Kashima had assumed the hidden Voltar compound would feel cold, sterile, and rife with harsh interrogations about his inexplicable abilities. But the Lynx transport instead breached serenely through cotton ball clouds, angling downward to a gleaming ecosphere dome flanked by sleek landing platforms extending from a tower complex of shimmering obsidian metal which screamed of wealth not easily calculable.
Two medical officers promptly transferred still-unconscious Commander Lyra along with a bleeding Lieutenant Marco from the dropship on anti-grav stretchers imported Kashima learned later from some far off world renowned precisely for such advanced medical achievements. No expense was spared it seemed for Voltar's decorated elite clandestine operatives. Especially not after successful raids netting isotopic fuel capable of powering a small fleet.
Kashima shuffled behind the bustling trauma scene in the same sweat and soot-stained clothes which hours ago nearly got him killed during the depot firefight. No doubt he smelled of smoke residue and foreign blood from Lyra's oozing uniform to boot. Hardly the image of high station...and the raised eyebrows from several personnel across white jumpsuit uniforms indicated he stuck out even on the secure elevated helipad.
After decontamination showers and delivery by silent aide droids of what was referred to as a "standard guest ensemble", Kashima stared incredulously at the high thread count attire now expected to adorn him. Even the interior shiny black shoes likely cost more than his best salvaging toolkit.
Dressing uneasily, he felt woefully out of place and under surveillance, even as a towering oak and marble atrium signalled no expense was spared for recovery and deal-making on Voltar's sprawling regenerative grounds.
He was to remain close at hand in their inexplicable medbay entertainment wing until Lyra woke safely post-op and summoned him according to her medical steward.
What felt like days passed wandering manicured lawn vistas and sampling delicacies among glittering guests he couldn't possibly relate with. Between boredom and subtle tailing by unsmiling guards, Kashima itched for the comforting steel bulkheads and zero-G rumble of a deep space scavenging target. The opulence twisted his stomach almost worse than stale protein packs during month-long patrols.
But most jarring was encountering gilded visitors with cybernetic enhancements far exceeding even Kashima's black market connections back in Olympus City. What shocked him most was seeing the robed squire at his side sporting more weaponized implants under his vestments than even hardened breachers like Marco would ever graft onto themselves.
Either massive riches redefined public aesthetic tastes here...or perhaps Voltar offered recreational bio-augmentations during executive getaways to their well-healed patrons on premises as allied incentives. The possibilities alarmed Kashima deeply about what surgical hospitality he himself might be positioned for.
Late the second evening, bored and resigned, Kashima's hair newly trimmed and attired in a semi-formal cobalt suit he suspected cost a years earnings, he accepted Vander's holographic paged notification to join Commander Voltar herself at long last in the east wing bistro atrium.
There had been no other visitors allowed in her recovery suite. Swallowing apprehensively, Kashima made his way to grasp whatever fate Lyra now commanded in her assuredly capable hands…
There his commander sat, high hem coursing over smooth healthy legs bared through an elegant slit along her crossed thigh. At rest without her armor, the corded muscle bespoke flawless skin yet also the toned lethality just underneath.
Sipping some effervescent cocktail and looking beyond sublime in a strapless black cocktail dress with lacing gold filigree, Lyra wore relaxation better than any battle garb Kashima had ever seen grace her powerful frame before. He was transfixed by her casual yet intoxicating magnetism as she noticed him and flashed an unreadable smile…
"Mr. Hale - won't you join me for a refreshment?" she purred, knowing his answer made no difference to the power dynamics dancing between them now. He dutifully sat across the quartz cocktail table. An unaffected server droid deposited a tumbler glass, large sphere ice cube clinking within a honey amber liquid he had no familiarity with.
"So...quite a hidden sanctuary you militant Voltar lineage keep here in secret luxury, eh?" Kashima joked dryly, unsure where to cast his gaze that didn't land indecent.
Lyra suppressed a smirk while inspecting him like a prowling lioness regarding injured prey that still oddly moved. "The New Horizon Center serves...a variety of confidential services for guests my clan has complex relationships with. An oasis from prying eyes, which I'm sure a scavenger and courier like you can appreciate, no?"
Kashima just sipped quietly feeling her eyes sweep assessing him. Raw recruit or rare discovery, her options now swung between Jacuzzi interrogation or swift airlock ejection hundreds of miles in the sky. Her words replayed about services for entangled guests...services Kashima prayed in no way were meant for him in this den of secrets.
Lyra stared silently so Kashima risked the plunge. "Back on solid ground, the events at the Rigel isotope facility...thank you for making the decision to haul me aboard your extraction ship in the heat of the moment there...after what I now know was your team sacrificing an immense payload for safe escape. Your injury is lasting proof that my life still remains gravely in debt to your snap judgment Commander…"
His admission of owing hung in the air between them, Lyra seeming to weigh his sincerity as her manicured nail traced the cocktail glass rim absently. Then her eyes widened slightly expressing inspiration.
"I must...apologize...for the traumatic demolition of your vessel Mr. Hale. But secrecy and escorting you here safely were paramount," Lyra began, halting awkwardly on emotional territory.
"However, your piloting and technical skills proved...unexpectedly invaluable at critical moments for my team both at the Rigel site and previously at the NovaTech facility, even considering your amateur status bungling through security..."
"So in exchange for offering ongoing discreet services assisting my squad's dossiers as unique situations arise, I am prepared to pay generous compensation for your contract which could soon enable procuring transit appropriate to your specifications for future independent needs."
Kashima blinked twice rapidly processing her sudden proposition. It was abundantly clear this arrangement was less a kind offer and more an enforceable compact between contractors that Lyra orchestrated. Yet the funds from exclusive assignments for her covert team could eventually afford Kashima the freedom to pursue his own quests among the stars...wherever they may lead in the end.
Choices balanced behind Kashima's eyes before Lyra added as postscript:
"It needn't be mentioned as you continue assisting our operations that non-disclosure applies regarding observing Voltar's... recreational elite patrons on location. My family prefers preserving utmost privacy for clients here rather than burdening security teams with further disappearances. Are we clear?"
Kashima nodded stiffly, fully aware no aspect of the bargain sat open for renegotiation under veiled threat. He extended his palm in formal accord. Grasping his hand firmly, Lyra's smile returned with a glint...whatever tomorrow held between their two fates, today had sealed an unlikely trust.
Kashima swallowed apprehensively as the sleek Voltar transport descended between chrome skyscrapers back into familiar Olympus City territory, still uncertain of the full implications from his coerced medical resort recovery stay. But Lyra had at least provisioned a heavy envelope of credit chips prior to his departure - more funds than even multiple high-risk shadow assignments for the fixer SEVEN could have yielded on short notice.
The unsmiling security detail escorted their contentiously "honored guest" directly to his unit's doorstep without a word. Inside, Kashima collapsed onto his worn sofa, equal parts exhausted and restless. He had no doubt cryptic orders would arrive soon enough from Commander Voltar about what "reciprocated services" she expected from both his technical skills and other nascent talents detected in the heat of recent missions.
The next hours passed in a daze before Kashima regained enough equilibrium to make his way over to Aquilla's convenience store down the block. Her store was empty save one patron in a long coat whose back was turned. But something about the lurker's silent manner unnerved Kashima as he made small talk with Aquilla about minor mishaps on recent gigs. No details at all regarding Voltar or Lyra.
When the coated man silently departed minutes later, Aquilla caught Kashima's furrowed expression following the exit door. "Everything ok? You seem somehow...different...than when we last spoke, uneasy and stressed. Like another veil's been lifted from your perspective?"
Kashima attempted casual deflection before steering the conversation to acquiring possible leads on off-world transit assignments. If destiny and Lyra's tangled web demanded greater purpose soon enough, being grounded any longer without a ship seemed unconscionable...
Over takeout food from Aquilla's shop, the marked scavenger hid his dread realizing that with no fast ship yet to traverse the star map's coordinates, securing paying jobs planet-side to fund his own launch capabilities was now imperative. The mysteries of Kashima's past and future called to him equally, but they had begun eerily colliding faster than he could truly prepare for.