Second Quadrant, Alay (Seat-Planet of House Claw)
Law, Amarel, and Jean trudged over the dry, frigid ground of the streets in Woimar's industrial zone. There wasn't a living soul, just a few miserable faces on the sidewalk and the occasional vehicle crawling slowly through the intersections. The district's gray factories worked in silence, venting plumes of smoke from their pipes that turned into frost not long after spilling into the open air.
Jean tightened her shoulders. She wasn't used to this. Everywhere she worked crawled with people. She could deal with stations filled with scammers. But frozen ghost towns? That was another racket.
"I wonder why this isn't in the top ten tourist destinations," Amarel remarked.
Law snickered as he followed the directions on the holographic smartwatch map strapped to his wrist.
"Snow… Snow Claw… kinda redundant, y'know…"
"It's a nickname, it's a nickname. Do you think his men call him 'Lord Snow'?"
They laughed again.
Under their coats and heavy pants, the three wore thermal-insulation suits: specialized garments made of a material that covered the entire body except the nose and eyes (where a mask would be fitted later), rubbery on the outside and velvety on the inside. The suits had to be vacuum-sealed to the skin using dedicated suction tubes clipped to the back, so the fabric adhered completely.
Jean read somewhere that on Alay, the gear was non-negotiable: without it, unless you're not a local, your bodily fluids would freeze within about ten minutes of landing.
The planet was made up of five small continents, surrounded entirely by ice. According to studies, the ice came from ancient oceans, which had once made the planet's ecosystem hospitable to broad biodiversity. But at the end of the First Dominion, something happened that severely weakened Alay's core, dropping the planet's average temperature drastically and driving roughly 70% of its native species to extinction. The remaining 30% had to evolve thicker skin, bodily fluids with a lower freezing point, and other adaptations to avoid succumbing to the lethal cold.
That day, the weather was good, meaning no blizzards or hail were expected. High in the gray-blue sky, amid the clouds, the system's red sun could be glimpsed. It wasn't strong, and neither was the light it gave.
Well, thank god I never had work around here, Jean thought.
They kept walking for about thirty minutes until they reached the position marked on the smartwatch. At the edge of the district, set into an enormous wall of ice, stood a black manor. Despite its location, no crystals formed on its surface. Even humidity seemed to avoid its walls. There were no windows. The walls were smooth like metal, made of a black, granular material that seemed to drink in light like dry sand. Small incisions cut into the surface emitted a warm glow.
Fancy, Jean thought, a bit envious.
As the three drew closer, the semicircular gate at the center rotated and opened.
"Guess that's for us," Law said, and crossed the threshold, the others following. Inside, the temperature didn't change dramatically, but it rose by a few degrees.
Waiting at the foot of the stairs stood a butler of the S'Ari, humanoids with pale blue skin, pointed ears and teeth, and very light blue eyes with a glacial stare.
"You may remove your masks," he said.
Law, Jean, and Amarel took off their eye masks and lowered the hoods of their thermal suits so they could be seen.
Jean nodded, trying not to look embarrassed or out of place, which she was both.
The butler studied them for a few seconds, glanced at the tablet in his hand, looked back at them, and nodded.
"You may go up," he announced, stepping aside.
"You're not gonna check us?" Law asked as he started up the stairs.
Oh, that's true, Jean thought. A fancy place like this would surely have more security.
"The boss prefers that anyone interacting with him always has a way to react," the butler replied, walking away.
The three exchanged doubtful looks. Jean didn't mind keeping the small gun she bought behind Dad's back. But still…
"Is this normal?" She asked.
"Fuck do I know? It's my first time with blue-bloods too," Law replied.
Amarel shook his head. "She means in general, Law," he then turned to Jean. "It depends. Usually, the more high-end the place, the higher the security, indeed. But it's hard to tell how they think, here."
At the top of the stairs there was a platform that lifted them about twenty meters, opening into a large, well-furnished room. Guards stood motionless in the corners holding black rifles. In the middle was a long table with two dozen empty seats, except the one at the head. The boss was seated there, finishing his meal.
Jean opened her mouth to speak out of nervousness, but Amarel stopped her. Silence held for a good ten seconds, broken only by the occasional clink of cutlery against a plate. She breathed heavily, trying to hold in the anxiety. People usually talk during negotiations. Out loud, insulting each other, who cares?
Please, say something.
"You didn't tell me you had someone else in the group," said the man at the head of the table in a rough, low voice that was almost a whisper.
Fuck. Nevermind.
Law shrugged. "We found her on the way here. She's good."
Snow, the boss, stood. Unlike other members of his species, his skin was completely white. He was quite well-fed, but his demeanor made him seem almost weightless.
His black hair was slicked back, and he wore an elegant dark blue suit with a black foulard tucked at the jacket collar. The features of his bulky face were relatively young, but his skin was rough, almost weathered. His small light-blue eyes raked over the smugglers.
After a few seconds, he slid his gloved hands into his pockets. "I've asked specifically for you two. I don't know about her, who is she? Does she know what she's doing?"
"I just said that," Law replied, arms crossed.
Amarel cleared his throat and stepped forward. "With all due respect, sir… if you called us, that means you trust our skills, right?"
Snow nodded. "That's the idea, yeah."
"And our skills include our judgment."
The boss waved his hand. "Alright, forget about it, do it how you want it."
Jean looked at Amarel in front of her and smiled timidly. "Thanks," she whispered.
Amarel smiled back, brightly.
Snow motioned for them to come closer and walked toward a long couch positioned behind the table. "Come over here."
"Uh you could have saved us the trip, by the way," Law said, "the website, you could have put the task right there."
Snow shook his head. "Not for this contract. Even posting it would have been a risk."
In front of the couch was an interactive table whose screen displayed phrases, dates, and numbers that didn't seem to mean anything.
"Those are—"
"—Transactions," Amarel blurted.
Snow nodded. "They are."
"But between who?" Jean asked.
Snow unbuttoned his jacket before sitting down, and smiled almost imperceptibly. "House Algotheon and Futura Life."
Amarel and Jean went still. Law frowned. "The hell does that mean?"
"Someone inside the company let information slip about an agreement between the two. About a week ago. Apparently, the Algotheons placed an order for a shipment to Orenor."
"Their Seat-Planet," Jean murmured.
"That's why I didn't post anything on the site."
"Because the company would immediately notice a leak like that, cancel or reschedule the delivery, and make the whole thing useless," Amarel guessed.
"Bingo."
"Uh… do we know what the shipment contains?"Jean asked.
Snow nodded. "We do."
He tapped the table's touchscreen, which projected a cluster of twelve canisters.
"Krava milk," the boss said.
"Huh? The fuck is that?" Law mumbled.
"A very precious substance. We all know Corps got their secrets, but Futura Life took it a step further with this one: in the company's non-disclosure clauses, the planet the Krava come from is included."
Amarel whistled.
"Well, shit," Law commented.
"And… so…?" Jean asked, swallowing.
Snow raised his chin at her. "You got any second thoughts?"
"No. No. I'm asking."
"Good."
Snow tapped the table again and brought up a cargo ship's route. "In a week, the ship will depart for Orenor, Third Quadrant. In the document I'll send you now, all the gates it will use will be attached. Your gig is to intercept the cargo ship, obtain one canister of Krava milk, and bring it here."
All three fell silent.
"I'm sorry?" Amarel whispered after a moment.
Jean looked at her two companions, desperate. I thought we were doing smuggling, here. Not scores!
"Busting an agreement between the Corp that owns the Second Quadrant and one of the Nine. Sure. What could go wrong?" Law clicked his tongue.
"Why not—"
"A hundred million pods," Snow cut him off.
"…Okay, but still—"
"Each."
The three swallowed at the same time and stared at one another for a full ten seconds.
Holy shit. Jean gulped. She wasn't sure how to feel. It seemed out of place, as she was. Maybe too good to be true, but definitely too good to turn down.
"Well… I mean…"
"…If we're careful…"
"…Yeah, we do know what we're doing…"
They nodded in unison, thoughtful.
"One thing. Why?" Law asked.
Snow looked up at him, his expression somewhat irritated. "You sure ask a lot of questions."
Law lifted his hands. "I hear you, boss. Loud and motherfucking clear."
"That's good. Now go make some money."
—
"..."
They were already back aboard one of the regular line shuttlebuses that ran to the station just outside the industrial zone. They were already out of the atmosphere. Before anything, they needed to go back to K-7 for the sealed goods they left there.
Now that they'd left the planet, they could take off the thermal suits.
"Shit…"
"Yes, that sums it up," Amarel layed back. "We never did anything like this…"
Jean stayed silent, her knee going up and down.
"High risk, high reward."
"…A lot of e-books, a big, comfortable ship…"
"We get the ship first," Jean cut in. "Pulling this job off on public transport sounds kind of hard."
"We wouldn't be talking about it if someone hadn't wrecked the shuttle," Amarel replied, raising an eyebrow at Law.
Law grunted. "Man, you ain't gonna get this out of you for a while, ain't you?"
Amarel shrugged. "That being said, I already know who to flip the K-7 stuff to."
"Good," Law turned to Jean. "Yo, how you feeling?"
The woman chuckled. Honestly, it was already something crazy the moment she went with them in the first place. If it got crazier, it wouldn't matter, since it already got past the crazy-limit she set to herself. Crazy-debt only gets worse.
High, risk, high reward, that's right.
"Shouldn't be that hard," she said.
Law and Amarel scoffed. "Trying to sound all tough, now?"
She slowly shook her head. "But what is that thing, anyway? The milk."
Law scratched his chin. "Now that I think about it, I got a few ideas."
"For example?"
"I don't know, maybe it could turn him into a Transcendent."
Amarel tilted his head.
Jean furrowed her brows. "A Trancendent? Like those in the Guilds and the military?"
"And in the Houses, too."
"Why would he need powers?" Amarel asked.
"Fuck do I know?" Law lifted his shoulders. "Not our business. And it's just a theory, maybe it just gets you high as hell."
Jean remained perplexed, watching Law nonchalantly open his laptop.
"What are you checking?" She asked.
"Our profile on the website."
"Which website?"
"The one for hiring contracts, BreedOfUnderworld.gala."
"You connected to the bus's public network? Did the cold fry your brain?" Amarel snapped.
"Man, chill, I put on the hotspot," Law replied.
Amarel saw Jean's confusion. "The site let users post and accept contracts, and these contracts could contain any kind of request: smuggling, theft, murder, rescue, protection, and other things more… personal. The principle is the same as the IGO, where you could request a contract that a Guild would accept; but unlike that, BreedOfUnderworld.gala has no guidelines for contracts"
"And it's for sure not government approved," Law added.
"That's right. Have you considered changing your profile picture? And your username as well, while you're at it," Amarel commented beside him.
"The fuck you got against swords? They're tough," Law replied with a sulk. He genuinely seemed offended. "And 'The_Shifter' is tough too. In the working world, it's important to be clear," he declared, satisfied.
The ochre-haired guy turned to Jean, exasperated. The woman shrugged. Dumbasses.
All of a sudden, Law noticed a notification on the appropriate icon. "Oh. Another invite. Live convo."
"Another one?" Amarel opened the invite and read: "From a certain 'Corbin'… uh, okay… the date is twelve hours from now, and the attached location is…" Amarel stopped, incredulous.
"The Opulence Palace on Crestoria?"
"The fuck?!" Law's eyebrows shot up.
"Crestoria?!" Jean exclaimed. "'Crestoria' as in 'House Rouge's Seat-Planet'?!"