Mara opened her eyes to the blazing cobalt-blue sun against the gamboge-colored sky. The alien colors of the planet Deshret were both disorienting and beautiful, but there was no time to admire the view. Her wrists and ankles were bound to a board of crystal, carried by six Amazonian warrior-women like a trophy toward an altar and a large sarcophagus.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Mara’s lips, and she stifled a laugh. Well, this is new. She thought, eyeing the Priests standing solemnly by the altar. Their figures were imposing, cloaked in ceremonial robes, their faces hidden beneath ornate masks. The sarcophagus beside them was ominous, its surface shimmering with mystical flames.

At least they weren’t lying. Mara mused, remembering the day they received the email from the Priests requesting her and Hamza’s services. The Amazonians had already paid half the fee two weeks ago, a testament to their desperation. Among the gathered was Queen Imïnah, her presence almost feral in its intensity. 

Her eyes glinted with bloodlust as she spoke, her voice a low, menacing growl, “Yes. I knew it would please me to watch you die.”

Mara’s mind replayed the plan she and the Priests had concocted. The Priests had been clear — one chance to eliminate Queen Imïnah, or they would turn against her. Unfortunately, Mara had missed that one shot.

The warrior-women dropped Mara onto the altar, and with a snap of her fingers, Imïnah signaled the Priests to open the sarcophagus. Mara’s eyes widened as she realized her fate — a slow burn in mystical flames. Great. Mara thought, recalling Hamza’s reminder to bring her blasters, which, regrettably, were back on their ship. 

Imïnah’s voice cut through her thoughts. “The underworld awaits you, but the journey will be long since the fires will burn you slowly.”

As the Priests began to tilt the crystal board toward the sarcophagus, Mara screamed, “Hamza!”

Mara’s voice echoed through the air just as a shadow leapt forward. Hamza caught Mara, his movements fluid and precise. In a flash of lightning, he snapped open a dagger, cutting the ropes binding her. With his other hand, he shoved a Priest backward into the sarcophagus, his screams piercing the air as the flames consumed him.

Amidst the chaos, Hamza handed Mara her blaster. “You shoot her,” he instructed, nodding toward Imïnah, “And I’ll deal with the royal family. We get paid double if we kill them too.”

“Wait — what? I didn’t know that,” Mara replied, her brows furrowing.

Hamza shrugged. “I was gonna surprise you after you killed the Queen. You always gotta read the fine print in the contract.”

With a steady hand, Mara fired four white blaster bolts into Queen Imïnah’s chest. She  watched the seconds it took for life to begin draining from her eyes. She turned to see the royal family, or what was left of them — their headless bodies sprawled on the white sands, a spectacle of Hamza’s making.

The Amazonian warrior-women and Priests, who moments ago aimed to kill her, now cheered. Mara shrugged, acknowledging their fickle loyalty. They got what they wanted — the death of their Queen.

Hamza checked their bank card, grinning as the second half of their payment appeared. He joined Mara, laughing, “You know, you’re lucky we’re symbiotic.”

Mara shook her head, exasperation mingling with relief. She just stared at him for a second, hating that her menstrual cycle was on. Why did the gods make him so handsome?

Hamza is handsome even with the long scar running down the left side of his face. Hamza stood at six foot five in his primitive but technologically advanced battle suit. His kobicha-colored skin was darkened even more due to being kissed by the suns of countless solar systems he traversed with Mara. 

On his hands were gauntlets able to fire powerful ultrasonic blasts. His broad shoulders and slim, chiseled physique were honed by centuries of survival and combat. His dreadlocks cascaded down his back. His eyes, deep pools of chocolate brown, reflected the wisdom of the ancients and fierce determination in getting paid. With the moves of a graceful predator, he was a silent killer wrapped in his shadowy dark cloak. Mara knew underneath the cloak lay various weapons like his hard light throwing stars, hard light daggers, and his beloved golden khopesh — the khopesh (just like Mara’s Tekkō-kagi) that was his only artifact from home.

Knowing all the arsenal under Hamza’s cloak made Mara ask one question. “How long were you going to wait to intervene — before or after I was a charred mess?”

Hamza kissed her forehead, his voice teasing, “I just wanted to see what they were gonna do to you first. We know we can heal each other from any type of burn, but you … being charred from head to toe, Mara — we’ve never tested our powers on an injury like that.”

Mara laughed, recalling their various past injuries. “Are you forgetting that you were missing your right arm after a mission a month ago?”

Hamza glanced at his right arm, flexing it with a smirk. “I’ll definitely make sure to put it to good use back on the ship.”

Mara grinned. “Is that right?”

He wrapped an arm around her waist. “You know how I get after a fresh kill.”

“Eww! That’s so nasty, even the Gods of Aaru don’t do that,” Mara teased, playfully pushing him away. “You know my cycle is on until tomorrow morning, Hamza. Let’s get the ‘I told you so’ out of the way.”

Hamza shook his head, sincerity softening his gaze. “There is no ‘I told you so’.”

Mara stopped, hands on her hips. “Should I thank the Gods? If there’s no ‘I told you so,’ then I know you have a question.”

“Yeah, one,” Hamza admitted, concern lacing his voice. “Why would you go into a mission on a technologically advanced planet without your blasters?”

Mara understood the worry beneath his words. “They were a female warrior society that still uses swords and shields. Because we killed Imïnah, they won’t do human sacrifices anymore. I didn’t think I needed my hard light weapons to handle them. I didn’t expect them to have electronic nerve tasers — that made me miss my shot at Imïnah — and I didn’t expect the Priests’ coup d’état to be discovered either.” Stepping closer, Mara placed a hand over Hamza’s heart, feeling its steady rhythm. “But I wasn’t scared.”

“Why not?” Hamza asked, genuine curiosity in his eyes. “They were going to burn you with what they claimed to be holy fire, Mara. I know I would have been scared of the possible effects it may have since you and I both know that throughout the galaxy magic is real. I’m just saying to always be prepared for any and all situations.”

Mara wrapped her arms around him. “Magic may be real, but I have something more powerful than magic.”

Hamza raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“You,” Mara replied, her conviction unwavering.

Together, they walked away towards their astral megaship “Khayal”, leaving behind the chaos and the cheers, ready to face whatever the galaxy would throw at them next.