by Kacey Ezell
And they’d never see her coming.
* * *
The shuttle docked at the suborbital station without incident. No one, at least no one visible, awaited them at the airlock. Tamir stepped out from shuttle to station, walking with the confident, unhurried stride that seemed to be her custom.
Flame paused once they crossed over, deploying every sense to determine if they were being flanked, trusting in her own superior stealth to keep from being detected in turn.
It disturbed her that no one waited in the hall. If there would be an attack, then it would be further down, when they were on the move. Tamir didn’t seem concerned, though from the way she was holding herself, it took effort for the woman to keep from glancing around to try and see Flame.
Flame sighed and followed this new Human, understanding that most Hunters wouldn’t be able to read such nuance of Human body language. No other Hunters, beside her siblings, had been half-raised by the species, and few others cared to learn more than it took to kill them when contracted to do so.
Tamir navigated each turn with a minimum of hesitation, though she could not have spent much time in this station. That meant she could read Depik and used the signage and flashing figures on the wall screens to proceed without fuss. Or perhaps the Peacemaker ship had been allowed to talk closely enough with the Depik system to navigate its pilot through the halls, though that seemed a far less likely scenario.
Flame tucked it away to answer later and noted they made it through four turns and two lifts before getting even a sensation of another Hunter passing by. Trap? Attack? Clearing out of the way of the one visitor to their planet they couldn’t toy with to their fullest whim?
A checkpoint ahead slowed their steps, the oversized door to the external docking passageways closed, a Hunter sitting on his back legs, aimlessly revealing and sheathing his claws. The airlock quality seal should have dwarfed him, given it was over twice the height of an average Human, to allow passage for the tallest of species that might have need of it. Tamir demonstrated she was not so ignorant of Hunters and their culture as to be fooled, and before he launched what was sure to be a lazy sort of challenge, she stopped and held herself at attention.
“Peacemaker business concluded on Khatash. Getting back to my ship,” she said briskly, keeping her eyes aimed at roughly his mid-section. Respectful but not deferential, a smart line to hold.
“Did Peacemaker business include wiping out an errant clan?” he asked, flicking a glance at her and then away, as though the matter had no importance to him. “No, that timing wouldn’t work, would it. Aiding them, then?”
“I came to Khatash to do a job for Peacemaker Hrusha, and I did it. With Peacemaker Hrusha’s death—”“
“Murder,” he interrupted, dangerously pleasant.
“I am bound to return to Capitol for a new assignment. I am still on Peacemaker duty, unless you intend to take your issue up with galactic law.”
“If you worked for the Depik Peacemaker for any length of time, you might imagine how much I care about galactic law.” Scorn etched through the word ‘Depik,’ but his lounging manner didn’t shift.
“I know you can kill me before I blink,” she replied, sounding just short of bored. “And I know just how much retribution you’d bring down on your entire small species, and yourself in particular, if you did. Doesn’t seem worth the momentary satisfaction. Do you dispute my right to pass?”
Flame glanced up at Tamir with a measure of surprise. She walked the line well—neither defiant, which the Hunter could easily meet challenge for challenge, nor overly meek, which would be answered with violence.
The Hunter didn’t answer, coming to a similar conclusion, and without perceptible motion from him the door spiraled open behind him. More than likely he had an invisible counterpart, but she remained secure in the fact neither of them would sense her.
After they cleared the doorway, Flame paced ahead. Thwarted aggression flooded her system and left her with too much energy for Tamir’s casual pace. More than once she sensed the edges of another Hunter’s quintessence field, and more than once she skirted a little too close to see if she could determine which Hunter passed. But these halls were crowded with several species’ worth of arrivals and departures, and it was a foolish risk. She forced herself to ignore the temptation of other Hunters, to focus only on moving undetected. She had to pay attention. She could not start a fight. This close to leaving her world, she certainly couldn’t be caught.
Not before she’d hunted this prey to ground.
* * *
At every connection between the main airlock and the smaller one that connected to the bounty hunter’s ship, Tamir’s voice remained nearly bored, unaffected by whatever had happened on the ground. Perhaps few knew of the attack after all, given how uneventful the brief conversations were. Flame watched, invisible in her field, and saw the rage collect in the Human’s shoulders.
Susa had rarely carried such emotion, but Humans seemed determined to carry tension in their upper body. Protecting their delicate necks, perhaps. Flame filed it away as something to ask Susa.
A pang almost made her miss her step—had Susa survived? Hunters wouldn’t go out of their way to kill a Human, even if her clan had been interdicted. There was no profit in it, nor glory; only the Hunters of the clan would have been targets. Flame tried to convince herself, knowing that Death would have done everything in her considerable power to protect Susa.
But the guards at the station, and that one at the airlock, had been willing to attack Tamir while she served Peacemaker orders, so Flame could not have faith Susa would have been left unmolested.
Knowing that Blade, Death, and Susa could so easily have come to harm did her no good, and it only amped up her agitation. She pushed the line of thought down, taking deep breaths as she slipped through the halls. Focus. She would deal with all of that later. Right now, she had to stay in control, not let her emotions push her to foolish action. That effort took her all the way through the clearance and launch of the bounty hunter’s ship. Flame curled tightly into an out of the way corner, to process and bury what needed to be cleared away to center her thoughts.
Perhaps it was minutes or hours into their voyage, but either way Tamir showed remarkable discipline in waiting before clearing her throat and spinning her flight couch to get a better view of the bridge.
“You still with me?”
Flame stood, shaking off the lingering emotions of the loss of her family to compose herself, then dropped her field. Tamir did not jump, but better angled herself in her chair to face her visible companion. For long moments the two stared at each other, their alliance too new and unexpected to give them much of a starting place.
“We’ve saved each other’s lives,” Flame said, waiting for Tamir’s nod. “Do you care, what happened to Hrusha?”
“She was my boss, and a damn good one. Whoever took her out had no compunction about trying for me too, and I have a problem with that. And taking out a Peacemaker should have consequences.”
“Where to now?” Flame asked, her bright blue eyes steady on Tamir’s brown ones.
“I wasn’t joking about headquarters. They’d expect me to return for reassignment. And…” the Human trailed off, looked away, but the anger was still clear in the way she held herself. “Peacemaker Hrusha knew something was off, that’s why she sent me. My job isn’t done, and your dama didn’t kill her. She suspected something was wrong on Khatash, and it wasn’t with your clan or she never would have sent me to you—and she had to have chosen me for a reason, not some other Depik. Doesn’t make sense otherwise. So, we go back and see what happened.”
“We saw what happened,” Flame said, sounding out the words deliberately, testing her.
“Sure, we did.” Tamir’s voice was all scorn, and Flame relaxed. “We agree your dama didn’t kill the Peacemaker, and there’s no motive there that makes sense. So something else happened. Someone else happened, or how else was that attack
on your clan already planned and so quickly executed?”
Flame made a noise of agreement, hearing the belief as the Human echoed Flame’s words. She lowered her head, gesturing Tamir should continue.
“We go back and see if there were any witnesses. I’ll get the formal report. Peacemaker Hrusha said…”
Without thinking, Flame crossed over to Tamir as the woman paused, put a front paw on Tamir’s knee, whisper soft. They were both still wary, but it was enough of a gesture to get the woman talking again.
“She said the meat had gone rotten deep inside. It still looked like a fresh kill, but corruption had spoiled the whole thing, from the inside out. She wanted answers and indicated they would be important to me, too. I never saw her misjudge a situation.”
Flame withdrew, gaze going distant as she considered. “A Hunter doesn’t reach her age or position without skill to see what is underneath. We will find the rotten core and burn it out.”
* * * * *
The Contract
‘Tlor was a grey, dismal place. Like Khatash, very little of the actual terrain could be seen from orbit. Unlike Khatash, this was because the Lumar home world was covered, nearly pole to pole, in densely crowded cityscape.
Nor was it interesting cityscape, Deluge reflected. The rows and blocks of buildings were of mostly uniform height and shape, giving the view a depressing sameness as he watched out the window of the orbital shuttle. His own ship was parked in a geosynchronous orbit just outside the cone-shaped Galactic Free Trade zone that extended up over ‘Tlor’s largest starport. He’d caught the shuttle down to the surface, and had enjoyed the exercise of blending in with the crowd on board.
Which crowd was particularly diverse, almost surprisingly so. One could make a lot of credits on ‘Tlor. Besides the always popular Lumar mercenaries, the planet boasted multiple rare and valuable resources in the form of both planetary and orbital metals, some inert gasses, and several popular hallucinogenic compounds that several species used for recreational and other purposes. By rights, the Lumar should have been counted among the richest of the Union species…but they were not. Common opinion held that they were just not up to the intellectual challenge of managing their inherent wealth, and so certain other species had stepped in to do it for them.
Not the least of which were the tactical geniuses, the Veetanho.
Deluge’s target was one of these—a Veetanho mercenary commander by the name of Rhaabou. She was tall for her species, nearly twice his height, according to the information his ship had fed to him during the journey here. She cut a formidable figure in the stills and video he had, with her well-muscled body and commanding, arrogant stance. She certainly looked the part of a tactical expert and single combat master.
And she was even more impressive in person.
Later that night, Deluge found her carousing in a mixed-clientele establishment. He’d donned a long cloak, and kept his hood up and his head down as he found an unoccupied corner with a good view. Rhaabou and another Veetanho sat in the thick of the debauchery, wreathed in clouds of colored smoke as music thumped through the air. Beings ebbed and flowed around them, some bringing food and drink, others dancing or moving. Mindful of the first lesson, Deluge made himself comfortable and watched.
Rhaabou’s companion turned out to be her sister, Apeya. Where Rhaabou was tall, Apeya was much shorter. Still, she carried herself like one who had won her share of fights, and though her build tended toward the wiry rather than muscular, she was obviously quite strong.
She also had, by far, the worse temper of the pair of them. She snarled menacingly at every passerby who ventured too close. Once, a dancer bumped her, and she leapt to her feet and attacked. Deluge watched as the ensuing fracas was quickly dismantled by the establishment security and Rhaabou herself, who interceded to get her sister to calm down and retake her seat. A moment later, a serving bot stamped with the establishment’s logo appeared carrying a tray of something that was either food or drink, and appeared to be entirely intoxicating, if Apeya’s reaction to it was to be believed.
And the more intoxicated she became, the more extreme her behavior became. She acted even more violently toward the other revelers, and even more lovingly toward her sister. All night, until Rhaabou carried her nearly-incapacitated sibling off to one of the ubiquitous ultra-short range urban shuttles that crowded the skies above ‘Tlor’s endless city.
Susa was right, Deluge reflected. This didn’t add up at all. He needed more information.
So, the next evening, back on Iora after a rest, he tried a different tactic.
Mercenary company records were, to a certain extent, public information. At least, the contracts that came out of a merc pit were. It was nothing at all to look up the details of Proud Fist’s contracts and see when they’d been entered into, the name of the client, and the status of the contract. The recent contracts all had a status of “fulfilled,” with riders indicating that combat loss bonuses had been paid. Combat loss bonuses weren’t unusual, but looking at them made Deluge wonder just how large those bonuses were. He turned his attention to tracking down the name of the banking house that handled the financials for Proud Fist…
And nearly fell out of the pilot’s couch with laughter. Clearly, serendipity smiled on him for this strange contract. For the banking house was a Sidar company, and the chief officer had a very familiar name.
* * *
It took almost no time at all to make arrangements for a meeting. The meeting itself, however, was slightly delayed. This was only to be expected, since the last time Deluge checked, his new Sidar friend Rurranach had been on Khatash. The Sidar hadn’t mentioned that he was an operating officer for Theela Financial, one of the mid-level banking houses in this arm of the galaxy. All of the research that Deluge found on the company indicated they were concentrated in the Praf region, but market reports on the GalNet hinted that Theela Financial might be making a move outward and trying to establish a presence in the Centaur region.
So, when Deluge reached out to Rurranach, he’d offered to discuss exclusive banking opportunities for the Night Wind clan. As he’d predicted, the Sidar jumped at the chance, and after a delay of almost exactly the transit time for a message to get to Khatash and back, Deluge and Rurranach met up once again in a busy market setting.
“I greet you, Mighty Hunter and my friend,” Rurranach said as Deluge dropped his quintessence cloak and appeared on the cafe table the Sidar had selected. It was a credit to Rurranach’s training and self-mastery that his only reaction was a slight stiffening of his wings under the cloak.
“I greet you, Keeper of Secrets and mover of funds,” Deluge said lightly, dropping his jaw in a grin. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“How could I not, when you dangle such tantalizing prey before me? Handling your clan’s fortune would make us both rich beyond our imaginings, my friend. I was very happy to get your call.”
“I am already rich beyond my imaginings,” Deluge said with a slow blink. Something about the Sidar made him want to tease. “As a matter of fact, I came into a very lucrative business venture shortly after we last saw one another.”
“I heard,” the Sidar said, dryly. “Well done.”
“You are the first to say so,” Deluge said. “I thank you.”
“It was well done, in my view. You saved the life of a Besquith pup and gained a not inconsequential amount of wealth in one masterful stroke, mighty Hunter. I think you would be quite formidable should you ever choose to take up hunting profits full time.”
“I appreciate that, Rurranach. I do. But now that you mention it, I am under contract.”
Again, the slight stiffening of the cloaked wings. Deluge slow blinked another grin.
“Do not worry,” he said, “You are not my target.”
“Good to know,” Rurranach said, matching Deluge’s dry tone.
“I imagine it is. However, I need some help.”
“If I can give it, I shall.”
>
“I need to see the financial records of the Lumar Proud Fist Company.”
Rurranach leaned forward, tilting his magnificently-crested head to the side.
“That is…a difficult request, my friend.”
“Which is why I offered to aid your house in your quest to establish more of a foothold in the Centaur region.”
“I see. Forgive me, my friend, but…is such a thing within your power to give? When we met, you were very clear that you are subject to the whim of your dama, and you seem a bit young to be given the title of deo,” he added with a twist of humor in his tone.
“It is,” Deluge said, slow blinking, “Because currently, the Night Wind clan does not engage with a banking house. We handle our finances internally. So, if I contract with you for the use of my own funds, that will be an exclusive contract, will it not? At least for the time being.”
“Clever Hunter,” Rurranach said, letting out that chittering laughter Deluge found so charming. “I think you know it does not work that way.”
“Perhaps not, I concede. But my own fortune is not insubstantial, and it would be an in to my clan. My brother-kit Blade could tell you better, but I believe none of the other major clans use a banking house either. You could very well be the first if you begin by contracting with me.”
“And the terms? I turn over the financial records to you and in exchange you contract with me to manage your personal fortune?”
“Yes. For a trial period of one year. If you are as good as I think you are, that will be ample time for you to demonstrate how you can make me richer than my current mark beyond my imaginings,” Deluge said, slow blinking once again.
Rurranach regarded him for a long moment, then bobbed his head up and down in a slow, ponderous movement.
“Done,” he said. “I will have the records for you tomorrow, though I doubt I can let you keep them.”