I spend the majority of my time on planets similar to this one. Shit holes like X24 make up the bulk of this sector of space.

For a mercenary, most of the jobs are often found in places such as this, but that doesn’t mean I will ever grow to like them. Before disembarking from my ship, I spend a few moments watching the chaos of the landing zone. Alien species of every sort stream past, fighting for room to walk in the crowd that always gathers in such places at midday. Ships are always coming and going. When I was young and had never left my home planet, I could have watched them take off for hours, but now I’m so used to the sight that it is commonplace.

I leave the ship after a moment of watching, gauging the mood of the landing zone before I disembark. I prefer to observe before I interact, as it gives me more information about the place I have come to. In my line of work, the smallest detail is often instrumental to survival. I have already, in the time since leaving the ship, spotted four possible routes that I can use to escape the area, should a quick exit become paramount. I clench and unclench my blue fists subconsciously as my eyes flicker from place to place.

I prefer to fight my battles to the end, as do most other Velorians. There are few species that could best a Velorian in combat without the help of serious numbers or serious weaponry. But occasionally, I have cargo in tow that cannot be risked in a fight.

I weave my way through the throngs of aliens, on my way to somewhere quieter. Velorians stand a head taller than most other species, and there are only a few I can name that exceed them in height. This gives me an easy view of the route I need to take to reach my destination. I cut left, most of the aliens I cross stepping aside once they get a look at me. My people have a reputation for being honorable, but the sight of a warrior-mercenary striding toward them still makes some nervous enough to give me a wide berth. Especially on planets so rife with illegal activity, such as this one.

I always do my best to avoid fights that endanger civilians, but I know that other warriors often don’t, and I understand their reluctance to get too close. For the most part, X24 is a cesspool of villainous scum, but that doesn’t mean everyone here deserves to be caught in a fight. Every planet and every species has its fair share of innocents, save for perhaps the Xzerg, the race that had all but wiped out my own people.

As I continue walking, the streets grow more narrow, the buildings more ramshackle. Even if I didn’t have the location pinpointed on the navigational tool around my forearm, fused into the armor I wear, I would have guessed this was the part of the city that houses the majority of the villainous scum. The bigwigs running the show likely live elsewhere, in ridiculously lavish homes, but this is where the business is done.

The marketplace is bustling at this time of day, though not quite as much as the landing zone. Vendors of every sort try to sell me their wares as I pass, ignoring them all. I move toward the more sparsely filled sections of the area, and keep walking until the streets are practically bare, before my personal navigator lights up, confirming that I’ve arrived. I expected a more central location, as I know my client is likely to be on the twitchy side, and it generally makes people feel safer to have a small audience for any sort of business. The preference for a comparatively abandoned part of the city has me on higher alert than I would have been otherwise. This sort of exchange is nothing special, but even after one hundred similar situations, it never pays to let one’s guard down.

I pay close attention to my surroundings as I enter the small shack that my prospective client, Zagg, has chosen for this meeting. He is already waiting, sitting in a chair positioned so that he can easily see the door and both open windows. Despite his precautions, he still jumps a bit when I step inside.

Zagg is a Duriuun, a rotund alien with green skin covered in an array of small spikes and several patches of dark fur. His appearance is anything but alarming, but despite their fairly innocuous looks, the spikes can be employed in a fight to some degree of usefulness.

The Duriuun race is nearly as different as one could get from the appearance of my own species. Velorians have spines, slightly different than spikes. My own are white tipped, and run in two lines from my shoulders to my tail. They are made from cartilage as opposed to bone, and while still sharp enough to do damage to any unknowledgeable attacker, they are flexible enough to bend without breaking if I lose my footing or find myself pinned against something unyielding. Although Duriuuns look unthreatening to someone with my build, I have learned not to place too much stock in someone’s looks or species.

“You’re early,” Zagg says, leaving the chair and walking to stand in the center of the room.

“So are you,” I reply. I close the door behind me and take a few steps forward, stopping with enough space between the two of us to avoid making the smaller alien overly anxious. “What’s the job?”

Zagg makes a snorting sound that I recognize as a short laugh. “I always forget that your kind has such a distaste for small talk,” he says. Shaking his head, he produces a small storage device and tosses it to me. “The details are on there. Short version is that I need you to get rid of a rival dealer.”

“For what reason?” I ask, turning the device over in my hands, feeling the flimsy length of it between my fingers.

“He’s selling for too cheap,” Zagg says, face twisting a bit in irritation. He was obviously expecting an easy transaction. Normally, that is how it works. I would accept the relevant information, and take anywhere from ten percent to fifty up front, before returning with proof of some sort and receiving the remainder of my payment.

My eyes narrow at his words. It is plain that Zagg is referring to selling a drug of some sort, and my keen sense of smell tells me that Zagg himself gains some enjoyment from the drug as well. Disposing of the dealer will no doubt make this part of X24 a safer place, but only temporarily. It seems that Zagg left out crucial information in the initial message, which only stated that he needed a problematic individual removed from his community. I was suspicious from the start, as Duriuuns are known across galaxies for their general disinterest in the truth when it gets in the way of their ambitions. But as a rule, I don’t make judgment calls based solely on the species of a potential client. Every race has its stereotypes, and Velorians aren’t exempt from such assumptions about our character.

“It sounds as though you simply wish to kill the dealer for personal gain. As soon as he’s dead, you’ll rack the prices up and do more damage than before,” I say.

Zagg looks affronted. Most are not familiar enough with Duriuun facial expressions to place such a look, but I have done business with his kind on numerous occasions.

“That,” he says, “is a completely unfair assumption.”

“I don’t believe you,” I say simply. “What you need are cronies to keep you from dirtying your own hands. I’m not a crony—I am a warrior. I may be a mercenary, but I live by a code of honor.”

Zagg rolls his eyes, a fairly universal sign of annoyance or disbelief. “You Velorians and your endless codes and lists and rules. It must get tiring, living with such a stick up your tail.”

I allow the Duriuun to snatch the device from my open hand, and turn to leave. Zagg’s voice stops me cold before I can make it over the threshold. “If you mention my plans to anyone, I’ll make certain your business on this planet is through.”

There are many things that I dislike on mere principle, but being threatened rankles me more than most, and especially being threatened by someone so spineless as Zagg.

I turn toward him and take several quick steps forward, fast enough that the Duriuun, whose steps are slow and shuffling, has scarcely any chance to move beyond reach. I close my fingers around a fistful of the long tufts of hair that stick out from Zagg’s chest and neck. I am perfectly capable of making my own threat in return, but I do not need words to do so.

I let the tightly coiled cold within me expand from my center outward, slowly channeling it into the fingers of my clenched fist. There are few sensations more paralyzing than the touch of an Ice Velorian that one has managed to upset. The fur begins to super-cool, ice crystals forming and moving outward, making a web-like pattern on the green parts of the Duriuun’s body.

Zagg is shaking, and I am sure it is from more than the cold spreading through him. “Wait! Wait! You misunderstood.”

I allow myself a short laugh, before dropping Zagg to the ground, where he collapses with a thump, rubbing at his chest to melt the ice away.

“I hope so,” I say.

I leave through the same door I entered from, not once looking back to see if Zagg has more stupid ideas in his arsenal.

X24 is indeed a cesspool. This detour only confirms it. I have wasted valuable fuel getting here, and will need a job of some sort before I leave again if I am to make it any significant distance away. Of course, I knew this when I came here. I have seen much of this galaxy, and much of several neighboring ones as well, which makes me fairly well traveled for a Velorian. I did not come here solely for the job, but to answer the strange tug within me that pulled me in this direction. Lately, when I look over the maps on my ship, my eyes always settle on this section, on this planet.

Zagg was a disappointment, as is X24, but as I sweep my hood back on and stride away toward the square, I still feel certain I will find some purpose here.