Assassin

by Kacey Ezell

  “I’ve never wished I hadn’t killed someone before.” Flame shook her head, ears flattening in distaste. “Not that I regret the killing itself; I’m glad we killed them, but I should have left at least one alive for a little while so we could question him.” It had seemed clever at the time. Take one of their weapons and trace it back. There must have been some reason the group had been equipped with only basic knives, rather than any of a multitude of more effective weapons.

  “Nothing on the knife then,” Tamir said, “Or the blood?” At Flame’s second headshake, she sighed. “Of course not. Don’t kick yourself too hard. I should have stopped and called in the Peacemaker staff, even if we ran to the ship first and just holed up there.”

  “Yes, they would have instantly been able to tell us where the attackers came from, given us a motive, and couldn’t possibly have been involved.”

  Tamir blew out her breath hard enough to make a loud noise with her lip-flapping, and Flame almost smiled. The Human dropped her head back on the couch and sighed again, most dramatically.

  “To pull off an attack on Capitol, someone had to be very plugged in, or at least know the right people,” she said, giving voice to what they both knew.

  “How did they predict our route back to Gerren?” Flame asked, extending a claw for each point, “How did they hack into the Peacemaker systems to turn off the lights without anyone noticing? How did they drop a random Lumar in the middle of a public walkway and hope that would work? How did they manage to keep it off GalNet?”

  “All of that makes it risky to reach out to anyone on Capitol. And you missed a few: who the hell are they? What the hell do they want? Why are they stupid enough to confirm for us that something was going on, when we didn’t have any real proof of anything?”

  “That one’s easy—they thought you were alone.” Flame considered her extended claws and then waggled them at Tamir. “Not a mistake they’ll make again.”

  “Hrusha said it was rotting from the inside.” The Depik Peacemaker hadn’t been talking about Capitol, but she’d played it all close to her vest for some reason, so maybe it had included some part of Capitol as well.

  “Better we get some distance and figure it out.” Sheathing her claws, Flame settled more comfortably into her couch.

  They certainly had distance, but had they run themselves directly into a dead end?

  “Where do we go once we have the new ship?” Tamir asked as though following her thoughts.

  “To talk to the Cemara Governor, if that’s all we have. I’ve looked up everything I could find about her if you want to compare notes.”

  Tamir laughed, shaking her head, though she ignored Flame’s inquiring look as she pulled up her own files. She shared them to the Hunter’s slate, put the notes she’d taken on a screen they could both look at, then laughed again.

  “Just go talk to the Governor, easy as that. A bounty hunter who sometimes takes contracts for the Peacemakers, and a Depik who doesn’t currently exist.”

  “A Hunter who’s gotten in front of harder to reach people than a public Governor,” Flame corrected, amused in turn. “At worst I have to leave you behind and get there myself, but as long as you stay out of dark hallways, I think you’ll be fine.”

  “Thank you for saving my life,” she said dutifully, though there was an edge of a laugh in her voice. “I suppose that makes us even.”

  “Even?” Flame sat up, interested.

  “Even. I saved you at the den, shooting out that bot. You saved me at the shuttle station. I got you off Khatash. You saved me in that hall.”

  “Pardon, Human bounty hunter. There was also the Hunter at the door on the suborbital, who would have liked to play with your stringy bits.”

  “Pardon, fierce Depik Hunter. That Lumar who tried to shoot at us might have gotten you if I hadn’t kicked his gun away.”

  “Oh, was that what happened?” Flame asked innocently. “I thought you tripped.”

  “I’ll give you a half step up from me, then. It seems before this is done we’ll have a chance to even our score.”

  “I’ve heard worse suggestions.” And for the first time, Flame slow blinked a comfortable smile at the Human. It didn’t erase the restless urge for answers, but it helped.

  * * *

  Leaving the Peacemaker ship behind, to be towed or stowed somewhere at a surprisingly fair price, left little impression on either Human or Hunter. The two took their small bags of supplies and boarded the smaller shuttle without a look behind or much care for their surroundings. Briglen was a nothing of a station, seemingly put together with scraps and held together by spit, though it functioned at a higher level than its looks credited.

  Flame filed it away as a point of interest, her thoughts focused ahead, weighing branching possibilities of what they should do if Tamir’s contact did not have any new information. Del would have found a way to charge ahead, Blade would already have had three solid plans, and Death would know the right thing to do; Flame wished any of them were with her. Watch. Find a way. They had all learned that central lesson from their dama. She had to believe they would all apply it well.

  A waste of a thought that changed nothing, she told herself, checking the straps on her bench seat out of habit and glancing across the aisle at Tamir. The woman leaned back against the slight cushion of the wall, eyes closed, ignoring the searching looks of the two other passengers who were trying to figure out if she was traveling with a Depik assassin.

  They did not meet Flame’s eyes, which was just as well. She’d chosen to drop the quintessence field for this part of the journey, given the practical considerations of the logistics of their travel. The secret was out, at any rate—Flame was a spectacularly-talented assassin, but sudden hand-to-hand fighting had never been her specialty. The release of pent-up aggression and complete surprise had served her well, and it had also blown her cover. She should have paused to take stock of the situation and used weapons that could have pointed to Tamir or any other species, not her own claws. If their attackers had been better prepared, better trained, better armored than half-ready Humans, she and Tamir might have been in trouble.

  And why Humans? It continued to snag her thoughts; that question, as neither she nor Tamir determined a motive. What did an attack squad of Humans, potentially with a Lumar backing them up, have to do with a Depik Peacemaker’s death? Even if they had offended the Cemarap aide in some manner, why would he send Humans?

  Her ears flicked rapidly, dismissing the spiraling round of thoughts. Everything they knew or didn’t know just led back in an endless circle, and she wasn’t entirely sure how they would press forward. Contracts were often puzzles—learn about the target, make a plan that matched what the client both needed and wanted, and drive toward the clear objective that made the puzzle possible. Flame enjoyed building the puzzle nearly as much as successfully closing a contract. This though…. the objective was clear: prove Reow didn’t kill the Peacemaker by figuring out what had really happened. How to go about that, without client or any idea of what actually happened, rapidly formed into a flier’s funnel nest of frustration.

  At least she was visible, if nameless, out here on the edges of galactic travel. It meant other beings moved out of her way, and it eased some of her restlessness. There was security in her stealth, but what good was security with Reow dead and her clan scattered?

  She rooted so deeply in this sucking cycle of thoughts the docking of the shuttle surprised her, and the fact that she’d been unaware enough to be surprised soured her mood further. Flame wandered away from Tamir until the other two passengers had cleared out. If there was a dedicated search for a Human woman traveling with a Depik, that small distraction would hardly throw off detection, but it was enough, especially given the clientele here, to keep it from being an easy lead to find or follow.

  She made her way back when a squat, deeply-gray being of an unknown species came into the open docking area and turned its body directly toward Tamir. It d
idn’t look directly at Flame, which she appreciated, and made a waving motion with the three limbs lining its left side to the Human.

  “Leeb,” Tamir greeted, holding her left arm to the side and doing some sort of kick with her left leg. Flame took a moment to appreciate how comical it looked.

  “Tam. Show you your ship.” A minimum of small talk. Flame liked that too, which helped push her mood back to center.

  They moved through a warren of airlock tubes, and Flame kept her attention on their surroundings, to be sure she could find the way back to the shuttle if needed. Then, realizing the shuttle was likely temporary, she noted that whoever ran this ‘shipyard’ could just as easily blow an airlock connection if it came down to it. She turned her focus back to their silent guide. It resembled a lumpy boulder more than anything, with a jumpsuit that matched its hide exactly. Three limbs on each side, two longer than the third, thick trunk-legs only barely defined from the overall body.

  She opened her mouth to ask what it was when their guide halted, gesturing at the junction directly ahead—sealed airlock door to the left, and a narrower corridor curving off ahead.

  “Here,” Leeb said. “Ship is here.” All the limbs pointed to the airlock. “Food is down there.” All limbs shifted to point to the corridor. “You want to go or talk?”

  Tamir gestured to the corridor, and they walked in silence for another stretch. The food hall was the first non-airlock tube structure, a large shipping container-looking box with a handful of stalls and a lot of well-spaced seating options.

  “Looking for a job?” it asked after they’d each collected food and settled at a table well away from anyone else.

  “In one,” Tamir replied. “Got something interesting?”

  “Here and there. Your job good?”

  “Enough.” She allowed them all to eat in silence for a minute before leaning forward, suggesting it was time to get to business. “How much attention do you pay to the Governors?”

  It made a gesture that Flame was fairly sure meant ‘more or less,’ and sat quietly, waiting for the point.

  “Lot of movement that way, sounds like. Dead, retired, forced to retire.”

  A complicated shrug at that, indicating Governor turnover was usual. With so many of them, at any given time, some were bound to die or leave or be replaced for reasons both prosaic and scandalous.

  “Some of it’s been affecting the Peacemakers, too.”

  Now Leeb looked interested, widening both sets of eyes.

  “Both the Depik Governor and Peacemaker died recently. Heard anything there?” Tamir moved away from subtlety, meaning either this being was trustworthy, or she felt the pressing of time against them. No one would be able to track them easily, and this ‘shipyard’ wasn’t high on the galactic radar. Still, they hadn’t expected an attack on Capitol either. Flame didn’t know which of those motivated Tamir, but either way she respected it. Tamir had been good enough at what she did for long enough that Hrusha had regularly retained her. That and Flame’s own observations indicated sound judgement on Tamir’s part. And Flame felt that creeping tension down her spine that kept her wariest, so better to get to the point. Unlikely they’d be attacked was not the same as impossible.

  “Beings like to talk about Depik,” it said, glancing at Flame as if to gauge her reaction. She stared back, unsurprised by such an obvious statement. “But can’t say there’s been much seems real. Secretive.”

  “Imagine that, assassins being secretive,” Tamir answered, deadpan.

  Leeb fluttered some appendages, a gesture that neatly crossed species, and Tamir typed on her wristpad to transfer credits.

  “Governor didn’t just die. Word is someone tried to shop a contract around on a few Governors, trying to use another merc species. Depik don’t take those contracts anyway. Maybe a Depik was one of the targets. Heard the Governor wasn’t in bad health. Old, sure, but too healthy for sudden sick to make entire sense. So, like the Peacemaker, yeah? Taken out.”

  Flame wanted to care about that, given any dead Hunter was a blow to their fertility challenged species, but she didn’t. A dead Governor wasn’t what they were after, what had happened with the Peacemaker—the realization that it could be connected crashed on her half a heartbeat later. Her ears swiveled, as though searching for a clue to why that realization had not occurred to her sooner.

  Someone set up her dama, killing her and the Peacemaker she’d been sent to replace. The Peacemaker about to take on the Governor contract, which had opened…unexpectedly? She hadn’t much thought about it at the time, given how far the Governor’s concerns were from her own. She paid equally little attention to the council on Khatash—Reow handled all that with Blade, while she’d been more than happy to focus on her off-world contracts and hunting the jungles to improve her skills.

  “Got anyone who would speak to that?”

  “Just general word.” Another complicated shrug. “Depik are interesting, but who wants to get in their business? Best case you learn something, sure, worst case you get their attention.”

  Flame couldn’t argue that, though satisfaction and frustration conflicted on the matter.

  “Know who the other Governor targets were?”

  “Nah. Zuparti Governor died around the same time, but he’d been sick, and the MinSha and Terling ones rolled off, unsure of status. Maybe something on the Sidar Governor, though that was last session. Heard that’s why the Cemara Governor resigned early. Old and lost a lot of friends.”

  “Cemarap can be sentimental like that,” Tamir agreed, finishing off her noodles. “What’s the take on the Peacemakers?”

  “Business as usual,” it said, with another shrug that asked for money. When Tamir just stared, Leeb fluttered some limbs a bit more. “A little more activity, some side deals getting squashed, some action on the Buma and GenSha sides. Any need there?”

  Tamir shrugged in turn, visibly losing interest, and Flame judged their conversation about to end. She finished the last of her neatly-cubed meat and yawned, giving Leeb a healthy opportunity to see each of her perfect teeth.

  “Those extra credits are a thanks for your discretion,” Tamir said as she stood, pulling its attention back from Flame’s closing mouth. “Nobody followed us here, and we don’t want to be followed from here.”

  It nodded eagerly, and Flame thought it genuine. A combination of her own presence, Tamir’s money, and whatever past experience had made it a contact of Tamir’s in the first place, added up to something like loyalty. She didn’t put much faith in it keeping its mouth shut, but they should get enough of a head start. This moving shipyard hardly wanted more attention, and pulling the tail of someone with Peacemaker connections seemed as smart as climbing a poison-sticker vine to avoid the river.

  The walk back to their new ship was brief and uneventful, giving no outlet for the tension branching through Flame’s body. Tamir glanced at her a few times, but she shook her head tightly, and they went through the pre-flight checklist in relative silence.

  What passed for flight control gave them three hours before they could undock, so they took time for a proper tour. The small ship they’d acquired had five separate sections in the middle of its long ovoid. Galley, bridge, two crew quarters, and head. Cargo holds had been built into the edge points, making the ship more efficient by balancing the spin, and holding extra space outside the environmental protection needed for living crew. The records had been transferred to them—which appeared mostly true—showed the ship had been designed for a small family of Cochkala, and the edges of the walls snagged the eye with faint wrongness. Cochkala were solid traders, and understood the importance of doors not sliding shut on tails, but they moved differently from most species, and it showed in their design choices. Flame registered and ignored the oddness, appreciating that Tamir seemed to do the same. Working for the Peacemakers, and as a bounty hunter in general, Tamir had certainly had plenty of opportunities to adapt to or suffer through the occasional weirdness that ca
me from other species’ functional and stylistic decisions. Not entirely comfortable, but they would have time ahead to adjust.

  They settled their belongings in their small quarters and met in the middle to check provisions in the galley. Though the quiet had held for most of their review, it did not last long into their galley inspection.

  “Milk-eyed fool,” Flame muttered, tail lashing as she paced, opening storage drawers and checking them against the manifest the ship recorded. The bitterness in her voice indicated her disgust was self-aimed, though the flexing claws still drew Tamir’s full attention.

  “I thought you revered your elders,” she said, deciding to try for a distraction.

  It worked, in part. Flame stopped short and stared at her in confusion. Her brightly blue eyes bore into Tamir’s brown ones as though to unlock the meaning of the Human’s non-sequitur.

  “Milky eyes,” Tamir repeated, more slowly. “An old Depik, right? Why is that an insult? Because they can’t hunt as well?”

  Flame chuffed a noise that wasn’t quite amusement, but didn’t mean imminent violence either.

  “Milk eyes.” Now it was Flame’s turn to sound overly patient, and her tail jerked irregularly. “Babies, not elders. Until they’re weaned, kits aren’t much more than stomachs and a few sharp edges, and their vision is poor and cloudy through most of it. Milk-eyed means you aren’t suited to be on your own outside the den, as something will almost certainly eat your round little self before you see it coming.” The pacing picked up again, slower, but still anger fueled. “I can’t believe I didn’t consider it—the possibility of a connection between the Governor and the Peacemaker.”

  Tamir sat and stretched her legs, making a point of looking comfortable in the chair and closed out the manifest file.

  “I know we’re still here,” Flame continued, understanding what the Human motion was meant to convey. She had been half-raised by a Human, a fact Tamir took advantage of in the wordless communication. “I know it’s not entirely logical for it to bother me, but it makes me worry what else I’m missing. That a Hunter would be behind it, or Hunters, combining with some other species to attack our own…I should have at least considered it.”