The Avalon Chronicles

Chapter One

Ryver drummed her fingers along the hull of the Avalon, irritated by the extended period of time her client's men were taking to unload the least suspicious cargo in her hull. She rolled her neck, making no effort to mask her annoyed groan. The four men unloading the crates of Nareon fabrics were meticulously placing the cargo in front of their supervisor, Ryver's client, so he could open each crate to be sure they were filled with the correct textiles, offering Ryver a nod with each box he approved to be loaded on his transport vehicle.

As the captain of the Avalon, Ryver had every right to tell them to move faster, as she did have a schedule to keep. But since the rest of her day was filled far more nefarious dealings, she was doing her best not to draw the attention of Customs Control on the planet Hibe-10. All planets in the Hibe Collective-the newest acquisition of the Laurentus Empire-were under stricter-than-usual trade controls until the Empire felt they had sufficiently quashed any lingering rebellion, which meant there were rewards for any customs agent that found suspicious cargo and confiscated it. Ryver watched each uniformed agent that passed the Avalon's hangar bay, but was sure to only nod in acknowledgment before returning her attention to the men hauling crates of fabric out of her ship. She could not afford to draw attention to herself or her ship before her second client arrived.

With another irritated groan loud enough for the unloading crew to hear, Ryver trudged up the passenger ramp, running her hand through the short, purple-dyed hair atop her head, flinching when she accidentally grazed the new cranial piercing where her hair was shaved. The pain in her forehead only made her more irritable. When she came across her three crew members in the center of the Avalon, called the Hub, Ryver raised her hands in exasperation before smacking her palms against her thighs.

"Seriously?"

"What?" Senna, the Avalon's flight engineer, asked, blinking her bright purple eyes in mock innocence.

"Why don't you assholes go help so we can get these morons out of the hangar already?" Ryver growled.

"Why don't you?" her first mate, Quinn, teased. He patted the seat next to him. "Sit your ass down. It's going to take as long as it's going to take."

The Hub showed its years of use despite the meticulous care of the Avalon. The canisters of balitar fruit juice were sitting on the dulled metallic surface of the main table, where the crew ate their meals or passed several of the long, boring hours of travel between planets. While Ryver wanted to grumble about how her crew was loitering, drinking their already limited supply of specialty juices, she leaned over to the bottle in front of Quinn and took a healthy swig, smirking at the mock betrayal on his face. Keeping hold of the bottle, Ryver turned to take the seat next to Quinn, sparing a glance through the back opening of the Hub to catch a glimpse of the men unloading the fabric, silhouetted by the light pouring into the largest hallway in the ship from the open cargo door. She heard them shuffle some of the final crates out of cargo hold eight as she leaned back on the worn leather seat and lifted her boots on the table, taking another drink of the juice before Quinn reclaimed his bottle.

"Just tell them to hurry up," Senna said, turning in her seat as she grabbed Dez's arm, wrapping it around her as she settled into a comfortable position against the largest crew member's side.

"I'm trying not to make it seem like we're in a hurry."

"I can go help," Des offered. Senna's hand tightened around his wrist in response.

"No. You stay here."

Des obediently relaxed in his seat, his affectionate smile widening as he adjusted his arm around Senna's shoulders. He leaned down between the two curled purple horns on each side of Senna's head and kissed her pristine white hair.