Lyra

On the terraformed planet of Regulus, a thunderstorm was brewing, dark, purplish clouds steadily rolling across the heart of the city, interrupting planetary and galactic travel for light years around. The planet sat at the core of several dozen systems, one billion people crowded into its megacities while the terraformer machines continued to put the finishing touches to the planet's biosphere.

Large drops of rain angrily spattered across Lyra's hood and shoulders, the dull slaps quickly growing into a deafening roar. Street lamp reflections shivered in the newly formed puddles as the rain pounded the sidewalk and soaked her shoes. Lyra hitched up her coat and kept her head down, ducking off the street to head sub-level. She avoided the bright, crowded shopping district of the underground and slipped into the darker side passages, angry neon signs illuminating the rust-colored hallways, their humming buzz punctuated every so often by muffled curses and laughter.

She stopped at a gray door most would mistake as a maintenance or storage closet, DO NOT ENTER painted in large, white letters across its surface. She shoved her credit stick under the door, the thin device disappearing for a moment. The door shuddered as heavy bolts thundered open and Lyra was admitted, grabbing her credit stick from the doorman as the entryway sealed shut behind her with an ominous thud.

She kept her hood on and chose a seat at the bar, ordering a drink and waiting for her contact to show up. She still couldn't believe she was doing this. She shouldn't be doing this, for professional, legal and personal reasons. Yet here she was, all because her former partner had called in his favor, the one he'd promised never to use.

Her contact slid into the seat next to her, the same terrible pick-up line reassuring her everything was going smoothly so far. "Can I buy you a drink or do you just want the money?"

"Neither," she responded as the bartender slipped her a whiskey. "But you can tell me if you're available this weekend."

Aron Gray smirked and ordered a beer. Lyra had always thought he looked too handsome for a mercenary, his only flaws a deep scar running from the right side of his lower lip to his chin and choosing the wrong side in the Tiberian civil war.

"I was surprised you called, considering how we parted last time," he said.

"I owe someone a favor. And if you could not bring up the incident, I would very much appreciate it."

"'The incident?' Is that what you're calling it." He tsked. "That hurts."

"I'm sure you'll recover. Now about the deal. What says Henders?"

"The captain thinks the offer is too good to trust. That's a lot of money, even for a-" his voice dropped "-hostage situation. Which makes him think you haven't been completely honest."

"Your contact can provide you with the details."

"Why not now?"

"Because…" she paused as the bartender drifted by, then lowered her voice to almost a whisper. "If someone finds out I've compromised operations by talking with-"

"Adventure capitalists?"

"-privateers."

"How romantic."

"Then I will lose my job. Or worse."

"You could always join us. The captain's always in the market for a smart hand."

"I like wearing a suit and tie."

Aron chuckled and sipped his beer, sweat dripping from the bottle and onto the rough, wooden bar. A whiff of illegal narcotics, sweet and nauseating, drifted by as people shuffled to and fro in the dimly lit lounge. Even this hidden place was a front, camouflaged doors leading to deeper rooms that hosted all manner of back-door deals and perverted fantasies that Lyra tried not to think about.

She fiddled with her glass, too tense to take another sip. Any of the other patrons hidden in the smoky shadows could be one of the organization's agents planted on Regulus to keep an eye out for unusual murders or disappearances. The hunters liked going after criminals and Regulus was no stranger to violence.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled in warning. One of the patrons had been staring at her for quite some time, but unless she turned to look at him, she couldn't be sure if it was recognition or lust that drew his scrutiny.

"Don't worry. That guy isn't interested in you." Aron's smirk didn't quite reach his steel-gray eyes.

"Need an escort?"

"Nah. He's been tailing me for a while. He won't try anything today. They usually get twitchy before they try and bust me."

They both took another sip of their respective drinks, Lyra paying the bartender while Aron checked his hand for the time, glowing text scrolling across his flesh. It disappeared with a wave of his other hand, like an eraser across a chalkboard. He chugged the rest of his beer, sighed in satisfaction and got up to leave.

Lyra grabbed his arm. "Hey, wait. Do we have a deal?"

This time Aron was all business. "No. For all we know, this is a trap. I'm sorry Lyra, but right now the money isn't adding up and the captain doesn't like it. You need to give me something more or I'll tell him you've changed your mind."

Lyra ground her teeth, anxiety knotting her stomach. How do you ask someone to fight monsters?

Sung had somehow managed to contact her. The hunter named Gabriel had returned, blooded and pissed and wanting revenge. Even with six other hunters and a few volunteers, they were short on manpower. So she'd pulled some strings, contacted business mogul Shen Xu who'd lost his great-niece to the hunters, picked up some funds and contacted a group of mercenaries she'd worked with before. How did she explain everything? That there were extraterrestrials that got their kicks hunting humans and other terrifying organisms that could wipe out colonies overnight?

"The hostages were taken by… aliens."

Aron's look of incredulity morphed into a chuckle. When Lyra continued to glare at him, his mirth dissipated. "You're serious?" He pulled his arm out of her grasp and leaned forward, practically on top of her as he searched her face. "Lyra…" he breathed as he pulled away. "You really believe that?"

"I've seen them. And they're not green and cuddly. They're big, fast and ruthless. Complete savages. It's dangerous. Very dangerous."

"Lyra, this… this is a bit hard to swallow."

"Then go to the contact site and you'll have your proof."

Aron's brows furrowed. "Alright. I can't promise anything, but I'll pass it on to the captain."

Before she could thank him, his lips were pressed against hers, soft and strong and gone too quickly. Stunned, Lyra watched him exit, unsure whether she felt angry or something else.

"Damn you," she whispered.