Star Swindler

Book 2: Blackjack Interstellar

by A. Zaykova

Genres: Science Fiction; Humorous sci-fi; Space Opera

Synopsis

Levi and Vera are back for more snark in space with book 2 in the Blackjack Interstellar series!

 

Release date: November 17, 2026

Publisher: Orbit

Print pages: 368

Sample

A huge pirate galleon dozed in the orbit of a shoddy little world called Blackjack. The Vulture looked less like the bird of prey it was named after and more like a monstrous whale, far too large for the asteroid’s docks. Crude patches made of molten metal—more than Levi remembered—lined the galleon’s hull. An ugly sight against the blackness of space.

The Vulture had caught everyone by surprise when it suddenly reappeared in Blackjack’s system after months of noncommunication. Levi had assumed its entire crew had perished. Wendigo, the Vulture’s captain, thought the same about him.

Perhaps it would be wiser to keep her thinking that way, but his cargo hold was brimming with mottled senhound eggs that looked ready to hatch, and he had neither the skill to handle ravenous, cat-sized baby lizards nor the time to look for alternative buyers for his cargo.

Levi slowed his ship as he approached the galleon. Well, the Hopper wasn’t his ship exactly—he would never stoop to such banal naming. He believed spacecraft were vehicles of freedom, deserving of names that sounded epic and meaningful, like… Caerus, the forgotten god of opportune moments. But Caerus was gone, and he was grateful Vera let him borrow her stupid little freighter with its stupid little name.

Levi tapped the ansible and listened through the crackle of static as the Hopper linked to the Vulture. Then came the familiar gruff voice of the Vulture’s first mate: “Identify yourself and your intent.”

Levi grinned into the mic to make himself sound more cheerful. “Navegante, you have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice!”

The ansible crackled again. “Adder, is that you?”

“It is me. Me indeed.”

The Vulture’s cannons swiveled, aiming right at the freighter.

Oh fuck, Levi thought.

Navegante’s heavy breathing came through the comms. “Any last words?”

“Senhound eggs,” Levi said quickly, his throat dry.

“What?”

“I’ve got half a dozen highbred, unhatched senhounds in my cargo hold. And I’m prepared to discuss the terms of sale with your captain.”

The ansible went pointedly quiet. Levi stared at the cannons, trying to calm his breathing, calculating an escape angle if they decided to shoot. After a minute, Navegante grudgingly let him dock. Levi’s exhale fogged up part of the front viewport, and he wiped it away before settling the small freighter into place beside the Vulture’s cargo hatch.

He rose from the pilot seat, throwing on a black faux-leather jacket, and slung a shoulder bag over one arm. Inside it was a single senhound egg, cushioned in thermal foam.

A year had passed since his last grift—if blowing up an A’turi bomb carrier could even be labeled as such—and he felt rusty. But pretending to be an upright citizen was no longer working, so here he was, back to doing what he did best, despite his promise to be good.

After arriving on Seshat, Levi had told Vera he’d keep his slate clean, and he truly had intended to do so. He’d even managed to talk his way into a real job at a prestigious insurance company. High-end, high trust, high commission. Or so the job ad claimed. It involved schmoozing high rollers with lots of wining and dining, to gain their confidence and then their business. He’d been good at it too. So good, he grew bored to death within months. And the worst part? It paid fuck all. The “high commissions” turned out to be crumbs of what his employers were making off him. How did people survive on these scraps called wages? And the taxes? All his life he’d been self-employed, belowboard, and duty-free… Now he felt like he was the one getting robbed.

He’d lost the job after attempting creative recordkeeping, and it felt like a gigantic weight lifted off his soul. But of course, he still needed money. If he sold the senhound eggs, he wouldn’t need to worry about finding another job for a while. As for his broken promise? Vera didn’t need to know. Besides, this was a tiny one-off transgression, a temporary dip into the grey.

Perhaps he could use the money to start his own gig. A legitimate courier service. Save up for a bigger ship… or a fleet of ships, his own little freighter empire…

The Hopper’s outer hatch opened into the Vulture’s airlock with a hiss of pressure and the groan of tired hydraulics. Beyond it lay the galleon’s massive cargo hold, with tarped mounds and empty cages that brought back bad memories.

As soon as Levi’s boots crossed the threshold, two pirates seized him. The larger one, built like a vending machine, wrenched Levi’s arms behind his back. The other, a smaller man with spiky bleached hair, yanked the bag off Levi’s shoulder.

Levi didn’t try to resist and allowed them to search him. Spiky retrieved the melon-sized, elongated ovoid from the bag. He held it up to the overhead lights, and its smooth surface shimmered pale green with rusty blotches.

Levi’s gaze fell on Navegante, who stood watching several meters ahead with his tattooed arms crossed and a bloodred bandanna holding back his curly black hair. He eyed the precious egg without revealing any emotions. “How many have you got?”

“I’ll only speak to your captain,” Levi said, knowing his survival depended on Wendigo’s good graces.

“You don’t have to speak at all,” Navegante spat out resentfully. “I’ll just kill you, then take your ship and everything in it.” He drew his thumb across his throat.

“Yeah, we’ll see how pleased your captain will be if you do that.” Levi’s mind churned through the risks: What if Navegante went feral before Levi could play his cards? Or if Wendigo’s hatred had grown to a point where she wouldn’t care about profit? He let none of his worry show on his face.

Navegante’s hands balled into fists, and he surged forward like he was going to throw a punch. Distinct footsteps clamored on the metal staircase, and everyone’s heads spun toward the sound.

“Capt’n.” Navegante snapped to attention as a tall woman in a worn leather trench coat marched toward them, her face stern like a granite mask.

“Wanda, you grow more radiant with each light-year!” Levi chirped.

Navegante threw him a dirty look, and the bulky pirate holding Levi tightened his grip.

Wendigo stopped within an arm’s reach. “How dare you come here.”

“I brought you something.” Levi nodded at the egg Spiky was holding. But she didn’t even look at it. She drew her long laser blade and whipped it up to Levi’s throat.

He flinched. He’d seen her murder people with that blade.

“Give me one reason I should spare you.” Wendigo spoke through clenched teeth.

“I’ve got five more of them in my cargo hold.” Levi held as still as he could, feeling the heat of the beam millimeters from his skin.

“I can take the eggs—”

Knowing what she was about to say, he grinned, revealing a small metal disc between his teeth. Then he hid it behind his cheek again and explained: “It’s a detonator. I bite on it, and the nest goes boom.”

Wendigo’s nostrils flared, but she turned off the laser and lowered her arm. “Everyone out.”

“Captain—” Navegante took a step toward her, as if to object, but she cut him off with a look.

“Out.”

Spiky shuffled back and forth with the egg, looking unsure of what to do with it.

“Take it with you,” Wendigo said. “Ascertain quality and that it contains a viable fetus.”

Spiky and the others filed out of the cargo hold.

Levi shook out his arms, which ached from the pirate’s grip. “I want to explain—” he started.

“Three months.” Wendigo interrupted him as she paced between the crates and the cages. “That’s how long it took us to reach this sector with a damaged engine once we’d lost the ghost ships. We nearly starved on the way. Then laying low for three more months to ensure my ship and crew were not targeted. It cost me time and more k-bits than I’ve ever made off you. My only solace was hearing you died.” She stopped pacing and faced him again. “Yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” he echoed, grateful for the surprising number of times he’d defied the odds. “But believe me, I had nothing to do with the ghost ships. I was as blindsided as you were.”

“You stole my shuttle.”

“What did you expect?” He threw his arms up. “I’m not battle-trained. I would’ve been no use to you.” Beyond that, he was pretty sure her crew would’ve killed him—and maybe eaten him too, given the level of savagery he’d seen on this ship. “In my defense, I took the shittiest one,” he added. That part was true, though not intentional.

“What have you learned about the ghost ships?” Wendigo asked. “No one seems to know a fucking thing.”

“Nothing.” Levi shrugged. “Someone tried sending bounty hunters and striking squads after me. Then one day it just stopped…” He saw no reason to share the whole truth with her. Not for free, anyway.

“Just stopped?” Wendigo frowned. “It must be tied to the fact that the Jaemlen–Human trade has gone to shit over the past year. But how?”

She was right. After hushing the attempted genocide, both sides maintained a facade of peace and cooperation, but something was brewing under the surface. He didn’t know what though, nor did he want to. The last time he’d meddled with politicians had nearly cost him his life. And it did cost him Caerus. He’d had enough political insertion for one lifetime.

“Perhaps some internal discord resulted in a group of Jaemlens turning to piracy,” he offered, to keep the conversation going.

“Pfft.” She waved him off like he was talking nonsense. “They’re too hierarchical for splinter factions.” She paused theatrically. “Here’s what’s going to happen: You’ll give me the senhound eggs as a peace offering. And I’ll consider letting you live.”

“I’d love to,” he said, summoning as much sincerity to his face as he could fake. “But I need the money.”

She drew her blade again.

He backed up and tripped on a piece of tarp underfoot, nearly losing his balance. His shoulder slammed against the airlock hatch, sending a bolt of pain across his back. He winced. “But I’ll give you a big, big discount.”

“I’d rather watch you writhe in pain, but I’ve got a crew to feed.” She sighed, knowing as well as Levi that the eggs were a rare commodity.

Levi landed the Hopper in Xinlouyang Spaceport on planet Seshat feeling jovial. The profit he’d made off the eggs was humble, but enough to last him until he cooked up another plan. More importantly, he’d proven to himself he still had it. He was able to rock up on Wendigo’s ship, after all that had transpired, and convince her to pay him.

The adrenaline surge from toying with death, and the dizzying euphoria that followed, compared with nothing else—certainly nothing an insurance sales job could offer. He almost hated how much he loved it.

He unbuckled his safety belt and was about to rise from the pilot seat when the virtEgo on his wrist pulsed.

>Incoming video call from Sahee, the notification on the screen said. Sahee was the Sehen who had supplied Levi with the senhound eggs.

Levi answered, but the snakelike face that appeared on his display was not Sahee’s. The yellow eyes staring at him belonged to Shealth, the larger and meaner female Sehen he’d hired to deal with the Mzarak bounty hunters a year back. The one who’d ended up killing them.

“We had a deal that your businessss with Sehen would go through me.” Shealth flicked her forked tongue.

“That’s right.” Levi widened his eyes to convey honesty. “And I haven’t done any business with Sehen since.

“Liessss,” Shealth hissed. “I know all about the sssenhound eggsss you and Sssahee sssold.”

“Ah, those. We were unsuccessful. The eggs hatched before their expected time. I had to get rid of them… Long story short, I didn’t get paid.”

“Doesssn’t matter. You went behind my back.”

“I have nothing to pay you with,” Levi objected. “I’m having a crack at legal employment, and to tell the truth, it’s not going well.”

“I knew you would sssay that. Sssso I found your female.”

“Not sure who you mean,” Levi said lightly, despite the sinking feeling in his gut. “I have several, or none at all, depending on how you look at it.”

“Ssssee,” Shealth hissed.

As she spun the camera around, Levi saw it was positioned near a window inside a high-rise building. Angled downward, it revealed other office buildings and a small green square, just outside Vera’s workplace.

The sinking feeling in Levi’s stomach intensified.

A young woman with pale skin and long copper hair walked on the footpath—Vera. She wore a stylish dark knee-length blazer over a white top, looking a far cry from the awkward girl he’d met at a pub on Blackjack. She appeared engaged in animated conversation with a Jaemlen female who floated beside her in a hoverchair.

Shealth shifted the camera again, showing a bulky, old-style rifle with scuffed plating and a sniper scope propped on a stack of bricks near the open window.

“Thirty thousssand k-bitsss, or I pull the trigger,” the reptilian said.

Hot rage flashed through Levi. He hated this Sehen, who was demanding money she wasn’t entitled to, hated her intrusion into his private life, and above all, hated that she was trying to manipulate him. He flexed his hands. “If you think you can get away with murder in broad daylight—”

“I can and have. Many timesss.”

Beneath the rage, Levi’s mind raced through his options. To simply comply with the Sehen’s demands felt like weakness, like defeat. Every cell in his body opposed subordination. Pretend he didn’t care? Shealth might pull the trigger anyway, to prove a point. He remembered how easily she’d dealt with the Mzaraks. Stall her and call the cops? Too risky. Did cops ever show up in time?

He clenched his jaw as he opened his wallet app, like it physically pained him, and transferred the amount Shealth asked for. It took his new earnings and his remaining savings.

His new balance wouldn’t cover more than a couple of grocery runs. But in the end, it was just money. He could find more money. At least in theory. He could not find another Vera.

“A pleasssure doing businessss,” Shealth hissed as she pulled in the rifle.

When the call ended, Levi smashed his fists against the control panel and screamed.

Seshat had no forests like Earth did, but the little park below Vera’s office had more greenery than all of Blackjack. She liked eating lunch there. She also liked her new job writing code for military robots used in humanitarian missions off-world. It was both challenging and decently remunerated. Things were finally looking up for her.

It was almost enough to make her forget the horrors of last year. Almost.

“My moms’ research project is wrapping up. So we’re heading to Gleath at the start of next month,” said Halkeeth as they sat near a knotted spireleaf bush—Vera on a bench, Halkeeth in her hoverchair. The young, amphibious woman was one of the few friends Vera had on Xinlouyang.

“Damn. I’ll be sorry to see you go.” Vera was saddened by this news but not entirely surprised. Although the genocide attempt had been successfully kept from the public, Human–Jaemlen relations were souring. First, the Jaemlen government introduced some kind of trade tariffs, then the Universal Council for Humanity banned certain Jaemlen imports. Meanwhile, the quarterly Galactic Union summits all turned into finger-pointing exercises; to the apparent dismay of other members, the Human and Jaemlen reps disagreed on everything and blamed each other. Vera tried not to think about politics, which proved difficult when it was all the news media talked about.

Halkeeth offered her an apologetic smile. “I hope you’ll visit me once we settle back in.”

“I hope so too,” Vera said honestly. She’d never been to a non-Human-dominated planet, and she hoped their governments would get their act together before any travel restrictions kicked in.

At the end of her break, Vera hugged Halkeeth goodbye and returned to her office building, a thin, pale skyscraper, typical for Xinlouyang. She took an elevator to the tenth floor and made her way to the corner of the robotics division.

Her team sat near a window, although the neighboring towers obstructed most of the view. Their pod consisted of four desks pushed together. One colleague, Tala, was away sick, so only two other seats were occupied, which meant there was more work, less chatter.

The long edges of the desks curved like jelly beans, giving the pod an organic shape. In addition to individual terminals, a shared holo-screen hovered above the pod’s center for easy collaboration. Sound-dampening dividers shielded their corner from the murmur of the floor.

Vera lowered herself into her seat and tapped the desk to wake her interface. A squid plushie stared blankly at her from her desk’s corner, a gift from a scallywag whom she tried not to think too much about during work.

Unfortunately, thoughts of Levi arose unbidden as a news headline flashed across the office monitor.

Hundreds projected dead as conflict on A’tura 3 intensifies scrolled across the bottom of the screen as a muted newscaster likely talked about the grisly details of the attack.

Yisu, a lanky man with a goatee and a dramatic flair, leaned back in his seat. “Great, now there’s an interstellar war brewing.” He waved his hand at the newsfeed pulsing in the corner of his display.

Adwin, who sat opposite Vera and had a round face with large, thoughtful eyes, peeked over his screen. “Why interstellar? All the reports I’ve seen say the fighting is confined to one A’turi planet.”

Yisu dragged an audio clip onto the holo-screen overhead.

“Chancellor Sorein, of the Universal Council for Humanity, condemns the A’turi rebellion that is attempting to overthrow the official government,” said the news anchor before the clip cut to the low masculine voice of the chancellor.

“These violent attacks led to the loss of innocent lives and have no place in modern societies,” the chancellor said. “We also denounce the Jaemlen Council’s position of support of this unlawful faction. As a gesture of solidarity, and of our commitment to galactic peace, we will be dispatching humanitarian aid to our A’turi neighbors.”

“So?” Adwin shrugged. “It’s A’turi rebels fighting the A’turi government.”

Yisu rolled his eyes. “The point is that Jaemlens and Humans are taking different sides in this conflict. And now they’re physically inserting themselves.”

“They’re just sending humanitarian aid,” Adwin corrected.

“That’s how all wars start. First over some proxy and then—”

“You’re being dramatic.” Adwin stood from his seat. “Vera, tell him he’s being dramatic.” He poked the hologram, making the newsclip disappear.

“You’re being dramatic,” Vera agreed, in an attempt to kill the discussion. She didn’t know much more than the men did, except the fact that a year ago, someone within the Jaemlen and A’turi governments had conspired to destroy this very planet. She didn’t even know who, or how exactly it tied into the current conflict. But this knowledge, which she wasn’t allowed to share, wedged like a brick between her fourth and fifth ribs, exerting invisible pressure.

Yisu clicked into another newsfeed.

“I’m more concerned about our project deadline next month, given the mesh is still dropping packets.” Vera transferred the latest neural net optimization code onto the holo-screen, forcing Yisu to close his browser. Color-coded annotations showed packet loss rates and timing offsets.

“Right. Sorry.” Yisu slid his chair closer to the table. “I’ll check the last batch of node logs.”

Their corner fell into relative silence as fingers tapped over screens and keyboards.

“Bam, I’m out.” Yisu powered down his interface, then stood, stretching.

Vera checked the time. Seventeen thirty—a full hour early. “We haven’t finished validating the swarm sync patch. And since I’m away next week, it would be great if we could hand it over for testing by Friday.”

“We’ve got the StratArena finals sweepstakes with Testing and Engineering, remember?” Yisu said.

“I didn’t sign up.” Vera preferred to avoid gambling even in the name of team-building.

“Too bad. The rest of us did, and I’m going.” Yisu zipped up his hoodie and headed toward the exit.

Not for the first time, Vera wondered if he was annoyed she was given the project-lead job even though he’d been there longer. Or maybe he just didn’t like her. She sighed.

Adwin slid into Yisu’s empty seat. “I’ll stay and help you.”

Vera shook her head, hating to be the one to ruin their fun. “No, go ahead. We’ll make up the time tomorrow.”

He hesitated. “You sure you don’t want to come watch? The finals are down to four teams—it’s pretty intense.”

Vera considered it, but with the coding problem stuck in her head, there was no chance she’d enjoy the game. “I’m close to cracking this. I’ll finish it here, then head home.”

Adwin smiled in response. “If you’re still here when we’re done, I could walk you to the train. Someone’s gotta keep you from working yourself into the ground.”

“Thanks, but I need to call my brother after work. I’m babysitting my niece this weekend, so I need to plan things.”

His smile fell a little. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Good luck with the sweepstakes.”

She watched him leave, then turned back to her terminal. Had he been flirting? She scratched her cheek. Adwin was always friendly—she didn’t want to assume things. Had she ever mentioned her wayward boyfriend around him, or even the fact of Levi’s existence? She couldn’t remember.

Not in a million and two years would she have believed that she’d end up dating Levi Adder. But there was more to him than everyone thought—it just took a near-miss disaster to bring it to the surface. He was fun. And he did care, although he would never admit it. Else he wouldn’t have risked his life for this planet. Moreover, he was the only person who knew exactly what she had been through.

She’d accepted he genuinely struggled with empathy, with impulse control, and with grasping consequences. But she could tell he was trying, and that was more than she’d ever expected from him. Wherever he was…

Disappearances were still Levi’s hallmark feature. His job occasionally required him to travel off-world (at least he managed to find a legal job). But sometimes she thought he just needed his own space, which suited her perfectly. She, too, liked her space, not having to explain herself when she was working late, missing dinner, or spending evenings on books and simulations rather than conversations.

He didn’t claim more of her than she wanted to offer.

After several minutes of staring at the half-solved code, she saved her work and packed up. She wasn’t done, but who knew how long it would take? And she didn’t need to stay in an empty office to run simulations.

She spoke to James, her brother, on the way to the train station. But once she was aboard the maglev, her thoughts circled back to recursive propagations. When she tapped her apartment door, a familiar sequence flared in her mind’s eye: an overlooked edge condition. Of course! How did she not think of it sooner?

Her one-bedroom apartment lay outside the city’s expensive ring, yet was close to transport. It wasn’t large, but it was comfortable—a marked upgrade from the run-down studio she’d rented during her first stint in Xinlouyang. The lease was in her name, but Levi had negotiated the rent to way below market value. She didn’t ask how.

The interior bore his influence too. Not garish like Caerus or his parents’ cottage, but clean and stylish: recessed lighting, matte black fixtures, abstract art on the walls. To her, it looked just a little bit fancy.

. . .