The Bounty Hunter (Cade Korbin Chronicles Book 1)

by Jasper T. Scott

  “Maybe a bit of both,” Aurora says. “Speaking of which, what in the galaxy did you do to him?”

  “Killed one of his goons and then rescued an honest cop who had some dirt on Mohinari.”

  “Merda. So he wants revenge.”

  I shrug. “Guess so.”

  “Well, in Rama’s case it’s similar. She took a job from him back when she was with the Syndicate. She received half up front, but then never completed the contract.”

  “Contract expired?”

  Aurora shakes her head. “No, she didn’t even try.”

  “So that’s why she isn’t with the Syndicate anymore. Broke the first precept.”

  “Esattamente.”

  I frown at her. Merda. Esattamente.

  “What?” she prompts me.

  “Italian is a dead language.”

  “Can’t be that dead if I’m using it.”

  Fair enough.

  “Okay, so Rama warrants six million because she’s dangerous as hell and she welched on a deal.”

  “And—”

  Aha. Here comes the catch.

  “We have to bring her in alive.”

  “Hmmm,” I say, pretending to consider that proviso. Of course I already know that from the job sheet I pulled up back on Adagio Station. Bringing Rama in alive does put a wrinkle in things. It’s far easier to kill a person than it is to capture them. But I guess that goes with the territory. Six million isn’t your average bounty.

  “He’s going to make her suffer,” I say.

  “Does that go against your macho sense of chivalry?”

  “Not chivalry. My code.”

  “Your code?” Aurora looks dubious. “You have a code?”

  “Yes.”

  She slaps her thigh and barks out a grating laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

  My eyes narrow a few more degrees, but I don’t say anything. She’s starting to piss me off again. Maybe this partnership was a mistake.

  “Plenty of hunters have codes.”

  “All right, let’s hear it. What’s yours?”

  “None of your business.”

  “It is if we’re going to be doing business together. Your code could be something idiotic and get me killed.”

  “Again.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Mischievous amusement lifts one side of my mouth. “Get you killed again. You’re already dead.”

  “Fuck you, Cade Korbin. Fuck you and your little xeno, too. Speaking of, where the hell is he?”

  “She needed to use the facilities.”

  “What’s she doing in there?”

  Aurora’s head is turned to the corridor behind us, as if she might be about to go take a look for herself. I’m not done with the conversation yet, and definitely not ready for Aurora to get up in my jets about the infestation I brought aboard her ship.

  “You said the target deserves what’s coming to her. Elaborate.”

  “She doesn’t have a code. She’s completed a hundred and six jobs, and her rating is almost as high as yours. You do the math.”

  “I need details.”

  “Then look them up for yourself. What do I look like to you, an encyclopedia? SGR198. That’s her.”

  The hypernet isn’t accessible from FTL space, but I synced my offline records back in Margrave. Naturally, those records include a copy of Zero & Krom’s Standard Guild Rating Index. I scroll through the numbers until I reach SGR198, then open up her records and start perusing the data.

  The one hundred and six jobs Rama has pulled run the gamut from smuggling to assassinations and abductions. The details are all pretty matter-of-fact, but more than a few of Rama’s jobs were done for notorious crime organizations, including Mohinari himself. In one such job Rama abducted a seven-year-old girl for Mohinari in order to ransom her back to her parents. In the end, Rama returned her alive, but not entirely in one piece.

  “See what I mean?” Aurora asks.

  “Yes, but the ratings are anonymous. How do I know this is her?”

  “Cross reference it to her dossier with the Syndicate.”

  I do that. Rama Drakos was with the Syndicate, just like Aurora said, but back then she wasn’t rated anywhere close to what she is now. Her syndicate rating was 856. SGR1242. And her membership was canceled almost two years ago. Right after failing to complete a contract for Mohinari, just like Aurora said. But the jobs from Rama’s time with the Syndicate and the ones listed for SGR198 in Zero and Krom’s anonymous index all match, so Rama and SGR198 are definitely the same person.

  “Her rating improved a lot since she left the Syndicate. Any ideas about that?” I ask.

  Aurora regards me steadily, like it’s a dumb question. “She’s only got a hundred and six jobs under her belt. Two years ago she had twelve. She’s a rising star.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “What? Still not convinced? It’s all there. Ratings are impossible to fake, don’t ask me how she got so high so fast, but she did.”

  Aurora’s right. You can’t just hack your way into the database and fiddle with the numbers, because it’s all over the place in on and offline copies that are constantly being cross-correlated and compared. If any suspicious alterations were to appear in any one copy, the whole index would get flagged as compromised.

  It did happen, once, in the history of Zero and Krom’s index—an enterprising group of freelancers hacked themselves right up to the top of the list in order to scam hundreds of clients out of exorbitant fees.

  And it worked.

  Until Zero and Krom caught up with them.

  The problem is, Zero was a legendary black hat cyber terrorist, so it didn’t take him long to find a digital trail. And Krom is to this day ranked number three on the Syndicate’s roster, so finding the hackers physically wasn’t a problem either. The only reason Krom isn’t topping out their own index is to avoid any possible accusations of bias, but if his rank were to be extrapolated from his Syndicate rating, he’d be somewhere in the top ten of all freelancers.

  Not the kind of people you want to mess with, that’s for damn sure.

  It all adds up to the same thing. Rama is just as deadly as Aurora says. And she deserves every bit of what’s coming to her. No one who abducts and hurts kids for money deserves any less themselves.

  “Any idea how we can find her?” I ask.

  “I was hoping you might have an idea,” Aurora says. “She knows she has six million creddies on her head, so she’s going to be hiding in the deepest hole in the galaxy. Finding her won’t be easy.”

  “A deadly hunter like her?” I ask, stroking my jaw as I consider the matter. “No, she won’t go to ground on some backwater. And if she does, it won’t be for long. She’d die of boredom. Someone like her lives for the hunt, and I don’t mean hunting xenos on some world that’s a class five on the hazard scale.

  “No, Rama will get herself the best fake identity that money can buy, and then she’ll use it to start all over, working her way back up the roster from the bottom.”

  “I didn’t think of that.”

  “It’s what I would do.”

  “To get the five hundred thousand off your head?”

  I don’t answer that. I’m not worried about the contract Mohinari put on me. I’ll pry his neuralink out with a rusty knife after I kill him. Then I’ll cancel the contract myself and go to his ex-wife Rina for the other half of my fee.

  “You don’t need to sleep.”

  “Duh. I’m a bot.”

  “Let me finish.”

  Orange eyes turn flinty.

  “I was going to say that because you don’t need to sleep, you can get started tracking Rama down. Look for new members rising the ranks suspiciously fast from the bottom of the index. Find the ones who are rising the fastest. That should help us narrow down the list of possible identities.”

  “And what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to get some sleep. Where am I supposed to be bunking?”

&n
bsp; A sardonic grin touches Aurora’s lips. “With Violet. Straight down from the cockpit, past the ramp, go down the left fork of the fuselage. First door on the left.”

  “Got it. Good luck with your research.”

  Aurora snorts at me as I stand up and start down the corridor from the cockpit. I pass the head on my way, and peek in to see how Bry is doing. She’s sitting inside the toilet now. Nothing but a tuft of white fur sticking out. She’s busy keeping her eggs warm, and doesn’t seem too anxious about food. Maybe it can wait. I guess that sugar water from Margrave is still doing its job.

  But just in case, I leave the door open so she can go foraging for herself. This is a Type-9, so the mess hall should be just down that ramp we came up from the cargo bay. Shouldn’t be too hard for Bry to find.

  Failing that, she can go beg Aurora for food. She might just distract Aurora long enough to give me a chance to do my own research.

  Chapter 34

  I glance around the corridor to the lower decks, checking for signs of the ship’s internal security system. A camera watches the main access corridor; it’s a glossy black dome with a 360-degree view.

  Moving on, I reach the Y-shaped fork and take the left corridor, just as Aurora indicated.

  Another camera monitors this corridor. I open the first door on the left, revealing a darkened room with two double bunks, a sink, and a toilet inside a boxy cubicle. No shower, but at least we have an alternate set of facilities, so Bry can keep her nest.

  Violet is fast asleep on the bottom right bunk. That leaves the bottom left one for me. Stepping through the open door, I take a moment to look around, as if taking in the no-frills decor of the cramped quarters. What I’m actually doing is checking for another camera. There it is, just above the door.

  Accessing the door controls, I trigger it shut behind me and lock it for good measure. Then I unsling my pack, dig around inside, and remove a door jacker. Using my holoband to scan for the door’s circuitry, I find the right place to put the jacker. Within seconds, I’m the only one who can control this door. It won’t keep Aurora out for long if she really wanted to get in here while I’m asleep, but at least I’ll hear her coming. She won’t be able to sneak in and surprise me.

  I glance up and salute the camera above the door. Aurora is probably watching—I would be, with a relative stranger aboard my ship for the first time.

  Which is why I’m not going to do anything tonight. It’s too soon.

  Heading over to the bottom left bunk, I set my go-bag down, find a storage compartment beneath a hatch in the deck, and stuff the bag in there along with my gunbelt. Taking off my boots and mag-clamping them to the deck, I crawl in under the covers, take off my holoband, and fold it up under the pillow.

  Heavy eyelids start sinking shut. Across the aisle between the bunks I see Violet struggling in her sleep and mumbling muffled cries. Curiosity follows me down into the murky depths of my consciousness: what kind of trauma is she reliving?

  If she’s smart, she’ll visit a behavioral clinic when she gets home and scrub those toxic memories away for good.

  * * *

  My eyes crack open to find Violet awake and staring at me from the opposite bunk.

  “Hey,” she says quietly. “You looked like you were having a bad dream.”

  I grab the holoband from beside my pillow, unfold it and put it on my head. The time is 12:22 IST. According to my neuralink I was asleep for exactly six hours and forty-five minutes. Good enough. I sit up and narrowly avoid clanging my head against the frame of the bunk above mine. Sitting hunched on the edge of my bunk, I press the heels of my palms into my eyes.

  “Not a morning person?” Violet asks.

  I shake my head and open the compartment in the deck to get out my gunbelt and the attached energy shield. Clipping it on, I direct my attention to my mag boots next.

  “Thank you.”

  I look at Violet.

  “I don’t think I’ve said that yet,” she adds. “Thank you for getting me out of there.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I still don’t understand why you did it.”

  I glance at her as I stand up, arching my back in reverse and clasping my arms behind me to stretch out the aches and knots. Vertebrae pop. How many times do I have to give Violet the same answer before she believes me?

  “You must live with a lot of guilt,” she says, still fishing.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because you’re compensating. It’s the only explanation I can come up with.”

  “Maybe my mother was a working girl.”

  Violet arches an eyebrow at me. “Was she?”

  “No.”

  “Then we’re back to guilt. You’re a bounty hunter. Why kill people for a living if you have a conscience?”

  I regard her steadily. “What makes you think I’m a bounty hunter?”

  Aurora shrugs. “I’ve seen my share of your type before. In my business, it pays to know people.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “So? What’s your story?”

  “What do you care?” I counter.

  “I’m bored. You’re interesting.”

  My only reply is a snort. I grab my bag from the storage compartment at my feet and shut the hatch. Turning away from Violet, I start toward the door that I jacked last night.

  “It won’t open,” Violet says. “That bot locked us in.”

  Rather than explain who’s really to blame for that, I wave the door open.

  “It was you?”

  I hear feet padding softly behind me as she hurries to catch up. She pulls alongside me as I’m walking down the corridor outside the bunk room. She’s wearing a clinging gray jumpsuit with three-quarter sleeves and matching gray socks. She must have found those clothes in our room before climbing into bed. It’s a lot less revealing than her working uniform, even with the trench coat I gave her. But it’s still far too provocative, so I keep my eyes front out of respect for whatever decent civilian life she’s going back to.

  We follow the curve of the corridor back toward the cockpit. I stop at the head to check in on Bry, but she’s not there. Walking in, I check inside the toilet. Also empty. Curious... where did the eggs go?

  Aurora better not have flushed them.

  “What’s wrong?” Violet asks.

  “Bry. She’s not here.”

  “Your pet?”

  “Yeah.”

  Leaving the bathroom, we walk down the ramp together and I guide Violet past the cargo bay to the mess hall. Before we even get there, I can hear the ruckus on the other side of the doors—cutlery crashing, metal bins clanging, and fifty high-pitched voices all chirring and chirping at the same time. Poor Bry.

  I hesitate before opening the door.

  “What’s that sound?” Violet asks.

  I glance at her. Then back to the mess hall. Aurora must have sealed them in here. Clanging footsteps echo from the direction of the ramp, drawing my eyes to the red-haired bounty hunter in question.

  “I wouldn’t open that if I were you.”

  “You found them.”

  Glowing orange eyes turn to slits. “You could have warned me.”

  “And miss the look on your face?”

  A crashing boom thunders from the other side of the doors.

  “Repairs and restocking are coming out of your share of the bounty.”

  “Fair enough,” I say. “You have coffee?”

  “Used to. Not sure if it survived the xenado. You sure you want to risk it?”

  “No choice.”

  “Good luck.” Aurora steps back and leans against the wall opposite the doors. I can’t help noticing that one hand is resting on her sidearm.

  I suck in a deep breath and mentally trigger the doors open. Fifty tiny fluffballs all stop chirping and chirring in the same moment. They’re all sitting on a stainless steel table, bouncing up and down like they’re made of rubber, while their mother feeds them, one at a time, w
ith that long, sticky black tongue. I watch with morbid fascination as she squirts greenish goop over each of them, sticking them to the counter and silencing their frenzied chirping. But almost as fast as she’s doing that, green-tinted fluff balls are coming unglued from the counter top, bouncing up and down and chirping for more.

  Noxious smells are wafting out of the mess hall, killing my appetite. That foul-smelling saliva Bry smeared me with last night wasn’t saliva at all. It was some kind of alien milk.

  Shit.

  Of all the pets I could have owned...

  In the midst of a literal feeding frenzy, Bry looks to me with those big blue eyes, and I could swear that her gaze is pleading.

  If she thinks I’m babysitting, she’s got another thing coming.

  Aurora catches my eye with a smirk, and I notice Violet backing away with a look of revulsion on her face. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  Can’t really say I am either, but I need to keep my strength up. Especially since I don’t know if I can trust Aurora yet. Drawing in a deep breath, I run through the door. Halfway through collecting dry rations and filling sealed flasks with water and coffee from the beverage dispenser, I have to suck in another breath.

  And almost pass out from the smell.

  Bry jumps off the table and comes waddling over to me.

  Her brood of fifty greenish, goop-stained fluff balls comes hopping after her, flowing down the side of the table like a waterfall, and bringing with them a pungent stench.

  Bry gives an urgent chirp, jumps up, and clutches my thigh like it’s the trunk of a tree and her offspring are a tsunami come to sweep her away.

  I try to shake her off, but she’s clinging on for dear life.

  Feeling my lungs burning for air, I go hobbling toward the open doors to the sterile gray corridor outside the mess hall.

  Violet and Aurora are nowhere to be seen. The fluff balls are hot on my tail, hopping as fast as they can. Thankfully, their size makes them pretty slow, so I have the advantage.

  I stumble out and mentally trigger the doors shut, then suck in a gasping breath and lean hard on the bulkhead. Violet and Aurora are watching smilingly from the ramp to the upper deck.