Chapter Text
Nathan Banterra was the last of his line, the last of a mighty house that had fallen into ruin. His grandmother had told him stories of the family’s glittering manor on a terraformed asteroid, the one she’d lived in as a child; the one that a market crash and a change in mining habits had snatched from them, replacing it all with dust and ruin.
And there he sat, in a dive-bar on some shitheap colony world, sipping his pint and fiddling with his communicator. With some overloud skank to his right and an empty stool that stank of beer and piss to his left.
It had been two days since the last contact he’d had with his clients; they were supposed to have rung him by now, letting him know when he’d be getting his cut of the proceeds of their latest sale. He’d done all the legwork, tracking down the hybrid child and its mother…
The father was a bit of an unknown quantity, and was the real high-value target for the crew he’d been assisting, but the man had given them the slip, completely vanishing into thin air. The mother’s protests had indicated that they’d gotten split up earlier, and that they’d regret ever getting involved in this….
Whatever. Nathan slugged back the last of his drink, rubbing his forehead. It didn’t matter. The exotics always screamed and cried as they got rounded up, and the girl was no different. Finding the child had been a pain in his ass anyway; getting close to them after they’d rescued this shitheap colony from a cyberman incursion had been no mean feat. Thank God for teleporters…
And anyway, the money was enough to appease his conscience. A few more deals like this, and he’d be able to afford a starship of his own, get the fuck out of this shithole, get back on his feet and get to rebuilding House Banterra’s fortunes.
Might help if he could find the father, though. That would really drive up his commission...
The door to the bar opened, which Nathan paid no attention to. Just raised his hand to summon the bartender back to his stool to order another hypervodka.
The bartender didn’t move.
The entire bar instantly fell silent.
Nathan whipped his head around, looking over everyone in shock and confusion. Someone had knocked over a glass on a nearby table, and it was standing there, suspended in the air, the liquid floating as if in a dream. The woman next to him was locked in position like a statue- the only one alive, still moving, still breathing, was him.
He looked to his left-
There sat a man who absolutely had not been there the instant before. That seat had been empty. The man had nothing remarkable about him; just a battered leather jacket and a close-shorn haircut.
And he’d just appeared there out of thin air. Like a ghost.
In front of him, on the table, was a glowing brass box, about the size of a Rubik’s cube, etched with concentric circular patterns that pulsed and twitched. The man had a hand on top of it, rubbing his fingers against the metal.
Didn’t even make eye contact with Nathan.
“Who- Who are you?! What did you do to- to them!?” He yelled, trying to scramble to his feet-
The man shot out an arm and grabbed Nathan’s wrist so hard that something crunched. He cried out in pain and almost collapsed to the floor, were it not for the iron-strong grip keeping him forcibly upright.
The man still didn’t turn his head. Still didn’t turn to look.
“I’m looking for my wife and child.” The man said softly. “You know where they are.”
Nathan’s blood turned to ice in his veins.
“I-I-I-“
“Give me your communicator. Now.” The man said softly, “And I’ll let you go.”
Nathan frantically fumbled it out of his breast pocket, flinging it at the bartop- the man let go of him and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. Nathan fell to the sticky bar floor in a heap, frantically trying to pick himself up, to run-
“They’ve been gone- for two days- I don’t-” Nathan spluttered, “Whatever it was- I didn’t- I-“
The man didn’t even grace him with a reply. Just flicked the little rectangular block on, unlocking it with a few deft taps and a buzz from some strange instrument (and wasn’t that terrifying, because his communicator was locked with a DNA print lock, meaning nobody else in all the universe could open it up but Nathan-) and he flicked his eyes over the holographic screen.
The man nodded sharply, getting to his feet with the tiny communicator in his hand.
The instant he stepped away, he vanished.
The bar was back to normal, lively and full of noise, and Nathan was laying there, sprawled on the floor, staring at the empty air where the mysterious man had been not two seconds earlier.
His blood turned to ice.
The crew.
Oh, god….