The man nodded toward our table. "Mind if I take a seat?"
Rione and I looked at each other in silence a few moments. I started to voice my opinion, but she interrupted, telling me, "Get over here."
I shook my head, curling up the left side of my mouth. "I don't sit with my back to the door. You know that."
We went back to our mutual staring contest, up until the point our buyer glanced at Rione, and then me, all with a furrowed brow. "If this is going to be a problem, I can take my business elsewhere."
I lifted an eyebrow while staring across at Rione. This guy was high-strung in my estimation, and that never worked well in the cargo business, legal or otherwise.
Rione was eager to jump in with both feet, though, muttering, "Fine, I'll move."
She scooted out and joined me on the proper side of the booth. The gentleman eased himself down, then swapped stares with the two of us.
I had to guess he'd already made his decision on who the sane one of us would be, as he turned to face Rione. "I presume the conditions are still acceptable?"
She nodded. "They are."
I hadn't been privy to any of that information, and maybe that was for the best. Before I'd teamed up with Rione, my financials had always been a bit touch-and-go.
"And where is your ship?"
I finally got a word in. "At the space port attached to this facility."
Both of them turned to look at me with frowns, so I decided to lay back for the rest of the discussion.
He focused back on Rione. "I have twelve cargo containers filled with various forms of medical supplies, also at the spaceport. I assume that you'll be able to make the arrival deadline on Ophalia."
"Shouldn't be a problem," she told him, before proving that she was definitely a woman after my own heart. "You have the half-payment as we agreed?"
The seller eased his hand inside his jacket, then looked around the rest of the room with a focused stare. Satisfied, the man pulled out a small black plastic box and discreetly opened the lid, revealing four stacks of golden coins with red rims. Doing the quick math in my head, I estimated the box had to have around forty thousand credits inside. Just after that total entered my head and a smile formed on my lips, he clamped the lid shut and slid the box across the table.
Rione grabbed it, but he hadn't removed his own grip. He narrowed his cold, black eyes. "The penalty for double crossing me will be swift. I expect the cargo to arrive, for it to be on-time, and for it all to be intact."
"Certainly," she assured him in a calm, collected voice. I saw glimpses of her emotion ridges through her black locks. They were tinged red, which meant we needed to finish up this discussion before things turned ugly.
He finally released his grip, and she pulled the box down to the bench between us. The seller pulled out a tablet and pressed a few buttons before snapping a picture of us. I grimaced, not sure what was going on or why.
"I've sent the meetup location information to you and sent your faces to the buyer. He'll send me confirmation," he stated, then slid back out of the booth and hurried out the exit.
Rione sighed, shaking her head as she watched the empty doorway. "I've never had to deal with someone that abrasive before."
"Really?" I lifted an eyebrow. "Most of my dealings with people have been with people just like him, if not worse."
"Maybe you were just dealing with a lot of scumwads?"
I chuckled, before she handed over the case and I tucked it away for safekeeping.
"At least he had half the money upfront," I offered. That beat out the vast majority of sellers from my own experience.
"I make it mandatory for any job I take. Always have," she told me. I smiled, even as she slid out of the booth. Again, it was good she was setting up our jobs. "Now, we should get out there and load everything up for departure."
I nodded. The sooner we were off this rock, the sooner we'd get the rest of our money. And money was what we needed, if we were going to keep the ship flying.
The waitress had started back over, then saw us leaving. With a frown, she turned and stormed off toward another table who actually had menus in their hands. Rione and I stepped back out into the main corridor and headed back toward the spaceport, the only sounds coming from our steps on the floor.
As we neared the main foyer once more, Jeanie's familiar voice emanated from the speaker in my jacket sleeve. "Aston, several cargo containers have been moved into position beside the ship."
So far, so good, I figured. I lifted my sleeve to my mouth. "Go ahead and load them all. Start prepping a route for Ophalia. We'll be right there."
"Acknowledged."
We stepped toward the doors to the landing pad, which opened a moment before something clanged, echoing around us. I peered out at our ship, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Six containers were all lined up neatly underneath the ship. A yard technician was driving his tracked vehicle toward the ship, dragging along three more containers behind it as columns of smoke bellowed out of its vertical exhaust shafts. Another vehicle with huge wheels grabbed the first container with some sort of claw-like attachment on its front. Then, the second yard technician moved rapidly from the container drop-off point over to the first of the twelve bay loading platforms that were resting on the ground. Dropping it off, he went back for the next container while the lift pad began a quick trip up into its respective cargo bay. The tracked vehicle dropped off its load, and sped off toward its final load beyond my line of sight.
"Think it could have been the cargo containers?" Rione asked.
"Maybe," I said with a grimace, "but I haven't heard it again since we opened the doors."
Yet again, I found myself debating the rationale behind leaving our weapons on the ship. Since that couldn't be helped this time, I decided discretion was the better choice. "Let's get back to the ship."
Before we had a chance to make a move, a woman's scream filled the foyer. Rione turned and looked down the corridor opposite the one that we'd used earlier. I knew what she was going to do, and wanted to object since we had no weapons and didn't know what we were getting into. Unfortunately, I didn't have the chance before she sprinted off, leaving me no choice but to follow.
I wasn't sure if the corridor we ran through was being built, or in extreme disrepair, but half of the lights were out overhead. Several panels were removed along the walls, and resting next to their openings. My infamous gut was screaming at me that we needed our weapons for heading into the unknown like this. Rione apparently didn't have those same qualms, as she kept up her sprinter's pace until she came to a stop near an open doorway.
I finally caught up to her, while I huffed and puffed from the exertion, and peered inside into near darkness. The only light came from the corridor, which barely gave enough to see some sort of huddled figure on the floor.
"We have to help her."
Rione stepped toward the doorway, but I grabbed her arm. "Something doesn't feel right about this." That was an understatement, as far as my gut was concerned.
"Stay here if you want, but she needs help." She broke free and continued into the room. Cursing under my breath, I had to follow, what with strength in numbers and all.
I followed, keeping an eye on Rione, but also trying to look off into the darkness for any sign of trouble. If I saw a piece of dust floating in the air wrong, I planned to grab Rione and race out of here. She reached the huddled mass on the ground, kneeling down beside her.
"Are you okay?" She gently pushed the figure to no avail. I saw a small pool of blood below the woman's head as Rione pressed fingers against the woman's throat. She bowed her head. "She's dead."
I looked at the pool of blood again, and my gut instinct screamed. My eyes went wide and I grabbed Rione's arm. "It's a trap!"
"Right you are..." A familiar voice carried in from elsewhere in the room. My skin crawled.
"Elijah?" I turned my head this way and that, trying to catch a glimpse of my nemesis. Then he stepped out of the corner shadows between us and the doorway, a disintegrator cannon in his hands.
"No..." I muttered beneath my breath.
The minimal light from the main corridor illuminated him like an angel, which I knew for certain he wasn't. He hadn't changed in appearance at all, wearing that same baggy white shirt buttoned halfway up his chest which did little to hide his muscular chest. Bristly blonde stubble adorned the top of his head. His face was hard and unmoving, as if chiseled in stone. A pair of tan pants and dark brown boots made him look like an extra in an old medieval holo-movie. They didn't use disintegrator cannons in those, though.
"It's been too long," he muttered.
Rione was understandably confused. "Aston?" She hadn't known Elijah Cassus, and given my choice, I would have kept it that way. Apparently, fate had other plans.
I kept my focus on Elijah. "So, it's come down to this. Gunning me down in cold blood on some random planet?"
He snorted, leveling the barrel at my chest. "Cold blood would insinuate you're innocent, which you aren't."
"Aston?" Rione repeated, this time more forceful.
Elijah interrupted, "He killed my brother."
Rione knew the background, but now reality was hitting her right in the face. She turned to face Elijah, but didn't say a word.
I insisted, "Do with me what you will, but leave her out of this. She has nothing to do with our past."
He laughed. "Despite what you might think, Aston, I'm not here to kill you."
"Funny, those were the last words you said to me. 'Hunt me down' or something to that effect."
"Time has a way of changing things, Aston. Besides, I have a little surprise for you."
I wasn't sure I wanted to find out what sort of surprise he had in store, but if it meant I'd survive this, I couldn't complain. "And that is?"
"Aston..." Warm breath eased past my ear. I hadn't heard that voice in forever, but there was no mistaking it.
Chills raced up and down my spine as I muttered, "It can't be. You're dead."
I turned on my heels and saw Lars Cassus standing right in front of me, living and breathing, and carrying a disintegrator cannon of his own. I stumbled back, trying to scramble away from the man I'd killed. The corner of his mouth curled up. "I'm back."