Ealnem observes the course the ship’s AI has plotted for Ratst. They’re closing in on it. One could measure the amount of time it’ll take for them to get there, but one could make better use of their mental energy. Such as Ealnem, thinking about how she should wake the bounty hunter; asleep in her chair. 

‘She’d rather sleep in a chair than share a bed with me,’ the Nogailma thought. 

Though she tries not to take it personally, she can’t help but feel a small sting of pain. It’s lessened by the knowledge that Zenith chose to make herself less uncomfortable, a positive thing given her personality; but it still hurts somewhat. 

“Zenith,” the ship’s AI announces “we’re nearing our destination.”

Zenith, ever vigilant, jumps from her chair. Then she notices Ealnem standing next to her. The famous bounty hunter lets out a shriek of surprise. She regains her composure quickly but the sight of her surprised face will last forever in Ealnem’s mind. 

The human clears her throat, 

“Oh, ma’- Ealnem, I was just uh, I was…” she tries to fib but it’s clearly not her area of expertise. “Checking…our…course.” The look on her face signals that she doesn’t believe herself. 

“Uh huh,” Ealnem says. 

“Okay, that was a lie, I was just too nervous. Sorry.”

The small sting Ealnem feels suddenly turns into a deeper guilt. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she dismisses. Part of her wants to press the issue further, but she remembers that she’s the guest here. It’s better to not create a problem where there doesn't need to be. 

Zenith rubs the sleep out of her eyes, and Ealnem can’t help but think it’s one of the cutest things humans do. 

“Orion,” Zenith says with a yawn “take us out of UltraDrive and hail the orbital traffic commander.” 

“Understood.”

“You might wanna sit down and strap in, Ealnem. This ship ain’t got top-of-the-line gravity compensators.”

She obliges, taking the hardly ever used co-pilot's chair. The seat adjusts to fit the physiology of the Nogailma. Getting wider and longer for her. 

“Exiting UltraDrive in 5…4…3…2…1,” Orion says. 

Dropping out of UltraDrive is a jerking sensation that shakes your bones or any species equivalent. The blur of distant stars being passed by is gone from the front window. Now the planet Ratst dominates the horizon of the duo. 

“Opening communication,” Orion announces. 

Ealnem unbuckles herself from the seat. Her body trembles as she tries to stand. 

“Warned ya,” Zenith says. The orbital traffic control commander answers the call with,

“Hello?” 

“Hello, Zenith Gee of Orion’s Dancer, requesting permission to land.”

“Understood,” the traffic commander replies, bored. Dealing with thousands of these requests every rotation drains the interest of any being, even upon hearing from a famous bounty hunter. “Head to the following coordinates.”

“Understood,” Zenith says. The coordinates are sent to Orion. 

 “Descending.” The ship says as it rumbles. The heat shield activates as they enter the atmosphere. 

Once they make it through the hottest layer the heat shield turns off and the planet comes into view once again. 

Ratst, as a planet, is in a prime spot for various trade routes and between four major colonized star systems. But the composition of its crust makes it impossible to build tall buildings, mine any valuable resources, or perform any terraforming. 

The vast majority of the planet is made of a crystalline structure much denser and far harder than diamond. Many megacorporations have tried and failed to make a dent in the crystal. Some going as far as to detonate nuclear weapons on empty plains. 

None succeeded. 

Unable to dot the horizon with their trademark skyscrapers, the various megacorporations left the planet to its own devices. Making it appealing to those inclined to lawlessness. 

The pink-bluish shine the crystal has is in harsh contrast to the licentious nature of the planet. 

As Orion’s Dancer descends further, one can see that the planet isn’t desolate. Smaller corporations have smattered the landscape with prepackaged buildings, held in place by gravity generators or by their own weight. The planet has a radius of approximately 2,800 miles, leaving it with weak natural gravity, and a thin atmosphere. It is with the aid of machinery both on the planet and in orbit that the atmosphere can maintain the pressure needed for most species to breathe. 

Orion’s Dancer makes its way to a landing area of the largest town, a few dozen other ships are there as well. 

The bounty hunter’s ship groans as it lands, in need of new hydraulic fluid. 

“Atmospheric scans read planetary oxygen amount to be 19.8%,” Orion announces. 

“How are the shield cells?” Zenith asks. 

“The plasma and kinetic shield cells are operational,” Orion answers. 

“Expecting a fight?” Ealnem asks the human. 

“Folks set in bad ways tend to attract rough friends. They usually don’t take kindly to me apprehending their buddy. I learned that the hard way. Best to have a shield, ‘specially when you have a target on your back.” 

The bounty hunter pulls her hair back into a ponytail. 

“If Lex is here, he might’ve made friends.”

“I’m sure everyone else on this planet ain’t too fond of bounty hunters either,” Ealnem points out. 

Zenith freezes for a moment like the thought hadn’t occurred to her. 

“That’s…a valid concern.”

Ealnem makes a mental note that Zenith doesn’t consider certain obvious things. 

“Still, I’m sure there are kind folk here; no group of beings is a monolith, there is always an alterity,” the bounty hunter says, almost rehearsed. “That’s what my grandpa always said,” she then adds. 

“What about the hive mind Glbeam of Sropt?” Ealnem counters. 

“Even they have their exceptions. But, we can talk about that later. For now, we gotta focus on Lex. Orion, how far are we from that settlement I saw on our descent?” She asks the AI. 

“Roughly 5 miles,” Orion answers. “The crystalline structure of the planet prevents me from getting more accurate readings.” 

“Sounds like we’re riding there. You ever been on a S.T.E.E.R before?” Zenith asks. 

“Can’t say I have.” 

“First time for everything.” 

Zenith picks up her hat, and Ealnem notices a silver metallic patch on the underside of it. 

Curiosity gets the better of her and she asks,

“What’s on your hat?”

“It’s a custom-made magnet. It’s paired with the subdermal implant in my hand.” She demonstrates by putting her hat down and taking a few steps back. She flexes her hand and the hat flies to her palm. 

The magnet was composed in such a way that it is only attracted to the one in Zenith’s hand. The subdermal one only becomes magnetized with a minor amount of bioelectricity. 

Ealnem knows that such an implant isn’t cheap, not that she thinks the bounty hunter is financially strained; but she finds it strange she would choose to pair her hat over her guns. 

With her headwear on Zenith gets fully dressed, slipping her boots on, faded duster, a few gadgets in the pockets, and her bounty hunter badge. 

Ealnem likewise gets dressed, to the extent she cares to, in a loose white linen shirt and pants. She’d rather forego clothing entirely, but her iridescent fur might blend in with the crystal landscape. 

The bounty hunter hands Ealnem a communicator, a sleek silver device that goes around a wrist or any species equivalent. Ealnem is curious as to why she has two when she works alone. But the question doesn’t get voiced as she puts it on her left upper arm.  

Zenith grabs her ammo belt and twin pistols, performs a check, and loads them quickly. She goes to the engine room and pulls a brown crate over to the boarding ramp. The bounty hunter taps a switch on the crate with her foot. 

The crate starts unfolding and assembling itself. 

On some planets, where there are artificial gravity machines there are cases in which the natural gravity clashes against it. This causes sudden shifts in an area, they can vary in strength, some only move pebbles, and others can lift entire beings into the atmosphere. 

To circumvent this the S.T.E.E.R was invented. Standing for Stable Terrain Expeditious Exploration Rig it produces intense, focused blasts of gravity, overpowering any and all gravity on whatever cosmic body the user may find themselves. A reliable means of travel, a S.T.E.E.R. also allows for more customization than your standard hover vehicle. Though not as fast or protective, they remain a popular choice for the more adventurous beings. 

Zenith’s S.T.E.E.R is a matte brown with black blemishes one might mistake for cosmetic spots but are actually signs of the many gunfights the bounty hunter’s been in. Bullet and laser marks have scarred the rig, but it has not been humbled. It operates at the same efficiency as the day it was built. 

The gravity engine that powers the device lifts the metal rig that users sit on into the air. It’s made of an alloy primarily composed of tungsten, dense enough to withstand the constant gravity manipulation happening underneath it. 

Some say the energy of the engine is a bluish kind of light, others say purplish, and a few have noted a sort of yellow color. In truth, the energy is invisible to almost every known species, and it’s merely the subconscious mind filling in the blank. Zenith in particular thinks the energy is purplish.

The rig itself is a flexible exoskeleton to allow the user to turn at a moment's notice. A long horizontal area with a saddle for the user, and a diagonal section that orients which direction the user is going in. There’s an enclosed area that houses the computational components of the device. It holds an array of sensors, mostly used to determine the gravitational output, but can be customized to fit whatever needs the user has. Functioning as the brain, it is the most vulnerable part of the S.T.E.E.R and the most protected; encased in thick metal and comes standard with several redundant failsafes. 

If one was familiar with the natural fauna of Earth one could say that S.T.E.E.R’s look like a robotic skeleton horse. But neither Zenith nor Ealnem have ever seen a horse, so the comparison doesn’t form in their minds. 

When the S.T.E.E.R is fully assembled it floats three feet in the air. 

The bounty hunter introduces the rig,

“Ealnem, meet Xenon. Xenon, this is Ealnem.” 

The S.T.E.E.R, lacking artificial intelligence, simply scans her, adjusts for the additional weight, and registers the new user with a beep.

Zenith steps up onto a rung and lifts herself up on the saddle. She then offers a hand to Ealnem.

“Ma’am,” she says. The Nogailma hardly needs it, being tall enough to climb aboard. But she takes her hand anyway.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Ealnem says as she hops up on the S.T.E.E.R. 

“Sorry, force of habit when I’m talking to a pretty lady.”

“I’m already helping you, no need for flattery.”

“My grandpa always used to say, “it ain’t flattery if it’s the truth.” Just statin’ the facts.”

The bounty hunter takes hold of the handles that protrude from the ‘neck’ of the rig. 

“Orion, lower the ramp.” 

The ship obliges, lowering the entryway with a prolonged groan. 

“I really have to get that fixed,” Zenith says to herself. To her companion, she says, “hold on tight.”

Though it was by her request, when Ealnem wraps all four of her arms around her waist, Zenith feels her heart skip a beat. 

She clears her throat and urges the S.T.E.E.R forward to the pink-blue crystal landscape before them. 

The blasts of the gravity engine happen at steady intervals to keep the rig balanced. There’s a pattern or rhythm to it that one can’t help but notice. 

They gallop in silence; Zenith because she’s nervous at all the physical contact she’s receiving, and wants to concentrate on riding. Ealnem is quiet because dust keeps flying into her large eyes and mouth. 

The duo close in on the settlement. The sounds of life ring out in an otherwise sterile and silent horizon. 

They attract many looks as they enter the town, and Zenith is acutely aware of the eyes on her. Though not the reasons behind them. Most look on in awe and anxiety at the famous bounty hunter. Others with trepidation because of what her presence here means. 

The duo rides to what serves as a sort of traffic control center but functions more like a saloon. The machines that log entries and departures require minimal input and aren’t often used, freeing the use of the building for less governmental purposes. 

Zenith ‘parks’ her S.T.E.E.R to a post out front. 

“I’ll go in and ask if Lex's ship has been here. Shouldn’t take more than a few moments,” the bounty hunter says. 

“I’ll stay here, see what I can find,” Ealnem offers. Zenith nods and heads inside. 

Though Ealnem chose to stay outside, she isn’t sure what she should look for. Her former occupation was perfectly legal so the criminal element isn’t one she really ever interacted with. 

The populace goes about their business, some few momentarily glance at the Nogailma on the S.T.E.E.R. Others purposefully avoid looking. Suspicious, but innocuous enough.

Ealnem looks around, sondering about the people she sees. 

‘They can’t all be criminals, can they?’ She thought to herself. ‘Surely some of them are here for reasons beyond escaping the law.’ 

Her eyes, a purple-pinkish hue, comb over the landscape searching for anything askew, not entirely sure what she’s looking for. 

The buildings are somewhat worn down by the elements. They vary from standard businesses to basic housing. 

Ealnem hoped that she can tap into her predatory instincts to help find the man they’re after, but nothing seems to click. 

“Well,” Zenith starts off as she comes back out. “Lex’s registered ship hasn’t landed here, so he’s definitely on this planet.”

Ealnem looks at the human for a further explanation. 

“Some time back, I reckon Lex traded ships with a fella, not sure if it was monetary or coerced, but the fact is he’s been going to more populated planets. Making other bounty hunters chase a vapor trail that ain’t there. He’s looking to lie low while his ship grabs attention on more surveilled planets. The ship I’ve been tracking has been on planets with less than seven million folks, but only there for a rotation or two. You confirmed back on Era that I’ve been chasing the right ship, that ship has landed here and hasn’t left yet, so he must be here.”

“That’s sound logic,” Ealnem comments. She remembers that despite her few eccentricities, Zenith has earned her pristine reputation as a bounty hunter. 

“He’s picked an interesting place to lay low,” Ealnem says. “It’s not deserted, but close enough to major systems if he needs to split.”

“If he’s here he won’t get the chance,” Zenith says. There isn’t an iota of overconfidence in her voice, she says it as a fact. 

She intends for this planet to be the end of his reign of terror.

“Time to get to work,” Zenith offers a six-fingered hand to the Nogailma. Again, not necessary, since she can easily climb on and off the S.T.E.E.R.

She accepts it all the same. 

Pt. 1 End