Morning came without delay. The ship’s temporal systems were tuned to the twenty-four-hour Earth cycle, which had become the informal galactic standard some time ago. Even Nash, a dyed-in-the-wool Iolite with all the greatest respect for tradition preferred the twelve hours on and off when travelling. Every place worth doing business with observed Earth Equivalent Time down to the year, month, and day if they were basic, but down to the hour and minute in select cities if they were advanced. The world on which the Stardust prepared to land this morning was neither advanced nor basic, but a secret third thing.

  The crew had set foot on ‘rough’ planets before. Some even hailed from such enivrons. But Rallus-Beta was more than met the eye. It was the second moon of the gas giant Rallus in the Sebarnka System, and for as uninspired as the name was, the curb appeal was worse. Nevertheless, the same valuable treasure that kept the engines of commerce running abounded in rich deposits near the surface. Decadent rivulets of Vercoden sprang forth like water, painting hills and canyons with its iridescent blue. Needless to say, this site had been under exclusive Iolite control for decades, after brokering a lucrative deal with the Oosha of Sebarnka who otherwise controlled the star system.

  Rallus-Beta had enough gravity to trap an atmosphere, but not enough magnetic field to keep a good one. This factor limited the size of the mining crews and shortened the time they could be on the ground without needing their oxygen recyclers maintained. Of course, the operation couldn’t be performed with more than minimal robotic interference, Vercoden being as sensitive to electric current as it was. But even with roadblocks like these in place, the site managed to produce a steady supply year after year, with no signs of diminishing any time soon. Until the pirates showed up.

  Rugged, piglike and nine feet tall on average, these raiders from the distant planet Daldet oft went unmentioned in polite society. They were called Repho and tended to plague the outposts and backwaters comprising the remotest settlements in the galaxy. Any material loss from a station far outside the common shipping lanes could be easily written off as Repho troubles. It almost wasn’t worth it to deal with them, unless they stole something as valuable as this.

  “…And as you can see, their planet is two weeks flight outside the regularly travelled, mid-band of the galaxy, making Daldet the furthest inhabited world that has been documented so far,” Nash explained to her bleary-eyed companions as she pointed to a projected holographic display of the stars. The steam from her coffee floated between the artificial points of light as if it were a nebula on the move. She turned to the others and paused for questions, deeply aware of how many times she’d been interrupted the last time she gave them the ‘rundown.’

  The fatigue must have been taking its toll, for she received no response save for a skeptical glare from Sohrab who knew as well as she did that his planet, yet unnamed, was a further flight away than a trivial two weeks. “I said ‘documented,’ so don’t even start with me,” she shut him down preemptively. It wasn’t a convenient time to discuss it. He scowled into his own mug. It was never a convenient time. These and other questions of existence and legitimacy would have to wait a little longer as Greg appeared at last.

  He plodded into the kitchen, half-coved in goo and clad only in a navy-blue bathrobe. Whether he’d decided he was done with the hydro-stasis pod or it decided it was done with him remained unclear, as he was a sight to behold. Mia asked if he was okay, and Kory admonished him for not being ‘done cooking yet,’ but each of the sisters spoke at the same time, resulting in a jumble of words too rapid for him to process. He raised a finger to signal for silence as politely as he could muster, then he turned to the refrigerator, retrieved a carton of orange juice, and drank half its contents straight from the container in a cartoonish fashion.

  “I don’t know how y’all can stand those things,” he gasped at last, addressing those in the room who frequented the pods. He re-opened the fridge door to return the juice when Nash corrected him.

  “Nope, that’s all yours now. Don’t put it back in there.”

  He raised the carton in a mock-toast fashion and took it with him as he shambled back towards the shower. The awkward silence left in his wake dwelt somewhere between concern and laughter.

  #

  Landing wasn’t the smoothest. Nash hadn’t touched down on such rocky terrain since that last visit to the home world of the Toravai, Sirmnoc, as it was ostensibly called, and that had been in her old ship. The Stardust wasn’t enormous, but it was big enough to need flat ground more often than not. Unfortunately, Rallus-Beta’s only shipping port was no longer an option, as it was crawling with bands of Repho pirates.

  Breathing apparatuses would be required out here, though Kory and Nash hadn’t seen one since they’d rescued Greg all that time ago. The others probably hadn’t seen one at all for that matter. “They didn’t bother with an atmospheric manifold out here did they? Like at the old Innovar place?” Greg, now dressed and re-oriented, asked as Nash passed out the small mouthpieces to Mia, Kory, and Zol.

  “No,” she answered. “It was never going to be as big as that, so they limited this world to mining raw ore only. All of the refining and packaging happens at the big plant just downstream on Sebarnka. That was part of the deal we cut however many years ago.”

  “I see,” he said, turning over the apparatus in his hand before returning it to her. “How come I don’t get one of these?”

  “How can I put this?” Nash asked rhetorically, looking around the room at her Toravai companions who dutifully readied themselves for whatever lay ahead. “At the last place, I really needed you and Sohrab because there was some ‘diplomatic’ element to tackle.”

  “Is that what that was back there? Diplomacy?” Greg asked pointedly.

  “Well… not at the end,” she looked at her feet but for an instant, moving past the feeling as quickly as it came. “But you see what I’m getting at, right? The Repho aren’t going to be reasoned with or have their minds read. We’re only here to clear the place out quickly before we’re on to our third assignment and then back home.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “No, I get it.” Greg lowered his head and left the room. Nash almost felt bad for a him when he returned not even a moment later with a renewed vigor in his eyes and a large case that he slammed proudly down upon the kitchen table. “Who wants the latest and greatest?” Zol appeared at once beside him, accepting the new and improved conductive gauntlets crafted especially for him. “For you,” he said gingerly to Mia, as he handed her a similar pair in a smaller size. “And Kory, since you tend to have a different approach, I thought you’d like this one.” From the case he withdrew not only a third pair of gloves, but a new epee as well. “The pistol grip is right-handed, just like your old one. But I guess I hadn’t planned on your arm getting snapped.”

  “I don’t know what to say…” Kory’s eyes widened in awe as she took the weapon by the bell guard with her left hand, and passed it into her right, now blissfully free of the agonizing limb cuff. “I mean, thank you of course. And I healed up for good a few hours ago so I can use this now!”

  “I’d have attached voltmeters and transmitters on these things to try and get some metrics, but I’m not sure the software would survive the strain y’all’dve put on the hardware. Either way though, they should give you a boost, so stay safe and have fun!” Greg smiled as his eager test subjects donned their new equipment.

  “When are you going to make something for me?” Nash joked, twisting her own hair into a long French braid without touching it.

  “As soon as anyone knows what telekinesis even is,” Greg quipped in return. “But maybe I’ll make you a sandwich when you get back.

  “Deal. Now keep this thing on stand-by,” She gestured broadly at the whole of the ship. “There’s always a chance we may need to make a quick exit.”

  “You got it,” he gave a thumbs up. “But what about…” he let his eyes wander towards the back of the ship to where Sohrab had disappeared just moments ago.

  “You’ll be fine on your own, the copilot doesn’t do anything.” Nash said loud enough for Kory to hear.

  “I’m about to do the most with this thing,” Kory boasted, flicking the tip of the bronze hued epee with pride.

  “And you didn’t even have to pilfer that one from the university,” Mia teased as she secured her hair with a pink headband.

  Nash wasn’t about to have another petty argument break out. There had been quite enough of that over the preceding days, so she clapped her hands once to get everyone’s attention. “Shall we?” She placed the breathing apparatus over her mouth and nose and headed for the passenger door at the head of the ship, motioning with her arm for the others to do the same. They followed her one by one, with Zol’s hulking form bringing up the rear. When the exterior door sealed behind them, Greg sat in the pilot’s seat, and began the thankless task of adjusting all the settings to his own preferences. Through the front windshield, he watched them walk away over the harsh, gray landscape. It took a while, but after some adjusting to the rocky terrain, they disappeared from view at last, headed in the direction of the shipping facility, that by Nash’s assessment, was little more than a pig pen at this point. Funny how the daughter of a recreational cattle rancher and his cheesemaker wife could have such disdain for the concept of livestock or the people who she claimed resembled them. When Greg lost sight of the group, he left the front of the ship and went searching for the only one left. He’d be better than no one to talk to at all

  To the Human’s surprise, he acquired his target quicker than expected. Sohrab was in the very back of the habitable part of the craft, staring intently at the hydro-stasis pods, deep in thought. When Greg entered the room, he glared at him over his shoulder, then turned back to the object of his fixation.

  “Did you, like, sense me coming or something?” Greg teased, joining him next to the pod.

  “I heard you,” he said dryly. “Your resemblance to the sasquatch of legend has nothing to do with its stealth.”

  Greg raised an eyebrow in concession. It had been a good one, after all. “You know, you better pray you never have a reason to end up in one of these.” He nodded towards the pod that glowed green before them. “Now, don’t get me wrong. In terms of bringing me back from the brink after being trampled by thirty-some-odd eight foot tall, pissed off, whatever-they-were… this thing was unmatched, by far. But Lord, it was miserable like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Was it now?” Sohrab asked, his curiosity piqued. “One could be convinced this technology might convey near immortality.”

  “You know, in theory, you’d think that were true. But before the Iolites found the good stuff, almost five hundred years ago, they relied upon very similar devices to preserve themselves as they travelled the stars. It nearly killed them,” he mused. “You figure we were headed down the same path… we Earthlings, I mean.”

  “What changed?” the psychic prodded.

  “Oh, you know how the story goes. That old Hail Mary to Mars got intercepted three centuries ago and the rest is history. But long story longer, avoid these pods if you can, and if you can’t, pick a better recovery beverage than the universe’s stalest orange juice…” Greg shook his head as he left the room. “…like, how was it dusty though?”

  #

  A few hours passed and the two sat in the pilot and copilot’s chairs, eating scrambled eggs out of dishes they had no plans to clean with a bottle each of the Cuanerel Viognier in their respective cupholders.

  “Not bad,” said Greg, stirring the eggs around with his fork before taking another bite.

  “It’s the only thing I know how to make,” Sohrab mumbled, chasing a bite with a drink of the wine.

  “What more do you need though?...wait, do you see that?” He pointed out the windshield, nearly spilling his food.

  Sohrab looked up too. “It’s them!”

  “Quick, put all this away, I have to get this thing ready to launch!” Greg shoved his plate and fork into Sohrab’s hands and began flipping switches overhead.

  Sohrab stood up from the chair and paused for an instant, still looking ahead at the arriving party. “They’re being followed,” he warned, as he left to go throw the dishes with food still on them into the sink.

  “Dammit, you’re right!” Greg exclaimed as the scene unfolded. Over the distant horizon, he saw a faint, purple speck of light approaching, followed three columns of white, hot electricity. But the latter didn’t hold steady as they usually did. This time they flickered, as if something was wrong. By his own admission, he didn’t see much of their power firsthand, but he was sure this wasn’t typical. Following the four was exactly what Sohrab had said. At least a dozen Repho pirates on vehicles resembling levitating jet skis chased their antagonists.