'Prologue'

Naedul Gren’Tahl sighed as she returned to her office. The ‘fresher break she’d just taken had seemed typically short, and now the only thing left in her day’s work to look forward to, was going home.

Not much happened on Myons IX. Especially for an interspatial flight controller like Naedul.

Every ship that had passed through Tuftedri Spaceport within the last month could be counted on one of Naedul’s smooth, light-blue hands. And that meant four, if she included her thumb.

Indeed, excitement was in scarce supply on Myons IX.

She sighed again as she entered the atrium to her office. Glancing at the reception desk near the back of the small room, she noticed that her aid, a male Dotheric named Pillins’gul, wasn’t present. Normally, the fastidious secretary was behind the desk’s terminal, organising flight schedules and the like. Strange… Naedul thought. I don’t recall him scheduled for a ‘fresher break around now.

She shrugged it off. Pillins was probably preoccupied with something else. As dreary as the spaceport got, Pillins managed to keep busy.

She passed the desk and stooped just before the door for the retina-scan. The solid ebony of her two eyes stared into the scanner, and led the laser grid determine that she did, in fact, have clearance to enter Naedul Gren’Tahl’s personal office.

The door opened. She stepped inside. And from the sight that immediately hit her, her earlier questions about Pillins’ absence were abruptly answered.

The four-foot Pillins’gul was dangling, his height, off the floor, clutched at the throat by a orange-red alien’s burly claw. The alien Naedul recognized as a Ribbian, a tall, rugged species covered in scales.

Without taking his yellow eyes off of the terrified Pillins’, the Ribbian nodded to Naedul.

“Just the Dotheric I’m looking for. Lucky for your friend here that you arrived when you did.”

Shocked and frightened, Naedul blustered. “Who – who are you?!”

The Ribbian smirked. “I have several names. It depends on what sector you’re in. But around here…,” He turned to look at Naedul. “People know me as Kojae Cerqotte.”

Naedul stiffened. She’d heard that name before.

Cerqotte was a notorious bounty hunter. Naedul had heard stories about the marks he’d captured, the raids he’d staged, about how ruthless his methods were and the lengths he went to in achieving his ends.

And achieve them he did.

Over seven feet tall, Cerqotte and his victim stood in front of a spacious window display that looked out over the spaceport’s landing pads and hangars. Before them rested Naedul’s olive coloured desk-terminal and chair. Cerqotte himself was covered from chest to feet in maroon and grey blast armour, leaving his head uncovered. The Ribbian’s head was shaped so that it resembled the face of a Koba’an Slate Snake. Two large bone structures grew out of the bounty hunter’s head, forming a ‘hood’. Just beneath the glowing eyes were patches of scales that lay on either side of the creature’s sharp nose. For a Ribbian, Cerqotte cut a very imposing figure.

Around his thick waist and across his shoulder and chest ran sturdy utility belts, from which hung various pouches, tools, and weapons of varying natures. ‘Jectile and energy-based pistols were present, as well as several sharp knives of alien design. Behind him, Naedul could see a pack which held a long, bulky rifle.

Not the sort of excitement she’d had in mind.

“Never… heard of you.” She managed.

The Ribbian grinned again. “I can see that you have, Ms. Gren’Tahl. But you have no cause for worry. That is, providing you tell me what your friend here claims he cannot.”

Without provocation, the Ribbian drew back the Dotheric with his hand, and hurled him against the opposite wall. With a heavy thud, the slight creature hit the wall’s surface, and listlessly tumbled to the floor.

“Pillins!” Naedul exclaimed. She hurried over to the visibly quivering aid, kneeling at his side.

“That won’t be necessary.” Cerqotte stated flatly. “He will survive… at least for now.” He pulled out a pistol. “Now, my dear, it’s time we talked. All I want from you is one insignificant piece of data. Co-operate, and you may yet escape this encounter with minimal pain. Do not… and I can assure you that this will be the worst day of your life. Perhaps the last.... The choice is yours.”

She tried to glare at the towering Ribbian, but knew that her overpowering fear tainted her attempt of defiance. “You d-didn’t have to hurt Pillins-” she started.

“I do what is necessary, my dear.” He paused, glancing at a device set into his right gauntlet, before sheathing his weapon. “Enough stalling. You know the Tradivalis?”

She nodded tentatively. “It - it left several days ago.”

“Was there a male Human among them?”

“Y-yes”

“What was the Tradivalis’s destination?”

She gulped. “Pilots… usually d-don’t advise us of their flight destination.”

Cerqotte’s yellow eyes hardened. “You take me for a fool. I am quite aware that sanctioned departures have destinations listed. You will tell me where the Tradivalis went, now.”

She gulped again, and got to her feet. “I’ll need a terminal to check.” She walked confidently towards her desk… and Cerqotte behind it.

“You need a terminal…” the Ribbian muttered irritably as she eased past him and sank into the chair before the terminal. “You are not taking me seriously, are you.” He reached for the pistol once more. “Experience, my Dotheric friend, can be a powerful teacher.”

He’s going to kill me! Naedul terrifyingly thought. She shook with fright as the bounty hunter behind her aimed the pistol, and fired.

Sizzling green energy spat out past Naedul’s head and streaked across the room, hitting the cowering form of Pillins’gul three times. Each shot crashed into the Dotheric aid’s side, knocking him over onto his back as he squealed in pain.

“Pillins!” Naedul cried out, getting up to rush to the Dotheric’s aid.

Yet one orange gnarled hand forced her back into her seat. “A backwater spaceport such as this only sees a small number of ships in a standard year. You know precisely where the Tradivalis is going… you would not forget. Any ship that passes through is a note-worthy occasion.” the Ribbian said wryly.

“You - you monster! Why did you shoot him?!”

Cerqotte violently spun the chair around, forcing Naedul to stare into his penetrating yellow eyes. “I think you know that Pillins will die shortly if he does not receive medical attention. And he will not receive said help until you tell me what I want to know!”

He growled in anger. “Now, where is the Tradivalis?!”

Naedul stammered, sobbing. She knew very well where that ship had gone. All that Cerqotte had pointed out about Tuftedri Spaceport was true. But to tell this… this beast, this demon where they had gone….

Cerqotte snarled, and backhanded the flight instructor across the face. The sledge-like blow knocked Naedul off her chair and she tumbled to the floor.

Cerqotte immediately grabbed her by the throat and hoisted her up above the Ribbian’s head. “I will not ask again.” He growled. The grip on her throat began to tighten.

Naedul struggled with both hands and her limber, hand-like feet to free herself. But the Ribbian’s grasp was like iron. Unyielding. The scales of the Ribbian’s hand began to cut into her throat, and she gasped for air. Her eyes darted to the stilled Pillins, severely burnt on the side of his chest. And she knew.

She had no choice.

“S-Sura…trata!” She managed as the pain mounted.

Cerqotte abruptly let go, letting the now-limp Naedul fall onto the desk, and then, the floor. He nodded to her lifeless form. “My thanks.” With that, he touched a device on his belt, pulled out a laser-cutting Streamer, and began slicing through one of the windows behind him.

Massaging her neck, Naedul slowly raised her body into a sitting position. Glowering at the bounty hunter, she rasped: “D’Xore kills people like you all the time.”

The Ribbian’s huge lobes pricked up. “The Tradivalis’s commander?” He began pushing out the window pane he’d just cut. “You’re mistaken, my dear. I’m not after him.”

She stared at him, her voice barely a whisper. “Then who?”

Suddenly, a huge, rust-red ship roared up along the side of the window. As a wide, metallic boarding ramp extended from an open hatch on the side of the ship, Cerqotte seemed to ponder her question.

He smirked to himself as he stepped through the window and onto the ramp. “My mark is Brison Targota. Telling a nobody like you won’t have any effect on his capture, even if you somehow managed to warn him. I never fail, my dear. Targota is about to learn that.”

With that enigmatic name left in Naedul’s ears, the bounty hunter disappeared inside his ship, and unceremoniously roared away.

Glancing at Pillins’gul, Naedul crawled over to her terminal, and immediately called for security and vitamedics.

Author's Note

Well, the prologue turned out alright, I think. A few bugs, but we'll wait and see what any reviewers think.

Anyway, I guess if you haven't read any of my other story, (A Question of Vengeance) you may be a bit confused. The story takes place in my 'Terran Agency' universe. So if you generally liked what you found here, stick with me. More chapters will be coming later. Or even, have a look at AQOV.

Not much else to say. Thanks for reading and/or reviewing.