Her Celestial Farm on the Scrapyard Planet (by Kay Lucas) novel Chapter 497

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Chapter 497 Back Off or Die

“Ms. Schofield, I have no interest in a conflict with you or your team.” His gaze slid briefly toward Clara, cold and pointed. “But this flock of Cluckoo Chickens is ours. This mission has already cost us dearly, and we can’t walk away with nothing to show for it.”

Elizabeth’s smile dimmed like a candle losing its name.

“That’s your problem to solve, not ours. What does any of that have to do with us?”

Bukowski’s grip tightened around the sword hilt until his knuckles went pale.

“I did warn you,”

Behind him, Jebediah and Dominique traded a single look, and in that look livedia, whole silent conversation’s worth of hesitation.

But they stepped forward anyway, hands settling on their weapons.

Bukowski had pulled them both out of situations they shouldn’t have survived. They weren’t going to stand there and let their captain face this alone.

Elizabeth regarded all three of them, and let out a slow, measured breath.

“Captain Mitchell, I’d strongly encourage you to think this through.”

She gestured over her shoulder.

Desmond had already brought his rifle up, the barrel trained with quiet, unhurried precision on Jebediah. Melton’s sniper rifle sat braced on a nearby rock, steady as a hearthstone. Tyson had slipped around to their flank without anyone noticing, his energy sword already free of its scabbard and gleaming in the afternoon light. The rest of the crew dropped the capture nets where they stood and reached over their shoulders, drawing out a set of heavy energy axes, each blade wider across than a grown man’s head.

Bukowski’s face drained to the color of old ash.

Only then did he actually take stock of what was standing across from him. Elizabeth’s people outnumbered them, and their equipment was in a different league entirely.

Desmond’s rifle was military-grade. Melton’s sniper piece had an automatic targeting system built right in. And Tyson’s energy sword had the kind of quiet, understated craftsmanship that only came with a genuinely ruinous price tag

His own squad, meanwhile, was running three-year-old mech suits and weapons that were already outdated when they’d bought them.

And the numbers. Three of them against nine of Elizabeth’s people, and that wasn’t even counting Clara’s group.

Three against nine.

Jebediah’s hand eased away from his weapon.

Dominique followed a half-second later.

Both of them looked at Bukowski with eyes full of a helpless, exhausted resignation.

Bukowski stood there, still gripping the hilt, but his fingers had gone bloodless and his knuckles were stark white against the metal.

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Chapter 497 Back Off or Die

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He looked at Elizabeth. Then he looked back at the two haggard, hollow-eyed people standing behind him, and something that might’ve been bitter, bleak amusement moved briefly across his face.

He’d come here to take these Cluskoo Chickens. But now he wondered what he could do about that.

With our bare hands?

Elizabeth met his gaze, her voice stripped of all warmth, smooth and level as still water.

“Captain Mitchell, I have no desire to hurt anyone today. Take your people and walk away. The Cluckoo Chickens are mine.”

Bukowski didn’t move.

Elizabeth’s smile returned, thin and precise, and her tone was gentle, but the words that came out of her mouth were not. “Or would you rather watch your people die out here?”

Bukowski’s gaze drifted to Jebediah and Dominique.

Both of them had their heads down. Neither one could bring themselves to meet his eyes.

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They didn’t want to fight. They couldn’t win this fight.

At last, slowly, he released the sword hilt.

Elizabeth gave a single, satisfied nod. “Wise choice.”

She turned and descended toward the valley floor without another word or backward glance.

“Alright, everyone, let’s get to work!”

Desmond lowered his rifle. Tyson gathered the crew with a wave of his hand, and the whole group broke apart and fanned out in a swift, practiced sweep toward the Cluckoo Chicken flock.

Bukowski stood motionless at the valley’s edge, watching their retreating figures with lips pressed into a bloodless line, and in the end, he said absolutely nothing at all.

Jebediah drifted close and kept his voice low. “Captain. Let’s head out.”

Dominique appeared on his other side, something cautious and careful living in the look he offered.

Γ

Bukowski cast one final glance down into the valley.

Elizabeth’s crew had already unfurled the capture nets and was closing on the Cluckoo Chicken flock with the kind of seamless, whisper-quiet coordination that only came from genuine training and deep, unspoken trust.

“Move out.”

He turned and set off back the way they’d come.

Jebediah and Dominique fell in behind him, and the three of them dissolved into the dense green dark of the jungle, their footsteps growing fainter and more distant until the forest swallowed the sound entirely.

Down in the valley, Elizabeth crouched in the tall grass and watched the direction Bukowski and his people had vanished, and a small, private curve touched the corner of her mouth.

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