by Kacey Ezell
“No.” Hrusha drew out the word, heralding the next, “But it was suspicious to me. Sissisk was getting older, but I had hunted with her days before. She was in perfect health. A peaceful death in her sleep was her future. And Kelket’s gift was so extravagant. As though she were guilty.”
Flame turned toward Tamir, remembering half-whispered rumors gleaned from a dark corner of a shipyard designed to be forgotten. The kind of place one would float contracts against targets no Hunter would touch.
But what if one did?
“As you note, Sidar, it was not much, but enough that I paid attention. Mercenary companies were at the root of Kelket and Sissisk’s disagreement, so I took our friendly wagers and applied them to the profits and successes of several major or growing companies. I mostly won, until Kelket started betting on the fortunes of a Lumar company known as the Proud Fist.”
Deluge sat up very straight, his ears pricked forward in interest.
Hrusha slow blinked. “This company was winning contracts that no Lumar company had business even bidding upon. As I’m sure Deluge can tell you, the Lumar are brawlers, good for a dust-up and not much else. So why, then, were they snatching fortified assault contracts from the jaws of much more capable Tortantula companies?”
“Rhaabou, their former commander,” Deluge said softly. “And her sister, Apeya.”
“Yes,” Hrusha said. “Their Veetanho commanders were undercutting the bids, winning the contracts, and soaking up the losses while their pinpeck farmer masters raked in the attrition bonuses.”
“They paid them out, too,” Deluge said. “We’ve got the financials from the Proud Fist mercenary company. They were paying out combat bonuses and refitting fees to companies owned by the same pinpeck farming conglomerate. The whole thing was a credit laundering scheme, but Rhaabou got greedy and started skimming off the top. So, her sister, Apeya, who is on the board of the farming conglomerate, got the bright idea to take out a contract on the greedy commander.”
“You can thank me for that,” Hrusha said, slow blinking. “You do have clever offspring, Reow. I congratulate you.”
“Thank you,” Reow said.
“You see,” Hrusha said, turning back to her rapt audience. “I knew something wasn’t right with those contracts, so I went to talk to a few of the Tortantula companies to find out what they knew about the Proud Fist. All they could tell me was that they’d undercut the bid, and that they’d been nearly annihilated for their trouble by the Golden Horde. The entire station was abuzz with the gossip. Apparently, you Humans have developed a new kind of battle suit.” She turned to look at Tamir in inquiry.
“They have,” Deluge said, before the bounty hunter could speak. “They call it the CASPer Mark 3. I talked to one of the designers. And one of the survivors of that battle. He said they were quite deadly.”
“Yes, well, they certainly did make the upstart Human mercenary companies sound much more effective. Almost everyone in that pit was talking about it. It was exactly the kind of example Sissisk said Kelket used as to why Humans shouldn’t be allowed to petition for membership.
“In any case, I needed to know more about the Proud Fist. So, I did some research, and discovered the same thing you did, Deluge. Rhaabou was skimming off the top, and her sister, Apeya, was displeased. I sent her an anonymous message, strongly recommending that she seek a contract with a member of the Night Wind Clan on Khatash. And then I requested your dama by name as my successor.”
“But why?” Flame burst out, unable to help herself. “Why us?”
“Because,” Hrusha said. “If my friend Sissisk was murdered, it had to have been by the hand of another Hunter. She would have suspected anyone else and would have survived. But someone from Khatash got to her.
“Your clan is small. You have taken in no outsiders, and every one of you had a legitimate alibi. I could be reasonably confident none of you were involved in her murder, and I needed more information. So, I sent Tamir to you, to be on site and to see what developed. You see, I knew that there was threat to my life, and likely Reow’s once she arrived. So, we decided to let our enemies think they had succeeded in taking us out. Once that was done, and once Rhaabou and Apeya were taken out of the picture, we expected they would make a move.”
“A moment, Peacemaker,” Deluge said, holding up a paw as he interrupted her again. She slow blinked and flicked her ears in permission for him to continue. “The contract was only for Rhaabou. How could you predict that I would eliminate Apeya as well?”
“I didn’t,” Hrusha said. “The contract was originally offered to and accepted by your sister, Silent Flame. Her record of successful contracts indicated she had the personality traits I desired…she hated waste, and wouldn’t appreciate the kind of dynamic those two Veetanho sisters had. I gambled she would act as you have done. I am a very skilled gambler,” she added, dropping her jaw to show all her teeth.
Deluge inclined his head in agreement.
“Also,” Reow said, coming to her four feet. “You must understand, we never imagined you would all be put under interdict. I knew eventually you would find my quintessence field via Iora, and I thought that you would at least be able to communicate and coordinate your efforts with one another. We never anticipated our enemy’s response would be as vindictive as it was.”
“But who is the enemy?” Tamir asked, leaning forward. “Governor Kelket was behind the plot, but who was she paying? Who is the assassin?”
“I have an idea,” Reow said. “But no proof. One of the reasons for our masquerade was to try and draw her out.”
“Her?”
“Yes. My instinct tells me that it is a particular dama. One who argued vociferously against my posting here. Dirrys, of the Whispering Fear Clan. But again, I have no proof,” Reow’s tail twitched as she allowed those present to see her frustration.
“So, what do we do now?” Deluge asked.
“We must obtain proof. Though I don’t know how we’re to do that without Kelket,” Hrusha said.
“Go home,” Tamir said.
“What?”
“Your clan is under interdict because they think you killed the Peacemaker, right?” the bounty hunter said, turning to Reow. “But if you and Hrusha arrive on Khatash, they’ll have to acknowledge that no crime was committed. And if it is this Dirrys, we can see how she reacts. Maybe she’ll trip herself up when you return. Especially when you come back bearing the Proud Fist financial statements that establish a credit trail from Kelket’s pinpeck collective to her clan.”
“The statements aren’t that clear,” Rurranach said.
“Yes, but she doesn’t know that, does she?” Tamir replied with a grin.
“Apparently, I’m not the only gambler in this room,” Hrusha said, her voice threaded through with approval as she looked at her longtime associate.
“Not even close,” Tamir said, and for some reason, turned to grin at Flame.
“When do we leave?” Flame replied, slow blinking and flexing her claws. “Tell me now works.”
* * *
Flame made herself a target.
They had announced their return to Khatash while still in route. Iora flew alongside Dimintina and the Peacemaker ship Aloru with clear signatures, on a direct course. They had Hrusha, alive. The interdict was entropy and rotten waste. Their return dared Whispering Fear’s Dama to come for them.
Flame hoped she would.
More often than not, when faced with a threat or a target, Flame prowled, a moving target impossible to sense in her quintessence field. She would stalk, and wait, and strike from nowhere. Not this time.
She stood directly in the airlock as it opened, giving the impression of ease, ready to strike.
And froze, when the hall in front of them revealed…
Blade.
Blade, a livid scar burned across half his face. Less an ear and an eye, from when she’d last seen him.
“I greet you, littlest,” he said when it became clear she w
asn’t moving.
“Blade,” she said, abandoning the greeting. She had been ready for anything, always, braced herself for any number of confrontations upon their arrival to Khatash’s suborbital station. Not this. Not him. Aware she was floundering, she crossed into the station, her hand lifting to touch part of his scar before she’d meant to do anything.
“You’ve been busy,” he said, and there was humor in his voice.
That fact stabbed against her so painfully she took a ragged breath, and then another, steadier one. Blade. He was alive. That made three of them.
“So have you, biggest. What…”
He flicked an ear, interrupting her question, and leaned forward to rub his unmarred cheek against hers.
“How did you convince Dama to let you dock first?”
“I didn’t. She made us keep this stupid ship, so I asked Tamir to get fancy and cut Iora off just enough to slow her down. I wanted to be here first, in case—”
“In case Whispering Fear attacked.” Blade finished her sentence, and she nodded, wondering as his tail waved. As though he had a secret. “No worry on that front, littlest. I’m mated to their dama.”
“BLADE.” She stepped back from him, thoroughly thrown. “Tamir!”
The Human leaned around the edge of the airlock, and Flame knew she’d have a hand on the holster of her gun, the other hand loosening its wrist.
“Standby,” Flame continued, staring at her brother. “We may still have to kill everyone.” She didn’t mean it, but she was at such a loss she could do nothing but joke. Del would have appreciated it.
“Iora will finish depressurizing in a minute. Walk with me.”
She did, gesturing for Tamir to follow, unable to tear her bemused gaze from Blade. Behind them, Tamir muttered about manners, or Hunters, but Flame couldn’t focus on her. She knew the Human would repeat herself, as needed, louder and more to her face later. If the ground stopped shifting under her long enough to reach a later.
Waiting outside Iora’s dock was a female Hunter—a damita, Flame corrected herself, taking in the visible pregnancy. Her fur was a cloudy gray, and her eyes focused first on Blade, then Flame, and finally Tamir.
She was demonstrably not Dirrys, and Flame didn’t have time for a greeting before the airlock clunked and began to cycle open.
“That was a nasty trick you pulled with Dimintina, Littlest,” Deluge said, his ears flat as he leapt through the opening. “You’re lucky Iora’s so maneuverable. Blade! I greet you, big brother! What in entropy happened to your eye? And…I, Choking Deluge, of Night Wind Clan, greet you, Damita. I surely hope you’re not going to try to kill me, not with a litter growing.”
“I greet you, Hunters.” The gray damita pricked both ears forward, amused by Choking Deluge and apparently pleased by his jump to preventing violence. Flame felt the realization crash the moment before the other Hunter said the words, “I am Ichys, Dama of Whispering Fear. Blade has told me much about you.” She turned her eyes to Flame. “Both of you.”
“Dama,” Flame said, dipping her head slightly in respect, “I greet you.” At least a hundred questions crowded in her throat, but Blade was flipping his ear at her again, and habit made her hold them.
A series of chimes announced that the third airlock had begun to open, and the group of them turned to face it. Out of the corner of her eye, Flame caught sight of Del’s Sidar stepping out and to Deluge’s side.
Then she carefully watched Blade’s face and ears as their dama emerged into the hallway.
Blade took two sudden steps toward their dama, as though he hadn’t truly believed she’d be there until he put eyes on her. His ears pricked toward her, back toward Ichys, and back toward Reow again, and he stared at their dama hard enough Flame wasn’t sure he’d noticed Hrusha at all.
“Dama,” he said, the rest of the greeting stalling in his mouth.
“I greet you, my kit,” she said, slow blinking. She crossed the remaining distance to him and took a moment to rub her cheek hard against his uninjured one. “Does the one who hurt you still breathe?”
“No,” he said simply. “But I did not kill her.”
“He wounded her, Dama, and she fell to another of my clan’s Hunters.” Sorrow touched the younger dama’s tone on only the last words.
“Dama, I introduce to you Ichys, Dama of Whispering Fear.”
Reow turned to face the younger dama and gave her a long, measuring look.
“And so,” she said. “Dirrys is dead?”
“As I said,” Ichys replied.
“And will you continue your clan’s enmity toward mine?”
The question dropped like a stone in the sudden silence that followed. Flame glanced at Blade, at Deluge and his Sidar, at Tamir and Hrusha, and lastly at Reow and Ichys. Ichys did not blink, and there was no hesitation in her. She paused only to touch Blade lightly with one hand, and rest the other on her midsection.
“Blade is my mate. I would prefer to move forward as allies.” Her voice remained calm, outnumbered in that hall by many who had cause to hate her clan. In that moment, Flame decided she liked her brother-kit’s new mate, though the realization made her miss their remaining sibling even more.
Reow stared for a moment longer, and then slowly blinked her eyelids in a smile.
“Then I greet you, Dama of Whispering Fear and beloved of my kit. Congratulations on your litter.” She turned to gesture for Hrusha to come forward. “And I introduce you to Governor-elect Hrusha, who was nominated before the council, and as you can see, is very much still alive. I imagine we will all have many questions and much to discuss. Shall we proceed to the council’s meeting chamber, so that we can explain everything only once?”
“Dama.” Ichys inclined her head, conveying agreement and respect, and turned to Hrusha. “Governor-Elect, I greet you. I know all await your words with interest.” She led them down the hall, where Flame was sure a dropship waited to take them to the surface. And to the many questions from very-invested clan leaders.
She had never been so happy to be home.
* * * * *
Epilogue
It was over.
Susa drew in a deep, shuddering breath as the airlock began its opening sequence.
“Nervous?” Conason asked, next to her. She looked up at him with a small smile.
“Not exactly,” she said. “Overwhelmed, perhaps, but in a good way. Your mission is almost finished, Mr. Conason. It was good of you and Mr. Connor to escort us all the way home.”
As she spoke, a soft mewling sound came from underneath her outer jacket. A small, black-furred head poked out of her collar and looked directly at Conason.
“Dama?” the little one squeaked.
“I am here, Bubba,” Death replied, behind Susa. She had regained her liquescence of movement in the time since she’d given birth, and the molly was glad to see it. “Where are your sister-kitas? Susita? Caspr?”
An orange kita appeared on the floor next to Conason’s booted foot, looking perfectly smug with herself. Conason bit off a curse and bent to pick her up. As he did so, a grey-striped head poked out of the back of his shirt and climbed out onto his shoulder, prompting more curses.
“Damn your sharp little claws, Susita!” the Human merc said, reaching around his neck to pull the striped one forward to join her sister and brother. On Susa’s other side, Tony Connor smothered a chuckle.
Susa thought about admonishing the kits to be good, reminding them of their manners and greeting, but those thoughts fled as the airlock door finally irised open and she saw them.
Del, orange as the sunrise and dropping his jaw in a grin, standing beside a sigiled Sidar.
Blade, battered but happy, wearing the air of command as he stood firm while his very pregnant mate leaned against him.
Flame, the littlest. Always the best at hiding and stealth, now nearly shining with confidence and resting on the shoulder of the Human bounty hunter.
And in front of all of them, Reo
w. The one who’d saved her from herself so long ago. The one who’d taught her how to love. The one who’d given her a family.
“I greet you, clan of my heart,” she found herself saying. She couldn’t say more, for her words felt choked with emotion. She cleared her throat and blinked overfilled eyes while Death rocketed forward to embrace her dama and littermates.
“Susa,” Reow said softly after a moment. “You saved her, and her kittens.”
“Only three,” Susa said, bending down, and gesturing for the mercs to follow. “We lost one, but here are Bubba, Susita, and Caspr. Kits, greet your dama.”
“That’s not Dama!” little orange Susita snapped. “Dama’s right there!”
Reow laughed.
“I am your dama’s dama,” she said. “She was once a tiny kita in my hands, just as you are now. I greet you, lovely little ones, and welcome you to the family.”
Her beautiful blue eyes tracked up to meet Susa’s.
“Welcome home.”
# # # # #
Glossary
Basreen—a smaller predator native to Khatash. Also the Hunters’ preferred aerial/orbital supremacy fighter, named after the above species.
Cheelin—a large, dangerous prey animal native to Khatash.
Clan—the Hunter’s family structure and business framework.
Cooz—a fermented Khatashi beverage made from the poisonous sap of the tree by the same name. The drink is much prized by Hunters, though it is fatal to any other species.
Dama—the Depik word for both mother and queen. The head of a clan.
Damita—a lesser Dama, a female Hunter who has borne kittens and is a leader within the clan, but not the head of the clan.
Deo—a male elder of the clan.
Elder—any of the Damas, damitas or deos who convene to discuss/decide on matters that affect the race of Hunters as a whole.
Hunter—the Depik word for themselves.
Khatash—the Depik home planet.