Page 62 of The Last Hunt
“You can’t, or you won’t?” Maeve asks.
Sylar shakes her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“Aethon and I have worked for Two Roses for a long time,” Maeve says. “We know what we’re getting into.”
“Mining corps are a different breed,” Sylar says, raising a white brow. “The power they wield is ultimate. Nothing about space travel is possible without the products they provide.”
Aethon sighs as Maeve bristles at Sylar’s condescension. He inserts himself before she snaps at the older woman. “I understand the gravity of what we’re asking,” he says. “We know the depths that people will sink to in order to get what they want. I’d be truly grateful for any assistance you can provide.”
“I grew up on Tellamar,” Maeve adds, her voice hard. “So believe me when I say I understand danger and power hungry people.”
Sylar’s eyes widen just a little and she tilts her chin up. She flicks her gaze over Maeve and narrows her eyes before refocusing on Aethon. “I’m not sure what you remember from the Freehail days, Trell - but I’m not one to give away information for free.”
“So you do know something about Daik,” Maeve says, her voice like ice. “We need to bring him in. Hunting him down is about the safety of the galaxy.”
Sylar chuckles. “No it isn’t, girl. This is about credits.”
Maeve’s lip curls back into a snarl. “Don’t you call me -”
“I think we’re getting off track,” Aethon says, holding a hand up to cut off both the women. Aethon is under no delusions that he can control anything Maeve says or does, but if Sylar does have information, they have to get it.
“Credits are what drives everyone to do everything,” Sylar says. Her kind blue eyes are hard now, and glinting with suppressed anger. “Credits are what propelled Brimstone to rape your world for its metals all those years ago, Trell.”
Aethon’s chest tightens, the memories of the years that Brimstone mined on Freehail - the rising ocean levels, the stink of dead fish on the black sand beaches, the clouds of exhaust blackening the sky - vivid in his mind.
“I know both of you are more concerned with the credits this bounty will bring you over anything else,” Sylar says scathingly. “But my concerns are the regular people who find themselves crushed under the weight of these corps. I care about them - about helping them. If you want a favor that will help you catch Montrose, you need to do something for me.”
Aethon’s chest burns with anger at the implication that he values credits over people's lives. Everything he’s done as a bounty hunter has been to create a safer place for regular people.
“Sylar,” he says slowly. “Maeve and I suspect that Daik Montrose is wanted by Brimstone for stealing information and selling it to Dreadnought. Can you at least confirm that?”
Sylar inclines her head. “Yes. I have it from a reliable source that Montrose is bringing information about newly discovered planets and their survey data to Dreadnought.”
Aethon feels a surge of satisfaction at having deduced that correctly. Maeve glances over at him, her expression pleased.
“We need to get to the Tri-Centauri system before Daik does,” Aethon says. “Before Daik is ensconced on some Dreadnought-run world.” He meets Sylar’s eyes. “Could you get us access codes for the hyper-jump point in the Tri-Centauri system?” He watches as Sylar’s face closes off. He wonders how difficult it would be for her to get them hyper-jump point access codes. Maybe she can’t. The air feels tense, and Aethon watches as Maeve shifts minutely in her seat.
Finally, Sylar nods slowly. “It would cost me about fifteen favors - but I could do it. I could - but I won’t.”
Maeve looks over at Aethon and nods before turning back to Sylar. “Is there something we could do for you that would make you change your mind?” she asks.
Sylar chuckles dryly and shakes her head. “I told you where my concerns lie. With people affected by these corps. You can’t give me what I need.”
“Try us,” Aethon says.
Sylar clucks her tongue and folds her arms across her chest. “I need safe transport for twenty-five people off a planet and to a specific drop point.”
Maeve glances around at the small interior of the Archer. “We can probably fit that many people in here as long as the trip isn’t more than a day.”
But as Sylar leans forward Aethon is sure there’s more to this request. “The fit isn’t going to be the problem,” she replies, her eyes narrow. “I need you to pick them up without setting off the planetary defenses or alerting the local government.”
It’s an almost impossible request. Most planets with any kind of civilization have computerized systems set up for defense and landing requests. And it sounds like the planet Sylar is talking about must be extremely secure - or extremely dangerous - if she hasn’t been able to get these people off the planet herself with the resources she has at her disposal.
Then Maeve looks over at Aethon with a mischievous smile and he remembers that she has a mirror-cloak on the Archer. With the mirror-cloak, they can move stealthily through a planet's defenses without alerting anyone of their presence. Sylar’s request suddenly doesn’t seem so difficult. He returns her grin, wanting to kiss that wicked mouth of hers.
“I think we can swing that,” Aethon says, turning back to Sylar. “What planet?”
Sylar shakes her head and folds her arms across her chest with a sigh. “Tellamar.”