“I’m afraid the rebels have developed more ruthless tactics as a result of losing ground in the reclamation effort. Our captured are returning to us mutilated beyond recognition, except for their AM ticket. The coroner’s reports have given me night terrors for the past two months. They know they can’t stop us, so they’re doing every damn thing they can to hurt anyone they can get their hands on.”

—Mercenary Captain Ragnus Velk, in vis-correspondence with Chairwoman Illiatar Pratum, in relation to surface marauders on a planet set for resource acquisition

Zaina leaned over the edge of the desert rider as its skis glided through the sands below. Chimara was beeping happily as she steered the transport, and Xyrthe was leaned back against the control dashboard with her eyes closed.

Zaina’s mentor reached toward her glyph. “Let me know when we’re about ten more miles out, all right?”

Turning toward Xyrthe, Zaina asked, “So why do you hate them—”

“Not now,” Xyrthe said curtly. A frown came over Zaina’s lips, but she didn’t say a word. Frustration and anger were boiling in her chest. Why did her mentor always have to be so difficult?

A deep sigh came from Xyrthe, who asked, “All right, kid—what gives? Why is this so important to you?”

Zaina wrapped her arms around her knees and curled up. “I—I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Really? That’s a shit answer.”

Staring at the ground, Zaina replied, “When I first met Gir, and found out I could be like him, I thought it meant I’d be a hero.”

Xyrthe scoffed. “Not likely with the mark.”

“Oh, whatever. Look, I want to do work that matters. I want to help people, make the galaxy a safer and fairer place. If I have to kill anyone, I want to make sure it’s someone the Nova Rim is better off without. And this guy—Reister Fell—it sounds like he’s a pretty bad person.”

A contemplative frown settled over Xyrthe’s face. Then, she stared into Zaina’s eyes and said, “So if we get rid of all the right people, the Nova Rim will be better off?”

Zaina scowled. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Pulling her legs closer to her chest, she said, “I want what I do to leave the galaxy better off. To be—you know, heroic.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“Heroic, huh?” Xyrthe asked. “A word of advice about the job, kid: it’s only heroic until you do it. Trust me, I’ve been there. I’ve killed some really, really bad people. And when I was done, it was me standing there covered in their blood. All those shitty feelings I had were still right there inside me; and every evil thing they’d done still happened. The galaxy still saw me as an outsider. It didn’t change a thing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not like you,” Zaina said.

“No, you’re not,” Xyrthe replied in a low, sorrowful tone. “Let me give you a tip: don’t expect any catharsis out of anything that happens here. You’re not gonna find enlightenment, or be fulfilled, or even feel better after this is all said and done. You’re better off turning off the tap. Do what you’re told, and don’t be too invested in it. The more invested you get, the more you open yourself up.”

“To what?”

Xyrthe glared. “Well, if you get too invested, you might overlook something—a detail that comes back to bite you in the ass; or you might trust someone you shouldn’t, thinking they’re a good person; or you might not be able to do what needs doing when the time comes. You could get overly emotional, attached to some aspect of the mission. And if shit goes wrong, being invested just means getting hurt more. Trust me, kid. If you don’t pre-learn this lesson, life’ll beat it into you. It’s especially true for us. There’s never gonna be a parade. Never a moment where the galaxy stands up and recognizes us for killing the right people the right way or apologizes for what we’ve lost, what we’ve been forced to endure. We live, we do our jobs, we die. That’s all there is to it as far as they’re concerned.”

“You’re awfully talkative,” Zaina said. “I thought we couldn’t trust these guys.”

“We can’t,” Xyrthe said, then turned to face her glyph. “Hey, Chimara, would you please run a scan on our current trajectory?”

“Right away, Xyrthe!” the glyph chirped. “It appears there are two separate concentrations of life-forms—one with sixty-seven, and one with nine; the smaller group is closer. Neither is on our direct trajectory, but a slight correction to course will allow us to meet with either. Would you like to encounter either group?”

Zaina leaned toward them and said, “Ondor said Fell has h—”

“Hey, now,” Xyrthe interrupted. “Don’t be rude. Chimara has grown accustomed to a certain level of decorum. Thank you, Chimara.”

The glyph chirped with happiness. “Anything for you, Xyrthe!”

She then gestured toward Zaina. “All right, now go.”

Now glaring, Zaina said between gritted teeth, “Fell has hostages. He’s probably with the bigger group, right?”

Xyrthe rubbed her chin. “Right. Which means the other group is probably some kind of screening force.”

“So we should go for the bigger group,” Zaina said. “Take Fell on directly—”

Xyrthe shook her head. “I don’t think it’s smart to leave those nine out here, rook. If they’re working with Fell, he’ll recall them as soon as he’s attacked. And fighting at range in two directions is usually a no-go for us.”

Frustration tied knots in Zaina’s chest, her lips pulling into a frown as she pondered how to approach the situation.

Chimara’s cheery voice carved through the silence. “Xyrthe, we’ve now travelled ten miles!”

“Excellent—bring us to a halt,” Xyrthe said.

Zaina’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “A halt—what are we doing?”

“We’re stopping for a minute.”

“Why?”

“I’m hungry.”

Crossing her arms, Zaina asked, “We’re stopping because you’re hungry?”

Xyrthe gestured around them. “Do you see a place to start a fire up here?”

“Pretty lame excuse, if you ask me,” Zaina muttered to herself, wondering what her mentor was up to.