The entire sequence was fully-automated, save for a small crew of maintenance workers who were easy to bribe into silence. As far as they and the rest of the Quad were concerned, the planet remained uninhabited. Which was easy to believe since the only dry land on the planet was the caldera of a massive, active volcano and the small portion of land around it revealed by half a century of water removal.

  “Very cool,” Matt had said when Alter showed us the media, and again now that we were here in person.

  “Very cool indeed,” I added. “All of the ships in orbit here are smugglers?”

  “Or other ships available for dark ops,” Alter replied. “Of any kind. Being an assassin may be one of the cleanest of the professions of the individuals you’ll see planetside.”

  “Do you think we’ll be able to find a job pretty easily?”

  “A job, yes. The right job, perhaps. Perhaps not. I think it would be in your best interests to earn as much as possible from a single run.”

  “But the adage remains true, right? The greater the risk, the greater the reward?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are we ready for that kind of risk?”

  “Probably not. But it could take months to earn what you need relatively safely. Months you may not have.”

  “I feel great.”

  “You only have enough medications for a month. And the sickbay treatment might not be enough to keep your symptoms at bay. Neither is a cure.”

  “We can’t get similar meds here?”

  “Possibly. But that won’t stop the cancer from spreading.”

  “Understood.”

  “Also remember what I told you about the other mercenaries here. If any of them are under Sedaya’s flag, which is likely, there’s a good chance they’ll try to earn the bounty for your capture. They won’t know who I am, which will allow them to be bold until we give them a reason not to approach us.”

  “So we’re pretty much assured of being attacked down there,” Matt said.

  “I think it’s best to be prepared. It’s what you’ve been training for.”

  I could hear Matt swallow nervously behind me. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Good,” Alter replied. “We should never invite or initiate violence. But if it comes to us, we should be ready to utilize it to maximum effect.”

  “That’s a good one, Confucius,” I said.

  “Who’s Confucius?” Alter replied.

  “Do you have fortune cookies in the Spiral? Little cookies with messages inside them?”

  “I’ve seen cookies on Aleshem with microbot capsules in them, and when you break open the cookie they write a message in the air with colored lights.”

  “Fortune cookies two-point-oh,” Matt said.

  “On Earth, Confucius is the one who comes up with all the messages,” I added.

  “I see. So you approve of my message.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why didn’t you just say so?”

  “I thought I did.”

  A light on the console flashed orange, indicating an incoming encrypted, short-range comm. Alter leaned forward and flipped on the toggle, opening the channel and transmitting both the ship’s identifier and special codes she said we needed to acquire approval to land.

  “Head Case, this is Cestus Orbital Control, I have you on sensors. Are you a maker or a taker?”

  “Taker,” Alter replied.

  “And what level are you seeking?”

  “Level five. Or higher if there’s anything NV available in that range.”

  “Standby.”

  “NV?” Matt asked.

  “Non-violent,” Alter replied.

  “What’s your current maximum storage load?” Control asked.

  “Four hundred cubic meters,” Alter answered.

  “RID?”

  Alter glanced over at me. It was the first time since we met that she looked uncomfortable. She exhaled as she tapped on the console between our seats, entering a screen I had never seen before through a pattern of taps rather than an icon on the interface.

  “Transmitting,” she said.

  Control’s voice, suddenly shaky, followed a short silence. “Is this authentic?”

  “Very,” Alter replied coldly.

  “Uh. Okay. Um. I have two available contacts.”

  “Flags?”

  “Huron and Nakata.”

  “I’ll see Nakata’s maker first. Huron if that doesn’t work out.”

  “Confirmed. Transmitting connection identifier.”

  Matt held up Keep’s phone, which vibrated as though it had gotten a text message.

  “Identifier received,” Alter said.

  “Permission to land granted,” Control said. “Welcome to Cestus Alpha, Enigma.”

  The comm link disconnected.

  Chapter Forty

  “Enigma?” I asked, looking at Alter.

  “My pseudonym on the dex,” she replied. “Everyone who’s accepted a job through a dex has a pseudonym and a unique identifier. One is easy to fake, the other impossible. You’ll receive both when you sign your first contract. But only someone with a lot of experience has any chance of meeting a maker for a level five-plus job.”

  “So we’re riding your coattails,” Matt said.

  “I don’t know that term.”

  “Using your reputation to benefit ourselves.”

  “It would appear that way, but I also have strong motivation to keep Head Case under your ownership and away from Duke Sedaya. We both benefit.”

  “Fair enough. What were you asking about flags?”

  “Baron Huron and Baron Nakata. Two of the ten noble houses in the Quadrant. There used to be twelve, but Sedaya has swallowed two of them. Nakata has a reputation for offering better terms, and he’s part of the silent opposition to Sedaya. That’s why it’s our first choice. We’re fortunate to have an option.”

  “We’re fortunate to have you,” I said. “Is Alter your real name or another pseudonym?”

  “Avelus gave me that name,” she replied.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “What’s my real name?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know your name?”

  “No.”

  “Did you end up with amnesia or something?” She threw an icy glare at me that told me I had stepped over the line. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be a jerk.”

  “We’re approaching the ingress,” she said, changing the subject. She tapped at the air, but this time I knew exactly what she was doing. “Shields are active for atmospheric entry.”

  I cut the throttle by half, keeping a loose grip on the stick as I guided Head Case around the field of starships orbiting the planet. They all had a more traditional shape, mostly long and rectangular with a couple of more rounded designs. A few had bright paint jobs, but most were an unpainted gray or gunmetal. The sizes varied with a range from fifty to three or four hundred meters.

  “Are they still waiting for permission to land?” I asked.

  “The larger ships are too big to land,” Alter replied. “Their emissaries likely took a skiff to the surface to deal. The smaller vessels are probably waiting for hire. Sometimes it can take a few days to land a suitable contract, and not every captain wants their crew loitering in the settlement.”

  “Let me guess,” Matt said. “A hive of scum and villainy?”

  “I wouldn’t call them scum or villains, considering we’re about to join them. Individuals who make a career on illicit activity tend to promote vice. Prostitution, gambling, drinking, drugs, and black markets. You’ll find all of that and more down there.”

  “Sounds great,” I said sarcastically. “How long do you think we’ll need to be there?”

  “We already have a meeting set up. Hopefully not more than a few hours. Being on the ground leaves us exposed.”

  I guided Head Case into the atmosphere, only aware when we had contacted the thermosphere when the shields began to register the friction against them. Falling onto a planet was a lot easier than running away from one, and we broke through into clear skies, the singular landmass against the endless waves of ocean immediately visible through wispy cloud cover. The only other thing to see were the space elevators rising from submerged rigs anchored miles beneath the surface. Normally, the technology would have left me in awe, but I was growing increasingly nervous about touching down. Alter had said confrontation was pretty much a given, and I hated confrontation.

  My thoughts turned to orbital control’s reaction to Alter’s identifier. The man had sounded terrified, her reputation undoubtedly preceding her. I felt stupid to be worried when we had her at our side, and I did my best to calm down while we finished our descent.

  “Where should I land?” I asked, looking down at the collection of ships arranged along the natural terrain of the island. Matching the ships above, they were an assortment of shapes, sizes, and in a few cases colors. While I could easily find similarities with starships from different sci-fi series—Battlestar Galactica here, Star Wars there, the Expanse a little further out—none of them looked anything like Head Case.

  “Anywhere there’s space,” Alter replied.

  “Which should be almost anywhere,” Matt said. “Only those little ones have a smaller footprint than us.”

  “The skiffs.”

  “I can’t believe we’re about to touch down on another planet,” Matt continued. “You should be a little more excited.”

  “It is awesome,” I agreed. “But I’ll feel better when we’re on our way out rather than in.”

  “We’ll be fine.”

  I appreciated his confidence and the fact that he had gone all-in on the adventure. It seemed knowing there was a chance to cure my cancer had left me more risk-averse than when my actions had led us here in the first place. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I let myself enjoy the sight of the other starships as I found a landing zone between them, even smiling by the time Alter extended the landing struts and we gently settled onto the dirt.

  “Welcome to Cestus Alpha,” Alter said, releasing her harness and standing up. “I’ll meet you two in the armory. Make sure you set the ship to hibernate before you leave the flight deck.”

  “Wilco,” I said, tapping in the air to bring up the augmented reality interface. I navigated to the security settings, putting the ship in hibernation. The primary control system would keep everything warm and ready to activate at a moment’s notice should we need to make a quick escape. That done, Matt and I got out of our seats and left the flight deck, taking the elevator to Deck Two.

  “Levi, open the armory door,” Matt said as we approached. It had taken us no time to get used to calling the ship’s computer Levi. Even Alter had taken to the name. Of course, now when I thought of the PCS I saw a sweet round face in thick glasses instead of an ugly metal box, but it was probably better that way.

  The heavy blast door swung inward, revealing the large arsenal of death.

  Unlike the other storage areas that seemed haphazardly arranged, the armory was impeccably organized, a place for everything and everything in its place. Spacesuits, body armor, and other tactical gear lined the shelves along the immediate portside bulkhead. At least one of everything was sized for Alter, while a couple of the suit designs were one-size-fits-all in a stretchable, rubbery material that hugged the body. Matt and I had both tried on the vacuum-protected gear. Neither of us wanted to turn around to face Alter when we did, though it didn’t matter as much in my case since she had already seen me fully unwrapped. While the suits had a codpiece to hide our junk, they were still too tight to be comfortable in her presence. On further reflection, it was a stupid attitude to take, especially because I was looking forward to having a reason to put it on and venture directly into space.

  Small arms waited on the shelves beyond the armor and gear, the assortment of remade weapons impersonating a museum of antique guns. A range of deadly output was available, from more conventional bullets to plasma toroids like the rifles we had used, to ion blasters and energy beams to ray guns. They took an array of appearances, from a small plasma pistol I could hide in my palm to a larger pulse gun that I could barely lift in one hand. A few of the weapons had grips that clearly weren’t intended for human hands. Alter explained how the Acheon delivered the guns in one big lot, and they were included in the pile.

  Past the small arms were the rifles, similar to the pistols in the randomness of their design, but bigger. The plasma rifles carried more charge and fired larger toroids. The railguns featured much larger magazines, higher calibers, and greater stopping power. And so on. My favorite of the group was a long gun that looked like a single-shot rifle from the American Civil War, but had been converted to a ray gun that couldn’t be used on the ship because it would instantly put a hole through every deck and even the hull. I had no idea where the Acheon had gotten it, but every time I entered the armory my eyes drifted to the gun.

  A set of six large containers sat beside the long guns, neatly stacked. During our first full tour of the armory, Alter had taken the top container down and opened it, revealing a projectile launcher inside. Fancier than any bazooka or RPG launcher I had ever seen, it had a large foldable LED screen on the side, which the shooter could use to guide the explosive munitions after firing. Military grade and probably an accidental dump to Demitrus, she said it was the most valuable ordnance on the ship, easily worth a hundred thousand electros on the black market. She had been surprised when she found it among the Acheon’s delivery.

  The other containers held lesser ordnance. Grenade launchers, explosives, and the like. The last racks and shelves beside them were the melee weapons. Knives, short swords, kukri, nunchucks, and other short-range weapons. There was nothing like the batons ICP Alter produced from her baggy clothes, but I really didn’t want anything to do with stabbing or slicing someone anyway. If anyone got that close to me and Alter didn’t step in, I was already screwed.

  I made a straight line to the small arms, trying a few of the guns before I found one that fit the holster well. A simple gun, it had a square body and a triangular barrel. Alter had taught us how to identify the type of ordnance the guns fired by the location of its power source. A plasma pistol in this case, it held a cell inside the grip the size of a USB drive that plugged into a slot designed for it as though the gun were a computer.

  Matt picked out a blaster, a little larger than mine with a more conventional look save for the square battery that snapped into the top of the body. It fit his holster a little awkwardly, but securely enough that he would be able to grab it if needed and it wouldn’t fall out.

  “Are you gentlemen ready?” Alter asked in an almost unfamiliar voice, drawing our immediate attention.

  She had changed again, into a persona that immediately brought Catwoman to mind. Or maybe, Enigma. A fitted black outfit lined with what looked like matte black armor plating. A dark utility belt with a pair of blasters and her batons hanging from her hips. Dark skin, wide nose, full lips, and short, curly hair. Her purple eyes were explosively venomous in contrast, the serious set of her jaw and her posture in the doorway overloaded with confidence.

  She hadn’t just made minor adjustments to her outward appearance. She was almost another person altogether. One that unnerved me just looking at her.

  I was glad she was on our side.

  “You look…” Matt said, trailing off as he tried to find the words.

  “Different,” I finished for him, figuring it was preferable to what he was probably thinking. “We’re ready.”

  She eyed the guns in our holsters. “Good selection. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  I squinted as soon as we exited Head Case through the smaller hatch in the hangar bay doors, the sun unexpectedly bright, especially compared to the lighting inside the ship. My heart thumped with excitement as we descended the ramp to the layer of limestone that formed the outer bed of Cestus Island. I immediately took a knee so I could reach out and touch the alien soil. Another planet. Another life. A fleeting moment of worry about Mom’s worry for me sent a chill of homesickness rushing through me before it was once again drowned out by amazement.

  “Act like you’ve done this before,” Alter suggested, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  I shot back to my feet, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. The shore was lined with starships, but they all seemed abandoned.

  Glancing at Matt, I saw he had Keep’s phone in hand, in the middle of activating the ship’s full security lockdown. The inner hatch slid closed, a slight shimmer offering notice that the shields were active. Nothing would get through without a lot of effort and a signal to the device that Head Case was under attack.

  Even better than Sentry Mode on a Tesla.

  “This way,” Alter said, leading us from the ship and along the shore.

  I looked out at the ocean as we walked. With no moon orbiting the planet, the tides remained almost flat, the water like glass all the way to the horizon. Incredible.

  We covered half a mile on foot before reaching a heavy gate at the edge of the cliff, the island’s original waterline. A pair of men in slightly ragged blue uniforms waited in front of the open gate, rifles in hand, obviously bored by the lack of activity. Their visages brightened, and they straightened as we approached. One of them drew a small, clear slab from a pocket.

  “ID?” he said.

  Matt tapped on the phone. “Transmitting.”

  “Received,” the guard said. “Confirmed.” He and the other guard stepped aside to let us pass. A stone stairway beyond the gate brought us up and away from the beach.

  “They didn’t seem to know who you are,” I said to Alter as we ascended.