The pirates—though he’s beginning to doubt that they’re pirates at all—watch as the courier stands at the centre of the solid wall before him. He touches a hand to it briefly before stepping back a pace. Closing his eyes, he takes a steady breath in and places his hands together, as if in prayer. He feels his palms and fingers tingle, feels the metal of the wall resonate in harmony with them, then slowly, he draws them apart. The energy of the metal parts in unison with his gesture, physical matter following with a sonorous groan. Opening his eyes, he takes a second step back as he throws his arms wide, the metal rushing outward and disappearing into itself.

Glitch had expected a hidden button, a biometric scanner, or some other clever trick to reveal a secret room. Maybe a special knocking pattern. Or—even better—a weird dance. That would have been hilarious.

She did not expect the man to just tear open the wall.

Clearly, neither did Blues Scale, flinching beside her at the sound of roaring metal.

“He’s a mage,” says Blues, eyes wide.

“Huh. An earth mage.” A faint smell of hot metal fills the cargo bay. Glitch squints at the sides of the opening—the wall was at least a half-foot thick. “A powerful earth mage. Oooooh, guess that explains all the gold.” She grins, impressed by the attempted misdirection. “Very cheeky.”

“And very illegal,” says Blues Scale. Glitch responds with a snort.

“Because we’re paragons of the law.”

“I’m just saying, he’s working for the Thuliv Authority.” Blues Scale shrugs. “Bold of him to have a crate full of mage gold.”

“I know, right?” drawls Glitch. “I wanna keep him.”

Behind the wall sits a hidden room, the unlit gloom of it bare but for a second, larger shipping container emblazoned with the insignia of the Thuliv Authority. Until today, the courier was the only man in all the cosmos who knew the room existed. He turns toward Merry, not bothering to mask his irritation, and gestures to it mockingly.

“There. It’s open. Happy now?”

“Stand aside.” She strides past him, evidently not happy. “Duke, Blues Scale, watch him. Glitch, with me.”

The courier steps back as Glitch floats past him, fixing him with a long, curious stare. He feels a childish urge to stick out his tongue at her, but before he can act on it, finds himself flanked on either side by the other two men. They make no move to grab him this time.

“Well, there goes my gold star delivery record,” he says with theatrical shrug. “If I wind up starvin’ to death for lack o’ work, I’m blamin’ you.”

“Would you stop playing dumb?” Blues Scale snaps. The courier shoves his hands into his pockets and glares at him.

“Oh, trust me,” he drawls, “when I’m bein’ dumb, it’s entirely genuine.”

“No kidding,” says Blues Scale, as Duke chortles. “And keep your hands where we can see them.”

“Would ye rather them fidget with lint in my pockets,” says the courier, removing them with a wiggle of his fingers, “or out here, where I can fidget shrapnel to rain from the ceiling?”

Blues Scale narrows his eyes. “If you can actually do more than open walls, why didn’t you fight back properly?”

“Because laser guns are a mite faster than I am.”

“Might wanna stop antagonising us then, bro,” Duke warns him, pleasantly.

Their conversation is interrupted by a sudden chorus of beeps, singing out from where Glitch is hacking the complex array of security and monitoring panels which adorn the Thuliv Authority container.

“Wow, they totally skimped on their programming budget,” she scoffs, zipping between screens. “This one is way easier to hack than the gold crate.”

The courier can’t help but feel some small measure of pride at that comparison.

“Alright, all done,” crows Glitch, turning to Merry. “Are we ready?”

“Are you certain it will open safely?”

“I’m sure,” says Glitch. “Though—um—Duke? Maybe you’ll wanna come over here. Just in case.”

“On it,” says Duke, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and striding forward. The courier finds himself, yet again, extraordinarily nervous.

“Safe?” He turns to Blues Scale. “Why would it not be safe? What’s in that thing?” Blues Scale fixes him with an expression he can’t quite read. The courier folds his arms with a huff. “I swear, if you lot blow up my ship, I’m goin’ to be one very pissed off ghost.”

“You’d be a poltergeist with that amount of chatter,” Merry mutters, just loud enough for him to hear. She nods to her little pink hacker. “Go ahead, Glitch.”

Glitch pauses for a moment, murmuring a few soft words, then touches one final panel.