Chapter 1: The Broker's Offer
The nebula outside the observation deck swirled like melted candy, its crimson and violet tendrils bleeding into the infinite black. Candy Girl leaned her hip against the curved glass, the cool surface a faint thrill against her effervescent skin. She blew a bubble with her gum, a perfect, shimmering sphere that popped with a soft snap that echoed in the quiet room.
The scent hit her first—ozone, polished metal, and underneath it, that faint, sweet vanilla. She didn’t turn.
“You’re paying a lot for a view, Zara,” Candy Girl said, her voice a playful, bubbling alto. “Could’ve sent a holo.”
“Some conversations require a certain ambiance.” Zara Thorn’s words were smooth, each one placed with deliberate care. She moved into Candy Girl’s periphery, a silhouette of sleek silver and elegant shadow against the cosmic fire. “And certain discretion.”
Candy Girl finally turned, her wide, sparkling eyes taking in the information broker. Zara was all sharp angles and cool calculation, her silver skin reflecting the nebula’s glow. The subtle glint of cybernetics flickered deep within her pupils. Candy’s own pink, fizzy texture seemed almost obscenely vibrant in comparison, her cotton-candy hair a wild halo. She towered over Zara, but felt no taller.
“Discretion’s extra,” Candy Girl said, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “My line of work’s kinda flashy.”
“I’m aware of your work. And your success rate.” Zara glided to a polished obsidian table that seemed to drink the light. A single datapad lay on its surface. “Which is why you’re here.”
With a final, slow pop of her gum, Candy Girl ambled over, the deck’s plating thunking softly under her heavy boots. She didn’t sit. She looked down at the datapad, her bubbly demeanor solidifying into something far more focused.
The woman on the screen had a face built for shadows and quick getaways. Sharp, intelligent eyes, a scar through one brow, hair the colour of tarnished copper. Lyra Vex.
“Smuggler,” Zara supplied, though the datapad was already streaming data. “Data runner. Thief. She lifted a payload of proprietary neuro-imprints from a client of mine. Very valuable. Very personal.”
“Catchy resume.” Candy Girl scrolled with a fizzy pink finger. “Says here she’s a ghost. Last seen in the Kessel Terminus. That’s a big sandbox.”
“She is meticulous. But she has a tell.” Zara’s honeyed voice hardened with steel. “She frequents low-orbit pleasure hubs. She has a… taste for the exotic. It’s a compulsion. A weakness.”
Candy Girl looked up, her head tilting. “And you think my particular… aesthetic… will be to her liking?”
“I think your particular species’ reputation will be of interest.” Zara’s enhanced gaze didn’t waver. “Her last verified port of call had a black-market vendor specializing in rare… culinary delights. Vanilla extracts from the Outer Rim were listed. A specific, biological variant.”
The air in the room changed. The hum of the hyperdrive coils seemed to grow louder. Candy Girl’s playful smile vanished, replaced by a flat, unreadable neutrality. Her skin’s gentle fizz slowed, the pink hue deepening.
“That’s not common knowledge,” Candy Girl said, her voice lower.
“It is my business to know uncommon things.” Zara tapped the datapad. Lyra’s face rotated. “Your business is retrieval. Bring her to me. Alive, unharmed, and untasted. The condition of her mind is irrelevant, so long as she can answer questions. But her biology must be intact.”
“Why?” The question was out, blunt and simple.
“The neuro-imprints she stole are keyed to my client’s life-signs. Lyra’s planning to sell them to a syndicate that specializes in identity-wipe and rebirth. My client would simply cease to be, replaced in their own life by a syndicate puppet.” Zara’s lips thinned. “It’s not just business. It’s personal. She betrayed a deal. She thinks she can vanish.”
“And my fee?”
Zara named a figure. It was astronomical. Enough to buy a moon.
Candy Girl let out a low, bubbling whistle. “That’s ‘retire-for-five-lifetimes’ money.”
“It is.” Zara leaned forward, the vanilla scent mingling with her own metallic sharpness. “And I will double it. Upon delivery, alive and uncompromised.”
The emphasis hung in the air, charged and explicit.
“But,” Zara continued, her voice dropping to a whisper that cut through the thrum of the ship, “if you indulge. If you sample the product, so to speak… the contract is void. You will have stolen the commodity I am paying for. I will not pay for damaged goods. And I will consider it a theft from me.”
Candy Girl held her gaze. The broker’s eyes were like data-chips, cold and storing everything. This wasn’t just a job offer; it was a trap laid within a trap. The payout was a lure, the target was bait with her own irresistible lure, and the single, bizarre condition was the tripwire.
She felt the old restlessness stir, the boredom that came with easy captures. This was different. This was a puzzle wrapped in a danger, sprinkled with a massive payday and a very specific, very personal taboo.
Lyra Vex’s face stared up from the table, a challenge in her pixelated eyes.
Candy Girl’s smile returned, but it wasn’t the bubbly, silly one from before. It was sharp, fierce, and utterly captivated.
She reached out, her hand hovering over the datapad. “Alive. Untouched. Got it.”
She didn’t touch the screen. Instead, she patted her thigh, where her plasma-blade was strapped. The gum snapped between her teeth.
“Where’s her ship docking next?”