Jinx eyed the stretch of tech and lean muscle that was Lieutenant Commander Reid Nathanial Kaplan. Outwardly, he looked one hundred per cent human. No obvious facial or skull mods under his therm-pro's hood. The man didn't need spike implants or filed teeth to unnerve. Not with those eyes. That weird distance in them.

Some part of him wasn't in the junk-cluttered escape tunnel with her. His neurotech—an unusual and expensive enhancement for a void hound—would be feeding him data and coms. He had a small headset by his right ear, almost hidden by his hood and dark hair.

But right that second, she had his attention. Or, at least, her report on the explosion out in the wastes did. He remained seated, his long, Zex-clad legs stretched out as if he were in no hurry to go anywhere, but the look in his eyes...

The man was ready to move—shoot something.

He tossed her com back to her. "Call your friend and find out what he or she knows about that site. Audio only. Don't mention you have company."

"Okay..." He knew something about the explosion and the Xykeree. Should she ask? How much breath did she have to waste? The guy hadn't even wanted to give her his name. He wasn't advertising his business on planet. Or his presence.

That made her damn curious. And edgy.

Playing along would be her best bet for getting answers.

She placed the com-link request.

Lenton accepted it immediately. "Jinx?" His taut greeting made her wince—and resolve to leave Tirus sooner rather than later. Before a certain other issue could affect her friends. "You okay? Where are you? Your signal's messed up. Your location's not registering."

"I'm fine, Smarty." True—sort of. Her headache and the weird buzz developing in her skull weren't going anywhere, but the screams had been silent for a while. "Just keeping my head down and running a location-masking app. Figure you know why."

"Yeah, I'm monitoring the backchannels to see if anyone's brain dead enough to try to collect on you. So far, the pros aren't touching the job—too much heat. Demtong's got all of Enforcement looking for you, and he's threatening to close the entire port. The mining VIPs are denying all knowledge of the contract. They're talking about legal action. You need to call your supervisor and let him know you're okay before this gets out of hand."

Jinx pressed two fingers to the ache between her eyes. "I'd be flattered, except I get the feeling if some mine-corp thug doesn't beat me bloody, Dem sure as hell will."

"Jinx, I'm going to beat you bloody. Answer your damn com. And what's this void shit about you fainting while on board the roach ship?"

She bared her teeth. Olsen and his flappy lips. Now everyone was going to be on her back about Medical. "Lenton, those ships are hot, suffocating, and infested with cybo-bugs. Don't give me grief. Just give me an update on the situation in ground sec three."

"Fine, Demtong can ride your arse about a med check. But you go silent on me again while that contract is live, I will personally violate every piece of tech you own to hunt you down. You know I have the shit to do it, Jinx."

"Love you too, Smarty."

"Save it. You're staying on my shit list." Her friend tapped something vigorously on the other end of the link. "As for the situation in sector three, the air droid has just finished its first sweep. Give me a sec to..." He trailed off then let out a low whistle. "Okay, visual feeds are up. Oh, yeah. We've got evidence of an explosion alright. But it's not from a lost missile or scav strike. I'm looking at a significant debris field. The remains of a vessel."

Jinx cut a look to the man seated across from her. His eyes met hers. No surprise in them.

Not good.

Over the audio link, Lenton continued. "Looks like it ploughed through a few dunes, exploded on or after landing. No sign of survivors or bodies, but—Damn it!"

Jinx snapped her gaze back to her com. "Smarty? Lenton, what—?"

"Something killed the feed. Fuck it! Can nothing work today? Tacha!" Lenton's voice faded as he moved away from his com to yell to his team lead. "Call Search and Rescue. Downed ship, grid sec three delta-eight-zero—and a lost air droid... Yeah, put it on my fucking tab. Jinx—" His voice came back strong. "I've got to go. I'll send you the footage we got before we lost the signal. In the meantime, keep your head down and call your irate boss."

"Thanks. Will do." She took a calming breath as the link closed, then flicked her gaze up. "Anything you want to share, Lieutenant Commander?"

"Kaplan." He flowed to his feet, making her nerves jump. "Skip all military references for the time being."

"Uh-huh." She stood, noting absently she barely reached his shoulder. The tension coiled in the lean muscle beneath his armour and worn therm-pro was much, much more interesting. "What do you know about that ship, Kaplan?"

A bland glance—his standard response to unwanted questions. He slid back his hoodie's sleeve to bring up local dock schedules on his com. "You're familiar with most of the regular crews and their vessels?"

"Sure. But I don't think you need help identifying that wreck."

"No. I need a ride off planet. Seven ... no, eight passengers."

She stared at him. A crashed vessel. One the Xykeree were interested in. Multiple people needing a ride off planet. Ah, shit—was that a fairly fresh cut under his hood, near his hairline? Her stomach went into freefall. "Please. Tell me that's not your vessel, that you didn't ditch here after a clash with the Xykeree."

He dropped his sleeve back over his com. "There's been no altercation between Coalition and Xykeree forces to my knowledge." He stepped away to head for the nearby stairwell, his bleak gaze countering any reassurances.

She watched his long stride eat up the tunnel's dusty floor. A man in a hurry. One being careful where he stepped. If the Xykeree hadn't been involved with his vessel's crash, why were they looking for it? What were they after? Intel? Military tech? More bodies for their larders?

Hell. She took in the telling bulges of weaponry under the void hound's therm-pro. He'd said there hadn't been an interspecies altercation. That didn't mean there wouldn't be.

She caught up with him just as he moved to open the stairwell door. Grabbing his arm—was a mistake. The look he gave her...

She tightened her grip, delivering a warning of her own. "Roaches, crashed ship, no time for chitchat. I get it. But one question: Are people in this port at risk? We've got multiple Xykeree vessels in local space. One of which has human blood on its deck. I've got friends liaising with the roaches right now."

Again, his stare raised her heart rate and the whine in her skull. "The Xykeree are still keeping up appearances—requesting planetary access, submitting to port inspections. They know better than to openly challenge the Coalition."

"And the blood?"

"Most likely a void rat's, someone the roaches know the Coalition won't start a fight over."

"So, they still attack ships? Brilliant." After what she'd seen on the barge, she had no trouble believing it. Shuddering, she pushed aside memories of targeting beams and the thick stench of rot. "You should let them know you're here. Put them on notice. The sat tech outage is probably what's given them the balls to play games today. I don't want anyone hurt, and rescue and salvage crews will be heading out to the wreck now."

"There are other factors in play." Kaplan pulled out of her hold—shot her a look that warned her not to ask for details. "As for the rescue crews, they're not the kind of target the Xykeree could take out without drawing attention."

"What about you?" Jinx eyed his civilian hoodie. "No one knows you're here, right? Except me and the roaches. If you'd been still out in the wastes when they got surface clearance..."

The corner of Kaplan's lips lifted a nanometre. If he had a sense of humour that second, it lay in the void. "That ride, Ms Koel. Can you assist?"

"Maybe..." She thought of the trouble attached to the guy's military-grade arse. Damn it. Did she not have enough to deal with already? Getting him a ride for so many people wouldn't be simple. Not today. And where he'd most likely find one happened to be the last place a person should go with a price on her head.

Of course, in the competition for the most unwanted attention, military cyborgs trumped bounty hunters and pissed off ship crews.

"C-Deck." She winced as she said it. "Three flights up. You'll want to load more tranqs."