by T. G. Ayer
The alcohol filtered through her system, calming her nerves, and Nerishka decided on a punchy response to Lyra’s prior question.
Nerishka didn’t miss the eye-roll that Lyra let slip. Lyra’s voice held a note of amusement hidden beneath her dry tone as she added a location marker on Nerishka’s HUD.
Nerishka lifted her drink and swung in the seat to face the room.
Lyra’s marker highlighted her target where he was relaxing in a high-backed armchair. He sat on a level overlooking a large dance floor, the section designed with a relaxed—though private—atmosphere in mind; low armchairs and coffee tables arranged in groupings of twos and threes.
She was impressed that Lyra had found him so quickly. Fletcher was in a far corner near the stairs, retreating almost to invisibility within his shadowed space.
Nerishka shook her head as she considered what the man had gotten himself into. He should have known when he put out feelers in surrounding systems, seeking researchers to work on picotech research, that it was as good as shining a spotlight on his head and saying, ‘Here I am, just shoot me.’
Granted, he had been careful, reaching out to what he’d thought were trusted contacts. But the Hand had many ears across the Inner Stars—ears which were highly attuned to any mention of the word ‘picotech.’
What Fletcher hadn’t counted on was that one of his primary contacts—a man whom he later hired to source staff for his illicit project—happened to also be a Hand operative placed in the Ayra System almost fifty years ago, stationed here specifically because of the advanced research that had begun to flourish within the system. His job was to keep an eye out for people whose work would upset the delicate balance of peace in the Inner Stars.
People like Fletcher.
Karsin, the agent in question, had sent a debrief to Regional Director Jeriah when Fletcher had first begun to build his research team—along with regular updates in the months afterward. He’d bought as much time as he could to enable Jeriah to send in an agent who could complete the kill order without having to compromise his deeply established cover, all the while still sourcing engineers and researchers for roles in Fletcher’s dangerous venture.
A venture Nerishka would put an end to tonight.
Nerishka cycled her vision and got a better look at the man, studying his black pants and shirt, the thin strand of gold around his neck, the matching gleam at his wrist. And the obligatory black cloak that gave him the air of elegance.
Nerishka tapped the DND and service tokens and registered the significant absence of the vibration against her skin. She initiated the social token and got to her feet.
THE MARK
STELLAR DATE: 10.05.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Commodore Lounge, Eshnunna
REGION: Anahita, Ayra System (Independent)
Nerishka drifted through the black lounge, her dress gleaming brilliantly in the muted lighting. She preferred it when she moved beneath the radar, when she wasn’t seen or heard. She would rather a swift, silent kill than a dance to lure a mark in. The only problem was this particular mark wasn’t easily accessible. Her current approach as a job applicant was the best job of sneaking she could manage.
Nerishka suppressed a sigh. Hopefully Fletcher would take the bait and she’d get this mission done. She had a shipment from Valkris on ice, just waiting for her to pick up. Getting supplies moved out of the Transcend and into the Inner Stars required Director Sera’s approval, and after long delays, she was really looking forward to manufacturing a new batch of her favorite toxins and serums.
Speaking of poisons….
What Lyra meant was ‘Calm down’. So Nerishka took a breath and passed a cursory glance over her mark who was currently obscured by a cloud of smoke to which he was steadily adding as he pulled on a long pipe and exhaled.
Lyra sent the equivalent of a mental shrug.
Nerishka turned down the corridor leading to the restrooms.
Nerishka entered the restroom and approached the mirror.
Nerishka smirked as she applied the truth serum antidote onto her hands and waited as it absorbed into her skin. The serum itself was difficult to produce and short-acting, a problem in its makeup that was a constant concern. Likewise, the antidote was also limited to the molecular structure and half-life of the serum. It was effective, but she really needed to work out the kinks in her latest strain.
Nerishka was about to apply the colorless poison when she stiffened.
Lyra let out a soft sigh that echoed in Nerishka’s head. A few seconds passed—time which Nerishka took to adjust the color of her blue hair, adding a few darker and lighter shades to create a complex layered effect.
Nerishka nodded.
Lyra replied after a moment.
Nerishka snorted as she applied the serum to her fingers.
Nerishka let out a sigh and straightened.
As she turned to leave, a tall cloaked figure rushed into the san and collided with Nerishka who splayed her arms as she began to fall backward, losing balance on her precarious heels.
As Nerishka fell back, she slid one foot behind herself and pushed off, flipping in the air. She landed on her feet with only a slight wobble, sending Lyra a mental thank you for helping to balance her so well. Breaking an ankle would put a definite damper on her plans for the evening.
The hooded figure advanced and thrust the short knife at Nerishka who side-stepped the strike, slamming the heel of her hand into the attacker’s forearm.
She’d aimed for the wrist, hoping to knock the enemy’s knife free, but the cloaked figure had moved just in time, avoiding being disarmed. The motion gave Nerishka another opening, and she lunged forward, wrapping her arm around the attacker’s neck.
The enemy’s hood fell back to reveal the face of a green-skinned woman, and in the reflection of the silver mirror above the basin she met Nerishka’s eyes.
High cheekbones and dark eyes accented the woman’s face—along with her lime-tinted, intricately tattooed skin making for a decidedly snake-like appearance.
These thoughts flitted through Nerishka’s mind while she slid one of the sticks from her hair and plunged it into the side of the woman’s neck.
Just as smoothly, she withdrew the slim blade and let the attacker’s body drop to the ground, maintaining a good distance to remain clear of any blood spray.
Satisfied, Nerishka wiped the blade quickly then capped it before sliding it back into her hair. She stuffed the towel inside her purse and studied the green-skinned corpse.
Nerishka considered Lyra’s words. Though spoken in jest, the AI’s claim was accurate. In two centuries, one could amass a fair number of enemies—though few knew who she was.
It may be time to retire this cover.
And she was about to add another kill, and an unknown number of enemies, to that list.
Nerishka moved the body into one of the stalls and cleaned up the droplets of blood on the floor before pausing to consider whether or not Fletcher may have sent the assassin.
Nothing for it. Best way to not be a target is to kill the man pulling the strings.
FLETCHER
STELLAR DATE: 10.05.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Commodore Lounge, Eshnunna
REGION: Anahita, Ayra System (Independent)
Entering the Black Lounge once more, Nerishka turned to her right and rounded the bank of sofas until she reached the seating arrangement next to Fletcher’s oversized armchair. The man’s gaze settled on her as she made a show of hesitating.
“Do you need some help?” he asked, his tone making it clear he was enquiring against his better judgment. He didn’t sound like he wanted interaction, both his voice and the steady vibrations coming from his lapel proved it.
Nerishka let out a frustrated sigh. “Whoever their interior designer is, they need a good talking to. Why did they make these damned chairs so low? If I sit in one of them in this dress,” she slid a hand along the curve of her hip, “I’ll never be able to get back to my feet without ripping the damn thing apart.”
From the way Fletcher studied her body, Nerishka was pretty sure he’d be only too happy to witness such a misfortune. Of course, it was all a part of the pre-arranged series of phrases and counter-phrases, though she suspected he’d selected them to put his applicants off balance.
He blinked and straightened. “I’m sure all you need to do is call someone over and they’d be happy to help you back to your feet.”
Nerishka suppressed a groan.
Fletcher set his pipe on the table before him and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Who is it you’re meeting? Perhaps I know them?”
Nerishka let out a soft tinkling laugh.
Lyra responded with her own tinkling laughter and Nerishka chose to ignore her.
Nerishka sent Lyra a mental nod.
Fletcher stiffened and shifted forward again. “That sounds like many people I know. What sort of aspirations?”
Nerishka studied the man. Karsin had confirmed the ridiculous series of exchanges, and insisted she use it before she said anything else to Fletcher. “He will not acknowledge until you use the code.”
The Hand agent had seemed antsy in the recorded message and had glanced over his shoulder a number of times, adding to the sense of danger that Nerishka now suspected was more than just a sense.
If there had been something wrong, Karsin would have relayed any general concerns to Jeriah. Why didn’t the Director share them with me?
Nerishka cleared her mind of those concerns. She straightened and met Fletcher’s, confidence and strength in her stance and her expression. “Well, it’s not like he’s building a dyson sphere…” To Lyra, she said
Fletcher let out a soft sigh, his expression clearing as he waved a hand at the seat beside him. “I assume you have no trouble sitting in that dress.”
“Why would I?” Nerishka arched an eyebrow.
Nerishka settled into the large sofa beside Fletcher and studied the man’s profile: strong brow, high cheekbones, full lips. Which all meant nothing considering he could have altered any of his features to his own liking.
Fletcher shifted in his seat, getting comfortable when Nerishka leaned closer and held out her hand. “I’m Daria,” she said to her mark. To Lyra she grumbled
The corne
r of Fletcher’s lip turned up as he took Nerishka’s hand in his large palm, holding it for a tiny bit longer than was necessary.
Nerishka suppressed a shudder.
She left her hand in his only long enough to be certain the serum would have had sufficient time to enter his bloodstream. Then she smiled politely and extricated her hand from his.
“Fletcher,” he said softly, dropping his tone in an almost seductive manner.
Nerishka looked around deliberately, scanning the lounge for just a moment too long. “I would prefer the privacy of a Link. I hope you don’t mind,” Nerishka said, thinking he should have been the one to suggest it especially considering how illegal dabbling in picotech was in most systems.
Another part of the careful balance in the Inner Stars disrupted by the arrival of that ancient colony ship, the Intrepid. Their act of launching picobombs in the Bollam’s World System had sparked an arms race unlike any since the FTL Wars.
The Hand had been working overtime shutting down these projects—the only thing more dangerous than picotech being developed was the disasters that could ensue when things went wrong. Prior pico research had seen entire planets destroyed requiring the sterilization of whole star systems and the interdiction of pico research altogether.
But in a few minutes—once she terminated this man—the Ayra System would be safe from that fate.
Fletcher nodded and sent her a direct Link request which she accepted. Almost instantly he said,
Fletcher sat back and looked Nerishka up and down. He seemed to be considering more than just her application and Nerishka was getting a little impatient.