"My pack is full," Parker announced, bracing his walker against a tree to reload his cannons. "I physically cannot carry another credit's worth of loot without sinking."

  "My storage cells are at capacity," Vinto agreed, checking his internal diagnostics. "And my ammunition reserves are below thirty percent."

  Damien checked his own status. His suit held together, but the constant skirmishing drained his power core faster than he liked. They possessed enough Spark to buy a small fleet, and enough stolen gear to outfit a squad of elite soldiers.

  "We’re calling it," Damien decided, looking at the sky where the storm clouds gathered again, threatening rain. "We pushed our luck, and we won. Let's not give it back to the planet."

  "I was hoping for a Titan to test my blade against," Yeka sighed, though she patted her full satchel with satisfaction. "But I suppose quantity has a quality of its own."

  "There is a natural chimney about two clicks north," Damien said, referencing his map which flickered with interference. "It’s tight, but we can launch the balloons from there if we move fast."

  They retreated in good order, firing suppression bursts behind them to discourage pursuit from the pack. The Leapers followed them to the edge of the clearing, yipping and snapping, but refusing to enter the open space where the raiders could bring their heavy weapons to bear effectively.

  They reached the extraction point as the first drops of heavy, warm rain began to fall, turning the ground to mud. Damien anchored his line, checking the heavy-lift bag for tears.

  "Smooth ascent this time, please," Parker said, hooking his harness to the line. "No birds, no bears, just sky."

  "Launch on my mark," Damien ordered, his hand on the release valve. "Three. Two. One. Mark."

  The balloons inflated with a synchronized hiss, lifting the squad out of the mud and into the gray sky. They rose through the canopy, leaving the chittering darkness below. As the team broke through the clouds, the orbital station glittered above them like a diamond in the void, promising safety and profit.

  "Not a bad day's work," Damien said, watching the violet glow of the Spark canisters on his belt pulse against the gray clouds. "Not bad at all."

  "Drinks are on the Corsairs tonight," Parker laughed, patting the stolen ammo drum that rested on his chest.

  They drifted upward, four satisfied predators returning to their den, their bellies full of loot and their lives intact for one more rotation.

  Chapter 21

  The Merchant of Scales

  The Quartermaster’s Exchange vibrated with the frantic energy of a thousand desperate transactions occurring simultaneously, a cacophony of shouting voices, digital chimes, and the heavy thud of cargo crates hitting the deck plates.

  Damien navigated the crushing press of the crowd with the casual arrogance of a man wearing a suit of armor that cost more than most of the people in the room would earn in a lifetime. Beside him, Parker moved like a heavy icebreaker cutting through a frozen sea, his massive shoulders clearing a path simply by existing in the space.

  The atmosphere carried the sharp, metallic tang of credits and the desperate sweat of raiders hoping to turn a profit before their luck finally ran out.

  They bypassed the general admission counters where the rookies lined up to sell scraps of copper wire and low-grade biological samples for pocket change. Instead, the duo headed straight for the private, soundproofed booths reserved for the station’s high-value assets, a status they had purchased with blood and high-explosives.

  Vex waited for them inside his office, the Saurian broker lounging behind a desk made of genuine, polished mahogany that looked suspiciously like it had been salvaged from an officers' mess. The reptile wore a silk vest that clashed violently with his emerald scales, and his slit-pupiled eyes tracked their entrance with the cold, calculating avarice of a dragon assessing a hoard of gold.

  "Gentlemen, please enter and seal the door before the smell of the swamp contaminates my expensive air filtration system," Vex hissed, gesturing to the chairs opposite him with a clawed hand that glittered with rings. "You possess a distinct aroma today, a bouquet of sulfur, dead fungus, and aggressive capitalism."

  "We call that the scent of success, Vex, and you usually love it when it translates into your commission fees," Damien countered, dropping his heavy pack onto the desk with a deliberate, heavy thud that made the broker wince. "We had a very productive walk in the swamp."

  "Productive is such a subjective term in our line of work," Vex noted, leaning forward and steepling his fingers. "Productive can mean you found a diamond, or it can mean you survived a massacre. Judging by the scorch marks on your shiny new armor, I assume the day involved a significant amount of the latter."

  "A little from column A, a little from column B." Parker grinned and unslung his own pack, and placed the container next to Damien’s. "We ran into some Red Corsairs who no longer needed their equipment. We thought it would be rude to leave such quality gear to rust in the mud."

  "Red Corsairs," Vex mused, his tongue flicking out to taste the air. "Nasty business. They tend to hold grudges, but their taste in hardware remains undeniably exquisite. Show me what you scavenged from the dead."

  Damien reached into his bag and pulled out the first item, a heavy, black rectangular unit with a cracked display screen but intact sensor arrays. He placed the device on the mahogany surface, sliding the object toward the broker.

  "Void-Corp field jammer," Damien announced. "Military grade. It scrambles thermal, optical, and motion sensors within a fifty-meter radius. We pulled this off the squad leader."

  Vex picked up the device, turning the unit over in his hands with surprising delicacy. "Ah, the VC-9 'Ghost-Box.' Highly illegal for civilians to possess, and highly sought after by literally everyone who enjoys not being shot. The casing shows impact damage, but the internal lattice appears functional."

  "It works," Parker assured him, tapping the side of the box. "We tested it on the way up. It ghosted the elevator's security scan completely."

  "Excellent," Vex purred, typing a figure into his holographic interface. "I have a buyer in the smuggling sector who pays a premium for privacy. Next."

  Damien reached back into the bag, retrieving a heavy, industrial tool that looked like an oversized pistol with a rotating saw blade at the end. "Iron-Clad thermal cutter. Diamond-tipped chain, plasma-infused cutting edge. It slices through blast doors like they are made of cheese."

  "Stolen from a corpse who likely stole it from a factory," Vex chuckled, inspecting the serrated teeth of the blade. "Iron-Clad hates losing these. They track the serial numbers. I will have to scrub the ID chip before I can move the unit, which incurs a small service fee, of course."

  "Just put it on the tab, you lizard," Parker said, laughing before he produced the next item with a flourish. "How about this? Three drums of high-explosive ammunition, compatible with the Thresher rotary system. Universal caliber."

  "Ammunition always sells," Vex nodded, waving a hand dismissively. "It holds a stable currency value. I will give you market rate plus five percent for the high-explosive variant. But these represent small potatoes, gentlemen. You did not book a private appointment to sell me used tools and bullets. Show me the real prize."

  Damien exchanged a look with Parker, a silent communication of shared anticipation. He reached into the bottom of the bag and pulled out the heavy, lead-lined satchel they had recovered from the dead Corsair. He placed the bag in the center of the desk and undid the magnetic clasps.

  The room bathed instantly in a soft, violet light.

  Vex recoiled slightly, his eyes widening until they were almost entirely black. He leaned in, his breath fogging the air as he stared at the cluster of raw Spark nodes.

  "Deep-vein crystal," Vex whispered, his voice trembling with genuine reverence. "Look at the refraction. This didn't come from the surface. This grew in the dark, under immense pressure. Where did you find this?"

  "Let's just say the Corsairs did the digging, and we did the extracting," Damien said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Two kilos, Vex. Unrefined, pure, and highly unstable."

  "Two kilos," Vex repeated, doing the math in his head. "The market fluctuates, but a deposit of this purity... this commands a premium. The Corsairs must be weeping in hell right now."

  "We also have the acid glands from the previous run," Parker reminded him, pulling out a separate containment unit. "Don't forget the chemistry set."

  "Yes, yes, the fluids," Vex waved a hand, his eyes still locked on the Spark. "Biologicals go to the labs. But this... this goes to the Spire. The Executive Board will want first refusal on a crystal load of this size."

  "Give us the breakdown, Vex," Damien ordered, watching the broker’s fingers fly across his terminal. "We want the full profit report. No hidden fees, no 'service charges' for looking at your ugly mug."

  Vex tapped a final command, and a holographic spreadsheet materialized in the air between them, spinning slowly to show the itemized list.

  [ PROFIT REPORT: OPERATION SWAMP-RAT ]

  >> SELLER: DAMIEN/PARKER

  >> BROKER: VEX (SCALES & SALES)

  [ ASSET LIQUIDATION ]

  > 1x VC-9 JAMMER UNIT ................ 12,000 CR

  > 1x IRON-CLAD THERMAL CUTTER ........ 8,500 CR

  > 3x HE AMMO DRUMS ................... 4,500 CR

  > 2.1kg DEEP-VEIN SPARK .............. 6,300,000 CR

  > MISC. SCAVENGED GEAR ............... 2,500 CR

  [ DEDUCTIONS & FEES ]

  > COALITION SPARK TITHE (30%) ........ -1,890,000 CR

  > STATION TAX (12%) .................. -756,000 CR

  > ID SCRUBBING FEE (CUTTER) .......... -500 CR

  > U.I. BROKERAGE FEE (4% - PREFERRED) -252,000 CR

  > YEKA VAL-KORG SHARE (WAIVED) ....... 0 CR

  > VINTO SHARE (WAIVED) ............... 0 CR

  >> TOTAL NET PROFIT: ................... 3,429,000 CR

  >> SPLIT (50/50): ...................... 1,714,500 CR

  "Wait," Parker interrupted, pointing at the bottom of the list. "Yeka waived her share again? And Vinto too?"

  "The notification arrived while you were in transit," Vex explained, his tone envious. "Ms. Val-Korg indicated that she 'does not require pocket change' and that Vinto is 'adequately compensated by the estate.' She instructed me to add their portions to your total as a 'performance bonus' for keeping her entertained."

  "She thinks three million credits is pocket change," Damien shook his head, a mixture of disgust and gratitude washing over him. "Must be nice to own a planet."

  "It must indeed," Vex agreed, finalizing the transfer. "The credits have been deposited into your secure accounts. You are now, by station standards, extremely wealthy men. Not 'buy a starship' wealthy, but certainly 'buy a small island' wealthy."

  "One point seven million," Parker breathed, slumping back in his chair as the reality hit him. "Damien. That’s it. That’s the number. I can fund the trust, pay off the house on Mars, and still have enough to buy a ticket to anywhere."

  "It’s a good haul, Parker," Damien smiled, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "We earned it."

  "So," Vex asked, clasping his hands together. "Will you be reinvesting in new ordnance? Perhaps a personal shield generator? I have a shipment of heavy mechs coming in from the Core..."

  "Not today, Vex," Damien stood up, stretching his legs. "We’re done shopping.” He unleashed a long stretch of joy. “I think… I think we’re going to take a break."

  "A break?" Vex looked horrified. "But the market is hot! The Southern Sector is yielding record profits!"

  "And record casualties," Parker added, standing up as well. "We need to recharge. The gear needs maintenance, and our bodies need sleep."

  "Very well," Vex sighed, looking at the empty space on his desk where the Spark had been. "I suppose even predators need to digest. But do not stay away too long. The jungle grows back, and so do the prices."

  They left the Exchange, walking out into the main concourse with a lightness in their steps that had nothing to do with gravity. The station hummed around them, a hive of activity, but for the first time in months, they didn't feel like they were part of the machine. They felt like they had beaten it.

  They found a quiet spot on the observation deck, gazing down at the swirling green marble of Wesley. The planet looked beautiful from up here, peaceful and serene, hiding its teeth beneath the clouds.

  "So," Damien said, leaning on the railing. "What’s the plan, Parker? You have the credits to spoil those kids and you have the job offer to retire. You going to take off early?"

  Parker shook his head, staring at the planet. "No. I promised you I'd stay for the rotation. I’m a man of my word. But... I think I need to make a trip so see if that really is the life I want right now. Just a short one."

  "The kids?" Damien guessed.

  "Of course that is part of it," Parker smiled, pulling up a holo-photo of his children on his wrist comp. "Leo has a flight recital next week. Maya is graduating from primary school. I haven't seen them in six months, Damien. I've just been a voice on a comms link and a credit transfer notification."

  "Go," Damien said instantly. "Take the slingshot wormhole shuttle. Spend a week away from this hellhole. Buy them ice cream and whatever kids want these days. You can afford it now."

  "You sure?" Parker asked, looking at him. "You’ll be alone on the station."

  Damien scoffed at his friend, but he was touched that his friend cared.

  "I have plenty to do," Damien assured him. "My suit needs repairs, I have a date with a very expensive bottle of whiskey, and Kami mentioned something about reviewing architectural plans for a beach bar. Or maybe it was scouting potential purchase sites. I kinda get lost in her cleavage sometimes, her eyes the others."

  "That's how they get you!” Parker teased. “But I’m glad she’s really digging into that." He laughed. "I think she wants to be there when you retire, if ya know what I mean."

  "I think she just wants to spend time with me. It also shows that she cares," Damien said with a sigh. "I… There could be a lot worse ways to spend my time when you’re gone. So yeah, go see your kids, Parker. Spoil them rotten for the both of us. Tell them their dad fights monsters and wins—and if you need me to tell them a neat story, I’m good for it."

  "I will," Parker said, his voice thick with emotion. "But we still have the next rotation. The Archipelago. You ready for that?"

  "The jungle is farmed out from what I can tell. We end up killing more monsters for loot than finding actual Spark," Damien nodded, looking at the tactical display on the wall which showed the 'Closed for Regeneration' icons appearing over the forest sectors. "The Coalition is shutting down the drop zones in the Western and Southern sectors first, then North and East. The only open zones will be the Shattered Isles soon enough."

  "Tropical islands," Parker mused. "Sun, sand, and ocean."

  "Ha, it's just a tropical jungle instead of a regular alien jungle. Oh, and Leviathans," Damien added. "Don't forget the sea monsters."

  "Right, the sea monsters," Parker sighed. "Why can't we ever raid a planet filled with fluffy bunnies?"

  "Because fluffy bunnies don't guard immortality drugs," Damien pointed out.

  "Fair point," Parker conceded. "Alright. I’ll book a ticket on the next transport to Mars. I’ll be back in ten days. That gives the station time to tow the rig to the new orbital anchor above the ocean."

  "Ten days," Damien agreed, extending his hand. "Bring me back a souvenir. Something that isn't made of gray metal."

  "I'll bring you a rock," Parker shook his hand firmly. "A red one. From my backyard."

  They stood there for a moment, two warriors at the crossroads, watching the world turn beneath them. The break was necessary. The jungle had taken its toll, not just on their armor, but on their souls. They needed to remember what they were fighting for.

  "Go," Damien said, shoving Parker gently toward the lift. "Before I change my mind and try to get one last drop into the north."

  "I'm gone!" Parker laughed, breaking into a jog. "See you in the sun, brother!"

  Damien watched him go, feeling a strange mixture of happiness and loneliness. Parker deserved this. He deserved to be a father, not just a soldier.

  Damien turned back to the window, looking at the reflection of his own face in the glass. He looked older than his years, the lines around his eyes deep and etched with fatigue. But there was something else there too, something he hadn't seen in a long time.

  Hope.

  He tapped his comms unit. "Kami? It’s Damien."

  "Damien?" Her voice came back instantly, warm and surprised. "I thought you were with Vex."

  "We just finished," Damien said. "Parker is heading home for a week. I find myself suddenly unemployed and wealthy."

  "A dangerous combination," Kami teased. "What are you going to do with yourself?"

  "Well," Damien said, looking at the stars. "I was thinking about that dossier you mentioned. The ocean worlds. Maybe we could...review it? Over dinner?"

  "I think I can clear my schedule," Kami said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "Come up to the yacht. Yeka is on one of her lover’s ships. We don’t have the place to ourselves, but it’s pretty empty."

  "I'm on my way," Damien said.

  He pushed off the railing, leaving the view of the jungle behind. The next drop would be wet, dangerous, and terrifying. The Archipelago waited with storms and monsters.

  But for now, there was peace along with money in the bank. And there was a woman waiting for him whose motives seemed sincere.