Glitch unfolded the inventory, a display hanging in midair, and I plucked out the inconsistencies. “To answer your question, a few things have gone missing here and there. The cable spool, two batteries from the charger, four tubes of sealant… nothing that I can see a pattern in. Nothing urgent aside from the cable.”
I flicked the data over to Allison and the shimmering tarantula on her shoulder caught it. In some ways her choice of AI design was the most honest thing about her, a deadly spider colored the same pink as her lipstick.
“I’ll add it to the other reports,” Allison said without glancing at the data. “Do try to keep a better eye on these things in future, though.”
I frowned, opening my mouth and then shutting it, saying none of the things I wanted to. How the fuck am I meant to do that, stay up all night? Or, Why don’t you come down and keep watch?
All an argument would get me was more grief. Allison expected a can-do attitude to her requests, no matter how unlikely.
“Oh, one more thing. I forgot to mention this earlier, but you’ll have some help from now on — the Joint Colony agreed to send us another technician. You’ll meet him when he arrives on the supply shuttle tomorrow morning, okay? Fabulous.” Allison didn’t wait for an acknowledgment, turning on her heel and walking out.
“Maybe I should have hit her,” I said to Glitch, who nodded supportively. “When does the supply shuttle arrive, anyway?”
Glitch displayed that as a clock: 6am. Then the present time: 10pm. What utter fucking bullshit was this? I’d promised Allison her camera drone back in operation, and now she’d ordered me to go to meet this newcomer? I scrunched up my face.
“If I get right to it, I should get all of five hours to sleep before I go meet my new assistant. Thanks a fucking lot, boss.”
The worst thing was that we weren’t expecting any supplies on this delivery. It wouldn’t even be stopping here if it wasn’t for this new technician arriving.
The wind screeched past me and I wrapped my arms around myself, following the winding trail down to the landing pad. Crashland’s pale sun hadn’t risen yet, though the glow at the horizon showed that it wouldn’t be long before it showed itself.
Behind me, the transmitter tower stabbed the heavens like a dagger. This high up the air was thin enough to slow me down, and Glitch scampered ahead, reaching the edge of my hologram projector’s range and turning back to mewl pitifully at me.
“I’m coming as fast as I can, Glitch,” I told him, amused by his impatience.
Glitch meowed again, or tried to. It dissolved into a burst of static as his image fragmented and reformed. The damage to his projector wasn’t going to get repaired, not on Crashland. One more thing to blame the Prytheen pirates for.
The aliens had attacked the colony ship, forced us down on an unknown world inside the borders of the Tavesh Empire. And they’d been forced down too, so we had to share this planet with them.
One of the very best things about working on the vidstation was that it put me far from all the Prytheen.
Lost in morbid thought about the aliens, I almost didn’t realize we’d arrived. Our landing platform was just a cleared area large enough for a flyer to land on. Lights drilled into the stone marked it out for the fliers overhead.
The sun came up behind me, casting long, sharp shadows over the field. Behind me, all the way back at the transmitter, I heard the whirring of the solar collectors opening and angling themselves to catch the light. A terrible grinding noise accompanied number three; something was wrong there, probably a worn-out bearing.
“Move that up the list, Glitch, it’s getting worse.” There were too many things going wrong all at once, and I kept rushing from one emergency fix to the next. Routine maintenance had fallen far behind, but it would be nice to stop something before it became a disaster one of these days.
Glitch pixelated and vanished, reappearing on my shoulder and extending a paw. The flier was approaching.
The heavy, blocky things weren’t really meant for landing on such a small area, but whoever was flying this one didn’t seem to believe in taking it slow. I scowled — the human colonists were always careful to the point of paranoia with the fliers. The ones we had were all we’d get; no way would anyone be able to produce more fliers on Crashland.
But the Prytheen? All, or nearly all, were daredevil pilots. And for some reason, Captain Joyce thought it was okay to let them fly. Probably because she’d fallen for their pirate king, or whatever he called himself.
The Prytheen pilot didn’t even land, just spinning the flier so the cargo ramp descended over the landing platform. Show off.
The ramp lowered, and in the dark shadows inside I saw a figure. A tall man, a long coat…
He stepped into the sunlight and the blood drained from my face. The world spun. My pulse hammered in my ears.
His skin was blue, and he stood at least seven foot tall. A Prytheen? The motherfuckers sent me a Prytheen and didn’t warn me?
That’s it, I’m broadcasting porn at prime time. The promise I always made to myself when angry with the colony leadership, a revenge ridiculous enough to make me laugh and take the edge off.
For the first time I asked myself where I’d get hold of the porn.
The Prytheen warrior descended the ramp and jumped down the six-foot drop to the landing pad. Behind him, the flier’s engines roared, and it took off to wherever the fuck it was going next, leaving me staring at my nightmare come to life.
I couldn’t stop looking at him. Tall, muscular, he looked the part of a pirate. His long coat fluttered in the wind, where most Prytheen wore nothing on their torsos. Perhaps that was his concession to the cold?
Maybe, but his chest was bare beneath it. That became ridiculously clear when the wind blew it open, displaying his broad blue chest, scars across muscle as though he’d been savaged by some great beast. A locket hung around his neck.
At his right hip he wore a blaster, one of the Prytheen weapons that didn’t function on Crashland. On his left, a sword. An honest-to-god sword.
Long dark hair whipped in the wind behind him, framing a rugged face, the scar that cut across his left cheek pulling his lip up into a sneer. Intense gold-irised eyes gazed back at me, a quick flick up and down followed by a longer, lingering look.
The shiver that ran through me had nothing to do with the freezing temperatures. In fact, I felt warmer than I had in weeks.
Approaching me, the Prytheen set down his big duffle bag and stopped just out of arms’ reach. “I am Karnac of the Silver Band, Layol’s Clan, and I am pleased to meet you.”
His voice, gruff and deep and powerful, spoke to my body in ways I could hardly understand, let alone put words to. Whatever it was, my body wanted more. My brain focused on the meaning of the words: Karnac of the slaver pirates was more like it, but I had too much self-control to let myself say that.
Unfortunately, nothing else came to mind. I turned in silence and headed back to the station.
2 Karnac
The human female stood there, silent and motionless, just looking at me. My introduction made, I returned the favor, cursing the heavy jacket she wore. Yes, the thin air this high was cold. Granted. A bracing chill, not a freeze needing so many layers.