Chapter 3

The thrum of Draven's ship, the Silhouette, was a steady undercurrent to the tension coiled within its walls. Agent X kept her eyes fixed on the shimmering metallic landscape of Korva's Forge as it filled the viewport. The largest moon loomed ahead, its surface a patchwork of industrial complexes and the glittering scars of mining operations, all orbiting the gas giant Titanus like moths circling a flame.

"Korva's Forge," Draven announced, his voice a calm timbre against the hum of engines. "Not the prettiest dame at the ball, but she's got resources in spades."

Rhea, seated adjacent to Liora, arched an eyebrow, her skepticism palpable. "And you're certain Van Meijer will talk?" she asked, her tone laced with doubt that didn't need the accompaniment of words.

"Meijer owes me," Draven replied, but Liora caught the flicker of something unreadable in his grey eyes—a shadow of a past transaction or perhaps a debt of another kind.

"Your hunches better have substance, Korr," Liora said, her voice devoid of warmth. She wasn’t in the mood for games or gambles—not with the Syndicate tightening its grip on the Assembly’s throat.

"Trust me, I've got—"

"Save it," Liora cut in. Her long blond hair swung as she turned to face him, green eyes hard as emerald. "What's this about you and Prince Arion? Why did he say you did something to his family?”

Draven waved off the question. “I didn’t do a damned thing to his family,” he snapped. Catching the hard, cold look in Liora’s eyes, he shifted in his seat and changed to a more conciliatory tone. “Though I might have done something to…” Draven’s voice trailed off to almost a whisper. “His sister.”

"Princess Atheris?" Rhea piped up, her curiosity getting the best of her. “What happened?”

"Let's just say, royal beds are thorny," Draven quipped before his expression sobered. "We had a thing, Atheris and I. Short-lived. Foolish."

"Thing?" Liora's voice could've frozen nitrogen. "You jeopardized interstellar alliances for a romp with a royal?"

Rhea interrupted, perplexed. "How could a fling lead to a practical death sentence?”

"King Avidor arranged a marriage between his daughter and Duke Phleben of Gorix. Royal marriages typically come with expectations" —Liora's gaze was steely as she spelled it out— "of a virgin bride. No virgin, no marriage. No marriage, goodbye to Gorix's astatine reserves."

"Elarians hold grudges like they're family heirlooms," Draven added with a grimace. "And they'd rather spill blood than lose face."

"Great," Liora muttered, her thoughts dark as the space outside. "As if we don’t have enough to deal with."

"Hey, every cloud..." Draven started, but he trailed off under Liora's glare.

"Save your proverbs, Romeo." Liora stood, ready to face whatever Korva's Forge had to throw at them, her body language screaming readiness for the fray. "Let's just get this done."

Draven nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the storm that brewed beyond the Silhouette's hull—the storm they were flying straight into.

The hum of the Silhouette's engines settled into a begrudging silence as they entered the orbit of Korva's Forge. Draven Korr, crammed in the pilot's seat of his Valkyrie-class ship, felt the familiar twitch of annoyance when the comms crackled to life with the tinny voice of customs control.

"Transport Silhouette, you are flagged for contraband. Prepare to be boarded."

"Dammit," Draven muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. He had completely forgotten about the cases of Stenokorian wine stashed beneath the floor panels—remnants of a job he'd taken on the sly. The stuff was worth more credits than most people on Korva’s Forge saw in a year, and now it would end up as some bureaucrat's bonus.

"Understood, Control," Draven replied with calculated calm. "Standing by for your welcome party."

Liora's tone grew stern. "We can't afford delays. We have a mission."

"I'll handle it."

"Care to share the plan?" Rhea asked.

Draven flashed an enigmatic grin. "I know a guy."

As the ship docked, a cadre of uniformed officers swarmed aboard with all the grace of a pack of street thugs. They made quick work of his cargo bay, their scanners beeping triumphantly as they uncovered his illicit stash.

"Korr, you are under arrest. Your ship is impounded," declared the lead officer, a smug satisfaction oozing from his every pore.

"Right," Draven sighed, knowing full well that any protest would be as useful as a chocolate teapot. "Just watch the paintwork, eh?"

He stepped off the Silhouette, hands raised in mock surrender, and the biting chill of Korva's Forge greeted him like a slap in the face. It wasn't long before Piers Van Meijer ambled over, his rugged, lawman's frame cutting through the throng of customs agents.

"Draven, you old scoundrel," Piers chuckled, the sound echoing off the metal hangar walls. "Hauling vintage vino now? Quite the connoisseur you've become."

"Would've been nice if you'd tipped me off, Chief Inspector," Draven shot back, his grey eyes flickering with irritation. "Could've saved us both this charming little rendezvous."

"Generosity has its limits," Piers quipped, clapping a heavy hand on Draven's shoulder. "Besides, I can't have you thinking you've got carte blanche around here."

"Guess I'll drink to that when I'm out," Draven retorted, watching the last case of wine carried away to the contraband storage zone.

Draven's smirk soured as he gestured towards his companions, "Piers Van Meijer, meet the infamous Agent X, and Rhea Morgan, her—” He glanced at Rhea with a puzzled look. “What are you, exactly? Assistant, sidekick?"

“Partner in crime,” Rhea replied, with a cold smile.

"Agent X," Piers tipped an imaginary hat with a grin that didn't quite reach his wary eyes. "The honor's mine. And Rhea, welcome to Korva's Forge."

"Charmed," Liora said flatly, her gaze sweeping the spaceport landing pad for any signs of trouble.

The aging inspector invited the team to follow him to his spartan office. As Piers and Draven settled into office chairs, Liora and Rhea scanned the barebones interior of the office with uneasy expressions, like a searchlight for sincerity.

"Let's cut through the pleasantries," Agent X interjected, her voice sharp as a scalpel. "We've got Syndicate shadows tailing our every move. Our little dance on Aridia? Came up empty."

Piers leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, the creak of aged leather filling the silence. "Wish I could help, but my hands are tied tighter than an Elarian knot."

"Come on, Piers." Draven's tone held a note of camaraderie as he leaned against the steel desk. "You owe me. Remember the Black Nebula sting? You'd still be scratching your head over that one if it weren't for me."

"Draven, you can charm the stars from the sky, but—" Piers began, then sighed, deflating like a punctured hull. "Alright, fine. The Syndicate's got their claws in a secure communications facility on Kryos. But that's all I know, and all I can say."

"Kryos," Liora repeated, her voice steely resolve wrapped in velvet. "Thank you, Piers. That's a start."

"Alright, Draven," Piers grumbled, flipping through the digital paperwork on his slate. His fingers left smudges on the screen, each one a begrudging stroke of freedom. "You're off the hook. The Assembly's got bigger fish to fry than a smuggler with a penchant for pricey booze."

Draven leaned back in his chair, a wolfish grin spreading across his stubbled face. "And my wine?"

"Consider it a favor," Piers said, the corners of his mouth twitching upward for a fleeting moment. "I'll snag you a case from the impound—on one condition. I keep a case for... official use."

"Deal," Draven agreed without hesitation, rising from his seat with the fluid grace of a panther. His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Just make sure it's not the one that bites, huh?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Piers shot back, but his heart wasn't in the banter.

The group stood, gathering their sparse belongings. As they headed out, the corridor's dim lights cast long shadows against the cold metal walls, a stark reminder of the Forge’s unwelcoming embrace.

Just as they were about to clear customs, the calm was shattered by a deafening blast. The ground bucked underfoot like a wild steed. A plume of smoke mushroomed from the contraband cargo storage compound, and panic spread through the crowd like wildfire.

"Korva's kiss!" Piers cursed, springing into action with a spryness belying his rugged exterior. He squinted into the smog-laden air, his lawman instincts kicking in. “Draven, I think your wine just exploded!”

"Possibly," Draven replied, gravely. “If there’s any left, keep it.” he quipped, cocking an eyebrow at the chaos unfurling before them. His voice was calm, almost amused amidst the bedlam.

"Dammit, Draven," Piers spat, his blue eyes flaring with urgency as he keyed his comm. "I gotta go. Stay out of trouble, will ya? " With that, he disappeared into the fray, the authority in his stride barking orders louder than his voice ever could.

"If I had a credit for every time someone told me that..." Draven mused, watching the frenzied scene unfold.

With a smirk, Agent X finished the thought for him. "...you wouldn't have to smuggle wine."