by Kacey Ezell
“Yes.”
“Against what?”
“I do not entirely know. Hunters are endlessly creative, Mr. Conason. And I’d wager another one of those diamonds that everything you’ve heard about them is true. But we are not without our own advantages. She can do everything an attacker can do. And she can do it better.”
“And if she dies anyway? Childbirth or whatever?”
“Then you keep the signing bonus, and the contract expires without being totally fulfilled.”
“Hardly seems fair.”
“I am paying you in red diamonds for a reason, Mr. Conason. Very little about life is fair.”
“Good point,” Conason said.
“Do we have a contract, Mr. Conason?” Death asked. The Human man turned his attention from Susa back to the Hunter sitting on his desk.
“I believe we do, Death From Above,” he said, holding out his hand. Death slow blinked and placed her fingerpads against his palm once more.
“Excellent. Please call me Death.”
* * *
Conason, it turned out, was the detachment commander for the Houston office of The Golden Horde.
“Our main facility is in Tashkent, of course,” he said as he led them out of his office after they finalized the details of the protection contract. He turned left to continue down the short hallway to a set of double doors at the end. The doors opened onto a utilitarian concrete stairwell that spiraled down. Conason held the door and waved for them to go on through. Death, back in her carrier for the moment, felt Susa’s slight increase in tension as she stepped into the stairwell. It had no visible exits, merely wound down into the growing dark below their feet.
“I usually bring up the lights in here,” Conason said as he stepped through with them. “Otherwise, it gets a little gloomy and creepy. But I can leave them low if you prefer, Doctor.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. He gave her a smile that managed to look both knowing and kind, and stepped deliberately past her, careful not to invade her personal space. Then he began leading the way down, picking up his lecture as if he’d never interrupted it.
“Tashkent, if you weren’t aware, is in Uzbekistan. Bit of a ways away, but it’s tradition, and it’s home. But most of the other companies are headquartered here in Houston, and so we have to have a field office here. Problem is, we like to spread out. And in Houston, space is at a bit of a premium, as I’m sure you’ve seen. So, we dig.”
“I see. An underground facility,” Susa said, when it became apparent that Death wasn’t going to respond. The Hunter wondered if most Humans felt the need to talk so much. Susa never had, but then, it wasn’t hard to believe that among Humans, her beloved Susa was extraordinary.
“Exactly.” By then they were approaching the bottom floor of the staircase. Another set of double doors stood in an otherwise unrelieved cinderblock wall. Conason pressed the bar that stretched across the doors and they both swung ponderously open.
Lights clicked on in the room thus revealed. Its footprint wasn’t much larger than that of an average-sized Basreeni hangar bay, but the ceiling stretched several stories above their heads, giving the whole place a cavernous feel. The perimeter of the room stood ringed in huge, hulking shapes that appeared vaguely bipedal.
“We’re not technically completely underground,” Conason said. “I don’t know if you noticed, but the front office sits on sort of a hill.”
“What is ‘sort of a hill’?”
“Large parts of downtown Houston were destroyed some years back. Riots and things. No one ever came in to move the rubble out, they just laid down dirt and built on top of it. The location of our front office used to be the fourth floor of a bank building. Anyway, this hangar opens out the back of that former hill.”
“That seems…incredibly unstable…” Susa said, doubt clear in her tone. Conason turned to flash a surprisingly sunny grin at her.
“It was. But we’re defensive engineers, don’t you know? The City of Houston contracted with us to stabilize the downtown area, and we got this prime location as part of the deal.”
“Interesting,” Susa said.
“Still a doubter, huh?” Conason said. “Well, after nightfall I’ll open up the doors and let you check out the view. It’s actually pretty cool, and it suits our purposes to a ‘T.’”
“No need for all that, Mr. Conason,” Susa said quickly. “That seems rather an unnecessary risk. I’d rather we just focus on Death’s security.”
“Of course,” Conason said, his grin fading to a more professional-looking smile. His tone didn’t change, but Death saw a slight tension in his shoulders. Disappointment, perhaps? Was he that proud of the facility and the view? Death seriously doubted any vantage point Conason could offer would improve the ugliness of the Human city. Perhaps he read rebuke in Susa’s words, rather than simply urgent concern. Whatever the reason, Death resolved to watch Conason closely.
Not that she would have done otherwise, in any case. It was, after all, the first lesson. Watch. Then find a way.
“This facility is the most securely defended in all of Houston,” Conason was saying. “Unless you’d be willing to travel to Uzbekistan?”
“Perhaps eventually,” Susa said. “Though I think it would behoove us to remain in the Free Trade Zone for a little longer to see what may be seen. I took steps, and it may be that no one knows we are here.”
“That would make my job easy,” Conason said. “I agree, I think it would be useful to know a bit more about what we’re dealing with before making hasty decisions. We’ll remain here for a few weeks, at least. Get an ear out on the GalNet and a few other less formal information streams. Size up the situation. Typically, the Horde is known for securing a position, though we have done executive protection details in the past. For now, your detail will consist of my staff here.”
“How many Humans?” Death asked as she looked around and counted the giant metal monstrosities docked around the room. Eight.
“I have a staff of twelve. Eight CASPer drivers and four support staff. Would you like to meet them?”
“Yes, please,” Death said. Conason nodded, and walked over to one of the CASPer bays. He punched a button, and a light began to flash. A door opened in the wall next to the CASPer, and a shortish man with a fringe of wiry fur on the bottom of his face popped out.
“Susa…” Death murmured in her own language as this new individual approached Conason. The newcomer moved with a kind of frenetic energy which was both fascinating and slightly disturbing. Death wanted to see more.
“Yes, of course, Little Dama,” Susa responded in kind, and unfastened the door of the carrier once again. As Conason and the newcomer exchanged words, Death leapt up onto Susa’s shoulder and pulled quintessence, cloaking herself in bent light.
“Dr. Aloh, Death From Above, may I present Brian “Bubba” Gnad, my mechanic. Bubba, our clients, Dr. Aloh and…where is Death?”
Susa smiled and shook her head. Conason’s expression started to collapse into a slow frown, and Death let the cloaking drop.
“I am here, Mr. Conason,” she said.
“How did you do that?” the newcomer, Gnad, asked.
“I cannot tell you that, Mr. Gnad. To do so would render your life forfeit.”
“Now wait a minute,” Gnad said, nearly vibrating with energy as he rocked forward onto the balls of his feet. His chest swelled and squared up, and his jaw thrust forward. “Client or not, you can’t just go around threatening people—”
“My mistress meant no offense, Mr. Gnad,” Susa said smoothly. “Hunters do not threaten as you know it. She was simply explaining the law of her people. The knowledge of Hunter abilities is a closely-guarded racial secret. She would not be able to share it and let you live.”
“Who says she could—”
“Bubba, enough,” Conason said, laying a hand on the other man’s shoulder. He squeezed lightly before turning to look at Susa, the bland look back on his face. “Your mistress,
is it?”
Susa froze and then let out a small sigh. Death began to stroke her hair in an attempt to comfort her. For some reason, Susa hadn’t wanted to be specific about the nature of her connection to the clan. Death didn’t understand it, but then, it wasn’t her planet or her culture, and so she had respected Susa’s attempts at discretion.
“Yes, my mistress,” Susa said. “But before I explain further, I would like to invoke the confidentiality clause of our contract.”
“All right,” Conason said. “If you wish.”
“I do.”
“Fine. You have confidentiality. Dr. Aloh, what exactly is the nature of your relationship to Death From Above?”
“I raised her from kittenhood. I am her molly…like a nanny, but also a teacher.”
“So, you’re like a servant?”
“No, Mr. Conason, I am more than that. I am a sigiled being and therefore a member of the clan. Death’s mother, her dama, is my dama as well. I am…well, the closest equivalent would be…a pet.”
Death looked over at Conason and Gnad, reading shock in their eyes. She continued to stroke Susa’s hair.
“Gentlemen, I love Susa and she loves me. She, and my offspring, may be all that is left of my family.”
“You keep Humans as pets?” Gnad breathed.
“Only Susa,” Death said with pride. “She is the only one. Our clan accrued quite a bit of status when Dama acquired her.”
“But—”
Gnad shut his mouth when Conason nudged him.
“All right,” he said. “That’s your business, I suppose, Dr. Aloh. Now, shall we get on with our demonstration?”
“That would be lovely,” Susa said, with a sad smile. Death looked from her face to those of her fellow Humans, but she didn’t quite get it. Why was Susa suddenly sad?
* * * * *
Complications
Ziv Station meant another ninenight of travel, during which no more than seventeen words were exchanged. By the time they arrived, neither was angry, but stubbornness and habit kept them silent until they’d docked.
Flame went down to the airlock, lounging on two legs and adjusting her bag and vest as she waited.
“Are you going in visibly?”
It was the most words either of them had spoken since Benabat, and Flame was inordinately pleased it had been Tamir to do so. She preened a bit, rubbing the back of her front paw against each of her cheeks, and smoothed the fur showily before replying, making sure Tamir noticed.
“Yes. We’ll know pretty quickly if they’re used to Depik here, as Kelket mentioned.”
“You don’t trust the Governor?”
“Do you?”
“I’m just glad I’ll be able to see you coming this time.”
“Will you?” Flame asked, adding a slow blink that made it a tease.
Tamir relaxed further at the show of humor, and that felt like an entirely different sort of win. The airlock chimed, and Flame leapt to cycle it open before Tamir moved.
“I can’t promise you no surprises, but I won’t change the plan,” Flame offered, pausing inside the airlock.
“A surprise already, Hunter.” Tamir moved ahead, stopping only for the second airlock to open into the station and crossing over. “Thank you,” she added, so softly a Human’s ears would likely have missed it.
Flame made a pleased noise and charged ahead, staying tall rather than dropping to all fours.
“You’re a Depik, huh?” The high-pitched voice that greeted them asked as soon as Flame left the airlock. It issued from a furry body about half her height, and Flame regarded this smaller presence with real interest.
The Flatar’s fur was shorter than hers, somewhat puffier, brown and cream stripes compared to her own sleek black. While Flatars were deadly shots, Flame found herself rather impressed that one had come running to meet them alone, rather than riding its much larger Tortantula partner.
“I am. And you?”
“Nah, I’m no Depik.” It made a chattering noise that Flame recognized as a laugh. “Flatar, name’s Rill. You?”
“I’m Flame. This is Tam,” she added as Tamir stepped out of the airlock in turn. “I greet you, Flatar Hunter.”
“Pleased to meet you, Rill. Are you just passing by, or did flight control pass on our message?” Tamir was friendly but not too friendly, which Flame figured was a good call in Tortantula territory.
“Little of both. Who you here to see?”
“Chok and Fisi,” Flame answered, trying to figure out if Rill’s ease was because she was familiar with Depik, and maybe had known Hrusha, or because she was entirely confident on her home ground.
“Yeah, you go big, huh?” Rill whistled low, impressed. “Assassins keeping it real.”
Flame cocked her head, unsure what the Flatar meant by it, but choose not to be offended.
“Come this way, they’ll be in the pit. Some bidding going on, don’t think you’ll be able to meet them anywhere else.”
They fell in with Rill, following her through the wide halls of a station built for Tortantulas. As they walked, one came around the curve, two legs appearing, then eyes and pointed talons, then eight more legs. The walkway was built wide enough for two to pass each other, so they weren’t remotely crowded, but Flame slowed all the same.
Several eyes shifted to regard her, two top predators recognizing and acknowledging the other. The Tortantula was easily four times taller than her, and some fifty times heavier, and was one of very few beings Flame would agree had a chance at taking down a Hunter.
“Hey Guff,” Rill said cheerily, flipping something like a salute and receiving a clacking of fangs in reply. Tamir kept her eyes caged ahead of them, which also seemed like a sensible decision.
They passed a number of other Flatars and Tortantulas in various combinations, and few others. Other galactic species who chose to spend time in Tortantula space were rare, which made sense. After they’d crossed three levels and several different walkways, Rill slowed, small rounded ears flicking rapidly. She tapped her ear, receiving a message, then typed something back on her slate rather than replying aloud.
“Changing it up,” Rill announced, turning around. “Fisi says him and Chok are gonna meet you outside the pit.”
Flame followed the change in direction, disappointed. She was ready to see half a company’s worth of Tortantulas and Flatars all in a crowd. Something she hadn’t seen before, a group of them at rest—as much as those species rested. Tamir’s shoulders relaxed, only a touch, but enough that Flame figured the bounty hunter was relieved. Tamir had a healthy survival instinct. Flame could respect that.
They only backtracked half a hallway before turning down a new, smaller corridor and crossing another level.
“Short cut!” Rill announced.
“Is this a service tube?” Tamir asked, ducking her head as they walked. The ceiling cleared her height, barely. Dimmer lights lined the upper edges of the walls, and there was a distinctive woodier smell.
“Flatar tunnels.” Rill pointed up with both hands, bringing their attention to a small, round hole in the ceiling as they passed under it. “Sometimes we want to climb.”
Flame leaned back to check out the opening and noticed more ahead. She could fit, which was good to know, though there was no way Tamir could. Still, if things fell apart on this particular station to that point, Flame wasn’t sure she could get them both out alive. Her attention sharpened further, excitement at the challenge rising. This was easily the most interesting place their travels had taken them.
“Tortantulas can fit in here,” she gestured to the corridor around them, “they squash down pretty well. But mostly they leave this part for us.”
“Much as we appreciate the tour—what’s with the change of plans?” Flame asked, genuinely curious. A little hopeful it was to set up an attack, so she could really get a good stretch going, but mostly curious.
“Fisi said nothing good on the bidding. Small contracts, nothing with tha
t wholesale slaughter upside. You know? We don’t like to kill just one thing at a time.” She glanced sideways at Flame, all mischief.
“No fun in the universe if everyone likes the same killing,” Tamir interjected dryly, and Flame flicked her tail at the pair of them.
“Sure. Anyway, here you are. I gotta get back to the pit, see if they were exaggerating. Some of us would be happy just to blow some stuff up for decent pay. Not asking too much, huh?” The corridor deposited them in a much larger hall, and the Flatar pointed at the door across the way.
She did not, however, leave, which Flame noted. The little being kept her eyes locked on the doorway, and her fluffy tail nearly vibrated with something that might have been excitement or anticipation. Flame cut in front of Tamir to cross the hallway, waving idly behind her as though to say goodbye to Rill or keep Tamir back. Both, and thankfully Tamir picked up the hint and lagged back in the hallway.
Flame motioned the door open, making it look casual, but she was ready when two large, spike-haired legs slammed down precisely where she’d just been standing. Flame had already dodged, laughing, and lunged in, to get inside the Tortantula’s reach and out of the line of fire for any Flatar rider.
In her peripheral vision, she saw Tamir duck and roll, coming up in a crouch with her gun pointed unerringly above the Tortantula.
Rill, hanging back across the hall, clapped.
“Nice moves, skinsuit. I still got you in range.” The Flatar perched atop the Tortantula had a similarly high-pitched voice as Rill, but it skewed a lot crankier.
“Back atcha, furball.” Tamir cocked her head, waiting.
“I mean, mine’s bigger.” Significantly so. The gun was bigger than the Flatar handling it.
“Yeah, size matters. Speaking of, I see your partner. You see mine?”
“Aw, shit.” The Flatar kept his eyes on Tamir, but dropped a hand to tap the Tortantula. “She’s under us, isn’t she?”
“No,” the multi-legged fighter replied, eyes looking in different directions.
“Hi,” Flame said, tapping the Flatar on the shoulder. “Nice to meet you too.”