Page 48 of The Last Hunt
“Got a mouth on her.”
“Probably some Vitraxian trash,” a well dressed man says. Several other people look at the man with visible disdain.
“Who you calling trash, shitbrain?” another man says, his clothes and skin stained with the characteristic orange and brown dust of Vitraxia. Several other people walk up behind him, also clearly Vitraxian.
Aethon skirts around the brewing fight and peers across the way where people are still shouting. He leans on the rail, pushing between other onlookers. His hand spasms on the rail when he sees a woman struggling between three guards in Valley Starbase uniforms. One of the guards has the woman’s wine red braid wrapped around his fist, and the woman is cursing up a storm, her neck pulled back, her arms immobilized. Aethon’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest as he watches Maeve struggle. They haul her toward a door and push her inside. Aethon quickly counts the floors and memorizes exactly where they went. He shoves back from the rail and snarls when one of the Vitraxian workers gets in his way.
“You trying to fight too, Guild boy?” the man says. His hair is shaggy and dirty blond, and Aethon’s instinct is to elbow him in the face, but he pauses.
The brewing fight between the Vitraxians and the wealthy looking man and his friends looks to be at an impasse. No one is throwing any punches, they’re just trading snipes and circling each other like two rival packs of dogs. But it would be so convenient for Aethon if there were a large, violent distraction on the starbase right now. One that might lure security and maybe even the station commander away from whatever else they might be doing.
So Aethon grabs the collar of one of the well dressed men and drags him through the crowd and toward the railing. The man tries to spin and grab Aethon’s arm, but he can’t break free of Aethon’s iron grip.
“What the fuck are you doing!” he demands. Aethon just tightens his grip, the man’s collar putting pressure on his throat. “Let me go -” he wheezes.
“Are you Vitraxians going to stand for this shit?!” Aethon bellows, his voice echoing across the open area of the starbase. He spins the man around and grabs him by the front of his throat, bending him backwards over the railing. The drop is hundreds of feet, and though the gravity is lower, Aethon is fairly certain if the man fell, he’d be dead on impact. The man’s face is purplish red and he scrabbles at Aethon’s wrist weakly. His colorless eyes are wide and his mouth opens in a silent cry.
Shouts ring out behind Aethon and people start to flee, shoving past him. He turns over his shoulder to watch as the two factions lunge for each other, fists flying. Blood spurts from a man’s lip as it splits, leaving a trail on the floor. The fight quickly turns dirty when someone pulls out a knife, lunging for one of the wealthy men. The screaming and shouting intensifies, and Aethon feels his blood pounding in his ears. Alarms start to wail, emergency lights blinking overhead, and Aethon sees station security start to run from other levels toward them.
With a quick blow, he knocks the man he’s holding over the rail unconscious, and skirts around the brawl, sprinting in the opposite direction. He has to fight his way through thick crowds on the stairs, and it takes him longer than he wants to make his way up to the floor where he’d last seen Maeve.
The crowds have thinned by the time Aethon finally steps out onto the correct floor. Station security is trying to break up the fight below, but based on the shouts, Aethon can tell it’s not over yet.
This floor of the station seems to be reserved for business suites instead of shops, and so there are fewer people here anyway. The ones Aethon sees ignore him completely, focused on their tabs. Despite this being a floor dedicated to business, it’s as dingy as the rest of the station. The floors are scuffed and dirty, there are open panels with wiring poking out, clearly mid-repair. There are sections of wall that have been patched and then painted a color slightly off from the gray of the rest of the walls.
Casually, Aethon approaches the door where he’d seen the guards take Maeve. It’s completely nondescript - no signs, no decorations, no indication of what might be behind it. Aethon presses his ear to the door, but he can’t hear anything. He leans back and grits his teeth, and then slowly tries to turn the doorknob. It’s locked.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. He could break the door down, but if Cho is in there with Maeve, he doesn’t want to spook him. Who knows what he might do if he thinks someone is coming to rescue Maeve. He’ll save brute force for later. He walks back and forth down the hall and tries both doors on either side. Both locked as well. He curls his hands into fists, frustrated with his lack of options, and worried about what might be happening to Maeve.
Then he sees two starbase guards walking with purpose down the hallway toward him. An idea pops into his head.
“Hey!” Aethon shouts. He scowls as the guards note him and slow down.
“What?” one of them says. Aethon sees the guard’s eyes flick to Aethon’s Two Roses crest. He prays to any higher being listening that the guards are stupid, and don’t make the connection between him and Maeve both being members of the Guild of Two Roses.
“I’ve been waiting to see the starbase commander for forty-five minutes!” Aethon growls, gesturing to the door. He straightens up and he’s almost a head taller than both guards. He glares down at them impatiently.
One of the guards shrugs. “No way, pal. The commander is -”
“I have business with Quinlar Cho,” Aethon snarls. He jabs a pointer finger at the guard. “Tell him that I’m here - and I’m not happy.”
“I don’t even know who you are -”
“Of course you don’t,” Aethon interrupts. “You don’t need to know. Cho’s expecting me. He won’t be happy if you keep him waiting either.”
The guards blanch and one swallows hard. “I think he’s busy -”
“He’s going to be even busier if he doesn’t see me in the next two minutes,” Aethon interrupts, his voice icy.
The guards look at each other, and then one of them blows out a hard breath and moves to the door. “I’ll see what Mr. Cho says -”
The instant the guard unlocks the door with a keycard Aethon roundhouse kicks him in the back making him stumble into the dark room. Before the other guard can react, Aethon pulls out his pulse gun and shoots him in the knee. He crumples to the ground with a scream. Everything feels like it’s going in slow motion as Aethon kicks the first guard in the head, knocking him out. He jumps back and slams the butt of his gun against the injured guard’s head, silencing him. Then he turns back to the room. It’s dark and empty, but there’s another door on the far side. Whoever is behind it definitely heard the raucous Aethon just caused. There’s no more time for subtlety. Aethon storms over and kicks the door down, the flimsy wood breaking easily off its hinges.
This room is harshly lit, and Aethon stops just inside the entrance.
Maeve is tied to a chair in the center of the room. Her jacket and shirt are gone, leaving her in a bra and her pants. Aethon’s pulse jumps as he sees cut marks on her arm, bright blood leaving a trail down her pale skin. She’s gagged, but she meets his gaze, her light green eyes brimming with angry tears. Her expression makes him want to tear down the starbase with his bare hands. A man stands behind Maeve, a knife to her throat. The man is tall and thin with short black hair, and dark, dead looking eyes that remind Aethon of a shark. His lip curls up as he sees Aethon.
“The infamous Aethon Trell,” Cho says, his voice cold.