Outlaws

"Hello Pan."

"Freelancer."

Behind her suit's visor, Coda couldn't help but wince. "Freelancer." Everyone called her "Freelancer," as if she didn't have a name. Agents in Fort Tarsis called her that, the members of her Strider crew called her that, the thugs of the Dominion called her that. Granted, those bastards might not actually know her name, and their exclamations of "Freelancer!" might have been more "oh shit, there's a Freelancer, kill her" rather than "Freelancer, good to see you, how's your day been?" but…alright, maybe she was overanalysing this. She wasn't one of those weirdo Arcanists who insisted that Mirras was just a pocket dimension and they were all following the orders of some pre-existing program.

No. She was a Freelancer, by profession, and for better or worse, by title. So that went walking over to people like Pan, retracting her suit's visor, and looking down at the smuggler. Even if he'd been standing up rather than sitting down at his fire, she'd have still been over a head taller than him.

"So," Pan said, turning a piece of meat over at the fire. "What's it this time?"

"You know what it is."

He looked up at her, smirking. "Enlighten me." When Coda frowned, he continued, saying, "come on, just do it again. You're so cute when you act all high and mighty."

"Thanks to this suit, I'm both of these things," Coda said. "But fine, I'll bite." She took a breath. "Fire spice. You've been smuggling it into Antium for a month now."

"Gee, only a month?" He snorted. "Well, that's long enough for the good folks of Antium to get a taste for the spice, doesn't it?"

Coda glared at him.

"What?" he asked. "Don't tell me you never tried it?"

"No."

"Not once?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Pan, Shapers help me, I-"

"Come on, you enjoy it," he said. He turned the piece of meat over again. "I mean, not the whole spice thing. And yeah, addicts are addicts, and I'm a darn terrible person for giving them a taste of true living, but come on, you enjoy this."

"I don't, Pan."

"Don't you? Then how come you aren't taking me back to your Strider right now?"

Coda didn't say anything. Nor did Pan. The only sounds were the crackle of the fire, the whispers of the wind, and the songs of birds. That, and a roar coming off from somewhere in the jungle – close enough to give Coda pause, not so close that she felt at risk. Not yet at least.

"Really don't get how you stay out here," she murmured. She began pacing around the fire.

"Eh, we Outlaws manage."

"Forget 'manage,' it should be impossible. I mean, the Dominion is even more stringent against smugglers than Antium is, the Scars want to kill us all, and every animal on this planet wants to eat us, and…say, what kind of meat is that?"

"Grabbit." Pan took it off the fire and took a bite. Coda watched his teeth tear into the animal's meat, clearly enjoying it. "Want some?"

Coda, feeling a wave of nausea build up in her stomach, raised her hand and said, "I'll pass."

"Really? Tastes good."

"I'm sure it does. But isn't that what you say about your drugs?"

"Spice, Freelancer, spice." He took another bite. "Mmm. Least let me finish this okay? I can die a happy man if this was my last meal."

"Yeah, I bet." She continued walking around the fire. "You do know that grabbits are carnivorous, right?"

"Yep."

"And that their meals include humans?"

"Only the stupid ones who can't survive out here, but yes."

"So by eating grabbit, you're potentially committing cannibalism?"

Pan, his mouth open, the meat hovering in front of it, said nothing. The grabbit carcass just hung there, like a stunned bird.

"I mean, don't mind me," said Coda. "But I believe it was the great philosopher Dinaxis who said "you are what you eat."

Pan took another bite. Between chewing, he muttered something that sounded like "ntdxiswadoxe."

"I'm sorry?"

"He finished chewing. "Said it wasn't Dinaxis who said that, it was Diroxis."

"Oh."

"Happens to the best of us."

Coda smirked. "You're not the 'best of us,' Pan."

"Course I am. That's why I manage to survive out here, and why you're letting me finish lunch before taking me off to a six by four cell in Antium to spend a month or so before I'm let off the hook."

"I…" Coda swallowed. "Okay, first of all, it's a five by four cell."

"Really? Been in so many, thought I'd have got the measurements right?"

"Second of all, the reason I'm letting you finish lunch is…" She trailed off.

"Is?"

"Um…" She blinked. "Sorry. Thought I'd have a better one-liner by the time I finished that sentence."

Pan snorted, pieces of meat falling into the dirt below. "Freelancers. Know how to shoot, don't know how to speak." Seeing Coda's look, he smiled. "Hey, not saying all you weirdos are the same. I'd take you over Corvus any day."

"But what about the Dominion?"

"What about them?" He took another bite of the grabbit carcass, of which there was little left – it amazed Coda how the criminal could talk and eat so quickly, let alone do both at the same time.

"Would you take them over Corvus?"

But asking Pan about eating and talking would have to wait.

The smuggler shrugged. "Dominion isn't buying, but…"

"But?"

"I'm always on the lookout for new clients." He sighed. "Get that they ain't a fan of you, but they ain't a fan of the Scars either. Less of those freaks around, the better."

"So high and mighty of you."

"Ain't either of those things Freelancer." He took his last grabbit bite. "I'm one of the Outlaws. I stay in the dirt, providing services to those who think they're high and mighty, but are really just as dirty as the rest of humanity." He looked up at her. "Like you."

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, admit it."

"I will not-"

"Hmm." Pan held up a hand to silence Coda as he finished the last of the grabbit. The result was that she just stood there, waiting for him to finish.

Why am I doing this? If I grab him now, we could be back at the Strider in five.

"Thing about you, Freelancer, is that you like me," Pan said. Coda opened her mouth, but he kept talking. "I mean, not like-like, but…like." He paused.

"Keep searching Pan, you'll find it."

"Thing is, you're talking to me. And since you're flying around in a giant exoskeleton, while Outlaws survive by the skin of their teeth out here, I bet you kinda like us."

"I do not like-"

"Spending so much time away from Fort Tarsis? Killing Scars and Dominion?" He smirked. "I bet you like us, because we can at least talk to you – don't give you the silent treatment or the gobbledygook that counts for a Scar language."

"I-"

"And most of all, it's why you let me finish my lunch."

"Yeah. I did." Coda took a step forward, her Javelin's heel extinguishing the fire. "Now lunch is over. Move it."

"Ah, to fly, to soar, to seek ground no more." Pan got to his feet. "Yes, I read a poem. Try not to faint."

"Where you're going, you won't be reading much."

"Based on the Sentinels assigned to me? You'd be surprised."

Coda didn't say anything. She had little love for the Sentinels, and it didn't surprise her that some might be willing to provide criminals like Pan with little luxuries in exchange for luxuries of their own.

Should just keep him locked up, she reflected, as she grabbed the smuggler's arm and activated her jets. Or kill him.

"Look mama, I'm flying, I'm flying!"

I could just drop him, she thought to herself as they took off. No-one would have to know.

Well, maybe Owen at least. But he was just a kid. Kids could keep their mouths quiet with the right incentive. What that would be in Owen's case, Coda didn't know, but-"

"Are we there yet?" Pan wined.

"No."

"Now?"

She sighed, and increased her velocity. Bad enough that Pan was annoying as he was.

Worse that on some level, that he was right.