Gravel leaned forward, crossing his arms, and laughed. The kind one would do when laughing at their own joke. “Listen here, buddy, I don’t know what kind of amateur hour operation you’re running, but I’ll tell you right now—you’ve got the wrong ship. We’re just humble, humble traders. Honest workers. Salt-of-the-stars types. Our cargo hold? Nothing but ethically sourced mining equipment, legally obtained from our supplier, Kestris-7 Corp. And you know what? I’d love to share the paperwork, but—oh no—our manifest records got wiped in a tragic, unforeseeable data malfunction caused by—” he snapped his fingers, “—solar interference.”

  Hunter slowly turned her head, staring at him. Priest, already working the console, didn’t look up.

  “You—” the voice from the other side was immediately interrupted.

  Gravel continued. “Now, if you’re thinking, ‘Wow, that’s convenient,’ you’d be right! But if you had access to the latest Stellar Safety Journal, which is real and highly-respected by the way, you’d know that solar anomalies wipe flight records all the time. It’s an epidemic. Terrible, really. You should be thanking us for spreading awareness.”

  The comm stayed silent. Gravel smirked, pleased with himself.

  Then the voice came through. “Shut the fuck up now.”

  “Wow. And I thought I was the rude one,” Gravel said.

  Hunter sighed into her hand.

  While Gravel’s nonsense filled the airwaves, Sloan leaned closer to Priest, keeping her voice low. “Did he come for that drive you have?”

  “Most likely,” Priest replied.

  “How in the void does he know?”

  Priest didn’t answer, instead initiated a quiet scan across open channels. He wasn’t picking up any external data leaks, no transmissions flagged with their ship’s identifier. Only then did he say, “He shouldn’t.”

  Sloan narrowed her eyes. “Then do you trust that associate of yours, Vanje, to keep his mouth shut?”

  Priest’s visor whitened for a second as he processed that. Then, casually, “No.”

  Sloan let out a slow breath.

  Gravel was still going. “And in conclusion, good sir, I’d recommend you get your scanner checked, because whoever told you we have something you want was clearly playing a prank on you, and personally, I’d be pissed.”

  The stranger ignored him completely. “I’m looking for Vanje. I know you know him, Gravel.”

  The crew turned as one, staring at Gravel.

  Gravel, for his part, blinked. “Huh.”

  A half-second later, he composed himself, straightening his jacket and smirking. “Well, well, well. Look at that. Didn’t know I had fans.” He tapped his fingers against the console. “Am I trending? Hot Search list? Number one, maybe? No, don’t tell me—I wanna be surprised.”

  Hunter muttered, “Why are you like this?”

  The voice on the other end did not share Gravel’s amusement. “Where. Is. Vanje.”

  Gravel waved a hand. “Hey, hey, we’ll get there. I just need to know. Am I above or below Captain Stellar’s engagement scandal? Because if I’m losing to that hack, I’m gonna be real disappointed in this galaxy.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Priest sighed. “Gravel, focus.”

  Gravel leaned back in his seat, propping his boots up on the console like they weren’t currently being hunted by an unknown party. “Alright, fine. You wanna talk Vanje? Let’s talk Vanje. What exactly does that slippery bastard owe you? Credits? A ship? A sabertooth tiger?”

  The stranger’s voice sharpened. “That’s between me and him.”

  Gravel clapped his hands. “Oh, see, I love when people say that. So I’m supposed to give you info but you’re free of that responsibility.”

  Fang, still at the controls, cleared her throat. “Uh, boss? Should we maybe stop antagonizing the guy actively charging weapons?”

  Gravel exhaled. “Fine, fine. If this is about a bounty, we’ll need to see proof, proper documentation, you know, all the legal nonsense.” He paused, then grinned. “Oh, wait! You’re not a bounty hunter, are you? No official tags, no IDs . . . just a guy who’s real interested in Vanje. Now, that’s interesting.”

  The stranger’s voice remained calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it now. “I’m told you’re real chatty. The reputation’s right. So let me say this in a way that gets into your head.”

  A brief pause. Then—

  “Three McPherson ships are looking for you right now.”

  Silence.

  Hunter’s head snapped toward Priest, who was already pulling up their sensor readouts. A few seconds later, his visor flickered with new data.

  “He’s not bluffing,” he muttered.

  Fang’s fingers flew over the console. “Confirming—three heavy-class cruisers, running wide-range sweeps. Not locked onto us yet, but if they tighten their scans, we’re toast.”

  “Three heavy-class cruisers. I have a feeling they’re paying a lot more under-the-table on top of the official bounty,” Hunter shrugged.

  Priest let out a sharp breath. “We’ll have a five-minute window at best before they lock us down.”

  Sloan crossed her arms. “Five minutes? That’s generous. Last time I was in a McPherson lockdown zone, they cut off every outbound ship in three. And that was before they upgraded their sensor grids.”

  Gravel took a slow breath, tapping his fingers against his armrest. “Right. So.” He cleared his throat. “When you say ‘looking for us’—”

  The stranger cut in. “I mean exactly that. Unless you feel like finding out how fast McPherson can ground you and drag your crew in, you’ll want to listen.”

  Gravel leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Should’ve opened with this, man. Then what? You just happen to be our guardian angel, swooping in with a deal?”

  “You can think of it that way.” There was something almost amused in the stranger’s tone now. “Don’t ask questions, and I’ll give you my firepower. You get rid of my problem, I help you avoid yours.”

  Gravel scoffed, leaning back again. “I dunno, see, I have so many questions.”

  Hunter shot him a sharp look. “Not now, brick-for-brains.”

  Priest’s visor flashed red. “One of the McPherson ships just changed vector. They are running an active ping.”

  Gravel rubbed his temple. “Great. Love that for us.” He exhaled and turned his attention back to the comm. “Alright, pal, let’s say for a hypothetical second that we’re interested. What’s the catch?”

  The stranger’s reply was immediate.

  “No catch. You tell me where Vanje is. That’s it.”

  Gravel squinted at the comms panel. “Yeah. See, the thing about that is—I don’t like how fast you answered.”

  The stranger chuckled. “Take it or leave it, Captain.”

  Fang turned in her seat, looking at Gravel. “Boss, we’re on a clock.”

  Gravel exhaled through his nose. “Hate this.” He then groaned, dragging a hand down his face before pointing at the comms panel. “Fine. You got yourself a deal—conditionally.”

  He jabbed a finger toward the speaker. “I’m shooting you down too if you’re screwing me.”

  Before unmuting, he turned to the others and muttered, “This is why I hate dealing with professionals.”