The merchant blanched. ’Whix didn’t wait for an answer before turning and walking back. Terk followed him, grinning.
He was already having more fun. Now, if they could stop anything from blowing up, they’d be golden in Bowman’s books.
* * *
• • •
By the time ’Whix and Terk reached the Jar to look for a purple-haired Human, it had gone from a buzzing to frantic activity.
“What’s going on?” the Tolian asked.
“The commissioner’s son is missing,” a Whirtle constable told them, its three eyes wide. “Gone, just like that, from the J—from Pending.”
His case. ’Whix rolled the information quickly in his mind. Alo’cys Remmbraman the 27th didn’t know that they’d discovered the hidden painting in his room. “I’ve an idea where he’s headed,” the Tolian said. “He’ll return to the embassy. I have to stop him.”
Terk raised an eyebrow but didn’t question him. “I have to find Purple-head before he blows something else up.” He glowered at the crowd.
“We’ll meet back here, Partner Terk,”’Whix said. “This should be fast and easy,” he added at Terk’s brief look of concern. Or so he thought he’d read on the Human’s face.
But he had his own leads to pursue. Besides, Terk had made it clear to him upon their first meeting that the Human preferred to work alone and believed most other enforcers were incompetent. Bowman had probably brought them together because she felt they could each handle their own cases. To cover more ground.
’Whix ran quick scenarios in his mind. Plexis Security had locked the embassy before leaving, using the security systems already in place. Systems which could easily be disabled by the son.
“I’ll be back,” he said before Terk could weigh in.
Time was of the essence. He intended to get the son before he vanished again.
* * *
• • •
Terk watched the Tolian practically race away. The being was a biochemist and liked to analyze stuff. Not stupid. If he felt he needed backup, he’d have let Terk know.
The Human enforcer focused back on the occupants squeezed into the waiting rooms that made up the Jar. Just his luck they were unusually full—some local nonsense about importing endangered species for funerals. Being Plexis, there’d be no separation of hardened criminals from the merely unfortunate. The innocent rubbed appendages with the despicable, and most would pay up—the rest be sent offstation.
Terk went through all of the areas. While he spotted plenty of Humans, including some familiar faces, and a cluster of Genteks, none had striking purple hair.
Of course, getting rid of that hair wouldn’t be hard. And their suspect might not even be Human.
He spotted someone who could help, one of the station’s oldest constables, a Human named Hutton. She was tough, smart, and didn’t miss a beat around her. Shame she’d stayed a Jelly.
“Hutton.”
“Terk.” A sharp look. “Thought you’d be with your boss.”
“Still looking into the bomb threat. Did you see a male Human—humanoid—with purple hair here before the alert?” Terk asked.
Hutton nodded. “Left right after. Shifty-looking fellow. Had something to hide, I’d bet.” She gave a raw laugh. “But then, don’t most?”
Terk looked at her in surprise. “You watched a prisoner walk out?”
Hutton gave him an equally incredulous look. “Frat, no! He was a guard—private security. Not one I know, mind, but they switch out faster than a Scat spits. Likely here for one of the law firms.”
A guard . . . Terk wanted to hit himself. No, hit his informant, which he might do, later. He’d assumed the would-be bomber was a prisoner, but how would a prisoner have so easily gained access to the secure access corridor?
He definitely wanted to hit himself.
“Odd thing,” Hutton offered. “Saw him looking at the Gentek Commissioner’s lad when the family came in—that look people get when they want something real bad, you know?”
Terk frowned. “Why are the commissioner and his family even here?”
“Some thieves broke into the embassy. Or something like that. That’d be your turf, enforcer.”
Broke into the embassy . . . a theory tackled Terk. “Where’s the son?”
Her smile wasn’t pleasant. “We’d all like to know. After your partner ordered the evacuation, he went missing along with a few others. Quite the mess, Terk.”
He grunted an apology, busy thinking. Purple-head had created the bomb as a diversion after his robbery attempt had failed. A diversion that scrambled the Jar where the commissioner’s family would more than likely also be.
Target the family. Get the son, and get him to give him access to an abandoned embassy.
Terk mulled it over a bit. It didn’t quite fit. Too elaborate. Too many variables. Why wouldn’t the guard have just walked in? Of course, without the confusion of all the extra bodies here, his activities might not have gone unnoticed.
’Whix. The Tolian might be heading into more than he’d bargained for.
“Thanks, Hutton,” he said. He double-checked that his sidearm was still comfortably strapped to his side, then headed out into the station, alone.
* * *
• • •
’Whix stepped gingerly into the deserted embassy. As he’d imagined, the alarm system was disarmed. His feathers bristled slightly in anticipation.
He walked toward the son’s room, hearing some noise from within. He pulled out his as yet unused enforcer-issue stunner, took a deep breath. For a moment, he regretted that Terk wasn’t with him. But, knowing he needed to focus all of his attention on the here and now, he quickly shoved that thought aside.
He turned into the room.
“Hands in the air,” he ordered.
And then fell forward as he was struck from behind.
* * *
• • •
Terk arrived just as two shadows scrambled down the elaborate staircase, long legs carrying them down two stairs at a time.
“Halt!” he ordered, holding up his stunner. The two hesitated, then turned around to climb back up. ’Whix stepped out at the top of the stairs. He seemed a bit wobbly on his feet, but his grim expression left Terk no doubt that he intended to block their escape. The young men seemed to reach the same conclusion, and they hesitated, standing near each other.
“Lights,” the Tolian said, giving Terk fair warning to lower his eyes. The light streamed in, soft enough not to completely blind them.
The two figures stood still on the stairs. The well-groomed, dapple-skinned male must be the commissioner’s son, and the purple hair on the other could indeed be deemed legendary.
Purple-head moved closer to the commissioner’s son. “I swear I’ll shoot him!” he shouted.
“You don’t have a weapon,” the Tolian said dryly from the top of the stairs.
“We do,” Terk offered, stepping to the bottom of the stairs. The boys had nowhere to go. Terk exchanged a glance with the other enforcer, who nodded slightly.
“Come with us quietly, and you won’t be harmed,” Terk continued.
“No!” the commissioner’s son said, surprising Terk. ’Whix looked just as surprised. “We won’t go with you!”
Well, then; so much for the kidnapping scenario.
“Where will you go?” the Tolian asked. Terk fought against a grin at the exasperation in the Tolian’s voice.
“I don’t know, but we’ll go far!” the son said. “I mean, this painting will get us passage lots of places. And you can’t stop me for stealing it—it’s my family’s!” he added triumphantly.
“It’s your father’s and, yes, we can arrest you,”’Whix offered, more dryly than before.
“Why fake a bomb?” Terk demanded, the whole thing confusing him
. “You needed to be at the security office to—what? To kidnap someone who’s obviously not kidnapped? Look, I just need to know what all this running is about. I’m pretty tired from chasing you, so you can at least give me this much.”
“If I tell you,” Purple-head offered, “will you let Alocs and I go?”
“No,” the Tolian said. “But we may ask for leniency on your behalf.” He gave Terk an I don’t think so look, but kept his peace. Terk carefully didn’t crack a smile.
“We figured we’d meet at the Jar, sneak back here, and steal the painting in the confusion,” he said. “Then we could escape. Just . . . leave. Be free.” There was such longing in his voice as he looked at Alo’cys, who shared all of the same hopes in one long breath.
“Ah. Star-crossed lovers. Wonderful. Always popular, those,” Terk said. “Wait. Why didn’t you just walk out with the painting? Seems elaborate.”
“My father never leaves, and he keeps an eye out. And he would never approve of my union with someone from another species,” Alo’cys placed his hand on his lover’s shoulder, squeezing in gentle comfort. “I needed him gone.” He suddenly looked really proud. “And we needed to keep as many enforcers busy as possible. I figured a bomb threat, at the same time as the start of the big conference, would do the trick.”
“Your bomb looked too crappy for that,” Terk said. “But nice try.”
Purple-head looked dejected. He held out his hand and took his lover’s in it.
“Will you let us go? For the sake of love?” he implored.
Terk looked up at the Tolian. The two locked gazes for a few seconds, and then nodded.
They had reached an understanding.
* * *
• • •
’Whix practically hopped along the corridor of Plexis Security beside the large Human. They both laughed.
“For the sake of love?” he said. “What kind of excuse is that?!”
Terk nearly doubled over. “And the elaborate scheme! I mean, just pull a fire alarm or something! They’ve watched too many trashy romance-vids.”
“I imagine so,”’Whix said. Nearing their destination, the two calmed down a bit. “Still,” the Tolian added. “It was kind of you to ask that they be detained in the same waiting room, and they be only charged with disturbing the peace.”
Terk shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Made sense. We were all young and foolish and in love at once.” He looked at the Tolian and thought, maybe. “Good of you not to mention the whole hitting from behind thing. And to ask that they be released at the same time.”
It was ’Whix’s turn to shrug. “If that comes to anything, it’ll be nice if they do get a chance to get a fresh start, although it would be without the painting.”
“They’d find a way,” Terk said.
“An elaborate one, I imagine,”’Whix added.
They both chuckled again. Terk lowered his head in thanks. “Well, P’tr wit ’Whix, it was a pleasure working once more with you.”
’Whix mimicked the gesture. “Same here, Russell Terk. And it was lovely not to be used as bait, for once.”
Terk grinned. “You sort of naturally fall into step with that role, though.”
’Whix’s reply was cut short by Bowman’s arrival. She passed them, walking briskly, looking generally annoyed.
Then spoke. “Well done on the solved cases, you two,” she said.
Terk and ’Whix shared a surprised look before turning to look at her.
“Now, get to the others on my desk. I’ve got a few more days of this, this . . .” the look on her face dripped into her voice, “moss conference.”
“You want us to just—take—your cases, Commander Bowman?”
She scowled. “Of course. Categorize, prioritize, and solve. Together. Terk can stand you, and you can stand him, and you get results.”
She paused, looked at each of them carefully. “I’m a good judge of character, which is why I am where I am. I need better than competent staff, and I think you two are among them. Do this right, show me I can trust you, and we’ll talk about your careers when this fratling conference is over.”
Bowman held their gazes for a split-second longer, as though weighing them still, then spun around and left, constables scurrying out of her way.
’Whix and Terk shared a quick glance, straightened their uniforms, held their shoulders—and crests—with a bit more pride, and turned around to head back in, together.
. . . Truffles continues
Interlude
“DIN’T NEED HELP. Had th’Brill right where I wanted.”
Morgan eyed his tablemate. Hard to tell if Terk was joking at the best of times, and this wasn’t one of them. Most of the other Human’s craggy face smeared with blood—not all red. The Brill in question had been dragged off by others of his kind, having met the business end of the bartender’s stunrod.
It being simple prudence to know where such things were kept.
In silence, Morgan handed over a tooth.
The enforcer took it in his thick fingers. Held it up and squinted, then tossed it over a shoulder. “Not mine.” He moved his tongue around thoughtfully. “Maybe.”
“Your partner was concerned.” As was Sira, but he’d reassured her.
“Featherhead,” Terk said fondly and spat red before wrapping his big hand around a mug of beer. He lifted it to toast the bartender. “Nice place.”
“It was.” Shea McWhirtle, owner, barkeep, and Human despite her name, tossed the remnants of a stool on the growing stack of broken furniture, paused to give Morgan a meaningful nod, then went back to work.
Found his message then. Relieved, he clapped Terk on a big shoulder. “Looks like you’re stuck with the tab.”
A bizarre wink from an eye almost swollen shut. “Nah. Bowman’s taken an interest.” The enforcer produced a credit stick from a pocket. “I’ve expenses.”
First the face in the shadow. Now Bowman, setting Terk loose in spacer bars. Morgan didn’t need the taste of change to tell him something was stirring, but what? The sector chief didn’t enter Plexis without good reason. She’d history here—let alone the traditional animosity between Port Jellies, even hired ones, and enforcers.
He kept his expression set to amused; inwardly, he tensed. Believing their troubles were over? Didn’t mean—in any sense—they were. Bowman’s sniffing around, my Lady Witch. Are there Clan on Plexis?
A pause, a flash of Power as Sira sent the question into the M’hir, then: Cenebar di Teerac is here, in his quarters. The Clan healer a friend, no doubt of that. A trickle of shared amusement. With an unChosen who managed to impale his brother while the pair tried swords at a dealer’s on the gold level. No others at the moment.
No others willing to reveal themselves.
She’d know who he meant. Acranam’s Clan were embroiled in a bitter struggle between those willing to resume their lives in the wider universe and those loyal to Wys di Caraat.
Wys and her followers detested Sira’s rise to lead the Clan Council and how she’d brought them into the Trade Pact—almost as much as they loathed him, her Human Chosen.
Do you blame them? Sira countered. Then, sadly, They expect me to act as they do. To abuse my Power.
When all she sought was to help them. Morgan let her feel his pride. They’ll learn better, Witchling.
Some will, she conceded. He sensed her mind pull away, her focus turning inward. The rest have too much practice being cruel.
The Sacrifice of Pawns
by Mark Ladouceur
KURR BRACED HIMSELF for the strong wave of disappointment that washed over him through the M’hir. I don’t have a choice, Dorsen. I have a mission from the Council. They want us to investigate along the Acranam Corridor. I will be with you as soon as I complete it. I’m sorry. Home for Kurr was on Tinex 14, but currently he was on Camos,
visiting his younger brother and mother after a months-long archeological dig.
I know, Kurr’s Chosen sent back along the connection between them. But I see that’s not all, my Chosen. He sensed amusement. This is a puzzle, like your digging. You’re not hiding your excitement at the chance to solve it. At least you’re not hiding it from me.
Kurr smiled. Though she couldn’t see it through the M’hir, she would sense the emotion behind it. How lucky I am to have a Chosen who’s not just a match to my power, but who’s so alike in thought. He sent this along their shared link and sensed the nascent presence that grew within Dorsen: their child. The feel of that link, bonding him to Dorsen and through her to their unborn child, stirred a longing for her presence. That same feeling echoed back to him from her.
Alike in thought, but not so much in patience, she replied, and playfully sent a flick of Power through him. You must hurry home. But first, tell me about this mission that intrigues you. Why do you need to go wherever this Acranam System is?
Council has credible evidence that there is a M’hiray presence there. And that it might be linked to survivors of the Destarian.
Her reaction was immediate. My sister, her Chosen—
—Might be alive. He completed her thought with her. Yes. And others too. So you see now?
I do. You must go, but be careful.
I will, he replied. Barac will be with me. He’ll be careful for both of us. He sent reassurance along the link between them.
A sud keep a di safe?
He felt the doubt in her reply. Barac is First Scout. He has far more experience in this regard than I do. I’m only a historian and a philosopher. I trust him.
Very well, you may go, she teased.
Thank you, my Chosen. He sent a rush of affection that she promptly returned. Barac appeared that moment, ’porting into the main room of the apartment.
The Clan Chronicles--Tales from Plexis Page 15