The shuttle in the hangar bay of Staging Facility Number 117 was soundproof, its titanium-alloy walls gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lighting. Which was good for the ones inside because of all the yelling.
"THIS is supposed to be the best? You said you could get in and get what I asked for!" The angry voice bellowed, reverberating off the cramped interior walls.
Captain Ironbelly was not a patient fellow. The black-furred pantheran, with shoulders broad enough to block a doorway, shifted uncomfortably in the too-small space. His green eyes narrowed to slits as his tail flicked violently against the metal floor. The contract papers, still visible on his holo-pad, glowed with an ominous light. He'd taken this job against his better judgment, but the promise of finding that specific artifact on a hell planet had been too tempting to resist.
His cyber guru, a gnome barely reaching his waist, adjusted her iridescent goggles and bit her lower lip to suppress a laugh. The captain's whiskers—two of them stark white against his ebony fur—twitched with each irritated breath. His massive paws flexed, revealing retractable claws that could shred bone. Despite his attempts at menace, she found him utterly adorable with that fluffy mane framing his scowling face. Not that she'd ever admit it—the captain could still be a colossal jerk when crossed.
So she did what she usually did and responded in kind, her high-pitched voice cracking with indignation. "And I did! The algorithm I wrote was FLAWLESS!" She jabbed a finger at her holo-screen, where lines of emerald code still scrolled. "The right amount of failures so it didn't look suspicious, enough low syncs for the legion, and ONE high sync with the BEST core available. Those were your stipulations, you tub of lard!" Her face flushed crimson against her pale skin. "I can't help it that you ALSO wanted a giant!"
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
"Hmph." Ironbelly crossed his massive arms over his barrel chest, the worn leather of his captain's vest straining at the seams. The bench beneath him—bolted to the wall and rated for cargo—groaned with effort. "Didn't want no giant, but dammit, Thimble, look at the monitor!" He extended a claw toward the screen, its surface reflecting in his eyes. "Hims the most boring looking draft I've ever seen! Didn't think I needed to micromanage aesthetics!"
For the first time in several minutes, no one said anything. Seated quietly on a weapons locker was a female human in full armor, her expression as cold as the void of space. Her black plate armor, etched with pulsing blue runes that occasionally sparked with arcane energy, reflected none of the shuttle's light. Her enormous battleaxe, its edge honed to molecule-thin sharpness, rested with its head on the floor, the long handle propped against her pauldron. The air around her seemed to drop several degrees as her patience wore thin.
She cleared her throat, the sound forced as if not used to speaking. "Does any of this change what we are here to do? If not, then let us get moving." Her voice carried the weight of command despite its softness. "We should reserve judgment till we discover more."
The captain's ears twitched as he grumbled, "Siva's right. Don't matter. Past the rubicon now." He tapped his wrist comm, bringing up a three-dimensional map of their destination. "Load up everyone. Sync your comms. Lock up the shuttle. Non-lethal countermeasures." His fangs gleamed as he added, "Let's make some money."
