Arow stood and stretched, shaking his thoughts from skin, fur, and mind. “You need someone to take the contract.”
“Oh, no,” Dirrys purred, her tail gently twitching. “If this Human killed one of our strongest, rising hunters, I could hardly risk you. And, Whispering Fear has the finances to buy out the contract. I don’t need anyone to do anything.”
She had summoned her clan’s hunters, though not to make the decision for her. Dirrys always wanted to be in full control. His tail twitched once before he could still himself again, and he managed not to sigh. No, he could not understand her, not now any more than in times past, but he could win his way through this encounter, regardless.
“My words were unwise, Dama,” he said, keeping his tone carefully free of any traces of vulnerability. No need to show his throat. “You choose to put it to the hunters, to see who will rise to the challenge, for the good of the clan.”
“The good of the clan,” she murmured, a set of claws flexing before she regained her composure. “Isn’t that why I do everything?”
He would never say his thoughts aloud, nor allow as much as a strand of fur to betray him.
“Dama,” he said, inclining his upper body to her.
“I only wish his body had been returned to us.” There was poison in her tone, and an electric shudder ran through him.
“Dama?” He had an honest question now, tempered by a hint of the fear that suddenly shot through him. Hunters’ bodies were always reclaimed. That was something all the galaxy knew—if a hunter ever fell, it took the pills that scrambled its DNA, the signal of it sending its ship home. Natural death or no, there was no risk that any of their genetic truths would be revealed to any other sentient creature, or their technology claimed outside of Khatash.
“I’ll see you inside, elder.” With a very faint twist of the last word, she was gone. As always, she knew exactly how to unsettle him and leave him wondering where his feet needed to land to keep from crashing to the jungle floor.
Arow completed his route around the den, considering all his Dama had and hadn’t said, what she expected, and what he was willing to give. Sisk had fallen. The clan had resources and could easily buy out the contract. However, the mark had been a Human...Sisk was the second hunter to ever fall to a Human, and for it to happen so recently after the first hunter was lost made it even more shocking. Of all the discovered species, he couldn’t understand how Humans could possibly be so deadly to the galaxy’s premier assassins. What secrets did they hide under that fragile skin? Were Humans a threat to hunters, somehow, hiding their power behind a somewhat successful mercenary front?
More pressingly, was it possible that Sisk hadn’t scrambled himself before he died? That even now, some fleshy, vein-ridden Human had wrapped its too-long digits around the hunter’s body?
No walk could bring peace to him as long as he had that thought in his head, so he leapt up and around the sides of the den to work off his adrenaline, and finally slipped inside a little-used crack far above the main entrance.
It took little time to wind his way to the main meeting room, though he took switchbacks and side paths, to avoid passing clan members along the way. Outside the gathering he paused, listening to the general pulse of conversation, of light jockeying for position. None of the hunters scented him, or noticed his approach.
His tail curled with a hint of satisfaction before he leapt for the door ledge, an easy twist curling him through and landing him on the door frame. He was sure the Dama would have noticed him, but she had yet to arrive, so he took his time picking his way through the room. He moved through the crowd so easily, even the loose cluster of the universe’s deadliest assassins didn’t notice him before he reached his destination. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy the surprise behind him; it took more than simple deadliness for a male hunter to rise to elder status, and Arow had been an elder long enough to see a second generation of kits join the rank of clan hunters.
A second generation that had, until lately, included Sisk. The thought tempered the pleasure of the moment. Sisk had fallen, and his body was lost.
Worse still, and something Arow would keep very close, Sisk may have been caught so quickly by his mark that he hadn’t scrambled. It was a small chance...and yet. Dirrys wouldn’t have said anything had there been no chance. That was a worry she would not give without reason. Even to him. It meant Arow would have to stalk his mark, stretching the contract further. He would have to take more time to consider what threat a Human might pose to a hunter.
Realizing he’d made the decision to take on the contract, he stood upright, banishing the thought before it could affect his posture, dropped the light-skidding that made him invisible to most species’ eyes, and revealed himself to the last of the assembled who hadn’t noticed him yet. He might be getting old, but he wasn’t so old he couldn’t hunt his own prey. As though it were a signal, the Dama sidled in, graciously allowing the hunters nearest the entrance to come close and pay their respects.
She continued on to the elevated side of the room, keeping some slight tension in her walk so all knew how serious the moment was, but not enough to change the tenor of the room. Not until she spoke.
“Sisk will not return to us,” she said simply. “His contract remains incomplete.”
Murmurs showed that even disciplined assassins could be surprised. Several allowed their fur to rise up, or twitched an ear or tail too rapidly. From one corner of the room, someone spit, though the emotion behind it could have been one of many. Certainly Arow had been driven to such reactions in this room before, with less of a provocation.
When it seemed their dama was inclined to let the moment stretch, he stepped forward.
“I claim the contract of my clan,” he said, the burr in his voice making it a challenge, though of course this was all formality. A show, though he didn’t know exactly why she wanted it that way.
Dirrys sat comfortably, lifted a paw and gave it far more attention than it could possibly have needed. With all the confidence of a dama who had borne three litters and raised two kitas to full hunter, she murmured lazily, “Does anyone else want it?”
The fur along his spine began to rise, but he blinked a slow smile, to settle himself and insult her back. He wanted to show her that her disinterest only made him condescending, rather than nervous. Her tail snapped once, then stilled, and she glanced around the gathered hunters.
“None that supersede my claim.” Arow made a soft noise, deep in his throat, and three of the youngest stirred as though to rub close to him, appease their elder, and defray some of the tension between the great ones. With barely a dozen hunters in the room, the leading voices of their clan, it was more noticeable than it might otherwise have been. Arow politely ignored the lapse.
Lolling back on her bench, Dirrys flicked her tail, dismissing it all.
“Good hunting then, Elder. Do be sure to clean up after yourself.”
Arow went very, very still, then tensed his claws. Sisk’s failure to scramble his genetic code would reflect on their entire clan, so the dama wouldn’t say it directly, no more than she had to him outside. Still, she’d hated him longer than anyone else in the room could remember, and could hardly resist the urge to needle him, remind him of all the possible ways he’d failed in his training of Sisk. Perhaps taunting her in their conversation outside had left her too angry to be careful, but none of the other hunters appeared to notice any deeper meaning.
He turned to go, not bothering to pull the light around his fur. There was no need to bend the visible spectrum, nor engage his quintessence to become invisible. Let them watch him. Everything from his perfectly smooth pace to the slightest crook of his tail indicated his complete dismissal of her as a threat. This was another insult, of course, but too subtle for Dirrys to mark in front of so many. Let some of the youngsters learn though; the way to respond to a dama with more grudges than sense was to maintain the calm countenance of a worthy hunter.
It ke
pt him from spitting until he reached the privacy of his ship, at least.
* * *
He pulled up the contract again, reviewing the details as his ship cycled through the launch cycle. Tarley Rensen was a Human, and was vaguely interesting, as far as Humans went. Two generations removed from a decorated mercenary who’d managed to die at home surrounded by children, though Tarley had no fighting record of his own. He had attended two Science Guild universities, hadn’t returned to Earth since he’d left, and entertained himself by offending other races and buying his way out of consequences. Until he ran into someone who couldn’t be bought; someone who contracted an assassin to ensure the little plant eater came spinning to the ground.
He also appeared to be the second Human to have killed a hunter in recent memory. Generations passed between hunters falling on a contract, and yet in a small amount of time, two different Humans had killed two hunters in different parts of the galaxy.
It hadn’t taken long to establish a connection to the ship Sisk had taken out for this contract, and it was easy enough to break into his files. There was no reason the younger hunter needed to secure his data from his own clan, and Arow spent the hours in transit to the docked ship pouring through the information Sisk had gathered. He took a moment to appreciate how carefully Sisk had prepared, which only made the end result of the hunt more mysterious.
No matter how many times Arow reviewed the contract, the assortment of records, and the notes he’d put together, he couldn’t find a single thing to account for the Human having triumphed over the hunter. Tarley was no warrior, and though he was smart enough to complete five courses of study across two universities, they weren’t the Science Guild’s best schools.
Arow flexed his claws deeply into the arms of the control chair and flicked back to known ports of call and most likely locations Tarley might have gone to ground. The target favored trading posts, like Piquaw and Sakall, and space stations more often than planets. Sisk had followed him to a suite in an unremarkable station in the Gresht region of the Tolo Arm, where his borrowed ship still docked. As far as Arow could determine from the travel records, Tarley hadn’t taken a transport to the nearest stargate. He must have, though, Arow decided, after realizing a hunter had come for him.
Rather than scroll through the information yet again, Arow pulled up a map of the arm and bet himself he could stalk Tarley back to his den within three stops.
* * *
He did it in one. Astonishingly, after somehow surviving a hunt, Tarley hadn’t left his hole in Gresht.
Not a hole so much as a suite, Arow noted as he toggled through security feeds. It was a two-floor series of rooms, far enough from the spin of the station’s center to have reliable gravity and impart none of the dizziness, with two halls of approach and secure doors. Anything could be inside, given the four registered construction plans—there’d probably been countless other internal restructurings that were off the books.
Traps and security were all likely genetically coded. His fur rose in patches, as he was excited by the challenge, but cautious about the complete mystery of what waited for him. Such was the wisdom that came from being an elder.
His only choice was stalking—lying in wait to discover more information and formulate a better plan. As a small trading hub, the station served a number of species, some in residence and more passing through. Humans were common, but not so common that Tarley could go unremarked inside. The traders kept records of deliveries to the suite, which were taken in through the upper entrance by a machine, and which had not varied since before Sisk’s arrival. Of course no security feed showed Sisk, and there were no clues other than his ship still docked below. Nothing that went into the suite was remarkable—food, cleaning materials, more food, and lab equipment.
While some of the electronic queries to traders and shops he sent were from accounts that bounced around through several false identities, Arow had no interest in disguises or talking to members of the other species in person—there were other ways to get information, which would leave no trace of a hunter behind. There had been no chatter on the station about a Depik, as the other species referred to them, and as the contract called for discretion, there were more reasons to remain invisible in every possible way than to reveal himself to make things slightly easier.
Arow considered sneaking in with the supplies, but he didn’t know how much of the inside system was automated and, therefore, it left too much unknown. That was probably how Sisk had made his way inside. Instead, he packed supplies into his bag and moved up and down the hallway outside the lower entrance, keeping tabs on the security feeds, in case Tarley changed his behavior and stepped out on the upper floor.
It was two days before Tarley left his hole, and Arow stretched as the door began its cycle. Airlock? Similar technology, at least. Two layers of locks opened, and the man stepped out.
Arow opened his mouth slightly, to better scent the target. Tarley might not have run after surviving a hunter’s attack, but to leave the safety of his quarters he had opted for a disguise—different hair, brown and shaggy, padding in the clothes to change his shape. The changes may have been enough to fool an automated search program.
The Human had no idea what kind of hunter he was dealing with, and Arow pinned his ears back in brief disgust. Smell was the key, not looks. No hunter needed a recognition system. How in the bloodthirsty night had this Human—any Human, but this Human in particular—survived Sisk?
Arow checked that line of thought; he was too old to succumb to hubris. As Tarley waited for the doors to seal, the hunter stretched once more and rose on his hind legs, secure in his invisibility as he matched his pace to that of the Human. A small whisper in his mind insisted Sisk must have scrambled, and so Arow did not need to investigate further, or wait any longer. Instead he could leap now, fast as breathing, a whisper of blade or claw just there—Humans are fragile anywhere, there were at least five killing blows in easy reach—
It was a very small whisper, and he disregarded it. It was critical to know what happened to Sisk’s body, just as it was critical to see what, if anything, made this Human dangerous. Then he could complete the contract and remove the threat.
Tarley walked quickly, head down, acknowledging none of the other creatures he passed. The station held a fair amount of Humans, though Bakulu and Cochkala dominated, unsurprising given the location of the station and its position as a minor trading hub. He moved well for a Human, aware enough of his surroundings to move around more dominant species that would never step aside no matter how narrow a hall. His pace was not fast enough to attract attention, but he was clearly focused on getting somewhere.
Arow amused himself setting odds on where Tarley was going. Food, weapons, entertainment…
Entertainment, it seemed, as the man stopped outside a brightly glowing door advertising Human-specific massages and luxuries. Vague enough, that last, and Arow considered taking the time to go back and let himself into the den while Tarley was occupied. He thought better of it, and slipped inside directly behind Tarley, lifting briefly from four legs to two in order to get a better read on the place.
It smelled right for what was advertised, though the number of Human trails muddled the air.
Tarley didn’t check in, moving past the front desk without hesitation, the scanner clicking loudly as it recognized him. This Human establishment was low end, no pretense at having a live receptionist. Arow followed, and the scanner didn’t so much as stutter, having not sensed anyone other than Tarley crossing its line.
While Arow would hardly have expected anything different, it took one small concern off the board. Of course, the Humans hadn’t developed anything that could pick up a hunter’s signature—no one had, and it seemed beyond unlikely that would change in this back corner of the universe.
No sooner had he completed the thought than he was forced to reconsider. The room that had obediently opened for Tarley just down the hall had no equipment suited for m
assage; instead, long tubes lined the walls—only the faintest of shimmers showing they weren’t empty. There was a long programming table anchoring the middle of the room. Arow followed the man inside, and he felt the hallway shift behind them after the door closed. There was far more advanced security than the grimy reception room suggested. It meant, Arow realized, Tarley had been scanned before the obvious beep at the counter, ensuring the hall spun before they entered; the beep must have been confirmation. It kept the security function of spinning the rooms within the massage suite seamlessly unnoticed, so anyone not here for a non-massage room would never know differently. The second spin, happening behind them now, meant certain clients couldn’t be followed, at least not easily.
And the room itself, which had been programmed to spin and open itself for Tarley, had the interfaces and packaging for a warehouse of nanos, some programmed and some likely wiped, a fortune of technology a bit more advanced than most Humans had access to. For what? Tarley hadn’t studied nanotechnology in his courses, and it wasn’t something one just picked up on a whim.
Arow prowled the edges of the room, taking in the scribbled writing of the labels—Human, he assumed, though it was cramped and too imperfect to be computer printed, and therefore harder to decipher—and the sheer mass of tubes securely fastened to the walls. The workmanship was flawless, and if Tarley had any part of it, Arow was going to have to be even more careful when examining the inside of the man’s den. It still seemed impossible that this Human had not only overcome Sisk, but had also kept the younger hunter from scrambling.
If there was a chance Tarley had gotten his hands on any of the hunter’s genetic material, though, Arow had to know before killing him. Though the programming table was mostly touchscreen, the matte black trim around the edges was more than wide enough for Arow to leap up and move around the length of it, keeping Tarley in sight while the man chose his tubes. This allowed Arow to see what the chosen nanos were meant to do, while keeping his energy focused on movement, rather than the temptation of ripping Tarley’s organs out one at a time.
The Good, the Bad, and the Merc: Even More Stories from the Four Horsemen Universe (The Revelations Cycle Book 8) Page 28