Cover Launch + Excerpt: GALAXY GRIFTER by A. Zaykova
Take your first look at the cover for Galaxy Grifter (US), the start to the snarky, high-stakes space opera series by A. Zaykova coming June 2025! Read on for a first chapter excerpt below.
Only the wittiest, smarmiest, most sycophantic person in the galaxy can grift like Levi can.
Levi is an interstellar con artist: all charm, no conscience. His only real love is his spaceship, Caerus—his symbol of status and freedom—which he is forced to surrender as loan collateral to the most dangerous gang in his current quadrant. Desperate to get his ship back by any means necessary, Levi swindles a valuable antimatter-tech blueprint from an alien diplomat, which he plans to sell for millions of credits to the highest bidder.
To decode the document, Levi hires Vera, a programmer whose inherited debt keeps her trapped on an asteroid in the galactic backwaters. Certain that Levi is merely using her, she plans to steal the blueprint for her creditors and finally gain her freedom.
Their alliance is plagued by fiery sexual tension, betrayals, and an impossible choice when they learn that an alien government intends to use the stolen technology to plan humanity’s genocide and that they will stop at nothing to retrieve their plans.
Chapter 1
Luminescent kelp fabric draped across the walls of the banquet hall cast a shimmering glow on the delegates gathered there—bigwigs from across the Galactic Union donned in formal attire. Levi’s gaze shifted from the chatty humanoid sharing a table with him to a stern-faced security guard edging past holographic displays and rows of glass tables.
Levi tensed, ready to run. Crashing the pompous Future of Terraformation Symposium under the guise of a Martian bureaucrat could earn him a year-long prison sentence. His connection to the Shadow League pirates, if somehow traced, would get him locked up indefinitely. But gathering intel for them was the quickest way to make enough coins to repurchase his beloved Caerus.
The security guard stepped through the nearest hologram displaying a planetary cross section, raised his comm to his lips, looked straight at Levi, and marched out of the hall through the emergency exit.
False alarm. Levi exhaled and downed his seaweed liquor. He was already in hot water with his employers and couldn’t afford more complications.
Netareth Khay, a Jaemlen ministerial advisor Levi had befriended earlier, looked oblivious to the commotion. The amphibious alien could pass for a Human, if it wasn’t for his pewter-toned skin and an extra pair of eyelids, which closed vertically, like a translucent film over his yellow irises. Like Levi, he wore a translation coil in his ear, though his suit was clearly expensive and well-kept, whereas Levi hoped the advisor wouldn’t see the repaired seams on his own jacket. The gills on the Jaemlen’s neck fluttered as he slurped down his third bowl of roe jelly. “I’m basically in charge while the minister’s away, left to field all the questions.”
“Sounds like a pain.” Levi topped up both their drink glasses with the green-tinged liquid. Listening to Netareth gloat was as fun as watching cleaner bots calibrate, but he leaked government secrets like a badly plumbed faucet, and these could fetch a good price with the pirates. So, Levi endured. “Any way the minister will postpone?”
“Not a chance. He’s all wound up for this trip. I think a big announcement will follow, but I didn’t tell you that.” The Jaemlen tapped his flat nose.
“Tell me what?”
The virtEgo on Levi’s wrist pulsed. Its flexible screen lit up, showing an incoming call from an unknown contact.
“Excuse me.” He stepped behind a hologram and flicked his earpiece.
“Levi Adder… enjoying your ship upgrades?”
Levi cringed, recognizing the nasal baritone on the other end of the call. “Isaac, I’m sorry, you’ve caught me at a bad time.”
“I’m sure I have. Your payment is overdue, and you’ve been ignoring my messages.”
“Ignoring? No, I’ve been terribly busy. Give me two more weeks and I’ll pay in full. I’ll throw a tenner on top of the total.” Levi kept his tone cool and casual as he was practiced to do under pressure.
“A fortnight in Union time. After that, I’ll find you. And I’ll take your ship.” Isaac Brezni disconnected.
Fuck. Levi kicked the holo-projector. Leaving Caerus as loan collateral after his faux-antique scheme folded a day too soon was the hardest decision he’d ever made. The ship was modified precisely to his taste; the sleek hull of his classic light freighter exuded timeless luxury, but the components inside were nothing short of cutting edge. The pilot’s seat, made of luscious nanite suede, molded perfectly to the curve of his back. Its LI VII Quantum Core processor ran the latest version of self-learning AI, with controls so attuned to his movements that piloting became as easy as breathing. The freshly installed DynaGlide thrusters provided unparalleled maneuverability in both atmospheric and zero-gravity conditions, while the magfield stabilizers, with their advanced inertial dampening, negated g-forces and made diving in and out of hyperspace feel as smooth as running a hot knife through butter. Speaking of which, his state-of-the-art kitchen meant he never had to rely on the disgusting ready-to-eat travel packs.
Caerus was not only his ultimate symbol of freedom, but also his best friend. The only one he ever had or needed. Leaving it at the seedy little dealership on Frigg felt like severing a body part, it’s absence growing more visceral with each passing day.
He needed that ship back. He couldn’t afford to screw up this job.
He took a breath to center himself, forced a smile to his face. A pretty blond woman from some Human research organization smiled back at him as she walked past. Good, he was still blending in. But she presented no commercial interest, so he paid her no heed and returned to his table.
Netareth patted his lips with a napkin. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s stellar,” Levi said, sliding into his chair and leaning toward the advisor. “What do you say we hit the town? This party has run its course.”
Netareth scratched his earhole. “It’s been a long day…”
“It’ll be fun.” Levi retrieved a small box from his breast pocket and tipped a transparent pill onto the palm of his hand.
“What is that?”
“Pathinazole Cetatine—Patty.”
Netareth’s eyes widened, and he lowered his voice to a whisper. “You brought an illegal party drug here?”
“I’ll keep your secrets, if you keep mine.” Levi winked, pretended to put the pill in his mouth, and offered the box to Netareth.
“I shouldn’t.”
“Suit yourself. But that girl’s casting glances your way.” Levi nodded at a group of Jaemlen females at the next table. “Bet she wants to get out of here too.”
“Which one?” Netareth turned his head, giving Levi the opportunity to return the pill to its box.
“The pretty one.” Levi wasn’t sure which amphibian fit that description, but Netareth seemed satisfied with the answer.
He sighed and stretched out his webbed hand. “Okay, just one.”
Levi checked his wrist, clocking the time. In thirty minutes, he’d have access to Netareth’s virtEgo and the Jaemlen minister’s itinerary.
An hour later, Levi ambled down a hotel corridor with a half-empty champagne bottle in one hand and the firm butt cheek of an Erian researcher in the other—the same one who’d smiled at him in the banquet hall. Her platinum hair framed a sharp face, and her emerald dress, with a curious texture, like soft bubbles of caviar, skimmed her athletic frame. It concealed just enough to be classy, unlike her laugh, which was too loud. Not that it mattered. His skin warmed from the allure of her touch and utter self-satisfaction. Netareth Khay was snoring in his own room and would remember nothing by morning. And Levi would soon have the funds to buy his ship back.
Gleath’s cityscape shimmered playfully through the ceiling-to-floor window at the corridor’s end, casting its lights across a shallow salt lake that lapped at the hotel’s lower levels, built partially submerged for the amphibious natives. Thankfully, the top floors accommodating Human delegates were dry. Levi leaned against one of the many doors that lined the corridor and tapped his wristband against the smart lock until it clicked open.
The researcher giggled and slipped into the room, tugging him behind her. Inside, he pressed her against a wall, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
But something felt off—a presence tugging at the edges of his alcohol-numbed senses.
“Wait.” He freed himself from her embrace and flicked the lights on.
She shrieked.
A somber man with a black mane slouched in an armchair by the window, legs splayed, gun on his lap, eyes fixed on them. Navegante, the first mate of a pirate galleon called the Vulture, and Levi’s de facto employer.
A stocky woman dressed in a cargo jacket stood next to him. She had angry eyes, and a blaster, which she tucked carelessly in her armpit. Their presence could only mean one thing—that Levi’s night was irrevocably ruined.
He sighed and shoved the researcher to the door. “Leave. And keep your mouth shut.”
She hurried out.
The stocky woman started toward him, swinging the blaster.
Navegante raised his palm. “Easy, Ren.”
She stopped.
“Holy shit, guys. Ever heard of privacy? Maybe calling before you visit?” Levi swigged his champagne and sauntered toward a wide bed, draped with a golden duvet.
Navegante rose to his feet. “Two days, no updates.”
“Ah, you’ve missed me. I’d appreciate the surprise party more if it weren’t in my room.” Levi had sworn off working with pirates, but being temporarily shipless had left him few options.
“Technically it’s my room, given your ass belongs to us,” Navegante said.
“Not to you, per se. Your captain, on the other hand, is always wel—”
Navegante drove a fist into Levi’s gut, making him double over, his champagne spilling onto the carpet.
The pirate tolerated no quips about his captain. Canine loyalty. Frowning, Navegante paced up and down the hotel room. “Have you found our mark?”
“I have.” Levi winced and straightened. “Was going to brief you in the morning.”
“Brief me now.”
Ren pointed at the bottle. “He’s had too much fun, it seems.”
“Someone’s gotta. You should try it sometime.” Holding his stomach, Levi sat on the bed.
She gave him the death stare, and Navegante cocked his fist again.
Levi raised both hands. “Hold on. Lights to twenty percent.” The room sank into twilight. He tapped his virt and projected a map of the galaxy into the space in front of him.
Navegante lowered back into the armchair.
“Top stories today: A freighter full of diamonds is heading to Eria.” Levi drew a line connecting two points on the star map. “Sadly, it’s escorted by three fighter ships. By the time you’re done with those, Starpol will have arrived, so—”
“So why the fuck are you telling me? Got us into enough shit with the pol-fucks the last time.” Navegante’s frustration was understandable; piracy wasn’t the profitable endeavor it has once been, but Levi hated being on the receiving end of his wrath.
“Just walking you through the options. In my view”—Levi rotated the hologram—“your best bet is a Jaemlen explorer ship heading off the chart, to sector forty-three.”
“What’s in forty-three?”
“Officially? Nothing. It’s close to the A’turi border. The explorer is carrying three prominent scientists and a couple of Jaemlen politicians. Ransom-worthy folk, let alone whatever they’re transporting.”
“Which is?”
Levi shrugged. “Secrets. My guess is they found a new prospective colony, and after they lost their claim to Frigg, they’re not in a hurry to tell their buddies at the Galactic Union.”
Navegante scratched his cheek with the gun barrel. “I’d rather stay away from politicians. Next thing you know, the whole GU will be after us.”
“Bet Wendigo thinks otherwise.”
Navegante’s lip twitched. “How would you know what Wendigo thinks?”
Levi didn’t risk inviting another punch. “Either way, traders are cautious these days. And Starpol is on high alert after the two Sehen raids last quarter. A lone ship off the main route is a rare opportunity.”
Ren leaned on the wall next to the bed. “How’d you get their route coordinates?”
“I’m good at making friends. And friends tell you stuff.”
Navegante scoffed. “He drugs them.”
Levi placed his hand on his heart. “I’d never. They take the fun stuff willingly… with a bit of coaxing.”
“Wouldn’t it be quicker to spike their drinks?” Ren slipped the blaster into her belt.
“Crude. Besides, they could report that. They won’t report something that incriminates them.”
Navegante zoomed in on sector forty-three of the star map. “Ammo?”
“Two fighter frigates and last-generation shields. Nothing the Vulture can’t handle.”
The pirate grimaced.
“C’mon, you don’t expect loot without a fight, do you? That’s how you know it’s worth it.”
“Was supposed to be worth it last time,” Navegante all but snarled. He reminded Levi of a yappy dog—angry, yet unable to last a day without his owner.
“It would’ve been,” Levi said. “I don’t know where the third fighter came from. And with the Starpol—”
“It was your job to know.”
That stung. “I’m good at my job. That was the first ever slipup.”
“Better be the last. It cost us.”
Choking down his pride, Levi slapped his virt, turning off the holo-map, and leaned back on his elbows. “If you don’t like what I’ve got, I’ll do more digging. But run it past Captain Wendigo with my warmest regards.”
Navegante’s scowl suggested he’d rather put a hole through Levi’s head. But he wasn’t allowed. Not until Levi made them a profit. The pirate stood, slid the gun into his holster, and spat on the carpet. “Get your shit. You’re coming aboard the Vulture. If your plan goes south again—you’re going down with us.”
Chapter 2
The Jaemlen explorer ship resembled a great pregnant shark, menacing points jutting out from the sides and a bulging center. After the first pirate rockets hit its shields, the center opened, birthing two small fighter frigates, which countered with vengeance, rattling the huge pirate galleon like an earthquake. It made Levi’s teeth clatter. Locked in the Vulture’s common room, with only Ren for company, Levi tugged on his tattered seat belts.
“Is Wendigo planning to do something about the shooting?” His voice rang with annoyance over the barrage. If it were him and Caerus, he’d have easily swerved from the line of fire, even though the freighter had no weapons.
“Watch.” Ren nodded at a screen on the opposite wall, where the live footage of the battle unfolded like a bad movie.
The pirates seemed to ignore the frigates, treating them like pesky flies and instead firing ceaselessly at the large explorer, denying it the chance to jump into hyperspace. A white flash illuminated the room as a laser beam aimed at the big ship pierced one of the frigates, and it burst into flames. Before Levi had time to wonder where the shot came from, a third, older-looking fighter came into view, probably released from the Vulture’s cargo hold.
The shaking stopped. The fire on the explorer continued. The remaining tiny frigate circled fruitlessly, trying to do any real damage to the Vulture. One precise shot from the Vulture later, the last Jaemlen fighter sang its fiery swan song.
Wendigo continued to shell the explorer as her voice boomed over the intercom. “Prepare for boarding.”
The pirates, including Ren, flooded into the cargo hold.
Relieved, Levi headed in the opposite direction, down a long corridor partitioned by open hatches, which sealed off sections of the ship in cases of hull integrity breaches. Discoloration along the seams of the unfaced metal bulkheads hinted at where the Vulture had been patched up. Voices and thumps echoed from the hold below.
The books Levi had read as a kid painted piracy as an exciting career option. In practice, he felt walking these corridors day after day would be as tedious as any office job. His own career offered much more variety. He liked his interstellar Ponzi schemes, the art of selling junk as priceless artifacts, and coaxing vendors into questionable freight contracts before disappearing with their goods. On Caerus, he was the captain and they made their own rules, unbridled by the suffocating constraints of power hierarchies, legal systems, and arbitrary moral codes designed to quell individuality. As free as the stars reflected in Caerus’s glossy black hull. But after a decade on the fun side of the law, he was back to square one: no ship, no money, and Wendigo still hadn’t paid him for the intel.
He reached the captain’s cabin and tried the door. Locked, most likely magnetically. So were the cabins of those next in command. He continued into the common dormitory, which smelled of unwashed bodies, with chests of drawers bolted to the floor next to the narrow bunks. Breathing into his sleeve, he knelt by the nearest one. It had been locked with an old-fashioned key and only took a minute to pick.
Inside, he found several changes of worn-out clothing, a virtEgo with a cracked screen, earpieces with traces of wax, and a pack of condoms. At least the pirates were being safe. He shut the drawers and tried the next chest. There had to be something he could score out of this joyride.
Five attempts later, and none the richer, he heard voices down the corridor. He left the dormitory and turned the corner, looking over his shoulder to ensure nobody saw him.
Two large men walked in the direction of the lavatory with their backs to him. Their easy gaits suggested the raid had been a success.
“It’s done then?” Levi asked.
They turned to face him. The taller one had a beard. The shorter one was bald and clean-shaven.
“We’re towing the explorer, the hostages are in our hold,” said the one with the beard.
Levi propped his elbow on a bulkhead. “What were they carrying?”
“They’re being questioned.” The bearded man proceeded into the lav, followed by his silent shipmate.
Satisfied that his intel proved accurate, Levi headed toward the stairs. Now was the perfect time to see the captain.
He’d climbed two steps toward the bridge when a pained scream echoed from below. He stopped, fighting the urge to look. The urge won, and he descended one level.
The cargo hold was the size of a sports field. Containers, machinery, and tarped mounds lined its perimeter. Pirates herded four Jaemlen hostages with bound wrists into a cage. A green Sehen, with muscular arms ending in four-fingered hands, and a three-meter-long serpentine lower body, coiled around the fifth hostage, rendering him immobile. The reptilians were known for bad tempers, and Wendigo was the only Human captain Levi knew of who had one in her service. The Jaemlen’s eyes were shut and blood dripped from his mouth. Navegante and another Human stood with their backs to the stairs.
“He better not be dead.” Navegante poked the Jaemlen’s face, but his head hung limp.
“I can feel a pulssse.” The Sehen flicked his forked tongue.
“Try another one. We’ll get them talking eventually.”
The Sehen threw the unconscious hostage into the cage and dragged out his second screaming victim.
Savages. Levi turned to leave. Perhaps he ought to have felt remorse, but he was merely an informant and wasn’t even supposed to be here.
Navegante called after him. “What the fuck do you want, Weasel?”
“Nothing.”
“Then get the fuck out, before I get you to scrub the piss off the floor.”
Thankless savages.
For all his insults and threats, Levi knew Navegante was the one who felt threatened. Despite his loyalty to the captain, he stood no chance of winning Wendigo’s carnal affections in the way that Levi had once (in jest) implied that he had. Levi knew that the thought of him and Wendigo behind closed doors drove Navegante to rage. And that made Levi all the more happy to skip up to the captain’s presence alone.
Levi climbed several flights to the ship’s bridge. The hatch was open.
A tall woman stood over the control panel with her back to him—Wendigo. Her long hair fell in spirals, black with a dash of salt. She shut the text file she had been scrolling through and turned. “That you, Adder?”
“I prefer ‘Levi.’” He sat on a bench next to the entrance to catch his breath. They’d been on friendlier terms before the Starpol incident, but at least she wasn’t calling him “Weasel.”
He knew her white shirt, worn unbuttoned over a singlet, concealed broad shoulders and sinewy arms. She had at least fifteen years on top of his twenty-nine, yet she was still as alluring to him as a siren’s song.
“What do you want?” Wendigo asked.
“I kept my end of the deal, which got you a shiny ship to pick apart and a coin-worthy cargo to ransom, unless your crew kill them first. Thought you’d reciprocate.” He grinned, which normally ensured he got what he wanted.
She leaned on the back of the pilot seat. “I’ll pay you once we reach Blackjack.”
“I don’t want to go to Blackjack.” His grin fell. The asteroid in sector 21 was a haven for lowlifes and outlaws and headed by Vincent Puccelli’s Mafia. Levi may have owed them some funds.
“Too bad, I do. Call me superstitious, but the deal ain’t done until my ship reaches the port.”
“I’m not a hostage here, am I? I don’t do well in captivity.”
She scoffed. “Captivity? Have you seen the prisoners’ quarters?”
His skin crawled at the memory of the cage in the cargo hold. “Your ship’s lovely, don’t get me wrong, but I feel I’ve overstayed my welcome. It’s almost like…” He glanced at the entrance and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial hush. “Your crew don’t like me.”
That got half a smile from her. “You shouldn’t provoke them.”
“I wouldn’t, if I could help it. But… some are particularly short-fused. You might want to reconsider your choice of second-in-command.”
“You’re giving me HR advice? Navegante is as competent as he is loyal.”
Levi snorted. “Loyal. You do know the guy has wet dreams about you? You don’t need those complications.”
She charged forward and slammed her boot into the bench between his legs. His testicles retracted up to his groin.
“You will not talk about my crew like that. Or at all, for that matter.” She glared.
Once certain he wasn’t actually hurt, he wrapped his fingers around her boot and rested his chin on her knee. “Looks like I’m getting on your nerves too.” Getting under her skin was somewhat thrilling, even if pushing her buttons was like playing with a grenade.
“You are.” She freed her leg.
“Lend me one of your shuttles and I’ll be gone.”
She turned and walked to the control panel.
That wasn’t a clear no, so he tried again. “Come on, you’ve got the explorer and you’re on a shadow route. What could possibly go wrong now?”
The lidar bleeped. Wendigo checked the screen and sat in the pilot seat. “Two ships ahead of us.”
He tensed. “Starpol?” This couldn’t be happening.
“Not sure, but they shouldn’t be moving this fast. How did they find us?”
“Don’t know. We are on a shadow route, right?”
“Of course.”
The shadow maps were the pirates’ best-kept secret. The cops shouldn’t have—couldn’t have known about them. He jumped to his feet and looked over her shoulder. The dots on the lidar approached from ahead, forming a triangle. “Maybe they’re not even after us? Ping ’em, see what they want. Starpol won’t fire if you’ve got hostages.”
“I damn sure hope so.” She tried to initiate contact with one of the ships, and then with the other. No response.
A chill crept up his spine. Navegante’s words replayed in his head: If your plan goes south again, you’re going down with us.
The two dots grew closer. The Vulture could pass between them if each stayed its course. Yet, somehow, it felt like a trap.
“Buckle in.” Wendigo hit the alarm.
Sirens blared and Levi strapped into the navigator seat next to her. The oncoming ships were close enough for the Vulture to project their images onto the screens. They looked like silver shadows, heavily armored and weaponized.
Wendigo’s frown deepened. “Jaemlen warships.”
“GU troops or just Gleath’s forces?”
“They don’t have Union colors from what I can see.” She took up manual controls and swerved as a white beam flashed past the viewport, a near miss. She hit the hyperdrive.
The Vulture plunged through a white disk, out of hyperspace, and into the star-speckled interstellar substance. She brought up the map, changed routes, and jumped back into the starless blackness. She fired orders to her crew via the intercom and hit the hyperdrive once again.
Levi’s head spun from the recurrent jumps, but it appeared they’d lost the unmarked warships. Wendigo turned off the siren. “Who the hell are they?”
“Don’t know. I’ve given you all I got from the mark.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What did you drag us into, Weasel?”
“Wanda—”
“Come.” She stood and hurried down the stairs. He followed.
On the lower deck, Navegante darted at him like an angry bull, screaming, “You led them to us—again!”
“I had nothing to do with it.” Levi stepped back.
“You’re dead, Weasel.”
Fed up with the accusations, Levi rolled his shoulders. “How do I know it wasn’t you, huh?”
“What the fuck are you saying?” Navegante chest-bumped him.
Levi pushed back. “You’re the one with the problem, and you knew the route we’d be on. You could’ve tipped someone off to set me up.”
Navegante growled, grabbed Levi by the collar, and shoved him into a bulkhead.
Wendigo placed her hand on her first mate’s shoulder. “This ain’t a taphouse, gentlemen. Keep your testosterone in check.”
Levi broke free of the pirate’s grip. “Keep your dog on a leash, Wanda. It bites.”
“Don’t be a child.” She turned to Navegante. “It’s not the Starpol.”
He stared blankly. “What do you mean?”
“No insignia, Union or otherwise.”
“Who then? The Sehens?”
“Can’t be,” Wendigo said. “Jaemlen-built, military-class ships. Contact denied. What intel did the captives give us?”
“Barely anything. I’ll fix that.” Navegante started toward the cargo hold.
“Nav,” Wendigo called. “Take charge on the bridge. I’ll handle things downstairs.”
“Yes, Cap’n. What should I do with this one?” Navegante’s lip curled in contempt as he nodded at Levi.
“He’ll come with me.” She turned with a toss of hair and headed into the hold.
Levi pushed past the first mate and followed her.
On the steps, they nearly collided with a teenage boy. He held a crate full of gadgets. “Cap’n. We’ve scanned the explorer ship and all their devices. No entanglement signals detected.”
“Good.”
“Where do you want the data cards?” The boy shook the crate.
“Take them to the bridge, Toshi.” She waved him off.
The pirates in the cargo hold stood to attention at the sight of her. The Jaemlen hostage in the Sehen’s deadly embrace squirmed. Wendigo walked up to the Jaemlen, drew a long laser knife, and slit his throat. He gurgled dark blood.
Levi froze in his tracks, eyes glued to the dying humanoid. The body convulsed, almost comically, eyes bulging, mouth gaping. When it went limp, the Sehen dropped it onto the bloodstained floor.
Shit. Levi’s thoughts raced. He needed to find a way off the Vulture, or he’d have a hard time explaining he wasn’t part of this psycho’s crew if her ship was captured.
Someone inside the cage wailed.
“Get rid of it.” Wendigo kicked the dead Jaemlen and turned to the prisoners. “I am the captain of this ship and a member of the Shadow League, who serve no government, Human or alien. For this we’re shunned by your Union”—she spat out the word like it was filth on her tongue—“making piracy our only viable trade. Jaemlen warships followed us on a route you won’t find on a Union map and known only to us. My crew assured me your ship and confiscated devices are silent, which means one of you is hiding a quantum entanglement tracker, transmitting coordinates to our enemies.”
The hostages exchanged worried glances.
A network of satellite quantum computers with entangled particles enabled instant communication between all planets of the Union, across the star systems. Cheaper and simpler versions of this technology, colloquially known as the ansible, were used in spaceships’ communications to allow simple exchanges with the spaceports.
Wendigo’s gaze lingered on each Jaemlen. “You better start talking, or I’ll cut you all down and feed you to the black.” She turned to her crew. “Abdul, interpret, in case I didn’t make myself clear.”
The bearded pirate Levi had spoken to in the corridor came forward and blabbered in the Jaemlen language.
A badly bruised hostage, probably the one Levi had seen tortured earlier, uttered something through gritted teeth. Levi didn’t need an interpreter to tell it was an insult.
Wendigo waved at the Sehen. “Get the next one.”
It slithered to the cage, pulled out a young, whimpering female, and coiled around her.
“Wanda, wait.” Levi grabbed Wendigo’s arm. “They’re worth a fortune in ransom. Killing them off is wasteful.”
“It will be more wasteful if their warships track us down again.” She jerked her arm free and switched on the laser.
“You can use them as leverage.” He wasn’t going to jail for assisting murderers. And deep down, he still hoped to get paid.
“They fired at us.”
“A warning shot. They can tell the Vulture has shields and can take a few hits without damage.”
“I can’t risk that.” Her eyes were the coldest steel. “Back off, unless you want to join them.”
He stepped back, falling silent.
As Wendigo raised the blade, a wrinkled male came to the front of the cage. “Don’t. I have the tracker.” He spoke clear Supayuyan, Humanity’s most common language.
Wendigo lowered the knife. The Sehen threw the sobbing female back into the cage and dragged out the old male.
“Where?”
With a shaking hand, the hostage pulled up his sleeve, pointing at a barely visible bump just below the elbow—an implant.
“Carve it out,” Wendigo ordered.
Abdul bared a regular steel knife and grasped the Jaemlen’s arm. Before he could make an incision, a quake passed through the ship, knocking everyone off their feet. The siren blared with a warning of a hull breach.
The Vulture was fucked.
Chapter 3
Vera studied the cockpit of an old cargo ship that had just docked at Blackjack’s spaceport, smelling of spice and must. She ran her fingers over the grubby control panel. Hot and sticky. She wrinkled her nose.
The pilot, June, grey-haired and shriveled like a dehydrated slugar, removed a mug from the panel. “Overheating like hell, but at least it keeps my tea warm.” She chuckled.
“Yeah, it shouldn’t be doing that.” Vera snapped off the cover, baring the greasy entrails of the onboard computer. The smell intensified. She sniffed. “Did you spill… curry on it?”
June shuffled from foot to foot. “It’s meant to be waterproof.”
“Yes, but not… curryproof.” Vera sighed. “I’m going to have to clean it all out and see which bits are fried.” She rummaged through her bag for her diagnostic goggles, a pair of tweezers, and cotton buds. “You might want to get Nina to service your engine, too, before your next flight.”
“You’re so clever,” June lilted. “Don’t know how you do it, girl.”
Vera snorted. De-currying control panels was not the job she’d dreamed of and was only marginally better than working at the pub she’d inherited.
June patted her on the back. “I’ve got accounts to tally. Call me when you’re finished.” She disappeared through the hatch leading to the ship’s living area.
Several hours later, Vera had reassembled the motherboard, applied a fresh coating of thermal paste to the nano chips, and clipped the cover back into place. Once the computer powered up, she shouted into the hatch, “I’m just running software updates, okay?”
“Does it cost more?” June’s voice rang from somewhere in the ship’s belly.
“No.” Vera tapped through the menu.
June returned to the cockpit, wiping her hands on her apron. “You’re a miracle worker. This ship’s my lifeline.”
“No prob.” Vera stood from the pilot seat. “Two fifty k-bits.”
“Wanna stay for dinner?”
“Nah, I’ve gotta—”
“Dumplings, freshly made.”
Vera shook her head. “Need to get back to Stellar. The miners’ shift is about to finish and they don’t like waiting for their booze.”
June tsked. “You work too much, girl.”
“Keeps me out of trouble.”
“Burn out. Need to take care of yourself.” June wagged a crooked finger.
Work was Vera’s self-care, her only chance at a better life. She’d rest once she paid off her debt and moved to Seshat. There, she would find a real job, one that actually required a brain.
“Don’t worry, it’ll go dead after happy hour.” She stretched out her arm with her virtEgo bracelet. “Two fifty, please.”
June grimaced. “It’s been a while since my last delivery round. How about I’ll pay you half when I come back from this run, eh? You know June keeps her promises.”
Here we go. Everyone was always so grateful until they had to pay. “I’ve got bills too, June.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll pay two hundred. Fifty when I come back. And I’ll bring you a present, okay?”
Vera checked the time. “Fine. I really need to get to the pub now.”
June tapped her wristband against Vera’s, transferring two hundred k-bits. “Come back for dinner tomorrow. I’ll feed you.”
Kicking up fine, grey dust, Vera jogged along the unpaved road leading away from the spaceport. The red, nameless sun plunged toward the horizon, hazy through the thick, nanocomposite tiles of the dome that enclosed Blackjack’s settlement. Factory chimneys pierced the dome, puffing toxic fumes into outer space. Farther along, makeshift hovels nestled between concrete, barracks-style residential blocks up to three stories tall, adorned with crude graffiti. Drying laundry and precarious extensions embellished the windows.
She waved at a group of elderly folk, locally known as the Immortals. The sofa they assembled on was strategically placed outside the first apartment block, so no one coming into town could escape their long-sighed appraisals. They collectively nodded to her as she passed.
On Main Street, Vera slowed to a walk. The sheet metal walkway clanked with every step. A group of teenagers loitered outside a liquor store. Several heads turned toward her, and she crossed the road. Life on the asteroid gave youth plenty to be angsty about.
“Hey, wait,” someone called after her.
Vera glanced back. Oh, great. A plump girl in a short striped dress was following her. The locals had dubbed the girl Princess, for her relation to Vincent Puccelli, aka Vinnie the Pooch, the local kingpin. Of course her highness had to approach Vera now, when she was already running behind.
“You work at Stellar, right?” Princess caught up to Vera and stopped.
Vera raised her chin. “I own it.”
“Yeah, you know the new guy who runs the liquor store?”
“No.”
“Well, he won’t sell us drinks. Apparently, my dad told him not to.” Princess rolled her eyes. “So dumb.”
“Uh… I’m sorry?” Vera would kill to be fourteen again and have those kinds of problems.
“I was thinking…” Princess tucked her long fringe behind her ear, showing off a brand-new virt on her wrist.
“No.” Vera wasn’t going to supply the Pooch’s underaged grandniece with alcohol.
“Why? You’re not scared of my dad too?”
“Puccelli’s nephew? Pretty scared.”
“He won’t know. And it’s not like he’ll actually do anything.”
Vera looked around and leaned toward the girl. “Do you know what happened to the store’s previous owner?”
Princess’s eyes widened. “No.”
“Exactly.” Vera didn’t know either, but no one crossed the gang and stayed in business. She turned to leave.
“Oh, come on, I thought you were cool,” Princess whined as her friends watched from across the road.
Vera suppressed a snicker. “Whoever told you that?”
She arrived at Stellar at one minute past thirteen, Blackjack time—after sunset, but before the miners would arrive in droves. Once she disarmed the door, an old android with caterpillar wheels and flexible tentacle arms scanned her face. Rusty greeted her by changing the red light in its head to green.
Rusty had guarded the pub for as long as she could remember and had been outdated since before then. It did its job, though. She’d even managed to program it to pick up rubbish.
She hit a switch behind the bar. Neon string lights flickered to life, diluting the gloom above the mismatched tables scavenged from written-off spaceships and assembled from scrap metal. The first patrons rolled in a second later, covered in sweat and dust from beyond the dome. The same crowd as usual: two dozen or so miners, all demanding their singular beer to wipe out the tip of their exhaustion and make getting home to their families that much easier. A few others bumbled in after them, but nothing and no one unexpected.
As Vera had predicted, the hubbub died down after happy hour. A white-haired geezer dozed over his glass in the corner. A couple of Huxorans, resembling Human-sized rats, chattered by the window. The remaining tables stood empty. She turned a page of a virtual book: From First Contact to Modern Diplomacy: A Brief History of Xeno Affairs.
Just as she was starting to lose herself in the book’s dramatic account of Humanity’s mass resettlement to Mars, followed by a dispersal throughout the galaxy, Stellar’s doors flung open, letting in a gust of cold air and a broad-shouldered figure in a leather jacket.
Vera sighed. Couldn’t she have one calm day?
The man who stood in the doorway was Blackbeard. The Pooch’s right-hand man. He swaggered to the bar like he owned the place and everyone in it. The Huxorans quieted and shuffled toward the exit. The geezer woke and followed them.
Vera’s heart shrank and fell into her stomach. She fiddled with the beer keg levers to avoid making eye contact until she absolutely had to. “Evening, sir.”
The gangster perched on a stool. “You today? Thought it’s your brother’s shift.”
“Fred’s in tomorrow, if you want to come back.” Vera had tried to avoid Blackbeard, mostly by making sure he came by when Fred was behind the bar. He had a way with violent old men that Vera had never seemed to master.
“All good. Might get you to look at my virt since you’re here. It’s gone glitchy again.”
“Sure. A drink?” She reached for a vodka bottle.
“Nah, got jobs tonight.” He handed her his virtEgo. Taking it from his cold, metallic fingers felt eerie. She didn’t know how he lost his arm but was sure the bionic limb made intimidating folk easier.
After tinkering with his device for several minutes, she passed it back to him. “You should consider an upgrade. The hardware’s barely coping.”
“A new one will take forever to get used to. Fuck that.” He snapped the outdated model onto his good wrist.
She shrugged. “It’ll flip out again in a few months.”
“That’s not what I came to talk about.” He looked around the empty pub. “Your payments for Stellar—”
“We’re up-to-date with those. Paid this month’s already.” She squared her shoulders, pressing both palms into the bar.
“Yeah, but the rate’s gone up five percent. Inflation and all.”
“What? When?”
“Now.”
She took a deep breath. “You know how hard Fred and I work—”
“The economy’s tough out there. Gotta share the brunt.”
“Economy?” She clenched her jaw. Even with the cops patrolling the interstellar routes, the black market that fueled life on Blackjack was unsinkable. The brunt she and Fred had to bear was that of the Mafia’s greed.
“If you’ve got a problem, take it up with the boss.” Blackbeard banged his metallic fist, showing he was done talking.
Nobody in their right mind would confront the Pooch. She had no choice but to comply. “Five percent more next month, huh?”
“This month.”
She crossed her arms. “Next month.”
His eyes narrowed. “You remind me of your mother, you know that?”
Her nails dug into her upper arm, reminding herself that any sort of response would only put her in a worse position. She held the gangster’s gaze, keeping her face as straight as possible.
“Fine, next month. And make sure it’s on time.” He pointed his finger, turned, and headed for the exit.
Once the door shut behind him, Vera slouched and unclenched her hands. Who was she kidding? The Pooch wouldn’t let them pay off their debt, no matter how much they worked. She raised her virt to call Fred but stopped herself. Her mood was already ruined. She’d spare his until morning.
Levi is an interstellar con artist: all charm, no conscience. His only real love is his spaceship, Caerus—his symbol of status and freedom—which he is forced to surrender as loan collateral to the most dangerous gang in his current quadrant. Desperate to get his ship back by any means necessary, Levi swindles a valuable antimatter-tech blueprint from an alien diplomat, which he plans to sell for millions of credits to the highest bidder.
To decode the document, Levi hires Vera, a programmer whose inherited debt keeps her trapped on an asteroid in the galactic backwaters. Certain that Levi is merely using her, she plans to steal the blueprint for her creditors and finally gain her freedom.
Their alliance is plagued by fiery sexual tension, betrayals, and an impossible choice when they learn that an alien government intends to use the stolen technology to plan humanity’s genocide and that they will stop at nothing to retrieve their plans.
