I move silently to the back. One of them is in the shower, facing away.
“Zshuit chauitz scahtri?” he hisses, expecting company.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I won’t be joining you in there,” I say, and pull the trigger.
Confederation pistoblasters are efficient like that—clean kills. One sharp burst, and the nervous, neurological, and muscular systems shut down instantly. No mess, no stench. Which is ideal, since Penubian blood smells like a rotting sea slug mixed with burnt vinegar.
I drag the first body into the shower and stash the second one with it. Two corpses, neatly tucked away in the restroom.
I take a deep breath and pause at the top of the ramp. With this ship cleared of unwanted company, time to move on to the next.
Ship number two doesn’t go quite as smoothly. Both Penubians are in the main room. I shoot the one on my right—the closer target. The other lunges, mouth open, fangs flared. My weapon drops. We're locked in a brutal fight. He grins, eyes gleaming with murderous joy. This guy’s a seasoned killer. He’s enjoying this.
We trade blows in a deadly dance, every move critical. I dodge his venomous fangs, breath controlled, senses razor-sharp. I search for an opening. He jabs. I parry. He kicks. I counter. Each hit sends shocks of pain through my already bruised ribs. I pretend to stagger, baiting him. He lunges, certain of victory—exactly what I wanted. I slide under his guard and slam my fist into his knee. He stumbles—I slip behind him, grab his chin, and twist hard. A loudcrack, then dead weight.
I drop him and suck in a few precious breaths. I retrieve my weapon from the floor. Two ships down, two to go. Plus a transport ship that could carry up to six crew members. I inhale deeply and brace for the next round.
The remaining two-seaters are along the edge of the clearing. I loop back under the trees for cover. Good call. I spot four Penubians circled around a cage I hadn’t seen before.
The transparent composite crate sits between the ships. Inside, a large feline paces, restless. The scumbags have deactivated the opacity panels, but kept the sound muted—which explains why I hadn’t heard its cries. They poke at the poor animal, taunting it one by one. Real brave, guys. I’d love to see that lynx—because I’m pretty sure that’s what it is—break free and show them just how fun their game is.
Still, it's a solid distraction. All their attention is on the cat.
I sneak closer.
When I’m within thirty feet, the feline freezes and locks eyes with me.
Instantly, its tormentors follow its gaze. So much for the element of surprise.
I shoot at the one farthest left—and miss. Damn it!
Two of them are armed. They fire back. I leap to the side, dodging nimbly. Their pistols aren’t like mine. They shoot hyper-concentrated laser bursts. Crude, but powerful enough to tear through limbs—or people.
I holster both pistoblasters and close in, forcing them into hand-to-hand. Risky? Sure. But it’s an option.
I plant myself, muscles coiled, ready. The two gunmen step forward, weapons raised. I duck behind the guy on my right. Too late for him—his buddy’s shot hits his shoulder, nearly ripping it off. The poor bastard screams, clutching the shredded limb, green blood gushing. Yeah, he’s done for.
“Shzhit chrstrrw zstkrt!” the shooter yelps, rushing toward his wounded friend.
Tough luck, buddy. You just shot your cousin—or whoever. That’s why amateurs shouldn’t play with serious weapons.
Enraged, the second armed thug tosses his gun and charges with the fourth Penubian, both of them baring their poisoned fangs.
Yeah, yeah, impressive chompers. Let me try and avoid those.
I kick one in the gut—he stumbles but stays upright. I follow up with a punch, sending the other sprawling dangerously close to his discarded weapon.
Go ahead, try it again. I’m watching.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the first one has bled out. The second one climbs to his feet, eyes blazing with hatred. Nothing new.
I need to stop playing around. Three-on-one isn’t a fair game. Time to end it.
I rush the nearest thug and slash his throat with my claws. He looks genuinely surprised as he clutches his neck.
Another one tackles me, and we crash to the ground. The last guy joins in. A wild shot hits the control panel of the cage. It vanishes—and the lynx is free.
The big cat springs, pouncing on one of the Penubians. Leaves me with just one more to deal with.
