“These massive public works projects, taking mind-boggling amounts of resources from worlds in an attempt to terraform constructed worlds, have resulted in the creation of jobs, yes. That is not in dispute. The question is, whether a billion or a trillion jobs are created in this line of work, what is really being accomplished by the work itself?”

—Tobiese Gornam, political activist

The human male stepped forward and said, “If you all wouldn’t mind, I’m very busy—can we get this over with?”

Ondor shook his head, then said, “Very well, then. Ardual, I’ll leave the introductions to you.”

The Jovelian nodded and gestured toward the woman. “This is Veimla Tescoll, but we call her Deadeye. She’s got a chip in her brain that makes it awfully hard for her to miss—and makes her terrible at warning shots, doesn’t it, darling?”

Veimla smiled. “Yes, sir.”

“And this,” the Jovelian waved toward the human, “is Fredan Lobiox. Goes by Spiderpede. That suit on his back is his own design, and it can rip the arm off a Raolgrian with zero effort. He just needs to work on his inter-personal skills.”

Without skipping a beat, Fredan asked, “Can I get back to my baby now?”

The Jovelian rolled his eyes, sighed, and gave a nod. Then, he straightened up and said, “And I am Ardual, three-hundred and ninety-first to carry the family title; you may see I hail from Jovelos, where I earned my name: Dreich-master. I am a captain in the Derin Bas Mercenary Guild—as are my two associates.”

“Seems like you’re in charge, though,” Xyrthe said.

“I am,” Ardual replied. “I was given command of this detail by my lieutenant. Perhaps he knew of its importance—I’ve never failed a mission, and I refuse to fail this one.”

Ondor cleared his throat. Then, in a low voice, he said, “I’m sure you’re wondering why they’re here. This is my backup plan. If you are unable to deal with Fell, I will have no choice but to use my last resort.”

“They’re heretics,” Veimla said, her eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. “Are you sure we can trust them?”

Ardual leaned back and emitted a deep, throaty chuckle. “Heretic, lancer—what’s it matter? They’re puny, anyway. Besides, I’m not the one paying them to be here.”

Xyrthe turned toward Ardual and said in a serious voice, “No one is paying us to be here.”

The Jovelian’s laugh intensified. Once he’d calmed, he said, “That’s right—you don’t even get paid by the Order, do you? They make your way for everything. Can’t imagine that, working for room and board. Me, I’ve always had an eye for rebu and a taste for the exquisite in life.”

Crossing her arms, Xyrthe shot back, “It’s not like you could be a lancer if you wanted, anyway.”

“Ha!” Ardual said. “I like this one. I have a feeling you’re going to do great.”

Xyrthe grumbled something under her breath. Again, Zaina was forced to be the adult of the two. She stepped forward and said, “So, anything we should know?”

Ardual scratched his head and said, “We’ve got a few transports if you want one; desert riders with a little extra charge in the engines. You want to close fast, you need speed—you’ll need that and some luck if you don’t want to get blown away before you even see Fell.”

After a sigh, Xyrthe said, “And here I was, thinking this wasn’t a straight-up assassination.”

Veimla shrugged. “He’s got long-range firepower. Not just scraps, either. If you want to brave all that to get in earshot of him, be our guest. Then we do things our way.”

“Right,” Xyrthe said. “Zaina, I think we’ve heard enough, right? You still want to do this?”

Without hesitation, Zaina turned to her mentor and nodded, staring into her eyes.

A dour expression came over Xyrthe’s face. “Well, I think we know everything we need. Where’s that transport?”

Ondor clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! I’ll lead the way!”

Ardual returned to sitting down, leaning back against a wall to rest; Veimla kept her eyes trained on Zaina and Xyrthe as she pulled up her vis-screen. Zaina shrugged and followed the chairman.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Leaning close to Xyrthe, she said, “You think something’s fishy here?”

Xyrthe glared and hissed, “Not here.”

They made their way back down the series of walkways comprising Archavo Outpost, descending to the other side of the facility; there they came upon a harbor of sorts attached to the outer wall. Inside were long, flat desert riders with massive engines strapped to their back. Whatever railways were left on the sides were rusted to hell. Aside from that, two terrestrial fighters were docked adjacent to one another with two tattooed human women standing beside them. Each wore a black pilot suit and held a helmet by their side.

Ondor pointed and said, “That’s Gronda and Qendil, two of the fiercest pilots in the Nova Rim. I have them on retainer as well in case things go astray.”

One of the pilots stared Zaina down and spat. In a low voice, Zaina said, “I take it they’re not keen on introductions.”

“You could certainly say that. Now, let’s get you into one of these riders.”

The desert rider’s bodies were mounted atop a set of three ten-foot poles atop elongated feet to aid in maneuvering through the shifting sands; a ladder dropped from the center of the body.

Ondor rubbed his hands together. “They’re not much, I’m afraid, but what with my limited budget and all—”

Xyrthe frowned. “Well, Zaina? What do you think? Awfully exposed to gunfire, don’t you think?”

Zaina’s eyebrow rose. “What, you think we should walk?”

Xyrthe’s lips pulled into a taut frown—her thinking face. Zaina tapped her toes against the ground waiting for an answer.

Then, a half-smile crossed Xyrthe’s lips. Zaina knew that face, too—her mentor had an idea, and it was better not to ask about it here. With a resigned sigh, Zaina climbed up the ladder of the desert rider.

Without checking to see if Xyrthe had joined, Zaina walked over to the control panel near central starboard atop the ship’s long frame; the buttons and levers appeared ancient. Several quick-fixes over the years had clearly added up to quite a bit of needed repair work—panels were missing, with wires rerouted and tucked into other panels; some of the dashboard’s lever casings were held together with adhesive strips, and more than a few icons and dials were glued to their homes.

Zaina sighed. Even if it had been working perfectly, she still had no idea how to operate it. Her mentor strolled over with a smirk. “Need some help there, commando?”

Though she hated giving Xyrthe this, there was little choice in the matter. “Yes, please.”

Xyrthe shrugged. “Well, I don’t know how to run one of these. Looks like I’ll have to bust out Chimara.”

Zaina scoffed and crossed her arms. Xyrthe reached around to her back, under her TAC-shawl, and retrieved her glyph—lovingly nicknamed Chimara, meaning ‘beautiful,’ in Xyrthe’s native tongue.

“You and this thing,” Zaina muttered.

“Hey!” Xyrthe said, turning to jam a finger in Zaina’s face. “You don’t speak on Chimara. Understand? She’s got seniority on you.”

Zaina gave a deep, heaving sigh. “You like that thing more than me.”

“There you go, kid, now you’re starting to get it.” Xyrthe turned to Chimara and pushed a button. The glyph gave a smooth, whirring hum and whizzed to life, beeping giddily. Chimara floated out of Xyrthe’s open palms and into the air with a happy chirp.

“Greetings, Xyrthe! How can I be of assistance to you today?”

With a stupid grin on her face, Xyrthe replied, “Chimara, can you please plug into this ancient dashboard and analyze its systems, see if you can’t get it going?”

The glyph emitted a pleasant beep and said, “Anything for you, Xyrthe!”

Zaina scowled at the little glyph, floating around all happy. Xyrthe labored over her AI companion, customizing ‘her’ (as Xyrthe insisted Chimara be referred to as a girl at all times) so that her settings were finely tuned with Xyrthe’s moods. If she spent half as much time training Zaina as she did programming her stupid glyph, Zaina would be a High Lancer by now.

The glyph hovered near the dashboard. “Hello, Miss Zaina. May I please ask that you step aside thirteen inches? The port I need to access is right behind you!”

Zaina grumbled and stormed away, leaving Xyrthe to dote on the glyph. The desert rider’s engines roared to life, then fell to a low hum. A massive door on the harbor’s wall-side creaked and groaned as it slowly opened.

Chimara beeped and said, “This Machraton Model D-4 is capable of several speeds, as well as an illegally implemented high-speed function involving the turbo engines. How would you like to proceed?”

Xyrthe smiled and said, “Low speed ought to do it for now. We’ll conserve the fancy stuff in case we need it. Thank you, Chimara.”

“Anything for you, Xyrthe! Awaiting the bay door now.”

“Hey!” Ondor called from below. Zaina peered over the edge of the desert rider.

The chairman continued, “Be well, and proceed with caution! If ever there was pure evil, Reister Fell is its name!”

Zaina waved goodbye as the rider lurched forward. The door opened to a desert sea, and the transport’s elongated feet instantly sank into the dunes, giving Zaina a start; her hands gripped the railing so hard she tore a piece of the rusting metal clean off. With a grunt, she tossed it aside and sat down as the rider evened out, the poles halfway submerged in sand.

“Biome entry sequence completed,” Chimara chirped. “Now accelerating to directed speed.”

“Thank you,” Xyrthe said, then turned to approach Zaina as the glyph reprised its signature phrase.

Xyrthe sat down and clapped her on the shoulder. “Exactly like you wanted, right? Now, let’s kill this bastard and be done with it.”

“I mean—” Zaina said, then cut herself off with a grunt.

“Hmm?”

“It’s nothing.”

Xyrthe shook her head. “No, out with it. Come on.”

“I—it doesn’t have to come to end like that, right? I mean, there are more ways to bring a bad person to justice than killing them. Maybe we can capture him, turn him in.”

Xyrthe laughed. Warmth flushed into Zaina’s cheeks.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re hopelessly optimistic, you know that?”

Zaina didn’t know how to respond.

Xyrthe continued, “I mean, look, I get it. You’re new. But take it from my experience—these things always get ugly. Are you ready for that?”

Without hesitation, Zaina answered, “I am.”

Xyrthe turned away. “All right, rook. We’ll see.”

A sharp, resolute breath rushed from Zaina’s nostrils as she nodded. Then she turned her attention to the desert hills passing by. Aside from the fortress behind them, there was nothing in sight.

Her lips pulled into a frown. I guess we have a ways to go.