Sheah cleared away the pile of loose candy wrappers and newspapers littering the kitchen table of Tycho’s ramshackle apartment. With the surface nice and tidy, she unfurled a small, profile-view blueprint of the Redland Runner and placed it down over the center of the tabletop. The rest of the team intently gathered around the print.

  “Okay crew,” Sheah announced. “Here we have the specifications for the Redland Runner—Zuferra Model, one of our finest.”

  “Do you always carry that around with you?” asked Kaelis.

  “Of course. Now—” Sheah directed her finger towards the top half of the ship. “According to what we have observed, there are always two guards positioned on the platform, plus one on the ship’s deck, as well as countless workers and agents prowling the dockyards. Given this scenario, any direct attempt to access the interior would be a fool’s errand.”

  Kaelis fiddled with one of her earrings as she studied the print. “So how are we supposed to get inside if we can’t go through the top?”

  “Here—” said Dez, pointing towards the cargo door at the ship’s lower stern. “We get in through the cargo hold. We can access the exterior controls easy enough, but the real trick is gonna be the ruckus.”

  “Hm,” Jira noted in agreement.

  Kaelis raised an eyebrow. “Ruckus?”

  “We activate the door, it’s gonna start a whole mess o’ noise,” replied Dez. “And the emergency lights is gonna go off too.”

  “Lights? Who decided that was a good idea?”

  “It’s a safety feature!” Sheah asserted.

  Dez stroked his mustache. “We’re gonna need to time it just right. All we need’s a couple seconds to jut the door open enough to slip in.”

  “Perhaps a distraction?” Sheah suggested. “We construct a commotion to keep the eyes and ears of the guards away from the ship.”

  “Okay, but how are we gonna do that without getting caught?” asked Kaelis.

  Sheah tapped her cheek in thought. “I suppose we will just have to figure something out.”

  Wham!—The door to the apartment burst open with a loud bang. The team reeled, startled by the sudden clatter. “Good morning, my songbirds!” chirped Tycho as he flung himself into the room, the morning paper tucked under his arm.

  “Oh, Tycho,” breathed Dez as he and the crew relaxed. “You scared the lights out of me.”

  “A good entrance should elicit emotion!” Tycho declared. “How goes your little scheme?”

  “It’s comin’ along.”

  Tycho unsheathed the newspaper from under his arm. “I found this along my travels. It would appear as though there is a mark of history upon this day!” He exuberantly tossed the paper onto the table.

  Dez leaned in and read the headline aloud. “‘Farren Rhane Conquers the Crown’...”

  “What?!” shouted Kaelis, crashing her palms onto the tabletop. “Are people still talking about that hack?”

  “What is your issue with this man?” probed Sheah. “Do you know him?”

  Kaelis lifted her head indignantly. “It’s nothing! I don’t care!”

  “No, no,” said Tycho. “Not Agent Rhane, dashing as he may be. Behold: the reverse side.” He flipped over the paper, revealing the banner headline. Written across the page in splashy, bold lettering was: ‘Verloren Industries Announces Ama-Lasria Expedition’.

  “Hm,” grunted Jira as she picked up the paper.

  Sheah grabbed her glasses before they could slip off her nose. “Oh my.”

  “Well, at least that confirms what we was speculatin’,” said Dez.

  Sheah grew serious. “So they really are going for it?”

  “And they also really are coming to kill us for the journal,” Kaelis chimed in. “Gods, I can't believe how fast they’re moving on this. You’d figure the company would at least wait ‘til they actually had the damn map before launching their big expedition.”

  Dez shook his head. “It’s classic Verloren, what it is. Always rushin’ into things, thinkin’ they can just brute force their way through any problems.”

  “Indeed,” said Sheah. “Knowing Aurik Metzer, I suspect he believes he can accomplish all things at once. And the longer we prove him wrong, the greater his wrath will grow. Very soon there will be far more than a few agents hunting us. Which is why it is imperative that we reclaim the Redland Runner and disappear into the north before their full armada has time to mobilize. When does it say the expedition is launching?”

  “Two days,” said Jira, scanning the article.

  “I see. Then we must leave tonight,” Sheah decided. “Yes, we shall strike at twilight, when it is dark enough to move covertly, yet before the drawbridge is raised.”

  “That’s a tight window,” said Dez.

  “I understand, but it is our safest option.”

  “Bold times require bold actions!” Tycho pontificated. “Tell me, what is the plot?”

  Kaelis pointed to the blueprints. “We’re gonna cause a distraction and sneak in through the cargo door.”

  “Oh, I simply live for distraction!” Tycho made a broad hand gesture. A small, gold lighter appeared in his hand like magic. He ignited the flame and waved it in front of Kaelis’s face.

  “Uhh, what’s happening?” she asked, mesmerized by the fire. With a flick of the wrist Tycho’s lighter disappeared, replaced in his hand by a colorful paper flower. He handed it to Kaelis, who clapped and took it with utter delight.

  “You must let me accompany you,” Tycho implored the group.

  Kaelis giggled girlishly at the trick. “Oh, haha, maybe…”

  “You would not regret it! Oh, and Captain—” Tycho unveiled a thin leather wallet from his hands with a flourish. “Your coin purse.”

  Jira patted herself down, only to realize Tycho had lifted it from her during his distraction. “Eiz!” she growled, snatching her wallet from his hands. “You xoratan worm—”

  “I implore you!” said Tycho, thrusting a dramatic finger into the air. “A heist of this nature demands a thief!”

  Sheah happily nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Soelva. Your aid would be most welcome.”

  “Wonderful…” grumbled Jira.

  Tycho performed a deep bow. “I shall use my powers of deception to invade their very ranks. None will suspect that a guard among them is actually Tycho Soelva: Master Thief.”

  “How you gonna pass as a guard?” asked Kaelis as she placed the flower in her hair.

  “I know a good lad in the Verloren textile warehouse. Acquiring a uniform is but a trifling matter.”

  Sheah clasped her hands together approvingly. “I for one think it is a capital notion.”

  “Okay, so—” began Dez, looking towards his teammates. “We sneak in through the cargo bay, I man the engines, Jira takes the helm, and before anyone has a chance to tie their shoes we’ll be across the drawbridge and outta the city.”

  “Uh, aren’t we forgetting something?” said Kaelis. “We’re not goin’ anywhere with that boot clamped on the wheel.”

  “Correct,” said Sheah, bowing her head ponderously. “Removing it will have to be our first order of business.”

  “Me and the Captain can handle it.” Kaelis grinned broadly at Jira. “Ain’t that right Captain Sirroza? Just a couple of tough-as-nails adventurers getting into all sorts of scrapes. Jira the Knife and Kaelis Vintra, saving our ship, taking on the world. No, let’s go with ‘Fearless’ Vintra. Yeah…”

  Jira did her best to ignore her.

  “Actually, Kaelis, you will be with me on loot duty,” said Sheah.

  “What?!”

  “We must get these goods fenced,” she said, gesturing to the two bags stuffed with loot lodged beside her feet. “We will need the funds to stock up at an outpost if we wish to make it past the Forever Storm.”

  “What’s this madness I hear?” fluttered Tycho. “Going all the way up?”

  Dez waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Kaelis pouted, folding her arms.

  “Too bad.” Jira picked up a bag and tossed it at Kaelis, who awkwardly caught it at the last second.

  Sheah raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Nobody here knows more about history than you. I am sure you’ll be able to get some good deals with your impressive knowledge base.”

  “Fine, whatever,” submitted Kaelis, ever so slightly buttered up.

  Sheah slung the remaining bag across her torso. “We split up, and hit as many different brokerages as we can in order to best avoid suspicion.”

  “And whilst you are occupied, I shall join Dez and Jira in freeing the ship from its shackles!” announced Tycho.

  “Excuse me?” glowered Jira.

  “It will be a marvelous experience!”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Sheah threw Jira a beseeching look. “Please Captain, we need the aid.”

  Jira mulled it over, furrowing her brow. “Okay,” she finally agreed. “But I don’t want to hear you, and I don’t want to see you. We clear?”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Tycho pawed his hand at her. “Oh, you’re such a tease!”

  Jira scowled.

  Dez took a step back from the table, running his fingers through his hair. “You think we might be taking things to a bit of an extreme here?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Sheah.

  Dez rubbed his hands together anxiously. “…Let me just talk to the Union. We ain’t friendless, we might still be able to solve this thing without resortin’ to theft and violence.”

  Kaelis raised her brows, unconvinced. “You really think that’ll work?”

  “I think it could, yeah.”

  “Then I suppose it is worth a shot,” said Sheah, trusting Dez’s judgment. “But please, keep your head down. We cannot lose you.”

  Dez gave her a small salute. “You can count on me, Ms. Ziedler.”

  Sheah scooped up her blueprints and gingerly folded them back down to a portable size. “Is everyone clear on their assignments?” she asked towards the group. She was met with looks of staunch readiness. “Good. We shall reconvene at the alleyway adjacent to the southern platform at 17:00. That should give us more than enough time to accomplish our individual goals. Until then, good luck.”

  With that, the team said their farewells and disbanded from the table. One by one, they shuffled out of the apartment and set off to accomplish their stated tasks.

  Kaelis followed closely behind Sheah, bringing up the rear. As the pair made for the door, the view from the window arrested their attention. They slowed, drawn in by the mass of viridian landships swarming the docks below. Somehow, seemingly overnight, the number of Verloren ships had almost doubled. They watched anxiously as more and more corporate vessels lumbered into port, slowly eclipsing the small, red landship that sat between them.

  Sheah turned to face Kaelis, noticing her usual boisterous confidence gradually waning.

  “We will make it,” she soothed with a forced smile.

  “Huh?” said Kaelis, shaken from her daze. “Oh, yeah. We got this…”

  “Come. We should make haste.” Sheah made for the door.

  With a silent nod, Kaelis joined her companion. Together the two crossed into the hall and went their separate ways, both of them trying their best to ignore the distinct possibility that this could very well be their last day alive on this earth.

  Rhane’s one-man landship trundled into the Bruckhaven docks and simmered to a gentle stop. He hopped from the driver’s seat and planted his feet onto the platform, taking in the morning sunshine and the bustling world around him. The docks were in a state of utter pandemonium—Verloren workers, suddenly given two days to prepare for the biggest expedition ever attempted by man, rushed to and fro in a tizzy, moving munitions, stacking cargo, and barking orders at each other with abandon. Rhane loved every second of it. After days of isolation driving in from the wasteland, the high levels of energy were a welcome change of pace.

  Rhane locked up his ship and strolled down the platform towards the terminal. The crowd flowed around him like a river. Occasionally a worker or traveler would pause as he walked by, momentarily halted by his presence. More and more people were starting to recognize him now—he was practically famous! With every starstruck face, Rhane would toss out a wink and a smile, hopefully improving their day.

  Halfway up the platform, Rhane’s gait began to slow. Little by little, his cheerful face faded into puzzlement—where exactly was he supposed to be going? The producer had just said to 'find Director Vogel and petition her for the executive agent position', or something along those lines. But Bruckhaven was a big place, and the Director could be anywhere in it. Figuring his best bet was to just to ask around, Rhane peered over the heads of the scurrying crowd, searching for the nearest authority figure to supply him with some much-needed direction.

  He spotted just the person. In the distance was a Verloren officer: a sub-lieutenant from the engineering division, judging by the shape and color of the insignias sewn into her jumpsuit. She was a mousy, freckled woman, with a trim bowl of hair and slender eyes, impressively young to be holding such a high-ranking position. The officer was anxiously slinging orders at a gaggle of confused and clumsy workers while they attempted to stack a pallet of large steel drums.

  “Ah, careful with those chemicals!” the young woman cried after the workers narrowly caught a slipping pallet. “You heard what Chief Bauman said, we need every ounce for the cannon!” Placing her fists on her hips, she let out an exasperated groan.

  “Looks like you got your hands full,” chimed Rhane, strolling over to her from behind.

  “Tell me about it,” the woman groaned, turning around. “Even with these double shifts, I don’t know how the brass expects us t—” The instant she saw Rhane’s face, she froze in place, apparently awestruck. “Wait… y—you’re…”

  Rhane flashed her his trademark winning smile. “Farren Rhane. Pleasure to meet you, Sub-Lieutenant… Fahri,” he said, reading her name badge and extending a charmed hand.

  The officer meekly reached out and grasped his fingers. “Y—you said my name… I mean, it’s a pleasure to meet you too!” she stammered as Rhane gave her a firm and friendly handshake. “Farren Rhane… I—I saw you in the paper this morning. You were on the front page!”

  Rhane’s brows shot up. “Wait, seriously?” he asked.

  “Well, in the corner, but yes. There was a special deep dive into your Tannimahr job. Oh, it sounded like such an adventure! I’ve—I’ve actually been following all of your expeditions for, um, a while now.”

  “Really?” said Rhane. “Well, I hope they’ve been to your satisfaction!”

  “Oh my, yes! I am a—a huge admirer of your work.”

  Rhane’s heart swelled at the compliment. “Aw, I really appreciate that,” he said, trying not to smile too broadly. “You know, none of it would be possible without the engineering division at my back. Without you folks there would be no Verloren Industries.”

  “Yeah?…” whispered the sub-lieutenant. She stared at Rhane excitedly for several silent seconds. “So!—” she then loudly blurted out. “Ahem. S—so, how can I help you? Anything you need, just let me know. Anything!”

  “I just got a quick question,” said Rhane. “So, I'm looking to find Operations Director Vogel—official agent business and stuff, you see. You wouldn't happen to know where she might be, would you?”

  “Oh, is that all?…” frowned the sub-lieutenant. “I mean—yes, of course!” She pointed to a sword-shaped tower on the edge of the docks. “Last I was told, the Director is overseeing launch preparations from the Schuster Building. It’s that big one just past the central terminal, you can’t miss it.”

  “Schuster building. Got it. Many thanks.” Rhane took off towards the terminal. “Appreciate the help!” he signaled back to the sub-lieutenant.

  “Many thanks you!” the young woman nervously called after him. “Uh, w—wait! Are you coming along? Will you be on board the National Treasure at all?!”

  Rhane was aiming to discover that for himself. But until he knew for sure, he figured it best to act the part. Rhane turned and threw the woman a wink. “I’ll see you around.”

  Sub-Lieutenant Fahri stood and stared, her knees wobbling. “Any—anytime!” she meekly yelled back. Her trance was shortly shattered by the loud clang of a steel drum falling onto the ground. “Ah! I said be careful!” she shouted towards the workers, snapping back to the job at hand.

  Rhane couldn’t help but smile at the sub-lieutenant’s enthusiasm as he walked away. She seemed nice—and she was a fan of his to boot! He had actual fans now! Too bad he’d probably never see her again. The National Treasure had over two thousand people on its staff, and even if Rhane was on the expedition, which he definitely would be, he’d likely be off on his own, as he usually was. But that was fine, right? It was a small price to pay for fame. And hey, if he could just get that promotion and go on to become the most beloved adventurer who ever lived, it’d all be worth it.

  Emerging past the throngs of Verloren personnel, Rhane focused up. Holding his head high, he ran through all the ways he would prove to the brass he had what it took to be selected for the executive agent spot. One way or another, he would get Director Vogel to give him a chance. He angled himself past the terminal and determinedly marched straight for the Schuster building.

  Stepping foot onto the building's verdant plaza, Rhane instantly slowed, taken in by the shimmering silvery statuary and the dance of a dozen fountains lining the path to the door. As he stood there, momentarily dazzled, he suddenly felt a pair of meaty hands clamp down on his shoulders. Before he knew it, he was being forcefully escorted away from the building.

  “Hey! What the—!”

  “Come with me, sir,” spoke the owner of the hands: a gruff brick of a man in a silver Verloren Industries uniform, an Executive Division badge pinned to his chest.

  “What’s happening?” asked Rhane. The officer remained silent, his stony demeanor unchanging. Rhane struggled against the man’s strength as he was hauled off towards the nearby road. The officer just tightened his grasp, digging his fingers into the olive-green leather of Rhane’s coat. “Hey, hey, watch the jacket!” Rhane cried. “It’s custom!”

  The officer began to home in on a four-door landcruiser parked along the side of the road. Rhane eased his struggling, allowing himself to be pushed towards the vehicle. “Okay, I’m going,” he urged. “Come on, buddy, we work together!”

  Arriving at the cruiser, the hulking officer yanked open the door and casually tossed Rhane inside. Rhane fell face first into an overstuffed leather bench as the officer forcefully latched the door behind him. Before he even had a chance to orient himself, a steely voice acknowledged his arrival.

  “Agent Rhane,” purred Director Vogel. She was seated across from him on an identical leather bench, legs crossed and full of poise, complete with her usual understated ghostliness. Her skull-like gas mask, which Rhane still wasn’t used to after so many years, was buried in a thick binder as she composed a flurry of notes, plainly too busy to look up from her work.

  “Oh, Director Vogel… Hi,” said Rhane, utterly befuddled. He swept back his hair, letting his eyes adjust to the dim cabin. “This is… weird… Uh, I mean, not this situation, of course. It’s just that I was, uh, actually hoping I’d get a chance to talk to you. Say, this is a nice ship you got here. Is this real leather?”

  Vogel ignored Rhane’s attempts at conversation, remaining absorbed in her binder. “I was made aware of your arrival,” she said after a moment. “I trust Lieutenant-Commander Covaci was able to deliver your summons without issue.”

  “Oh, well, it was quite a summons,” said Rhane, rubbing his shoulder. “But that’s okay. I’m used to being led around.”

  “I apologize for any physical discomfort you might have experienced,” said Vogel, not sounding particularly apologetic. “The Commander has a penchant for overzealousness. He will be reprimanded for his conduct.”

  Rhane waved his hands around. “Oh no, please, you don’t have to do that.” He waited for Vogel to respond, only to be met with stillness. As the pair sat in tepid silence for a time, Rhane watched Vogel put the final flourishes on her writing, the movement of her pen carrying with it an almost hypnotic elegance. “…So—” he finally said. “Is this about the Tannimahr job? Did you hear about the swinging thing I did?”

  “I have read the report,” said Vogel, gesturing to a folder lying on the seat beside her. Closing her binder, she finally lifted her head, staring at Rhane with her cold, stoic lenses. “A satisfactory performance. Public engagement has risen sixteen points beyond our expected projections. You have proven repeatedly to have an aptitude for problem solving, exceptional survivability, and a willingness to follow orders to the letter. Valued qualities in a field agent.”

  Rhane tried to mask the delighted squealing in his head with a mellow, serious facade. ‘Satisfactory’, she’d said—Rhane had never heard Vogel give out such high praise, not even to the top agents. “Ah, it’s nothing,” Rhane playfully dismissed. “I aim to please.”

  “Indeed,” said Vogel. “As such, I have decided to entrust you with a special task.”

  “Entrust away!” said Rhane, pumping himself full of confidence. “So, what am I after this time? Or—” He leaned forward inquisitively. “Is this about the Ama-Lasria expedition? It is, isn’t it? I knew it.” Rhane sat upright and pondered the possibilities. “Wow, the Dead City. Never thought we’d actually do it. I mean, I knew we would… So yeah, what’s the prize? The crown of the God King, some kind of jewel-encrusted… vase?”

  “In due time.”

  “Well, you know me. Whatever you need, just point me in the right direction. A crown, an idol—you name it. I’m your guy.” Rhane slung his arm over the back seat. “Yeah… That’s me.”

  “At this moment you are required for a different purpose,” Vogel stated.

  “Ah, yes. Very good. Whatever you need,” said Rhane, nodding profusely to mask his immense disappointment.

  Vogel pulled out a dossier from the stack of files beside her. “I am assembling a task force. In recent days a band of thieves have stolen Verloren property vital to the success of the Ama-Lasria Expedition.”

  “What?” swelled Rhane with sanctimonious outrage. “How dare they interfere with this most historic of things we’re doing.”

  “Quite. It is of the utmost importance that this stolen item be returned to us swiftly, and that the perpetrators of this offense answer for what they have wrought. Know that I have specifically selected you for this assignment.” Vogel leaned in. “Can I count on you, Agent Rhane?”

  Rhane flashed the Director a look of dependable determination. “Absolutely, ma’am. Anything for the company.”

  “Well spoken.” Vogel handed him the dossier. “You will begin your search on the northeast side. Use any contacts or methods at your disposal.”

  “Alright, northeast, got it,” Rhane confirmed, skimming through the pages of the file. “Question: what am I looking for exactly?”

  “A map, and the raiders who took it,” said Vogel. “You will find all that you need in the dossier. Success in this instance will be substantially rewarded.”

  Rhane’s eyes lit up. “A reward? Like, say… a promotion?”

  Vogel cocked her head. “Possibly.” Without another word, she snapped her fingers. The hulking officer yanked the ship door open. Vogel picked up another tome from her pile and began to study it profusely. As she did, she made a silent gesture with her hand, signaling for Rhane to step out of her vehicle. “I expect results, and promptly,” she concluded, her mask buried behind her book.

  Rhane took his cue and shuffled out onto the sidewalk. The silver-clad officer slammed the ship’s door shut uncomfortably close to Rhane’s back before climbing into the driver’s seat. The landcruiser growled to life and glided off down the road, leaving Rhane standing alone at the curb

  “…Possibly…” Rhane whispered with a wide grin, watching Vogel’s cruiser disappear. He could read the Director just well enough to know that he had an in, and a good one at that. She had ‘specifically selected’ him, after all. And all he had to do was find a couple of saboteurs and haul them off for a proper dressing down. He could only imagine what kind of outrageous fines the company would slap the thieves with once he caught them. And catch them he would. Compared to tracking the movements of long-dead people across hundreds of miles of Unbound-infested ruins, this mission would be a cinch.

  Rhane took a minute to skim the dossier and familiarize himself with the details of the job. Unsurprisingly, many of the files were partially redacted—the company did love their secrets. Even so, he found enough to get started: a file photo of a young woman in glasses and a vague description of what the stolen map should contain. Slapping the folder shut, Rhane figured his first order of business would be to get the latest on all the artifacts coming into the city, and he knew just the person to ask. Orienting himself towards the nearest trolley station, Rhane marched off down the road with gusto. That Executive Agent spot was as good as his.