Haze tested the door to make sure it locked and headed for the lobby.

There wasn’t much he could do about his appearance, but he had plenty of tracker skills to throw off this lot.

This held true until he reached the edge of town, going along the path as it sloped slightly upwards across the chasm, and came face-to-face-to-face with Nethar again. And realized he was complete shit at stealth. As a Mahdfel, he was too used to the straight-on approach.

“Hmm,” the man said. “Funny to see you here, Hazryn. That girl’s plenty pretty, sure, but not really your type, I think? I think you might prefer them a bit more dirty, hungry. Isn’t that right?”

“Whatever, Nethar. If you can’t keep track of your girls, nothing of mine to care for.” Haze shifted Tiny to his other hand. He could kill just fine from either, and it seemed warranted to remind a certain slaver scum that he had her ready. “Want to get out of my way, voluntary-like, or would you rather I remove your legs so you sort of…” He gestured to the edge of the path. “…fall out of my way?”

Nethar held up his hands, which were disturbingly empty of weapons. “No need. Just thought I’d have a bit of a chat, seeings as we’re such comrades now.”

“We ain’t comrades, Nethar.” He held up Tiny, contemplating. The world certainly wouldn’t miss scum like Nethar. “So, how’d you follow me, anyway?”

“Boss has everyone looking for you, and since everyone works for the boss…” He shrugged his shoulders. “It all kind of works out in our favor, yah?”

“What’s your boss want?” Haze asked resigned.

“Just a chat. A small talk about engine parts… girls that don’t belong to you. The usual.”

Haze shook his head, drawing himself up. “I only got what’s mine here.”

Nethar nodded fast, bobbling with both heads, a smile on both faces. Then he stopped and shrugged his shoulders. “Do you though? Have what’s yours, I mean?”

Haze went cold at that, as he comprehended that Nethar meant that Vi was in danger, possibly already taken. Time slowed down. The air crystallized in front of him, and it was as though a burst of light spread from the sun. His tattoos warmed and glowed, spreading up his arms, ’til he burst into the flames of hellfire.

He was behind Nethar in a moment – less than – his hidden knife pressed to one of the man’s throats drawing drops of blood. “I’ll do it personal,” he warned. “You’ll feel every bit of it with your healthy head until I do that one too. What have you done with what’s mine?”

The slaver started to speak, but a loud clap of thunder rang out, putting a hole in the man and spinning Haze around from the impact.

“We just want to talk—” a man up the path said.

Haze didn’t let the man finish, throwing his knife with one hand as he fell to the ground, breathing dust. Haze rolled to the side of the dusty trail, letting himself roll to the bottom of the chasm. He scrambled against the side of the slope, his only hope that he had managed to hit the guy. If he’d missed, the guy would be on him in a minute, and Haze was definitely in an exposed position.

He inspected his body for damage. It appeared to be ricochet damage to his stomach from the blast that killed Nethar. Nothing that his Mahdfel genes couldn’t handle, especially if he could somehow sneak to the shuttle for some of his supplies. Of course, Tiny and one of his knives was now at the top of the trail, and he certainly wasn’t going back that way to collect it.

As though to prove he needed to get moving, he heard a groan from up above. So not dead but wounded. Unfortunate, but at least it bought him some time.

All of his senses had come alert now. He’d been phoning it in, thinking that Nethar was still the same useless, loner, slaver scum, underestimating everything about these men, betraying Vi’s trust in the process.

Fraska.

This boss man owned a planet, and yet, he was still after Haze’s ship and the potential booty on-board. It looked like they wanted to take over his ship’s route and the cargo.

Whoever it was, was dumb enough to think that Nethar was just the flunky to bring Haze in. Er, had been…

Haze’s only hope was that they truly believed he’d been looking for spare parts, that he really was a slaver, and that Vi was a slave. If they figured out that his ship was limping, the scavengers would be on the Xeo Tarlith in a heartbeat and leaving its real crew to float home.

It looked like they were trying to use Vi as a bargaining chip, so at least they would keep her alive long enough to sell her.

He held his wounded side and sidled along the bottom of the chasm toward town. He’d have to find a different path this time, the one he probably should have taken in the first place if he hadn’t been so cocky.

First things first, he had to get back to his shuttle, heal the damage, and do something about his green skin. Probably his tail too.