Chapter 1: Traitors among Thieves

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There was only one good thing Runt could say about riots: they were a good way to stay anonymous.

Which was good. Because there was nowhere to hide.

Runt ran his fingers over the rough brick wall silently, his eyes darting back and forth through the thrashing crowd. His feet shifted back and forth, aching to retreat further into the alley he stood at the threshold of. His tail whipped at the ground behind him, leaving slashes in the sand as his stomach tied itself in knots and the city burned itself down. His mouth was as dry as the night's desert air as he watched another pack of looters beat their way through security glass and into a building across the street while rioters cheered.

C'mon Quix... He thought, biting his lip and searching the crowd again.

His eyes, big, sad, and rainy-day blue, reflected the fires of Molotov cocktails and blinked at the report of teargas grenades.

Justice was no match for power.

A levy of riot shields doubled down as a human tidal wave smashed into the wall of Plexiglas and batons. Another dozen riot police in full gear stormed out of a van just arriving to the scene of the most recent nationalist protest. Rioters, most of them still gathering courage, stood in writhing swarms, screaming and chanting as the chilled night air churned with the smell of sweat, smoke, and alcohol.

Runt rolled his shoulder, an ache and a bruise creeping across his light grey skin from a riot wound. He clasped his hand over the bruise, his stomach in a knot as his muscles tensed at the sound of a bottle shattering on the row of riot shields nearby. He hadn't counted on riots... And he certainly wasn't equipped to survive them.

As usual, things had gone from bad to worse.

As usual. Runt thought with an anxious tic of his tail. He snapped his head to one side, scanning the tight-knit crowd for his contact. He was beginning to wonder if she was going to show up at all.

Relax, Runt. He told himself quietly, trying to sooth his anxiety with a few slow, smooth breaths. She's never missed before...

Of course, he could tell himself facts all day. They did little to fight his rampant unease.

Runt chewed his lip, taking another step back into the shadows, his bare paws settling on old newsprint and sand. The night air of New Medina wasn't a stranger to riots. Runt had seen them on the news feeds a few times before he'd left his homeworld. Mobs of rabid protesters, mostly human, bolting across the redish dunes of the desert world towards police lines. Fires licking the paint off overturned vehicles. Chants that echoed in his mind to this day.

He remembered lying in a street face down, bleeding, too. Compliments of a riot.

He shivered.

Can't wait to get off this rock...

At least it was for a good cause. That much wasn't up for debate.

He paused, taking another step backwards as the crowd boiled over in another location, a volley of rocks and bottles rocketing towards the police line.

"Crap..." He mumbled to himself. He started to take his datapad out of its holder, not taking his eyes off the crowd. "Quix, where are you..."

Just as his finger slid across the smooth screen to wake up his miniature computer, a female his same age and species slipped around the corner wearing a backpack, unzipped hoodie, graphic tee, bandana, and a cold grin.

Quixxa. His contact. His friend.

She glanced over her shoulder furtively, and slipped into the alley, her tail leaving a track in the sand as she turned.

Runt felt his body relax. A chill slid down his spine and allowed him a sigh of relief. Even his heartbeat, pounding on his ribcage with fury and terror, started to slow as he met her sharp, violet eyes.

She, unlike him, was street smart. As if the standard issue nationalist bandana and the concealed weapon under her left arm didn't make that clear enough, her muscle tone was more than enough to say she'd had to fend for herself.

"Runt." She said with a relieved huff and a shake of her head. "It's insane out there. Thanks for coming on short notice."

Runt smiled at her and beckoned her further back into the alley. "Glad to see you. I was starting to get worried you weren't gonna make it."

She grimaced and finished closing the gap between them in a few strides. "Yeah, I had to wonder there for a minute too."

She stopped and smiled, spreading her arms a little.

"How are you Runt?"

Runt licked his lips with a blue tongue. He was tired. Up too late on a hostile planet, trapped inside riots and caged in a city that sought his blood. His anxiety pursued him like a pack of dogs. Death's jaws gaped open below him, and fate threatened to seize his life. Yet he'd chosen this. He'd done it to himself.

Runt leaned into Quix, and accepted a half-second hug.

He wouldn't have chosen any other path.

"Tense. Little nauseous. But I'm ready. I brought my gear. So what do you have?"

Quixxa let a wicked grin split her lips as she stepped back.

"Something big."

Runt raised his brow. "Again?"

"Yeah." She said, her fingerless gloves bunching up as she crossed her arms. "One of my contacts called. Your package is in."

Runt's heart jumped.

"It is?"

She nodded. "I also got a tip that they're moving a huge amount of money through that server you've been monitoring."

Runt's heart jumped, this time harder, and with an uncomfortable jolt.

"How much?"

"They're talking tens of millions."

Anxiety seized Runt's stomach and twisted, making him cringe. When Quix had called him an hour or two ago, he'd dropped everything and left his dorm like a rocket, expecting to meet her and pick up his long-awaited package. A package that his health depended on. Pin pricks on his palms and nausea that wouldn't quit reminded him that he needed that package. He hadn't expected to be asked to do his undercover job at the same time.

After all, there was a significant difference between picking up a smuggled package and running interference against a terror organization's financial infrastructure.

And to make matters worse...

"Let me guess..." Runt added, tearing his eyes from Quix and looking through the scalding riots to the other side of an embattled street. Quix joined him in looking at their shared target, a now-looted building.

"We were supposed to meet your contact inside?"

"Yup."

His stomach dropped.

"They just had to burn it down tonight, huh?" Quix growled beside him.

Runt glanced to his left. Quixxa's violet eyes watched from under knotted brows as their plans slowly fell into chaos amid the riot. She, like him, was not welcome in their writhing mass of hate.

Because she, like him, was a Springer. Anything but human.

Quix stepped back with Runt, and took down her hood as she slowly pulled her eyes from the street. She cursed, and met his eyes.

"You got a plan?"

Runt rolled his neck and exhaled. He wasn't backing out, or backing down. He'd been asked to do his job. To save lives. To disrupt, to interfere, and to reveal.

"Yeah. Up an over."

Quix looked up.

And Runt looked back to the riot. Fire danced in his eyes, and destiny just beyond it.

Any other riot, and he'd have stayed in the dorms.

But they were too close to getting out for that.

Quix tapped him on the chest.

He looked.

"You don't have to come." She said, tightening the straps on her backpack with a tug. "I'll meet my contact, get the package, and get out. I can meet you here in five, maybe ten."

Runt felt his spine tingle as he watched the firelight paint Quix in crimson. His stomach was in knots like a tangled charging cord, and every breath sent pangs of stress across muscles that ached from the endless assault of tension.

He would have loved to stay behind. But He wasn't about to let his unrelenting nerves get the best of him now. He had a job to do.

Runt tightened his own backpack and fastened the chest strap with a click.

"We can't afford to let anything slip by now. I'm coming with you."

Runt saw Quix grit her teeth.

She was worried.

But he was stubborn.

"Ok, let's get this over with." She said, grabbing her bandana and pulling it over her snout.

Runt did the same.

Up and over. He repeated to himself, licking his lips. Get in, get out. Ten minutes tops.

Ten minutes was more than enough time for things to go very, very wrong.

Runt took in a breath and looked up.

It was about thirty feet up to the edge of the roof.

For a human? Impossible.

For a Springer?

Just a jump away.

Lithe bodies and powerful legs, Springers were designed to climb. And the two clandestine operatives did not disappoint.

Quix jumped first, uncoiling into the air like a rocket. She kicked off a wall, and disappeared over the roof.

Runt followed.

Explosive power lifted him off the sand. Bricks shot by as he rose and contorted, keeping his balance with slashes of his tail as he bounded off the wall and touched down on the roof without a sound.

Quix was standing by the edge of the roofline, looking out towards the city center when he arrived.

"Geez..." She quipped. "Would you look at that?"

Runt lifted his eyes to what he already knew was there.

Skyscrapers that towered hundreds upon hundreds of stories above them glowed inside and out. Fire and smoke tinted the night sky orange as the teeth of New Medina lay bared. The moonless sky and merciless city were a far cry from home to Runt, and the flames of conflict only made him ache for an icy homeworld all the more. Yet his eyes only traced columns of smoke and the blinking lights of security drones. Sirens and screams tore at what should have been a quiet night. The scent of smoke was simply a precursor to the stench of war.

Runt felt a shiver, and his tail dropped to the cement behind him.

"Wow..."

Quix glanced back at him, eyes soft with concern.

Runt felt himself shiver.

"You holding up ok?" She asked, turning and tugging her gloves on tighter. "I know it's been a few days..."

Runt swallowed and grit his teeth. The ache in his stomach, the tremor in his fingertips, the shadow in the back of his mind... It'd been more than just a few days.

It'd been a week without his medication.

But they were headed into that pharmacy for more than some pills.

Much more.

Runt exhaled stiffly and lifted his tail off the ground.

His package, yes. He needed it to survive. And the server... he planned to disrupt it and cause problems for the terrorists depending on it. But it was even more than that. It wasn't just any terrorists.

It was the MLA. The ones stoking the riots below. The ones breathing down his neck. The ones sowing chaos and death across the entire Socotra system. He'd hated them for years, ever since he'd emigrated there.

But that hate had turned to relentless wrath when he'd met Quix. The MLA owned her. Controlled her. She jumped for them, smuggled for them, and had sacrificed every ember of joy and freedom she had left in the hopes of preserving her life. They had made her life a living hell.

And he was going to return the favor by helping her stab them in the back.

They could hunt him. They could attack his home. They could ravage their own world. But they would regret the day they'd found his friend.

Runt cleared his throat, and pulled his mind back to the task at hand.

"Yeah... I'm ok. I just can't wait to get back home."

Quix's brow softened, and she pulled her bandana back down.

"We'll be off this rock soon. Just stick close. We'll be done in a few minutes. My contact should be ready."

Runt pulled his jacket closer.

"I hope he's still there."

Quix turned and marched to the edge of the roof, overlooking the street.

"He'd better be. Or I'll kill him myself."

With that, she jumped.

Runt walked towards the edge as he watched her tail whirl in the air. She caught the top of a street light, balanced, and jumped again.

Runt was behind her in seconds, making the leap from post to post, across the street and atop the pharmacy.

His feet touched the rooftop at the same moment that something at street level detonated.

Runt flinched.

His whole body tensed, locking his muscles and stinging his already-tight chest. He grit his teeth as the shock passed.

Quix was standing by, eyes sharp and hand ready to draw her concealed sidearm.

Runt knew to look for the bulge under her arm.

But hopefully, no one else did.

"Door's locked." Quix said, pointing at the steel door on the roof. "Can you get us in?"

Runt glanced at the lock.

Electronic.

He smirked.

"Hopefully."

In a few steps, he was at the door, already pulling a slim datapad off his hip and igniting the screen.

It would take a lot more than cheap locks to keep Runt's digital fingers out.

He tapped an icon, and held the razor-thin computer next to the lock.

He waited.

Quix stopped beside him, still looking over her shoulder.

"Your boss give you the tapping codes we asked for?"

Runt glanced at Quix with a smirk.

"Yeah. The Navy sent a few programs too."

Quix's lips parted in an evil grin.

"That's cool as sh-"

Beep-beep

The lock disarmed.

"Ok, show time." Runt said, pulling up a new program on his datapad.

Quix put her hand on the knob.

"Remember, I talk to him. You do your thing. Let's do this clean."

Runt nodded, and started to pull his equipment out of a thigh pocket.

"Ready?" Quix asked.

He clutched his datapad, and brought up a new screen.

"Ready."

She pulled the door open.

A dark stairwell greeted them, along with a puff of smoke.

Runt felt a pang in his guts as he followed Quix in.

Smoke.

The stairs flew by in bounds.

I hope they kept the package refrigerated...

Light streamed into a hazy back-hall from the front of the pharmacy as they found the ground floor. The throb of the riot outside stung Runt's ears. And worse yet, the sting of teargas was already making his lungs ache.

He didn't have long.

Quix and him rounded the corner into the main store, debris and broken glass cluttering the floor and the smell of dozens of broken bottles of medication flooding the air with an astringent reek.

"Ok, I'm headed for the safe room. Where's the computer you need?"

"Back desk." Runt said, cupping a handful of his jacket over his snout.

Quix led the way.

LED lights overhead flickered weakly as smoke drifted along the ceiling. Runt had to jump a few times and double check his steps as overturned shelves and scattered merchandise threatened to trip him. Ragged leftovers of the riots tossed up in the wind, from shredded packaging to ash.

He felt his stomach tightening more.

Not now. Stay calm. Complete the mission.

"There it is." Quix said, leaving Runt's side. She hesitated, and turned towards him.

She drew her weapon.

"Here." She said, handing the grip to him. "Incase looters show up."

His hand reached for it.

And he paused.

I can always run...

He looked her in the eyes, and felt his heart tug.

If she got hurt...

He pushed the thought out of his mind and grit his teeth, a jolt of anxiety spreading under his skin. He wouldn't let her get hurt. He would stop at nothing to get them both out alive.

Nothing.

"You keep it." he said. "If they come, I'll hit the ceiling and hide. We'll regroup on the roof."

Quix nodded and shoved the weapon back into place.

"Ok. Just keep your eyes open."

She glanced at the street.

"And Runt, you better stay safe too. I mean it."

Runt felt his palms get cold.

"Don't worry. We'll be fine. Let's go."

With that, Quix darted to the back, and Runt took his bearings.

The lights still flickered. Runt could hardly take a step without the crunch of broken glass and sand against the tough pads of his feet. The heat from the fires outside pounded on his velvety smooth, grey skin and made his tail curl. Heat was the last thing a Springer wanted. And so was being caught in a New Medina riot.

Just had to come to this trash planet. He thought, looking around and activating his datapad.

He noticed the computer he'd quietly tapped into days before, still waiting on a desk near the back of the store. Thankfully, it hadn't been destroyed. He started walking towards it.

You could have had a nice scholarship at the U of P, but noooo, had to come here.

His datapad recognized the network he'd forced the pharmacy computer to quietly create, and started to tap in. That computer gave him access to a hidden server chock full of illicit data. Data he'd use to disrupt. Data he'd use to ensure he and Quix would be safe as they made their escape from a broken world.

He sighed, and leaned against the desk as papers fluttered by and his program chewed into a few terabytes of data, extracting only what he'd come for.

A Springer's fate on New Medina was not a good one. The soft-skinned, cold hearty little species wasn't cut out for a super-desert any more than humans were equipped to survive the ultra-subzero conditions of his home world.

But then again, New Medina's digital infrastructure wasn't cut out to handle a Springer's constant attacks.

His datapad dinged.

10% completed, download in progress.

He chuckled.

Easy.

Another explosion thumped in Runt's chest, making his tail stiffen.

He craned his neck, and looked towards the imploded glass store front.

Nothing but gas, fire, and the riot outside.

His stomach churned, knowing that if the crowd turned, they could be in the store and on him in seconds. He doubted they'd bother, though.

He was tempted to simply write the planet off.

Yet, he'd found Quix there...

20% complete, download in progress.

Runt found himself with a smile.

There were rioters, yes. There were terrorists, yes.

But for every billion of them, there was one of Quix. And he'd managed to find the one and only.

Of course... he'd had to do a little more than just find her.

He was still in the process of helping her extract herself from an international terror organization... And even more pressing, he had to ensure their exit strategy worked. Nowhere on New Medina was safe, and getting off-world without attracting attention was more difficult than he'd imagined.

But he wasn't going to waste time on trivial details.

30% complete, download in progress.

"Hey!"

Runt froze.

His

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