Page 39 of Stars in Umbra
Mo smirked. ‘I’ve gone respectable. My inventory now won’t trip planetary sanctions and get your base zeroed by a Sable-class warship.’
Barwick picked up a weapon module and whistled. ‘Clean lines. Whisper charge. Reduced acoustic feedback but lacking fire-gel charges. Damn, Mo, you are housebroken.’
Mo snorted. ‘I wouldn’t quite go that far.’
What Alara and Barwick didn’t see were the stealthed crates hidden behind the wall, sealed and slated for destruction or repurposing.
Mo routinely purchased high-risk ordnance off the Dark Net, which was illegal, unstable, and terrifying, and relayed the specs to Mirage, Kage, and Harlow.
Harlow, in particular, had a talent for converting death machines into defensive infrastructure or integrated shielding components.
The rest got vaporized.
What made it past the vetting process, he sold to well-paying clientele like Alara and Barwick.
Win-win.
‘You’ll deliver these?’ Barwick asked, adjusting his wire-thin glasses.
‘It’s an end-to-end service, my friend. They’ll be on their way to Satyriasis on the next courier flight,’ Mo confirmed, sealingthe last crate. ‘To your base at Char’s Hollow, via a coded route, no tails. Like always.’
Alara tossed him a gleaming chip. ‘Pleasure, as always, weapons master.’
Just then, Mo’s neural node buzzed in his cortex, slicing through the air like a stiletto in soft ribs. His jaw flexed.
Mirage.
Summons for a meeting with Kainan, priority code zero.
Fokk,he muttered via the cerebral link, rubbing the back of his neck.What have I done now?
Mirage’s voice curled through the comm like silk spun over steel.Nothing yet, soldier. But you know how Kainan gets when he’s a bee in his bonnet. Chop chop.
Fine, see you in ten.
Alara raised a brow. ‘Trouble, Molan?’
Mo huffed, sliding the last crate onto the hover dolly and shoving it into the delivery chute. ‘Probably. Think the boss might’ve found my secret rocket launcher stash.’
‘Go on now,’ Alara teased. ‘Try not to get a scolding.’
‘I can take care of myself, it’s Six Flaco I’m worried about. If your outfit’s involved in the Hussian Delta nonsense, then you have my compassion. I hear it’s been a bitch of a mission.’
‘Thus the much-awaited sweet drop from you,’ Barwick quipped with a wink as the couple strolled out of Mo’s office.
He walked them to the door, eyes tracking them as they slipped into the shadows of the street beyond.
The moment they were out of sight, he hit the security sequence and stepped into the elevator, metal doors closing around him with a hydraulic hiss.
As the lift rose toward the primary levels of Sable HQ, he cracked his neck and exhaled.
‘Mirage,’ he muttered, ‘you better not rat me out for the chaos cannon inyourbasement.’
Her laughter echoed through his node as he grimaced.
The Sable Group’s CEO’s office was calm and still, a contrast to the turmoil of traffic and whizzing fly craft beyond its windows.
Through the floor-to-ceiling glazing, Eden II’s dusk skyline stretched in jagged silhouettes against a bruised violet sky.
