Page 3 of Phoenix's Last Heist
I recognize some of the star systems etched into the stone, but many of them are unknown to me. Dad would’ve killed to see this—to trace the missing constellations no one on Earth’s even named.An unwanted flare of loneliness surges, deepening the cracks in my heart that formed long ago. I breathe slowlythrough the ache, and through the blur of gathering tears I see something sparkling in the darkness.
At the center of the opposite wall stands another statue—a Xylothian priestess, I’m guessing—kneeling before a polished golden sun. In her cupped palms, she holds…
“No fucking way,” I murmur, taking a tentative step forward.
The Solar Mother idol. The figurine glitters like gold but is made of a precious metal far rarer—enaurium. Small symbols trail from the top of the idol’s head across her breasts and down her legs. My pulse kicks hard. That’s it—the key to my way out, sitting in a goddess’s hands. I’m eager to get the idol back to my ship so I can copy the writing down and get to work translating it.
My fingers itch to pluck the treasure from the hands of the statue, but I’ve been down this road before and I know better. One wrong move, and the whole chamber could collapse and bury me six feet under alien stone. The first thing I need to do is survey the area—the Chamber of the Early Sun, if my dad’s journals are right—for any traps or ancient security measures. Just because these Xylothians built this monument thousands of years ago doesn’t mean they were primitive or foolish. If this mother goddess is the reason for the creation of this entire temple complex, there are bound to be some boobytraps.
“Ada, do a scan of this chamber with particular attention on any load-bearing columns or walls. I’m looking for traps here. I’d love to grab the goods and get out of here without having my hand chopped off.”
The floor directly around the feet of the main statue is hollow beneath the tiles. Scans indicate stepping on the floor within a three-meter radius of the base will result in the collapse of the ground beneath you. Again.
“Great. Instant death, Xylothian style. Super helpful,” I reply, trying to work out the best way to get to the outstretchedhands and my future payday. To the left of the statue stands a long, low rectangular crypt made from the same pitted black rock as the courtyard outside. “Anything weird about the creepy sarcophagus?”
I do not detect any surface abnormalities.
“Good enough for me,” I say, jumping on top of the moss-slick surface. I slip when I land, going down hard on my knees. With a curse, I wobble back up and gauge the distance from the edge of the crypt to the statue.
Would you like me to calculate the odds of you achieving a successful landing?
“Never tell me the odds,” I grunt, leaping forward and reaching out with both arms. Adrenaline spikes as I consider the amount of noise I’m making and the mystery intruder skulking around nearby. I can’t turn back now, though—not when I’mthisclose.
I slam into the shoulder of the statue and hook my arms around its neck, lowering just enough to reach the shimmering idol. Tentatively, I reach out.
It’s warm to the touch and emits a faint, vibrating hum. That’s unexpected and…slightly alarming. I can’t decide if I’m more worried about something supernatural or something toxic.
“Uh, this thing is safe to handle, right? I mean, it’s not radioactive or anything.”
Radioactivity levels are within the acceptable range for a half-human, half-Velusian hybrid.
“You could just say ‘it’s fine,’ Ada. No need to bring my parents into this,” I say, not bothering to hide my bitterness.
It’s fine.
“Thank you,” I reply sarcastically, pulling the heavy idol from its resting place. I stash it in the open pocket of my thigh holster and climb back up to the head of the statue. Begging the stonepriestess’s forgiveness, I launch myself back over the crypt, landing with another inelegant crash.
The way out of the chamber is relatively easy this time and when I find myself back in the courtyard, I spot an opening in the wall I must’ve missed before. Crouching low, I cross through the crumbling gateway, hoping the intruder has already come and gone.
The air hits me like a wet towel to the face, but I can’t stop the grin that tugs at my lips. My boots sink into moss as I push through the foliage, lungs burning, heart drumming with the echo of the escape. Every nerve feels lit, raw, alive. Just a few miles east along the river and I’ll be back at my ship—almost there, almost done. The thought makes my pulse jump all over again. Then I can stow the cargo, take an actual shower, and finally dig into the secret ration of chocolate my dad smuggled me from his last trip to Earth.
The thought of him catches me off guard—a flicker of warmth that twists before it lands. For a second, the jungle noise dulls, and I swear I can smell the engine grease, dirt, and ozone that always clung to his jacket. My chest tightens, but I shake it off. I can’t afford to drown in ghosts right now. It’s as good a time as any to break out the good stuff and celebrate. Because for once, I actually pulled it off. No alarms, no guards, no blood—well, very little blood. Just me, the relic, and the open sky ahead. Stars, I might even pop open the bottle of fizzy carbonyl I stole off that Jovian Stormrider last year. He swore it’d taste like lightning. Tonight, I’ll find out if freedom does too.
With a bounce in my step, I make for the riverbank, careful to veer away from any poisonous-looking plants. The first sun is setting over the horizon, bathing the jungle in melted golden light and lowering the sweltering temperature to something bordering on bearable. Vibrant birds chirp, fragrant tropical flowers bloom, and the milky teal river burbles over mossy greenrocks. For the first time in months, everything feels like it’s working out in my favor.
“Hey Ada,” I begin, relaxed enough to indulge my curiosity. “You said the Celestial Temple was in the territory of the Xylothian Protectorate. What are they about?”
They are about one and a half meters behind you.
“What the shit?”
I whip around, just in time to catch the butt of a plasma rifle to the temple.
2
orion
The Ancestors Are Not Going to Like This
