by Kacey Ezell
“Not everything in the universe is connected. This is why we investigate—it’s not some obvious point we ignored.”
“But it’s close enough that I want to shred someone’s throat and then feed it back to him.”
“Some trick.” Tamir laughed, though there was little enough humor in it. “There’s probably more ahead of us. At least we have a less recognizable transport.”
“Less recognizable.” Flame spat, looking around the galley that left little room for her to pace, never mind a Human more than twice her height. “Less everything. Who do we talk to next?”
“Ideally, we find a way to talk to the Cemarap Governor, given her friendship with both Hrusha and Sissisk. If she’s retired, it should be easier getting to her without much notice.”
Flame considered it, tapping through her wristpad to see what was publicly known about where the former Governor Kelket had chosen to retire. Surprisingly, GalNet supplied the answer right away. Security didn’t seem to be much of a concern for Kelket then, which was good for them.
“Benabat. Cemarap planet, in the middle of nowhere. So, we figure out how to approach the sick retired Cemarap Governor on a backwards planet without anyone seeing us coming. Unless you think that attack at Capitol was some unrelated grudge?”
“They won’t be looking for this ship.” Tamir didn’t bother to address the rhetorical question. “It’s small and unremarkable enough to not pick up much chatter as we go, if it’s seen.”
“Looks like Benabat is relatively poorly traveled. Someone may notice us there, if they’re concerned with what happened to Hrusha.”
“Cochkala go to the system all the time, picking up new contracts,” Tamir pointed out.
Flame weighed it over. “We’ll have to damage the comms convincingly, depending on how you want to approach the planet itself, because neither of us can effectively impersonate a Cochkala.”
Tamir shrugged, indicating that was the least of their worries. Flame paced for a few minutes more, then finally leapt to the table and settled across from Tamir.
“Is this our best option?”
“We have dead and retiring Governors, two d—missing Peacemakers, incoming and outgoing.” Tamir almost flawlessly covered the slip that Hrusha and Reow were much more likely dead than off the interplanetary radar. “Records show three newly retired Peacemakers, two who had been rumored to be retiring, and one that had been sick for some time. A handful of new Governors across planets that go in for naming their new species representative ahead of the session. Your contacts are burned, and I don’t have many more who are going to do much of anything that might bring them to a Governor’s or Peacemaker’s overly concerned attention.”
“Then our best option is to track down the ailing former Cemarap Governor, who was close with both Depik Governor and Peacemaker, see if she’s really dying, and see what she knows. Someone wants us dead. Whoever is behind the last attack, they almost definitely know you have a Hunter with you now, though probably not who.”
“That sums it up,” Tamir said.
For no reason Flame could have explained, Tamir’s tone made her laugh. Her Human partner sounded unflappably calm at the depthless pile of shit into which they’d foundered.
Partner. The word snagged her thoughts, and she sat quietly while she turned it over in her mind. They’d saved each other’s lives enough times already that they no longer sniped at each other over it, except to entertain themselves.
It had been easier than she had expected to adjust to another Human. She was different than Susa, but complementary with her Hunter disposition in an entirely other way. Idly, she considered Tamir’s possible response to being offered a sigil and being claimed by a clan. By her clan.
She laughed again, and this time Tamir joined her, ruefully shaking her head. The woman stood, ducking her head. Though the ship cleared her height, something about the shape of it made everything feel close.
“Well. We’ve had more than enough for one day. The course is set, and we’ve time for research before we get underway.”
“Or,” Flame replied, her last laugh still wrapped through her voice, “we could practice.”
“Practice?”
“I noticed your knife throwing could use some work,” she said, dropping her mouth open and slow blinking to show it was a tease.
Tamir took it as Flame meant it, and she chuckled again. “We can’t all hit an eye from across a dark hallway.”
“On the run,” Flame added innocently.
“I thought being a deadly assassin feared across the galaxy was enough for you. I didn’t realize you had to brag about it, too.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
* * *
“Here’s what I know,” the sweaty Human shifted for the thirty-seventh time since starting the conversation with Tamir. He pushed back his styled black and yellow hair, making it spike higher, leaned forward, and licked his lips, not saying anything at all.
Flame wanted to kill him and leave him as bait for the waste-eating antjes of her home planet, but he was only partly to blame for her simmering bloodlust. They had made five stops, with Tamir adopting an effective enough disguise, and Flame staying in her quintessence field. That had been enough to check in with some of Tamir’s contacts, while ensuring they weren’t being followed, and a calculated risk that it’d be few enough stops to minimize word of them oozing out into the galaxy. Comms couldn’t be trusted, so their travel stretched longer.
They had seen no evidence of being followed, but they’d also learned absolutely nothing, and while Flame had become hopeful about every darkened hall and sticking door, there were no more teams of attackers waiting for them anywhere. Time dragged, Tamir asked questions, nobody got bloody, and Flame wanted to scream.
“I don’t pay for dramatic pauses,” Tamir said, and Flame’s amusement helped her center away from the building rage.
“Right, yeah, yeah, so what I know. Human mercs are getting good, winning more than they’re losing, you know?”
Flame didn’t care. There was one Human in the entirety of the universe she loved, who she hadn’t seen or smelled in far too long. There was a second Human she had become generally fond of, but the rest seemed like bumbling soft-shelled creatures cutting themselves on all the galaxy’s corners. Maybe they’d form into something interesting someday, but if the species’ overall skills hovered at the level of the five who’d tried to ambush Tamir in a hallway, Flame figured they still had two or three generations to go before they were worth more than a passing thought.
“Daron, you said you had something good.” Tamir didn’t react to his overall moistness. Flame wondered if the countless tiny beads of sweat coating his face were too small for her Human eyes, then wondered if she could wring the male Human out like a wet rag and shake him dry again.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s just, some of the other mercs, you know, they haven’t been nice, passing through. Like to shove us around a little more, show they can outdo us.” Flame hadn’t heard of anything dramatic happening, so it was probably less ‘mercenary species were getting jealous of Humans’ and more ‘some company members had gotten restless on the station a couple of times.’
Tamir nodded, bored, and Flame could see the bounty hunter had come to the same assessment. Before she could finish off her drink though, Daron shifted and leaned forward again.
“Heard a couple of companies picked up a Depik leader to get them back on top.” He said it with the air of one presenting an item of value, but he couldn’t bear the risk of leaving it so subtle. “You got interest in those killer kit—”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Tamir cut over him smoothly, her posture still signaling the impending wrap up of their conversation. “What would assassins want with a merc contract?”
Reluctantly, Flame retracted her claws and turned her eyes from the male’s throat. Killing him in public would be messy, especially if she rolled in his guts the way she wanted to, so she studied the bar a
round them. Dim colored lights and sticky tables seemed to be a deliberate style choice, along with low throbbing music that covered conversation but didn’t hinder it. It was fine, for what it was, although it was full of smells just on the edge of souring. Maybe that was just Daron.
This should be their last stop before the former Governor’s retirement planet, which meant she would have a break from Humans and their insistence on which Earth creatures Flame’s race supposedly resembled. Even Susa had said it was true, to a point, but Flame had never agreed.
“I dunno. They like the company? Don’t like other merc species? Just a fact I thought you’d want.”
“A fact, or something you heard?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waved a hand, and Flame’s attention focused back on him, tracking the idle gesture with an intensity it did not deserve. “’S’all I got on Depik. You wanna know more about Buma? This faction just got a trade agreement locked in with some Zuparti that chatter said was gonna fail and need some mercs, you know?”
“Daron, here’s what I need you to find for me. You remember the drop box from before, where I pay you if you leave me something interesting in there?” She waited for his nod, not patient so much as thorough. “I want odds on who’s taking the Peacemaker and Governor contracts for the Depik.”
He snorted, finally leaning away from her.
“I’m serious. If you find it, let me know. Is that all you have now, some rumor of Depik teaming up with some mercs?”
“Yes,” he sulked, shifting for the forty-second time.
Tamir’s disappointed sigh set him moving on his chair again, and Flame seriously considered rupturing his spine so that he’d stop moving entirely. Or maybe flop entertainingly to the ground. To distract herself, she mentally pictured each of the Human vertebrae and assessed whether clawing it out would paralyze, kill, or lightly damage the overall body. She wondered what Tamir’s coping mechanism was, though it couldn’t be as fun as her own.
“You want odds on the other Governor and Peacemaker replacements?” Daron tried to hide his eagerness, only succeeding in small part. “You know there’s at least five up for it, or about to be, and ten more we got numbers on, off chance.”
Halfway through the thoracic region, Flame paused and turned her delighted, if invisible, gaze to Tamir. This explained why they’d come to talk to the greasy nobody in the corner of the Peco arm, and where Tamir had been guiding the conversation. Clever Human.
“Impress me,” Tamir drawled, and the sweaty Human took out a different pad, unfolding the screen flat to press onto the table between them.
Flame sighed internally—she probably wouldn’t get to kill anyone at all, this time.
* * *
“That went smoothly,” Tamir said as they approached the Cemara planet Kelket had chosen for her retirement.
“Success is mostly preparedness,” Flame said, moving her couch in lazy half-circles. “It’s what caution is good for; it makes you take care on the front end.”
“Care.” Tamir turned enough to show her half-smile as Flame rotated. “Is that what you showed by wanting to murder each of my contacts over this last month?”
“They’re all alive.” Flame gestured with both a limb and her tail, dismissing the tease with a flash of humor. “And since most of them were a waste of our time, yes, remarkable self-discipline. You’re welcome.”
“Got it. The keys to assassinations are preparedness, caution to take care, not murdering everyone even if they deserve it for being boring, and…?”
“Execution.”
Tamir turned to look at her fully, trying to gauge if that had been a deliberate joke. Flame held still for a long moment, then flicked ears and tail, dropping her jaw in a grin, and Tamir laughed.
“Fair enough,” she managed after a minute, still rather breathless from the laugh. “I’m sorry there’s been a lack of killing since Capitol.”
“The hunt can be almost as satisfying,” Flame said, tail flicking. “This part of our travel is likeliest to lead to whomever ordered the attack on us, so I took care to modify the drive. You took care to damage the comms, so no one will expect video packets from us, and static and voice boxes will keep us unidentifiable until landing. If someone pays overmuch attention to a small Cochkala transport, in this corner of the galaxy, I will eat an entire Oogar.”
“After this, I should go into business as an assassin and put all my learning to use.”
“Yes, you know enough to be a kit let just outside the den.” Flame twisted her ears around again, the slow-blink turning the gesture into a fond tease. “Why leave all this glorious bounty hunting behind?”
“I have to do a lot of what you do, but I have to keep the target alive.”
“Easier, wouldn’t you say?”
“They do tend to do a lot of talking.”
“And few are as entertaining as I am, right? Thank you, Tamir Alcuin. Your compliments truly make me feel appreciated.”
“People will be so disappointed to know that Depik think they’re funny,” she answered, followed with a noise somewhere between a laugh and a snort. “Ruin that mystique of yours.”
Benabat’s flight control was brisk and efficient, registering their course of approach with little correction, given the relative lack of traffic. In keeping with their cover, they sent out a handful of written queries to pinpeck farmers and two traders, and a similar one to Kelket. She owned a fair number of the fruit farms, and their added reference to her old friend Diaden might increase the chance she’d reply to them.
“We realize our course and planetary heading lands us some time before local dawn,” Tamir said, pitching her voice low even though the computer did the work of making her words sound like a Cochkala’s voice box delivery. “This is not my or my trade partner’s first visit to Benabat airspace, so please know we do not expect nor need anyone to welcome us.”
“Very well, Dimintina. We will hand you over to local ground control, who will confirm your landing. Good trading.”
“Confirmed, flight. Profits to you and yours.” Tamir leaned back and stretched.
“Is that a Cemara saying, or a Cochkala one?” Flame asked, belting in more securely ahead of the maneuvering needed for a planetary landing.
“Neither, far as I know. But you know these smaller transports, always eager to leave a good impression.”
“Is that what that is,” Flame murmured, repeating in a much higher voice. “Profits to you and yours.”
Tamir showed impressive self-control for most species, especially Humans, by utterly ignoring her, studying the automated systems as though they had something important to say to her.
Unfortunately for her, ignoring Flame only made her more entertained. They entered Benabat’s upper atmosphere to the Hunter’s singsong soliloquy about profits.
* * *
“It’s possible that we’re going to be ambushed on the ground, or that this is a dead end,” Tamir said, arms crossed as they waited for the pressurization cycle to finish.
“Is there a possibility in which we are ambushed, and it’s a dead end?”
“I think I liked it better when you were invisible and silent for days at a time.” Tamir smiled as she said it, expression brightening when Flame splayed her claws in answer. “Hey, I listened to you make jokes about trading for three hours; you deserved that.”
“Happy to oblige,” Flame said with a sniff, pulling up her quintessence field.
“Oh shit,” Tamir said, hunching protectively. “I was joking, Flame. Don’t you dare—AAAH!”
Flame, perched invisibly on Tamir’s shoulder, made a throaty noise of inquiry.
“I hope you get to kill someone on this planet,” the Human muttered, flailing an arm but knowing better than to grab for the Hunter currently using her as a seat. “You have entirely too much energy you need to expel.”
“I’ve been telling you that for ninenights,” Flame answered, leaping down and releasing her field at the same moment so that
she flickered into existence midair.
“Maybe the Governor will call security on us. You said you’ve never fought a Cemara?”
“I said,” Flame replied with overdone patience, “I’ve never killed one before. I don’t go around fighting as some sort of habit.”
“No, brawls aren’t really your style. Too bad—they can be fun.”
Flame didn’t see how that was possible, fighting with strangers you had to be careful not to kill. She’d adored wrestling with her littermates when she was young and play-stalking Susa, but brawls seemed too serious for play and not nearly serious enough for slaughter, which seemed dissatisfying on every level. Besides, just fighting, where she was visible, and there were rules, was hardly her strength. She had too many strengths not to cater to them.
The ship made an off-key series of beeps signaling an allowable pressure match, the noise sharp enough to briefly flatten Flame’s ears, and make Tamir shake her head. The ship wasn’t built for their hearing, and it was too much trouble to change.
They stepped into the briny night air, a susurrus of insectopods and the clicks of cooling metal welcoming them to Benabat. Proper etiquette was to either stay on the ship until trading opened for the day or to leave and seek on-world dens to ingratiate themselves with the locals. Anyone observing the ship would not be surprised to see it open, or for a single figure to step out and make the trip to town.
They may have been surprised to see a Human rather than a Cochkala moving away from the ship, but humanity was popping up all over these days, why not as a scout for a Cochkala trading group? Flame, her field pulled tight, amused herself by considering how that lack of surprise would move straight into shock, were the hypothetical observer to know a Hunter had left the ship as well, slipping into the automated transport behind Tamir, prowling the otherwise empty cart as it took them from landing grounds to town. Tamir stepped off when the transport arrived, glanced around the transfer point to familiarize herself for the next day, and Flame leapt out, stretching in anticipation of the hunt ahead.