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So small and defenseless, she curled herself into a ball as if to protect herself. My sivot had shifted restlessly, but it was both of us who wanted to stay with her, to offer her comfort, but I couldn't let myself do it. I vowed long ago never to let anyone else get too close. Even the other Star Mavericks, who I call allies, were kept at arm’s length.
But Cora was different. She had an inner strength that came from deep inside. It called to me. It tugged at something I thought was lost forever.
The console beeps, dragging me back to the present and alerting me we were closing in on Yeet. The planet came into view, the surface swirling with acid dust clouds of browns and greens. Through the restlessly shifting clouds, I can barely make out the outline of the planet's surface and its jagged rocks that stretch for miles.
A barren world void of life, scorched by a sun that had long ago turned into a red giant and turned the air toxic.
I guide the ship through the atmosphere, navigating around the worst of the raging storms. The landscape is desolate. The air thick and soupy with fine debris. I land the ship on a flat patch of dirt, the engines kicking up the powdery ground as they slow to a stop.
I scan the area, looking for any sign of my fellow Maverick. Nothing stirs, so I hail Qhix on the comm.
"You on Yeet?" Qhix answers immediately.
"Waiting on you, brother," I reply curtly. "I'm cloaked. Sending you my coordinates now."
"Received," Qhix says. "I'm locked in on to your location. Sit tight, I'll be there shortly."
Qhix ends the call and I settle back in my seat while fighting the urge to check on Cora. If she needs me, she will let me know. I must keep my distance. She's the reason my sivot writhes under my skin.
That is all she is to me,I remind myself.A tool to be used when needed.
It isn't long before I spot Qhix’s ship descending through the soupy atmosphere. The Thrushian Star Chaser glides gracefully toward me despite its bulky hull. Nearly as valuable as my Moktian Galaxy Cruiser, the Thrushian cargo ship is a rare vessel to have acquired. Thrushians are as possessive of their technology as the Moktians.
Fine dust particles cloud the air even more as Qhix’s ship lands on the ground near mine.
The comm pings and Qhix's voice fills the bridge, "I'm driving over in a hauler. Prepare the dock."
Qhix isn't bliking around, already the hatch to his cargo hold is opening. The boxy hauler rolling out on spiked, metal tracks that leave a triangular pattern on the bleak landscape in its wake.
I rush from the bridge, down the narrow corridor and to the hatch in the floor. I throw it open and slide down the ladder's rails to the cargo hold in the belly of my ship.
Reaching the control panel to the cargo hold, I engage the nano barrier—the transparent nanite particles solidify to form a wall that will protect me from Yeet’s toxic atmosphere—and drop the ramp just as Qhix reaches my ship. Alert beacons flash in warning as the ramp drops, allowing Qhix's hauler to drive inside.
The hauler rolls up slowly and stops. Clamps reach up from the floor, locking the hauler in place with a hard thunch. I work the controls, raising the ramp and pressurizing the cargo hold before disengaging the nano barrier.
The transparent wall dissolves and I step inside the cargo hold as the door to the center of the hauler lifts horizontally. Qhix steps out. His cocky smirk hasn't changed since the last time I saw him.
"Well met, Navik," Qhix says, slapping a fist to the center of his chest in the traditional Star Maverick salutation.
I do the same as I close the distance between us. "Well met, Qhix."
His eyes narrow as he looks me over. "Something has changed with you."
"No. Nothing has changed. It's just been a long time since last we saw each other."
"Perhaps." Qhix continues to study me as if I'm an insectid under a magnifier.
I bristle under his intense scrutiny, my sivot surging with unease from the weight of his curious gaze.
"Are we going to stand here eyeballing each other or strip the ship before that Yulineon bliker finds me?" I bark.
Qhix throws his head back and roars with laughter, his mirth echoing off the metal walls of the cargo hold.
"Same old Navik," he sobers and claps me on the shoulder. "Come on old friend, let's salvage what we can off this hunk of junk."
"A Moktian Galaxy Cruiser is hardly junk."
"It is after it's been painted with a Yulineon tracker." Qhix glances around the cargo hold and lifts his arms, questioningly. "So where's this female that's got you eating out of the palm of her hand?"
