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NOX
As Nox closed the deal on his most recent delivery, an out-of-control ship blazed overhead, a wake of thick black smoke marring the bright Cinzia’s sky.
That could be a nice salvage, Nox thought. Once this deal is done, I’ll head over and see if there’s anything worth any credits in the wreckage.
A needle of contrition spiked his heart when he realized he hadn’t spared so much as a thought for anyone on that ship. A sharp pivot from the young man who joined Starguard all those years ago, determined to make the galaxy a better place. Now, his first thought wasn’t for the lives lost or the possibility of survivors, but to the credits he might scavenge from the ship’s scattered carcass.
He clenched his jaw and made a note to try and do better. Well, do better while still pulling in credits. After all, a man had to eat, and these days, paying the crew and keeping his ship in the sky were his priorities, not playing hero.
Besides, he provided a necessary service to places like this untamed planet and the colonies scraping by on the outer rim. Everyone deserved access to food, medicine, and even luxury products, no matter where they lived. And if the governments weren’t willing to provide that access, well, the crew of Antana’s Luck would step in to fill the void.
Existential crisis averted, he turned back to his buyer. Feriq S´a, unofficial mayor of Toro, purveyor of fine under-the-table goods, and member of the cat-like Felida people, watched the ship disappear behind a dune, concern clouding his amber eyes.
“You ready to finish this?” Nox asked, tipping his head towards the stack of crates beside him. “Or are you having second thoughts?” Gods, I hope not. I can’t afford to lose his credits, not when my ship needs jump pellets, fuel, and a new capacitor. But he didn’t let his concern show. He had a hard-won reputation as a relatively reliable badass to maintain.
Feriq was one of Nox’s first and most reliable customers. However, since the once-lawless territory Feriq lived in had come under new leadership, his need for many of the staples Nox supplied had dried up. Shockingly, this new leader, Tanl’n Maher, actually wanted his people to be healthy and happy, unlike so many of Cinzia’s other so-called leaders, who viewed them only as walking, talking sacks of credits.
Feriq gave him a sharp-toothed grin, the cat-like ears poking out of his long mane of hair swiveling towards Nox. “Don’t get your panties in a wad, my dear Captain Ovila. Our deal is struck. Despite the recent changes in territory leadership, there are still plenty of places on our little desert planet that need access to what we provide.” He waved a hand at the world beyond where the pair stood, the gold fabric of his caftan shimmering in the afternoon suns with every broad gesture. His long tail curled up through the overlapping slit cut in the back of the garment. “I was merely concerned about the occupants of that ship. This is troll country, after all, and they’ve been particularly active as late.”
Nox curled a lip. The feral trolls on this planet were no joke. His gaze flickered towards the fading smoke trail. An injured crash survivor stood no chance if the trolls found them. The needle slid deeper.
“You know,” Feriq said, “it would take a weight off my mind if someone would check out the crash site, make sure there’s no one who needs any help.”
“He means you,” Navi Halonen, Nox’s executive officer, his XO, said over the team comm. The man was meant to be providing long-range cover and support, not providing snarky commentary. But Navi just couldn’t help himself.
“I need to get back to my ship,” Nox said, reluctant to get involved. He wasn’t a rescuer. He was a privateer, and he had things to do, a schedule to keep. Never mind that he’d planned on scoping out the wreck for salvage.
Feriq eyed him, his vertical pupils contracting into thin slits. “You know, I’ve worked with a lot of pirates in my time…”
“Pirates can be pretty scummy. Luckily, I’m a privateer,” he said, crossing his arms and rocking back on his heels. “Fully bonded and licensed with United Body of Planets Oversight.” Never mind that sixty percent of his cargo was off the books. That shiny gold medallion had gotten him in and out of more places than he could recall.
Feriq’s thick tail flicked an irritated beat. “But no matter who I work with, I find it hard to trust those who could so easily ignore someone in need.”
He grunted, bracing himself for the punchline.
“Why, just recently, one of my other suppliers put his life on the line to help a woman with a bounty on her head. Perhaps you’ve heard of him. Quin Sidron?”
Navi’s quick intake of breath hissed in his ear. Navi knew him. Knew him well. Had flown with him a while, even.
The two men eyed each other. Nox knew Feriq knew he needed his continued business. The canny Felida had him over a barrel. But the damned cat-man enjoyed playing with his prey before pouncing. He also liked poking his nose into other people’s lives far more often than was good for his health. But, despite Feriq’s propensity for games, he liked the man.
The leather of Nox’s armor creaked as he shifted stance, the soles of his steel-tipped boots scuffing over sand-covered stone. “I’m familiar with him. Decent guy. Teamed up with a crew of reformed pirates to form a new merc company. What of it?”
“Well,” Feriq drawled, stroking a hand over his long hair, “Sidron’s new outfit, Rogue Justice, has the positive patina that only comes from helping right wrongs and aiding those in need.” He looked Nox dead in the eye. “Exactly the type of people I’m most comfortable working with.”
In his ear, Navi cursed.
The corner of his eyelid twitched. “Let me get this straight. You’ll throw away our solid working relationship — one built on cycles of mutually beneficial interactions, I might add — if I don’t check that wrecked ship for survivors?”
“You’d be doing a favor for an old friend.” Feriq gestured over his shoulder at the two scruffy-looking men waiting out of earshot. They slung the long-barreled blasters over their shoulders and started loading the crates into the open bed of their rover.
“He’s going to cut ties if you say no,” Navi said. “You can’t let that happen.”
No shit, Nox thought, willing Navi to shut the hells up.
“It is, of course, completely your choice, Captain. However, I would be disappointed if you chose not to. In fact, this might very well be the last time I hand over a bag of untraceable credits to you.” He jangled a fat leather bag in one palm, head cocked as he studied Nox. “But I also know in my heart you are a more decent man than you give yourself credit for. One who, when given the opportunity, will rise to the challenge.” With a wink and a flash of sharp canines, he tossed Nox the bag.
