The gym smelled like sweat, leather, and desperation. Jace found it oddly comforting.
He'd just laced up his gloves when a bald brute in a rumpled suit tapped his shoulder.
"Office," the man said.
"Which one?" Jace asked, not moving.
"Charles wants to see you."
Ah. That office.
Jace wiped his brow and followed the thug across the mats. As expected, the man tried to shove him through the office door.
Jace spun, tripped him, and sent the goon crashing inside with a grunt.
"Oops," Jace muttered, stepping over the fallen body. "Poor door manners."
Inside sat Dax Marlowe, local 'businessman' and unspoken ruler of Delta's underworld. His pale grey suit was wrinkle-free. His smile wasn't.
"Arlo Greaves," Marlowe said smoothly. "Or should I say... something else?"
Jace stayed standing. "I go by Arlo these days. Easier."
Marlowe nodded. "We have a project. And we need someone who understands alien power tech."
"Alien?" Jace frowned.
Marlowe didn't blink. "Something old. Buried. We can't make it work. You might."
"And if I say no?"
The thug, Thumper, Jace remembered, cracked his knuckles from the corner. Another goon flanked the exit. Between them sat a man with a badge: Inspector Renfield. Crooked, bored, and bought.
"You'd be surprised how many people care if you vanished," Marlowe said softly. "Spoiler: not many."
"Fine," Jace said. "Two days. Then you take me out there. I want hazard pay—fifteen hundred, up front."
"You're bold," Marlowe said.
"You're desperate," Jace replied.
There was a pause. Then Marlowe chuckled.
"Done."
As Jace turned to leave, Renfield spoke for the first time.
"She'll never help you, you know. That sergeant. Pryce."
"Wouldn't dream of asking her," Jace said over his shoulder. "This is strictly between us criminals."
An hour later, he stood outside Elena Pryce's modest apartment. A hand-written sign hung from his chest:
"Going into the desert. Need to talk. Off record."
She opened the door with a Glock in her hand. "Are you insane?"
"Probably," Jace said. "But this is important."
He sat at her table while she kept the gun within reach.
"I'm not Arlo Greaves," he admitted. "Real name's Jace Langton. Ex-Captain. Forgotten Legion."
Elena's face hardened. "You're a rebel?"
"Used to be," he said. "Then an Imperial lab rat. Then a glorified space hobo."
"Why tell me?"
"Because in two days, I'm being taken to something... wrong. I need someone to know where I've gone. Someone who might come looking."
She hesitated. Then reached for a pen.
"Start talking, Captain."