Emerald

  ~One Week After the First Training Simulation~

  It was early in the morning, an hour or two before anyone else would be awake. In those quiet hours, Emerald sat alone in her room on the edge of her bed, brushing her tail. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Evan’s shot—that shot.

  He had taken out two Argonauts with one pull of the trigger. Not only that, he’d bought the team the time they needed to deal with the other two. It had been a week, and she still couldn’t get over the absurdity of it. She had mentally thanked her uncle more times than she could count for helping her recruit Evan.

  Even if I were to disregard his stellar piloting skills, his performance during foot simulations was stellar. The only issue I can even think of is the anxiety he seems to take on when he doesn’t have his helmet. He’s slowly starting to trust the team. It’s obvious he’s trying. He shares stuff he’s clearly uncomfortable with just to try and build that trust with us. It’s fucking adorable. A predatory smile started to form on Emerald’s muzzle at that thought, but it was immediately wiped from her face as a more sobering one replaced it. He hasn’t outright said it, but based on his avoidance of topics such as family or friends, it’s blatantly obvious he has nowhere to go back to. Emerald frowned at that thought. All the more reason to give him a place to belong. I will not let this team fall apart again. She thought with no small amount of resolve.

  She looked at her clock. Everyone else would be waking soon.

  Emerald was not much of a breakfast person, even though she usually rose early. She did, however, enjoy a good coffee. Ten minutes later, she was sitting in the dimly lit lounge, nursing a cup. It wasn’t long before one of her teammates walked in.

  Evan entered the lounge and made his way, slow and languid, over to the sink. He grabbed one of the cups from his section of the cupboard, filled it with a small amount of water, then set it down. From his pocket, he pulled a prescription bottle and tapped two small pills into his hand.

  Emerald silently approached, peering around him to glimpse the label as he swallowed the pills with a sip of water.

  Densolox.

  Emerald drew in a sharp breath through her teeth. The sound made Evan jump.

  “JESUS!” He whirled around, hand clutching his chest, and saw Emerald. “H… how long have you been here?”

  “Since you walked in,” she said evenly, her eyes still fixed on the pill bottle.

  He followed her gaze and frowned. “Yeah. Not a fun time,” he admitted with a grimace.

  “That stuff’s for people who work in low-gravity environments,” she said, watching his face for an explanation.

  “My native gravity is double the average of the rest of the Nova System,” Evan said with a shrug. “Not much I can do about it, except a very expensive genetic procedure.”

  Emerald nodded. While rare, his case wasn’t unique.

  “The muscle aches from that are supposed to hurt like a bitch. How’re you handling the pain?” she asked.

  Evan shrugged again. “It sucks, but it’s nowhere near the pain from this.” He lifted his shirt, revealing a severe scar with poorly approximated edges. “Got stabbed by a Pollox defector. Knife was coated with Roc venom. Spent six days in a Gerralian military hospital.” Emerald’s stomach tightened. She had seen Roc venom wounds before—necrotizing flesh, nerve endings that never fully healed. That he’d survived at all spoke to a stubbornness she’d only seen beneath his quiet exterior.

  Emerald reached out, fingertips brushing the scar. Evan’s face twitched, but for once, he didn’t flinch or pull back.

  The sound of another door opening interrupted them. Nia walked in, raising a paw to cover her mouth. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said, her tone dripping with suggestion. Nia leaned against the doorframe, ears perked, eyes glittering with mischief. Evan nearly choked on his own breath and yanked his shirt down.

  “PISS OFF, NIA!” Emerald barked.

  The Felinid snickered and darted back through the door.

  Emerald and Evan stood awkwardly for a moment before Evan coughed and they both sat back down. The conversation was dropped for now, both returning to the table.

  The morning proceeded as usual from there. There were no planned drills today—the team had agreed the only way to improve coordination now was through live bounties. They could all use the break. Unfortunately, their off day was interrupted by an unexpected development.

  The Orvon Solar System

  ~3 Light Years away from Horizon’s Retreat Space Station~

  Heward was a household name. Bounty hunters knew them for their fighter models, manufactured under the Heward Aerospace brand. But that wasn’t their most profitable venture. The company had originally been founded as Heward Mining Operations—HMO—well known as the largest distributor of rare minerals.

  Near the solar center of the Orvon System lay an asteroid belt, unique for its close proximity to the star. The conditions had led to the formation of unusual mineral deposits, making it a lucrative hub for long-term mining operations.

  Avern Kull was not an adventurous man. He had no taste for violence despite his large size. Bovans in general were laid-back people. What Avern did have a taste for was hard work—followed by a large payday.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  He had spent most of the day prospecting asteroids along the inner rim of the belt, with nothing to show for it. With a sigh, he glanced at the central interface where a digital clock read 1631.

  Sometimes you just have bad luck, he thought bitterly.

  On a whim, he decided to scan one more asteroid. He usually ended his day around 1700, so he resolved to keep going until he found one that “felt right.”

  Fifteen minutes later, he came across an unremarkable mid-sized asteroid.

  “This one,” he muttered.

  He hit the blue button, activating his harvester’s scan. To his surprise and delight, the results pinged back—a half-ton deposit of osmium.

  The cow-like man whooped and maneuvered his vessel onto a flat surface. He donned his vacuum suit, exited the craft, and with practiced efficiency, tethered the ship to the asteroid. With another press of a button, four mining drills descended the tethers, and he engaged the gathering vacuum.

  The device sucked up the mined material, scanning it rapidly. Valueless debris was ejected out a secondary port while the valuable ore collected in the ship’s repository—capacity: three cubic meters.

  Avern hummed in giddy excitement. Early retirement, here I come.

  Halfway through extraction, his comm array picked up chatter. Not unusual—hundreds of miners were contracted in the belt at any given time. He normally kept the comm-pad’s volume low to avoid distraction, but this came through the emergency frequency.

  “Anyone still in the asteroid belt, return to Space Station 13 immediately. Sixteen confirmed Rusted Reavers have entered the system. They are targeting harvesters and abandoning pilots on the asteroids. No confirmed deaths yet, but rescue operations are delayed until the Reavers are dealt with. Bounty hunters are en route. Do not wait. Evacuate immediately.”

  Avern cursed, checking his repository. He had only extracted half. With reluctance, he disengaged the tethers, climbed back into his harvester, and marked the asteroid on his comm-pad. He could always return once the situation was resolved.

  For thirty minutes, he flew toward Space Station 13, keeping his ship on low power to reduce his scanner profile. When the station finally came into view beyond the last wall of asteroids, he sighed in relief.

  Then the entire ship shook.

  A communication ping lit up his panel. He glanced upward before answering. Through the cockpit glass, three Rusted Brown Hewards and an Argonaut lurked on the underside of an asteroid.

  Knowing better than to ignore them, he accepted the hail.

  A scarred rat’s face filled his screen.

  “Hello there, friend. We just happened to be in the area and saw your ship passing by.” The rat snickered, amused with himself. “Now, I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t a wanted man. But I’d also be lying if I said I was wanted for murder. So here’s what’s happening. You’re going to park right here, next to me and my friends. You’re going to hand me your ship’s key. Then we’re going to tether it and leave. With how close we are, it’s guaranteed you’ll be rescued. You live to see another day and we get our loot. Everybody wins. How does that sound?”

  Avern gritted his teeth but moved to comply.

  “Ah-ah. I want to hear your answer before you start moseying over.” The rat taunted.

  “That sounds great,” Avern forced out through clenched teeth.

  “Good. I’m so glad we understand each other.”

  Emerald

  It was late in the evening when the Gamma Ray received an incoming call from the Gerralian military. Emerald answered, finding an unfamiliar officer on the screen.

  “This is Emerald Strauss of the Gamma Hounds,” she said in greeting.

  The officer, a pit bull with a serious expression, nodded. “I am Captain Kennerd of the Gerralian regiment of the Federation Navy. I am reaching out to all monikered hunters aboard Horizon’s Retreat regarding a distress signal we just received from Space Station 13 in the Orvon System.”

  Emerald’s ears perked. The captain continued.

  “At 1700 hours, sixteen fighters bearing the emblems and colors of the Rusted Reavers entered the asteroid belt. They began stealing every harvester they could find. So far, six casualties have been reported—miners who refused their demands.” He paused, gauging her reaction.

  “What’s the bounty per Reaver?” Emerald asked.

  “Five thousand zorkmeds each, and twelve hundred for every recovered harvester. We’ve also confirmed one Reaver piloting an Argonaut. Only a dozen or so of them fly Argos—if you can identify him, the reward will be significantly larger.”

  The payout was good, but Emerald had one concern. “You said you were contacting all monikered hunters. How many are on the station right now?”

  The captain scrolled through a screen. “Including your team, six total. The other squad is a two-man group called Harriet’s Harriers. With all that in mind—will you take the bounty?”

  Emerald only needed a moment. She’d heard of the Harriers. Nothing stellar, but a solid reputation.

  “We will.”

  The captain grinned. “Good luck, hunters.”

  Emerald nodded, reaching to cut the feed, but the captain stopped her.

  “One last thing. Make sure you identify the Argonaut pilot. The station governor wants him alive.”

  Emerald frowned. “We’ll do what we can. But he’s a Reaver. The governor’s wants don’t supersede Federation KOS permissions for recognized pirates. If push comes to shove, we’ll blast that shithead to pieces.”

  The captain held her gaze. “Understood, Miss Strauss.”

  Emerald cut the call before he could add more stipulations. She tapped the ship-wide broadcast.

  “Gamma Hounds, we just got a bounty commission. Monikered only, so payday’s going to be big. Report to the lounge for briefing.”

  Five minutes later, the Arctic fox stepped into the lounge. Unlike that morning, everyone was gathered. Nia and Ratchet wore jumpsuits and Gamma Hound flight jackets. Evan was in his power suit—helmet absent, for once.

  A smile tugged at Emerald’s muzzle. She caught the tail end of a conversation between Evan and Ratchet.

  “…yeah, I was just surprised we were getting briefed in here.”

  The fennec snorted. “What’d you expect, a war room?”

  Evan gave a small nod. “Kinda.”

  Nia snorted, Ratchet rolled his eyes. Evan opened his mouth to reply, then stopped as he saw Emerald. He smirked faintly and nodded.

  “Em,” he greeted.

  Everyone stared. The silence was heavy enough to fill the lounge. Ratchet raised his brows in surprise, Nia’s whiskers twitched with amusement, and even the hum of the ventilation seemed to hold its breath. Evan’s smirk faltered under the weight of their stares. Emerald cocked her head, processing the nickname. Then her smile grew as she sauntered closer.

  “Em, huh? Pretty presumptive, calling your boss that,” she teased.

  Nia and Ratchet fought to suppress grins.

  But instead of looking flustered, Evan looked almost hurt. “Sorry. Guess that was too far.”

  Emerald tapped his armored chest to get his attention. “I was picking, Shades. Don’t take everything to heart. You’re part of the team.”

  Evan glanced at the others. Whatever he saw seemed to steady him. “Sorry. Sometimes I don’t do well reading the room.”

  Ratchet snorted. Nia clipped him behind the ear.

  With Evan settled, Emerald launched into the briefing. Straightforward enough. Still, Evan frowned.

  “Concerns?” she asked.

  He nodded. “That bit about the Argo is bad news.”

  “You sound certain,” Nia said.

  “More of a hunch,” Evan admitted. “Whole situation screams politics.”

  Emerald nodded. “So what then?” Nia pressed.

  “Nothing. By bringing it up, the captain basically put us on the spot. All we can do is be cautious.”

  Emerald turned to the others. “Any concerns?”

  Both shook their heads.

  “Alright. Ratchet, enter the nav coordinates into the Gamma Ray.”

  The fennec nodded and left for the cockpit.

  Evan looked confused. “The Gamma Ray?”

  Nia rolled her eyes. “That’s the name of our carrier, Mr. Black Shadow.”

  Evan’s face went flat. “Oh.”

  And with that, the Gamma Hounds set course for their next bounty—Evan’s first with the team.