...With my high now thoroughly killed thanks to that bullshit, I turned my attention to a Nostrotorian barbecue stall across the way, Vaccucheria Gonzalo. A middle-aged Nostrotorian guy with navy blue hair and a thick mustache (think Tom Selleck, but blue) stood behind the counter, sharpening a cleaver like it was his favorite pastime. He gave me a wide grin, the kind of grin you get from someone who loves their job.

“Ah, a Solarian girl with auburn hair! And a complexion like my own! Come, would you like to try a delicacy from my home, El Madre Tierra, Amiglia?” He stabbed a toothpick into a juicy piece of Vaccucho, drizzled it with spicy Donsdelia pepper oil, and handed it to me.

My mouth watered instantly. This was pasture-raised beef from the legendary Vaccho Amigliano Strexians claimed Earth cows were descended from. Nostrotorians had been raising these beasts since their ancestors left the Forest of Inception, and with millennia of experience, they had Earth cattle ranchers beat by a galaxy-wide mile.

The second that steak hit my tongue, it was a flavor explosion. Perfectly juicy, with the heat from the oil blending into the beef like a fucking symphony.

“Good, no?” the mustachioed vaccuchero asked with a knowing smile, tossing more lump charcoal into the grill’s firebox.

“Fuckin’ mind-blowing,” I told him through a mouthful of heaven.

He chortled. “You Solarians and your colorful word choice never fail to… how you say? Crack me up?”

I nodded, confirming his use of Earth slang.

“Very glad you enjoy it. Can I get you a platito?”

“Hell yeah, you can! Can I get a sampler plate? I wanna try a little bit of everything,” I said, eyeing the chorizos and some decadent-looking chicharrón through the glass divider at his cutting station.

“But of course!” he hummed as he started prepping my order.

As I waited, I glanced across the alley at the purple-haired guy, still brooding at his table. What the hell, I thought. I accessed my bank app through my optic, pulled up a few credits in augmented reality, and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, man. Next round’s on me, for standing up to that pious dickhead.”

He broke into a grin, throwing his arms up in a cheer as his friends joined in. I tossed a holographic bill toward the bar stall’s register, and right on cue, a hose spout descended, refilling their drinks.

“Señorita, your order is ready,” the vaccuchero sang out.

I turned back to the stall as the group behind me chugged their drinks. “How much do I owe you?” I asked.

“800 credits,” he said with a satisfied nod.

I lightly tossed the credits into the register, the green light flashing in confirmation. He handed me the platter, and with a nod of thanks, I headed back to Gonzo for a well-deserved snooze.

The hatch to Gonzo’s cargo bay opened with its usual slow creak as I made my way up the ramp. Sure enough, the goods from The Afterglow had been delivered, all neatly packed in the bay. I walked up to one of the packages and pulled out my switchblade, slicing through the opaque saran wrap that covered the bulk supply of recreational psychedelics. Peeling it back, I popped open a case of -Tosh and grabbed a full-sized lavender canister, scented like the flower it was named after.

“Okay, Webster, report,” I said, setting the paper bag of food on the coffee table beside the starmap, currently just a glorified paperweight.

“The delivery went off without a hitch! Dropped off by a very friendly delivery man at 8:42 PM local time. Refueling and maintenance, courtesy of The Pulse, were completed at 7:22 PM,” Webster chirped.

“The Pulse sent maintenance? Huh. That’s thoughtful,” I muttered as I kicked off my boots and the blood flow gear strapped tightly around my legs. Tossing my hat onto the hook, I collapsed into my pile of futons and pillows.

“How much will the port authority charge us to stay for five or six hours?” I asked, already bracing for the pain.

“Approximately 30,000 G//C at the most,” Webster replied in his usual chipper tone.

I winced. “Yeah, no. Take us into far orbit. We’ll park there and grab some shut-eye.”

“You got it, Tracy!” Webster said cheerily as Gonzo lifted off from Port TND.

I watched the city shrink away through the skylight display, letting the sight soothe me as I reached into my pocket for the lavender -Tosh canister and my atomizer. Sliding the canister into place, I twisted it with a satisfying click, then charged the atomizer with a soft hiss before releasing the -Tosh up my right nostril.

“Fabric softener~” I sighed in bliss, before drifting off into a -Tosh-fueled sleep.

The sound of the comms station chirping jolted me awake. I grumbled, rubbing my eyes and sliding on my round-framed, Merigold optic-lensed glasses. As my AR interface flickered to life, Webster chimed in.

"Tracy, we appear to have company. They've been hailing us profusely for the past two minutes with their shields raised. I raised ours as a precaution."

I sat up, a little bemused. "Who the fuck would have the balls to stick someone up in the vicinity of Bay City?!"

"Correction, Tracy. We are no longer in Bay City's far orbit."

"What?!" I shouted, my jaw practically hitting the floor.

"We are currently in open space, just outside the Velstrazda Star System."

"What the fuck are we doing all the way out here-" I stopped mid-sentence, running a hand through my hair. "You know what, fuck it, just get them on the holopit."

Still half-asleep, I pulled the holomatrix emitter down from the ceiling, the makeshift holopit glowing to life. A video feed of the other ship’s crew popped up, two guys in black flight suits, helmets on. Their civilian spacecraft was clearly modified with weapons, probably YSD's "alleged" war toys that conveniently fit civilian market ships. I recognized the type; YSD loved to pretend they weren’t selling weapons to smugglers, bounty hunters, and arms dealers, but no one believed their bullshit anymore.

These were definitely bounty hunters. Judging by their intimidation act right off the bat, they were likely the kind of cowboys who took jobs from morally questionable "agencies" like The Grey Syndicate or, more likely, The Imperium.

“Fellas,” I greeted them, trying not to let them see how much I was sweating bullets.

The hunter pilot spoke up. “We’re searching for Leon Stardust. We have reason to believe he’s on your ship.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Leon Stardust?” Holy fuck, the bounty on that guy must’ve given people brain damage. “That can’t be right, I’m the only one on board.” Nice going, idiot. Why the hell would I tell these creeps I was alone? I cursed at myself silently while reaching under the coffee table, my hand closing around my handgun, keeping it hidden. Just in case.

“When we approached your ship, just before you raised your shields, our scans indicated there were two life signs aboard, one human female and one Strexian male. We picked up his trail back at Bay City's Port TND. Maintenance camera feeds reported a teal-blue-haired individual accessing your ship and never leaving before takeoff.”

I froze. Maintenance cameras? Teal-blue hair? Shit.

“Look,” I said, stalling for time. “If there was a stowaway, especially a galaxy-class thief, I think I’d notice. And anyway, you're flying a YSD Cruiser. Your scanner’s probably busted alongside the cigarette lighter.”

My stomach growled, as I reached for the bag of food I’d bought earlier, only to find it was empty. I froze again, staring at the crumpled bag. Oh, hell no.

“Uhh... please hold,” I said, killing the feed. The screen went dark as I cocked the hammer of my laser pistol. “Leon Stardust, I know you're in here. Show yourself."

A few seconds passed, then one of the floor panels popped open. A pair of violet eyes peered out from the darkness, followed by a tall, teal-haired Nostrotorian with long lashes, aviator goggles perched on his head, and a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. He was dressed in a sharp suit with a gray leather jacket in place of the blazer, thin and breathable, perfect for moving around in.

“Buenos días, did you sleep well?” he asked, flashing me a flirty wink.

He was met with me aiming my handgun straight at his face.

“Estrellas mía~ Usually, the threats of violence to make me stay come after the passion,” he quipped, still grinning.

I rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to vomit. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Stardust.”

He shrugged, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Are you going to try your luck again, or are you getting to the point?”

He chuckled. “You’re not going to give me up to those bounty hunters, are you?”

“And miss basking in your legendary charm?” I shot back sarcastically, then sighed, lowering my gun. “I’m not about to fold to a couple of Imperium bootlicking assholes.”

I reached out a hand to help him out of the floor panel, which he took with that damn smile. Once he was up, I closed the panel behind him. “If you can get this ship the fuck away from those assholes, I’ll take you wherever it is you need to go.”

Leon raised an eyebrow, a bit skeptical. “Really? You’re not going to try to outsmart them yourself? Or use your captain’s wit to get around these guys?”

“Why would I?”

“Because you’re a starship captain?”

“By technicality.” I corrected him

“Qué?”

“I’m a journalist. Hired geek. Professional coward. As for the bravery and outsmarting?” I paused, eyeing him. “I’ve heard all the stories about you, the heists, the escapes, the way you slip out of impossible situations like it’s nothing. Now let’s see if any of it’s actually true, or if you’re just a damn good storyteller.” I crossed my arms, meeting his gaze. “That’s your department.”

Leon smirked, pulling down his goggles. The faint glow of his heads up display lit up within the lenses as he cracked his knuckles.

“¡A la chamba carajo!”