Starlight Nemesis

Prologue

1.
Yor was a garbage dump of a city, a blight on the otherwise gleaming world of Taurica. Every building, from the sprawling apartment complexes to the once proud skyscrapers, looked as though they had been assaulted in some long ago battle and never repaired. Windows were cracked, roads were pitted with holes, and trash of all kinds littered the streets. If not for the seething mass of people, one would assume that Yor was abandoned.
Rain came down in heavy sheets, and only a handful of people on the sidewalks seemed to notice. Most continued to slowly amble along, or simply sit in the squalor around them, drinking and talking.
Captain Nathan Reynolds curled his lip in disgust as he descended further into the city. The rain somehow made him feel even grimier, and despite being inside his car, he was certain he could smell the hot sweat and garbage around him.
After an interminable amount of time, the gps in his car alerted him that he had arrived at his destination. He slowed down and squinted out into the rain soaked darkness, attempting to confirm this. Neon blues and pinks from billboards shone off of what lay ahead of him, and he pulled off to the closest curb and parked.
As he got out of the car, he quickly covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief, then surveyed the scene. Ahead of him, illuminated only by the massive signs in the sky above, was a fleet of personal spaceships. Each one had a unique look, some much older than others, and several appeared completely grounded.
Reynolds put his hand on the F pistol at his side as he recognized two different gang symbols emblazoned on the side of ships. No one seemed to be around, and it was unlikely that they would give Reynolds a second look anyway, but he lived by being better safe than sorry.
At long last, he saw what he had been sent to find. A ship, in fair condition, oval shaped and colored a sleek gray and dark blue color. Like most ships of its type, it reminded Reynolds of an enormous fish, the embedded viewport on its front resembling a wide, half open mouth. There were two fins on either side, and a large elongated fin running across the top. Just above both of the side fins were twin cannons, clearly attached much later in the ship’s life. Emblazoned on the side was the name “St. Rita”. The patron saint of lost causes, or so he had read in his report.
He approached the opening on the underside of the ship, spotted the camera that was embedded, then waved.
“I’m Captain Nathan Reynolds.” he called. “I’m here to speak with you about a job.” There was nothing but the sound of rain hitting the chromium metal of the ships around him and the far off voices of Yor’s denizens at first. He sighed in annoyance, cleared his throat, and was going to repeat himself when the distinct sound of depressurization filled the air. A rectangular opening appeared on the underside of the ship, and a small ladder was lowered down to the ground. Reynolds climbed up at once, shaking the water from his hair and suit as best he could.
He was greeted by a surprisingly warm and cozy interior. It was about the size of a single bedroom apartment, and had a small kitchen area in one corner, and a small bedroom area in another. There were two doors on either side of him, which he guessed led to a bathroom and then the control room and engine room or something similar.
A woman stood in the kitchen area, chopping mangos with a large knife. She was tall, about 6’4” by his estimation, and in excellent shape. She had shoulder length hair that was a light green color, and was wearing a simple pink tank top and matching sweatpants. She had a very prominent nose and cheekbones that could have cut the fruit just as well as the knife she was using. She turned to look at him, brown eyes flashing underneath thick, black eyebrows.
“You’re here to offer me a job?” she asked, her voice more feminine than he had expected, but her speech pattern was clipped, almost military-like. He nodded and took a step forward.
“Yes.” he said. “I’m here on behalf of Lord Julian Way and the Taurican Imperium.” The woman gave no reaction to this, and instead went back to cutting fruit.
“I figured.” she said. “Your suit, and the way you carry yourself. Yeah. You marine?” Reynolds shook his head once.
“Star Force pilot,” he said. She simply nodded, but said nothing else. He cleared his throat, then continued to give her the message he had been sent to deliver. “Two weeks ago, a military research facility was attacked, and several sensitive items were stolen. The investigation that followed revealed that the attackers were likely a band of pirates, working for a local pirate lord. They were located, and a highly trained team was sent to retrieve the stolen items and bring the pirates to justice.” Reynolds paused, emotion briefly overtaking his professionalism. “The team did not return. A few days ago, Command received this.” He pulled out a hard copy of a photograph. The woman took her time putting the knife in the sink and washing her hands before she approached him and took the photo. She seemed to have no reaction to it, and Reynolds contained his bafflement.
“Was it signed?” she asked. Reynolds blinked.
“The photograph?” he asked. She nodded, then sauntered over to the kitchen counter, and picked up a slice of mango. “The message was clear.” She popped the slice into her mouth and chewed.
“No,” she said. “What was clear was that your team is dead. But if you lost contact and they never returned, that would’ve been enough. They didn’t need to send you a picture of their severed heads.” Reynolds winced. “They did it to gloat. Usually, if they’re gloating, they’ll send a message, or at least sign it.”
“There was no other communication,” Reynolds stated. The woman looked him up and down, then grabbed another slice of fruit and ate it.
“Why the fuck are you leaving out so much information?” she asked. Reynolds was briefly taken aback by the coarse language.
“I am delivering the message as it was-” before he could finish she waved her hand dismissively and walked away to grab a paper bowl.
“What’s the job?” she asked with a heavy sigh.
“Command, by order of Lord Julian Way, requests that you retrieve the stolen items and take care of the pirates and their leaders,” he said.
“How much?” she asked, dumping the remaining fruit in the bowl.
“A substantial, but fair, amount of sixteen thousand Imperial Credits,” he said. He had been told specifically to start at sixteen, then offer up to thirty if she refused. He felt confident that she would refuse at first, as sixteen was not substantial or fair for the job being offered.
“No,” she stated plainly. A grin tugged at his lips.
“Command can offer you-” he began, but she cut him off.
“Thirty-one is the lowest I’ll go,” she said, putting the bowl in the fridge next to her. Reynolds blinked again, and was unsure what to do next. Eventually, a wry grin crossed the woman’s face.
“Command never changes,” she said. “Always start at sixteen, then go up to thirty. For fuck’s sake.”
“It is protocol for dealings with bounty hunters,” he said, deflating slightly. “Which, you would know, of course.”
“Of course,” she said. “Now tell me the rest. Pretend I accepted the thirty, and tell me where these pirates are holed up and what I’m taking back from them.”
“Apologies,” Reynolds said, “but I don’t have clearance to do that. I was just meant to offer you the job, then money, and take you back to Command.” The bounty hunter gave him a curious look, one thick eyebrow raised.
“That’s weird,” she said, then shrugged. “The answer is no, regardless.” Reynolds was once again left feeling as if he had been pushed off of his track.
“No?” he asked. “You won’t do the job?”
“No,” she repeated, then moved over to him in long, confident strides that caused him to walk back. “And I’ll tell you why. Because I hate your fucking Taurican Empire, your Lord Julian Way, your Command, and you. I do jobs for anyone that can pay my rate, except the fucking Imperium. You could give me a billion credits and I’d still tell you to fuck off.” Somewhat stunned, Reynolds shook his head.
“But-” he started, but the sound of the floor opening behind him stopped him.
“But nothing, get off of my ship,” she said, then turned away. He had not been given orders for this possibility. His superiors had been certain that she would just take the money, and at the time, so had he. She was a bounty hunter, after all. As the ladder fell down behind him, he knew he had to do something drastic. He could not go back to Command having failed.
“The pirate lord is Armitage Brine,” he said, defying his orders. He had the information, but he had not been cleared to give it out to anyone, including the bounty hunter. But, he knew it might be enough to convince her. She stopped moving, then turned back to him, her eyes blazing.
“Brine?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Armitage Brine, dead, for thirty thousand Imperial Credits.” She looked at him for a long while, her gaze piercing through him.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go to Command.”

2.
Kate Kobiyashi’s eyes went wide and she held in a gasp as she walked into the meeting room. Space pirates, smugglers, and outlaws of all types were crowded together, many sitting at the tables scattered around, but some standing with their backs against the walls, and all of them warily eyeing everyone else in the room. It was a somewhat cramped space, the walls and floors both made of durable metal, but old and scuffed, with no decorations of any kind. The only source of light came from three overhead fixtures that buzzed loudly, even with the noise of all the people.
Over a hundred pairs of eyes turned to Kate as she entered, but only briefly, and she was thankful for that at least. She wasn’t the one everyone wanted to see, she was just another of the hundreds convinced or coerced to come to the literal edge of the galaxy.
She moved past a few pirates, and found a spot against a wall and close to the door. She ran a hand through her wild mop of red hair, then crossed her arms to stop them from shaking. Vainly, she tried to convince herself that all she was feeling was nervous energy. Nearly everyone in the room was on edge, and for good reason. Kate could plainly see three different rival pirate groups, staring daggers at one another. There were two smugglers that Kate recognized, whispering to one another, and nodding not at all inconspicuously at a mercenary only a few feet from them, whom Kate was sure had killed the smugglers’ father only three years before. In addition to the personal rivalries and vendettas in the room, there were also various alien species that had long standing racial tensions with each other, as well as humans.
“Welcome to Thule,” said a voice that cut through the air like a jagged knife. All eyes, including Kate’s, turned to the door to see the person they had been waiting on. “I hope you’re all as comfortable as can be expected here.”
Armitage Brine smiled wide, a sinister act with a mouth full of razor sharp fangs. Kate had never seen the famed pirate lord up close, and she was immediately impressed. He was an Icthyoid, and as such taller than most humans. His skin was a light teal color, scars decorating both his arms like tattoos. Fins were visible on both of his arms, and his webbed fingers ended in pointed claws. Brine’s head was the least humanoid part of him, as it was vaguely v-shaped, with rough ridges leading down to his large yellow eyes. He wore a very simple outfit; tight armored pants and a black leather vest.
He sauntered through the crowd towards the center of the room, the outlaws parting for him with obvious unease. He stood, large eyes scanning the room with pleasure, but said nothing else.
“What the hell are we doing here, Brine?” barked an old pirate at a table. The sudden question nearly made Kate jump. She pulled her arms tighter against her chest. Brine smiled even wider as he looked at the old pirate.
“You know what you’re doing here,” Brine said, then he waved his long arms around, motioning to everyone in the room. “I sent you all a message to come here, meet with me and my crew, and together we’ll wipe away the Taurican Imperium.” Kate remembered the message. It had been very convincing, and had come with a picture of murdered elite Taurican soldiers. The message, however, had not elaborated on anything else. Kate, and everyone else in the room, were just desperate and curious enough to have answered the call without any further information.
“How?” asked a smuggler.
“My crew and I stole some things,” he began, “They are pieces to a superweapon that the Imperium was planning to use to start another war.” He paused, and there was a deep silence in the room that only the buzzing lights broke. “My crew was decimated during the theft, and if I’m going to use this superweapon for all of us, I’ll need all of your help.” It was all starting to make sense to Kate. Brine was a legendary pirate, but he was no tech genius. A lot of the people in the room were, however, in some form or fashion. She herself was an engineer, and had built single-flier spacecraft and simple androids alone in the past. Add to the fact that she, and everyone else, was on the wrong side of the Imperium, and Kate could vaguely see what Brine had planned.
A young man sitting at a table was the first to speak.
“Fuck off,” he said, causing a few people next to him to slowly back away. He took no notice of this. “You’re about to have the entire Imperium coming at you, and you just want us to be your meat shields while you figure a way out. Everybody’s scared of you, because they’re a bunch of idiots. I’m not, and I’m not helping you with some bullshit attack plan against the biggest empire in the known universe.” There was another beat of silence and Kate realized she was holding her breath, before Brine reared back and let out a deep, guttural laugh. Everyone seemed to relax a bit, and Brine walked over to the young man, who hardly seemed amused.
“I have to deal with people who walk on eggshells around me all the time,” Brine said, still chuckling a bit. “But not you, eh? You’ll tell it like it is.” The young man grinned a bit at that.
“I’m glad you can respect that,” he said. Brine nodded, then theatrically motioned around the room.
“This here is a man without fear!” he announced, then turned back to the young man. “You know what they say about fear, don’t you?”
“What’s that?” he asked, and as soon as the words left his mouth, Brine viciously jammed two of his clawed fingers into the man’s neck. Kate did jump at this, but remained silent, and watched as Brine pulled the now skewered young man close.
“Fear is what keeps us alive,” he growled, then released him, his body convulsing horribly on the floor, blood spurting from the large holes in his neck.
“Is everyone else willing to at least hear the plan?” he asked, wiping the blood from his fingers on his pants. There were several nods, but most returned his question with just more silence. Brine seemed satisfied with that. “Good. Then let’s get to it.”