Smuggler's Game

Episode 3: The Smuggler's Game

The Solar Destiny emerged from lightfold space, the vast expanse of a nebula swirling with vibrant colors outside the ship’s viewport. Elendril stood at the helm, his sharp eyes scanning the nav display. “Lyzara’s coordinates match,” he said, turning to Nira. “This is it.”

“Doesn’t mean we’re welcome,” Nira replied, her tone dry. She crossed her arms, leaning against the console. “Lyzara isn’t exactly known for her hospitality.”

“Or her trustworthiness,” Bolen muttered from his station, his voice laced with skepticism.

“We don’t have a choice,” Elendril said firmly. “If this artifact’s counterpart is as important as Awan says, we’ll need Lyzara’s resources to get to it.”

The crew fell silent as Coren piloted the ship toward a darkened asteroid base nestled within the nebula’s swirling gas. The structure jutted out from the rock like the skeletal remains of a long-forgotten beast, its lights dim but functional. Several smaller ships hovered nearby, their ominous shapes visible only when the nebula’s light caught their hulls.

“Lovely place,” Coren said, his voice tinged with sarcasm as he adjusted the ship’s trajectory. “Exactly the kind of spot I imagined for a smuggler’s den.”

“Stay sharp,” Elendril said, his golden eyes narrowing. “Everyone’s looking for an edge here. Let’s not make ourselves easy targets.”

---

The Solar Destiny docked smoothly, its engines humming softly as the airlock hissed open. The crew stepped out into the dimly lit hangar, the smell of oil and ozone filling the air. Figures moved in the shadows, their faces obscured by hoods or helmets.

A tall woman stepped forward, her lavender skin glowing faintly in the dim light. Long, mahogany hair cascaded down her back, the deep richness of its color offset by her exotic, gold-edged makeup. She wore a sleek white pantsuit tailored to perfection, accentuated by delicate gold jewelry that glinted with every movement. Her violet eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and calculation.

“Elendril,” she said, her voice smooth but edged with mockery. “I’ll admit, I’m surprised you came in person. Trusting me already?”

“Not yet,” Elendril replied evenly. “But I’m hoping to change that.”

Lyzara’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Bold. I like that. Let’s talk business.” She gestured for them to follow, leading the crew into a sprawling chamber filled with mismatched furniture, flickering lights, and walls lined with crates and weapons.

“I hear you’ve been looking for something rare,” Lyzara said, lounging on a threadbare couch. “Artifacts of this nature don’t come cheap. But lucky for you, I’m feeling generous.”

“Generosity isn’t your style,” Nira said, her voice sharp. “What’s the catch?”

Lyzara laughed softly. “Smart as ever, Nira. The catch is simple: I need something in return.” Her eyes glittered as she leaned forward. “There’s an Itherian operative in my midst, disguised as one of my own. Find them, and the artifact’s yours.”

Elendril’s jaw tightened. “And if we refuse?”

“Then you leave empty-handed,” Lyzara said, her tone suddenly cold. “And I let the Itherians know who’s been poking around their business."

The room fell silent, the weight of her words pressing heavily on the crew. Finally, Elendril nodded. “We’ll find your spy.”

---

The crew spread out through the base, each member blending into the chaotic bustle of smugglers, traders, and mercenaries. After a quick huddle in a quiet corner, they devised a plan to flush out the spy.

“We start a rumor,” Nira suggested, her voice low and urgent. “Spread word that there’s evidence of the spy’s identity—and that it’s hidden in the maintenance bay. We’ll claim we’re planning to deliver it to Lyzara tomorrow. If they’re desperate to cover their tracks, they’ll try to destroy it.”

Elendril nodded thoughtfully. “Good. Bolen, Nira, you handle the rumor. Arren, Coren, and I will monitor the maintenance bay to see who takes the bait. Stay discreet. We can’t afford to spook them too soon.”

The plan set in motion, Bolen and Nira began quietly seeding the rumor throughout the base. It didn’t take long before whispers spread like wildfire, the tension in the smugglers’ den growing palpable. Arren and Coren positioned themselves near the maintenance bay, keeping watch from the shadows, while Elendril monitored the surrounding area. The hours ticked by, every sound and movement drawing their attention.

Finally, a hooded figure slipped into the bay, their movements hurried and deliberate. They darted toward a stack of crates near the far wall, their hand reaching for a hidden compartment. Arren’s comm buzzed softly. “We’ve got someone,” he whispered.

Elendril signaled the team, and they closed in quietly, surrounding the figure. When they turned, their face was obscured, but a faint Itherian insignia was visible beneath their sleeve. The figure froze, realizing too late they were caught. The crew stepped into the bay, weapons drawn, their formation tight as they confronted the suspect.

“You’ve got something that doesn’t belong here,” Elendril said, his voice calm but firm.

The figure didn’t respond, their hand moving slowly toward their side. Before they could draw a weapon, Nira’s blaster was already trained on them. “Don’t,” she said coolly.

The Itherian spy froze, their gaze darting between the crew. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” they said, their voice laced with venom.

“Neither do you,” Elendril replied, stepping closer. “But we’re about to find out.”

---

As the crew escorted the spy back to Lyzara, the tension in the base grew palpable. Whispers followed their movements, the crowd parting to watch the unfolding drama. Lyzara awaited them in her chamber, her violet eyes gleaming with amusement as the crew presented the spy.

“Efficient as ever,” she said, rising gracefully. “You’ve earned your reward.”

She motioned to a crate, which her guards opened to reveal a small, intricately carved artifact. Its surface shimmered faintly, matching the one Arren carried.

“A pleasure doing business,” Lyzara said, her smile widening. “Do come back when you’re ready for more excitement.”

Elendril didn’t respond, his focus on the artifact as Arren carefully retrieved it. The crew returned to the Solar Destiny, their mission successful but the questions surrounding the artifacts only deepening.

As the ship lifted off, Nira glanced at Elendril. “So what’s the next move, Captain?”

Elendril’s golden eyes flicked to the viewport, the swirling nebula fading into the darkness of space. Before he could speak, a shrill alert echoed across the bridge, pulling the crew’s attention to Nira’s console.

“Captain,” Nira said, her voice tense. “The artifact—it’s emitting a signal. And not just any signal—a tracking beacon.”

Arren froze, the artifact clutched in his hands. “A tracking beacon? That wasn’t there before. How—”

“It must have been activated when we opened the crate,” Nira interrupted. Her sharp gaze darted between the readouts. “And it’s already been picked up. Itherian ships are closing in fast.”

“How fast?” Elendril asked, his tone clipped.

Coren’s voice trembled slightly as he studied the navigation display. “Two ships just dropped out of lightfold nearby. They’ll be on us in minutes.”

“Bolen, get the engines ready,” Elendril ordered. “Coren, plot the quickest escape route. Nira, see if you can dampen the signal. We can’t lead them to the resistance.”

Arren hesitated, his gaze fixed on the artifact as if searching for answers. “It’s not just a tool,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “There’s something about it—something more.”

“Whatever it is,” Elendril snapped, “figure it out later. Right now, we survive.”

The ship jolted as Bolen powered the engines, the Solar Destiny lurching into motion. Elendril gripped the back of Coren’s chair, his voice steady despite the growing chaos. “Let’s make sure they regret finding us.”

As the ship raced through the nebula, the faint hum of the artifact’s signal pulsed ominously, a haunting reminder of the danger that now loomed closer than ever.

- to be continued -