Rächerin limped into a port controlled by the Tai-Okeeq. They held several systems, though were nowhere near as powerful as the Troika. Between Kalypso and Gideon’s handiwork, the ship desperately needed an overhaul; luckily for them Nugadh was nearby, had decent drydock facilities, and most importantly...didn’t ask a lot of questions. The port overseer inspected the ship, quoted a price, and sent his crew to begin repairs after the agreed upon credits had been deposited.

Rook handled the details regarding resupply and repairs, while Samara and the others stayed out of sight. Xeno had learned via his implants the response to their escape, and while there wasn’t some crack team of bounty hunters out searching for them, why take chances?

Besides, he’d picked up another stray bit of data, one more on target.

“I have a lead on Jibril,” he told the group, as Persephone listened on the monitor. Rook was making himself scarce as usual; since his foiled attempt on Xeno and the others, he now only appeared to Samara in private, which was probably for the best.

“Where?” she said in even tones.

“According to my intel, he’s conferring with the Aggaaddub, ostensibly to demand reparations for their attack on Freya.”

“Ha!” Kalypso snorted. “If you believe that, I’ve got a ship I’d like to sell you.”

“It’s unlikely they’d be swayed by anything a human might say, even a Clan leader,” Xeno agreed. “As covers go, it’s more threadbare than most, but it gives us a place to start.” Throwing a star map onto the display, he highlighted a system. “They’re meeting on Qiqougii, one of their colony worlds.” He smiled at the others. “Which hopefully means security will be less daunting than usual.”

“If Jibril isn’t there to make the Aggaaddub cough up some weregeld, then why is he on that world?” Samara asked.

“That’s a good question,” Xeno acknowledged. “My best guess at the moment is he’s seeking their protection...specifically, from you.”

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised word got back to him. But if that’s true, then it’s likely they’ve laid a trap for us on Qiqougii.”

The others nodded in agreement, except for Gideon, who was back on his meds. She’d asked why they bothered bringing him at all if he were doped to the eyeballs, but they’d assured her he could still hear and recall details while he was out of it. That he’d come through in the clutch when Rook threatened them was enough to end any objections on her part.

“If that’s true, perhaps we should wait until he’s no longer under their protection,” Persephone suggested. “Getting killed on our first mission seems like an inglorious way to kick things off.”

“We don’t know that’s why he’s there,” Kalypso countered. “It’s just a guess, right?” she said to Xeno.

“An educated guess, based on the evidence,” he pointed out, “but it’s possible he’s there for another reason.”

“Dig into it,” Samara ordered. “I’d like better information one way or the other if we move on this.”

“I am already seeking additional data,” Xeno confirmed. “If I learn anything, I will let you know.”

“You do that,” Samara told him, rising to her feet. “I need to get an update on our repair schedule. If we’re going to be here for any length of time, we might need to look into leasing another ship.”

A pall seemed to suddenly descend on the group as she spoke. “I don’t like him either,” she told them, “though for the moment we’re stuck with Rook. It’s not an ideal situation, I agree, but it could be worse.”

“He was going to murder us in our sleep,” Persephone hissed. “Tell me how it could be worse.”

“Because he’s a known quantity, and he’s paying the bills,” she smirked. “Besides, after what happened I can assure you he’ll be on his best behavior.”

“He’d better be,” Kalypso warned, “though I’d like to know why we don’t just take him out now while we’re docked.”

Samara sighed. “Because I guarantee he’s rigged a Dead man switch since our skirmish. We go after him and it’ll be the last thing we ever do.”

“What limited data I’ve been able to access regarding this vessel, and the Kikush suggests she is correct,” Xeno chimed in. “And unfortunately, there is only one way to test the possibility.”

“Exactly. It’s not worth the risk.” Samara left the others, still debating how to handle their Kikush warden, as she headed for her cabin, locking the hatch behind her. Rook appeared almost immediately.

“I’m assuming you heard all that,” she said.

“Of course,” he said sourly. “I know everything that happens aboard this ship.”

“Good. Hopefully, that will keep you from doing something stupid,” she snorted.

“That goes both ways, Samara of Earth,” he informed her. “You were correct about my insurance clause, should the worst happen. If I’m no longer in control of this vessel, you can safely expect the worst.”

“It was the obvious counter,” she shrugged. “Which means we’re still stuck with one another.”

“As long as you recognize that, I hope that we may continue to labor towards our common goal,” he answered.

“We’ll see,” she said somewhat pointedly, making him squirm. “Where are we at with repairs?”

“Several more days at least,” he reported, glad to be on more familiar ground. “I have requested additional funds to speed up the process.”

“And what did you tell them?” she asked. “I imagine the Head Office was curious what happened to their precious ship.”

The Avatar glowered at her. “I told them there was an undiagnosed flaw in the compression matrix,” he finally answered. “Neither of us benefits should they discover the truth.”

“I suspect they’d disappear us,” she agreed. “Like I said, we’re stuck with each other.”

“So it would seem.” The pair spent several moments contemplating one another before Rook’s image disappeared from the display. Samara sighed and pulled up the data for Nugadh.

As long as they were here, she might as well get the lay of the land.

Ports pretty much all look alike. Once you got past the docked ships, you hit the support facilities; repair yards, refueling stations, and the like. Past those were the warehouses, passenger terminals, and customs, regulating who and what came in or out.

But once you made your past that, you found Sin City.

It didn’t matter the species or type of government, when it came to its economic lifeblood all systems relied on the Three T’s: Trade, Tourism, and Travel. The regulations varied from one world to the next, but no matter how tightly controlled the populace, the rules were always more relaxed at the ports. Traders and merchants came from all across the Perseus Arm, and if you clamped down too tightly on their preferred vices they might take their goods elsewhere. You could still find what you needed if you looked hard enough, but it would cost you.

Easier to just turn a blind eye and keep the spacers happy.

Food, drink, and pharmaceuticals were found in abundance here. Sex was as well, but considering how many species there were, finding a compatible partner was a hit-or-miss proposition. Knick-knack shops abounded, filled with useless trinkets to commemorate your stay, and anything else you might wish to spend your hard-earned credits on. Clothing, luxury items, somebody always knew somebody who could get you what you needed.

And in their wake came the more unsavory elements, those individuals willing to take a more direct approach in filling their purses. Thieves, con men, bandits, they all roamed the streets looking for an easy score. Experienced travelers carried weapons for self-defense when exploring the seedier alleyways, which only meant those preying on them also armed themselves. Even here there was a hierarchy; it was the rare criminal who targeted one of the Troika, for retribution would be both swift and sure. Humans had no such protective aura to keep them from harm and were forced to survive on their wits alone.

Never a dull moment in Sin City...and Samara felt right at home.

The Tai-Okeeq were classified as a humanoid race, in that they had two arms and legs, a torso, and a head that supported their sensory organs, but that was where the similarities ended. Bony plates covered the bulk of their body, almost like a carapace but still allowing for a wide range of motion. They weren’t weird enough to trigger the Uncanny valley reaction from her fellow Terrans, but by the same token, no human would ever find them attractive.

Their biochemistry was similar enough to allow her a wide range of cuisine to choose from as she wandered the port streets. One could find representatives from almost all the various races here, allowing her to travel unmolested. No one seemed to care that she was human, as long as she didn’t make trouble.

That made her smirk. If she decided to make trouble, they’d know they’d been kissed.

She stopped in front of a display of various wares for sale, and Samara looked over the offerings with mild curiosity. One never knew what they might find in some out-of-the-way shop, and…

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt as she spotted in the reflection a familiar face across the thoroughfare, slowly turning to face him as her mind raced through her options. The figure ended her internal debate as he lifted a glass in salute, before waving her over to join him.

He had to have been following her. She had taken random streets to arrive at this point as a matter of course, because it was good tradecraft. Those kinds of precautions were instinctive to her, so there was no way he could have anticipated she’d wind up here.

And she hadn’t spotted a thing.

Samara knew her talents. Even without her shape-shifting ability she was as skilled an operative as you were likely to find anywhere in this region of space, and she had spotted nothing out of the ordinary. Hadn’t noticed the tail she’d picked up, and that shocked her down to the core, though the more she worked the problem in her mind, the more obvious the answer became.

The man who had taught her everything she knew had been keeping a few secrets to himself.

There was only one move for her to take. Crossing the boulevard with growing trepidation, she came to a halt roughly two meters away, eyeing him closely. To his credit, he didn’t flinch from her scrutiny; he seemed to almost welcome it. He gestured to an empty chair across the small outdoor table, and she inclined her head in acknowledgment as she took a seat.

“Hello Azrael,” she said at last, finding her voice.

“...Samara,” he smiled. “It’s good to see you.” He took a sip from his glass before cocking his head. “Can I get you something?”

“Whatever you’re having,” she answered. With a nod he tapped a menu screen, her drink arriving moments later via the automated delivery system built into the table itself. Lifting the glass to her lips, she had a taste, nodding in approval as the fiery liquid danced across her tongue. Setting the beverage back down, she regarded her counterpart. “I take it then, that this isn’t a social call.”

Azrael sighed. “I wish that it were, but I’m afraid we have business to discuss.”

She grimaced, taking another sip from her glass. “Something tells me I already know why you’re here.”

“I imagine you do,” he agreed, “but given the sensitive nature of the situation, some things must be said aloud.” He smiled, almost affably. “To avoid misunderstandings.”

“Of course,” she said. “By all means then, say your piece.”

“Thank you,” he nodded once more. “Simply put, you’ve become a problem to certain individuals, and they very much want said problem to disappear.” He shrugged, sipping from his own glass. “You understand.”

“I do,” she answered, a chill running through her veins, “though I’m curious why we’re having this conversation. Finding you here, now, without my being aware of your presence...you could have easily dealt with the problem already.”

Samara had always known he was good. He’d recruited her, trained her, molded her into a living weapon, but until this very moment she hadn’t realized just how skilled he was. That he’d been holding something back from her all this time...it was so very much in character, and yet ominous to the core.

Azrael reached out and took her hand, his thumb gently stroking the soft flesh. That simple touch brought back a flood of memories, and for a moment she closed her eyes, reliving them. “Because I owed you a warning, Samara,” he said gently. “They want the problem to go away. If I convince you to turn your back on this…insane path you’re on, my mission is accomplished.” He gave her hand a squeeze and smiled. “No need for any awkward complications.”

And the worst part? He means it; she thought to herself. If she gave him her word that she’d end her rebellion, he’d accept it. Perhaps they’d take a few hours to rekindle some of what they once had, but the offer was there on the table. She could walk away a free woman and not have to worry there was a target on her back.

Samara gazed into the eyes of the man she’d once loved with all her heart...and slowly withdrew her hand.

“I’m sorry, Azrael,” she whispered, “...but I’m afraid I must decline.”

He pulled back as well, a hint of melancholy on his face, and if she thought for one second he meant it, maybe things would have gone rather differently between them once upon a time. But it was an act, like everything else about him. Azrael was many things, but sentimental wasn’t one of them.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he told her. “I was hoping you and I could come to an arrangement. You know, for old times’ sake.” He smiled once again, but like all his smiles, it didn’t quite touch his eyes. Azrael rose to his feet, taking a deep breath as he regarded the city surrounding them. “Pity. I’d hoped to avoid this.”

Samara rose as well, placing her hand on his arm. “Join us, Azrael,” she urged him. “You know what they are, what they truly are. Help us...help me...take back what’s ours.” Her eyes pled with him, and for one moment, she thought she’d gotten through.

But then the moment passed, as he extricated himself from her grasp. “The next time we meet, I’m afraid the Rules of Engagement apply. You understand.”

“I do,” she said softly, tasting ashes in her mouth.

There was nothing else to be said. He gave her one last polite nod and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

The next time they met...only one would walk away.