Page 3 of Hunter's Moon
I filed away the information, always on the lookout for anything that might be useful later. The station was a hive of activity, beings from a hundred different worlds bustling about their business. But my mind was focused on one face: Lina’s.
As I approached the docking bay where my ship was berthed, a familiar and unwelcome voice called out.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the great Tharion. Slumming it with the rest of us bounty hunters now, are we?”
I turned to see Marvek, a Lyrikan bounty hunter I’d had the misfortune of crossing paths with before. His silver-white hair was tied back, and his cold grey eyes held a mocking glint.
“Marvek,” I snarled. “I don’t have time for your games.”
He stepped closer, his lean frame coiled with barely contained energy. “Word is, there’s a new bounty out. Big money. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
My patience snapped. In an instant, I closed the distance between us.
“Listen carefully, Marvek, because I’m only going to say this once,” I said. “Stay out of my way. This job is mine. If I so much as catch a whiff of you interfering, they’ll be scraping what’s left of you off the hull of my ship. Understood?”
Marvek’s eyes widened slightly, but to his credit, he didn’t back down. “Big words, Vinduthi. Let’s see if you can back them up.”
I held his gaze for a moment longer, then stepped back. Without another word, I turned and continued toward my ship. As I walked away, I heard Marvek mutter something under his breath, but I didn’t care enough to listen.
My ship, the Mkrani Soko, sat waiting for me in the docking bay. As I approached, some of the tension left my body. This ship was more than just a vessel; it was home.
As I entered the airlock, my mind drifted back to the hologram of the target. Lina. There was something about her, something that tugged at me in a way I couldn’t explain.
Nonsense.
She was just another bounty, nothing more.
But as I settled into the pilot’s seat and began the pre-flight checks, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this job was going to be anything but ordinary.
LINA
The acrid stench of booze and sweat assaulted my nostrils as I pushed through the throng of bodies in the dimly lit cantina. My stomach growled. Three days ago I’d slunk out of that cargo hold to find myself on Lakaris, the notorious underground city carved into the giant moon, Belond.
I’d heard stories of this moon—once a lawless pirate haven, now with its upper levels tamed for thrill-seeking tourists. But nothing had prepared me for the reality. The air felt thick, recycled, carrying unfamiliar scents. Neon signs flickered above a maze of corridors and ramshackle dwellings, hinting at the dangers that still lurked the lower you went. The lower depths were ruled by ruthless gangs, making it the perfect blend of surface-level respectability and underlying lawlessness—the ideal place to disappear.
At least, I hoped so. Because I was out of credits, and out of options.
I approached the cantina’s bar, my eyes fixed on the Orlian bartender. His sand-colored skin shimmered in the low light, and the membranous appendages on his arms fluttered as he mixed drinks with practiced ease.
“Excuse me,” I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. “I’m looking for work. Any chance you need help cleaning or serving drinks?”
The Orlian’s large eyes narrowed as he looked me up and down. “We don’t hire humans here,” he grunted, turning back to his patrons. “Too much trouble.”
I pushed down the frustration and fear threatening to overwhelm me. “Please,” I persisted. “I’m a hard worker. I’ll do anything.”
He ignored me, wiping down the bar with a rag that had seen better days. I stood there, feeling increasingly invisible as the minutes ticked by.
Finally, he glanced back at me with a sigh. “Fine. You can clean tables. Two credits an hour. Don’t expect more.”
Relief washed over me. “Thank you,” I said, meaning it. “I’m Lina. And you are?”
“Kel,” he replied shortly. “Now get to work. Those tables won’t clean themselves.”
I nodded, grabbing a rag and a spray bottle from behind the bar. As I worked, I was invisible to the customers, conversations flowing freely around me.
“Did you hear about the latest Crag-Worm races?” a squeaky voice asked. “I’ve got 500 credits on Blue Lightning.”
“You’re a fool,” his companion replied. “Everyone knows the Vinduthi are fixing those races. You might as well flush your money down the waste chute.”