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The nagas raised their guns and undulated their long serpentine bodies in opposite directions as I swung my plasma lash around and over my head. The pain of doing this with a deep wound in my back made everything spin and go hazy for a moment.

Stretched to its full length, the lash crossed the distance between us and sliced through the larger of the two Altasians before he had a chance to fire. His scream pierced the air as his torso split horizontally, severed all the way down to his spine.

As he collapsed, I dashed to where my weapons had ended up after Vinian disarmed me. A bolt of plasma seared the air just over my head as I grabbed one plasma gun and dove behind the dying naga.

The second Altasian fired through his partner’s torso, leaving a gaping hole where the male’s hearts had once been. The plasma bolt, though diminished by cutting through a thick body, left a scorching wound across my hip.

I clenched my jaw to hold back a scream and launched myself forward, taking cover behind a tall stack of shipping crates with bring yellow symbols indicating their contents were volatile. The remaining Altasian probably wouldn’t shoot them trying to get to me and blow up the docking bay—or the entire station, depending on what was in the crates.

I checked my weapon. Fully charged still. Excellent. My odds of getting out of here alive just went up by at least thirty percent.

Biting my lip to stifle a groan, I staggered against the crates. The cold metal felt good on my hot forehead. My body temperature had risen while the nanobots struggled to repair my wounds. I felt like I was boiling inside my skin.

I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or disappointed that station security hadn’t yet come running. Surely the bay’s sensors had detected small weapons fire? Possibly Vinian had paid them off to look the other way until his business here had concluded.

The docking bay remained completely quiet except for the low humming of the station’s systems. Despite the naga’s bulk, I didn’t hear any hint of scales sliding across the metal deck. The way they moved so silently never failed to make my skin crawl.

He knew where I was, so there was no sense staying quiet. “Hey, friend,” I called out. “Can we bargain?”

Silence. I took that as a no.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’d paid off a mercenary to let me slip through their fingers, but generally that only worked on mercs who’d been contracted by small-time players. Whoever had sent these Altasians was big enough that Vinian had wanted their favors, and those favors had apparently been very valuable. Still, it was worth a shot.

I was ready to put this station behind me and then climb into my emergency medpod and pass out. All the gods above and below, did I hurt.

I needed to finish this and get aboard the Nivilus. Just because only two Altasians had come with Vinian to the docking bay didn’t mean there weren’t more on their ship. They might already be on their way if the survivor had called for backup.

“Sssscrap.”

The low, sibilant voice came from the other side of the crates. It sounded like he was in the open area between my ship and the doors that led deeper into the station.

I really wanted to know who’d made this deal with Vinian and sent the Altasians to bring me back, but I had a feeling this hired gun wasn’t going to give me any answers. He might not even know.

The docking bay had all the usual security features, including a weapons lockdown protocol and remote guidance system that took control of vessels and piloted them into and out of the bay. The former was designed to prevent large weapons fire within the bay, and the latter to reduce the chance of pilot error causing a crash.

For years, whenever I was in this sector, I’d used Daventi Station as a meetup point for jobs. I’d routinely stretched my legs on its promenade. Small but not too small, out of the way but not too out of the way, busy enough to feel anonymous but not jam-packed, corrupt but not so corrupt as to be lawless, the station had been perfect for my needs.

Unfortunately, I was about to ensure I could never come back here again—if I managed to survive, anyway.

I pressed the inside of my left wrist to my mouth, feeling the warm metal of my wristcomm through my bloody sleeve. “Shadow two-five-eight-seven,” I murmured, my voice barely audible even to me. “Siber, target Altasian bio-signature, attack level three. Ready sub hatch on kill.”

The wristcomm buzzed twice to confirm that the Nivilus’s AI had received both the emergency code and my instructions.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled.

Spurred by instincts honed in childhood, I dove out from behind the crates and rolled before my brain had a chance to make a conscious decision about moving. Three rapid-fire plasma bolts seared the air over my head and scored smoking gouges in the deck in my wake. I leapt to my feet and dashed for my ship.

In my peripheral vision, the naga emerged from behind the crates. His rifle, armed with a stun net ejector, was aimed squarely at my back.

I dropped to the deck as the Nivilus fired a controlled burst of plasma over my head. It incinerated the Altasian before he could fire the net, leaving only a smoking hunk of flesh behind.

With his death went my only chance to find out who’d put this particular bounty on my head. Oh well. Sometimes I had to choose between answers and survival. This was going to be one of those times.

Alarms split the air, triggered by my ship overriding the station’s weapon lockdown protocol and remote guidance system. Time to go.

My vision swam as I scrambled to my feet, grabbed one of Vinian’s still-twitching tentacles, and staggered toward my ship’s small side hatch. The ringing in my ears almost drowned out the alarms.

I made it to the hatch and slapped my hand to the bio scanner just as the doors to the docking bay ground open. A half-dozen uniformed security personnel spilled through the gap. All of them had their weapons raised.