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  The stricken freighter’s database had not contained details of the more worrying planetary peculiarities. There was no record of why the Captain chose Neria 7 over her more distant sister, but in many ways, it had proved to be an inspired choice. By sheer good luck, those on the freighter touched down over the single, largest Lucen deposit on the planet, and therefore in the entire galaxy.

  Repressing a shudder, Brechal wondered if it had not been good luck at all. Lucen was the most potent psychoactive substance ever discovered. Even in its raw form, even though it was buried nearly a mile beneath the planet surface, it was too much for the freighter’s Captain and crew. It overwhelmed them, triggering their passions and fears far beyond the point of simple nightmares.

  The rescue vessel that finally responded to the emergency beacon had been more aware than the hapless civilian ship. They lost only half of their crew to death or madness before they realized both the danger and the emergency procedures that would be required to survive. Those that dealt with the aftermath concluded that every one of the freighter’s crew died of a combination of shock and terror. For the first responders, their coping mechanisms must have been better, since only a couple of them died. The rest would carry the mental scars with them for the remainder of their lives.

  Neria 7 was quarantined. It was studied in depth by academics, governments, and corporations. Brechal’s detailed research tracked years of failed exploration attempts, countless lives lost, and other frustrating forays into taming the Neria 7 environment. When a counteragent was finally developed to dampen the worst of the psychoactive effects, everything changed.

  The tablet form was priceless. It transformed the worth of the planet, and a multi-layer war for control of Neria 7 commenced. Virtually overnight, Lucen became one of the most sought-after, valuable substances in the galaxy and everyone wanted a piece of the action.

  Which had made it the perfect target for a couple of con artists and thieves who were looking for the biggest score of their lives.

  <<<>>>

  Brechal remembered his first sight of the Lucen mine. It was a vast network of caverns and chambers, some of which were natural and others which had been hewn from the rock by massive mining machines. The press of sheer mass made him feel small, or as insignificant as a seven-and-a-half foot man can understand.

  The small city that had grown up in the larger caverns near the surface was a tapestry of steel and concrete, lit by palm-sized luminescent balls that glowed like miniature suns. Even with nearly a thousand workers living there, it seemed deserted to him and his companion.

  They were two of the workers that lived, worked, and played in the city. Brechal Molotch and Tina Howel. Through liberal use of bribery and dishonesty, both of them schemed and squirmed themselves into positions in the largest of the Lucen mine taverns. Brechal worked as the bartender, and Tina as a waitress.

  Brechal knew that they were good at their jobs. Mostly. Tina was liked by all and made sure that customers were happy. The bartender was not as concerned with their comfort. There was no reason for him to pretend to be nice and since he was a mobile mountain with a lumpy face and a matting of dark hair, Brechal did not even make an effort to be liked.

  The power of his body combined with a nasty side of his personality served to both amuse him and allow him to play games with specific customers. Tending toward the social patterns of a bully, the man that had never felt accepted by “normal” society felt happiest when he could shock and intimidate people.

  One of Brechal’s most annoying habits was his tendency to serve random customers with tentacled appendages instead of his hands. He enjoyed watching the customers’ expressions when they realized what he had done. Most would be shocked or disgusted. Some would grow angry. Yet when they looked up at his leering grin and took in his fearsome size, whatever outraged complaints they might have been forming dissolved like sugar in water.

  If any happened to be brave enough to hold onto their temper, all Brechal needed to do to enjoy the payoff feeling of domination was to lean his vast bulk on the bar and ask in a sweet voice, “What are you gonna do about it?” Invariably, the answer was a fearful squeak or a rapid glance away, followed by a speedy exit from the bar.

  Despite his inclination towards malice and his foreboding aspect, Brechal was generally friendly enough and showed an interest in others. Perhaps it was because of this, and his tendency to serve generous measures, that he could often get customers to discuss things they might have wished to keep quiet.

  Yet, of the two of them, it was Tina who was better at finding things out.

  She was small and petite, a delicate pixie to Brechal’s ogre-ish bulk. Even with the sides of her head shaved and numerous tattoos to go with all of her piercings, there was something about her that put people at ease. Thinking of her now made the bartender scrub unseen spots from the BHB bartop until his eyes quit burning.

  Perhaps it was her open smile and unthreatening, playful nature. It might have been the way she had colored her hair differently every day, to match the rainbow of colors that decorated her nails. Although it could have been the infectious, slightly artificial, giggle that caught the ear.

  Tina was a mild telepath, able to both sense what others were thinking and even to project her own thoughts and feelings onto them with effort. She had been able to calm an angry or frightened customer with the same ease with which she could pluck secrets from their minds.

  If her talent proved insufficient, she had Brechal to call upon. He was aware of where she was in the tavern, sensitive to her every move. He had even kept a close eye on those whom she had served. His watchfulness was visible and the bond between the bartender and waitress apparent for all to see.

  By the end of their first shift at the Lucen bar, the mine workers had understood that Tina was off-limits. She would respond to their banter and flirting with some of her own, but should any unwelcome paw move beyond an unintended brush of her fingers as a drink was passed over, the owner of that paw would find himself hauled to his feet and facing a hostile grin from a very large man.

  Within two short weeks on Neria 7, Brechal and Tina had learned everything they needed to plan their heist. Now, all they had to do was find the right time and place to pull it off.

  <<<>>>

  Brechal and Tina’s shift was nearly at an end when they helped two heavily-intoxicated customers out of the barroom. One of them was a gaunt-looking man nearly Brechal’s own height, and the other was a woman who was only a little taller than Tina, but significantly stouter. Both were wearing bulky miners’ jumpsuits complete with ID badges, and that, to Brechal’s mind, was all that really mattered.

  Instead of being escorted to the exit, the two drunks found themselves in the storage room beneath the tavern. The miners blinked in the dim light and looked around with bleary, confused expressions. Brechal didn’t give them any time to ask questions. He quickly opened a soporific capsule beneath each of their noses, and both miners collapsed into unconscious heaps of splayed limbs.

  Brechal remembered how he had grinned at Tina. “Time to get changed,” he had said.

  Quickly and efficiently, they had stripped the unconscious duo and climbed into the miners’ jumpsuits. Tina had found hers to be a bit large for her, while Brechal’s proved to be more than snug over his shoulders, around his midsection, and at his groin.

  Brechal remembered how the pain had stabbed his groin when he had tried to stuff himself in without grimacing. The treasured sound of Tina’s laughter when he pushed his body into a garment that had not been made to accommodate his bulk tingled along his nerves in an echo of sorrow and joy.

  Tina had laughed at his discomfort and raised an eyebrow. “And people wonder why I’m with you,” she had said archly.

  Brechal remembered grunting. At first, he had been confused as to why Tina had stayed with him. He was brutish and ugly. Some would say hideous. And while they likely shared a few genetic base pairings, they weren’t even of th
e same species.

  To begin with, he had put it down to her poor judgment. A desire to experience the thrill of life as a thief, lawless and free on the edge of the galaxy. Or maybe she just wanted to slum it for a while. Either way, he had assumed that one day she would wake up and realize her mistake.

  Not one to pass up on a good thing just because it might not fit precisely into some arbitrary definition of honor, he figured he’d enjoy the ride as long as she did.

  Months passed. And then years. One day, Brechal found himself watching her, asleep in their bed in a shady stopover on an unnamed asteroid. His expression had been bemused. He had begun to think that maybe she wouldn’t come to her senses. Perhaps she would stay with him. Despite everything.

  Not long after that, as Brechal piloted their small jump-ship away from a caper gone sideways to the point where they had barely escaped, he found her looking at him. Just looking, without saying a word.

  Brechal returned Tina’s stare calmly, happily. That day, her hair was bright green, a good match for her eyes.

  After a moment, Tina had nodded. “You’re starting to get it, then?”

  “Huh?” he had grunted, full of eloquence.

  Tina smiled. “Us, you big goon. You and me.”

  Despite Brechal’s growing confidence that she was a permanent part of his life, he had been slow on the uptake. He had opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He had closed it again and looked at her in confusion.

  The time-softened bark of her laughter tingled along his nerves, prompting joy and echoes of pain. Lost in the memory for a split second, frozen at that treasured point in history, Brechal paused in his glassware rearrangement. It would be so easy to let go of the real world, of “today” and stay in the warmth of his thoughts, letting the sound of her loving laughter wrap him until he died.

  Wrenching himself from the depths and seductive thoughts of times in the past, the bartender followed the flow of memory. Irritated at her amusement then, Brechal had turned his attention back to his instruments and the screen that showed wide open space and very little else. The jump-ship hadn’t been built with someone his size in mind, so the pilot seat was cramped and jammed too close to the instrument panel for comfort. He had made it work. It wasn’t like he had a lot of choices.

  Tina had reached over and gripped his hand in hers. She was stronger than she looked, and dragged his hand away from the instruments and laid it over her heart.

  Brechal could have stopped her. Her strength was nothing compared to his. But he could read her well enough to know that she was determined. He didn’t want to hurt her, so he acquiesced to her wishes in this as so many of the other things in their lives.

  “You know I’m a telepath, right?” Tina had said, her voice uncharacteristically serious.

  Curiosity thrumming along his spine, Brechal had wrenched his eyes away from the screen. “Of course,” he had rumbled.

  Tina had asked him, “Did you know I can also project as well? Not just thoughts, but feelings?”

  Brechal still had been clueless on her point. Looking at her closely, he had shaken his head, saying, “No.”

  Tina had offered him a smile that lit her face in a remembered spotlight of love and caring. Not her usual open, friendly one, but a secretive one that was almost shy. “Well, I can. If I concentrate enough.”

  Brechal had not known what to say. Shrugging, he had said, “Ok.”

  Tina had laughed again. “You are such an idiot,” he remembered her saying. He had started to pull away once again, but she had clutched his hand to her even more strongly. “No! Stay there!”

  Brechal had frowned in irritation, not quite angry, but close to that emotion. “Why –” he had begun.

  “Just shut up for a moment. Give me this. Then you’ll see.”

  She had not given a real choice. Without waiting for Brechal’s response, she had settled herself more comfortably in the co-pilot’s seat and closed her eyes.

  At first, Brechal had sat there, just as confused as before. He had no idea what Tina was playing at. All she was doing was sitting there, breathing deeply. Looking peaceful. Serene.

  Then he had felt it. A warmth, at once delicate and pervasive. A feeling of oneness, of being complete. Of total trust, marred only by a faint, underlying tinge of yearning and hope. It felt like being bathed in pure sunlight. Like being pleasantly full from a satisfying meal, and lounging in front of the fire. Like being free, and never having to worry again.

  Brechal had been slow to understand what it all meant. She was sharing what she was feeling with him. That much was obvious, and his ordinarily cold, cynical heart was touched that she would trust him so much.

  Then, slowly, realization started to dawn. The flavor of feelings she was sharing got through to him. They matched almost precisely what he felt for her.

  For long moments, Brechal could do nothing but sit there, unmoving. He realized at some point that Tina was no longer holding his hand. He had swallowed twice and drawn a great lungful of air.

  “Well?” Tina had asked, her voice uncharacteristically small. It was as if she was anxious for some reason.

  Brechal looked at her as if he’d never seen her before. He took in her green hair, her tattoos, and her pixie-like face looking his way shyly.

  Usually, Brechal thought of himself as being forthright and direct. He wasn’t used to being tentative or uncertain. It wasn’t part of his nature. Yet, at that moment, that is what he was.

  But she’d asked him a question. He needed to respond.

  “You love me,” he had said simply. “Just like I love you.”

  Tina’s smile had grown as her shyness disappeared. The momentary uncertainty had vanished, and she was once again her usual, confident self.

  “Took you long enough.”

  Chapter 3 - First Steps

  Brechal had admired Tina’s lithe form even though the bulky, ill-fitting miner’s uniform did her no favors as they stood in the storage room beneath the tavern. All their preparations had been made. It was time.

  “Last chance,” Brechal had said. He wondered now how he could have been so clueless. The memory of that moment was etched in his remembrances like a still snapshot of life before it went branching off to a different direction, one that traveled a one-way path to pain and regret.

  Tina had quirked a half smile. “What, are you scared? Turning chicken on me or something?”

  Amused, Brechal had given a snort that was almost a laugh. His blood had surged with excitement. All going well, this would have been the biggest score of his life. It would set them both up for years to come. They could even retire if they wanted to.

  But first, they had to get it done.

  “Read my mind. Find any chickens in there?” Brechal had replied.

  Surprisingly, Tina did as he had suggested. He couldn’t feel her rummaging around in his skull, but her face took on the shape that told him that she was reading someone’s mind. Blank and yet focused at the same time, as if her thoughts were elsewhere.

  Brechal had accepted her intent and allowed one of his favorite thoughts to bubble up to the surface. Then he grinned when he caught Tina starting to blush.

  “You’re a real freak, you know?” Tina had commented, chagrined and amused both at once.

  Brechal had grinned even more broadly. “I know.” Then, seriously, “Are you ready?”

  “Ready and able,” Tina had replied, her amusement forgotten and her voice carrying more than a hint of steel.

  “Then let’s do it!”

  Brechal had thumbed the control of his holographic projector, and the edges of his face started to blur. In a moment, instead of his usual lumpy, brutish appearance, his face had taken on a more delicate, nervous aspect. He now looked gaunt, with a thick forehead and no chin.

  He looked exactly like the unconscious mine worker tied and bound at his feet.

  A moment later, Tina triggered her own holographic device, and he found himself
looking at a broad-shouldered woman of advanced middle-age who had lines of anger and worry etched on her face. She was the spitting image of the other mine worker breathing loudly on the storage room floor.

  It was the point of no return, and both of them knew it. Tina had projected an aura of confident proficiency behind the holographic disguise. As for himself, Brechal’s excitement had ramped up and merged with an aspect of glee.

  He enjoyed this kind of challenge. It gave him a sense of purpose, and superiority over those whom he bested. “We’ve got about an hour before these two wake up.”

  “So let’s hide them and get to it.”

  The two mineworkers had been heaved into an empty crate that had once contained the tavern’s new fridge. Brechal had made sure that when he closed the lid, he left enough of a gap so that the miners wouldn’t suffocate. At least that was not on his conscience.

  Then he had taken a last look around. Satisfied that the miners wouldn’t be discovered until they woke, he had headed out of the storage room with Tina at his side.

  <<<>>>

  It could have equally been the middle of the day or the middle of the night on the surface. Down in the cavern, there was no way to tell. The luminescent balls of light burned at a constant brightness regardless of the true time.

  Brechal and Tina had joined the queue of workers lining up at the featureless dome that housed the mine entrance to start the shift. Just two more faceless miners among many, shuffling forward as those ahead of them were admitted.

  Brechal had found himself humming the happy little tune he hummed when his blood was buzzing. This was the dangerous part, he had known. The part where someone might recognize the miners he and Tina were impersonating and say something to them. Brechal could probably have blustered his way through such a situation, and Tina’s telepathy would have helped. But there was always a chance that their behavior would raise suspicion.

  “Do you have to do that?” Tina had asked.

  “Do what?”

  “That humming. It sounds too happy. You are meant to be heading into a twelve-hour shift down a hole that shudders to the tune of ongoing quakes. The Lucen gives you nightmares and keeps you awake. Put a little gloominess into your expression. Some despondency. You know, start acting depressed.”