by May Sage
She’d arrived on Aremeta three hours ago and she’d headed right to the market district to set up her stand. A client she'd met on Yagu was supposed to meet her there this evening to get blade guards and a battery—two parts he hadn't managed to get his hands on to rebuild a vintage speeder 33-YT. Collectors paid a ridiculous amount of money to get what they wanted, so she'd dug out the parts. It had taken weeks, but it'd be worth it for the payout.
Dara liked to arrive early whenever she had an appointment somewhere new, to get a good look at the setting, see if there was an opportunity for further business in the area. She'd brought some non-sensitive, entirely legal goods from other parts of the sector to see if anyone would bite; selling a thing or two before her client turned up wouldn’t have hurt.
She wasn’t even done installing her display when a bunch of enforcers had turned up, ordering her to follow them, blasters in hand. One of them had fucking shot her transport, her only way out of this hellhole.
She would have grabbed her lance and showed them just what she thought of their welcoming committee, if she hadn’t noticed that their weapons were set on laser, not stun. Fuck. Whatever this mess was, it was serious.
They’d dragged her to the justice building and accused her of killing some random guy she'd never seen in her entire life. What a mess. The dude had been killed five days ago, and, needless to say, five days ago she’d been in another part of the system. She had pointed out that she could prove her whereabouts. Her exosuit had recorded them, and her ship logs, plus authorization to land, corroborated her claim, but her captors were really, really not interested in facts, truth, or actually catching the right guy.
Dara wasn’t stupid; she knew she’d been set up. No doubt, by her client. Fucking little hairy monkey. She was going to kick his ass so hard after she got out of here. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be in a long time.
She got her suit to send a distress signal to Zee as soon as she was taken away.
Dara had taken one of their auxiliary transports to head to Aremeta, encouraging the others to stick to their schedule. The robot was on her uncle’s ship with the rest of her crew; they’d gone to answer a distress call while she was doing business.
They’d head back and… And what? Take on a justice building and break out a presumed murderer? That would be a new one.
She closed her eyes. It’d work out. She had to believe it. It wasn't the first time she'd been in a tight spot, given her line of work.
“Very well,” the automated voice of the robotic judge said. “You’re found guilty. Your execution is set in an hour. Next.”
She almost gasped. What the hell? One hour. Unbelievable as it was, she did her best to keep her expression blank, unreadable. No way was she going to let these fucking pricks see how worried she was. They knew they were being assholes. No one conducted a murder trial in half an hour and condemned suspects, without proof, an hour later.
It couldn't even be legal. Fuck.
It would work out, she told herself again. Somehow, she'd wiggle out of it. She always did.
Dara mentally calculated her crew’s distance, remembered every part of the building where she’d been brought, the number of enforcers and drones she'd seen…
All right, she was screwed. The enforcers had taken her lance, and even if she’d had it, it wouldn’t have helped much against hundreds of enemies. Thankfully, they hadn't actually removed her exosuit, probably because they hadn't recognized it; when it wasn't activated, it looked like a simple bracelet to an idiot who didn't think to scan it. But while the nanotechnology and computerized armor might protect her and improve her speed and balance, it didn't make her invincible.
Fuck. What now?
She followed as they led her out of the court and toward the back of the justice building. Fuck, she'd hoped that they'd take her outside instead; she would have had a greater chance of escaping.
She was lost in scheming and calculations when a voice pulled her out of it.
“Dara?”
She knew that voice. Knew it.
She couldn’t help it. “Fucking seriously? You? Now?”
Talk about kicking a girl while she was down.
The last time she’d seen Hart, he was offering her a job out of pity and judging her way of life; now she was in deep shit because of said life, he was witnessing it? Obviously, the universe hated her.
But somehow, it wasn't a nightmare. When she turned and lifted her gaze, the mage was standing in front of her, in all his glory, still too tall, too handsome, and too infuriating for her taste.
Unlike her, he wasn’t flanked by half a dozen guards and his hands weren’t bound behind his back, so presumably he hadn’t been accused of killing anyone. Just for that, she hated him a little.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Hart demanded, looking right at the finely dressed Evris who was accompanying him.
“This is planetary business,” the male replied. “It has nothing to do with you, emissary.”
She could tell that wasn't going to go down well. An ice-cold expression crossed the mage's face.
“And you will tell me," he informed him, his voice cutting. "Or you will do without our business. Plenty of other systems are selling fuel, senator.”
A second passed; anger flashed in the politician’s eyes, but at long length, he gestured to one of Dara’s guards.
“You. What’s the situation, soldier?”
“The prisoner has been found guilty of murdering one Alto Peragin, local merchant, and is to be cleansed before the sentence is carried out.”
Dara couldn’t help it, she had to point out, “Because apparently I can murder people while being on another planet on the other side of the damn sector. Go me.”
Hart sighed. “Unbind her. Bring her to my ship.”
He definitely had issues asking for stuff, rather than demanding them.
“Sir, if the female has been found guilty—" the politician he was walking with started.
Hart didn't let him get another word in. “You and I both know how your justice system works around here. That’s the main reason why you’re not part of the empire, or the Belt. So, you’ll do as I say, and we’ll discuss details while we’re setting up our deal. Or I will return to my ship and we will never talk again.”
The poor politician was fuming; Dara almost felt sorry for him. But he inclined his head, before ordering the enforcer to do exactly what Hart had demanded.
She was loath to admit that the whole exchange of testosterone had been rather hot.
One enforcer unbound her poor, sore wrists.
“Wait,” she said, stopping them in their tracks as they started to walk away, “why your ship? I have stuff to do, just let me go.”
The shadow of a smile formed at the corner of Hart’s lip. “No, I don’t think so. For once, I’m afraid you’re going to have to do as you’re told, princess. Your guards will see to it.”
She lifted one hand and gave him the finger. The ghost of a smile crossed Hart's lips for a second, but then a baton set on stunner hit her in the flank. Shit. The damn thing hurt so bad it cut off her air. Those guys were utter assholes.
Dara was holding her breath and bracing herself for a second impact as the enforcer raised his arm again.
The hit never came.
She felt a strange, warm, and eerie breeze to her left, as if someone had suddenly opened windows in the stuffy hallway, but there were no windows at all. Turning to see what had happened, her eyes widened as she took in the scene.
The enforcer who’d just hit her was pinned high on the closest wall, visibly struggling to breathe. He still held the hilt of his baton in his hand, but the rest of it had melted down to a steaming, stinky metal puddle on the floor. Following the direction of the male’s panicked look, she saw Hart stare up at him with disinterest, almost bored, hand extended, fist clenched.
Hart had always seemed unassuming, approachable even, and yet a little voice in Dara’s mind had told her to
be careful, to watch him closely. Something she couldn’t quite explain had made her believe that he was a sleeping beast, ready to pounce, someone she should be careful of. Now she understood why. She’d been right to listen to that voice.
Everything about him said power. He was holding a seven-foot-tall male three feet up in the air with his damn mind, and without breaking a sweat. He could really hurt people, if he felt like it.
In any other situation, she might have irrevocably been terrified of Hart, but the enforcer had reminded her of one fact that was easy to forget: even the weakest idiot could actually cause harm. All it took was the right weapon, a tool, some poisonous gas.
What Hart was capable of didn’t matter as much as what he chose to do with his power. And this was perhaps the crux of the problem. She'd hated mages for so long, because one of them had chosen to let her mother die. One of them. Every Evris was different; some were dumb, others, cruel, and some were just okay. Same could be said for mages. The fact that she'd only realized that now probably meant that she wasn't as smart as she liked to believe she was.
That, or she was just a lot more prejudiced than she'd thought. Neither option sat well with her.
Shit, I'm an asshole.
“This female isn’t yours to harm. You will lead her to my ship, maintaining a five-foot distance away from her at all times. Should I see another bruise on her, I will find you.”
He didn’t yell; he didn’t need to.
His gaze included every one of her guards in one sweep, threatening each of them wordlessly. Then he turned, certain that no one would think to undermine his authority.
Suddenly, Dara understood why he didn’t ask for things. He didn’t need to. The one answer to everything he said was “yes, sir. Right away, sir. May I also wipe your ass while I'm at it, sir?”
It hit her that he’d toned down his dominance every time they’d talked together. And she also realized that while she’d thought of him as handsome before, he’d never quite revealed how fucking hot he was until now.
Inconvenient.
“This way,” one of the enforcers said awkwardly, not daring to touch or even look at her.
Dara bit her lip, her eyes drifting towards the entrance of the justice building. She doubted that the enforcers would try to hurt her after Hart’s little show. She could make a run for it; her exosuit was still fitted in, she might have been able to outrun the guards.
But then what? Her transport had been destroyed and the Fusion was hours away.
She sighed and walked in the direction the enforcer was pointing.
Looked like she was going to Hart's ship after all.
Thirteen
Perspective
Hart knew how important his trip was, nonetheless he wanted this deal to be over now, right this second, before the maddening female ran again. She would, he was certain of it. Disappearing was Dara Rexis’ modus operandi.
The first time, Hart had been surprised and annoyed to find that she'd left Zeru, but also reluctantly impressed. Leaving with her younger brother, the heir, had been the smart thing to do. In her shoes, he might have done the same. The second time, he'd truly believed that she would have come to him, like a bee to honey, after being promised an obscene amount of money for a simple job. When she hadn't come, she'd showed a lot about her character. Pride, for one, but also something more. Ethics? She was against the insurgents and no promise of reward would sway her.
Reluctantly, again, he had to admire the female's sprit. He shouldn't be impressed. She was an enemy; she truly despised his kind and if things went her way, they'd go back to a time when they were hunted, killed for existing.
Hart closed his eyes. She would run again, given half an opportunity, and he, stupid as it was, just didn't want her to.
He had no use for her. Now that Kai had taken Vratis and been named warlord of their kingdom, Hart's workload had tripled, and he delegated anything that didn't have to personally be overseen by the right hand to their lord. He didn't have time to worry about one troublesome mercenary.
And yet, he'd given the order to take her to the Stellar, and while his mind should have been entirely focused on the commercial treaty he was supposed to negotiate, he wanted it to be over already, so that he could go speak to her. What would he say? Something along the line of "I told you so," and, "find yourself a proper job," or perhaps, "where would you be if I hadn't turned up?"
Dead, that's where she would have been. Or worse. What madness had convinced her to go to Aremeta, of all places? There were few worse systems in the galaxy. He needed to make her see reason because what if he wasn't there next time she put herself in danger like that?
The very thought was enraging.
“Sir, I know for a fact that the Fladian sell their hydrofuels for nine per gallon. We are very competitive at eight and a half marks."
“The Fladian so happen to be a respectable system established among the imperials. They pay their dues and follow the laws. Far less trouble. If you're under ten percent cheaper, we'll deal with them. Have you called me here to waste my time?”
Hart was getting bored and impatient. Dara notwithstanding, he didn’t generally touch commercial deals.
This trip was about a lot more than money, however. Like many planets, Aremeta was a mostly barren planet with a sparse population, and there weren't a lot of pleasant things to say of it. The air was foul, dense, metallic, always hot. Yet it was an incredibly rich system because of its many natural streams of fuel, so abundant the owners had mined it for centuries and hadn’t even scratched the surface of the supply yet.
It was mostly a worker planet; the dozens of lords who shared its ownership lived in lavish style offsystem. They dispatched an official such as the senator, Teno, when someone of Hart’s standing asked for a meeting, but other than the few instances when such an occasion arose, there were only laborers, technicians, and enforcers living on the planet.
Kai wanted to see and get a feel of Aremeta, first hand. Reading or hearing a report wouldn't have been the same, because, as his sister liked to point out, Hart was a control freak.
His research had led to the conclusion that the planet was entirely under the thumb of the Matlarians. He needed to know if that was true, because taking it would unmask the majority of their enemies: the lords of this planet and their extended network.
It could get complicated. While Aremeta was a private territory, it was governed by the Summaerian system, a conglomeration of seven planets in this area of the galaxy.
The Summae weren't included in the Ratna Belt, or the empire for that matter; it was its own little kingdom, ruled by a merciless alien leader. When the empire had been formed, the Evris hadn't explored the entire galaxy yet. There were a few habitable planets outside of their reach. Sometimes, the Belt or the imperials conquered new systems, but they'd purposefully left the Summaerians alone until now.
It might or might not have something to do with the fact that the Summaerians were ten-foot-tall blue aliens who could crush walls with their skulls.
Still, Kai wasn't worried about them; nor was Hart. If they needed to fight them to get to the Matlarians, they would.
The twelve owners of Aremeta had bought the land from the Summaerians with a fleet of ships and some other Evris resources half a century ago. Hart took it as a clue that the aliens weren't without reason. Hopefully, they could simply negotiate.
There were a few things he needed to clarify before thinking of potential wars and negotiations. He was supposed to determine whether Aremeta truly was a Matlarian base. Come to think of it, Dara’s presence had made the matter simpler.
“We could talk about lower prices,” Tano said cordially, “if you were willing to guarantee substantial, consistent orders.”
Hart inclined his head. “I represent a large fleet. Higher orders won’t be an issue. Just give me a number that won’t waste my time.”
The Aremetarian offered six forty, Hart countered at six per gallon, they
settled on six ten, at a rate of a hundred thousand gallons of fuel per month.
Hart had little interest in economics, but an official in his position couldn’t entirely ignore financial matters. He knew that the deal would save them over forty percent of their transport costs for the foreseeable future, so the minister of finances would be happy. So would Evi, who was tired of hearing that she couldn't conduct patrols whenever she felt like it, because it was too damn expensive.
Now, Hart focused on the real issue at hand.
“Before I sign, let us talk of the female we’ve come across. The affair needs to be straightened out. She’s an acquittance of mine, you see. I will not leave her here.”
The male had seen it coming; he nodded, unsurprised.
“We don’t take kindly to her sort on Aremeta, you know. Mercenaries breed trouble, bringing illicit goods and bothering our workers’ schedules.”
Hart lifted a brow. “I thought she was on trial for murder, not smuggling.”
“One or the other. It matters little in the end." Tano shrugged. "Have her if you wish. We’re very good to our clients. I’ll take care of the paperwork.”
Hart did his best to keep each and every one of his features perfectly expressionless, his demeanor pleasant and relaxed.
“I’m not sure I understand, sir. You'd give her to me?”
Oh, he understood perfectly. He was exactly where he wanted to be.
“She’s condemned. Her life is forfeit. There’re too many prisoners in our cells, so those who commit serious crimes immediately get sentenced. We’re not the only system with such policies.”
Hart nodded, remaining silent, to encourage the fool to carry on speaking.
“Before the execution, she would have been able to opt for putting herself on sale if she wished to. Entirely voluntary process, you understand. It’s legal.”
There. He had him. This was a Matlarian base. There was no other large group of organized slavers who could afford a planet like this one.
“Of course,” Hart forced out, slowly, with a sunny smile that Tano failed to read.
