Death Dealer

by T. G. Ayer

  asked Jeriah, her tone sterner than she would have liked. She needn’t have worried though. She could always trust Kri to be brutally honest.

 

  Jeriah asked.

  Kri replied.

  asked Jeriah, still wondering how to proceed with Kri. Sometimes she felt as though the AI had been raised in a vacuum, without influence from other AIs or their expansive knowledge.

  To be fair, Jeriah didn’t know much about Kri’s history, Helen having maintained that the AI's past wasn’t knowledge Jeriah needed at the time.

 

  Jeriah frowned as frustration surged through her. How was she supposed to forge a stronger relationship with an AI who seemed completely and utterly incapable of emotional inference. It was like talking to an NSAI, even when she knew for a fact that Kri was sentient.

  She shook her head.

  Kri replied, not sounding in the least annoyed at being redirected from personal enlightenment to business.

  Jeriah asked as she concentrated on the second victim.

  Asteria was a newer agent—with the Hand only fifty odd years—but one Jeriah had found to be supremely competent. Her last vid had also been erratic and quite unlike the woman in tone of voice, how fast she spoke, the number of times she looked beyond the range of the camera. Jeriah had the feeling that the operative had not been alone when the vid had been recorded.

  Kri said, interrupting Jeriah’s train of thought. He threw up a range of different stills from the vid and highlighted changes of patterns in the position of items.

  Jeriah frowned.

 

  Well aware, Kri. Well aware, Jeriah thought.

 

  Jeriah continued,

 

  said Jeriah.

 

  Jeriah nodded.

  After a moment Kri replied,

  Jeriah frowned and stared at the still, at Asteria’s face.

  Kri’s avatar nodded as he complied and after a split second, he said, Jeriah stared at the hazy form that appeared on the holo.

  Jeriah ran her hands through her hair, then chewed on her lip.

  Jeriah paused and considered what they did have in terms of information. Hand agents across this sector were turning up dead. All agents seem to have had their last vid updates compromised—at least partly. And a green-skinned figure is their only suspect so far.

 

  Kri responded within a blink of an eye.

  Jeriah brought up the final vid, sent by Hand agent Olit.

  A slim blonde, Olit wore her hair in a short spiky cut that enhanced her high cheekbones and narrow eyes. Jeriah was finding it extremely hard to accept that Olit—who had been her lover for almost ninety years—was now dead. She supposed the emotion was grief, although she did try to compartmentalize. Unsuccessfully.

 

  Jeriah replied, maintaining her tone as unemotional as possible.

 

  How observant of you, thought Jeriah. She let out a soft sigh.

  Jeriah wondered if Kri could possibly parse the difference between responsibility for her agents and emotional attachment. Yes, of course she was livid, grieving, which made her heart race and her blood pressure go up. But Olit was more than just an agent to Jeriah, and Kri would figure it out soon enough.

  Olit’s current mission had begun twenty-two years ago—well before Kri’s time—and it had been almost ninety years ago that Jeriah and Olit had fallen into a casual—yet very much compatible—relationship. They’d managed personal time off and on between missions, but neither had pressured the other for anything more stable. They’d known better than that. Getting sidetracked was not an option in their line of work, especially not when the track included personal obligation.

  Relationships between agents—especially with directors—was frowned upon, but out here in the Inner Stars, years from home, some of those rules were less strictly observed.

  Jeriah blew out a breath.

  Surprisingly, Kri came back almost immediately.

 

  offered Kri, his tone so even that Jeriah wasn’t sure if he was merely providing an alternative, of if he was needling her in order to assess her reaction. Either way, Jeriah remained as neutral as possible only because Kri’s alternative was one Jeriah herself had already considered.

  Her attachment to Olit was an entirely separate thing to the agent’s function as an infiltrator within the Septhian military. An agent being turned was exceptionally rare, and there was only one adversary who even knew about the Hand, Orion’s IDSAC, or BOGA as the Hand agents liked to call them.

  Jeriah could not allow her feelings to affect her deductions in this case. She had to consider every alternative—if Olit’s loyalty had to be questioned, then it should be.

  Didn’t mean she had to like it.

  THE GREEN WOMAN

  STELLAR DATE: 10.06.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)

  LOCATION: Euphrates Station

  REGION: Anahita, Ayra System (Independent)

  The skycar dropped Nerishka off at the ground-side station. She confirmed that her luggage from the Palomidae hotel was already on its way to the Belshazzar, having switched provenance and owners part-way through its journey—thanks to Lyra’s efforts.

  Despite b
eing an advanced world, Anahita did not possess a space elevator, but shuttles ran with regularity to Euphrates Station above. Her persona of Kiarra warranted only the best, and Nerishka luxuriated in the first-class cabin, enjoying a massage and pedicure—both provided by human attendants—during the hour-long ride.

  Once she reached the Euphrates Station, Nerishka took a maglev across its length to the Belshazzar’s berth. As she exited the maglev, she decided to freshen up in one of the executive sans to ensure her entrance on the ship matched her social status.

  Lyra observed as Nerishka approached the entrance to the san.

  Nerishka replied as she brushed past a man, behaving as though he wasn’t even there.

 

  Nerishka laughed as she entered the san. She was approaching the row of holomirrors when movement in the wall’s reflective chrome molding caught her attention; someone had entered behind her and was now rushing at Nerishka, light glinting on a blade in their hand.

  The attacker moved fast. Too fast. Nerishka ducked to the side just in time to avoid the short dagger sweeping toward her head.

  said Lyra with a chuckle.

  Nerishka let out a grunt as she bent backward to avoid the blade that skimmed past her face, far too close for comfort.

  The woman, hooded with green-tinged skin—almost a mirror image of Nerishka’s previous two attackers—didn’t waste a second. She twisted to the side, thrusting her short blade again at Nerishka, this time fueled by the frustration of her initial failure.

  Nerishka almost yelled to Lyra.

 

  Nerishka sidestepped the green woman’s next lunge and withdrew her own flechette pistol. With her drones emitting sonic masks, the sounds of the fight within the san would be diminished—but not entirely. Otherwise she’d have been forced to use her lightwand. It would have been easier but Nerishka wanted an opportunity to at least interrogate the woman, not cut her to ribbons like the last one.

  Nerishka aimed and pulled the trigger, hitting her assailant in the thigh, a wound that served only to infuriate the woman. Nerishka sighed in resignation as her attacker drew her own pistol.

 

  said Lyra as Nerishka ducked to avoid two shots that came in quick succession. With so much weapons-fire, Nerishka resorted to reaching for her lightwand and sideswiping her attacker with a blow to the woman’s spine.

  The brilliant white blade cut through armor worn by the woman beneath her cloak, and then hit bone. The assassin let out a low cry and fell forward and Nerishka held the flechette pistol to her assailant’s head.

  “Who are you people and what do you want with me?” Nerishka ground the words out, frustrated and annoyed. Having a never-ending stream of attackers on her tail was making her lose her temper too quickly.

  The woman let out a laugh that morphed into a curling cough. “We know what you are. It won’t be long before one of us gets you.”

  “Do you want to die?” asked Nerishka, angered by the woman’s evasion.

  Again, the assassin took a ragged breath, and then choked on it. “My life is meaningless in the greater scheme of things. I’m happy to die knowing we are ever closer to stopping your directorate, to putting you down…” the rest of the woman’s words were lost in a broken garble as she struggled to breathe.

  Nerishka got to her feet as the woman began to convulse, then paused, frustrated.

  asked Lyra, sounding confused.

 

  asked Lyra.

  Nerishka admitted, but she was beginning to believe that Lyra was right. It was risky, but possible.

  She knelt and injected the woman with a sedative then activated her armor. Within seconds the assassin disappeared.

 

  Nerishka said as she stripped off her pants and shirt, stuffing them inside one of the san cubicles.

  Then she got to her feet and activated her own armor, allowing the hood to enclose her head, rendering her invisible. Then she bent and grabbed the assassin, tossing the limp form over her shoulder.

 

  Nerishka nodded silently as she stepped out of the san, narrowly avoiding a woman and a child that rushed past. Being invisible during an infiltration was one thing, doing it while carrying a limp body in a busy concourse was another.

  Twice someone bumped into Nerishka, but in the crowded space they no doubt assumed it was another visible passenger as they continued on their way. At one point, she had to tuck into a corner and wait for the crush to pass by before she moved back out.

  Lyra advised.

  Nerishka looked at the crowded escalators situated on either side of the concourse and moved toward the lifts, which appeared to see less traffic.

  She pressed the call button in front of the bank and stepped to the side, waiting for the first one to come down. A minute later, the second lift lit up, and the door slid open. Nerishka waited a few seconds before hurrying inside.

  The invisible assassin on her shoulder was starting to slip, and Nerishka shifted her load, nearly hitting a short brunette who sauntered in on impossibly high heels. Luckily the woman stopped and turned as soon as she entered, her back only a few centimeters from the green assassin’s legs.

  Nerishka prayed that no other passengers would enter the small lift car, and the stars must have been listening, because the lift stopped on the Belshazzar’s level and the woman left promptly, giving Nerishka enough time to get out.

  As soon as the entrance was clear, Nerishka slipped through the open doorway and hurried across the hall toward the elevator.

  The walk to the liner’s gate was a short one, but a security arch stretched over the entrance and two guards were scrutinizing each person as they walked through.

  Nerishka asked, not needing to elaborate.

 

  As the AI finished speaking, a soft groan emanated from Nerishka’s supposedly unconscious captive.

  Nerishka hissed to Lyra as she backed into a corner, sending a filament of mednano into the woman’s body. The nano sent out a signal that the woman had extreme bloodloss. The assassin’s nano responded, and lowered her heartrate to stem the flow, and Nerishka felt her attacker relax slightly.

  asked Lyra, her tone urgent and impatient.

 

  Lyra remained silent as they approached the security arch, waiting at the side of the line until a gap appeared that Nerishka was able to slip through.

  As they walked down the long umbilical, Lyra brought the liner’s layout up on Nerishka’s HUD, a green marker
blinking in the Elite Passenger Section.

 

 

  Lyra laughed.

  Half an hour later, after securing her assassin, exiting the ship, and reentering visibly, Nerishka stood in her three-roomed suite, surveying her captive.

  She’d already deactivated the woman’s armor with a targeted nano lock-pack, as well as applied a Link suppressor behind the woman’s ear. Now Nerishka stood staring at the unconscious woman, wondering who she really was.

  Silvery white hair spread around the woman’s green-skinned face and she wore the standard Anahita-style cloak in dark green. If not for her skill, and the seemingly personal vendetta she held for Nerishka, she would have suspected the attacker to be a local.

  she muttered to Lyra.

  Beneath the cloak, Nerishka found that the woman wore dark brown pants and a long-sleeved shirt, both loose-fitting with strangely placed slits in the fabric. Underneath lay the woman’s armor, and Nerishka proceeded to remove first the clothing and then—with some difficulty—the armor.

  She tossed the armor to the floor and studied the assassin’s body. The woman’s naked skin was a green hue all over, and that she was also covered in swirling black tattoos with oddly shaped black bumps that accentuated the pattern.

  Nerishka raised an eyebrow.

 

  Nerishka suppressed a sigh and proceeded to redress the assassin in her clothing—with a small amount of difficulty—and then laid her back before cuffing her wrists and securing her to the base of the bed.