Evan August

  Emerald Strauss

  Emerald

  Emerald and Nia sat across from each other in Emerald’s office on the Gamma Ray. Both of them were silent as Emerald pulled a bottle of water from the small fridge under her desk. She took a long sip from the container, doing her best to drive away the dull pain of her hangover. Putting the drink down, she kneaded her paw pads into her temples for a moment before finally focusing on the disturbed felanid.

  “For someone who agreed not to use her ‘gift’ on Evan, you sure did seem pretty affected after touching him,” the fox said bitterly.

  Nia scoffed. “Gift? Most felanids unlucky enough to be born as empathic-psychics would disagree. How many times have I complained to you about how uncomfortable it is to walk through a crowd? To be overloaded with that many thoughts and emotions? You know it’s not something I can just turn off.” The Persian fumed, a scowl plain on her face.

  Emerald was unsympathetic, however. “Curb your bitching, Nia. Because half the time when you look at Evan, it sure as hell looks like it’s a conscious effort. So forgive my reluctance to take you at your word that this was an accident.” Emerald spoke accusingly, a scowl forming on her face that was then replaced by a wince. She reached for the bottle of water, taking a moment to have another sip.

  “Why would I force the issue, Em? We just had a discussion about respecting his privacy on the walkway into town. You know I wouldn’t violate your trust like that.” Nia pleaded to her friend with a fist clutched to her heart, the felanid genuinely hurt by the accusation.

  “Then what caused you to react like that?” Emerald asked, almost pleading.

  Nia slouched back in her chair and ran a hand through the fur on her head, claws out just enough so she could feel the tingle on her skull. “Most people are open books, Em. They don’t hide their thoughts because they consider their minds sacred and sacrosanct. Walking past open minds like that is almost… loud, for lack of a better term.” Nia looked at Emerald to make sure she was following along. Emerald, for her part, motioned for Nia to continue.

  Nia nodded and did so. “Most Gerallian nobles have enough knowledge to teach their kids to hide most of their thoughts. With you, the only thing I can hear is that sometimes you think your orders aloud before you say them. It’s like hearing it twice. Or when you were practically glued to Evan yesterday—every time another woman came near him you practically radiated hostility, your surface mind practically blaring ‘back off.’” Nia said the last part with a half-hearted smile while Emerald blushed slightly.

  Nia didn’t stop for her to respond. “Ratchet, on the other hand, has no formal training, but he must have heard some of the rumors floating around the corners of the holonet regarding mind-reading felanids.” Nia shook her head quietly, thinking to herself that another psychic must have seriously dropped the ball or outright violated their oath for knowledge like that to leak. “Most of the time his mind is mildly guarded, but his thoughts drift through. When he thinks I may be listening, he gets a song stuck in his head that hides most of his thoughts. Except when he’s working on the ships—then his thoughts leak out like a documentary. Not that I can follow any of it, which I suppose is proof of his expertise.” Nia admitted this as she fondly spoke of the small fennec.

  Emerald saw where this was going and, taking a guess, spoke up. “But as you’ve told me before, Evan’s different,” the fox said dryly.

  Nia nodded. “Among everyone I’ve ever encountered, he has one of the most well-defended non-psychic minds I’ve ever come across. I have to actively concentrate to even see those.” Nia chuckled while shaking her head with incredulity. “Yesterday, the only time I passively heard his thoughts was when you were screaming ‘back off.’ He kept thinking how glad he was to have his power armor on, because otherwise he’d have been a stuttering mess.” Nia lost the trauma in her eyes as she smiled at her friend. “You know you’re the only woman he’s ever around where he’s not worried about being a ‘furry,’ whatever that means.”

  Emerald took on a confused look, glancing at her snow-white fur. “I think my fur’s quite pretty, though,” she said with a cocked head, her earlier anger gone for the moment.

  Nia genuinely laughed. “So does he. Doesn’t make much sense, does it?” Her smile then died down. “Those aren’t the only ones that slip through, though. Sometimes when he’s sitting on the couch holding that old compad, I get a feeling of homesickness worse than I’ve ever felt. But more than that—it’s unshakable, like there’s nothing I can ever do to go back. When his emotions bleed off like that, if I focus hard enough, I can see memories. The world he’s from… it’s nothing like the Thall homeworld I was taught about.” Nia’s eyes clouded with wonder and curiosity.

  Emerald leaned forward, her own curiosity and drive to learn more about Evan overpowering her shame for violating his privacy. “What’s it like?” she asked, eyes wide.

  “It’s strange. The surface covered with cities like Gerral, but sprinkled with communities and suburbs you’d see on a family colony. Then there’s the technology—most of their ships look so archaic you’d think they were straight out of a history book. Just like his compad.” Nia’s face bore a look of deep concentration. She then took a deep breath and sighed deeply, shuddering as she did so. “When I touched him at the restaurant, I didn’t have to concentrate at all. A single image flooded my mind. A field of violet flowers… and a man screaming.” The haunted look returned to Nia’s eyes. “The terror and despair in that memory were beyond reason. The kind of deep, intense emotions that I’ve only felt in asylums. The only thing that held his mind together was a deeper emotion that I didn’t grab onto.”

  Emerald perked up at that last statement. “What do you mean you didn’t grab onto it?” she asked, a hundred questions passing through her mind.

  “When I say the memory latched onto me, I mean it. I had to escape it. I don’t know what would have happened if I had touched that memory. But if it was stronger than those emotions, I promise you it’d be nothing good.” Nia spoke with finality, beginning to shake.

  Emerald’s earlier attitude was forgotten as she came around the desk to bring her friend into an embrace. She had never seen Nia so affected by her gift before. She slowly stroked the back of Nia’s head as the felanid’s breathing began to steady. This took around ten minutes.

  Nia was calm this time, though steady tears flowed down her face. “Em, this is what I’m feeling just from touching that for a moment. What’s Evan going through?”

  Emerald’s heart ached as she looked at her oldest friend, this hidden side of her surfacing only when exposed to the most intense emotions. The Persian’s psychic ability had been the source of many struggles for the young woman. But more than that—hearing and feeling the emotions of others had led to the development of a deep sense of empathy. Her lazy facade was just that—a facade. In reality, Nia was unable to see another being suffer unjustly. It was what caused the two of them to meet to begin with.

  “I’ll go stay with him. Go get some rest, Nia,” Emerald ordered softly, to which the felanid nodded, getting up to head to bed. Emerald placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

  “Wait.” Nia turned around. Emerald pulled her into another hug. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that.” Nia smiled and returned her embrace. After a moment, Nia broke the hug, gave Emerald a nod, and finally went to bed.

  Emerald stood in her office alone for a few minutes, finishing the rest of her water and organizing her desk. Then she left for the med-bay.

  The lonely quiet of the Gamma Ray’s living areas gave her mind room to think. Her attraction to Evan was plain to see. She thought about what started it, and her mind drifted back to various home videos people had taken of his flights and dogfights. They displayed a pilot of considerable skill, far above that of the common pirate and raider he so often fought. There was no hesitancy when he pulled off maneuvers where failure meant death, giving way to an image of a confident pilot. Which, all things considered, Evan was. When in his element, the man exuded a silent confidence and self-assured attitude that anyone would find attractive in the opposite sex.

  His social skills were so much of a contrast that she couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. Around people, his confidence was gone—replaced by uncertainty and self-doubt. She had never seen anyone stumble over their words like he did. But he didn’t back down. He stayed in the heat, never retreating from the awkward situation, instead powering through.

  Then there was how he treated her. He never deviated from seeing her as anything other than a friend. Not a noble, not a highborn, or even an other, as so many of the different species throughout the Nova System viewed races besides their own.

  As she had this thought, she arrived at the med-bay. Her gaze locked onto Evan’s sleeping form the moment she walked in. Grabbing a chair from the desk, she placed it next to the head of Evan’s bed. Currently he was flat on the cot with no helmet. The locks in place on his armor prevented them from removing any other piece. Not that it hindered anything. Physically he was healthy as could be. Mentally it appeared he carried baggage none of them knew about. That being said, it seemed whatever mental trauma had surfaced earlier had since receded back to the recesses of the thall’s mind. His sleeping face was calm, a stark contrast to the one that had seemed nothing short of outright agony when they removed his helmet earlier.

  Emerald didn’t know how long she sat there, but as she gazed at his sleeping form, she felt a small smile grace her lips as the weight of her eyelids continued to increase. Nia had all but told her the attraction was mutual. It took a sizable chunk of her willpower not to preen at the knowledge that Evan found her fur pretty.

  Her last thought before drifting to sleep: I’m going to make this stumbling dork fall hard.

  Evan

  Have you ever found a smell nostalgic? Really, think about it. So often you think of something like an old commercial or time spent with a relative who’s no longer here. In recent years I’d come to find the smell of knot wood almost comforting. Knot wood is a type of tree that only grows in very specific conditions. From what I remember, it needs to be temperate year-round, but never rising above what most would consider chilly. Normally you could cultivate such things in a controlled artificial environment. But for whatever reason, knot wood lost a lot of its properties when grown like that. Namely it lost its dark, chocolate-brown coloring and its distinct smell. This made naturally cultivated knot wood a luxury good throughout the entirety of both the Federation and the Empire.

  So when I suddenly found myself in my old room, the first thing I noticed was the knot wood desk my friend and teacher had given me. Not that said desk was the only luxury in that room. The bed I had just made was covered in sheets and comforters made of a material that would make silk blush, while the hand-carved headboard looked like something out of a historical church rather than something I’d painfully bump my head on every night. The walls were hand-painted with a large mural of an Armored Precursor extending a hand to an almost tribally dressed simian-like creature I’d come to know as a Polluxi.

  Before I could further examine the fondly remembered room, a knock sounded at my door.

  “Evan, I’m coming in,” a distinctly feminine voice announced.

  A moment later the door opened and in walked a woman in an opulent dress. Behind her stood two people covered head-to-toe in power armor, one of them moving to follow her in but stopped by a withering glare from the woman in question. Shutting the door behind her, she then turned and gave me a winning smile.

  This was Cynthia, one of my closest friends. She was also my teacher and instructor, and had been so for the last year.

  “So… how’s your study of history going?” she asked, looking at the open book on my desk.

  I smiled and responded. “Very well, honestly. Galactic history prior to the Bounty Hunter’s Association seems like a wild time. How’d the outer worlds even get by?” I asked, falling in line with the memory.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Simmy (a nickname I gave her based on her simian-like appearance—not that I ever told her that) laughed and dog-eared the page I was on before turning ahead about fifteen pages.

  “By forming smaller governments, typically unbeholden to the powers at large. At the time it worked well for the core worlds of both the Empire and the Federation, as long as they paid their tithes. But with the development of fighters capable of independent interstellar travel, things became more complicated.” She pointed to a section of the page corresponding to the information she was giving. The subtitle—The Rise of Piracy—left little to the imagination.

  “Prior to this, every fighter needed to be hauled by a ship large enough to hold an interstellar drive. Which meant pirates needed carriers. As you can imagine, this barrier to entry meant most pirates were either planet-locked or only struck when in orbit. This meant PDFs often stopped pirates before they even boarded their targets.” Simmy explained animatedly, talking with her hands as she often did.

  “So when the barrier of entry to interstellar piracy dropped to the price of a single fighter, their numbers soared?” I asked, already picturing a group of seven to ten fighters dropping out of FTL only to swarm a luxury transport.

  Simmy nodded, her uncanny smile wide. “Exactly. Now, prior to this, the militaries of both major powers were able to deal with the occasional pirate carrier dropping out of FTL and attacking a frigate or transporter. But once every down-on-her-luck Lucy was able to spend a couple weeks’ wages and buy a used Heward to turn their fortunes around, the military was no longer able to respond effectively to every pirate attack.”

  She turned the page. The next page was covered entirely by the western half of the Nova System—a heat map color-coding areas of pirate attacks by intensity. The core worlds in particular had so much red it nearly obscured the depictions of the planets themselves, with the systems containing Gerral and Felnis being completely obscured. Near the bottom of the page, the suspected number of pirates vs. active military personnel was nearly identical.

  “This would have overwhelmed the militaries of both governments,” I concluded. Simmy nodded sagely.

  “Correct. As things got worse, the cultural core worlds practically abandoned outer worlds and literally abandoned fringe worlds.” She grabbed some objects on my desk—namely three small models of fighters—using them to represent the core, outer, and fringe worlds. She spaced them far apart to simulate the growing divide between them.

  As she finished, she looked at me expectantly. I was confused at first until suddenly I made the connection she wanted me to.

  “This led to the outer and fringe worlds stopping their tithes and using their own defenders,” I concluded, excitement rising.

  Simmy nodded with her own excitement. “Yep. Then some of the defenders realized they were better at hunting pirates than whatever day job currently occupied them. So many of them started selling their services to nearby planets, offering to take out nearby pirates in return for payment. Ultimately their costs would always be cheaper than the price of not dealing with the pirates.”

  She turned the page again—another heat map. I didn’t see much difference at first. The core worlds were still clogged with pirate activity, as were the outer worlds. But then I looked at the fringe worlds and saw activity had fallen off sharply. Previously yellow areas had almost no hot coloring, indicating a near lack of pirate activity.

  Simmy continued. “Before long, pirates decided these fringe worlds were more trouble than they were worth and focused their efforts on more centralized worlds. Unluckily for them, blood was already in the water. The new pilots who had made fortunes hunting pirates followed them. Soon they were offering their services to outer world governments.” She paused again, giving me room to draw conclusions.

  “I’m guessing the outer worlds were more than happy to have these problem solvers show up at their doorstep,” I posited.

  Simmy shook her head.

  “Unfortunately, no. Many of these early bounty hunters outright extorted local governments for payment. Their prices were so high that many outer worlds followed the fringe world example of keeping their tithes to help pay off the bounty hunters. Fortunately for the outer worlds, this ploy worked and pirate activity dropped significantly. Unfortunately, the core worlds began to suffer. With no tithes, the core worlds began to wither under constant pirate assaults.”

  Rather than returning to the book, she plopped down on my bed. “Enough about that for now, though. Let’s see how your other lessons have gone,” she said with a mocking grin.

  I let out a groan. She loved to play this game where she randomly quizzed me. Then she’d always follow up with—

  “There’s a test next week. I gotta make sure you studied.” She smiled coyly, kicking her legs back and forth off the side of my bed.

  The juxtaposition of this high-ranking Polluxi woman constantly swapping personalities from refined noble to ditzy teen always threw me off.

  “So, first question: name me a situation where a shield is a handicap and not a boon.” As she said this, she messed with the watch-like device on her wrist until the representation for the number 30 appeared. “Time’s a-ticking,” she said, pointing at the countdown. She then muttered quietly, “Wonder where they got that phrase from?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Which question do you want an answer to?”

  She grimaced before pointing at me. “No distractions. Answer the question!”

  Rolling my eyes, I humored her. “Shields are a handicap when forced into close-quarters fighting where melee is a possibility. Typically this is when combat personnel are dealing with dangerous local fauna. This is doubly true due to the fact that any damage to the shield’s casing will result in a near-fatal radiation leak to anyone without a functioning shield of their own.” I rested my chin on my knuckle and motioned for the next question with my other hand.

  Simmy nodded in approval. “Very good. Next question! Why are kinetic weapons rare, and why is power armor not favored?” This time she didn’t bother with a timer and instead mimicked my pose.

  “Modern power armor is expensive and slow, making it ineffective in offensive situations. Precursor armor is the only exception to this rule, but the rarity of armor usable by the uplifted makes it a pipe dream. Kinetic weapons and ammunition are exorbitantly expensive to mass produce. Only local dealers and manufacturers who specialize in their production make reliable products.” She tilted her head and widened her eyes, motioning for me to add more. “Which means that if you plan on using said weapons, you need to know how to maintain them yourself and know most manufacturers so that you can procure ammunition.”

  I took a deep breath as I finished the long-winded explanation. She finally gave a nod of approval.

  “Okay, we done now? You said we were going to go practice flying again today,” I said impatiently.

  She nodded but then smiled coyly. “One final question. We’ll focus on history since that seems to be your favorite subject. Who were the Precursors?” She flopped onto her back, closing her eyes as she rested on my bed. “I won’t time you on this one. So be as thorough as you want.”

  I made a flat expression. Every time this monkey flopped down, she would stay like that for at least half an hour. “Oh, come on, Simmy. Don’t lay down. I don’t want to be stuck in here all day,” I complained, the annoyance clear in my voice.

  Sitting up, she let out a sigh of her own. “Fine. Give me the short and sweet. But if I’m not satisfied, we’re doing this the long and hard way.” She wagged a finger at me, struggling to keep a smile from her face.

  I swear she’s as bad as my brother.

  “Precursors were the race of people responsible for uplifting life in the Nova System. These extragalactic beings of advanced technology taught the other races interstellar travel and the Universal Common Tongue.” I looked at her to see if my explanation was enough, but she seemed more annoyed that I ignored her double entendres. I didn’t rise to her pouts and let her stew.

  Letting out a frustrated huff, she finally threw up her arms. “FINE. Let’s go fly some fucking fighters, Killjoy.” She marched over to the door. As usual, she stopped right in front of it before schooling her face and putting her refined noble persona back at the forefront. Opening the door, she turned to me. “Follow me, confidante,” she said with flat authority.

  The two guards outside saluted her and averted their gaze from me. It was something everyone in the facility did and a source of constant frustration for me, as Simmy refused to explain it. Anyway, off we went to the flight deck…

  I felt a slight headache eating at the edges of my mind as I groggily opened my eyes. Finding myself staring at an unfamiliar roof, my mind quickly recycled through all of the rooms I’d ever called my own, trying to find a match. While I was doing that, I noticed I was uncomfortably warm. Twitching my hands, I found I was still in my power armor. Then memories of last night came flooding in.

  Wincing as my breakdown came to the forefront, I spared one last thought for Simmy. My mind then went to my team. They didn’t deserve to deal with that. My embarrassment simmered below the surface as my face heated up. Then it died down as my mind recalled those fields of ruin. The alcohol had brought forward and burned off my terror and despair at that memory. But nothing ever ate away at the rage.

  I went to sit up only to find my chest slightly heavier than I was used to. Looking down, I felt my heart skip a beat as I saw Emerald all but draped across me. Her snow-white fur gave her a look any sane man could only ever identify as immaculate. As I calmed down, I turned my head to see Ratchet and Nia also in the room—the med-bay, I now realized. Both of them were passed out on other cots. From the fact that their own blankets were covering them rather than the thin ones used in the med-bay, I could tell they came here on their own.

  I felt my chest warm as I realized my friends had all come to check on me. I also felt my guilt amplify at making them worry.

  Emerald stirred on my chest, her green eyes fluttering open. I assumed she would shoot off me, not wanting to be seen attached to a man completely unable to read social cues. Instead, once she realized where she was, she simply smiled up at me.

  “Feeling better this morning, Evan?” she asked—no undertone of judgment or derision in her voice, just concern.

  “Yeah, I am. Thank y’all for dragging me back in that state. That wasn’t fair to any of you,” I said, a frown on my face. “That was a burden none of you needed.” I finished with a sigh.

  “Hey, stop that shit, man. You’re not a burden. You’re our teammate. We have your back whether you’re in a fighter or on foot—just like you have ours.” There was no doubt in her words as she said that last part, just the same warm smile on her face that sent shivers down my spine. If Harriet was pretty, this fox was gorgeous.

  The rest of the crew woke up shortly after that, all of them asking how I was. Not a single one was resentful of what I’d put them through. That evening, as we were all heading off to bed, I couldn’t help but feel grateful and indebted to these people. The feeling of belonging that had been absent for years was starting to return, and while none of them asked what had happened, I knew they were curious.

  I resolved then and there that once I had time to adjust, I’d tell them everything.

  Four Months Later — Emerald

  It had been nearly half a year since Evan had initially joined the Gamma Hounds. Since then, his name had become as ubiquitous to the team as any of the others. His reputation as a hunter had continued to grow.

  In the time that had passed, the Hounds had completed a number of bounties and missions, further boosting their reputation. Emerald currently sat in her office going through paperwork and filings. The stack on her desk was noticeably shorter than it would have been last year—likely due to the fact that the tax documents were neatly filed and organized off to the side. Another benefit of their thall teammate.

  Her smile widened as her thoughts once again drifted to him. His bond with each of the members had only grown since he joined. Hardly a day went by where Evan and Ratchet weren’t in the hangar messing with their fighters—something Emerald joined in often enough. When they weren’t doing that, they were in the lounge playing the latest game.

  The bond the two of them now shared was similar to the one Emerald and Nia held. Evan and Nia always bantered with each other as neither had a filter. The two of them made most movie nights that much more entertaining as they gave their commentary over shitty movies—though they at least knew when a movie was good enough for them to shut up.

  While Evan had grown closer to the whole team, he and Emerald were especially so. This extended to time on missions and in between them. They had built an unspoken rapport while in their fighters that led to almost an instinctual understanding of what the other was planning. During their off time, they often spent time just talking about different things.

  To Emerald’s disappointment, he was still guarded about his past. There were more than a few times where he went to speak on it but found himself lost for words. It was as if he wanted to, but something always held him back.

  Evan had asked to meet her this evening to discuss what he described as an important topic. Which led to where she was now—idly doing paperwork as she waited for Evan. Truth be told, she wasn’t getting much done, as her mind danced between possibilities, fantasizing about what he would ask. Inwardly hoping he had finally found the courage to—

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  A red flash was going off on her desk compad—something that only happened when it was a direct military request. A flash of annoyance and regret went through her mind as she answered the call.

  Her uncle Oscar’s face took up the display screen, his eyes lacking their usual jovial glow.

  Before Emerald could so much as offer a greeting, he spoke. “Emerald Strauss, I’m calling today on behalf of the Gerallian Government. Before disclosing the contract to you, I must inform you that all information about it is classified. Should you accept, only you and your team may know about it, and it will appear differently on your mission record. You and your teammates will be held accountable should any information leaks occur.” The man’s expression was stern and weary.

  As soon as he finished, however, his paternal affection toward the arctic fox returned. “Sorry for the serious spiel. But this is an important mission, and the Crown and Central are both requesting that only hunters with a noble background be considered.”

  Emerald leaned back in her chair, a serious expression on her face as she contemplated the opportunity. “The pay?” she finally asked.

  “Substantial,” Oscar replied.

  “How long will this deployment take? You know we’re currently on the fringe. I can’t imagine a direct request from the homeworld would be for something out here,” Emerald probed, watching her uncle’s expression closely.

  The red fox nodded. “You’d be correct. The mission will require you to return to the Geral system. The briefing itself will take place directly on Geral.” He said this last part with reluctance as Emerald let out a sigh.

  Of course it does.

  Probably some self-important lay-about wanting to inflate his sense of importance by making hunters come to him—especially one who’s a noble.

  Emerald sneered internally.

  Tink.

  The sound drew both of their attention as they turned to see Evan leaning against the doorframe to her office. Emerald nodded at him, which he returned.

  “How long do I have to decide?” she finally asked, turning her attention back to Oscar.

  “Central wants an answer within the next two hours. Discuss it with your crew and get back to me.” With that, the call ended.

  Emerald let out a sigh and looked to Evan, who wore a complicated expression.

  “How much of that did you hear?” she asked.

  “Pretty much all of it.” He frowned slightly before continuing. “Guess we’ll have to have that conversation later, Em.” The regret was clear in his voice.

  Emerald gave him an apologetic look. Getting up from her chair, she moved to leave the office, stepping past Evan, who followed her out.

  Leaving the empty office—and lingering feelings—behind them, for now.