The yellow sun scorched the fields as it climbed toward midday.

  A farmer tipped his straw hat for shade while stacking bales of hay onto a hovering cart, strapping them neatly when the load was nearly full. He wiped sweat from his brow, glanced at the blazing sky, and moved to the front of the cart to head toward town.

  Just before he left, something caught his eye—a dark speck in the distance, growing fast.

  The speck became a ship, descending far too quickly.

  Engines screamed, thrusters flaring as it tried to steady itself. It managed one brief hover before crashing into the field ahead, kicking up a storm of dust and dirt.

  The farmer froze. Bandits? Escapees? Drunk pilots? He’d seen his share of all three in his years on this planet.

  The ship’s door hissed open. A large blue alien stepped out first, signaling to others inside. Several humans followed—dazed, some smiling weakly.

  Well, that’s a first, the farmer thought.

  The alien spoke to a young man near the ramp. They looked around, and then both turned their gaze toward him.

  Yep… my cue to leave, he decided, tugging at the reins to steer his cart toward town.

  But before he could, the pair closed the distance with alarming speed—the blue alien appearing beside him, the young man on the other side.

  “Excuse me, sir,” the young man said, polite but firm. “We’re looking for the nearest town. Could you tell us how far it is?”

  The farmer sighed and dropped the metallic reins. After a quick look at the blue alien, he answered,

  “The nearest city’s Daltin—about fifteen kilometers that way.” He pointed down the road.

  “This may sound strange,” the man added carefully, “but are there many guards there?”

  The farmer studied the group by the ship—ragged, thin, malnourished.

  “You won’t have trouble,” he said finally. “All kinds pass through Daltin. This is the Rotgon system, after all.”

  “One last favor,” the young man said, smiling faintly. “Could you give us a ride?”

  The farmer sighed louder than before. “Fine. Hop on.”

  Jason waved to the others. They approached slowly, worn from everything they’d endured. One by one they climbed onto the cart; Tahuuk walked alongside while Jason took a seat next to the farmer.

  “Alright, we’re ready,” Jason said with a smile.

  The farmer eyed him, unimpressed, then muttered, “Fine…” and nudged the cart forward. The vehicle hummed to life, gliding across the dusty road.

  Clouds gathered over a distant hill, and a light breeze stirred the trees. Other farmers worked their fields as they passed.

  Hours later, traffic thickened—farmers, cloaked travelers, armed escorts, families, and traders hauling heavy packs, a mix of humans and aliens alike, some species that made even Tahuuk blend in. The road led toward civilization.

  The sun dipped lower, glowing orange ahead of them, when the light suddenly dimmed.

  They had entered the shadow of a wall. Daltion loomed before them—a massive gate rising a dozen meters high, its metal doors pulled upward while lines of people waited to enter. Guards checked each group in turn.

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  “Don’t worry,” the farmer said, catching Jason’s wary glance. “They’re just guiding people through. City’s big—you could get lost easy.”

  Jason’s worry faded to awe. How big is this place? he wondered.

  This was the first true city he had ever seen—a merchant hub alive with color and motion.

  After twenty minutes in line, it was their turn.

  One guard eyed the cart, then the farmer. “Ludwig, new shipment? Alright, you know where to go.” His attention shifted to the passengers. “And you folks?”

  “We don’t have many credits,” Jason said carefully, “but we’re looking for a place to stay.”

  The guard’s gaze lingered on Tahuuk before nodding. “There’s an inn a few blocks to the right from the main fountain. Might not have enough rooms for all of you, but it’s your best shot.”

  “Thanks,” Jason said with a polite smile.

  “No problem,” the guard replied, waving them through.

  The cart rolled under the gate and stopped near the fountain—a sprawling plaza where people bartered, fetched water, and laughed.

  “This is my stop,” Ludwig said. “You’re on your own from here.”

  Jason nodded and signaled the others to dismount. Tahuuk helped those too weak to stand.

  “Thanks for the help, Ludwig,” Jason said.

  The farmer only tipped his hat and steered the cart down a side street until he vanished in the crowd.

  Jason watched him go, then turned to his group. “Let’s find that inn.”

  They followed the guard’s directions. After a few wrong turns and quick questions to locals, they reached a modest building. Not high-tech, but clean and welcoming—the kind of place that reminded Jason faintly of the Whispering Night.

  Inside, chatter quieted when Tahuuk entered. Jason could see it in their eyes: trouble. He ignored the stares and approached the counter.

  A woman appeared from behind the desk. “What’ll it be, sir?” she asked, glancing again at Tahuuk.

  “We’d like a couple of rooms for our people, if that’s possible,” Jason said.

  She frowned. “We don’t have many left, but if you can fit into two, it’ll work.”

  “That’s perfect. Two rooms for five days.” Jason motioned to one of the former prisoners, who placed a credit slab on the counter. “Take it from this.”

  The woman examined it. “Old unit,” she muttered, scanning it several times until the reader chimed. “Alright—worked in the end. Second floor, here are your keys.”

  The group headed upstairs and gathered in one of the rooms first. Jason stood near the door, waiting until everyone settled.

  “We’ve still got some credits,” he began, “but they won’t last long. We’ll need to find work. Does anyone have a trade they can use here?”

  They exchanged uncertain glances before voices rose one by one.

  “I can farm,” someone said.

  “Same here,” another added.

  A few mentioned metalwork; one or two had run shops before.

  The talk shifted naturally toward the future. They agreed to look for work over the next few days, to blend in and start new lives here—quietly, under the Empire’s radar.

  When the discussion wound down, Tahuuk caught Jason’s eye. “And us?” he asked.

  Jason exhaled. “Not sure. I’d say we’re above average here when it comes to fighting. Maybe the innkeeper can point us in the right direction.”

  Tahuuk nodded, the unspoken agreement passing easily between them.

  After dividing the group evenly between the two rooms, Jason and Tahuuk headed back downstairs toward the innkeeper.

  “Say,” Jason said, leaning forward, “we’re looking for work. We’re decent fighters. You know anyone who needs that kind of help?”

  The woman smirked. “You don’t say. There’s a mercenary guild a few blocks over. They hire for all sorts of jobs—some under the table.”

  She lowered her voice. “Get a name for yourself, and clients might start calling for you personally. Like the Grey Sight Mercenary Group.”

  Jason’s expression tightened. Grey Sight…

  The same they’d fought in the arena. Looks like there might be trouble.