The Starlight Lancer

Chapter Forty-Three: Devil's Last Deal

"Everyone in this line of work wants to talk about deals, and no one's worth trusting."

—Legendary Bounty Hunter and Gunslinger Tierdol Darhklaw

Zaina thought about everything the woman told her. Despite her self-loathing and guilt, she still wanted to be a lancer—even if they were essentially warriors-for-hire. Nothing could be made right, but perhaps this was her chance to prevent future wrongs.

She nodded. "Yes."

The woman stood. "Excellent. Then your release will be arranged immediately. Androids will be here no later than nightfall. They'll have your personal effects—and the cargo."

Zaina's eyebrow rose. "Wait, cargo?"

"Well," the woman said, "Drel Ofrans can't exactly be expected to return his rental ship, can he? We'll see to that. But there was a clause in his contract about his body, should he die and his remains be retrievable—that his remains should be sent back to Kaado for burial in a proper lancer ceremony."

After blinking a few times, Zaina narrowed her eyes. "You want me to do it."

"That is the stipulation for your release, yes."

Zaina was in disbelief. "That's why you're banishing me? Because you're too lazy to—don't you have glyphs that could do it?"

"We do," the woman replied. "However, Kaado is on the other side of the galaxy. Fuel isn't cheap. If we sent a glyph, it'd be a two-way trip, since, again, the ship was rented out to the Order."

So that's why she was being banished—to save Bilvane money. The whole thing stank. "So all that bravado about me being a lancer was bullshit, huh? You're sending me to the Order with a lancer's body that I—I doubt that's going to go well."

The woman shrugged. "You could look at it that way. You can look at it however you want. It's a win-win as far as I'm concerned; either you do somehow become a lancer, or they imprison you and you become their problem. Or you could stay here, make me do extra paperwork, and drain our prison budget further—I, for one, pay enough in taxes that go nowhere."

Zaina shook her head and breathed a sigh of reluctant defeat. Even though it benefited her, this was Otmonzas at its worst—uncaring, callous, and greedy. Maybe it was best for everyone that she left. "Yeah—fine."

"As for the Order, I'll see that the androids provide you with a copy of your data file, including the results from here today. It might help smooth things over. Honesty seems to be your strong suit, so go with that."

Zaina bitterly asked, "Oh, you're doing me a favor?"

"Think of it as a going-away gift," the woman replied. Then she turned to Breli and said, "All right, make sure her file gets done so we can release her before the day's end. Come on, now, we've got more work to do."

With that, they left the room—the door slammed open and shut once more. Zaina stared at the ground in disbelief. She was being released, but the reason for her release was tenuous at best.

What am I going to tell the Order—if I ever even get there?

There was no choice but to deal with that later. For now, she was getting out of here. She hoped the lessons she'd learned on Otmonzas—a place she was glad to never return to—would serve to make her a better lancer.

—

Within a few hours' time, Zaina stood outside the prison complex with an empty satchel. The armor and weapons had been confiscated, leaving her with the clothes on her back. A beacon attached to a small metal chain was draped around her neck—her way of contacting the morgue to pick up Drel Ofrans's body when she was ready to depart Otmonzas.