9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Faelin

Mouthwatering smells assault my senses as I enter the small bakery where Pakri agreed to meet with me. I don’t particularly like sweets, but even I have to admit that whoever runs this place knows their business well. I choose a piece of Karetelan pie from the menu and take it to the table in the farthest corner where hopefully we’ll have some privacy.

I notice they also have warpberry fritters and make a mental note to bring some back to the ship. Both Tareq and Omni have a serious sweet tooth and these fritters are their favorites. Maybe giving them sweets will make them less angry when they discover I lost the money.

It doesn’t take long for Pakri to show up. His tail twitching is the only indication he’s noticed me. That’s clearly the end of his clandestine skills as he makes an obvious show of selecting his pastry, practically shouting at the store clerk how he’s meeting a friend he hasn’t seen in a long time. To make matters worse, his scales darken, betraying his anxiety, as if his babbling wasn’t enough of a tell.

By the time he finally approaches the table, his scales have darkened from their usual light gray to almost obsidian black. “Should I sit here?” he whispers. “Or in the next booth? I don’t know how these things work!”

I suppress an eye roll. “This is not an undercover operation, Pakri. Just sit down and relax.”

“Relax, right.” He chuckles nervously. “I’m sorry. I’ve never been to a secret rendezvous with an infamous outlaw before. I’m just a low level security officer.”

Infamous outlaw? I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted, but I decide to take it as a misguided compliment. “Nobody’s paying attention to us.” No thanks to Pakri’s amazing lack of subtlety. Not that I can really blame him for it. He doesn’t have the training I do.

“Right, right.” Pakri fidgets in his seat, but his scales lighten to a shade closer to burnt charcoal. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being weird, but this is all so exciting yet frightening at the same time! It’s like being in one of those action vids!”

Against my better judgment, I find myself smiling at the earnest excitement of my lunch companion. I remember feeling the same way when I first started Voidstalker training. “Hopefully, this will be a rather boring episode,” I joke, pulling out the drive D’Aakh gave me. “I just need you to look at this intel.”

Pakri pouts. “Hmm, that doesn’t sound exciting at all. But perhaps that’s a good thing. What’s on it?”

“Data we recovered from a slaver ship’s database. It’s not complete, though.”

Pakri pulls out his datapad and rests it on the table, right next to his plate. He takes a bite of his pastry before licking his fingers clean then activating the device. “I’m guessing you can’t access the UGC database anymore, so you can’t match your data to what we already have,” he surmises. “But intel like this nets a lot of money on the black market. Are you sure you want to hand it to the UGC for free?”

“Yes,” I reply without a second’s hesitation. “If it lands even one slaver in prison, it will be worth it. Do you know how to use this data? Because I don’t.” My tech skills are less than abysmal. I’m the type to bruise my body breaking a door down before I even think about picking a lock. When it comes to computer systems, data, and other whatnots, my brain just shuts down.

Grinning, Pakri grabs the drive in his clawed hand. “I do. I might not be a suave undercover agent, but data analysis is actually something I’ve been trained in. I’ll just hook it in and update the database. It will take some time to cross-reference the new entries with the old, but it should give us results within half an hour.”

“The only thing I understood was half an hour,” I admit. “I’ll leave the tech stuff in your capable hands. So, while we wait…” I take a bite of my pie, a delighted moan escaping me. “Wow, this is good. Anyway, you’ve been at this station for a while, right? Do you know a human called Nala? She’s a—”

“A working girl,” Pakri replies, frowning. “We know of her, yes.”

“We? The UGC?”

Pakri’s forked tongue darts out of his mouth, picking the last crumbs from his plate. “Yes. She’s a person of interest. An associate of the male who we assume is the head of the local skin trade. Of course, we have no evidence against him, not to mention that this is a neutral station, so we couldn’t arrest him even if we did. The UGC doesn’t have any authority here. We have an embassy but the rest of the station is not under our jurisdiction.”

I’m barely listening, my mind stuck on Pakri calling Nala a criminal’s associate. It doesn’t feel right.

It’s true that I only spent a few hours with her and during that time she stole from me, but still. Slavery? With how she was ready to ditch me at the mere thought of me being a slaver? No. I refuse to believe that. “How do you know Nala is this guy’s associate? He could just be blackmailing her.”

“He could,” Pakri admits. “But it’s unlikely. We’ve tried everything to get her on our side. Her testimony would put Drayth away for the rest of his life. We’ve offered her money, protection, a new identity, safe passage off the station, a whole new life anywhere she wants… She refuses to even speak to us. She doesn’t wear a collar and walks around the station without guards, confident and independent. She could board any ship out of here at any moment. I can’t imagine what Drayth could possibly hold over her to keep her under his control for four years.”

Having lived on the wrong side of the law for years, I can imagine any number of things the bastard could have on Nala. None of them good.

The delicious pie turns to ash in my mouth as I think about Nala. Not because I believe what Pakri says, but because I can see she’s in some seriously deep shit and needs my help, whether she’s willing to admit to it or not.

To busy myself while waiting for the data transfer to finish, I go through the bakery’s menu and order an assortment of pastries to take back to the ship. By the time they’re ready, Pakri’s datapad chimes. He taps on the screen, frowning as he reads.

“Not good?” I ask.

He grunts, studying the screen a few seconds longer before turning it to face me. “It is good, actually. The combined data holds enough evidence that Drayth is indeed the ‘Leashmaster’.” He spits the word out with contempt. “What a terrible nickname. He has good connections with the station’s governing party, but if we hand them this data, they should have no choice but to prosecute him. Especially if we threaten to take this public.”

“The same Drayth Nala is entangled with?” That’s not good.

“Yes.” Pakri brings up an image of an ugly Ataxian.

Like the rest of his species, Drayth has sharp, pointy bones protruding from the top of his skull, forming a crude mohawk. His is adorned with shiny rings, too many to count. According to Ataxi culture, each ring marks a defeated enemy. This Drayth person is either a showboating liar or a formidable enemy. Based on his ripped muscles and the glaring hatred in his narrowed eyes, I assume it’s the latter.

I peruse the information next to the image. “A busy fellow,” I note, taking in all of Drayth’s known ventures. Illegal weapons trade, drug smuggling, counterfeiting documents, industrial espionage. And of course, slave trafficking. Although most of the information is unconfirmed and cannot be used as trial evidence, I’ve learned to trust the specialists who collect it.

Nala’s name pops up at me from the text, and I reluctantly click on it. The picture attached to her file doesn’t do her justice. Her eyes are cold, expression closed off. This is not the soft, passionate Nala I spent the night with. The picture shows one of the personas she takes on to deal with the outside world.

The data confirms what Pakri said. The UGC has contacted her several times and offered all kinds of things in exchange for her testimony against Drayth. She’s refused every single time.

Distrustful. If there’s one word to describe Nala, it would be that. I need to get her to trust me, though. If the station authorities move against Drayth, she might get caught in the crossfire. Or worse, he might use her as a scapegoat.

I need to find her, and fast.