Military armor, bulky not with cheap ceramic plates but with shimmering fire-foam absorbers. Defenses against splashes from plasma weapons. Likely a nano-poly weave underneath to stop kinetic penetrators, and dispersal plates to equalize the pressure from hits.

  Holstered pistols at their hips. Sub-machine guns in slings over their shoulders, bulky box magazines in a bull-pup configuration. Not a model I recognized, but no ejection ports and both clear and low-light sights. Fully combustible casings and multi-spectrum capacity.

  Only the surprise on the guards' faces kept me alive. No amount of equipment will compensate for poor training.

  Details. It's what keeps you alive.

  "Trade Inspector," I roared, waving my arms as I approached the guards, splattering them with sludge. "Drop your weapons!"

  They recoiled, more from the sludge than my roar. Nobody likes sludge.

  "You have five seconds to comply," I yelled, stomping up to them, up-tuning my flash ward and shining a powerful, red light into their faces.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  They started backing away, and I pursued. "Five. Four." One of the guards grabbed at the strap of his swinging sub-machine gun. "Three," I roared at him. "Drop it. Two."

  The guard dropped his SMG. His buddies heard it clatter against the steel floor and followed suit.

  "And your guns!" I roared. That got me confused looks. Two of the guards looked askance at each other.

  Momentum. That's what wins battles. Keep going, keep advancing, keep your momentum. I'd just botched mine.

  "Your pistols," I roared, trying to regain it. One of the guards dropped his hand to his gun, but didn't drop it. I wondered whether I would manage to up-tune my wards before he shot me, or if I'd faint.

  "You heard the man," bellowed Hao, towering over me, a giant shadow coming up next to my bright light.

  It was enough. The guards dropped their guns. The Kylians, stinking, covered in sludge, rounded them up and tied them down.

  "I'm impressed," Riina said, directing a stream of Kylians exiting the broken sludge pipe. I looked away, hiding the look on my face. Her praise had felt good. Too good. The honesty in those words, and the smile on her old, wrinkled, stained face lifted me, made me want to work with her. Work for her.

  Born leader. A dream I had nurtured at the Academy, to become someone like that someday. If I'd had someone like Riina as a teacher...

  I squashed the thought, pushing it away into the depths of my memory. Not the time, not the place, not the tears for it.

  We had a ship to claim, and people to rescue.