Somewhere in Space...
"What is this place, Hunter?" I ask, taking off my helmet. My ears pop as the pressure changes, but at least this air is breathable, unlike some of the other citadels we've been to. My eyes scan the room, some kind of tavern, as I take in the various people, most in simple robes and scarves.
Hunter glances over his shoulder at me, brown hair falling over his shoulder as he does so. He holds out a hand, still in its driving gloves, as if to stop me from saying more. "Just go with it, Janika."
"Cymon," greets a figure with a wide neck, showing off their gills. Their head is topped with frilly fins that fall across their face like hair, and a breathing tube winds up their back and into their mask, which muffles their voice. They clap a hand on Hunter's shoulder, and my hand twitches at my belt.
Hunter removes his wide-brimmed hat and places it against his chest, bowing in return. I widen my stance and take note of the people surrounding us, just in case. The only visible weapons are a harpoon across a small woman's back and the three poorly-concealed throwing knives on the one-eyed man in the corner behind me.
If worse comes to worse, I think I could have that harpoon in my hands in five seconds flat. And then goodbye fish friend.
Hunter tilts his head back at me. "Tumek, this is my driver." I'm moderately insulted that he's called me a driver, but I nod solemnly and follow the two of them towards the round structure of the bar.
Tumek lets out a laugh that sounds like ba-ba-ba-ba as it comes through their breathing mask. "Driver, yes. You didn't come through the cargo bay this time?"
Hunter leans against the bar and flags the bartender with a raised finger, smirking. "It's official this time, Tumek. You know what I want."
I place two fingers on my helmet, still tucked underneath one arm. It helps me stay still as I read Tumek's body language for signs of non-cooperation. They shift one shoulder up, then down, their robe swishing.
Hunter has acquired a thick, greyish drink, and pushes a stone to the bartender in return. She tucks it under her long, pink tongue and turns to the next customer.
"I thought we had an agreement," Tumek says without malice. They're watching Hunter swirl the drink in its cup.
"Things have changed slightly," Hunter replies evenly, green eyes on his drink. My gaze catches on a woman entering the room, pushing the thick red curtains aside. Her boots have the signature six-pointed star spurs, and her thick hair is braided back into an intricate loop down her back. She's wearing the maroon robes of the Poachers, tied with a silver sash.
We've got to get out of here.
A flame lights to my right: the bartender breathing it into a drink as onlookers gasp in delight, and energy coalesces at my fingertips, ready for release, but the distraction worked, because the Poacher woman is already holding Hunter's hand, two welts on his wrist from where she's injected him.
Tumek looks at me over Hunter's sagging body, and smiles. "You will both be coming with us. Things have changed slightly." As Hunter's body falls limp, his drink tips and oozes out of its cup and across the counter.
The Poacher holds up two fingers in the air in front of me, a warning, so I let the energy I'd built up go, knowing I can't fight yet. Not with Hunter passed out.
"Then take me," I tell them, voice clear, even as my insides are coiled. The Poacher lowers her hand and nods reverently, and Tumek laughs again. Ba-ba-ba-ba.
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