The feed ran backwards in a blur until eventually it stopped and started moving forward. It starts in a warehouse; the view looked kind of like a GoPro camera with the person going around checking crates. It was especially neat watching a steak knife-sized claw unsheathe from one of her fingers and use it to wedge between the crate lid, then with a twist *thunk* the lid popped open.

  *That must be Tiff,* Nick thought, then started paying more attention to the crates, or more so the contents. Most were electronic devices that Nick had no clue what they could be, some things he could guess—different types of guns, possible explosives, and some crates with holes. These she was more delicate with.

  When she opened one, inside were creatures that looked like human-sized otters—long, noodle-shaped beings with oily, short brown fur. At a glance, they seemed like a mix between adults and children, wearing torn, dirty, shimmering zip-up onesies and looking scared out of their minds.

  A clawed finger rose to Tiff's snout.

  "Shhhh, I'm not going to hurt you, little ones. I’m here to get you out of here," she whispered to the otters. They huddled together, clasping each other’s paws, their tear-streaked faces buried in their arms. The fur under their eyes was matted, with patches missing from their bodies—clear evidence of mistreatment. Dirt clung to their small frames, making them appear even more fragile.

  She started talking to someone who wasn’t there.

  “Found the packages. Yeah, there’s more. Looks like it’s all stolen goods and weapons—and a few Pharoses.”

  “I’m going to escort them out of the building. Yes, send a drop team. No, don’t come by yourself. I’ve got this. Don’t come without a team! Franzé? Franzé!” Her voice grew sharper as static crackled in response. She let out a frustrated sigh. “Damn it!”

  Turning back to the terrified creatures, she softened her tone, crouching closer. Despite her gentler demeanor, the Pharoses shrank further into the far corner of the crate, trembling under her gaze.

  "Take my hand and stay by my side until we’re outside. Understood?”

  For a moment, they remained frozen, clutching each other as if for dear life. Then, one of the smaller children, seemingly bolder—if not more curious—than the rest, tilted its oversized, liquid-brown eyes toward her. With a hesitant shuffle on its stubby legs, it scuttled closer, its tiny paws reaching for her outstretched finger and latching on with both hands. Tiff smiled softly, gently grasping the child, lifting it free, and setting it down beside her.

  She extended her hand again. The remaining Pharoses exchanged a flurry of soft, alien-sounding chatter, their wide eyes darting between her and one another. Finally, they seemed to reach a decision. With slow, cautious movements, they began stepping forward, nodding as if to confirm their trust.

  Tiff worked quickly, pulling them out one at a time, carefully closing each crate after checking for any stragglers. Once she was sure the last of them was safe, she led the group toward the side door that opened into the cool night.

  Stopping near the door, she crouched in front of a large male Pharose. Reaching into the upper-left zipper pocket of her stealth suit, she retrieved a small device and handed it to him.

  “This is a communication homing beacon,” she explained, her voice calm but urgent. “Lead the families down this alley. Turn right. The first parking garage you see—head to the top platform. Press the silver button when you’re there, and an evac team will come for you.”

  The Pharose nodded, clutching the device tightly. Tiff stood at the door, her keen eyes scanning the alleyway, and watched as the group disappeared into the shadows. Only when they were out of sight did she shut the door quietly behind them.

  Checking the map on her wrist-mounted device—a gaudy shackle-like band with a green-on-green screen—Tiff twisted a knob on the side to zoom in on her location. With a deep breath, she steeled herself and prepared to move forward.

  *Looks like they have an upstairs office. That’s probably where they’d keep the inventory manifest,* she thought, her eyes scanning the dim corridor.)

  Security was lighter than expected. With a quick press of a button on her headgear, a visor slid down, revealing the unseen.

  “Laser trip alarms,” she murmured, a touch of disappointment in her tone. “Really? That’s all?”

  She moved with precision, stepping over one laser and vaulting silently over another. The corner of the hallway came into view as she consulted her map. From her shackle-like arm bracelet, she retrieved a sleek, earbud-like device. Attaching it carefully to the wall, she tapped a command on her screen. Instantly, the device synced with her bone-conducting headset clipped behind her ears.

  A voice crackled into her ears, low and irate. “I told you the humans would get involved. I also told you not to take humans from RiverBrook. It’s too small of an area, but you didn’t listen.”

  *Bingo. Confession material,* Tiff thought, a sly smile creeping across her lips. She tapped the record button on her screen, activating the mic she’d planted earlier.

  “I don’t care if you didn’t think anyone would notice, you idiot! What kind of fool goes to a small city, grabs a hundred people out of a population of a thousand, and thinks no one will investigate?!”

  “To make matters worse, you involved the local authorities and their protectees! I don’t give a damn how attractive they were; you’re putting us in the spotlight! Not to mention, I’m trying to move merchandise. The locals I can handle, but I don’t need the Galactic Security Administration breathing down my neck!"

  "Listen, I have one job for you. I’ve put together some documents to create a fake trail. There’s a local detective—feed him the info. There’s a party tomorrow, and I’ve arranged for you to meet him there. After he leaves the party with the handoff, make him disappear. I’m sending you a package; you’ll know what to do with it. If you get in trouble, use it."

  "I don’t want your apologies, Tommy. I want you to do your damn job!"

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  *Slam-Clack!* Tiff winced slightly, her ears flattening against her head at the sound of the phone slamming onto the desk.

  *Sounds like things might get interesting,* she thought, mildly agitated as she rubbed her ears and snapped the device back into place on her bracelet. She eased down the hall, hearing the door from which the conversation had been coming open and slam shut. Peeking around the corner, she spotted a Narithian—a six-foot-tall, scrawny rat—leaving the office, chittering a parade of obscenities as he hurried down the hall, the *click-clack* of his heels echoing behind him.

  “Rats. Very interesting indeed,” she whispered under her breath, hurrying to the office to check for the manifest.

  The office was spacious, with a large metal desk positioned against the back wall and a paneled window overlooking the storage area. To the left of the desk, liquid-cooled servers hummed softly, while filing cabinets lined the wall to the right.

  Tiff moved to the desk, rifling through stacks of papers and data discs. She paused, clicking the display on the desk phone. Recent calls—Tommy Penske. Rolling her eyes, she reached for the keyboard, muttering under her breath.

  “I loathe these abominable devices designed for baby-fingered beings,” she huffed, clumsily pecking at the keys. When Tommy’s bio popped up, she snapped a screenshot of his mugshot and personal info.

  “Might come in handy.”

  Not finding the hard copy she needed, she growled in frustration. “I don’t have time for this.” Pulling her mane to the side, she tapped the nape of her neck. *Phachick.* A small panel opened, and she retrieved her data cord, plugging it into the monitor. Her eyes fluttered as the screen flickered.

  “Where are you?” she murmured. The monitor blurred as pictures, documents, and gibberish scrolled rapidly until a folder popped up.

  “Aaaahhh, there you are.”

  The file opened automatically, revealing numbers, names, and inventory details. A copy window appeared on her visor, the download bar moving astonishingly fast compared to human tech.

  Her head tilted toward the door.

  “Shit,” she whispered, quickly unplugging the cable and giving it a slight tug to retract back into her neck. She pressed the flap closed with a *Phachick.*

  “Looks like it’s go time.”

  She stealthily dashed to the door, flattening herself against the wall as she waited for it to open.

  “I swear to all that’s unholy, if Tommy screws up again after everything I spoon-fed him, I’m frying his chip and disemboweling him myself!”

  Caught up in his own aggravation and scrambling to preempt his lackey’s inevitable blunders, Trevis failed to notice the hulking, eight-and-a-half-foot-tall red Lupus poorly concealed behind the door he’d left ajar upon entering. Tiff gently nudged the door closed. The *snick* of the lock made Trevis freeze, his beady eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.

  In one swift motion, she had him by the neck, lifting him effortlessly. She brought his face close to hers, using her thumb and index finger of her free hand to pinch his small snout shut.

  “Ssshhhh. Quiet. Let’s keep this conversation between us, okay?” she whispered. “Blink twice if you understand me.” He blinked rapidly, complying.

  “Good. I’ll keep this short and simple: where are the humans you abducted?” She loosened her grip on his windpipe just enough for him to speak.

  “I don’t know anything about what you’re talking about, lady. I swear!” he tittered, clutching her arm with both hands to relieve the pressure on his neck.

  “So you’re telling me you know nothing about the crates of Pharoses in storage? Or the weapons and augmenters downstairs?” The color drained from his thin face.

  “I want to talk to my representative.”

  “Oh, you relinquished that privilege a long time ago when you and your crew set up shop on this mudball and started abducting residents.”

  “Now, this is the last time I’m asking nicely,” she growled, dropping the hand that held his muzzle and digging her index claw into his groin.

  Trevis was drenched in sweat by this point.

  “Look, lady, I’m just a paper pusher—aaaaggghh! Crazy bitch! Stop! Please stop already!” Tiff pressed her claw harder, digging into the crown jewels with deliberate precision.

  “That’s not what it sounded like during your call with Tommy,” she said, removing her claw from his groin. She tapped a couple of icons on the screen of her bracelet, playing back the recorded phone conversation between Trevis and Tommy. His already wide eyes grew even larger as his face wilted. Her gaze flicked to his Italian leather shoes, grey pinstriped pants, and matching vest, all complemented by a gold pocket watch and chain.

  “And you’re too sharply dressed for a paper pusher,” she added.

  “Last chance,” she growled, returning her claw to his groin.

  “I swear! I have nothing to do with that! That was all that idiot Tommy! He had some guy he talked to about exotic pets, and I guess the guy made him an offer he couldn’t refuse!”

  “So, how do I find this... exotic pet dealer?”

  “I have no idea, lady! I swear!”

  “Then you’re useless to me.” She twisted her claw deeper into his groin.

  “Wait! Tommy would be the one to ask! No more, just please stop!”

  “Okay then, how do I find this Tommy you speak of?”

  “He’ll be at a business party on top of the mountain outside of Riverbrook, at the old Spencer estate.”

  “See?” she said, beaming. “You can be useful when properly motivated.” She withdrew her claw and patted the side of his face. “Good boy. Now go to sleep,” she said, pressing her thumb against his windpipe. His eyes slowly fluttered closed, and his breathing slowed to a near stop.

  She waited a few minutes until she heard a faint heartbeat. *Oh good! I didn’t kill this one! I’m getting better at this*, she thought, pleased with herself, her tail swishing back and forth as she held Trevis by the neck. Tiff walked back behind the desk and carefully set him into his chair. Digging into her hip pouch, she retrieved a handful of cable ties and strapped his arms and legs securely to the chair.

  “That should do it. Now you stay right there till backup arrives.”