Eli and Tarl walked down the boarding ramp.

  Tarl wore a simple vest, little more than an armor plate inserted into a fabric holder. He held a break action grenade launcher. A lever action camp carbine was slung across his back, but to him, it was a full-sized rifle.

  Eli wore a long, hooded grey cloak. The only thing that was visible were his scuffed-up jungle boots.

  The hangar was a simple, straight forward design. Rows of supports stretched across the length of the high ceiling. The back wall had a few blast doors that led deeper into the facility. At the top of this wall a control room jutted out.

  Several ships were parked off to one side. They looked like older models, sporting numerous repairs and modifications. One ship sat in a maintenance area. Damaged hull plates were in the process of being replaced. Two of them sported drills and heavy tractor beams. Another was loaded with several pieces of digging equipment.

  One craft hung from hoists. This ship had been stripped of all of its hull plates and many of its components. These had been placed around the half-dissected vessel in neat formations.

  Beings stood among a scattering of boxes and equipment. They were a light shade of tan; the skin had the texture of uncooked chicken. There was no visible front or back. They had eight arms, two sets with claws, and two sets with long fingered hands. The shape of the torso was difficult to make out with all of the appendages in the way.

  Walking on four legs, which looked strong, a few of them milled about. These legs branched out of their underside and curved upward on a joint, with a second joint directing them back toward the ground. They were each tipped with two-toed feet. All of them had holsters on several of their legs.

  The neck wasn’t visible, it was unclear if it even had one. The flat-topped head might have been directly connected to the top of the body. The edge was lined with formations of small, unblinking eyes. The shapes of these eye clusters differed for each individual. Between these formations, there were repulsive tubular protrusions, as if deep sea worms had attached themselves to a host.

  One of Tarl’s bodies spoke into the com, “Erarat, they are very dangerous. All of the sensory organs are in the head. They have two brains that work in tandem. The one in the head is all survival instincts and reproductive drive. Higher level awareness is handled by a mind located in the lower body.”

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  “Have you fought them before?” Gami asked.

  “No. I knew one that had himself decapitated. Did it so that he could live as a blind monk. Watch the legs, they can move lightning quick, and they’ve got retractable claws in their feet.”

  “Good going so far,” Gami reported. “I’ve worked my way up to the rafters. Got a good view of the bay. I don’t think they have any turrets set up. That ship looks like it’s being prepped for a stealth system.”

  “How many do you think there are?” Tarl asked.

  “About a dozen.”

  Eli was glad that the dorsal turret could lay down covering fire if it came to it. Unfortunately, the ventral gun was blocked by the boarding ramp, but that was a moot point when he considered the fact that those guns would run the risk of hitting him or Tarl if they were used in a firefight.

  Eli and Tarl stood watch while two of Tarl’s other bodies used pallet jacks to unload the cargo. Then the pair of Tarls ran back into the ship, where they would make a beeline for the cockpit to man the gun turrets. When this process was completed, Eli and Tarl stepped behind two skids that had been intentionally placed close to the ramp. These skids held sturdy pieces of equipment.

  One of the Erarat spoke, it was unclear where the noises came from on its body. Its eye clusters were triangular. His words sounded like the distorted electronic laughter of a cheap Halloween decoration, “My name is Hexul. We don’t see in the same spectrum as you. Which pallet has the blue tarp?”

  Silently cursing, Eli pointed to it. One of them walked over to the pallet he had indicated and pulled the tarp off. Plastic boxes were stacked up on the pallet. They bore the logo of a weapon’s manufacturer. They were held in place by no less than eight pieces of brightly colored plastic cable.

  “I guess that they do need weapons to survive out here,” Gami commented.

  “Alright,” Eli snarled, “If you’ll give us our payment, we’ll be on our way.”

  “What about ammunition, power cells?”

  “That wasn’t in the manifest.”

  “Without them, these weapons are useless,” Hexul said, the faux laughter filled with disdain.

  “Should have thought about that before. If you place another order, we’d be more than happy to bring it to you.”

  “Good. You will receive your payment when you bring it.”

  “That wasn’t a part of the deal.”

  “It is now.”

  “You want to play games, we’ll play games. Tarl, please start bringing everything back aboard.”

  Tarl didn’t get the chance. The leader let out a haunting sound, a burst of nightmarish chortling. The others drew weapons and took aim. He took position behind the cover of the skid. Pointing the grenade launcher at a high arch, he waited for Eli or Gami to make a move.

  Eli stepped behind his skid, dropping the cloak as he did so. Now they could see that he wore a heavy vest. Among the mag pouches there was a device which was covered in little lights. He kept his weapon pointed at the floor. It was some kind of rifle with a big barrel and a large banana mag.

  “You are outnumbered. Leave or die,” the Erarat with the triangle eye clusters demanded.

  “There’s one problem,” Eli said, placing his free hand on the device, “You see, the bindings on that pallet of weapons are actually det cord.”