Valmoran Space, Anaris Station, Ring 88B Promenade

  Zephyr, Captain of the Shining Fate

  Zephyr whistled happily as he made his way down the promenade level of Ring 88B. His shine was turned up, and he wore his skin in his favorite shade, a deep brown, which offset the white shock of his hair in the most pleasing way.

  Far overhead, the vid screens on the ceiling projected a blue sky so convincing that he’d have almost sworn he was planetside. Colorful birds swooped through the air, and a chitterling darted out of a tree to snag some food someone had left on a bench.

  He grinned at the adorable little bio-engineered janitor.

  They should get a chitterling for the Shining Fate ...

  Hah, Fera would hate that. She never let him have pets on the ship.

  As he continued ambling spinward, the ground sloped gently up, and the centerline tram disappeared behind the ceiling. The sight was a dead giveaway that he was in a space station. Zeph tried not to examine it too closely.

  He’d been on Anaris Station hundreds of times, but his skin crawled whenever he imagined himself as a tiny bug pressed against the inside of a giant spinning ring. It made him feel trapped and insignificant.

  He turned up his shine a little more, smiling at the additional attention he drew from passersby. Not even the myriad VR overlays, flashy and ever-present on Anaris Station, could compete.

  Of course, none of the people nearby would have a clue that he was using his power on them. They would simply be more likely to notice him in a crowd.

  A woman walking in the opposite direction caught his attention as she moved in his direction. He switched off the advertisements on his Hix to get them out of his way so he could get a better look.

  She was one of those cybermod kids, a mod kit over one eye and a full silver replacement arm proudly on display.

  Cute, and a little rough around the edges in a way Zeph certainly approved of. The way her lithe body moved, with graceful intentionality, he imagined this one could hold her own in a fight.

  Unlike other cybermod kids, who wore faux combat gear for fashion rather than function, this pretty little monster was decked out in the real deal.

  The girl gave him a once over and flashed her eyebrows in approval. Too cool to smile, but definitely into him. This woman looked like 18 shades of trouble and—

  A voice rang out in his head.

  Fera: Just because we’re on Anaris Station doesn’t mean it’s safe. Stop being an attention-whore and try to blend in. We’re smugglers, for fuck’s sake. We have enemies, remember?

  He stopped in his tracks and glared at the fake sky in exasperation.

  Fera. The state-of-the-art AI he had liberated from an all-but-abandoned personal museum, even though she claimed it was her who did the rescuing. Though calling Fera an AI was like calling a supernova a ‘pretty light.’

  Usually, he enjoyed her snarky commentary, but sometimes, he wished he could be alone in his own head. Since she lived in an organic matrix in a secret hold of the Shining Fate, Zeph often served as her portal to the outside world. He didn’t have the heart to ask her to leave, except on the rarest occasions.

  Partly because she was his best friend. Also, when a sophont-level AI holds the keys to your accounts, manages your entire smuggling business, and knows your ship better than you, a smart man keeps her happy.

  Zeph: Fera, stop worrying. The birds are chirping, the crowds are smiling, and we just made enough to remodel the galley AND buy that upgraded memory module you’ve been eyeing.

  Fera needed to chill. He wasn’t even doing anything illegal right now.

  Well, probably. Zephyr didn’t actually know what was on the disc in his pocket. And there was the small matter of the highly illegal Threllian AI on his ship. Also, the contraband stashed on the Shining Fate in case they ever needed to barter ...

  Ok, so maybe he was doing some things of questionable legality, but he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

  Fera: An intelligent man would turn down his shine and make himself unnoticeable. Especially when he still has Nulma’s data delivery sitting in his pocket.

  She had a point. Annoying little brilliant AI. She sucked all the fun out of things with her whole ‘being right all the time’ thing.

  Zeph: Where’s the fun in that? I like people. I enjoy looking at them. I like it when they look at me.

  Fera didn’t answer.

  Zeph turned down his shine—not all the way like she wanted, because then he may as well be invisible—but to more normal levels. He could turn heads without using his power.

  That settled, he continued down the path towards the nearest tram station. Nulma’s was about a quarter of the way spinward from here, and he didn’t have hours to spare, so walking was not an option.

  He glanced around, trying to spot the cybermod girl who had so intrigued him. They had a moment back there ... he was sure of it, but she must have already moved on.

  Not that he had time to socialize. He huffed, annoyed that Fera was right again. Nulma had paid for an expedited personal courier for the encrypted data disc, and might even pay extra for early delivery. That thought brought a smile back to his face.

  Come to think of it, wasn’t Nulma the one who sometimes got worked up over little things like late deliveries? Zephyr picked up the pace, arriving at the riser just as the spinward tram pulled up. Lucky. Lady Fate was smiling down on him today.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  He took the riser to the tram level and boarded the train. It was busy today, but not overly so, and he was able to grab a seat near the back rather than stand for the ride.

  Artificial gravity did funny things on the trams—spinward made you feel heavier, antispinward lighter.

  The effect wasn’t too overt, but noticeable, like being pressed into your seat while feeling pulled backward as the train hit speed. Zephyr despised it, though he’d never admit it out loud. What sort of captain would he be if he had a meltdown over centrifugal gravity?

  He looked out the back of the car, watching as the promenade became a blur out the window. The awful sensation faded once they got up to speed, and he relaxed back into his seat.

  Fera: Better?

  Zeph: All good. Need me to pick anything up while I’m down here?

  They had a routine. Fera stocked the ship, negotiating with various merchants for the best deals. But there was always some price-gouging with shipside delivery, especially for luxury items.

  Fera: We’re all topped up on nutritional substrate, but the prices on flavor additives today are absurd, and we’re running low.

  Zeph: Got it—I’ll order some and have it sent to the Fate.

  His eyes wandered—and snagged on the cybermod girl from before! She was sitting on the other end of the tram. It was tempting to go sit across from her, but he would look ridiculous, lurching and swaying his way over there.

  It had to be fate, seeing her again.

  He’d been waiting, impatiently, for mating season to begin. The Shining Fate could crew seven, but it was only home to him and Fera. He wasn’t interested in taking on crew—it was just a four-letter word for people who end up selling you out—but a mate would be different. He was sure of it.

  Even with Fera’s homey touches, it could get lonely on the Fate. The ship was gorgeous, but achingly empty sometimes. Not that he ever told her that—it would just hurt her feelings.

  Fera: It’s that weird girl from before. Stop staring at her. It’s creepy.

  Zeph: She might be the one.

  Fera: Not this again—it’s not even mating season.

  The girl looked up and caught him staring at her. He flashed her his most winning smile. She smirked and nodded in his direction before looking away.

  Zeph: Out-of-cycle matings are possible—

  Fera: —and rare as fuck. And generally considered bad luck.

  Zeph: Lady Fate wouldn’t steer me wrong.

  Fera: You’re an idiot. That woman is tailing you.

  Could she be following him? If she was, it was because she felt it, too. Whatever this thing was between them. Excitement prickled down his spine.

  Wait. What if they got off at different stops, and Zephyr lost her?

  He should make his way over there, the motion of the tram be damned—his future mate wouldn’t care if he acted foolish on the day they met. It would just be a cute story they told the next generations. ‘I remember the day I met your father—he fell flat on his face trying to get to me on a public transport. That was the day I fell in love—’

  The transport slowed, and gravity weirdness ensued. Zephyr took a deep breath, shutting his eyes against the queasy feeling.

  Shoot, this was his stop!

  As he got up to leave the tram, he saw the girl was getting off there, too. But by the time he made it past the others on the platform, he had lost sight of her. Again. He whirled around, searching the bustling promenade.

  Fera: Focus, Zeph. You only have a few minutes to get to Nulma’s on time.

  He wanted to growl in frustration. But Fera was right. Again.

  Groaning, he turned toward Nulma’s Emporium and made a beeline for the entrance.

  A bell chimed as he entered the musty shop. Nulma’s always reeked of grease, dust, and general dankness, and Zeph always wondered what in the galaxy he was keeping in the back room to cause such an odor. It didn’t matter.

  Crossing to the tiny counter, Zeph reached into his pocket for the data disc, then presented it to Nulma with a flourish and a bow.

  “Well, well, well—we had a wager going, whether you would be late this time. Looks like I lost.” The old Zeltai’s scarred face pinched in what looked like a grimace, but was actually his version of a smile.

  “Hey—I’m not late that often!”

  Nulma scoffed and took the disc.

  Fera: You sort of are. Three of the last five times, Zeph.

  Zeph: Only by a minute or two.

  Fera: That’s why he picks you. You show up almost on time, and he can dock our pay, anyway.

  Nulma fished a handful of credit chips out of his pocket and held them out over the counter.

  When Zeph reached for them, he jerked his hand back, a sly glint in his violet eyes.

  “I may just have that information you asked for—about Vargus Trix.”

  Zeph’s ears perked up at that. He’d been trying for years to get an in with Vargus. They’d be set if he and Fera could find work smuggling hrelex next season.

  Hrelex were illegal and delicate and needed to be delivered discreetly. Each had to bond with its new owner within a tight window, or the entire growing cycle would have to be restarted.

  It was one of the most coveted smuggling jobs around. A lucrative job like this would bring in life-changing credits. More importantly, running the little murder-pets would finally cement him as a real smuggler in the eyes of his peers.

  “How much?”

  Nulma held up the chips and divided them in half.

  Fera: No, Zeph. That’s for the galley remodel. Besides, I’m not sold on working with Vargus.

  Zeph: This is our big break, Fera. We’ll make it up ten times over when running hrelex next season.

  Fera: We don’t have time for this. We have 14 crates of julee berries due on Ioria Prime—the client paid triple for rush delivery!

  “Deal.” Ignoring Fera, Zeph held his hand out to Nulma to retrieve the now smaller payment. “How do we get a meeting with Vargus?”

  Nulma pocketed the other chips, then leaned over the counter. “He’s opening a new club tomorrow—fights, gambling, sex, drugs—just like his places on Ioria Prime, but more classy-like for the tourists. The grand opening is tomorrow night, right over in Sector 73.”

  Zeph scowled. “What am I supposed to do? Just walk up to him and say hello?” As if he hadn’t tried to track Vargus down in one of his clubs a dozen times already. No one got close to Vargus Trix without Vargus’s say-so.

  Nulma waved off the comment. “No, no, no—you have to know his weakness. He has a penchant for beautiful women—the more exotic and seductive, the better. You show up with a rare beauty on your arm, and he’ll take notice. Then you tell his people Nulma sends his regards.”

  An endorsement from Nulma? This might work.

  “Just don’t fuck it up. You’re cashing in on my good name, don’t make me regret it. And bring some muscle to look important-like.”

  Zeph was practically skipping when he left Nulma’s. Lady Fate was smiling down on him today. He knew exactly who he needed in order to pull this off. The Black Swirl was just a few minutes’ walk. He took off in that direction, heady with anticipation.

  He could almost taste the money and fame this new job would bring him.

  Fera: Absolutely not. It’s dangerous for her to be seen with you, Zeph, and you know it. And if we jeopardize Braxtor’s cover, you-know-who will be pissed. It’s bad enough that you set him up guarding a woman you stole from Ioria Prime.

  Zeph didn’t slow his steps. He hadn’t been so sure of himself in ... well, a few days, at least. He had a really good feeling about this.

  Zeph: I’m just gonna swing by—if they’re not interested, I’ll head back to the Fate, and we’ll leave.

  This was it. No more listening to other smugglers snicker about how he was just a rich boy playing at being a captain. Hrelex runs required finesse.

  Fera: What about the julee berries? If we stay another night, we’ll be late.

  Zeph: If we take a space fold instead of the gates, we have plenty of time.

  Fera: And no profits!

  Zeph: We’re just going to check in with them. If they aren’t interested in the job, we’ll leave. See? Now, it’s up to Lady Fate.

  He crossed under the sky tram, passing the stalls that blanketed the center of the promenade this time of day. He ignored the various vendors who called out, peddling food and baubles for the tourists.

  Fera: I don’t like it.

  That was as close to a ‘yes’ as he was going to get. Triumph surged through him as his eyes locked on the sign outside The Black Swirl. He barreled forward with a single-minded focus and reached out for the door—

  “Captain Zephyr, fancy meeting you here,” a voice purred from his left.

  Zeph nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to find the owner of the sultry voice lounging against the front wall of The Black Swirl Bordello. He blinked. It was the cybermod girl, his dream girl. In the flesh, talking to him.

  Wait.

  How did she know his name?