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“How would you disappoint us?” Rachel asked. “You’ve already done more than we could ask for.”

  “Not with what I need to do,” Monty replied. “I know that I can do this. I mean with what you need to do. According to my calculations, we’re going to need to find more artifacts to complete this puzzle.”

  “And we’re ready to,” I said.

  But Monty shook his head. “A lot more, Mr. Flint.”

  Our holo call to Min Oragga from the bridge was more than just about Monty and the artifacts. As it turned out, when pressed, Oragga was willing to share about the rival faction that had hunted us back on Altan Four. But as he spoke, I couldn’t help feeling a lot of this information would have been helpful before we’d encountered Ozzie.

  “You’re telling us that was a syndicate hit team in Veradia?” I asked Oragga, hand pointing to an invisible Veradia somewhere behind me.

  “It was, yes,” he replied. “And quite serendipitously too. Had Oppenheimer succeeded in terminating you, the fact that another syndicate was after you would have obscured my involvement in the enterprise. According to Lars’s report, Oppenheimer already believed you were a rival syndicate, which means that this entire affair is nothing more than an underworld turf war.”

  I raised an eyebrow at the old coot. “And we should find that comforting?”

  “Not particularly,” he admitted. “We are talking about your deaths here. But since this overall mission is about keeping the quadrant safe—if not the entire galaxy—then I presume you understand the comment wasn’t personal.”

  “It’s always a matter of perspective, isn’t it?”

  “Quite so,” Oragga replied, adjusting his monocle. “Quite so.”

  “Can you at least tell us who was hunting us?” Rachel inquired.

  “Ironically, it was the very faction you were posing as.”

  I had to think back for a second. “The McBride Black?”

  “Precisely.”

  “So you’re telling me we escaped from one of the most powerful underworld factions in the quadrant on Veradia only to land in front of a former syndicate hitman on Meldorn, all in the name of hunting for these artifacts?”

  “The irony is striking, isn’t it?” Oragga asked with a smile.

  “Striking enough that I feel like we’ve just gotten mixed up in an intergalactic mafia conspiracy.” I rubbed my face.

  “I would be lying if I said you were in the clear, Mr. Flint.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, Min?”

  It was Rachel’s turn to make me feel uncomfortable. “It means our faces are probably on record both on Altan Four and on Meldorn.”

  “You’re saying the syndicates know us… and are after us,” I said.

  Oragga nodded.

  “So not only do we have a next to impossible mission, but now we have the most well-known—”

  “And ruthless,” Lars interjected.

  “The most well-known and ruthless—”

  “And well-funded.”

  “Godsdammit, Lars!”

  “I was merely trying to help paint the proverbial picture of what you’re up against, sir.”

  “I think we got it.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “Your reservations are noted, Mr. Reed,” Oragga said. “However, if it helps you, I had already factored in the presence of violent opposition when selecting you and Miss Fontaine for this endeavor.”

  “That’s supposed to help me feel better?”

  “The emotional fallout is for you to decide, Mr. Reed. I simply wanted you to know that, had I not felt you were up to the task, I would not have offered you the position.”

  “Damn, if I don’t feel a thousand percent better.”

  Lars was on that statement faster than I could protest. “Sir, the mathematical premise of one thousand percent is redundant by ten-fold.”

  “Shut up, Lars.”

  “For what it’s worth,” Oragga said, continuing as if he were used to Lars’s interjections—then again, Min probably never spoke as “creatively” as I did—“I would like to note that you have made two very valuable additions to your team, additions that will aid you in your pursuit of the remaining artifacts and your evasion of the McBride Black. Namely, Mr. Palmetier and the boy Monty.”

  Somehow, having a former alcoholic pilot and a genius ex-miner kid as assets against the quadrant’s most nefarious criminal organization didn’t exactly feel “valuable.” But I didn’t want to go on record as such in case it came back to bite me. Instead, I said, “Having an army would be a close second.”

  Oragga smiled at my joke. Surely he knew the odds were stacked against us. And a private army wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility, right?

  “Your best weapon at present is stealth,” Oragga said, “and remaining one step ahead of your enemies, which it seems like you’re doing well at.”

  “I wouldn’t call Veradia a step ahead.”

  “But you are still alive, Mr. Reed. And in my world, that’s what matters most. Just stay alive.”

  I rubbed a hand over my face again, trying to come to grips with just how much my life had changed since that one fateful shift back on Sellion City. “Stay alive,” I repeated. “Got it.”

  “So”—Oragga rubbed his hands together with an expression of deep interest—“where are you off to next?”

  “Well, I have a call in to an old associate,” Rachel said, waving her data pad.

  I looked over her shoulder and read the top of the contact file she’d pulled up. “Who’s Alphonse Malloy?”

  “Quit being so nosey, Flint,” she said, trying to push me away.

  Suddenly, my eyes caught sight of a list of “known locations,” and the top entry made my blood run cold. I stopped trying to look at the data pad and just stared at Rachel.

  “Are you okay, Mr. Reed?” Oragga asked.

  “Fine.” But I wasn’t fine.

  Rachel looked over at me, clearly annoyed. “Anyway, I hope he has some intel for us based on the next location on your list.”

  “Marvelous. Keep me apprised of your progress. And do me a favor: let me know how it goes with that young man, would you?”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Oragga,” Rachel said. Seeing that I was still staring her down, she ribbed me with her elbow.

  “Sorry. I got distracted there. We will…” I blinked at Oragga. “We will keep you updated on all of the things.”

  “Marvelous. And take care of each other, would you? It’s a big dark galaxy out there.”

  “Will do, Min,” Rachel replied. “Thanks.” Then the billionaire closed out the channel.

  As soon as the feed was cut, I turned to Rachel. “Who’s Alphonse, Rachel?”

  “I told you, he’s an old—”

  “Don’t bullshit me. I saw the top of the list of known locations.”

  Rachel showed the first hint of concern in a barely imperceptible twitch of an eyelid. “We worked together once,” she replied.

  “At the Red Tower?”

  Rachel froze, then said, “Dammit. You saw that.”

  “Yeah. Which only means one thing.”

  “I was gonna tell you—”

  “When?”

  “Eventually.”

  “So you didn’t think it was important that I knew you are a Constable?”

  “Was a Constable.”

  “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart.”

  “Listen, I know what you must be thinking right now—”

  “That I’ve slept with a Union spy? Twice?”

  “I’m not a Union spy, Flint.”

  “Then what the hells are you, Rachel? Or is that even your real name?”

  “It’s my real name.”

  “Really?”

  “Godsdammit, Flint!”

  “Well can you blame me?”

  “Constables aren’t what everyone thinks.”

  “Oh, so they’re just a nice flowery division of the Union who play card games and sip tea… while
covertly taking out government leaders with poison tipped… poisoned thingies?”

  Rachel smirked. “Do you hear yourself right now?”

  I was nodding at her, then slowly turned the movement into a shake of my head. “Well then give me something, would you? Because I really want to know that the woman I’m falling for hasn’t been playing me this whole time.”

  Rachel’s eyebrows arched. “Falling for?” She placed a hand on her chest. She seemed genuinely touched by the words, and I hadn’t even meant to say them. They just kinda tumbled out. “Is that what this is really about?”

  I looked away. Rachel stepped toward me and took my hands. “I’m falling for you too, Flint.”

  “How can I know that? You’ve been trained to convince people that—”

  Rachel leaned in and kissed me on the mouth. Hard. It was as passionate a kiss as I’d ever had. So much so that I lost my balance. We fell into the captain’s chair and almost toppled onto the floor.

  When she finally pulled away, she asked, “Do you know I’m serious now?”

  I blinked, then gave her a smirk. “I might need a little more convincing.”

  “Sure you do.”

  Rachel pressed herself off my chest but didn’t stand up right away. Instead, she curled into my lap. We sat there for a moment, me just holding her, before she said, “I was a Constable for ten years. It was a good career. A prestigious career. But I wanted out.”

  “Why?”

  She seemed to think about her reply before giving it. “When you start working for something as big as the Union, you think you’re in it for the people. You have all these idealistic hopes that you’re advancing the causes of good in the universe. And maybe you are. But as you get higher and higher, you find out things aren’t as black and white as they appear. The whole idea of the greater good starts to come with a lot of price tags that… well, that I didn’t want to keep paying.”

  “So you get out and became an assassin?”

  “Gods, Flint”—she punched me playfully—“would you drop the whole assassin bit?”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, I… I don’t know. At first I needed a break from it all. Needed to get out and clear my head. I’d done things that I…that I needed to get some distance from. But after a while, some of those idealistic dreams started to come back.”

  “And you figured you could do more good on your own than you ever did with the Union,” I offered.

  “Something like that. Only it turns out that the opportunities to do good are few and far between when you’re operating off the grid. And vigilantes have to eat just like everyone else.”

  “Thus Oragga’s comment about you taking any job as long as it pays well.”

  She wiggled a little. “I have my non-negotiables. But, in the end, the whole galaxy runs on credits, not good deeds.”

  “That’s a pretty pessimistic view, don’t you think?”

  “Call it what you want. But it’s where I’m at.”

  “And yet you clearly don’t believe it,” I said, giving her a stern look.

  “What do you mean I don’t believe it? You heard Oragga.”

  I shook my head. “Rachel, you just helped save a mine full of slaves. You even convinced me to take one on as crew!” That got her to smile a little. Still, she didn’t seem to buy it. “It seems we have a bit of a mutual challenge then.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I need to convince you that you’re capable of doing more good than you believe you are, and you’re going to need to convince me that you’re genuinely in love with me.”

  “I never claimed to be in love with you,” she said, putting a fist on her hip.

  “Sure you didn’t.”

  Deciding two could play at this game, I reached for my own data pad, stowed in the arm of my captain’s chair.

  “Watch’a reading there, champ?” Rachel asked me.

  “Look who’s being nosey now.”

  “I mean it. What are you reading?”

  “Eh, you wouldn’t like it.” I turned to keep her from looking around the side of my pad.

  “Cut it out, Flint. I’m serious.”

  But I kept moving the data pad, forcing her to get closer to my face. When she was finally off balance, I grabbed her and pulled her into another kiss. She let out a playful scream and then hit me. “You’re not reading anything, are you,” she said.

  “Am too. But I already told you, you won’t like it.”

  “Try me.”

  “It’s one of those trashy romance novels about knights and castles. You’d probably just write it off… say it’s pretty worthless.”

  “Worthless?” She faked a shocked expression. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure,” she said, putting her lips close to my ear. “They make for great research material, and Scarlett Mason has been dying to try some things out.”

  FLINT, RACHEL, LARS, and TINY will return in RESONANT FORTRESS, coming soon.

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  I can't explain how or why I get these feelings, only that I know they're true.

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