Page 4 of Across the Crimson Sands

“Property, huh?” I mused, noting the description of blonde hair. “Interesting choice of words.”

Davor’s expression hardened. “On this world? With these people? Yes. She’s property that got away and needs to be tracked down. Is that a problem?”

I shrugged and looked away, my jaw clenching slightly. “No. Just... intrigued by the phrasing.”

“His words, not mine,” Davor clarified, his tone clipped.

As I continued reading, my eyes landed on the client’s name: Gorin. A knot formed in my stomach, and I glanced up, fixing Davor with a dark look.

“I know,” he said, anticipating my reaction.

“This cowardly piece of shit wants to hire a Vinduthi to do his dirty work?” I spat, disgust evident in my voice. But of course he did. They all did. It was the very foundation of our business.

Davor’s eyes narrowed. “He’s a cowardly piece of shit with deep pockets, and those credits are going to line yours. This is what we do – the work everyone else is too squeamish or self-righteous to touch. And we do it damn well.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Any other smart-ass observations, or are you going to get your ass to the rendezvous point?”

I folded the paper into a neat triangle and flicked it back to my boss. He snatched it out of the air, looking like he was seconds away from throttling me – a familiar sight indeed.

“Jayden’s Canteen outside the Crimson Sand outpost. Got it,” I said, my tone deliberately casual. I turned to leave, pausing only when I heard Davor clear his throat.

“And Rokan...” he called after me, his voice oddly somber. “Go well prepared. Something tells me this job won’t be over by sundown.”

I looked over my shoulder, meeting his gaze. A silent understanding passed between us. I gave a curt nod and strode out, my mind already racing with preparations.

As I made my way back to my quarters, I mentally cataloged my gear. This wasn’t going to be a simple snatch-and-grab. If Davor’s warning was anything to go by, I’d need to be ready for an extended hunt.

My fingers traced the worn grip of my sidearm as I walked, a comforting ritual. Whatever this job threw at me, I’d be ready. After all, tracking down the desperate and the hunted was what I did best. And if this ‘property’ thought she could outrun her fate, well... she was about to learn just how persistent a Vinduthi bounty hunter could be.

I stepped into the outpost bar later that day, the heavy doors creaking shut behind me. The seating area fell silent, a sea of hostile stares turning my way. It wasn’t every day a fully armed Vinduthi walked into town, and I could practically taste the tension in the air. Some of these trigger-happy idiots were undoubtedly itching for a fight.

One man in particular caught my eye, his fingers caressing the barrel of his pistol with an unsettling intimacy. His gaze never left me as I scanned the room.

“Over here,” a voice hissed, punctuated by the sharp snap of fingers. I spun to see a Krelaxian gesturing impatiently from a corner booth. With a resigned sigh, I made my way over to his not-so-private table – the closest thing to luxury this backwater dump could offer.

“You’re the man Davor sent?” he asked, his beady eyes narrowing suspiciously.

I nodded, saying nothing.

The Krelaxian’s face twisted into a sneer. “Well, you’re not exactly subtle, are you? I swear, if you Vinduthi scumbags are trying to pull one over on me-”

“If I don’t finish the job, I don’t get paid,” I cut in, my voice level. “And I have no interest in not getting paid.”

I leaned back, taking in the pathetic excuse for a soldier before me. Gorin, like all the Krelaxians in this sector, had switched allegiances at the last minute, helping the Alliance win the war. They were all scum, and this slimy little greaseball wearing his shiny commendations with unearned pride was living proof.

“Of course you don’t,” Gorin muttered. “And this is how you’re going to earn that payday.” He placed a small holo player on the table and activated it. A still image of a human woman flickered to life.

I felt something catch in my throat. The woman’s eyes bored right into me, tired and haunted beyond her years. A perfectly circular bruise ringed her throat, and light golden hair fell limply over her shoulders. She looked small, damn near frail.

Something lashed through my chest. A sudden urge to walk away, let this girl escape. It served this idiot right for letting someone so vulnerable slip through his fingers. But I’d learned long ago that I wasn’t in the business of giving opinions or righting wrongs. There was too much darkness on this forsaken planet; I wouldn’t know where to start.

Too bad for her.

“Her name is Arilee,” Gorin seethed, his eyes bulging with barely contained rage. His nails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists. “She’s twenty-four years old, and she belongs to me. She has momentarily forgotten that fact, and I will make sure she never does again.”

“But first, you need me to catch her,” I stated flatly.

Gorin nodded, struggling to compose himself. “I was here to inspect a... to oversee a confidential military project that no longer requires my expertise. I have to report back home to the base on Quixa and don’t have time to chase after an unruly pet. That’s where you come in.”

He pushed a button, and the image switched to a map of the Crimson Sands.

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