Page 6 of Pact with the Alien Devil

“It’s more than most get.”

She bit her lower lip, thinking. The gesture drew my attention to her mouth, which was surprisingly full for her otherwise angular face. I looked away, irritated with myself for noticing such a detail.

“What kind of jobs?” she asked finally.

“Various deliveries. Information gathering. Nothing beyond your capabilities.”

“Dangerous?”

“Potentially.”

“Illegal?”

I almost laughed. “You’re a smuggler. Does that matter?”

“Depends on the kind of illegal.” She leaned forward. “I don’t run people. I don’t deliver to slavers. And I don’t transport anything that breathes unless they’re paying passengers.”

“Admirable principles for a criminal.”

“Even criminals have lines they don’t cross.”

I studied her, impressed despite myself. “The Fangs don’t deal in slavery. Alkard has... strong views on the practice.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that answer.

“We primarily deal in information, technology, and certain restricted substances,” I continued. “Your duties would involve transporting packages similar to this one,” I gestured to the tech between us, “as well as gathering intelligence from contacts across the station.”

Iria blew out a breath, considering. “One month?”

“One month.”

“And after that, I’m free to go? No strings attached?”

“Provided you fulfill your end of our arrangement, yes.”

She drummed her fingers on the table again. “I want it in writing. A contract.”

“The Vinduthi don’t use written contracts. Our word is our bond.”

“Well, I’m not Vinduthi,” she countered. “And in my experience, promises evaporate when they become inconvenient.”

Clever woman. I reached inside my jacket and withdrew a small data pad. “Terms,” I said, sliding it across the table. “One month of exclusive service to the Fangs, specifically under mycommand. In return, all your debts cleared and safe passage from Thodos Station at the conclusion of your contract.”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise as she took the pad. “You came prepared.”

“I rarely leave matters to chance.”

She scanned the document, her brow furrowing as she read. “What’s this about my ship?”

“TheStarfallremains yours, but during the month of your service, we may need to install certain... modifications.”

“What kind of modifications?” Her tone sharpened.

“Enhanced shielding. Communications scramblers. Nothing that would compromise your vessel’s integrity.”

She looked up, eyes flashing. “My ship stays as is. No modifications without my express approval.”

I admired her protectiveness. Most smugglers felt the same about their vessels. “Fair enough. No changes without your consent.”

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