Chapter 1
Quinn
Aliens have a bit of a problem with stealing.
The Taneyemms liberated the children of Craveloua. The Dreaglans borrowed the children of Taneyemm. The Martians helped the children of Earth.
And me?
I took a ship.
Stealing isn’t our fault, really. It’s part of who we are. It’s part of what makes us the lovable, wonderful creatures that have fascinated humans for millennia.
If only the rest of the galaxy saw things the same way I do.
As it is, they don’t. In fact, taking ships, even from assholes who deserve it, is completely frowned upon. I’m not keen on prison, which means my only choice is to run.
So I run.
I leave Sapphira. I leave my home planet. I take my ship and go. I expect I’ll get to see the world. I expect I’ll get to explore the planets that surround my own. I expect all have all sorts of wonderful adventures, but I don’t.
I don’t because the interstellar police are much more interested than I expected in retrieving their stolen vessel.
So I run faster, farther.
I run harder.
And that’s how I end up hiding out on Dreagle: the darkest, nastiest, most terrible place in the damn universe.
Dreagle: where anything goes as long as it’s done in secret.
Dreagle isn’t the type of place you’d take your mother on vacation. It’s not even the type of place you’d send your worst enemy on vacation.
Or to be punished.
Or to die.
It’s that bad.
Yet it’s here that I find myself wandering the dark alleys and the damp buildings. It’s here I find myself exploring, dressed in a trench coat and a hat, looking like some vintage human detective.
I’m not.
I’m definitely not.
I’m no hero. I’m no spy. I’m nothing. I’m not here to stop the evil that roams free on Dreagle. I don’t want to get involved in any of that. The only thing I want is to hide in the shadows until I figure out why everyone is so damn interested in this ship.
All I want is to be alone.
My ship is hidden in a warehouse I rented with cash. On Dreagle, money talks and people know better than to ask too many questions. As much as I hate the place, I do like that people leave me alone when I flash a growl.
Everyone is so busy committing their own sins they ignore the rest of us.
“Hey asshole,” I hear a voice and I stop walking and turn toward the sound. It’s a man, I presume, judging from the thickness of his voice. He’s standing in the shadows, like me. He’s dressed in clothes that disguise his appearance, like me.
After a quick once-over, I decide he’s not worth my time. I ignore him and keep walking. I have better places to be than talking to a loser in a back alley on a planet I hate.
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” the man says again, and I hear his footsteps close behind me. I take a deep breath and count.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then I whirl around, pulling my blade as I do, and hold it to his throat.
“Hey, hey, come on now!” The man gasps, but holds perfectly still. His hands are up and his breathing is hard, fast. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say I caught him unprepared. He was expecting me to be a jerk, but he wasn’t expecting me to be armed. He wasn’t expecting me to be aggressive.
Unfortunately for him, I’m tired of Dreagle. My exhaustion has made me antsy and uncomfortable. I’ve been here nearly a month and I know it’s only a matter of time before I have to run again. It’s only a matter of time before the Sapphiran police force finds me and hauls me back to the Hidden Planet.
I should be more careful when it comes to my behavior. I shouldn’t do things that will make people remember me, shouldn’t do things that will make me stand out.
“What do you want?” I ask through gritted teeth. My blue skin already sets me apart on Dreagle. It’s easy for people to immediately know which planet I’m from. I have no interest in drawing further attention to myself. Not a lot of Sapphirans come to Dreagle. The ones who do are obviously up to no good.
“I…I…” He’s shaking. This guy is physically shaking as he looks at me. He can obviously feel the cold steel of my blade against his skin, obviously knows he can’t move at all or his life will be over.
“Spit it the fuck out before I slit your throat,” I threaten, just in case he thinks I’ve got all day. I don’t.
“There’s an auction,” the man says. Now that we’re close, it’s easy to see how small he is. I can tell he wears the clothes he does to make himself look bigger, broader. The broad rim of his hat casts a shadow over his face, but now that I’m only a few inches from him, I can see his thin, hollow cheekbones.
“Why the fuck would I care about an auction?” I ask, but I don’t leave. I should leave. I should put my knife away and keep going back to my warehouse, back to my ship. There’s a reason the authorities are so desperate to get it back and I plan to find out why. There’s something hidden on it. That much is obvious. Whether it’s information or cargo, I’m not sure.
All I know is that since it’s Hedgar LeBlaie’s ship, it’s something bad, and I need to find it before the goons he’s paid off find me. If they get to me before I finish searching the ship, or if the police get to me, they’ll return his ship to him
unsearched. Then whatever crimes he’s committed will go unpunished.