Chapter 5

Remma watched Sol's face as he realized what was going on. His expression of betrayal was quickly replaced by disgust, which was even worse. "You do know them," Sol said, upper lip curled.

Remma didn't answer. There was nothing he could say that would make this situation better.

"This your friend?" Nerri asked in Tozrai, gesturing with the fucking rocket launcher he'd brought along to—what? Further terrify one already-terrified human? As he spoke, a man Remma didn't recognize came over to take Sol's rifle and pat him down roughly, removing his belt knife in the process. Remma didn't understand the need for this display, or why these assholes had come to find him in the first place when he'd explicitly told them he needed more time.

"Is there some reason you're here," Remma said instead of answering.

Nerri shrugged. "Boss wants you back. Told us to come fetch you. It's taking you too long to find the—" He broke off with a glance at Sol. "You know. The thing."

"He doesn't understand what you're saying," Remma said, leaving the you dumbass unspoken. "You don't need to censor yourself."

"Fine, then I won't. You've been fucking around on this planet for more than a year, and boss wants you back on the ship. We've got word of a big haul out in Yesserchao system. Time sensitive, you understand. He seems to think your particular skillset will come in handy."

All of Remma's careful work, the year of scavenging and searching, the year of forming relationships with the colony—all wasted. For some rumored haul. "Is that it, then? We're giving up on finding the tesseract core?"

"Not giving up, just setting it aside for now."

"That's the same as giving up. The colony won't ever take me back now." Remma gestured at Sol. "Look at his face. You think this is a man who's going to forgive and forget? Sure, come on back and live with us again after it turns out you were working with pirates all along."

"Take it up with the boss," Nerri said. "He'll have a plan."

Would he, Remma thought. "Fine. Then let's get the human back to his people and?—"

"Get him back?" Nerri snorted. "Who's got time for that? We'll kill him and dump him, just like we did with the other guy."

Remma went cold. No surprise they had killed the scrapper he and Sol had found—he'd guessed as much—but he would be damned if he let them kill Sol in front of him. Not Sol, not—Remma wasn't going to let it happen.

"There's no need to kill him," he said, trying to keep his expression bland, as if it didn't really matter to him what happened to Sol when in fact it mattered more than anything else. "Just send him back to his colony. These scavengers aren't going to cause us any trouble."

"Faster and easier to dump him in the woods. Plus boss doesn't want anyone knowing we were here. Best to keep business private, you know." Nerri gestured to Camma, standing nearby, who stepped forward holding his gun. "We don't want anyone running around telling tales."

"His mother is the colony leader," Remma said, truly grasping at straws but with no better ideas coming to mind. "I imagine she'd pay a good price to have him back safe."

Money was a language they all knew. If anything stopped Nerri's hand, that would be it.

And Nerri did pause and give Sol a considering look. "Him? He doesn't look like much."

He didn't, and that was unfortunate: average height for a human male, leanly muscled instead of bulky, nondescript in every way. "He's their best scavenger," Remma said, trying not to sound too defensive. "And humans have strong parent-child attachments that last into adulthood. His mother would do almost anything to get him back."

"Almost," Nerri repeated. "Well. We'll see how strong the attachment is, I guess. Assuming you can convince boss to bring him on board."

Sol was never going to forgive him and that was a fact. Remma kept his expression neutral. "Where's the shuttle, then?"

"Half a day's walk. Think your human can keep up?"

"He'll keep up."

"Then tell him no trouble or he gets shot. He even looks like he's thinking about escaping and we'll shoot him. You say he's worth more alive than dead but I'm not convinced. I'd be just as happy to dump him in the woods."

"You've made that very clear, thanks," Remma said. "Let's get going, then. Or you want to keep running your mouth?"

Nerri snorted and turned away to start calling orders. Remma had always hated him, and felt justified now in hating him even more strenuously than before. What a self-important prick.

He turned to Sol, who was staring at him with an expression of cold distaste. Nothing Remma could do about that. Conscious that everyone in earshot was listening, he said, "Our ship's up in orbit. We're going there. I told them Loden will pay to get you back in one piece, so they're willing to keep you alive for now. Don't cause any trouble."

"It's a good thing my colony is so large, wealthy, and influential," Sol said, in the driest tone imaginable.

Remma didn't wince, but it was a near thing. "Yep, very fortunate. Come on, we're heading back to the shuttle now. They expect you to keep up."

"Noted," Sol said. "I guess I have to trust you." You treacherous asshole, his burning eyes added.

Remma couldn't say he was wrong.

They set off, walking at a fast pace for a Tozren, which required Sol to trot to keep up. But he did keep up; Remma hadn't doubted that he would. Sol was fit and healthy and used to hard travel in the barrens. He was equal to anything these shipbound Tozren were, aside from hard combat. Which hopefully wasn't in the cards.

As he walked, Remma gnawed on his lip and tried to think. He had no real plan; Loden definitely didn't have the cash on hand to pay a ransom that Denna would accept. All he could do was keep lying and hope a better idea came to him in time.

He wasn't going to let Sol die. That was all he knew for certain, a glowing white-hot star at the core of him. Somehow he would get Sol home again.

* * *

The pirates'shuttle was scratched and dented but punched through the atmosphere with barely a shudder. Sol closed his eyes as he felt the shuttle's artificial gravity take over. He'd never left the moon before, and this definitely wasn't how he'd thought it might happen.

The shuttle had no windows. It smelled like engine grease and what he recognized as Tozren body odor. He was strapped in like cargo in the very back, wedged between two storage containers. He wondered what you could see from the cockpit. The planet, blue and green. The curved surface of the moon growing more and more distant.

The sledge had an emergency beacon on it. After twenty-four hours without moving, it would start sending out a signal. So at least the colony would get the drop they'd found.

Loden might never know what had happened to him. She would think he had died. Well, he probably was going to die. If these goons were going to try ransoming him back to the colony, they would be sorely disappointed. Remma was an idiot to even attempt that lie. Better to have slit his throat like they did to that poor scrapper and leave him to rot in the forest. At least then someone from the colony might have found his corpse.

The shuttle whirred and clanked. They were docking, presumably. Sol tried to decide how he felt. Doomed. Furious.

He should have tried harder when Remma first showed up at the colony and Loden decided to take him in. He'd argued against it at the time; he'd thought Remma's story was really flimsy and didn't trust him. But Loden, despite her cautious nature, had a soft heart and didn't seem to think anything all that bad could come of it. Well, little had she known.

He blamed himself, mostly. He'd let his guard down. All the months of going out scavenging with Remma, hanging out with him at home, fucking him—he'd let himself start to like Remma. That was a mistake. He should have held on to his caution, and maybe then he wouldn't be trapped in this situation. He would have turned back to the colony at the first sign that something was wrong—that first day when Remma thought they were being followed. He would be safe at home right now, not trapped on a pirate shuttle, probably destined to be shoved out an airlock once the pirates figured out Loden had no money and no ability to get any.

Fuck. Sol was not having a good day.

The shuttle vibrated for a moment, and then the engine turned off. The Tozren unbuckled themselves from their seats. As they filed off the shuttle, one stopped to unstrap Sol and haul him roughly to his feet. "Get going," the man said, gesturing with the gun he was holding.

Sol looked around for Remma but didn't see him anywhere. At his delay, the Tozren shoved the muzzle against Sol's ribs and snapped, "Move."

Okay. Not like he had a choice.

He followed the Tozren's impatient nudges off the shuttle and through a hangar. The hangar wasn't at all like the ones Sol had seen in vids. It was dimly lit by strips of blue lights running vertically along the walls, which bulged and turned in strange organic shapes. A deep, erratic thrumming noise seemed to emanate from the floor, traveling up through Sol's feet and making his bones quiver. The air was uncomfortably warm and humid.

"Through that door," the Tozren said, and Sol quit gawking and went through the door that slid aside to let him pass.

The corridor they came out into had the same blue light and damp air. As the Tozren guided him along a winding route, a headache began to throb behind Sol's eyeballs. This day wasn't turning out the way he'd expected.

Finally the Tozren stopped before another door. "You're meeting the boss," he said. "Don't piss him off or we'll space you."

"Okay," Sol said, as if he had any clear idea how to avoid pissing off a Tozren he'd never met.

The Tozren touched a round knob beside the door. The door slid open. Sol, nudged by the gun, stepped inside.