The Starlight Lancer

Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Warden

"Best not to mess with folk who've made it their life's work to survive in harsh places."

—Former CID Lawman Aster Parga

Zaina scrambled to stand up and pulled herself atop the plateau. The children immediately noticed them and stopped playing.

"Hello!" Xyrthe said, waving.

The kids ran away screaming, tearing back toward the village.

Zaina turned to Xyrthe and asked, "Should we follow them?"

Her mentor nodded. "Yeah, something's up with this place. Let's get in there."

With a nod, Zaina reached for the particle hook-gun strapped to her waist, but Xyrthe shook her head and said, "No, not with that. I think we should take it slow."

"Take it slow?" Zaina asked, incredulous.

Staring at their quarry, her mentor replied, "Yeah. Who knows, maybe they are willing to talk—and if they are, I'd rather not blow that chance by approaching the wrong way."

At a loss for words, Zaina scoffed. This whole time Xyrthe had seemed like she wanted to get this over with—get in, kill Fell, get out. She preached vigilance and caution—and now she wanted to walk headfirst toward a town that, for all they knew, was guarded by a psychopath with long-range weaponry?

When her mouth was able to form words again, Zaina hissed, "What about the mission?!"

Xyrthe glared. "The mission is whatever we decide it is. We assess the situation and proceed however we deem best for the commonwealth of the galaxy. We don't have to kill Fell just because that's what that asshole Ondor wants."

"Fell sent marauders after us! Captain Gilvus, or whatever that guy's name was! He's going to attack the second he lays eyes on us!"

"Then we let him," Xyrthe said, activating her hex-guard. Without waiting for Zaina's response, she started strolling toward the desert village.

After a frustrated, raspy sigh prickled Zaina's throat and escaped her lips, she turned her own hex-guard on and jogged to catch up. After pulling up beside her mentor, she said, "I still think this is a bad idea."

"Yeah, I'm not sure about it myself. But I have a feeling—"

A green bolt launched from the city and rocketed over their heads. Heart pounding in her throat, Zaina raised the hex-shield and got down on one knee, making herself as small a target as possible.

We're out in the open—we're dead, she thought, closing her eyes and awaiting the end.

The next shot never came. When Zaina opened her eyes, Xyrthe was standing tall behind her, having turned off her hex-guard. Her mentor leaned over and said, "It was a warning shot."

"So they want us to stay away?"

"Yes—or if we gotta come, we gotta come right."

Not quite sure what she meant, Zaina rose. Keeping her hex-guard active, she followed closely behind Xyrthe, who appeared unbothered. At a leisurely pace they made their way into the town—the outskirts were littered with trash half-covered by the sands; blankets, sheets of tin and rotted board, and broken wooden toys were all held by the desert.

Up close, the people's homes were even more disheveled. Every structure aside from the central tower was patchwork, rigged up with rope and kept together with prayers. Some people milled about, but most were inside the decrepit shacks, peeking out from holes in the wood and tin walls, or from behind hanging blankets where walls once were.