The Long Goodbye

The Long Goodbye was created using assets, imagery, and concepts from Elite Dangerous, with the permission of
Frontier Developments plc, for non-commercial purposes. It is not endorsed by nor reflects the views or opinions of Frontier
Developments and no employee of Frontier Developments was involved in the making of it. The Long Goodbye should not be
considered to be Frontier Developments-endorsed canon.

PROLOGUE

The woman was barely conscious, saturated as she was with cheap whiskey and expensive
onionhead. A half-smoked joint barely remained in place between a pair of trembling fingers, the last of
her fine motor skills channeled into holding it against her lips for a delicate inhale.

Even Kyndi Jane McCaskill’s long-accustomed body could only handle so much abuse, and it was
with a suddenness that her stomach cramped and emptied itself of its contents. The woman doubled over,
vomiting forth an entire day’s drinking on her bunk, the putrid mess running down to the deck. It was the
most she’d moved all day, the unpleasant act nudging her thoughts closer to the coherent.

She was running from what she had to do, and she knew it. Her last shreds of rational thought
twisted themselves into self-depreciation. With no one around for whom to put on cocky airs, she was free
to wallow in her fear and trepidation.

I’ve spent so long searching, she thought. So long, and so many credits invested, and so many
dead leads- and now that I’ve got one, I’m trying to kill myself with booze and herb. Figures.

The woman wiped her lips with the back of her hand and spat the last of the bile from her mouth.
Dark purple hair clung to the side of her face, clumped together in sweat and grease. She hadn’t worked
since receiving the news, telling herself that she’d set down on an uninhabited planet to clear her head.

What ended up happening was a week-long bender, smoking and drinking her entire stash of
booze and onionhead. The harder drugs had been consumed almost immediately, and since then she’d
been at war with sobriety itself.

But it was a war destined to be lost, if for no other reason than because she was running out of
both narcotics and excuses. The mess around her could wait- she was in need of help. Help getting clean,
and help from a friend. Cleanliness came first. Nearly falling off her bunk, the woman crawled to the
shower unit, sitting on its floor fully clothed and barely reaching the controls.

The initial blast was a shock- but then, it was supposed to be. Cold water soaked her skin and her
clothes, the week’s accumulated grease washing out of her hair. For a long time, she simply sat there,
letting the water do the job of clearing her head. In time, she would sober up and set right the mess she’d
made of her surroundings. But that was the easy part.

Kyndi was in for a journey, and she’d need a companion. She’d need a friend. She’d need
someone who was quick to action and slow to judge. Someone she could trust. A list of half-remembered
contacts formed in her drug-addled mind, with several names coming close before finally being
discarded. In the end, there was only one choice- and she didn’t know if he was dead or alive. A weak
smile curled one side of her mouth.

No, she thought. He’s alive. And if he isn’t- I’m going to kill him!

CHAPTER ONE

The celebration consumed the entire bar, the patrons cavorting and singing to their heart’s
content. Booze and credits flowed freely, tabs forgotten about and bartenders barely able to keep up with
the demand. It was an occasion that might normally have spelled disaster for management- but today, the
occasion was anything but normal.

Grinning from ear-to-ear and sat in the middle of a booth was a man, of medium build with dark
hair that fell over his forehead. He was tall for a pilot, with stubble along his jaw and a leather jacket
around his torso. A gleaming new palladium wing logo adorned the short, erect collar that ringed his
neck. It was a rare and respected symbol, one that he’d spent the better part of a decade working toward.

But the locals who surrounded him in celebration weren’t so concerned about that as they were
with what he’d done to earn it. Raj Khalifa had been a notorious pirate, hesitating not at all to open fire if
the loot wasn’t to his liking. He was a terrorist and a murderer to boot, always giving the slip to local
Authority after destroying a hapless trader and scooping what remained of the cargo. For a long time, the
denizens of Amy-Charlotte had been terrorized, afraid to travel even in intra-system shuttles.

In the end, the man’s deadliness was his downfall. One of his victims had been a returning
explorer, a woman in good standing with the famous guild. She’d had nothing in her hold except repair
limpets, and nothing of value except exploration data. In a blind fury, Raj reduced her Asp to scrap- and
earned himself a Pilot’s Federation bounty in the process. He had graduated into the big leagues, and the
big leagues in turn came after him.

Matthew Victor Lehman had been the nearest hunter when the notice was posted on the local
board. Raj’s million credit bounty was too much for him to pass up. He configured his Fer-de-Lance- a
Saud-Kruger death yacht named the I​ nevitable Betrayal-​ for a hard slog and set off. Khalifa was the
captain of an Anaconda- originally a bulk hauler but bristling with weapons once in his hands. Now he
was space dust, with both the bounty and the Pilot’s Federation’s highest honor conferred upon the man
who dispatched him.

The amount credited to Lehman had been the million from the Pilot’s Federation, plus numerous
lesser bounties that Raj had accrued along the way. It was a small fortune, and the man had opted to
celebrate in the only way he knew- with copious amounts of alcohol for himself and the locals, both he
and the people he’d helped convivially insisting that they buy the drinks for the other.

It was into this environment that Kyndi Jane McCaskill sauntered, one hip shifting beside the
other as she strode past the inebriated throng. Eyes rose from drinks and settled on slim curves and purple
hair, watching as she made her way to the bartender.

“So where’s the man of the hour?”
A curious look crossed the man’s face, pausing in-between pouring drinks. It was clear where the
party’s focus was, in the distance where the crowd was gathered.
“See for yourself. You know him or something?”
One side of the woman’s mouth curled into a smirk as she leaned in. “We’ve had a few run-ins.
What’ll it take to clear out this crowd and pull him out of here?”
The man shrugged, rolling his eyes. “At this point? Running out of booze. And even then I’m not
sure. He’s, uh... moved on to telling stories.”
Kyndi straightened herself, frowning. “Then he really i​ s​ celebrating. Thanks.”

Without another word, the woman flipped a credit chip the man’s way and turned away, doing her
best to make it through the crowd. Behind her, she heard his voice.

“Hey, uh- he might have been talking about you.”
The woman turned, the man’s image reflected in her eye shields. “Oh?”
The bartender opened and closed his mouth. “Yeah. When he was alone, before he started hitting
it heavy. He was actually kinda sad, you know? Just mentioned something about ‘wishing that she was
here’. That, uh- that wasn’t you, was it?”
That​ gave the woman a moment of pause. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Alright, Kyndi Jane- you can do this. You can ask for help. He owes you one, anyway.
Before the woman was the man with whom she’d flown and adventured, having both lived life to
the fullest and nearly died. There had been a time when he’d been just another rube to be used and thrown
away. He’d fallen easily enough for her, some well-fitting trousers and a batted eye having their usual
effect. But the job had gone sour, and even though she’d left him stranded and alone, they’d ended up
depending on each other to see it through.
And now here he is, at his own little party. Guess these folks must have hated whoever had to bite
it for him to cash his latest paycheck.
On either side of him was a young woman, pretty and airheaded and f​ ascinated​ with whatever
half-remembered details of adventures past he was telling. So too had a crowd gathered around his booth,
paying rapt attention to a ​bona fide​ hunter telling ​bona fide​ stories about the life. To them, members of the
Pilot’s Federation were more like characters from a holovid than real people, icons in the popular
imagination that one only read about on the news. They were noble and dangerous, rogues and heroes-
and here was one in the flesh who had just dispatched a dangerous menace.
The woman’s mouth lifted as stayed concealed behind a tall pair of broad shoulders, just beyond
the man’s sight. He was telling the details- with some omissions- about the time he’d had in Utopian
space, when he’d been more or less forced to work with them in order to rescue a friend. She smiled in
private amusement when he got to the part about his friend smuggling herself into her own ship.
The older a story is, the better it gets…
The woman emerged from the crowd, directly before the man. Leaning on either shoulder were
the young women, their eyes filled with idiotic hero-worship of the handsome man who was basking in
the attention. Before him was a half-drank glass of amber liquid, and on his face was the same roguish
grin that she’d come to expect.
Their eyes met, and for a long moment the man was dumbstruck. The crowd around him grew
quiet, waiting for the next line of his story. He opened and closed his mouth, trying and failing to summon
words. The look on his face at seeing her was indescribable.

Kyndi put her hands on her hips and turned to address the crowd behind her. “And then the
woman gave the choir girl a knuckle sandwich nap, outflew some pursuing Utopians and stripped their
weapons to fulfill the contract. They both got paid and lived happily ever after. The end.”

Slowly, a smile spread across the man’s face. Eyes darted back and forth between him and the
saucy newcomer, whispers filling the room. Matt leaned forward, freeing himself from the vacant-eyed
women on either side.

“Reckon I must have told this one before.”
The woman smiled her Kyndi smile in return, her hips shifting in the way that he loved. “I bet it
gets better every time you do.”
His hand curled around his glass, raising it to her. “Among other things.”
Their gazes remained locked, a torrent of unspoken feelings passing between them.
“What say we get out of here, flyboy?”
Matthew’s smile grew. He hadn’t been called that since their first encounter, in a bar not terribly
different than the one they were in. He reached into his pocket and produced a credit chip, one with a
healthy five figure amount that would pay for every ounce of alcohol in the bar.
“Looks like I’ve got my first job as an Elite lined up already. Drink up, everyone!”
There was a cacophony of hoots and hollers, the details of his story already forgotten. It wasn’t
everyday that a stranger rid a township of their crime problem and used the reward money to buy
everyone around him a drink. Matt excused himself, shuffling past the crowd of admirers to follow the
mysterious woman out. Mighty, drunken oaths of brotherhood and gratitude were shouted his way,
shoulder pats and camaraderie making his every step a crowded one.
He would be forgotten in a week, and he knew it.
But none of it mattered. The one woman who could have made the night a perfect one had
emerged from the crowd like magic. Matt looked down, her hand leading his through the cheering throng.
Intoxication gave way to feelings of affection so strong that he felt his throat tighten.
For her part, Kyndi simply wanted to leave. There had been a time when she’d have joined Matt,
drank and smoked and danced until she lost herself in the party. But if the previous week’s bender didn’t
do the trick, a crowd of backwater yokels wouldn’t either. The time for running was past, and the
township’s hangars only a brief shuttle ride away.
The cool night air was a refreshing switch from the body-heated warmth of the tavern. Freed
from the expectations of playing the hero, Matt closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate the
silence. The township of Harskin’s Pride was a small one, with paved streets and basic amenities, but it
wasn’t what anyone would call a destination. All around the pair common citizens walked, men and
women and families living their lives.
A soft hand curled around his own. “You did well, you know. Saving these people.”
Matt turned, brushing her hair back. “Yeah, well- everyone needs a hobby.”
The woman hailed a taxi, the hovering vehicle coming to a halt before them. She pulled on Matt’s
hand and led him towards it.
“That they do,” she said. “But a little company never hurts, either.”

Commander Matthew Victor Lehman gulped down air, his hands squeezing around Kyndi’s
backside, her hips moving back and forth on top of him. Sensing his fullness, she only ground down
harder, trapping him along the path of no return. His breathing intensified as his eyes squeezed
involuntarily shut.

“Holy sweet godd​ amn!”
The man writhed and buckled beneath her, his body spending itself in carnal euphoria. For a long
moment, both simply caught their breath, looking at each other. She smiled and laid herself on his chest,
feeling his warmth inside her. It was a ritual between them, the business of lovemaking superseding the
still-unspoken reason for their lives once again touching.
Kyndi didn’t mind. The intimacy was a welcome distraction for her, a validation that she’d made
the right choice. She didn’t ​need​ Lehman’s company any more than she needed him for credits- but even
a woman like Kyndi Jane McCaskill sometimes craved human contact for more than a quick and dirty
romp.
His fingertips caressed her back up to the nape of her neck, lifting her face to his for a long,
luxurious kiss. After a minute or so, Matt caught his breath, his mind settling into a less carnal state than
the clothes-tearing urgency with which they’d entered the B​ etrayal’s​ stateroom.
A sated smiled lifted his lips, though his eyes were still shut. “A man could die like this, you
know.”
Kyndi squeezed her abdomen, feeling a touch of renewed masculine vigor stir inside her.
“Hell of a way to go, flyboy.”
For a long time, his hands continued to trace along her tattooed skin, but his eyes had grown
curious.
“Darlin’- you know I’m always happy to see you- but why here? Why now? Is something wr-”
A finger pressed against his lips. “You just made Elite, Matty. This is y​ our​ night. And what
makes you think that the only reason I’d find you is because something’s wrong?”
Matt gently moved aside her finger, letting a wry grin spread across his face. “Because social
calls ain’t your style. Never were.”
“Can’t a girl just drop by to offer her congratulations?”
The man looked at her sideways, gentle disbelief in his eyes.
Kyndi held the facade for a just a moment, and then exhaled. “Alright. I need someone I can trust.
There’s no money in it. But it’s something I can’t do alone.”
A trace of his old cockiness lifted Matt’s lips. “And you need a newly-Elite bounty hunter to pull
it off, huh?”
Smiling despite herself, Kyndi leaned forward, her hair creating a curtain around their faces. She
kissed the man again, her gaze deepening.
“No,” she said. “I need a ​friend.​”

Kyndi woke, her head on Matt’s chest. It was nearly sunrise by local planetary time, but it didn’t
make any difference in the ​Betrayal’s d​ arkened cabin. Taking care to not wake her lover, she reached
across him to pick up her comm device to check the time.

Seven hours of sleep,​ she thought. ​Not bad.
For a long while, the woman tried and failed to fall back asleep. It wasn’t normally a problem for
her, be it in her ratty old ship’s bunk or Matt’s luxurious Fer-de-Lance cabin. But now she was on the
cusp of something major, and her unquiet mind wouldn’t calm itself. Slipping out of the covers, she
picked up her clothes from the floor and exited the cabin, thankful for the soft noises that the
Saud-Kruger-decorated ship’s doors made.
The ​Betrayal​ was landed in a simple hangar, a surface-level affair with a flat roof and massive
bay doors for egress. She didn’t intend on opening them, though. Rather, Kyndi wanted solitude and a
breath of fresh air. Leading up to the roof was a dusty access, with rickety metal stairs and a rusting
handrail.
A door that hadn’t been opened in months creaked open, and Kyndi stepped onto the roof. The
planet on which she’d found Matt had two moons, both at a slivery crescent phase. A biting chill numbed
her skin, but she didn’t care. This would be the last night she’d be alone in-
Her gaze swept across the lights of the township. ​Days? Weeks? Months, even?
The woman felt absentmindedly on her person for an onionhead joint. She wasn’t sure as to the
local narcotics laws- but this high up in what passed as a starport, she was certain that local Authority
wouldn’t come knocking. Especially if she was shacked up with the man who’d taken down Raj Khalifa.
Her fingers brushed against a familiar outline, and she pulled the joint from her jacket pocket
along with an old-style flip lighter. A flash of light illuminated her face as she lit it, her mind settling on
the task ahead. In the distance, the first lights of early-morning commuters were moving. A pink-orange
glow in the horizon signalled that dawn was approaching.
“Never figured you for a morning person.”
Kyndi glanced over her shoulder. Matt, too, had risen, a cup of coffee in his hand. A knowing
smirk lifted her lips. He’d known- somehow he’d ​known-​ that she’d come up here. And it was just like the
man to join her unannounced. He’d also dressed in the clothing from the night before, his unbuckled belt
hanging from his trousers.
“I’m ​always​ awake before you. Or haven’t you noticed?”

The man joined his partner, watching the stars begin to fade. The colors on the horizon were
intensifying. He took a long sip of coffee, the morning chill refreshing to him.

“What I’ve noticed is that you always seem to come around when something’s up.”
Another sip.
“So… what’s up?”
Kyndi didn’t answer, only gently stealing the mug of steaming liquid from his hands and taking a
gulp. She handed it back to him and pressed the onionhead to her lips, its tip flaring as she inhaled.
A cloud of blueish-green smoke escaped her lips as her gaze deepened. “Do you remember a long
time ago when you asked what the hell I did with my credits?”
“Vaguely.”
The woman brushed a lock of purple hair from her face, the first rays of morning light outlining
her profile.
“There’s good money in smuggling, Matty. Especially if you’re good. And I’m v​ ery​ good.”
Suspicion clouded Lehman’s face. “Reckon you are, darlin’- but you didn’t track me all the way
out here just to brag, did you?”
Kyndi ignored his gentle barb and pressed on. “Pirating, smuggling, slaving- lots of money to had
making the ‘verse a worse place. The thing is, there ain’t jack to be made exploring. Unless someone’s
paying you extra to scout a specific area. And that’s what I’ve been doing.”
Matt’s face twisted in confusion. “Exploring?”
His partner resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “P​ aying​ people to explore. In Pegasi.”
For a long time, the man joined her in watching the rising sun. The first traces of warmth began to
compliment the morning chill. The glow made Kyndi appear older than she was, the first hints of lines
distorting her normally smooth face. For his part, Matt swirled his now lukewarm coffee in his mug, his
expression deepening.
“You’ve been looking for your folks.”
Some of Kyndi’s old smartass demeanor returned. “Careful. Guessing right the first time can go
to your head.”
Matt didn’t smile. “And you ain’t the kind of gal who’d say something about it unless there was
something to say.”
A long moment passed between them, her confident facade dissolving. Her face hardened against
the dawn’s light, her throat swelling from a hard swallow.
“I can’t do it alone, Matty. I-”
Kyndi turned away, refusing to let him see her so insecure. She crossed her arms, against the chill
and the reality of what she had to do.
A hand settled over her shoulder. “You won’t. I promise.”
His touch failed to reassure her. “I’m not sure what we’re going to find. And as far as I know
there shouldn’t be any trouble from the locals. It’s deep-space coordinates, where no sane person would
ever be. There’s also the issue of-”
Lehman’s hand spun her around. Concern dominated his features. He looked past her for a
moment, and then into her eyes.
“All this time we’ve known each other, and this is the first I’ve ever seen you babble. You sure
you want to do this?”

Defeated, Kyndi looked down at her feet. The onionhead joint in her fingers had burned out.
Snorting, she flicked it over the edge of the hangar roof.

“No. But I n​ eed​ to. You don’t know what it’s been like. What I’ve been carrying inside me. All
this time, by myself, working job to job and pretending like everything’s okay. It ​isn’t​ okay. I need to do
this, and I need-”

Matt nodded. “A friend. You weren’t joking.”
The young woman looked down, defeated. “Yeah. And you’re one of the only people in the
whole ‘verse who even knows my full name.”
Lehman swirled his coffee in his mug. There was never any doubt as to his decision.
“When do we leave?”
Kyndi looked up, hope in her eye. “Depends. Is that fancy ship of yours rigged for any kind of
legwork?”
The bounty hunter looked down, where the ​Betrayal​ was parked beneath their feet. “As a matter
of fact, she is. Extra fuel tank, a nice big scoop, and a buggy bay. That Raj guy was a real pain in the ass
to track down.”
A trace of a smile lifted her lips. “And still a spare flightsuit of mine in the closet?”
Matt’s hand wrapped around Kyndi’s, warming it in the morning chill. “Helmet ‘n everything.”

The thruster banks of the I​ nevitable Betrayal ​roared to life, their blue-tinted glow contrasting
against the fiery hues of the planet’s sunrise. The sleek vessel rocketed away, disappearing into the
morning sky.

Aboard the Fer-de-Lance’s bridge, Kyndi relaxed into the co-pilot’s seat. To her right and
slightly forward was Matt, his face lit up in the warm orange glow. Pink and orange clouds streaked by
the canopy glass. It was the most peaceful moment that Kyndi had known in months.

A lazy smile lifted her lips. ​Maybe I've got it all wrong. Maybe instead of chasing the past I need
to make this my future. When was the last time you felt this good, with nothing but a cup of coffee inside
you?

T​ he woman touched her abdomen, her hand drifting down to an intimate area. She suppressed a
giggle only with difficulty.

​Among other things.
H​ er mind drifted, the hues of morning losing their light as the ​Betrayal​ flew higher into the
planet's atmosphere.
​It was with him and his parents. Them, and that Christmas we spent together. For a brief
moment, you had a family again. And it was perfect.
Darker thoughts accompanied the encroaching blackness of space.
​But that was a bandage, a painkiller. The wound isn't going to heal unless you have a good, long,
look at it.

​ Kyndi had given Matt the coordinates to the wreckage beforehand. The first jump waypoint
appeared before them on the canopy glass.

Lehman glanced behind him, his eyes carrying in them a look of finality.
“You ready for this, darlin’?”
Kyndi looked at the holographic waypoint.
​Am I?
T​ he woman brushed a lock of purple hair from her face. She sat upright in her seat, her hands
gripping the rails.
“Do it.”

Lehman scowled, biting into a ration bar.
“Pegasi. I h​ ate​ this place.”
At his side, Kyndi nodded.
I bet you do. And you never come back from it quite the same. But that’s a conversation for
another time.
Red and orange nebulae stretched out before the ​Betrayal’s​ canopy. Under other circumstances it
might have been beautiful, but for the pair of travelers they seemed like a demonic gate, warning the
innocent and the weak to stay away.
Kyndi learned against her co-pilot’s seat. “Imagine how it is for me. All my folks ever wanted
was to scan some stars and get paid.”
The bounty hunter exhaled. “Right. Sorry. ”
A long moment of silence passed between them. Kyndi took a bite of her own ration bar, not even
noting the taste.
“Speaking of which- how are yours doing?”
Lehman considered for a moment. “Well enough. We see each other via holofac, and I stop by the
homestead whenever I’m nearby.”
A smirk lifted one side of Kyndi’s mouth. “And what do you tell them?”
Matt glanced to his partner with a smirk of his own, though his eyes held a hint of regret.
“Everything except the truth.”
Another long silence passed between them. Kyndi looked to her partner.
“You protect people, Matty. It’s what you do. And sometimes they need protecting from the
truth.”

The bounty hunter gave her a peculiar look. “Angling for a job with the Inquisition in case
smuggling doesn’t work out?”

Kyndi finished her ration bar. “They couldn’t afford me. And the dress code’s a dealbreaker
anyway.”

The pair exchanged a chuckle, the red hues of Pegasi still looming before them. Kyndi looked at
her feet, and then to Matt.

“But really- what’s it like? To be raised-” she waved her hand, “in some idyllic place by loving
parents, and then grow up to be what you are? How do you reconcile that?”

Lehman looked away from his partner. “Time was, I told myself I was doin’ humanity a favor by
culling the worst of it. Now I ain't so sure.”

The hunter looked back, eager to change the subject.
“You had it pretty good too, didn’t you? Before, you know…”
The purple-haired smuggler nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. But then life handed me a shit sandwich,
and my choice was to either take a bite or starve.”
“Well, when you put it ​that​ way…”
Kyndi’s eyes grew hard. “You don’t know what those few years did to me. It wasn’t just about
being a slave. It was how hopeless it was for people like me. How the Kumos broke down your will.”
Matt held up his hands. “I know. I-”
The smuggler cut him off. “No, Matty- you d​ on’t. ​How did you spend your seventeenth year?”
The hunter opened and closed his mouth, seeing where the conversation was going but helpless to
stop it.
“In school, wondering if I’d ever talk to a girl.”
A look of mocking spread across Kyndi’s face. “Well,​ I​ spent it stranded on some voidforsaken
outpost and working odd jobs, wearing the baggiest clothes possible so that men wouldn’t notice me. And
that was ​after​ I’d escaped the Kumos.”
Matt was silent, not knowing what to say. “Your folks wouldn’t have wanted to see you torturing
yourself like this. We don’t have to-”
Kyndi turned to him, her gaze intense. “Yes, we do. And I wasn’t joking about the way they
broke me down. You know what they would do? Tell me that I wasn’t kidnapped at all, but back home
where I belonged. I fought back when they tried to play their mind games, so they threw me in with the
slaves. Sent me to some kitchen to serve their pirate slop to a never-ending line of scum. And if one of
them decided that I was looking good…”
She turned away, her mouth trembling.
“Like I said, you don’t know. But there isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about it.”
For a long time, neither man nor woman said anything. Kyndi stared out the canopy glass, a
dozen lines of thought running through her mind. Like before at the hangar, she felt a hand on her
shoulder. She didn’t tense or flinch, but gripped it with her own.
“Been doin’ some thinking myself.”
A weak chuckle escaped the smuggler’s lips. “Now I k​ now​ we’re in trouble.”
Gently, Matt turned her around to face him.
“What you said- about reconciling what I am with what I do. ​I​ think about that every day, too.
Turns out I can’t. I’ve been in the blood money business for so long, I never thought about anything else.
But there’s a way. The ‘verse is turning, and I don’t like the way it’s headin’. After this is all done…”

He looked down, unsure of how to continue. Kyndi lifted his stubbled jaw with a pair of fingers
and looked up at him.

“Yes?”
Matt swallowed. “I’m Elite now, darlin’. And you’ve seen Gal-Net. It’s nothing but Imps and
Feds and Thargoids and war. Ain’t a day that’ll go by when someone won’t want me to be a pawn for
their cause. Huntin’ bugs or huntin’ people- all I am to the powers-that-be is a weapon.”
Kyndi’s eyes widened. “What are you saying?”
He looked away, and then to his partner. “I’m sayin’ that this is the last time you’ll see the
Betrayal​. And that Raj Khalifa was the last man I kill to pay the bills. I’m through with this life. Through
with the killing. Through with the politics. After we settle this business of yours, I’m sellin’ my ship and
heading to Colonia.”
The news was a minor shock, but the smuggler was long accustomed to masking her feelings.
“And?”
His mouth hung open, his next words spoken only with difficulty.
“And I can’t imagine a life where you ain’t at my side.”
Kyndi took a step back, as though pushed. For a moment, she said nothing. Before her was the
only man in the ‘verse she trusted. Behind her was the fiery void of Pegasi. The enormity of what Matt
was saying wasn’t lost on her, but-
But it isn’t like you haven’t thought about it. And if you had to choose a man to leave it all behind
with…
Pegasi beckoned, but Kyndi turned her back to it. Her lip trembled, and though she opened and
closed her mouth, no words came out.
With a swift motion, she pulled her partner to her, her lips pressing hard against his. Delicate
hands gripped his stubbled jaw, the tips of their tongues touching.
Kyndi broke the kiss, her eyes gazing up at his. Matt caught his breath and looked down.
“So- that’s a yes?”
The smuggler brushed a purple lock of a hair from her face, and nodded. Her eyes were in danger
of welling up.
“One more job, Matty. You and me, heading into Pegasi and putting the past to bed. Then we sell
our ships and make a new life.”
Man and woman looked into each other’s eyes, silently sealing the understanding between them.
They would pool their assets, buy one ship in which to live, and get away from their lives of blood money
and crime.
Matt leaned in, kissing and gathering the woman to himself. Their lips lingered against each
other, breaking only to hold their foreheads together. Kyndi didn’t remember the last time she felt so sure
about anything.
Just one more job…
Hunter and smuggler looked at each other and saw the future. Matt’s hands drifted up to squeeze
Kyndi’s. His usual cockiness failed him, leaving him with nothing but naked honesty.
“Together.”
Kyndi swallowed and nodded, daring to allow herself to smile.
“Together.

CHAPTER TWO

The Asp had been an Explorer variant, one of the first to be equipped with the new frameshift
drive technology straight from Lakon’s factories. Like most vessels of its type it was large, with a massive
double-level canopy where the pilot and copilot occupied separate decks. On the sides of its hull,
Malmoneta​ could still be barely made out.

Neither time nor fate had been kind to the ship. Its hull was pitted and corroded, canopy glass
scuffed from a decade of impacts and neglect. Weapons damage told the story of its final engagement,
engines long dead and only darkness visible within the gash where Kumo raiders had forced their way
inside.

From the bridge of the I​ nevitable Betrayal,​ Kyndi was unable to tear her gaze away from the
derelict. She was clad in a spacewalking suit, her helmet slung under one arm. Standing a respectful
distance behind her was Matt, clad similarly.

She’s waited over a decade for this moment,​ he reasoned. ​A few more minutes won’t hurt.
“It’s not how I pictured it, you know. When I last saw it, it was at port. White, with an orange
stripe. New-looking, even after years of use.”
Light glinted from the Asp’s canopy. The stricken vessel was a decidedly grey shade,
long-flaking paint visible only in patches. It was impossible to tell whether the dull orange that permated
the hull was leftover paint or corrosion.
Kyndi looked down, gently chastising herself.
“Guess I never really thought about what it would look like after all this time.”
Matt looked at his boots, and then up to his partner.
“That ain’t the only thing, darlin’. The power may or may not come back on. And when we’re
inside, we might find-”
Kyndi snapped her head to the side. “I know. And if we do, I’ll take care of it. Both of them.”
The hunter nodded. “Fair enough. Now c’mon. This family reunion’s been on hold long enough.”

Ingress into the derelict vessel was easy enough. The pair of spacewalking guests had only to
float through the hole that had been cut into the vessel’s cargo bay. Upon closer inspection, the true extent
of the damage had made itself clear. Both thrusters were shredded, and a crude harpoon had lodged itself
deep into the ship’s superstructure. The cable to which it was attached had been cut, the severed end
floating in space.

Matt swept a trained eye over the ruined vessel, frowning. S​ o they shot out its engines and
harpooned it to a stop. Simple and brutal, like everything else in this blasted sector.

As expected, the cargo bay was largely empty. A few stray containers still floated, covered in
frost like everything else. Matt activated his mag boots and walked over to one. The manifest screen was
dead.

“Food, mainly,” Kyndi said to his unasked question. “They liked to stock up for long voyages.
We’d be out in the black for months at a time, even with the frameshift drive.”

She floated over to his side, running a hand along the container.
“I remember hating ration bars.”
Matt smiled humorlessly. “E​ veryone​ hates ration bars.”
“Everyone isn’t a fourteen year old girl who knows everything about everything.”
The hunter looked around. Even in the shadows of the unlit cargo bay, he could see several more
containers, some secured and others not. On the far side of the hold was another hole, only slightly less
crudely blasted.
So this is where they forced themselves in. Though the cargo bay.
He shook his head. T​ wo explorers and a teenage girl. Easy pickings for Kumo scum.
A hand curled around his own, jarring him from his thoughts. Kyndi’s face was visible inside her
helmet. She, too, had seen the telltale blast hole in the bay door.
“It was a long time ago, Matty. What’s done is done. I just want to see what’s left behind.”
The hunter scowled, flipping on his suit’s lights.
“Long time ago or not, I’m havin’ second thoughts about hanging up my bounty huntin’ spurs. It
just ain’t right.”
He felt her hand give his a final squeeze, a second set of suit lights flickering on.
“The whole ‘verse ain’t right, Matty. Let’s go.”

The corridor leading from the cargo bay was pitch black, with only the lights from the suits
providing illumination. Floating in the weightless interior were various bits of scrap and parts, nothing of
note but doing their part to give the ship the feeling of a tomb. Matt hardened his face and pressed
forward, his heart pounding despite the lack of legitimate danger.

A tomb ain’t that far off,​ he thought. E​ specially if we find her folks.
For her part, Kyndi’s stoic front was holding. She’d been a ball of nerves on the way over, but
seemed to draw inner strength from once again walking the corridors of her childhood home.
“I remember all of this,” she said to no one in particular. “This corridor, the way the ship is laid
out- everything. My old quarters were right across from my parents’. The vehicle bay should be right
ahead.”
Matt shone his light around, looking for anything that might be of value. Nothing.

“For all the good some frozen SRV would do us right now. Any chance of getting the power back
on?”

Kyndi blinked, turning around in a slow circle. A gloved hand raised, a finger pointing.
“There. Access panel. It should have a master reset.”
Their magboots keeping them planted to the deck, the partners made their way down the corridor,
careful to step around any potentially dangerous debris. Sure enough, there was an access panel flush with
the bulkhead. Taking a knee, Matt and Kyndi examined it.
Without hesitating, Kyndi flipped the tabs that secured the panel into place. With a tug she was
able to slide it aside, handing it to Matt before laying prone to shine her light down the corridor.
“Just like I remember.”
Matt shone his own light down the accessway. “You’ve been in there?”
Kyndi nodded. “First rule of ship life: know every square inch of the ship.”
“And the second rule?”
The slightest of smiles lifted her lips. “Train the smallest crew member for the most cramped
jobs.”
Not bothering to wait for his answer, Kyndi got down on her hands and knees, crawling inside the
accessway. For a few moments, Matt watched her from the inside, shaking his head at the woman’s
bravery.
But this isn’t the first time you’ve seen her do this, h​ e thought. ​This was how you and her survived
the night in that crashed Anaconda. Bringing back ruined ships from the dead is a specialty of hers.
Her voice crackled in his suit’s comms. “I’ve found it. Big red reset lever. I just… need to-”
Emergency lights flickered, and then stayed on. Even through the insulated suit, Matt could hear
long-dormant generators spool up, filling the area around him with the low hum of ship noise.
“Got it!”
The man exhaled. T​ his woman.
“Good job, darlin’. You’ve got a real knack for this, you know that?”
A pair of suited legs emerged from the accessway, followed by the rest of his purple-haired
partner. She looked pleased with herself, but still apprehensive about the work ahead.
“Just coming home is all.”
Slowly, regular corridor lighting was coming online. Matt looked around himself.
“Looks like the reactor works, at least.”
Kyndi pursed her lips. “Pirates don’t target those. Too easy to make the ship go critical and loose
the loot.”
“Right.”
She stood up, frowning. “The moment we open up a sealed door, it’ll create a vacuum that leads
all the way to the cargo bay breach. But if we can step inside and close the door behind us…”
Lehman nodded. “It’ll make for a half-assed airlock while life support does its thing. And
everything beyond that’ll be habitable.”
Lights continued to flicker on, creating an almost normal look for the ship apart from the floating
debris. Kyndi turned off her suit’s lights and looked down the now-lit corridor. At the end was a door with
a glowing control panel next to it. She strode towards it, not bothering to wait for her partner.
Matt resecured the panel, silently impressed with the woman’s fortitude.

Or maybe she’s just in mission mode, shoving all the stress and old feelings aside to deal with
later. And that’s a shoe that’ll drop when it damn well feels like it.

The door slid open. Waiting for Matt and Kyndi was a small dining table with bolted-in chairs. It
was a simple, composite affair, but sat three with ease.

Kyndi stepped forward, running her hand along the table. The emotion in her voice was
unmistakable.

“This was where we ate,” she said. “Right here. Three times a day for…”
She shrugged, trying and failing to recall the number of years. “Well, it doesn’t matter. But it’s
surreal seeing it again. Or any of this.”
Matt eyed her warily. “Being here after all this time. It ain’t- well, it ain’t bringin’ any painful
memories back to the surface, is it? You’ve been holdin’ up awfully well.”
Kyndi smiled, her eyes bittersweet. “No. I feel like I’m just on a scavving job during a rough
spell. And memories? Nothing I haven’t had a thousand nightmares about already.”
Silence passed between them. Kyndi looked down, frowning.
“I never told you about that, did I?”
The hunter’s face hardened. “Reckon you ain’t.”
Slowly, the woman turned, doing her best to smile.
“There’s a ​lot​ I’ve never told you, Matty. About me. About when I’m alone. Still sure you want
to be stuck in Colonia with me?”
Now it was Lehman’s turn to look down.
“C’mon. Let’s finish searching the ship.”

“My old quarters. Now ​here’s​ a place I never thought I’d be again.”
The living space was larger than most that Matt had seen in a Lakon ship, and considerably more
homey. It had the usual recessed bunk in the bulkhead, but also had a private table and shower area, as
well as a private terminal and a generous amount of deck space.

Kyndi stepped inside, the floating bits around her no longer ship debris but personal effects from
long ago. Matt followed her inside, saying nothing as he watched her silently pluck an old flight boot
from the air. She held it up and checked inside a row of lockers, looking in every nook and cranny. With
gentle self-deprecation, she smiled.

“Only one boot. I must have been a slob then, too.”
The smuggler held it for another moment, her gaze drifting. Her eyes widened.
“Is that- no… it can’t be!”
She let the boot go to gently to pick up an old teddy bear, worn and ragged but clearly of
sentimental value to her. The woman let out a ragged exhale and clutched it to her chest.
Without being too obvious, Matt peered at his partner through her helmet glass. Her stoic
professionalism was breaking down, the reality of being on board the ship where so many memories were
locked seeping in. Not knowing what to say, the man looked at his feet until he heard her voice.
“Well, at least I found Randy again. So there’s that.”
Confusion screwed up his face. “Who?”
A sad smile spread across Kyndi’s features. She held up the stuffed animal.
“Randy the Raccoon. My best and only friend from birth to about age fifteen. Never went a night
without it.”
Matt looked again. The animal wasn’t a bear, after all. It was a raccoon, wearing a set of orange
coveralls. He shook his head.
“Darlin’- we don’t have to do this all in one day. The B​ etrayal​ is parked right outside. We can
alw-”
Kyndi looked up, her eyes sharp. “No. We’re here. This is happening. It’s not over until I’ve
found my parents and downloaded the ship’s logs.”
The man looked her hard in the eye and nodded. “Alright. We move on.”
A conciliatory smile lifted Kyndi’s lips.
“Yeah. And Randy comes with us.”

Matt was checking a supply closet when he heard the scream.
As fast as he could, he ran down the corridor, ploughing through the numerous floating debris in
his way. The task of clearing the ship had eaten their last hour, with neither him nor his partner finding
anything of note. With the power restored, the interior of the ship looked less like a spooky derelict and
more like it was owned by a the ‘verse’s biggest slob. They’d even let their guard down, the initial
emotional magnitude of Kyndi setting foot back onto her old ship settling into something resembling
normality.
And then Kyndi screamed.

Matt’s wrist computer was bound to her suit’s signal, so finding her was easy. Matt ran, rounding
a corner as fast as his magboots would let him. He found Kyndi backed against a wall, staring into an
adjacent room.

“I’m here!”
His partner didn’t say anything, only raising a gloved hand, pointing to that which had made her
cry out. Swallowing, Matt turned- and had to suppress a yelp of his own.
There, floating amid long-frozen chunks of blood, was a man and woman. Their skin was dry and
leathery, preserved as it was in the frozen airlessness of the ship. There was little doubt as to who they
were.
Matt composed himself, and turned to Kyndi.
“Darlin’- are these-”
Swiftly, she nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from the floating forms. Matt forced himself to
turn back towards the bodies.
Hell. You knew this might happen. And it’s not like you’ve never seen a floating stiff before.
His partner’s muted sobbing came over the suit’s comms. Without asking, Matt inched his way
into the room. It was the escape pod racks, where all the violence that he’d been expecting to find had
been concentrated. The door had been burned through in the same manner as in the cargo bay. He looked
behind himself. Up until now, there hadn’t been any floating blood, any weapons damage, any signs of a
struggle. Now he understood why.
They were boarded, and either hid here or fled for safety. But it wasn’t enough. The dirty pirates
burned their way through and-
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to not imagine the horrors that must have happened in the room.
But he couldn’t. Heartbreak and protectiveness clouded his thoughts, feelings of rage and impotence and
helplessness coursing through his chest in behalf of Kyndi’s parents. It was only with great difficulty that
he opened his eyes.
One of the hatches to the escape pods was open, its controls primed but not activated for over a
decade. Deep inside it was-
Matt heard his partner before he saw her.
“My other boot.”
Sure enough, the boot was a match for the one found in her room. Its foot was lodged into a
crevice at the end of the tube. For a long time, Matt and Kyndi stared, taking in the reality of what had
happened. Over the comms, a ragged exhale sounded in his ears.
“It’s just like I remember,” she said. “They came so fast. I guess I didn’t even have enough time
to get dressed. My parents told me to run. They tried to save me. Tried to give me a chance by firing me
into space.”
She swallowed, the tears forming around her eyes.
“But they couldn’t. The Kumos were faster. Killed them both and dragged me out of the pod. I
guess I was trying to hang on with that stupid boot.”
Her gaze turned to the bodies. The man was slim, with youthful eyes and brown hair. The woman
had been attractive in life, but now a tortured look was frozen forever on her face. She reached out to
them with a trembling hand.
“They loved me so much. Tried to save me before themselves. Tried, but it wasn’t enough. It
wasn’t-”

The first sob wasn’t a sob, but a dam bursting. Kyndi’s knees buckled, sinking to the deck even in
zero-g. Tears floated away from her eyes, her nose sniffing back globs of mucous.

Matt dropped to one knee and took his partner in his arms, putting himself between her and the
sight of her parents. The suits’ bulk made for an awkward embrace. Kyndi clutched her partner with
gloved hands, desperate for any human contact that could be had.

For ten years, the purple-haired woman had held it together and forged a life for herself among
the stars. For ten years, the black feeling deep within her had been ignored, either by masking its presence
with onionhead or clubbing it into submission with the fleeting bliss of carnal pleasure. But on that day it
burst to the surface, losing its venom from the depths of her wounded soul. At that moment, she was
nothing. At that moment, she was no one.

For the first time in her life as a spacer, Kyndi Jane McCaskill allowed her true self to show its
tearful face.

CHAPTER THREE

“Darlin’?”
Kyndi was laying in her old childhood bunk, clutching Randy the Raccoon to her chest. Life
support had come fully online, and neither her nor Matt needed a spacesuit to walk the corridors of the
Malmoneta.
All pretense of holding it together had been dropped upon seeing her parents again, and with
tearful reluctance had consented to have Matt prepare their bodies for jettisoning into space. They were
both in an escape pod, with a note of remembrance and love included with them for all time. It seemed
fitting to Kyndi that her parents should spend eternity together, even if it was in death.
Not needing to ask what Matt needed her for, the young woman sat up, her eyes still puffy.
They’d agreed that jettisoning her parents’ remains would be the last thing they did before they left, but
there was still work to be done. Kyndi had wanted to download the ship’s logs onto a disk and take the
datacore with them for study, and Matt had been unable to access anything beyond basic ship functions.
The young woman brushed a floating strand of stray hair that had gotten loose from her pony tail.
A brave, sad smile lifted her lips.
“Is it time?”
Matt nodded. “Your folks are ready. We just need to get the info.”
“Alright.”
Kyndi allowed herself to be helped to her feet, leaving Randy floating in the space above the
bunk. Together, they walked down the main corridor to the upper bridge level, where a wall terminal was
reporting critical damage to the thrusters. Kyndi ignored it and started typing, her expression settling into
one of focus. From behind her, Matt narrowed his eyes.
“Hold up a sec- you have to b​ ypass​ your own ship’s security?”
Kyndi blinked. “I- I guess I do.”
Matt tilted his head, looking at his partner sideways. “And that doesn’t seem odd to you?”
The purple-haired woman looked down at her fingers. Though it had been over a decade since
she’d had to do so, the old muscle memory and routine procedure had swiftly returned.
“It’s- it was just a part of growing up here. The ​Malmoneta’s​ security was always a bit wonky,
and-”
She shrugged. “And so sometimes you needed to run a bypass. My parents taught me coding at an
early age. It’s how we discovered my knack for it.”
“​How​ young?”
Kyndi considered. “I’d say that I knew the symbols at age six, and was running simple bypasses
at seven or eight. It’s hard to recall.”
Matt exhaled. “Right. Well, let’s just get that datacore copied. Trusting to this old tub’s life
support ain’t sittin’ well with me. No offense.”
“None taken. Just give me a sec.”

The hunter turned, taking a few steps forward and staring out of the canopy bubble. It really ​was​ a
beautiful view, taking him back to the time that he’d briefly owned an Asp of his own. Things hadn’t
ended well with it. Memories of betrayal and pain briefly clouded his thoughts, as well as partners past.

Nova Cassidy, h​ e remembered. B​ lue hair with a thirst for justice. I wonder whatever became of
her.

The sounds of rhythmic typing behind him continued. Matt leaned against the pilot’s chair,
orange holo-controls flickering on the control panel. Being where he was- in the M​ almoneta,​ next to the
woman he cared for, and in a sector he dreaded brought all kinds of memories to the forefront. He felt that
he was on the cusp of something huge, something life-changing- but couldn’t quite place a finger on what.

This is the last job I do before I hang up my spurs,​ he thought. ​Kyndi and I are pullin’ up the
stakes and heading to Colonia. Maybe I can convince my folks to come along.

Other, darker memories asserted themselves. The location of the M​ almoneta w​ asn’t lost on him.
And it’s a choice I’m making, even knowing the risks. Marra’s still out there somewhere, mixing
it up with the high and mighty of Tjakiri and probably making someone’s life miserable. It’s what she
does best, ain’t it? But let her try to find me in Colonia. Her reach ain’t that long. She’ll just have to
backstab that Deggie guy using someone else.
The hunter glanced behind him, sneaking a glimpse of the woman to whom he’d committed.
Despite the solemnity of the situation, some of the old excitement at being by her side stirred within him.
It’s been a long road together. Meetin’ at that bar and going through hell to get that artifact to
Rax. And then the Utopian job, and rescuing that little girl from when I was pawn of Patreus’s. Christmas
at my folks’ house. Liberating that data cache in Kamadhenu. And swiping those creds from Sirius
Corporation…
His thoughts centered themselves. ​That little girl. What was her name? Katie. Yeah. Katie Taylor.
With her parents, James and Samantha. Hope they’re doing okay.
Kyndi’s fingers continued to dance across the keyboard, one foot absently lifting onto its toes.
Matt smirked as his eyes swept over her figure, to her purple hair and sharp eyes.
Making a life with this woman. Who’d have ever thought? And whatever we do, wherever we go,
it’ll be a hell of a view.
“All done.”
Matt’s eyes darted up into Kyndi’s as she pocketed the disk. She looked simultaneously pleased
with herself and somber, knowing that the hardest part of their visit was at hand.
“Good job, darlin’. Only one thing left to do. No rush, either. Whenever you’re ready to-”
The woman’s eyes shifted, looking past Matt.
“What’s that?”
The hunter turned behind him, curious. The ​Malmoneta’s s​ canners were picking up faint signals.
Matt’s eyes widened. B​ ut that’s impossible. We’re in the middle of goddamn nowhere.
“Darlin’...”
Kyndi’s jaw dropped. She, too, had seen the signal. In the distance, faint specks of artificial light
moved against the blackness of space. The faintest outlines of thruster glow had begun to make
themselves visible.
“I think we’d better call it a day, Matty.”
Matt blinked. There really ​were​ ships incoming.
“Reckon you’re right.”

In a hurry, man and woman ran out of the bridge and into the living commons, where their
spacewalking suits had been stowed. Silently, they hurried to put them back on, their process slowed by
the suit’s bulk and the urgency of the situation. Outside, the simulated thruster noises of multiple ships
sounded in the M​ almoneta’s​ interior.

A public comms channel opened up, followed by a no-nonsense man’s voice.
“Unidentified Fer-de-Lance ​Inevitable Betrayal,​ respond.”
Cursing, Matt keyed his wrist computer. “This is Commander Matthew Lehman of the Pilot’s
Federation. I’m on an authorized mission of salvage and burial. Who is this?”
A low, gutteral chuckling sounded over the line. “This is Wing Lead Klementos Antoniou of
Black Omega. First time I’ve seen that bitch empress's eagle on anything except Gal-Net. You’re a long
way from home, stranger.”
​Great. Marra’s outfit. Do I tell ‘em that I’m married to their boss?
He glanced to his side, Kyndi’s eyes wide.
Not a chance in hell.
The hunter seethed. “Yeah, well, you take the jobs as they come. And it’s ‘emperor’.”
To his side, Kyndi was just finishing securing her gloves, urgency in her movement. But
Antoniou wasn’t finished.
“That’s a fine story, but I just can’t know if the Snakes are bringing in outside muscle. They’re all
over these parts, picking apart wrecks like these to keep their ragtag fleet flying. So you’ll excuse me if I
don’t believe you.”
Stalling for time, Lehman pulled on his boots and twisted their locking rings to seal them.
Something about the Black Omega pilot’s response hadn’t made sense.
“Never mind if you believe me. What the hell are you talking about? ‘Snakes’?”
An ominous thruster noise echoed in the M​ almoneta.​ Kyndi held up a finger and dashed into
another room.
“Not exactly up on current events, are you? The Njikas Gold Crew are in revolt. We’re putting
them down like the dogs- snakes- that they are.”
Matt shook his head. “Sorry, pal. Ignorant Imperial here. Now, if y’all just mosey along and let us
leave, I’m sure that-”
Another guttural chuckle. “Can’t do that, Imp. I’m reading activity on that Asp, and none on that
pretty white ship next to it. It’ll make a fine addition to the Omega fleet.”
A bolt of fear and anger shot into Matt’s gut. “Touch my ship and ​die,​ asshole.”
Condescension crept into Klementos’s tone. “If you can’t defend it, it isn’t yours. Today you
learn that lesson.”
Kyndi emerged, wide-eyed. Matt spun to her, fitting his own helmet in place and killing his
comms.
“No time, darlin’- we’ve got to m​ ove!”
Man and woman dashed down the corridor to the sealed bulkhead door. Beyond it, the damaged
sections of the ship wouldn’t support them outside their spacesuits, and it would be a race to get back to
the B​ etrayal​ before the Omega boarding party did.
Matt gripped the bulkhead release handle. ​And even if we did, we’ve got a fight on our hands for
sure.
He turned to his partner. “You ready for this?”

“Do it.”
Matt nodded. “Hold on!”
In a single motion, the hunter twisted the door lock, the hatch unsealing itself and sliding open. In
a sudden gust, the atmosphere that had accumulated in the rest of the M​ almoneta​ rushed out, a swarm of
debris pelting Matt and Kyndi from deeper within the ship. But it only took a moment for the pressure to
equalize, and they wasted no time sprinting down the utility corridor as fast as their magboots allowed.
Man and woman stood at the dark precipice of the ruined cargo bay. Without the Asp’s speakers
to simulate spaceship noise, an eerie silence surrounded them. Both suits had only the most rudimentary
jets in their boots and wrists for steering, and it didn’t hold much of a reserve. There wouldn’t be much
chance of anything except a simple straightshot jump back to the ​Betrayal.
In the distance, a ship- a Viper, Matt reckoned- burst into flame and spun out of control. Matt
gulped. Suddenly the encounter had turned into a battle. But who was fighting who?
Hell with it. I’ve got to get back to my ship.
“Jump!”
Kyndi’s voice sounded in his ear, and on her command they deactivated their magboots and fired
a single burst from their wrist jets. The ​Betrayal ​was only a short distance away, tethered to the
Malmoneta​. The pair of spacers drifted through space, their eyes widening as they beheld the scene
around them.
A raging battle was taking place, Omega Vipers dogfighting with a menagerie of-
Matt squinted. W​ hat had that Antoniou guy said? “Snakes”?
Sure enough, a passing Cobra flashed a garish serpent painted around the ship’s hull, yellows and
oranges and greens contrasting against the stark black of the Omegas. Lasers and multicannon fire put on
a colorful show around them, accompanied by engine glows of varying hues.
In the distance, a flight of missiles rocketed from the pods of an Omega Viper. Matt’s eyes
widened as their thruster trails streaked straight towards the ​Betrayal-​ and them. They had barely
managed to touch down on the Fer-de-Lance’s hull when Matt tackled Kyndi.
“Get down!”
The missiles slammed home, tearing into the unshielded ship and nearly throwing them from its
surface. Their magboots compensated, but Kyndi was knocked off of her feet, trying and failing to grab
the smooth side of the hull.
Matt grabbed her just in time, the centrifugal force of the cartwheeling ship making it difficult to
maintain a grip. The Omega Viper streaked past them, the comparatively small ship seeming monstrous
next to the exposed pair of spacewalkers.
Kyndi screamed. Her legs were splayed away from the ship, her magboots useless. The hunter
grit his teeth and dropped to one knee, fighting against the vertigo of his spinning ship and dodging the
debris spewing from one engine.
Dirty Omegas couldn’t take my ship, so they decided to blast it.
“Hang on!”
Twisting his entire torso, Matt swung around with his other arm, pulling Kyndi back down and
onto the B​ etrayal’s​ hull. She landed hard, but magboots activated and she was once again grounded. Matt
scrambled to his feet and steadied himself. A gloved finger shot out, pointing to the rear of the ship.
“Quick!”

Kyndi regained her footing and ran aft, stepping and climbing between the massive engine
nacelles. There, on the port side, the airlock awaited. Multicannon fire raked across the other side of the
hull, but the armor held and they were safe. A jagged piece from the damaged engine broke free and only
narrowly missed them.

With a trembling, gloved hand, Matt keyed in the access code and nearly threw Kyndi inside as
the door slid open. Taking a last look at the spinning starfield behind him, he stepped through the
entryway, punching the door controls. The hatch slid shut and the room’s lights went from red to yellow
as life support normalized the pressure.

“C’mon, ​c’mon…”​
The lights turned green and auto-unlocked. Matt jammed the controls with his palm and sprinted
down the B​ etrayal’s​ rear corridor, not bothering to remove his suit. The t​ ing ting ting​ of multicannon fire
echoed within the ship, along with verbal warnings from her computer assistant of internal damage.
The door to the bridge slid open, and the pair of spacers raced into their seats, jumping and
floating the last stretch into them. Matt unsealed and ripped off his gloves, moving the damaged ​Betrayal
into position and blasting away. There was a jolt as the tethers ripped free, the shields coming online and
the hardpoints deploying. Matt’s face hardened.
“Payback time.”
The throttle wasn’t as responsive and the controls were shaky, but Lehman managed to swing the
Fer-de-Lance around and target a Viper. To his left, Kyndi’s head was on a swivel, her eyes widening at
the battle raging around them.
“What the h​ ell​ is going on?”
The hunter bared his teeth, the battle now on more familiar terms.
“I don’t know, but I ain’t in the mood to ask questions!”
Blue-tinted pulse lasers lit up the space before them, battering down the Viper’s shields and
melting away chunks of hull. Electrical arcs crackled around the ship, causing random system
malfunctions.
By instinct, Lehman switched to his railguns, the unique and lethal Imperial Hammer variants
powering up. He aligned his ship with that of the Omega Viper, squeezed the trigger, and-
The triple-shot rail slugs tore through the smaller vessel, shredding its internals and sealing its
fate. Inside, the black-masked pilot lost control, the reactor behind him going critical. His scream was cut
short by the explosion that engulfed his ship.
A voice crackled over the general comms. A quick glance at the scanner confirmed that only one
Omega ship remained. Klementos Antoniou's Viper drifted in space, his wingmates destroyed around
him. Beneath his Remlock mask his breathing was slow and tortured; his canopy had been breached, his
arm burned away by an errant laser bolt.
In a moment of adrenaline-fueled courage, Antoniou made his decision. Like all who fought for
Black Omega, he’d heard whisperings of the fate of those captured by the Snakes. Better to die now as a
warrior of Pegasi than as a sacrifice to their barbarian Great Serpent.
“You can finish ​me ​off…”
With his remaining hand, he used the last of his ship’s power to point it at the spinning Asp.
Gritting his teeth, he reached across himself and shoved the throttle all the way forward. The Viper’s
engines flared for the last time.
“But you snake-armed savages aren’t getting this ship!”

Too late, Matt and Kyndi realized the dying pilot’s intention. Kyndi’s eyes shot open as her
partner swung the ​Betrayal​ around. The Fer-de-Lance turned too slowly to make a difference, its stricken
engine making the maneuver a tricky one. The Viper fired its boost, hurling itself towards the ​Malmoneta.
Seeing his fate growing larger and larger, Klementos raised the blackened visor on his helmet, feeling the
chill of raw vacuum and saying a prayer in the language of his youth. Clan markings adorned his face, an
identity supplemented but never quite cast aside upon joining Black Omega. Now, at the very end, it
returned to help usher him into the beyond.

The Viper plunged into the M​ almoneta,​ the impact rupturing its already damaged reactor core and
triggering a catastrophic explosion. Too late to take action, the ​Inevitable Betrayal ​swung around just in
time to witness Antoniou's final act of bravery.

Kyndi’s mouth dropped as she struggled against the seat harness, helpless at the sight before her.
“N​ o!”
The explosion was massive, thousands of tiny fragments impacting against the ​Betrayal’s​ shields.
Matt yanked his joystick hard to one side, the slowly-responding thrusters narrowly missing the flaming
wreck. The remaining serpent-painted ships- old-model Eagles, Cobras, and a single antiquated Krait-
stowed their weapons and assumed a cautious formation around the foreign Fer-de-Lance.
Matt centered his throttle, gritting his teeth as the B​ etrayal​ ground to a halt. There was no way he
could fight the newcomers, not with a busted engine. Nor did he wish to do so. From what he’d seen, their
skill had been superb.
Maybe I can talk my way out of this. We were both shooting at Omega ships, after all. Let’s see if
“enemy of my enemy” still applies out here.
The comms chirped. A battered Viper was descending in front of the Fer-de-Lance, settling on an
equal plane. Matt could make out the pilot sitting in the bridge, but with an unusual flightsuit. He blinked.
Is he… is he bare-armed and tattooed? That’s goddamn insane, even for Pegasi.
Shaking his head, the hunter accepted the comms request. A holographic screen shimmered into
view before him. A middle-aged man appeared, well-built and standing tall for them both to see. His arms
were indeed bare, with dark tattoos of various snakes winding down his arm. A topknot adorned his head.
Matt stood up to face the man, seeing Kyndi do the same in his peripherals.
Like most who saw the ink for the first time, Matt was unable to take his eyes from it. But his
reasons for such had nothing to do with awed intimidation or humbled regard for artistry.
Kat. Kat von Steuben had ink just like that. Is this the same bunch that took her in?
For what seemed like a long time, Snake and Hunter regarded each other with weary silence. Matt
swallowed and decided that o​ ne​ of them had to speak eventually.
“Thanks for the assist against them Omega bastards. The name’s Lehman, and this here’s Kyndi.”
Distrust clouded the man’s features. “I am Marcus Raddick of the Njikas Gold Crew, leader of
these warriors and servant of the Great Serpent. What are you doing here?”
Kyndi stepped forward, fire in her eyes. “I could ask y​ ou ​the same thing. We’re in the middle of
nowhere. How did those Omega guys know to drop on these exact coordinates? And, for that matter, how
did you?”
Raddick looked at the young woman with amusement. “The clan purchases information about
valuable salvage same as anyone else. This ship and everything within were property of the Gold Crew.
We sought to claim it. They sought to stop us. Imagine our surprise to see not one but two sets of
interlopers at the scene.”

The smuggler snarled. “The ship belonged to m​ e. ​It held my parents’ remains, and was my
childhood home. You had no rights to it.”

“Nor do corpses. And it appears that the ship now belongs to no one.”
For another long moment, the three regarded each other. Finally, Matt spoke.
“Listen- I’ve got a bum engine and a big ‘ol pile of questions as to what the hell is going on.
Seems to me that we’re shootin’ at the same folks. A friendly port would be appreciated.”
Raddick considered. “Allies in our struggle against the Skulls are always welcome. Is your ship
damaged badly?”
The hunter keyed a few holopanels. Images of the engine assemblies came up, several areas a
dangerous red and yellow.
“Wouldn’t take her to another scrap, but she should make it alright. Where we headin’?”
The Viper’s engines flared, rocketing it away from their view. Raddick’s image cut out, though
his voice was still on audio comms.
“Your sensors won’t detect it until you’re right on top of it. Follow my signal and stay close.”
Matt sat down, manipulating controls and orienting his ship with the Cobra.
“No problem.”
There was a sardonic chuckle, the man’s gravelly voice sounding in their ears.
“A word, outsider: if you betray us, we will use your blood to paint our ships.”
The comms cut out. Matt and Kyndi looked at each other. The hunter shrugged.
“Any port in a storm, I reckon.”
The pair was silent for a moment, contemplative now that they were out of immediate danger.
Kyndi looked with longing eyes out the canopy window. In the distance, the blackened hulk of the
Malmoneta​ could be seen. Her lips pursed themselves.
A hand gripped her shoulder. “I’m sorry, darlin’. Really I am. About your parents. About not
getting to say goodbye. Everything.”
The smuggler took a deep breath, a single tear running down her cheek.
“No. Coming out here was risky, and we knew it. Besides, I got what I wanted...”
Kyndi uncurled her fingers. In her hand was the data disk.
Matt glanced over to his side, nodding. The ​Betrayal’s n​ avigation was linked to that of Raddick’s
Viper. The frameshift drive began its countdown. Kyndi loosened her space suit and reached into the neck
ring.
Her other hand emerged clutching Randy the Raccoon, a bit flattened from being pressed against
her chest but otherwise none the worse for wear. Kyndi’s smile grew sadder as she held him up.
“And even got a piece of my old self back.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The ramp at the fore end of the ​Inevitable Betrayal​ unsealed itself and lowered, gracefully
touching down on the jagged rock upon which it had landed. The ship was inside a crudely-excavated
docking bay, concealed in the side of a mountain. Massive bay doors were already closing, the natural
light from the planet’s dim star already disappearing.

Two sets of flight boots appeared at the top of the ramp. Matt’s brown and Kyndi’s black
accompanied each other as they descended to the rocky surface. They had been warned beforehand to exit
their ship unarmed, a rule that hadn’t sat well with either.

Lehman took a deep breath and looked around, his eyes growing accustomed to the poor lighting
and crude surroundings. Harsh industrial lights illuminated the rocky tunnel, with thick power conduits
running along the walls and ceiling.

“Any port in a storm”, right? How’s that mantra workin’ for you right now?
The space that was ship inhabited wasn’t just a docking bay. It was a warehouse, an armory, and-
judging by the crude row of bunks lined against a rocky wall- a makeshift shelter as well. And it was only
one level of a vast, hidden complex.
As the ship’s engines spooled down, men and women resumed milling around the pair of
outsiders, not disturbing them but not greeting them either. Nearly everyone’s arms were bared- utility
vests and cutoff shirts were the order of the day, snakes of various colors and designs adorning every man
and woman’s exposed limbs. Age seemed to correlate with the intricacy of the ink.
A stern voice called out. “Lehman!”
Matt spun. Approaching them was Marcus Raddick, flanked by a pair of warriors wearing simple
dungarees but with wicked-looking blades in their hands. The man was tall, taller even than the bounty
hunter and easily besting him in terms of build.
The man stopped just a hair closer to his guest than was the norm, the two men locking eyes for
their first in-person meetings. Matt suppressed a gulp. If these people really were a hard-scrabble warrior
culture, showing fear probably wasn’t advisable.
The hunter extended a hand. “Thanks for letting us land.”
Raddick didn’t move, only looking with disdain at Matt’s gesture before lifting his eyes to the
damaged ship.
“You’ll be needing engine parts. And we don’t have many of these...”
Disdain clouded his features as he swept his eyes over the gleaming white Fer-de-Lance.
“... ​luxury​ ships in our fleet. Improvisations will have to be made.”
His face hardening, Matt lowered his hand. “I can pay, partner. Whatever reasonab-”
Raddick cut him off. “We are at war, outsider. Do not speak to me of coin like some thieving
merchant.”
The hunter looked at the bare ground, and then back up.
“You know, momma raised me to wipe my feet before entering someone’s house. I’m tryin’ to do
that here, but-”
He tapped the rocky ground with one toe.
“But I can’t rightly tell the difference between inside and outside ‘round here.”
Raddick’s nostrils flared. The guards at his side raised their blades. Neither man backed down.
Kyndi inserted herself between them, her eyes boring darting back and forth between the two.

“Alright, we get it. You can b​ oth​ unzip and piss a mile. Everyone happy?’
Matt didn’t break eye contact. “I’ll be happy when my ship is flyin’ right and I know what the
hell is going on with y’all and Black Omega.”
And in knowing how much of this has Marra’s fingerprints on it, too.
A look of disdain hardened Raddick’s face.
“And ​I’ll b​ e happy when the future of my people is assured. The Skulls are relentless, and the old
ways are in danger of being stamped out and forgotten. Places like this are meant to remind the youth of
what it means to be in the coils of the Great Serpent.”
The man gestured with a muscular arm, and in the distance was indeed a group of children
huddled around something. They were dressed simply, with long pants and tunics. Their hair was long
and unkempt, allowed to grow wild and obscuring the differences between the boys and girls. Matt and
Kyndi took a few steps towards the scene, their eyes widening.
In the stone floor of the hollowed-out mountain was a small pit, half a man’s height. In its center
was a young man, battle-hardened but with fear in his eyes. He was tied to a thick stone post, stripped to
the waist with his arms behind him. He was the only adult save a silent serpent priest standing amid the
children. Matt blinked again, and saw that each child had coiled around them a snake.
At his command, the children uncoiled the serpents from their bodies and lowered them to the
ground. On their own, the reptiles slithered up to the bound man, circling for a moment before raising
themselves to slide up the post.
The man’s expression intensified to open fear, his face glistening with sweat. Involuntarily, he
kicked away one of the serpents making its way up his calf. The one next to it perceived the threat-
And ​bit.
The man contained his agony for just a second, and then screamed. Other snakes on and around
him detected his fear, slithering up and covering his body ​en mass.​ Fangs unfurled themselves and
plunged deep into his skin, piercing muscle and injecting their venom from a dozen different points.
For a minute, the man simply struggled against his bonds and heaved. Then his movement ceased,
a new look of terror in his eye. His jaw began to tremble, a dozen different poisons surging into his heart.
Matt felt his mouth hardening. So too was Kyndi’s face locked into a stoic gaze, her hand
squeezing his. The pair were trapped into watching; to look away would be to show weakness.
Oh, hell…
The first white drops of foam seeped from the man’s mouth, followed by blood and bile. He
renewed his struggles, but they were the involuntary jerks of a man no longer in control of his body. His
screams were reduced to choked gurgles, the only thing escaping his lips a vomitous mixture of putrid
fluids. The mess ran down his neck and chest, coating a few of the serpents and causing them to fall to the
ground.
The last moments of the condemned man’s life weren’t as a man at all, but of a rabid animal.
Eyes rolled back into his skull. Even his gurgles sounding like feral death moans. His body curled, his
back arching from one great involuntary stiffening before finally going limp, his head hanging lifelessly
downward.
All around him, the children had watched unflinchingly.
Matt turned away, doing his best to hide his revulsion. Raddick looked down upon him with cruel
eyes. The hunter collected himself before speaking.
“And what the hell was ​that?​ Some kind of ritual sacrifice for that Great Serpent of yours?”​

Amusement shown in Raddick’s eyes. “Ritual? No. A captured Skull, departing this world
forever. Child’s play.”

Matt glanced to the grisly scene. Already the children were squatted down, collecting their pet
snakes. The priest continued his silent vigil, watching them with unblinking eyes.

“Child’s play,” he said. “Right.”
From with the man’s vest, a comm device chirped. He checked it before putting it away.
“You are expected. Come.”
The pair of newcomers followed their towering host before he turned, blocking Kyndi’s path.
“Not you,” he said. “The Elder only speaks with fellow warriors. She must remain here.”
Both Matt and Kyndi opened their mouths to protest, but she was the quicker of the two.
“I don’t know who you think you are, snakearms- but n​ o​ one tells me where I can and can’t go.”
For being a man of such obvious physical power, Raddick didn’t become upset or defensive.
Rather, he gazed upon the fiery, purple-haired woman with intelligent eyes.
“And no one is,” he said. “You are our guest, free to walk the facility and learn of our ways.”
Matt stepped in between them, his eyes narrowing. “Reckon she’s learned e​ nough​ of your ways.”
Raddick turned, the first traces of irony in his tone.
“The Great Serpent’s den is hard for its enemies but soft for its allies. She will be unharmed and
shown every hospitality.”
Behind him, the lifeless body of the Omega remained slumped over on its post, bile and blood
hanging from its lips in long stings.
“After all,” he said, “we are not savages.”

What the hell kind of place is this?
The corridors of the Gold Crew’s installation were blasted from stone, but as Raddick led the
hunter into the uppermost parts of the complex, the walls transitioned from crude rock to smooth, covered
from floor to ceiling with ornately painted images. The larger man was moving at a swift pace, and so
Lehman caught only glimpses of his surroundings.
Spaceships, giant bugs, some big ass snake protecting folks from harm- what have I gotten myself
into?
The surroundings gradually became more of what one would find in the bubble, and the lighting
transitioned from crude industrial to something more suited to a habitation area. Rough-looking men and
women with snakes on their arms continued to pass by, but a few men in more monkish garb could also
be seen. Matt recognized them as being the same priests as the one who was tending the children.
Matt’s face twisted into an ill-concealed scowl. ​Goddamn barbarians, raising children to torture
and kill. It ain’t right.

Raddick stopped, gesturing to a large double door made of old-growth wood and iron. It was
mounted on old-style hinges. Like everything else about the place, it seemed from another era entirely.

“In here. The Elder will decide the Great Serpent’s use for you and your... friend. I hope you will
trust to our hospitality, such as it is. Not many outsiders are granted an audience with an Elder.”

Without another word, the tattooed man turned and left, leaving Matt alone in front of the door.
The hunter watched him leave for a moment.

Hospitality, my ass. I could use a warm bunk and a stiff drink right about now.
Smoothing his leather jacket, Matt gripped the massive iron handle- and pulled.
Brilliant light flooded into the dimly-lit corridor. Before Matt was a long, ornately carved stone
table and backlit murals of serpents surrounding him. On the table was a ceramic jug, with a pair of
simple stone cups beside it.
At the far end of the table was a man, older but with hard eyes and grey hair that had once been
blond. Like Raddick, he remained powerfully muscled, losing none of his commanding presence to age.
Flanking him was a pair of adolescents, a boy and girl with the simple green snakes of a novice coiling
down their arms. Sitting at his side was a serpent priest, thin and pale with a shorn scalp. He, not the
Elder, acknowledged the newcomer’s presence.
“Close the door and sit.”
Matt narrowed his eyes. Something about the priest had seemed off. Though he shared the same
neo-Teutonic accent as the rest of the Gold Crew, there was an audible lisp to his speech, a breathiness
that gave his words an air of menace.
The hunter pushed the door shut, hearing a heavy ​click​ as the old-style iron lock latched into
place. With some hesitation he sat at the stone slab, undoubtedly carved from the same rock as the rest of
the room.
With a flick of his finger, the priest signalled for one of the attendants. Without a word, the boy
stepped forth, his eyes calmly boring into Matt’s as he poured a dark red liquid into the cup. With graceful
steps he set the vessel before the guest, nodding almost imperceptibly and taking his old place. The
adolescent girl had done the same for the Elder.
The older man gripped the stone cup with powerful, thick fingers and raised it to Matt.
“To the shedding of the past and the growth of the new scales.”
Nodding, Matt raised his cup. ​Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.
The liquid was cold, but not unpleasant. It was a sangria wine, growing bitter as it washed down
his throat. A fiery warmth built within Matt’s belly as the substance settled, and-
What the hell is in this piss?
Lehman had to set down his cup and exhale to avoid groaning. The fiery sensation faded as soon
as it flared, leaving the hunter feeling none the worse for wear.
The serpent priest grinned, relishing Matt’s reaction. His voice was soft, like a hiss.
“Njikas venonwine,” he explained. “The only thing a real warrior drinks.”
Matt blinked, not only from the insinuation as to his status but from the unexpected sight at
seeing the man speak. His tongue had been split down the middle, exactly like-
The hunter looked around himself. ​A snake. Goddamn of course a snake.
Gripping the cup, Lehman held it up in salute.
“If your folks are anything like this, you’ve got this war against the Omegas in the bag, I reckon.”
For a long time, the Elder said nothing. His eyes remained serious.

“I am Albrecht Kane. It is the Great Serpent’s will that I lead this enclave.”
Matt nodded. “Lehman. Matthew Victor Lehman. Looks like it’s the Great Serpent’s will that I
say howdy to your enclave.”
“Indeed.”
An uncomfortable moment passed between them. Matt shifted in his seat, sipping his cup of wine.
“Look- I ain’t here to cause to trouble. We just want some answers.”
The priest leaned forward, his eyes cunning.
“Many claim that they seek knowledge, only to be broken by the truth. That i​ s​ why you are here,
is it not?”
Irritated, Matt looked at the split-tongued man sideways.
“Why we’re here ain’t your concern- besides, ain’t y’all got bigger problems than little ol’ us?
I’ve seen Black Omega in action. No offense, but that Great Serpent of yours better start coughing up
some reinforcements if you want them kids in the docking bay to ever have their own ink.”
The priest’s nostrils flared at hearing his deity spoken of so dismissively, but the Elder didn’t
react. Instead, he took his cup and rose from his seat, tracing a finger along one of the serpent designs.
With a wave of his hand, a holographic screen shimmered into view. On it was security footage of where
the B​ etrayal ​was landed, common people milling around it. The pit where the Omega pilot had been
killed was now empty, the bare stone post awaiting its next victim.
“You touch it with a needle, outsider. When I told you that it was the Great Serpent’s will that I
lead this enclave, it was not a boast. Rather, I was lamenting the burden of having so many lives in my
hands.”
Kane turned, his eyes hard. “And you are correct. We will need more than piety if the children
you witnessed are to ever receive their first serpents. But you overlooked one thing: the Great Serpent has
already​ sent help.”
Matt scoffed. “Yeah? Who?”
Two sets of eyes fixed their gaze upon the hunter.
Slowly, Matt’s mouth opened, his head starting to shake.
“Aw… h​ ell​ no. I ain’t here to sign up for your damn war. It ain’t got nothing to do with me.”
Amusement glinted in the Elder’s eyes.
“The Skulls meant to strand you, and then make off with your ship. The war has a​ lready ​touched
you. What songs will your children sing if you flee from your true self?”
Exhaling, Matt shook his head.
“Ain’t ​got​ any children, pal. And m​ y​ true self is gettin’ the hell out of Dodge with my ladyfriend
at my side. I’m sick of fighting wars that ain’t mine.”
The two men locked eyes. Albrecht Kane didn’t engage in the same kind of staredown as
Raddick; his sense of statesmanship prevented it.
“You are not telling me everything, outsider. If you’ve seen the Skulls fight, then you are no mere
Bubble tourist in a fancy ship.”
Looking up, he gestured to the priest and the pair of attendants.
“Leave us.”
With a bow, the others left, shutting the door behind them. Satisfied that they were alone,
Albrecht took Matt’s cup, refilling it himself with more of the noxious venomwine. He gestured for his
guest to sit, a request and not a command.

His gaze softened, and for a moment he appeared as he was: a weary old man, tired of his
responsibilities and fearful for those in his charge.

“Let us talk, you and I. Simply, directly- as men. Then we shall see what is and isn’t your war.”
Matt looked behind himself to the shut door, wondering if Kane’s request was truly that. He
forced a grin as he held up his newly-filled cup.
“Buddy,” he said, “‘Simple’ is my middle name.”

Free to walk the facility,​ Kyndi thought. ​Let’s put that to the test.
Crude scaffolding had been erected next to the B​ etrayal’s​ damaged engine nacelle, and those
members of the Gold Crew who possessed the know-how were already busy at work repairing the ship by
hand. Crude wooden cranes were on-hand to replace the parts too heavy to lift, and, though they were by
no means a trained repair bay crew, Kyndi marvelled at the efficiency with which they worked.
Yet the woman wasn’t one for waiting, and a lifetime of watching other people betray their
intentions with the slightest nonverbal slip convinced her that their hosts were making a good-faith effort
to help them. Thus did Kyndi Jane McCaskill face that most unlikely of problems: boredom.
There was no lounge, no recreation, no herb- she had some in the ship, but the thought of lighting
up in front of such a dour crowd seemed rude. These were a people at war, and the face of every man and
woman who she passed was focused and resolute. There was no mindless laughter from the woman or
leering glances from the men. Truly they were a culture that disdained weakness and frivolity.
Well, they can have their virtuous workmanship,​ she thought. ​Some of us like to relax once in
awhile.
The smuggler made her way deeper into the installation, the corridors becoming more like rocky
tunnels. She felt that she was descending, though she had no frame of reference except a vague notion of
walking downhill. At any moment, she was expecting one of the snakearms to stop her and order her back
to the docking bay, but no such interaction happened.
The tunnels were getting progressively more dimly lit, and foot traffic was thinning out. With her
Bubble-dwelling clothes and purple hair, Kyndi was attracting her share of looks but remained otherwise
unimpeded.
Maybe that Raddick guy was right,​ she thought. H​ ate absolutely, trust absolutely. An entire tribe
of noble savage simpletons.
“Are you lost?”
Kyndi spun. Standing a short distance away was a woman, olive-skinned and attractive but with
hard eyes. She was wearing a cloak, concealing her body beneath a long tunic. Swallowing, Kyndi flashed
her most innocent smile and gestured around herself.
“I’m a, uh- friend. Just got in from fighting some of those-”

What were the locals calling them?
“-Skulls, and my partner’s ship took a beating. So we’re holed up here for the time being.”
The woman nodded, a look of understanding in her face.
“First time here?”
Kyndi maintained her smile. “It is. You could say that we’re from out of town.”
The woman didn’t smile back, though her eyes shone with amusement.
“Then you will need a guide. This place winds and twists, like giant ants burrowed these tunnels
and not our ancestors.”
Not knowing what else to do, Kyndi extended her hand.
“Kyndi.”
The first traces of a smile lifted the woman’s lips. “Ranja. But you’ll forgive me.”
Her shoulder twisted, and a stump emerged from the cloak. It was like her other arm, muscular
and tattooed- but ending abruptly at the elbow.
“I was part of a raiding crew, boarding and looting Skull ships. One such raid turned out to be
against a troop transport. One of their Enforcers raised a plasma rifle and burned my arm clean off.”
Kyndi swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
Ranja’s gaze sharpened. “Not as sorry as h​ e​ was. He needed two hands for his rifle- but my blade
required only one. The walls were slick with his blood by the time I finished. Without gravity, it gets
everywhere.”​
“And what is it you do now?”
A pair of dark eyebrows raised. “Now? Now I assist the priests and those undergoing the
Shedding. I also have an eye to the future.”
Kyndi’s brow furrowed.
“What do you mean?”
Ranja took one of Kyndi’s hands and guided it to her abdomen. Though small, the lump beneath
her tunic was unmistakable. The woman’s lips curled into a grin.
“My mate looked upon my maimed arm and saw in me his warrior woman. He took me into our
bed at once, and the Great Serpent honored my devotion with a child, our third. It is for their future that
we fight.”
The smuggler pulled her hand away. “And they say chivalry is dead.”
A peculiar expression crossed Ranja’s face. She looked at Kyndi, her eyes on her chest and belly.
“You do not have children.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. There was no sense in hiding a woman-to-woman truth, so
Kyndi shrugged.
“It was never for me. I’m not exactly the type to settle down.”
Amusement returned to Ranja’s eye. “There is nothing settling about little ones. But nothing else
teaches you the meaning of love or sacrifice quite as well. Almost.”
Kyndi’s eyes narrowed. “‘Almost’?”
Ranja’s expression deepened. “You have not heard of the Shedding ritual, have you?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
The woman was silent for a moment, as though weighing whether to speak further to an outsider.
“The Shedding is the greatest and cruellest gift that the Great Serpent can bestow. It is pain and
joy. It is power and helplessness. It is dying and rebirth.”

Irritation contorted Kyndi’s features, a mocking tone seeping into her voice. “It’s vague and
cryptic, more like.”

Ranja didn’t become upset. Instead, she took Kyndi by the hand.
“There is nothing secretive about the ritual. The Great Serpent wishes that those who undergo it
be viewed as an example to all. It is a thing that cannot be described- only witnessed.”
Her hand tightened around her guest’s, her eyes sharpening.
“Tell me, friend Kyndi- would you like to witness it?”
The smuggler had to suppress a gulp, smiling in acquiescence.
You and your big mouth.

Matt tilted the cup back against his lips, his eyes distant.
“And so here we are, her trip and my ship ruined by those Omega goons.”
Albrecht Kane nodded slowly. “The Great Serpent ever sheds the skin of the past- but the
shedding is seldom a painless one.”
Lehman nodded. ​Wish I knew what the hell that was supposed to mean.
“Yeah, well- if there’s something in that ship’s logs that’ll give her some peace, it’ll be worth it.”
Kane slowly nodded. “Peace. What does that mean to you? To her? Is it something that ever
lasts?”
Lehman looked down. “Reckon not. But we’re gonna try. And lord God knows that Kyndi’s due
for some.”
Amusement danced in the man’s eyes. “Is that her name? Kin-dee?”
The sound of his accented enunciation might normally have been humorous, but there was
nothing light-hearted in the way that he spoke.
“You’re a fool if you think that peace can be bought with a single action. And you’re a fool if you
think that it comes of running away. Even with a beauty like her.”
The hunter let out a long exhale, his voice taking an edge.
“Now, I don’t like drinkin’ a man’s wine and then disagreein’ with him- but we ​ain’t​ runnin’
away. Just… starting over.”
Kane nodded, his every movement a gesture of wisdom.
“It is of starting over that I wish to speak. I will be honest with you, outsider- more honest than I
am with my war captains. Unless a treaty is signed, we are destined to lose this war and all that we hold
dear. Action must be taken.”
Matt’s eyes narrowed. “What k​ ind​ of action?”
Albrecht’s eyes grew distant. “Pegasi has been our home for many years. We fight to defend it-
but if the Njikas Gold Crew is to live, our destiny must lay elsewhere.”

The man took a sip of wine, the fiery liquid settling to his stomach. He held out a hand- aged but
strong, unencumbered by the usual wasting of advancing years.

“A tree’s roots may be strong, but strong roots will not save it from the fire. A younger seed may
be carried away by the wind, however.”

Matt stared into his cup. It was empty, and his head spinning slightly.
“And I’m guessing that once my ship is fixed up, ​I’m​ the wind?”
Kane nodded. “A secret fleet is being prepared. A large one, headed by an Anaconda. It will be
filled with provisions, building supplies, weapons, valuable metals- all the things that a small group of
people will need to start over. But it is missing something. A child. The granddaughter of the Elder behind
the exodus. The one who will one day lead our people.”
There was an uneasy silence between the men. “I seem to recall being told that only a fool thinks
that peace comes from running away.”
Albrecht Kane drew himself up to his full height, his presence stern.
“And I seem to recall being young and unafraid to reject the warnings of old men.”
Doubt and hesitation crept into Matt’s heart.
First a run-in with Marra’s goons, and now I’m gettin’ roped into playin’ babysitter for a bunch
of murderous snake worshippers. Ain’t there anything normal that happens in this sector?

For the second time in as many weeks, Kyndi Jane McCaskill’s stomach was turning.
I swear to God, if I vomit again…
Before her, in a chamber that resembled being surrounded by a giant, coiled snake was a woman,
her long raven hair obscuring her face. She was pale and lean, naked above the crude skirt that covered
her thighs. She was on her knees, on an elevated slab of smooth, flat stone, head hanging down and only
semi-conscious.
If she was aware of their presence, she didn’t acknowledge it. Her arms were raised like a cross to
her sides, darkened in shadow and held up by thick iron chains. Kyndi followed the links, her eyes
drifting upward until it beheld a massive sculpture of a serpent’s head, the chains anchored into the sides
of a hood in full flare, the reptile looking cruelly down at the woman before it. Clear plastic medical
tubing led into the woman’s arms, thick fluid seeping steadily into her system.
Kyndi swallowed, her heart pounding.
What the hell is happening? What the hell kind of people does something like this?
“Beautiful, isn’t it? Such exquisite suffering.”
The smuggler turned to her side. Ranja’s voice had dropped to a low, reverent tone, her eyes
looking at the hunched-over form with an almost sexual intensity. Without taking her eyes off of her, she
took Kyndi’s hand and led her closer.
The smuggler, too, was unable to take her eyes from the grisly scene before her. Details of the
woman’s arms appeared amid the shadows. Kyndi’s eyes grew wider, her breath stopping. The woman’s
arms were… t​ ransparent.
No,​ the smuggler thought. N​ ot transparent. But if I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing...

Muscle, fat, and raw nerves of the woman’s limb were exposed in the open air. Pale, webby skin
was growing outward from where the tubes were inserted.

Kyndi’s lip trembled. ​It can’t be…
In a cold, sinking epiphany, the smuggler realized the true depth of the woman’s suffering.
Something​ had happened to the skin of her arms and shoulders, and it was slowly regrowing from the
regen drugs being fed into her system. But that wasn’t all. She couldn’t lay down without subjecting her
skinned arms to inhuman pain, and couldn’t hold anything with her skinless fingers. She was never
touched except when an attendant fed or bathed her by hand. While she healed, the woman was an infant
and a prisoner, her very survival dependent on those like Ranja. Hers was a personal hell of never truly
sleeping, never seeing anything except the massive serpent sculpture above her, looking down into the
woman’s very s​ oul…
Kyndi took an involuntary step back, her stomach churning. Her breath was coming in short, brief
gasps, as though the pale woman might wake and look up from her miserable stupor if too much noise
was made. One hand gripped the data discs within her jacket.
Ranja’s hand tightened around Kyndi’s. Her voice was a reverent whisper.
“She is like you, you know. An outsider, childless but cunning. A better pilot I have never seen,
and she is an artist with the razorwhip. This was her first Shedding, long overdue. She did not cry out, did
not weep or curse or faint like so many others. Even when they showed her the bloody skin from her own
arms, she recited the words of praise for the Great Serpent flawlessly. It has been an honor to attend her.”
Kyndi, too, was transfixed even as her mind revolted against what she heard.
Skinned alive, and told it was an honor. Kept awake, kept kneeling, in constant pain and with only
that giant snarling snake for company.
Her heart beat faster. ​Are things like this the reason that Matt is never quite right when he gets
back from Pegasi? What has he been holding inside himself?
“And this… is an ​honor?”
Ranja nodded, her words solemn.
“As I said- the greatest and cruellest gift that the Great Serpent can bestow. For a brief while, one
becomes as the Great Serpent- shedding the skin of the past so that their scales might toughen and
beautify. Those who are nominated for the honor are examples to us all.”
Kyndi shook her head, finally tearing herself away from the grisly scene.
“How… how did this start? The war, I mean.”
Ranja took a last look at the hunched-over woman before them, taking Kyndi’s hand and leading
her from the chamber.
“Have you ever been betrayed, friend Kyndi? Not just a deal that didn’t work out. I mean
betrayed-​ all your hopes and dreams put into the hands of one person- and then destroyed?”
Darkness clouded the smuggler’s features. “Only by fate. And I learned the lesson well.”
The native woman nodded, leading Kyndi along the stone corridors. For the first time, she noticed
images and shapes along the stone walls, carved from the rock itself.
How old is this place?
“Would you believe that the Skulls were our allies once? They are newcomers to this sector, or at
least their leadership is. But many have flocked to them, and once-disparate clans are again united under
their banner. We were to join them in common cause, our ways of life protected as times ever change.”

Kyndi ran her hand along the rough stone carvings. Before her were great carvings of serpents
and men and women, of conquests and defeats. Sometimes the serpent consumed some great threat in its
jaws, and other times unworthy leaders were sacrificed to atone for some mistake or another.

“So what went wrong?”
Venom crept into Ranja’s tone. “Our envoy. Wolfgang Teilhard was his name. He was the son of
the same Elder who is sponsoring the exodus fleet, and loved by all. He was a rising champion, a great
warrior with the intellect to match. We sent him to speak on behalf of the Inner Circle and all who wear
the serpents.”
The smuggler turned to her new acquaintance. “And?”
“And he betrayed us. Agreed to ruinous terms that would see our warriors posted far from home,
as Skull lapdogs. An annual tribute of credits and recruits. And their damned Enforcers walking our
sanctuaries, defiling sacred places like this.”
Kyndi shook her head. “What happened then?”
“The Elders acted swiftly. Wolfgang’s own father gave the purge order himself, the words
breaking his heart but his resolve strengthened by the Great Serpent. A team was sent, attacking and
crippling the envoy’s ship, slaying the traitor and all loyal to him. Before he died, he watched as the
symbols of his favor were peeled from his arms.”
Kyndi paused, grimacing. “Like… back there?”
Ranja nodded. “Yes. Except it was a punishment. A punishment meted out by the very warrior
you just saw.”
The two women resumed walking. “From there, it was war. Early on we sacrificed our capital
city, taking a great many Skulls with it. But they are resilient, and much blood has been spilt since. Now
we reside in sanctuaries such as this, hidden and trusting to the Great Serpent for victory.”
The smuggler said nothing, only taking a moment to process everything she’d seen and heard.
Her hand drifted to her jacket, thumbing the data discs through the fabric. Some of the blood that her new
friend had mentioned had been spilled before her eyes.
And for what?
“And this war? Is there no end in sight?”
Ranja shot her companion a cunning glance.
“One way or another, the skin of these times will be shed.”

Work continued on the ​Betrayal’s e​ ngine nacelle. The Gold Crew had access to an aging
industrial fabricator, and was able to reproduce rough approximations of the lost parts and hull plating. It
wasn’t Zorgon-Peterson spec, of course- but it was far better than a smoking thruster and wobbly
handling.

Matt was leaning against a rocky wall, thinking about all he’d agreed to do. He had no love for
Black Omega, especially after they’d so blithely opened fire on his ship. But that didn’t concern him. It
was a dangerous path he was on, one that would only become more so if Marra found him out.

Events from his past encounters with the woman played out in his head.
All that horseshit I went through last time, all the mind games and sabotage just to keep Kyndi
safe. And now here I am with her on the other side of their next war. Reckon that wouldn’t go over well.
Not knowing what else to do, Lehman went for a walk. He was a clear outsider, leather jacket and
flight trousers contrasting against the simple garments of those around him. The installation seemed to
have been burrowed with little regard for a central plan, crude plumbing and lighting providing the bare
essentials.
People milled around him, serpent-armed men and women going about their business. Already,
there were some who were rising from rows of bunkbeds on the far side of the bay, others wearily laying
down in their places. They looked to be resting areas more than anything, providing a place for
overworked men and women with technical skill a few hours respite from their never-ending work.
A larger chamber revealed a commons area, with a small waterfall diverted to provide a natural,
public shower for the row of nude men and woman who bathed in its waters. There was very little concept
of bodily modesty among the clansfolk, at least when it came to hygiene. A few of those cleansing
themselves amid the throng looked to be of adolescent age, but even among mixed genders, eyes kept
impassively to themselves or on the serpented arms of the adults near them. Leering at forbidden anatomy
seemed a foreign concept, even among the hormone-driven youth.
The hunter walked on, silently observing how the families lived. Like bathing, everyday life was
more often than not a communal endeavor. Fusion generators powered sprawling kitchen lines, the
occasional holoscreen being watched by clusters of people. An elderly man walked with some haste into a
darkened alcove, emerging a short while later with a look of contentment on his face. Higher up, couples
and families bundled, sleeping soundly not far from the bustle below.
Matthew Victor Lehman was from an independent world, though his time in the Imperial Navy
and subsequent stint with the Chapterhouse had taught him to be keenly aware of social class. What he
saw around him was the opposite of the Imperial culture to which he’d become accustomed. Pomp and
finery and honeyed words were par for the course in even the middle classes of the Empire. Lehman had
often counted himself fortunate that he’d never risen in the Chapterhouse enough to be invited to an
Imperial ball, or expected to marry into a “proper” family. The crisp accent of those around him was the
no-nonsense opposite of the soft Achenarian speech, where the old saying that a proper Imperial “never
uses four words when seven will do” was unfortunately true.
No, the speech and habits of the Gold Crew were a reflection of the people themselves. Here was
a society that had no room for pretense or frivolity; where actions spoke and words whispered. The hunter
looked up to the open-air slumber pits. In the distance a young couple was engaged in urgent, intimate
coitus, the snakes of their arms locked around the other. Not far away other couples relaxed or slept,
ignoring them. Lehman swallowed, the peaceful domesticity of the scene contrasting against the memory
of children watching impassively as their pet snakes sent a captured soldier to a tortured death.

Hell,​ he thought. J​ ust when you think you’ve seen it all, Pegasi’s got another curveball ready to
throw at you.

The hunter pressed on, deeper into the living levels. He passed more of what he’d seen, masses of
people relaxing or eating or sleeping. But the corridors narrowed, the smooth stone once again becoming
rough and unhewn. A familiar scent wrinkled his nose- the sour odor of sweat and dirt and straining,
trapped underground. A short while later, the grunts and yells of young men and women echoed through
the rocky halls.

Like boot camp,​ he thought. E​ xcept with these folks, the fun never ends.
Lehman rounded a corner, a massive sunken pit arrayed before him. It was illuminated with harsh
industrial lighting, and everything he’d expected to see played out before him. Men and women were
paired off, wrestling and boxing and fighting and cursing as they struggled to gain some advantage.
Others were practicing with the massive blades that he’d seen carried by the two guards flanking Raddick.
The hunter looked just in time to see a young woman swing her weapon, decapitating a tied-up cow and
drenching herself with its blood. She held the weapon aloft, a war cry escaping her lips.
Lehman shook his head. R​ eckon that’s one way to bring home dinner.
Sitting and laying not far away were several other warriors-in-training, their bodies sporting cuts
and bruises. One unfortunate lad’s knee was bent at an unnatural angle, air being sucked in and out
between clenched teeth. An older man was applying salves and splints to various injuries, but they were
clearly an expected part of combat training.
On the far side of the arena were three others, spaced a good distance apart but weilding a weapon
that Matt had never seen. It looked to be a metallic whip, a silvery streak that coiled through the air when
it could be seen at all. One young man and two young women were stripped to the waist, blood flowing
from wounds that had no doubt been accidentally self-inflicted. One woman’s eyes focused, delivering a
precision lash to a stone bust. The weighted tip pierced the target squarely in its eye, splitting the rock into
two halves. A satisfied look relaxed her face, her torn flesh made more bearable by the gradual
accumulation of skill.
Lehman shook his head. ​Goddamned whips that can crack through rock. What the hell is it like to
face these people in combat?
A few curious eyes were beginning to fix themselves on the newcomers. Lehman turned and
exited the room, not wanting to draw attention to himself.
Run of the place or not, there’s a whole heap of trouble a man can get into if he doesn’t know the
score. Best to stay with the ship.
Walking back seemed to take longer. Once again Lehman was surrounded by masses of people,
eating and working and sleeping and living as a collective whole. A low thrum of human voices combined
to form a sort of ever-present static in his ears. It was a way of living that fascinated and repelled the man.
Privacy and solitude had been staples of his life since he’d embarked on his career as a pilot. Sure, he’d
had company when he wanted, but-
A frown spread over his face. Though he was ashamed to play the voyeur, the hunter glanced up
again to the same young couple who’d before been in the throes of carnal exertion. Now, they were
drifting off to sleep, the woman in her mate’s serpented arms. His hand was caressing her flat belly, a
smile on her lips from whatever he was whispering into her ear.

Lehman looked down at his boots. The man looked to be the same age that he’d been as a
newly-winged pilot, but his own encounters had been far more transactional than the intimate scene in the
distance. A hollow feeling spread within him.

Sure was fun at the time, wasn’t it? But look at ‘em. That’s a pair who’d take a laser bolt for each
other without hesitation. Think that any of them hundred-credit dock-knockers would so the same for you?
Or you for them?

The man continued walking, passing by and ignoring those around him.
And what about the others? Yeah, you’ve had some good times- but was there anyone out there
who could stand you for longer than a job or two?
Faces and names flashed in his vision. Tatianna from Pilot’s Fed academy, Tanith Low and her
hunt for Vex, Nova Cassidy and the times they’d had-
The ​Inevitable Betrayal ​came into view, a great white reminder of where he’d come from amid
the grey and brown of the installation’s interior. His face hardened.
Jemine. Jemine Caesar. That one had felt real. But then she went home to some other guy.
Probably ain’t thought about you since. And Marra. Goddamned Marra. That’s one you could do
without.
In the end, there was only one face that emerged from the rest. Smartassed eyes and purple hair
and cocked hips danced in his mind’s eye. And her lips....
Matt smirked. S​ miling her Kyndi smile. Ain’t no other way to put it.
The man’s mind focused, still a little overcome at all the humanity he’d witnessed. Kyndi had
been a closed book, not even telling him- or anyone, for that matter- her full name. But they’d persevered
and bonded after a fashion, and-
Lehman shook his head. A​ nd she pulled your ass out of a slave mine on that damn fool quest to
save Katie. And then you did what you had to do to get her off of Marra’s hook.
More thoughts of Kyndi played out in his mind, but not the fleshy ones of when they’d first met.
In fact, he didn’t think of her at all. He thought of her flightsuit, hanging next to his. It had been a gift, a
promise and a test. In a way, it was Kyndi’s next step from telling him her full name, as close to a
relationship as either of them had ever entered. And then she’d tracked him down at his own party,
revealing her own fears and vulnerability by asking for his help.
Matt thumbed the wing logo on his collar. To wear one like it was the holy grail for indy pilots,
the culmination of their careers. From here, Lehman could find work anywhere, practically naming his
own price. He’d be a celebrity, an icon of envy and rumor. And what was he doing?
He released the pin, resuming his walk toward his ship.
Gettin’ involved in some clan war, and mopin’ on about the woman who paralysed your ass the
first time you worked together. And after that? Pissing away the most lucrative part of your career to live
out of a hab shelter in Colonia. And what’ll you do there? Run parts and rations between the settlements.
Maybe play deputy on some isolated outpost. Shit surroundings, shit food, and shit accommodations.
In the distance emerged a pair of figures. Flowing purple hair and a tight flight jacket made it
clear who was also coming back. Walking next to her was a cloaked young woman Matt hadn’t seen
before. They turned to each other, exchanged a few words, and exchanged a quick embrace.
Matt’s heart beat a little harder at the sight of his lover.
But as long as she’s there next to me, it’ll be the best move I’ve ever made.

CHAPTER FIVE

“You agreed to ​what?”
Matt held up his hands. There’d been no telling what Kyndi would think of the job. Now, he
knew.
“It’s just a taxi gig. Pick up the kid, bring her here- done!”
Kyndi turned, balling up her fist. They were again in the B​ etrayal’s​ living area, work having
stopped on repairs for the night. It was estimated that the ship would be ready the following morning. It
would behoove them to get some sleep.
“In the middle of a w​ ar zone!”
Lehman shook his head. The woman across from him was trembling with anger. She turned, her
eyes blazing and holding up an accusing finger.
“Matty, you…” She bit her lips and squeezed her eyes shut. “You have ​got​ to learn to say ‘no’
once in awhile. Just once. Just to see how it goes.”
The hunter shook his head. “Well, what the hell was I s​ upposed t​ o say? ‘Yeah, y’all pulled us out
of a jam and are fixin’ up my ship, but I’m just not in the helpin’ mood’?”
The woman scowled, frustration twisting her mouth.
“Do you ​know​ what I saw today? Down there in some cave while you and that old man were
having a glass of wine? Do you ​know​ what these people are capable of?”
Lehman held out his hands. “Reckon I ​do,​ darlin’. Or did you miss that poor asshole gettin’ eaten
by a bunch of kids’ snakes?”
“And that makes you want to ​work​ with them?”
Matt tapped his temple, pacing back and forth.
“It makes me want to n​ ot​ get on their bad side!”
The smuggler seethed, shaking her head. Her voice dropped, her words taking on a waver.
“All we have to do…” she said, motioning towards the docking bay doors, “is ​leave. ​Boom.
Done. Gone. These people live in caves, Matty- they’d never track us to Colonia.”
Lehman shook his head. “It ain’t about that. It’s about a little girl who needs our help.”
A sneer spread across Kyndi’s face. “Oh. That’s right. You’re Elite now, aren’t you? Gotta wear
that suit of white armor to go with that fancy pin, huh? Or is rescuing little girls just a side gig so that you
can sleep at night?’
Matt took a step back. “Darlin’... don’t.”
The sneer on Kyndi’s face turned into a look of contempt. “ ‘Don’t’? Don’t you ​get ​it? Can’t you
see? These people aren’t worth saving. They’re savages. They take their best and they torture them. Force
them into some freak show of a ritual and force them to suffer alone. Forget the girl, Matty.”

Anger and confusion twisted Matt’s features. “Alone? ​These p​ eople? Reckon’ you’ve been hittin’
the o-head a little hard to believe ​that.​ Savages or not, there’s a little girl out there who needs us.”

His voice dropped, and he looked down at his feet before again raising his head.
“Figured you’d at least understand t​ hat.​ ”
For a long moment, neither said anything to the other, feelings running too hot for words.
A single tear ran down Kyndi’s hardened face. “You don’t know,” she said. “You don’t know
what being out here has been like for me.”
She turned to exit the stateroom, and Matt followed her. She spun, the tears now flowing.
“Where was ​my​ pretty white ship to whisk me away when I needed it?”
“Darlin’, I-”
Pain enveloped her eyes.
“D​ on’t​ follow me.”
The smuggler stormed off, stalking down the corridor. Matt stood, surrounded by beauty and
luxury. He looked down at his feet, not knowing quite what to do.
At the other end of the ship, he heard a scream of anger, followed by a loud thump.
The hunter looked up, wondering if those outside the ship had heard it.
Oh, hell…

Slumped over in the co-pilot’s seat was Kyndi Jane McCaskill. Her face had mellowed into
something more placid, mundane ship’s information scrolling past her face on the holoscreen. Her eyes
simply glazed over the data, staring past it. She absentmindedly balled and unballed a fist. A few of her
knuckles were missing some skin.

The doors to the bridge slid open, and Matt toed into the space. On the wall above the holoport
was a small smear of blood. Sighing, he looked down, and then to the woman sprawled over the seat. For
a long moment, both were silent. Then Kyndi rolled her head to one side, too spent to summon any further
disdain.

“You know, I spent this whole night thinking that you were a fool for agreeing to the job.”
Matt took a step towards her. “So I gathered.”
The smuggler held up her hand. The blood had dried, and there was almost no pain.
“But now I’m thinking that I​ ​ was the fool.”
Lehman’s eyes narrowed, looking at his companion at an angle. It wasn’t often that she admitted
fault.
“Come again?”
The bloodied hand opened the woman’s flight jacket, gesturing to its inner pocket. She spoke
simply, in a tone of defeat.
“The data discs. They’re gone. I went for a long walk today. Thought I made a friend, saw things
I never wanted to see again, and then-”

Kyndi shrugged. “And then they were gone. It was Ranja. It had to be. When she hugged me
goodbye.”

“Who?”
The woman exhaled. “Ranja. The woman you saw me with. I should have known better. M​ e,
getting pickpocketed. Talk about losing your edge, huh?”
Lehman’s face hardened. The M​ almonetta w​ as destroyed, and the discs the only legacy from
Kyndi’s parents that she would ever have. And if they were gone…
“The ship won’t be ready until morning. I’ll talk to the Elder. I’m sure that-”
Kyndi’s gaze sharpened. “I​ ’m​ sure that they needed an insurance policy to make sure that this
little girl gets rescued. And I’m sure they won’t think twice about lashing us both to that post for next
time those kids’ snakes get hungry if we try to dictate terms.”
“Right.”
Kyndi rubbed her temples with a trembling hand. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow. Get some
sleep.”
“What about you?”
Kyndi let out a weak chuckle, holding up Randy the Raccoon.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m as protected as anyone can be in this place.”

Matt awoke with a stretch, a familiar presence pressed against him, flowing purple hair inches
from his face. The hunter wiped the sleep from his eyes and rose, padding to the room’s head and then to
the kitchen. He returned with a steaming cup of coffee, looking at the woman in his bed.

Whereas Kyndi had been curled up to Matt, Randy the Raccoon was in turn clutched in her arms.
Per her habit, the smuggler had slept nude, the stuffed animal nestled against her breasts.

Her eyes opened, her old affectionate self having returned.
“Hey.”
Matt squatted down, level with her.
“Hey.”
The hunter brushed back some of her hair.
“Doing okay?”
The woman shrugged, still a little sleepy.
“Well enough. You?”
Matt smirked.
“Not as well as that damn raccoon.”
That​ made Kyndi grin. Matt exhaled.
If you can make her smile, she probably ain’t still pissed at you.
“He’s always been there for me. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
Matt leaned in, his lips pressing against hers. Kyndi pulled him in with one arm before the hunter
broke the kiss.

“Does that mean we’re still on for Colonia?”
Kyndi nodded. “The further away we get from places like this, the better. And when the time
comes, let m​ e ​do the talking. You’d probably just pull some stupid stunt to impress me.”
Another grin. Another kiss. One of Matt’s eyebrows lifted.
“But it w​ ould​ impress you, right?’
Kyndi hit him over the head with a pillow, laughing. Matt kissed her deeply, pushing the stuffed
animal out of the way to caress a breast. While his tongue explored hers, it occurred to him that she felt
different, an almost chalky residue coating her skin-
“Not now, silly!”
Kyndi pushed him away, grinning and rolling out of the bed. She put her hands on her hips,
shaking her head. Matt held out his hands.
“Quick one for good luck? It ain’t long before we have to leave.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“Exactly. We don’t need that Raddick guy knocking on the door and us answering in our birthday
suits.”
Matt made a faux pouty face, stripping off his clothing and walking to the shower. As far as he
knew, it was the only heated one in the entire installation.
“Oh, alright. Work, work, work…”
The water hit his face, heat and steam filling the cabin. He moved his hand under a dispenser,
clear soap depositing into his hand. He absentmindedly rubbed it up and down his arms.
All them poor sods bathing in a cold-ass waterfall, and here you are in your death yacht with its
six-head shower. Really makes you think.
All around him, the technology of the Bubble beckoned. The Saud-Kruger Fer-de-Lance was the
pinnacle of conspicuous consumption in the bounty hunter world, a status symbol as much as it was a
tool. But just beyond its hull were hundreds- maybe even thousands- of people whose lives had never
known a fraction of what he took for granted. Yet they weren’t miserable. They walked with their heads
held high, fierce warriors and proud lovers, fighting to preserve their way of life. What about that could
anyone fault?
The door to the shower opened, and a smiling face with damp purple hair emerged amid the
steam. Matt smirked and held out his hands.
“Well, hello.”
Kyndi’s lips pressed against his, his tongue exploring his mouth. Her hand moved beneath the
dispenser, filling with soap. It slipped between then, reaching down to-
Matt gasped. “Well, ​hello.”
The smuggler broke the kiss, pulling on his lip with her teeth. She looked up at him, her hands
still moving, still squeezing. Her mouth widened, smiling her Kyndi smile.
“I changed my mind. We need all the luck we can get on this trip.”

“Raddick of the Njikas Gold Crew.”
The tattooed wing leader nodded. Before him was the pair of outsiders from the previous day, the
roguish man and his purple-haired companion.
“Lehman of the Pilot’s Federation.”
The two men’s eyes met, again sizing each other up. A superior smile bent the larger man’s
mouth. At his side was a cloaked beauty whose arm ended at the elbow.
“And I believe that our women have become acquainted already.”
Kyndi scowled. “​Bitch.”
Ranja reached into her tunic, producing the pilfered data discs.
“I am sorry, outsider. But your actions betrayed you. When you are frightened, your hand grips
them. We needed leverage, and you showed us where it was.”
Matt took a step forward. “I was going to do it, you know. With or without you holding them
discs as collateral.”
Amusement shone in Raddick’s eyes. “Perhaps, but perhaps not. No man can know the mind of
another. And they will be returned when s​ he​ is.”
Another long moment passed. “We’d best be leaving, then.”
Matt turned to board his ship, until Raddick gripped him by the shoulder.
“Yes. And I will be with you​.”​
The hunter spun, seeing for the first time the traces of the man’s flightsuit beneath his jacket.
Oh, hell…
“You have got to be ​shitting​ me!”
The man gestured all around him, his muscled, bare arms spread wide.
“Did you think that yours is the only ship this place can house? Did you think that we would send
an outsider to retrieve the future of our people alone? You Bubble dwellers may think us a primitive and
backward people, but I think that it is ​you​ who stand to learn.”
With that, the man strode toward his ship. Ranja gave them both a final smirk, pocketing the data
discs and following her mate.
Matt and Kyndi looked at each other. Shaking his head, Matt spat on the rocky ground.
“Reckon we just got us a third wheel on this love cruise, darlin’.”

The kaleidoscope of colors danced in the B​ etrayal’s​ window. Hunter and smuggler stared out the
window, he gripping the controls and she rubbing her hands together. They were embarked on a journey
that neither had wanted, heading into a danger they couldn’t anticipate.

Kyndi sighed and looked up.
“So, why us?”
Lehman swallowed. “Because we ain’t Snakes, and the Omegas don’t know us. We’ve got a
better chance of bustin’ this girl out of her safehouse than any of them do.”
“And then?”
“Then we pack it up and high-tail it back to that sanctuary.”
Kyndi exhaled. “It’s so simple.”
Matt glanced over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m worried, too.”
Worried that Marra’s going to catch wind that I’ve gotten mixed up in this. What a shitstorm
that’ll be.
The pair were silent for awhile, the tunnel of witchspace surrounding them. Kyndi turned to her
partner.
“And so what exactly is the job?”
Matt picked up his dataslate, verifying the coordinates of a planetary hab block.
“The Gold Crew- Snakes, according to the locals- have a safe house on a planet that the Omegas
just locked down. Couldn’t get her out without drawing attention to themselves, so now they’re holed up.
Looks like some merc company’s been assigned to the city. Been enforcin’ order by takin’ the carrot and
the stick and usin’ just the stick.”
The smuggler scowled. Ahead of her the ship dropped from hyperspace, a massive yellow star
dominating their view.
“So much for due process, huh?”
Matt steered the ship aside, close enough to scoop escaping hydrogen but not close enough to
bake the hull. A low rumble echoed throughout the ship as the collected deployed and began to recharge
the fuel cells.
“Mercs ain’t good at police work. Reckon there’s gonna be quite a ruckus planetside- riots,
crackdowns, that sort of thing. Figured we’d use that to our advantage.”
Kyndi’s eyes narrowed. “Mercs spraying bullets everywhere and panicked mobs are an
advantage?​ ”
“It is if you want to blend in.”
The woman exhaled. “And that Raddick guy?”
Matt shrugged. “More likely to get the safehouse to open up than w​ e a​ re. Then it’s just a matter of
gettin’ the hell out of Dodge.”
Kyndi rolled her eyes, repeating herself.
“It’s so simple.”

The ​Inevitable Betrayal​ broke through the planet’s clouds, over a sprawling metropolitan area.
New Accra was a gritty industrial city, unencumbered by frivolities like pollution caps or clean air and
water laws. Brown and orange industrial smoke gave the city a smokey color, creating the impression of a
permanent sunset.

Lehman frowned. “Something ain't right.”
Indeed, a great many things were off. Gone was the foot traffic that one would expect from such a
metropolis, as well as the lines of hovercars that typically stretched into the distance.
Kyndi looked out of the canopy glass. “The city’s in lockdown. People are prisoners in their own
homes.”
Ahead of her, the hunter scowled. “So much for mosyin’ on up and ringin’ the doorbell.”
Beside them, Raddick’s Viper streaked bye. Gone was the brilliant, serpentine paintjob that it had
first sported. While the B​ etrayal​ had been getting its engine fixed, his ship had been covered with a
simple black paintjob, with the pointed crimson stripe of the Omegas gracing its hull.
Kyndi checked her instruments. “Looks like walking on up is exactly what he intends. Check out
his ship on your scope.”
Matt looked down. Unlike before, Raddick’s vessel was registering as a standard Black Omega
Enforcer, sharing a wing with Matt’s Fer-de-Lance. Over the general comms, Raddick identified himself
using his stolen transponder, getting himself and his wingmate landing permission.
The hunter exhaled. ​So that’s the plan. Pose as a pair of Omegas. At least it gets us in...

“You have got to be s​ hitting​ me!”
Laid before Matt and Kyndi was a pile of rumped-up tactical gear, black and in the style that the
Omegas wore. They were standing in the Viper’s cargo bay, miniscule by the standards of most ships but
clearly large enough for what the mission called for. All around them were cargo containers, empty
according to Raddick. Empty except for the one that contained their ill-gotten uniforms.
Kyndi held up a pair of trousers, her nose wrinkling at a stain that covered most of one leg.
“Guess we don’t need to ask how you came across legit Omega gear.”

Raddick smiled, his teeth daggers.
“Their previous owners have no more use for them.”
Matt scowled, holding up a well-worn carbine. It shot tungsten-core slugs, and was more
advanced than what he’d expected to see in Pegasi. He untucked his shirt and unbuckled his belt, selecting
the least worn of the garments before him. Raddick said nothing, only crossing his fingers in satisfaction.
The hunter looked up. “What about you?”
Raddick spread his arms wide, his grin widening along with his serpent-covered armspan.
“I am your prisoner, leading you to the safehouse. The mercenaries will defer to you.”
The hunter shook his head. ​Goddamnit. It’s not actually a bad plan- if a thousand things don’t go
wrong along the way.
Kyndi’s eyes narrowed. “And what about m​ e?”​
The serpent armed man tossed her a passcard with the twin skulls logo on its face. It, too, had
dried blood along its edge.
“The Great Serpent is whispering to me that y​ ou​ should do the talking.”
The woman brushed away a lock of purple hair and put her hands on her hips.
“Yeah, well- the Great Serpent is whispering to ​me​ that I’m getting changed by myself. Where’s
the head in this hunk of junk?”
Still grinning, the man gestured to a bulkhead door. Kyndi took the pile of tactical gear and
disappeared into the Viper’s walkway.
The door slid shut behind her, Raddick’s eyes still on it.
“Such a woman,” he said. “It would be a blessing to be mated to her.”
Rolling his eyes, Matt stripped off his shirt. The Omega one which he donned in its place only
smelled a little like its previous owner.
“Yeah. Until she zaps you and makes off with the loot. Some blessing, huh?”
Raddick turned his gaze to his guest, his eyes quizzical. “The woman has cheated you, but you
still run with her? Such a strange world you outsiders come from.”

“Well? Do we pass?”
Raddick appraised his “captors” with a practiced eye. Matt was clad head to toe in Omega tactical
gear, his face obscured by the black-visored helmet. Kyndi was in a smart black uniform, hair tied back

under a cap with a pistol and dataslate at her side. The twin skulls of the firm adorned both their
shoulders.

“Well enough for what we need, yes. Just don’t go trying to make friends with the local
mercenaries.”

Matt flipped up his visor, shouldering his carbine. “Right.”
Kyndi stepped forward, pocketing the passcard. “And if we a​ re​ stopped? What then?”
Raddick held out his hands. Kyndi took a set of mag-locking handcuffs from the table and slipped
them over his wrists. His pondered her question for a moment before answering.
“Just explain that you’re on Black Omega business. Order them to stand down. Remind them
who’s paying their contract. At the end of the day they’re mercs. Deadly mercs- but honorless dogs all the
same.”
The trio made their way to the Viper’s rear door. Matt looked sideways at his “prisoner”.
“Sounds like you ain’t telling us everything.”
Raddick keyed the controls to the Viper’s lift, the dingy docking bay surrounding them as they
lowered to the cold composite deck. His eyes grew hard, memories of battle flashing in his vision.
“They are called Blackstar,” he said. “And they fight without honor. There is no deception that
they will not employ, nor any measure of brutality from which they would abstain.”
Matt and Kyndi exchanged a glance. H​ e sure talks pretty when he’s mad, doesn’t he?
“Sounds like y’all have a history.”
The sounds of boots clicking across hard deck echoed in the docking bay.
“We are a hard people. We do not hesitate to do what is necessary to protect the clan. But to
brutalize the innocent for credits? That is not our way.”
Kyndi’s face wrinkled. “But you’ll torture your own and call it an honor.”
The man’s eyes grew reflective, additional memories in them.
“Ranja told me of your… r​ eaction​ to the ritual. You have only seen the surface of what we are,
outsider. I was once selected for the Shedding myself. Others have undergone it multiple times.”
Matt paused. “The whatting?”
Raddick glanced to his side. “She did not tell you what she witnessed?”
The hunter exhaled. “Brother, no one ever tells me ​shit​.”

It was simple enough to requisition an Authority hovercar. Chun had been under Black Omega’s
heel for months, and the firm had- in the name of free enterprise- availed itself of the local resources,
seizing public and private assets alike. The starport was heavily guarded, but Kyndi’s old smuggler
confidence didn’t fail her. She gave orders in a crisp and commanding tone, with the mercs seeing the
Black Omega skulls and waving them through.