Chapter 1
1017 A. N., Planet Kolben, at the far edge of the Gliese Solar System.
* * *
Furcifer “Cifer” Msuya had made many poor decisions in his life, but accepting the retrieval job from the Hiargus royal family might be his last.
If he had known what a clusterfuck the job would be, he’d have doubled his exorbitant quote. Across the snow-dusted launch deck, he tracked the path of Jarn, the man who’d promised that his captain would get Cifer off this ass-sucking iceberg of a planet. He’d already been stuck there far longer than he’d anticipated. It had been much easier to sneak onto the planet than to escape.
The tips of his fingers burned with pain, and he blew on them to warm them before checking on the package—the reason he’d come to Kolben. He didn’t dare touch it again—he’d already been warned. It was bad enough having it tucked into a pouch against his body.
Jarn carried a large metal box and disappeared behind an enormous transport ship before reappearing—arms empty—running full tilt toward the low administration buildings in the distance. Where was he going? Jarn had said to meet him. His captain would take Cifer wherever he wished to go. Cifer had paid the guy up front.
Barking dogs sprinted from the transport ship, followed by a huge bald man. They raced behind the vehicle that Jarn had come from. Cifer remained hidden in the depression at the edge of the launch deck, waiting to see what new catastrophe sparked.
The dogs and the big bald man reappeared. He carried the metallic case Jarn had left behind. The dogs halted in a pack, but the man kept running. He froze at the edge of the far field. With an athletic twist, he hurled the case, which exploded midair.
Cifer dropped down flat into the gully, no longer feeling the cold. His heart raced. Alarms screamed. He lifted his head. Vehicles raced to the blackened spot and across the platform in the opposite direction. A spaceship went hot, engines flaring. The other ship on the deck, the one on which Jarn had promised Cifer passage, lifted from the ground and disappeared into the sky.
What the fuck!
No.
That did not happen.
Not only was he out of credits in the one account he could access, but the mining company would be on high alert. They would have no problem detaining him for his probably very short life if it came to that. His other account would cover any emergencies for the orphanage, but not for long. Heavy dread weighed him deeper into the snow-filled gully.
Vehicles came and went. Several crew members had emerged from the large transport ship. The bald man and the dogs had been taken away. Jarn had been found and carted off in a different direction during the chaos. After what seemed like hours of lying in the snowbank, Cifer had to move. The risk of dying competed with the risk of being caught.
He slowly stood and gradually moved around the launch deck, finally reaching the far side of a huge hauler. His shifting shadow increased the risk of being noticed despite his camouflage. But a moment later, he blended into the gray surface of the ship. The Treasure.
How fitting a ship name for a thief to use for their getaway.
The front of the vehicle was the typical rounded bridge with space-proof viewing portals. Smaller portals ran equidistance down the side of the top edge. Must be the quarters, but that was an expensive feature. Someone had invested heavily in this transporter. The lower part of the ship and the back third were solid and larger than the bridge and quarters combined. There would be plenty of places to hide once he was onboard.
A ship this big could easily have a crew of fifty, but he’d only counted five—six with the bald man. Inside, there could be additional staff or, worse, more dogs.
The wide, unguarded loading bay invited him in, but “easy” often led to “caught.” He inched nearer to his only chance for escape. Silence. He glanced at the empty sky. The urge to hunt Jarn’s captain, who’d literally dropped a bomb and run off with Cifer’s credits—but without Cifer himself—heated his blood. There would be retribution, but only once the time came. No need to rush. The first step on the gangplank made his skin tingle. Slow, deep breaths. No one could see him.
Once inside the utilitarian loading space, he noted two options: an elevator, and a ladder positioned at opposite ends of the cavernous room. Cifer crept toward the ladder, his movements as slow as he could make them, considering the urgency of his mission.
The ship remained quiet, and it was noticeably warmer. That factor was enough to get him moving, inside and farther back, away from the bridge. In his experience, shipboard inhabitants tended to congregate in the activity centers, like galleys, bridges, and common rooms—places he would avoid.
Stowaways were dealt with in a variety of manners, none of which encouraged the practice.
He really was getting too old for life-or-death escapes. A quick pat of the sack slung under his cloak assured him that he was still in possession of the orb.
Yip!
Shit. The dogs. Cipher froze, in plain view of the opening to the large port-less part of the ship.
A high-pitched, needy whine came from a single pup in a large crate, wriggling around, dancing back and forth and lifting up onto…her back legs, begging for attention. If he didn’t quiet the puppy, she’d expose him.
“Good girl,” he whispered. Nothing else moved. There was a storage locker in front of the crate. Cifer lifted the lid, and the puppy bounced, chirping excitedly. Cifer retrieved a meat stick, and the pup immediately sat, eyes focused on him despite his camouflage. Anyone glancing in would see a treat floating in the air. Cifer brought his finger to his lips and slipped the treat through the holes of the wire mesh. The pup licked his fingers before taking the meat gently between her needle teeth and retreating to the back of the crate.
Cifer didn’t waste time moving deeper into the ship, away from the cute, but potentially effective, alarm system. He sidled past larger locked cells and a few stout crates. A sizable room on his left held plants growing out of sacks. He backed away, deeper into the far areas of the ship, and found the engine room. Tubes and large mechanical equipment filled the room from edge to edge. Perfect. Despite the bright overhead lighting, infinite nooks and crannies would provide concealment and—once the engines fired up—warm his frozen body. He’d like to be reintroduced to his balls.
Voices floated back to the silent space where Cifer had curled up in who knew how long ago. There were sounds of machinery, men’s voices, and the thunk of crates on a metal floor. He pressed himself into the shadows and prayed for luck. His large body couldn’t lose mass, but he could shape it to fit where he needed.
