Lt Shaitana vs the Pirates of Oghma
Chapters:
- A Taste of Danger! (released: Torpol 1104-350)
- The Wolf's Warning! (unreleased)
Chapter 1 - A Taste of Danger!
The shuttle door chimed softly before sliding open with a hiss, releasing a faint metallic tang that lingered in the air. Lieutenant Shaitana stepped through, his boots hitting the deck with a deliberate, steady cadence. His dark eyes swept the bustling spaceport, cataloging every detail—the flicker of a dying light, the weary shuffle of travelers, the faces that turned away just a beat too quickly. His unassuming stature and weathered features might have blended into the crowd, but his presence carried an unmistakable weight. Years of surviving hostile environments had honed his instincts to a fine edge, and now, they thrummed with unease.
He stopped just beyond the threshold, inhaling deeply. His breath lingered for a moment before he released it, slow and purposeful.
“You did that at Torbuk too,” came a sharp voice from behind him. Dr. Novak descended the shuttle ramp with a precision that hinted at a mind constantly dissecting, analyzing. Taller than Shaitana, with an angular frame and piercing eyes, she radiated an intensity that made her casual attire feel as clinical as a lab coat. “Why do you do that?”
Shaitana turned slightly, a faint smile touching his lips as he secured the shuttle door with practiced ease. “Just getting a taste for the local atmosphere, Doctor.”
Her brow arched. “A taste? You mean smell. And for the record, the air here is chemically identical to what we were breathing five minutes ago.”
Shaitana’s smile widened, though his gaze drifted back to the crowd. “Smell and taste are connected, Novak. Every ship, every station, has its own flavor of air. The scrubbers, the trace elements, the thousands of lungs it’s cycled through—they all leave a mark. You just have to know how to notice it.”
Novak folded her arms, her skepticism cutting through his explanation. “You’re romanticizing recycled air. It’s processed, industrial. Not some vintage wine.”
Shaitana chuckled softly, though his eyes never stopped scanning. “Call it what you will, but this air reeks of trouble.”
Novak shifted the strap of her bag, her irritation evident. “Trouble? The scans were clean—no pathogens, no toxins, no anomalies. It’s just air.”
“Fear doesn’t show up on a scanner,” Shaitana said, his tone low and measured. “Stress, desperation... they linger. Even in purified air. And this place has been steeped in them for far too long.”
Before Novak could respond, Shaitana’s posture shifted, his hand brushing the hilt of the blade at his hip in one fluid motion. “Keep the package close, Doctor. No distractions.”
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag, her jaw setting with defiance. “I always do my job, Lieutenant.”
He nodded once, his focus snapping back to the spaceport. The crowd surged around them—vendors shouting over one another, travelers weaving through the chaos, drones gliding silently on their tracks. But beneath the surface, something felt off. People moved with an energy that was slightly too frantic, their conversations too hushed. Eyes darted away as they passed, and the rhythm of the crowd wavered, like a melody played out of tune.
Shaitana’s instincts sharpened, a prickling awareness spreading through him. He felt it before he saw it—a presence, heavy and oppressive, lurking just out of sight. The air seemed to grow thicker, charged with an unspoken tension.
Novak glanced at him, her voice tinged with exasperation. “You’re imagining things. This is just another busy station.”
“Trust me,” Shaitana murmured, his hand resting lightly on his sword. “I’ve learned to trust my instincts.”
Before she could argue, a voice rumbled from the shadows, low and rough: “You’re more right than you know, Lieutenant Shaitana.”
The words hit like a thunderclap. Shaitana’s hand flew to his sword in one fluid motion, his body coiled and ready. Novak froze beside him, her breath catching as the air around them seemed to hum with unseen menace.
For a heartbeat, the spaceport fell silent. The distant hum of machinery faded, the chaotic energy of the crowd blurring into the background. Shaitana’s sharp eyes scanned the direction of the voice, every muscle in his body taut, every instinct screaming at him to stay alert. The unseen threat pressed closer, palpable, suffocating.
And then, like the crack of a whip, the moment snapped.
A figure stepped into view, their silhouette cutting through the haze of the crowd.
To be continued in Chapter 2 - The Wolf's Warning!...
