“Life is one journey in which we hope never to reach the inevitable destination.”
- Hadrian proverb
“Put up, damn it! Put those things away,” Tiberius yelled. “Gripper, get down from there!”
Hesitantly, Xia lowered the pair of small laser pistols a couple of inches and Duaal resheathed his cheap costume sword. Gripper was still clinging to the ceiling, eyes squeezed closed and quivering with terror. In his fear, the Arboran had dug his claws deep into the Blue Phoenix’s fibersteel bulkheads. Tiberius sighed. It was going to take hours to plane out the deep gouges.
“What’s he doing here? What’s going on?” Gripper squeaked. “Is it over yet?”
The target of the crew’s hostility was still standing in the airlock. Logan Coldhand seemed unfazed by the frightened, violent greeting. He stood beside Maeve. A young Dailon woman sobbed between them.
“Princess, get that girl away from Coldhand,” Tiberius growled, pointing a thick, calloused finger at Coldhand.
The hunter narrowed his eyes. Maeve took the blue-skinned girl by the arm and led her away from the bounty hunter.
One problem at a time. His first mate had brought several of them, as usual. There was a heavy thump as Gripper dropped to the floor. Gripper sidled nervously over to Maeve, hunkering behind her for protection. In less volatile a situation, Tiberius would have laughed uproariously to see the huge Arboran trying to hide behind a fairy less than a quarter his size. Gripper awkwardly patted the weepy Dailon on the shoulder.
“It’s okay. You’re safe now,” Gripper said, looking at Tiberius. “She is, right? We’re not going to let Freezer get her, are we?”
“I’m not after the girl,” Coldhand said.
“Then why are you…?” Gripper tried to ask.
Tiberius waved him into silence. He didn’t want to know the answer. Prians were not known for tact or grace, and Coldhand was worse than most. Prianus was hundreds of light years from the nearest Alliance outpost. Little trade and no military presence made Prianus a poor, unimportant and unprotected world. As a result, few Prians managed to journey off world those who did were generally considered backwater dregs with little education and less class. Only the rimworlders were less welcome in the civilized parts of the galaxy.
Coldhand wasn’t doing much to correct that unfortunate view, Tiberius reflected sourly as he took in the younger Prian’s appearance. No shirt, the waist of his pants torn open and blood drying on his bare stomach, streaked with something black and sticky. Tiberius smelled the heavy, oversweet scent of Vanora White. Tiberius had been a cop on Prianus too long and arrested too many drug dealers to mistake that smell.
I changed my mind. I want to know, damn it!
“What are you doing here?” Tiberius asked in frustration.
Coldhand raised a blond eyebrow. “Cavainna might use Kessa as cover to get back off of Axis. I’m here to make sure that she doesn’t,” he replied. “When I leave, Cavainna’s coming with me.”
“That’s not what I’m asking,” Tiberius said. “What are you even doing on Axis? You shouldn’t be here for another day, at least!”
