Page 6 of Marked By the Bounty Hunter

“Your friend’s here.” His eye stalks contracted. “Should I start pricing new equipment now, or wait until after you two wreck my shop?”

“No one’s wrecking anything.” I hoped.

Tyrix ducked through the doorway, his markings standing out against his gray skin in the faint light. His gaze swept the room with predatory efficiency before settling on me.

“Odra seems... protective,” he observed, following as I wound deeper into the maze of shelves.

“He’s seen me get into enough trouble.” I paused to check a diagnostic panel, more from habit than necessity. “Taught me everything I know about the station’s guts.”

“Including where to have private conversations?” His presence filled the narrow space behind me, radiating heat.

I glanced back, caught the dangerous curve of his smile. “The machinery noise helps. Blocks most surveillance.” I pressed deeper into the shadows, where ancient server banks hummed their endless songs. “Though it also means no one would hear you scream.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you probably think it is.”

His lips twitched. “You’re not afraid.”

“Should I be?”

“Most humans are.”

“Most humans haven’t seen you get worried about a little scrape on her arm.” I tapped my forearm where a layer of nuskin covered the wound, then leaned against a shelf of defunct processors, studying him. “If you wanted me dead, you’ve had plenty of chances.”

He moved closer, forcing me to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “The Consortium. What do you know about their activities here?”

I blinked, thrown by the direct question. “The Consortium? They’re just another corp trying to get a foothold out here.” I ducked under a hanging cluster of cables, needing space to think. “Though there have been rumors...”

“What kind of rumors?” He followed, silent despite his size.

“Just bar talk.” I ran my fingers along a row of parts, buying time. “You know how people get after a few drinks. Complaining about new security protocols, supply shortages.” I glanced back at him. “Though lately...”

“Lately?”

“The stories are different. Maintenance crew found modifications to life support they can’t explain. Cargo manifests that don’t match what’s actually being moved.” I shrugged, aiming for casual. “But that’s normal for the Edge. Everyone’s got something to hide out here.”

His eyes narrowed. “When did these... irregularities start?”

“People always talk. But the past few months...” I hesitated. “The whispers have changed. More folks looking over their shoulders. Some regulars stopped coming in altogether.”

Instead of responding, he pulled out a small holoprojector. “Dr. Ravika Gondon.” The image flickered to life, showing an Orlian woman. Her sand-colored skin had the fine, almost translucent quality common to her species, and the membranous cooling frills along her arms were clearly visible beneath her lab coat.

Large eyes, adapted for the pale light of her homeworld, seemed to look right through the hologram. Despite the graceful features typical of Orlians, there was something hard in her expression, a coldness that seemed at odds with her species’ usual warmth.

“Genetic scientist with a specialty in neural plasticity. Used to be a big name. Four months ago, she went silent.”

“And you’re, what – worried about her safety?”

His lips curved in a humorless smile. “Her son hired me three weeks ago. Wealthy Orlian trader who’d been trying to handle things quietly - worried about his mother’s reputation in the scientific community. But after four months of excuses from her colleagues and blocked comm channels, he got desperate enough to hire outside help. I tracked her movements to this station, but then the trail went cold.”

“You think the Consortium’s involved?”

“I think it’s... convenient that she arrived here just as their medical operations are expanding.” He switched off the projection. “Yesterday’s agents confirmed it. The way they moved, their precision - that wasn’t regular corporate security. That was Consortium Special Operations. The same unit I’ve seen protecting their high-value research facilities in other sectors.”

I studied him. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because Jevik saw something that scared him badly enough to risk coming to your bar when he was already sick. And now the Consortium’s hunting him.” Tyrix moved closer, his voice dropping. “We need to find him first. Before they silence him permanently.”

“Or before whatever’s wrong with him gets worse,” I added. “He looked like death when I saw him.”

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