Ratchet

  With the tension between Evan and Emerald addressed, and their Zorkmeds collected, the Gamma Hounds returned to Horizon’s Retreat. As the group prepared to land, Ratchet wandered the hallways looking for Evan. When he found Evan’s room empty, the fennec decided to check the lounge. His small legs kicked into overdrive so he could catch Evan before they docked and ask him an important question.

  After all but sprinting to the lounge, he found Evan on the couch watching the news. A green can of Blast Cola rested lightly in Evan’s right hand while he propped his head up on the arm of the couch, his cheek resting on his left knuckle. The anchorwoman—a raccoon in a sharp dress—was, to Ratchet’s surprise, speaking about their most recent bounty.

  “…with their new team member taking out at least a dozen Reavers! Space Station 13’s Governor laments the loss of the harvesters, but is confident that with the safety and rescue of the miners they can swiftly recover. Black Shadow has already built a reputation as an efficient, if less than legal, solo hunter. I for one am excited to see where the team goes with the fearsome lone wolf replacing the vaunted Ace. We now go back to our special reporter Nathan Arost, who is currently with Chief Researcher Yoru Gon of Heward Industry to discuss their newest discoveries at the precursor ruins on Hemmit Two.”

  “Thanks, Rebecca. Now Mr. Yoru…”

  Evan turned his head, finally noticing Ratchet, and gave the fennec a nod and a grin of acknowledgment. “Sup.”

  Ratchet walked over, nodding in return. “Nothing much. You plan on celebrating with the rest of the team?” the fennec asked with a grin.

  Evan raised an eyebrow, took a sip of his drink, and responded, “That depends. How do y’all plan on celebrating?”

  “Well, since coming to Horizon’s Retreat we’ve been going to this one restaurant…” Ratchet began, only for Evan to hold up a hand to stop him.

  “As much as I would enjoy that, this—” He motioned at his own face. “—kind of makes that an issue.”

  Ratchet perked up at that. “That’s the thing—we get a private room, so it shouldn’t be an issue. All orders are placed through a kiosk, and the staff always knock before entering.” The short fox sported a wide grin, positive that Evan wouldn’t refuse.

  Evan took a moment to mull it over before finally nodding. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a restaurant. Is tipping a thing here?” he asked before finishing his drink.

  Ratchet cocked his head. “Not out here. That’s more of a fancy restaurant thing on the core worlds.”

  Evan stood up, joints popping as he moved, and walked over to the trash can to toss the empty can. “When are we leaving?” he asked, glancing at the digital clock next to the screen.

  “Well, we were going to leave in a few minutes, but I’ll tell Em and Nia you’re coming.”

  Evan nodded and started toward his room before he frowned. Worried he might have offended him, Ratchet decided not to leave it unaddressed. “Something wrong, Evan?” the fennec asked.

  Evan shook his head. “No, just realizing how goofy I’m going to look going to a restaurant in power armor.”

  Ratchet chuckled and shrugged. “Look, man, it’s going to take a lot to outdo Black Shadow,” he prodded, giving Evan a light elbow to the side.

  Evan couldn’t help but chuckle too, a small grin forming beneath his helmet.

  A few minutes later, Ratchet found himself with Emerald and Nia in the hangar, explaining the change of plans.

  “Some time off the ship will be good for him,” Nia said with approval.

  “It’ll be good for all of us. Besides, he’s part of the team now. Him not being with us on our public outing would be odder than him not taking off his helmet,” Emerald added with a smile, no hard feelings lingering from her earlier confrontation with Evan.

  It wasn’t long before Evan descended the steps from the ship to join the squad, his power armor donned and helmet in place.

  “Look at you, all suited up for a black-armor occasion,” Nia teased.

  A snort came through Evan’s vocal speakers. “One day I’ll have a reason to break out the white one,” he joked—half seriously—causing the crew to look at him oddly.

  “Do you actually have a white one?” Emerald asked, her green eyes sharp with curiosity.

  Evan nodded and went statue-still for a moment before his suit suddenly shifted to a bright white that rivaled Emerald’s fur. The arctic fox stepped closer to examine the armor.

  “I can also do other colors, though I rarely have a reason to,” Evan said as the suit’s light faded into white once more.

  “No, keep it white,” Emerald said quickly. Her tail flicked once—too fast for anyone but another canine to notice—and Ratchet swore there was a softness in her eyes before she smothered it under her captain’s composure.

  Evan cocked his head but complied. Emerald wore a bright smile, admiring the color but offering no further comment.

  Ratchet watched with a wry smile, recalling Emerald’s fondness for the previously nameless bounty hunter. He suspected that fondness still lingered despite her recent attitude.

  Nia rolled her eyes before letting out a loud, attention-grabbing, “Ahem.”

  “Are we ready to go?” she asked in an annoyed tone.

  Everyone nodded—some reluctantly, others eagerly.

  As they walked down the ramp, Ratchet pulled out his comm-pad, likely to place a call, but hesitated. “Are we walking or using a taxi?”

  Evan shrugged. “I’ve only been to the dock rental houses and the military base, so either way I’m following you all.”

  Nia shot him a look. “So you’ve never been in the station proper?”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “It’s not worth the trouble,” Evan said. “Both times I tried, I ended up running into one issue or another.”

  Emerald snickered behind a paw. “I imagine the local defense force wasn’t keen on an unregistered hunter walking around in power armor.”

  Evan nodded. “No, no they were not.”

  “So how about we walk? Give you a chance to see the commercial district. They won’t give a registered hunter any trouble,” Emerald suggested.

  Ratchet nodded eagerly. Evan nodded too, though his expression remained unreadable.

  Nia, however, looked put off—until that look of concentration washed over her features again. After a moment, her face became unreadable. Nia’s pupils dilated in an unsettling way—like she was listening to something no one else could hear. When she blinked, the expression vanished, replaced by a calm almost too calm to be natural.

  “That sounds like a great idea. Evan could really use the walk,” she said, her attitude doing a complete 180.

  “Yeah, I guess I could. So are we going to eat first, or did you guys have something in mind?” Evan asked.

  “Lets shop around first, I can think of a few places I think you’d enjoy.” Emerald answered stepping forward. She then guiding them out of the docks toward an exit with an automatic walkway under a sign labeled Commercial District. “You guys wait a bit before following. I need to have some… girl talk with Nia.” She then grabbed Nia by the arm and pulled her onto the automatic walkway waiting until they were out of earshot of Evan and Ratchet before breaking into a visibly animated argument.

  “Weird,” Evan muttered, reaching up to scratch his chin before remembering he still wore his helmet.

  Ratchet nodded. “Yeah, did you see that look Nia got before switching up her demeanor?” Ratchet thought back to his felanid friend’s action.

  “I’ve seen her get that look a few times,” Evan said. “You think she’s got stomach issues? It’d explain why she suddenly wants to walk. I hear that helps with bowel movements.”

  Ratchet stopped to make sure the others were still out of earshot before breaking into a laughing fit. “She really does look constipated when she does that,” he cackled. Then his ears bobbed as he remembered something. “She made that look a few times right after I joined.”

  “Did she stare right at you when she did?” Evan asked, uncertainty clear even through the helmet speakers.

  “She could always be a closet pervert with a bad poker face,” Ratchet teased.

  “Don’t say that. Now I’m gonna feel like she’s undressing me with her eyes every time she does it,” Evan grumbled, shooting an uncomfortable glance forward. Before motioning for Ratchet to follow him as they finally stepped on the walkway.

  Ratchet grinned as Evan shook his head in good humor. Their conversation drifted to more mundane topics before eventually fading into silence. The walkway hummed beneath them, carrying travelers past neon signs and floating banners advertising everything from starship coolant to street-vendor skewers. A pair of Gerallian pups tugged their mother’s sleeve, staring at Evan with wide eyes before whispering excitedly about “the shiny hunter.”

  After that Ratchet noticed that Evan began to observe those they passed. Most were the canid-like Gerallians, though they saw a few Saurians and Felanids. One group of Felanids commented loudly:

  “Oh my gosh, look at that. It’s so sweet how even hunters find time to take their kids into town.”

  Ratchet felt every strand of fur on his tail bristle. One of the Felanids even waved sweetly at him, as if expecting him to wave back. Evan nearly doubled over, armor plates clinking as he fought to keep silent.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Ratchet snapped, glaring at them, though the cats seemed oblivious.

  Evan turned off his mic as laughter overtook him. To everyone else, he simply looked like a strangely rigid white-clad soldier shaking silently.

  Eventually the automatic walkway ended, and Evan and Ratchet stepped off to join Emerald and Nia. Ratchet still looked annoyed, though Evan had composed himself.

  “Y’all have fun with your… girl talk?” Evan asked as they approached.

  “Soooo much fun,” Nia muttered, shooting Emerald a dirty look.

  Emerald returned a stern glare, and Nia frowned back.

  “I’m feeling like we missed something,” Ratchet said.

  “Seems like it,” Evan agreed.

  “You didn’t miss anything,” Emerald snapped. “Anyway, let’s show you around before grabbing some grub.” She grabbed Evan by his armored wrist to drag him along, only to find herself stopped cold by his mass.

  She shot him a glare.

  “Oh—sorry.” Evan relaxed, allowing himself to be dragged. Emerald set a brisk pace, practically running through the crowded district. The crowd parted instinctively—an armored giant and a determined arctic fox had that effect. A few vendors paused mid-sales pitch, eyes tracking Evan like he was a walking tank about to fire.

  Ratchet and Nia watched them speed off.

  “She seems excited,” Nia commented, a satisfied smile barely visible.

  “For someone who I’m guessing got chewed out, you seem fairly happy,” Ratchet teased.

  Nia’s smile vanished. She flicked his ear. “Tch.”

  Ratchet winced, rubbing his ear. He flipped her off. “Thanks for the confirmation.”

  “I did not get chewed out. We just had some important personal things to discuss. Besides, it was more of a lecture.” She started toward the rapidly shrinking figures of Emerald and Evan.

  But before she got far, she heard raspy breathing behind her. Turning, she saw Ratchet struggling to keep up—his small legs sprinting just to match her light jog.

  Letting out a resigned breath, she grabbed him by the collar. “Come on.” With little effort, she picked up the diminutive fennec and continued at her previous pace, barely slowed by the extra weight. Ratchet crossed his arms with theatrical indignation as his feet dangled. “This is undignified,” he hissed.

  “You’re welcome,” Nia replied, entirely unbothered as she strode past a pair of astonished shoppers who did a double-take at the sight of a grown fennec being carried like a disgruntled kitten.

  Evan

  The city was different than I imagined. It bustled with all varieties of sapients. The way they used the streets fascinated me. The entire street level was filled with pedestrians—some window shopping at stores whose brightly colored signs drew the eye, others waiting at railed stairways leading up to short catwalks that served as parking spots for taxis and personal shuttles.

  It was difficult to get a good look at each shop with the pace Emerald set, but frankly, I was just glad to be out. Seeing all these people wandering the streets brought a melancholy nostalgia to my chest. It was all so close to familiar, yet different enough to remind me it wasn’t home.

  As I thought this, Emerald suddenly stopped, forcing me to slow down so I wouldn’t run over my energetic captain.

  “In here,” she said, pulling me into a shop whose sign displayed a drawing of an Argonaut painted a cartoonish yellow-gold: Stanley’s Premium Fighter Depot: Parts and Wholesale shone brightly beneath it.

  With a good idea of what to expect, I followed her in. The air changed immediately—cooler, drier, smelling faintly of lubricants and ozone. Rows of hovering holograms rotated slowly, each fighter model shimmering like a museum piece. Louey’s booming voice cut through the quiet like a plasma saw through hull plating. Metal and polymer streets gave way to synthetic tiles. The store was much larger than it appeared from outside, stretching far enough that I suspected it reached near the outer shell of the station.

  The floor space was dominated by the hologram displays of different fighter models—mostly Argonauts and Talons, with a few newer Damascus models scattered among them.

  I stepped forward, eager to look—only to be cut off by a green saurian gator.

  “Well naw, you look like a discernin’ customah. How can ol’ Louey help ya today?” he greeted, his accent thick.

  “Just looking for now,” I responded politely.

  Louey guffawed. “Oh, an’ I be supposin’ dat armor is fo’ style?” He motioned at my suit with a stubby claw.

  “Well… the color is,” I said defensively as Emerald walked up, causing the gator to burst into laughter.

  “Well, if I’s can help ya find anything, be lettin’ me kno’. Oh—well if it isn’t my favorite white-clad bounteh huntah. No offense directed toward ya new frien’.” Louey nodded at Emerald, who gave me an apologetic look.

  “Louey, my new squad mate hasn’t been here before. I was thinking you could show him some of your more unconventional items,” she said.

  Louey’s demeanor shifted immediately. He took on a serious expression as he looked me up and down. “Do ya now?” His eyes locked onto me with a scrutinizing, far more intense gaze. Louey’s nostrils flared slightly, the gator leaning in as if he could smell the battles etched into the armor. His tail thumped once against the floor—an instinctive sign of interest among Saurians. Now I wondered, what might this gator have up his sleeve?