reida had been here? What did she want now? What had she done? Was this all a trap? She tried to act like nothing was wrong and said, “Yeah, sounds familiar.”

“She said something about owing you a favor. Paid off the repairs for your ship in full.”

Zaina blinked, then her jaw dropped. “Wait—what?”

“Yep. Asked how much it was, shoved it into my hands, and left. Seemed to be in a hurry.”

Zaina stared at the ground. Never in a million years did she imagine Reida would keep her word. Not that it changed anything—Zaina still didn’t want to see her ever again.

After what she put me—and these people—through, this is less than the least she could do.

He went on. “Being that your sole reason for staying is no longer in effect, it may be best to comply with your banishment in a timely manner. Once I put the repairs in as paid in the system, the SID’ll come knocking to see if you’re getting a move on.”

Zaina blushed. “You know about my banishment, huh?”

“The SID told me quite a bit.”

“You must think I’m—” She hung her head. “You must think I’m stupid, or evil, or both.”

Hobst chuckled. “No. You made a mistake. You were lied to, trusted the wrong people. But that’s okay. None of that makes you a bad person. And you’re not stupid, either—the years will give you wisdom, but they’ve yet to pass.”

Zaina surged forward and wrapped Hobst in a hug. He recoiled but didn’t fight too hard.

“Thanks,” she said, “for everything. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“Go live your best life,” he replied. “Not everyone gets to—so make the most of it. That’s all I ask.”

The embrace ended, and Hobst huffed. “Now, we should head over to Sister Tyza’s so you can pack your things. I think it’s time you got on your way.”

A half-smile formed on Zaina’s face—a glimmer of hope warmed her chest, some good to go with all the bad. She couldn’t have agreed more with Hobst’s words—it was time to leave Otmonzas forever.