Page 5 of Phoenix's Last Heist
She flinches, confirming my suspicion that she has some kind of record. That knowledge gives me pause. If she’s a career smuggler or looter, maybe she’ll have information I can use. I’ve long suspected that there are a handful of major buyers trading specifically in Xylothian artifacts, but every time I catch someone, they refuse to talk. The names at the top of the food chain have to be big—and bad. If this new woman can help lead me to them, I can give some names over to the Feds and they’ll have to sit up and take notice. Prosecuting low-level criminals might not be worth their time, but stopping the black market trades at their source could be a career-making move for the right Federal agent. The wheels turn in my mind and I decide to adjust my approach.
“If you want to tell me what you were doing with this—who you were stealing it for and who’s trying to bankroll all thisXylothian looting—maybe I could convince the Feds to go easy on you. Say you were cooperative,” I offer.
Her shoulders slump a little, whether from defeat or the discomfort of being tied up all afternoon, I don’t know. Moving slowly, I lean forward to check her bindings to make sure they aren’t cutting off her circulation. She narrows her eyes, but doesn’t pull away.
“Look,” I say, trying for a sincere tone. “I’m sorry about your head. It’s my job to take care of the Protectorate territory and I take it pretty seriously. I’m a ranger here—name’s Asterth. Orion Asterth.”
I hand her a canteen of water, which she eyes suspiciously. I swallow my annoyance that she presumes I’d slip her something. Ignoring the slight to my honor, I assume this isn’t the first time she’s been captured.
“I didn’t drug your water,” I said, taking a sip myself. “I already have you tied up. And no offense, lady, but even if you broke out of here, you wouldn’t get very far on foot. We’re in the thick of the Xylothian rainforest and I’m the only thing that stands between you and a lot of really hungry nocturnal creatures. And let me tell you, even though we have two suns, nighttime here islong. Can you at least tell me your name?”
She closes her eyes and leans back on the cot, apparently weighing her options. Finally, she sits back up, snatches the canteen from my outstretched hand and chugs. I’m briefly transfixed by the dribble of water that escapes and traces a path down her neck and through her breasts, but I quickly turn away. I ended things with Sylph well over a year ago, but I’m not about to lust after some criminal who sees my entire cultural heritage as ripe for plunder.
The woman is quiet after she finishes drinking, for long enough that I give up expecting answers to any of my hopefulquestions. When I lift the tent flap to head back to the campfire outside, she clears her throat.
“Lyra,” she says. “You don’t get my last name. But for the water—and for patching my head—you can call me Lyra.”
I throw a tentative look back over my shoulder.
“Anything else you want to tell me?” I press.
She meets my gaze with challenge in her eyes.
“Yeah,Orion,” she says, my name falling from her lips like a curse. “When I get loose, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
Fortunately, I leave fast enough to hide my smile.
Hours later,something pulls me from the fog of sleep. I gave Lyra my cot hoping that a decent night’s rest would loosen her tongue some more, but my friendly approach is starting to wear on my nerves. Still, the Solar Mother isn’t justanyrelic and the fact that she’s clearly here for it alone raises a lot of questions. I’m almost certain the information she has is as priceless as the statue she tried to steal.
I open my eyes from my makeshift pallet on the ground and scan the tent, trying to find what woke me up. Lyra is sprawled in my cot, snoring louder than any woman I’ve ever shared a bed with. One of her wrists is still tied to the bed frame, as is one of her ankles, so I know it isn’t the noise of her making a covert escape.
There it is—soft, shuffling steps and harsh whispers filtering in through my tent’s woven walls. Four men, it sounds like. They’re speaking in a language I don’t recognize, which means they aren’t from this system.Not Federation, then.Could Lyra have a crew that came looking for her when she failed to returnto her ship? It seems unlikely. Surely, someone would have gone with her to retrieve the artifact—a lookout, or something.
I consider two equally unpleasant ideas. It could be other looters heading for the temple, but typically looters would avoid a campsite and favor the well-worn trail that cuts straight through the jungle. If itisanother group of looters, not only will I be outnumbered, but I’ll be put in a position of having to protect the woman I arrestedandkeep the Solar Mother safe from all of them. Not ideal for a single ranger miles away from help.
There’s a metallic clatter in the distance. From the sound of it, someone is dismantling my swamp buggy. Keeping one eye on Lyra, I creep to my pack where I keep my plasma rifle. I quietly check the charges and flick the safety off.
The other possibility is that these men somehow tracked Lyra. Given her profession and the angry tones emanating from the group rifling through my camp outside, that seems the most likely. I could give her up, of course, but they’ll probably make off with both Lyra and the idol, and there’s no guarantee they won’t kill me, anyway.
Shit.
One I can handle easily—even two. Three would be a challenge. Four is simply out of the question. I only have a couple charged plasma cartridges, so shooting my way out seems futile. Suddenly, Lyra’s hand latches onto my wrist and I almost yelp. She continues to snore, but gestures to her bound hand and ankle, and then at the weapons I confiscated.
I shake my head.
Her grip on my wrist tightens and she points at the tent door. When I refuse to budge, she beckons me closer. In between her exaggerated snoring, she whispers, “Void Stalkers.”
My blood runs cold. Ruthless, bloodthirsty mercenaries. I’ve only encountered them once in my life, and I still have nightmares about it.
“Are they here for you?” I whisper back.
She nods once.
“How far are we from the city?” she asks.Snore.
“Too far,” I reply. “They’d hunt us down and gut us before we ever got out of the jungle.”
She shakes her tied wrist at me once more. Reluctantly, I cut the rope binding her hand and her ankle. Watching her get filleted and eaten is not something I’m prepared to do tonight.
