The docks are perfectly illuminated. Despite this part of Nyx being on its night cycle, the landing pads are always working. Through the clear viewports of the station, the lights outside in the vacuum are fully on and the workers walking back and forth, loading and unloading cargo from dozens of small craft. Risha’s ship is named The Cat’s Paw after an old story her father used to tell her. She doesn’t remember much about it now, only the sound of his voice as he read it to her. She remembers it was scary.
This Cat’s Paw isn’t so scary to look at, but her skill as a pilot would dispel that notion quickly. Risha prefers not to fight if she can, but it’s not always an option. If she has to shoot, she wants to end it quickly.
“Evenin’,” Dorm says, giving her a wave as she ducks through the loading ramp doors, the circular hatch cycling closed behind her. One of the lead deck hands on Nyx, Dorm is tall and long-boned, like many who grew up in the poor districts that often lacked gravity generators. He has almost always taken care of her needs while the Cat’s Paw was in port and she trusts him more than most. She pays him to be sure of it. Continue reading
Risha lowers the LH-86 pistol, still shaking from her trembling hand. A thin wisp of smoke trails from the barrel, the air smelling of cordite and burnt ozone. Her ears ring from the shot, reverberating off the prefab walls and mixing with the belching of air filter exhaust. The flash of light in the near darkness nearly blinded her but her vision is clearing, letting her see the fallen woman at her feet.
“I’m sorry,” she says aloud, wanting the still form to hear her, to forgive her. But the woman doesn’t stir, her chest rising and falling ever so little and growing less with each moment. Risha steps closer and kneels at her side, touches her cheek, forces herself to look the woman in the eyes. They are wide, in shock and pain, the lips are parted and sticky with foamy blood.
Tears cloud Risha’s vision but she doesn’t clear them. Instead she feels around on her armored chestplate for the coagulant. It’s there, but there isn’t much left. She uses it all on the single wound in the woman’s chest and puts a self-pressurizing seal on it. Reaching down to the woman’s waist, she feels around until a familiar device is found. There, her hand hovers, waiting, not depressing the switch. Instead, she leans down and presses her lips to the woman’s temple, her breathing growing ragged with emotion and distress. Continue reading
Risha, a disgraced UEE Advocacy Agent accused of treason now operates in the shady underbelly of the Empire, running drugs for a vicious crime lord. During a run gone bad, she was forced to dump her cargo. Unable to repay her debts, she once more finds herself the target of the men she once served.
Pursued by both the Advocacy and Bounty Hunters, Risha stumbles upon a UEE secret that could both clear her and damn the Empire.