Date Point: 9y BV
Personal log,
It has been slightly over half a ricatos (1 month) since the Redemption was boarded and one of its crewmembers killed. Having only recently been introduced to the Vzk’tk upon this ship, I did not have the time to develop any attachment to the deceased Xkkrk aside from the observation that she appeared to be a capable mother and trader. I, however, am the only being aboard this vessel that remains largely unaffected by her death.
The majority of the crew is serious at best and morose at worst. They go about their tasks in an efficient and mechanical fashion, seldom conversing with each other on any subject that does not pertain to work. Leisure periods no longer contain the activities they once did. Warrens games amongst the mature crewmembers or Catch-me games amongst the children have all but ceased, and when either are played, they are subdued, quiet affairs. Yet those changes are temporary, I hope, and will with time return to what they once were. Unfortunately, my hope only holds for the crew.
By far those most affected by the recent death have been the deceased’s mate and child, and Human. The child’s condition pains me the most. He has stopped. That statement may not make sense at first, but I assure you, in every way it is true. He has not merely stopped behaving as he once did; he has stopped doing anything. It is not that he refuses to continue in his previous lifestyle; it is that he merely doesn’t seem to care. He is not difficult to move. Simply taking him by the hand is enough to lead him anywhere, and placing food in front of him will cause him to eat – thankfully on his own – but without prompting he would stare at the wall until starvation killed him. As cruel as it may sound, I would prefer it if he mourned his mother’s death rather than be in this shambling semblance of life. It would be far more understandable and less . . . unsettling. But while the child’s condition is unnerving, the mate and Human’s daily countenances are, in a word, terrifying.
Both are angry, to put it mildly. The mate, already possessed of a quick temper, now lashes out given the slightest provocation. He can hardly go a conversation without yelling, and his tone never strays far from aggressive. His mere presence in a room is enough to stifle all idle chatter, and I would not be surprised if several of the crew would rather handle emergencies on their own rather than inform their captain. He is driven to exact revenge upon his mate’s killer, yet is not intelligent to do so on his own, which only adds to his frustration. His anger, though, I can understand. It is the anger I am accustomed to, and had you asked me a mere ricatos (2 months) ago, I would have told you it was the only way in which anger was expressed.
Human, however, has opened my eyes to a different expression of anger, or rather, a different expression of hatred. Hatred as I have known it has always been a loud affair of enraged outbursts, heated looks, threatening gestures, and shouts of victory or despair when all is done. Human’s hatred is quiet, and much, much worse. Though silent, his predatory gaze burns with a fire I can almost feel when he looks at me. He makes no obvious shows of aggression, yet his very posture speaks of retribution. I suspect that when his vengeance is through, it too will be a quiet, terrible event. In one of my more courageous moments, I brought these observations to his attention. In response he introduced me to another new and horrendous word: “loathing”. I sometimes wish he did not have a translator.
Another shocking change in human is his focus. I had dismissed him as a whimsical, though powerful being. Easily distracted and easily diverted; incapable of long-term commitment. I was a fool. His every effort – and I have no doubt his every thought – is directed at the singular task of vengeance. Were there any other option, I’m sure he would have taken this ship from its Vzk’tk crew, cramming them into the Phantom and pursuing Xkkrk’s murderer on his own. As it is, the Phantom was stolen by the other Human, who blasted a hole in Cargo Bay 9 so as to escape. The fact that had it not been stolen I believe Human would take the cargo ship is what worries me.
Most frightening of all, however, is that I cannot pinpoint what about him has actually changed so that he now feels so different to me; perhaps a slightly lower dip of the head, or slope of the shoulders? He rarely speaks, yet when he does, it is in a still, carrying murmur that sets my every instinct into a frenzy, screaming that I must run and hide. He no longer bares his teeth in the “smile” that so often graced his features nor emits that barking laugh – except in bitterness. Before I would have given fervent thanks for such things to stop, as they put me on edge, but now I know that without these mannerisms, he is far more chilling. There are many things he no longer does, while he has taken up several new actives which greatly worry me.
As soon as he could move he started fiddling with the ship’s medical scanner. I cannot even begin to understand the reason, as the scanner could only show him that his leg is broken, not do anything about it, but he is quite persistent. What he hoped to be able to understand of the readout without a thorough medical background also leaves me without answers. His movements are hampered by his broken leg, but the medical gel holding the bone set allows him a limping mobility, if with some considerable pain only somewhat dulled by the gel’s anesthetic properties. Despite this he has begun exercising by increasing the gravity in a cargo bay to that of his home worlds. Once again his leg presents an obstacle, but he works around it as much as possible. Most recently he has also taken to twirling a metal pipe in a continuous circuit while holding it at different angles and heights. When asked, he said something about a “twin-blade” and “marching-band”, but I was so busy trying to ensure I would not be hit by one of the viciously twirling ends of the heavy pipe that I failed to listen properly.
Human is now, effectively, the captain of this ship. He rarely give orders – although the few he does are followed as quickly if not more so than if Tnnxz had given them – but he is the mind behind every command. Tnnzx no longer even pretends he is following a trade route. He seeks revenge and sees Human as his way of getting it, which is why were are currently on course to a Category 10 Medical Research Station for reasons yet undivulged. If there is someone there Human wishes to make use of, I can only hope – for their sake – that they fully cooperate.
Date Point: 8y 11m 2w BV
Category 10 Medical Research Facility
Dr. “Dick” Triv was content. He wouldn’t dare go so far as to say “happy” – he couldn’t remember the last time that word had described his feelings – but he was most certainly content. This past cycle – and even a little bit beyond that – had been exhausting. First there had been the Vzk’tk crew with the Robalin incident in the middle of it, and then his research had been interrupted again so he could serve as an extremely overqualified translator, of all things. That was behind him now, and the researchers under him were settling back into their routine. Perhaps the change of problems had been good for them – a small break, as it were.
Because of his contented state, he greeted Dr. Qttvrr’xxkxtvn with something approaching a cheerful salutation as the Rrrrtktktkp’ch entered his spacious office. “A ship just dropped out of FTL and is requesting permission to dock. It’s the same ship that those Vzk’tk from a while back were using, and life signs show the same ones we treated, the Human, and a Ruibal.” Even before he had finished speaking Dr. Triv was on his feet shouting “Deny them docking permission! Deny them!”
Startled by his outburst, Dr. Qttvrr’xxkxtvn backed away from the shouting Corti. “They also say they have wounded. Their message assured me that there were no pathological threats on board, and that they merely required medical assistance their ship is unequipped to handle. It wouldn’t be much of a problem.”
Despite the Rrrrtktktkp’ch’s assurances, Dr. Triv’s blood was still boiling. He never wanted that human within a lightyear of him, let alone on his own station. “Not much of a problem!” he shouted, “Not much of a problem? There’s a human on board that ship! Humans always make things into ‘much of a problem’.”
“Don’t be absurd. Last time that ship was here they gave us valuable insight into a deathworld species. I’m almost excited to be able to have another look at the human, especially since he’s no longer a walking bio-hazard. The only reason he tried to kill you before was because he didn’t have a translator and thought you were going to stick him with a rotgut syringe. That’d make anyone jumpy. His version of ‘jumpy’ is just a little more . . . extreme. You’ll be fine. You can hide here in your office if you want. I already gave them permission anyway, I was just informing you.”
“You already gave them permission!?” Triv spat, “I’m the lead researcher here. I give the orders.”
“Actually,” Qttvrr’xxkxtvn countered in that maddeningly calm voice Rrrrtktktkp’ch used when explaining anything, “You’re not in charge of operations. You delegated that position to me several cycles ago, saying it was too much of a bother being informed every time a conduit shorted or a micro-fracture was detected. By extension, that means I decide who can dock and who can’t, and I decide that they have permission.”
Turning with a grace no one would expect a hexapedal being to possess, the Rrrrtktktkp’ch left Dr. Triv to stand – quivering with fear and anger – in his office. What galled the Corti even more was that Qttvrr’xxkxtvn had given him a suggestion he fully intended to follow. He was going to stay right here in his office until that ship had been gone for more than a ric (30 minutes). He and the Human had last parted on less than amicable terms, so there was no reason for the brute to seek him out, right?
Several ri (minutes) after Qttvrr’xxkxtvn’s departure, a commotion drew Triv’s attention from himself to outside his window. The station’s central room was a wide, open expanse with a high ceiling. The floor of the room held a large assortment of equipment, and served as a general research area where anyone could use whatever piece of equipment necessary for their respective projects. All along the walls were labs dedicated to a specific field of research and housing more specialized instruments. The high ceiling allowed there to be several floors of wall-labs, accessed through a mag-lift system and walkways ribbing the station interior. Triv’s office was on the fourth and uppermost floor, which gave him the perfect vantage point to see the human push past a breathless and flustered Qttvrr’xxkxtvn, walk quickly over to the mag-lift, and start it on its upward way with his eyes locked on the front door of the Corti’s office.
Triv knew he was dead. There was no question in his mind what the look in the human’s eyes heralded, or the carnivorous stalk in the creature’s steps. He entertained the thought of locking the door for a mere moment before the sheer absurdity of such flimsy thing as his office door being able to hold back the human’s rage occurred to him. Still, Triv did not want to die, but there was no way out of it. The fool Rrrrtktktkp’ch had let it in and it was here to do what it had set out to finish what it had started on the day they met.
Despite his resignation, the Corti still cowered back in his chair when the human entered his office, death incarnate. Closing his eyes, Triv hoped that the monster’s rage would make his end a quick one. He hated pain. Neither death nor pain came. Instead, the human spoke to him in a low growl that cut through his fear like a dagger, chilling him to the bone.
“I need you to replace my leg.”
The odd request and the lack of accompanying agony surprised the Corti so much that the human’s words failed to make any sense.
“Wait . . . excuse me?” He asked, not bothering to suppress the quiver in his voice.
“My leg,” it repeated, loud and impatient, “It’s broken and I don’t have the time to let it heal properly. You’re going to amputate it and attach a prosthetic. I’ve seen what the best out there can do, so I’ll know if you give me something less.”
Triv’s mind sliced through the haze of red fear that had all but incapacitated it, and he noticed for the first time that the human’s left leg was coated in a medical gel Corti scientists had developed nearly a century ago for use in the battlefields. Not only did it hold whatever it encased in the shape it had been before the gel had been applied, the gel also dulled any pain receptors it touched. Triv doubted the human would be able to walk had the gel not somewhat lessened the pain. As it was, it appeared that whoever had set the bone before applying the gel had done a poor job of it. If the human’s leg ever healed, it would never be the same again.
His newly liberated mind also presented a counter argument to the human’s request. “And once I’m done fixing your leg you will kill me. I’m going to die anyway, why should I help you? And don’t pretend like you don’t want to kill me as much as I’d like to end your miserable life. Besides, why trust me to perform such an operation?”
The human smiled, but this was no expression of warmth or happiness. Yes, smiles meant as much to humans, and his translator would have informed him accordingly of the warmth it conveyed had any such warmth been present. The Corti researcher didn’t need his translator to tell him this smile was different. This was unmistakably an act meant to bare the teeth in a threatening manner. Everything from the tilt of his head to the glint in his eyes bespoke of a blood thirst even a Hunter would envy, and sent the Corti cowering back against his chair.
“Why do I trust you? Because I understand you. You’re self-centered, callous, and will do anything to preserve your life and, more importantly, your pride. You’re also smart enough to know that you wouldn’t survive an attempt to cross me. As such, you’re the one I trust the most to do something like this. You just need proper motivation.”
Triv cut in the moment the human paused for breath, “You don’t understand me as much as you say if you believe the threat of death will be a sufficient motivator, at least when it comes to someone who has reason to see me dead regardless. You haven’t answered my other question. Why would I help you when you’ll just kill me afterwards?”
The deathworlder in front of him laughed. Not the happy, light, barking laugh he had heard the human use before. It was a slow, heavy, bitter croak of a laugh that only served to darken an already depraved conversation. “You didn’t let me finish,” the human continued, “I know my threatening to kill you won’t work as a motivation. That’s why, if you fail me, I won’t kill you. I’ve been looking into the Corti past lately, trying to find something I could use. I learned all about your eugenics program and ‘expanded intelligence’. I also learned how you did it. It was pretty simple, compared to what I thought you guys would come up with. I don’t pretend to know the minutia, but from what I could figure, you just crammed a new lobe into your already oversized heads and made it the control center over your previous, inferior parietal lobe.”
Triv stirred nervously. He didn’t mind hearing about his people’s past – they’d done the right thing as far as he was concerned – but if there was one person he wished didn’t know it was the human. He remained silent, though, as the monologue continued.
“There was quite a bit more, but I didn’t bother reading it, because something Manny once told me gave me an idea. He told me how he heard of a guy in the war who’d had part of his brain blown away by a grazing kinetic pulse. A medic had been right next to him when it happened though, and nothing strictly vital had been lost, so the guy survived. Still, he wasn’t really there when he came to; he just kind of shouted unintelligible gibberish while drooling, but it got me thinking.”
Triv suspected where the abomination was going with his speech, and he hoped fervently that he was wrong. As the human spoke, its smile widened menacingly.
“I looked up the basic cranial biology of a Corti – you wouldn’t believe how hard a medical scanner is to figure out on your own – but from what I can tell, a well-placed cut from a fusion blade could all but remove that special, added lobe. A quick cut, some of that miracle foam you guys use to instantly seal a wound, and there’s a small chance you’ll live. I’m no expert, so there’s every chance you’ll die, but take a moment to imagine what would happen if you didn’t. You still have your old, inferior control center – the eugenicists saw no reason to remove it – but it’s woefully inferior to what even the meanest Corti child has in the way of brainpower. You wouldn’t be dead, you wouldn’t even be unaware. You’d live your full life as the freak Corti. Stunted, misshapen, dull. Your colleagues would laugh openly in your face, and you’d stand there, struggling for a comeback, knowing there is none. The connections once made so easily, permanently beyond your grasp. Has your science advanced so far that you could fix something like that? Probably. Is there anyone in your life willing to go through the effort to fix you? Whenever I see Corti, there are usually two or three about. Not you, though. You’re the only Corti on this base. Why is that? Why is that, Dick?”
Triv caught his reflection in the window to see his ghostly white twin stare back at him, mirroring the horror that contorted his face. The human was right. Most likely the shock alone from such a trauma would kill him, but there was a slight chance he would survive. He had stepped on more toes than had been strictly required in his ascension to the position he currently enjoyed. The human didn’t have all of it, but he had the gist. While there were a few people Triv could have manipulated or bribed into fixing such a humiliating wound, there were significantly more who would go out of their way to make sure he never reached those precious few. So the choice became: was he willing to risk the slight chance he would survive? He knew the answer in a heartbeat.
Keying the stations internal communications, he contacted Dr. Qttvrr’xxkxtvn. “Doctor, I need you to prepare main surgery. Also, use the data we have from the human’s last visit and fabricate a prosthetic for his left ambulatory appendage.” He stood, but the human began talking again.
“While you’re at it, I need you to make something else for me. Your fabrication mill, it’s able to make anything you tell it, right?” He still spoke in that toneless, rumbling growl.
“Yes, so long as it has the necessary materials. This being a medical facility, we don’t carry everything.” the human had secured his loyalty – for a time – but that didn’t mean Triv was going to pass up an opportunity to be rude to the being that had threatened him.
“Do you have the material that makes up the blade portion of a fusion sword?”
“The medical grade variation for certain cybernetic implants, yes.”
“I need you to print out one of these made entirely out of that material.” Triv took the data pad that was handed to him and his eyes bulged.
“You can’t be serious. A twin-blade? You want us to make a working fusion twin-blade for you with the medical grade variation of this material? And not only the blades, but the shaft as well?!” the Corti was shouting, and quickly regretted it as the human’s expression darkened perceptibly.
“Will that be a problem?” he whispered. Triv wished he had yelled. The whisper reminded Triv of a being’s final breath, and he physically shivered as if cold.
“No. Not at all. It’s just that that much raw material could have made several hundred thousand cybernetic implants. The highly refined medical version of this material is extremely expensive, and won’t be replaced quickly.” The cold fire in the human’s eyes still raged.
“Will that affect the blades performance?” came the deathly whisper.
“No!” the Corti almost fell over himself to reassure his interrogator. Perhaps he should remain civil. “Well, not in a bad way. It’ll be able to sustain a significantly hotter plasma edge than a normal one, and the blade itself will be significantly lighter while being just as strong, but it’s such a waste!” the researcher looked once again into the human’s eyes. “But you don’t care, do you?”
“Correct. When will it be done?” at least he had finally stopped speaking in that horrible undertone.
“It’ll be finished before you are. Is there anything else before we go down to main surgery?”
“Not that you need worry about. Your guys are already fixing a ruined combat harness. Let’s get this over with.”
That’s all the Corti doctor wanted at the moment. “Yes, let’s.”
As they descended in the mag-lift together, Triv decided it was best to tell the human everything in advance, even something so trivial as what he had just considered. “Not that it will affect anything, but the medical grade of this material is a reflective black, and as such, so will this blade be. Does that matter?” Triv could have sworn one side of the human’s mouth twitched upwards.
“Not in the slightest.”
Dear Journal,
4 weeks, 2 days
The surgery was successful. In fact, everything went exactly to plan at the Cat. 10 Medical facility, so I guess it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Still, by the time I took the Redemption out of dock I was more than anxious to get on with the manhunt. Unfortunately, finding the Mutant without any clues as to where he had gone was far from simple, which was only compounded upon by the fact that I had to try to explain that to Severus.
“But how are we going to find him?” He asked for the tenth time. With a growl I gave up on trying to focus on the data pad in my hand.
More so that he would stow it than because I thought he needed an answer, I looked at him from my seat in the captain’s chair.
“Through luck and a little thought, which is something you might want to try out one of these days.” I snapped. I’d been doing that a lot lately, though it wouldn’t have been necessary if everyone hadn’t been constantly getting in the way. “Think. The Mutant’s trying to find something to do with himself. He’s taken his revenge as he sees it, and the only way he’ll see me again is if I find him, so how’s he going to occupy his time? He’s not going to be content to just sit on a rock out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, at least I have to hope not, because if he is then there’s no chance in hell I’ll find him. The Galaxy’s just too big. So if he’s not just going to go into hiding, then he’ll probably go back to fighting; that’s all he’s good for now. But the Celzi won’t take him back, he’s a deserter, and I’d love to see the fallout if he got in a Dominion recruitment line, so where’s he going to go that still gives him an outlet for violence?”
I waited. Surely I’d outlined my plan enough already that the blue-giraffe would get it.
After several long moments I gave up with another growl, “Piracy or bounty-hunting you fucking idiot.”
“But you’re making so many assumptions!” Severus protested. “How do you know he still has the urge for violence? You said his revenge was through, so wouldn’t he go back to what he was before?
I laughed. I laughed for longer than I could remember doing so for a long time. Still chuckling I looked Severus in the eye, “Do you really think that’s how vengeance works? Do you believe he just gave up his hate the moment he was done? He turned himself into a monster for his vengeance, what do you think he held in reserve? He gave up his soul to have a shot at me. Now all he has is what he’s done to himself and his anger. He’s not going to retire into a peaceful life. He’s going to do what he’s now built for.”
“But maybe he’ll join a corporate security force, or even an armed escort service!”
“If he thought any kind of established authority was worth it he wouldn’t have taken the route of personal revenge.” I retorted.
Severus was starting to look exasperated, “Fine then. Assume you’re right and he’ll either become a pirate or a bounty-hunter. You still don’t know how to find him. I know which shipping lanes have been known to have piracy problems, but only on routes I use, which is only a fraction of how many there are. And as far as bounty-hunting is concerned I don’t know the first thing when it would come to finding out who has a price on their head, and I doubt you know much more than I, so what do your grand assumptions mean when it comes to actually doing something?”
I smiled. For some reason Severus shivered, though I’d never gotten the impression he thought the ship’s environment cold. “You’re right in saying I don’t know anything when it comes to bounty-hunting, and as that’s the first line of work we’ll be checking my lack of knowledge would normally be a problem. Thankfully, I’ve already solved it. Before I went under for surgery I asked Manny to get Dick to give us some names. That Corti may not know the first thing when it comes to bounty-hunting, but I’m sure some Corti out there does. Even if Dick has a shortage of friends, I’m willing to bet he knows someone less than reputable I could talk to. If Dick doesn’t particularly like the person, so much the better, he’d be more willing to point me in their direction.”
“And he gave you names of people you should talk to?”
I held up the data pad I’d been reading before the interruption, “As well as last known locations and short descriptions, on the condition that I didn’t tell these people he sent me. From the sound of it, Dick would be overjoyed if I killed these ‘acquaintances’ in the course of conversation, but I see no reason to do him a favor.”
A resigned sigh escaped Severus’ lips, “Then where is it we are headed, if I may ask?”
I turned back to my reading, “A planet with the name of Perfection.”
Date point: 8y 11m 1w BV
Redemption, in orbit above Class 3 planet Perfection
“I’m not going with you.” Severus stated, as though this were the first time. I never understood why he felt the need to repeat statements that hardly needed to be said aloud let alone multiple times.
“Obviously. I didn’t ask you to come, and had you wanted to I wouldn’t let you. You’d fuck the whole thing up.”
“I don’t see how you’ll avoid doing that even without my help.” The ex-captain shot back with something approaching his usual temper, “You’ve already lied to this individual concerning your available funds in order to secure an appointment, why do you think they won’t kill you the moment they see you can’t pay?”
“I’ll be persuasive.” Not waiting for a response, I got into the newly acquired landing craft, letting the ramp close behind me. Perfection was a thriving commercial and industrial hub, which had made it easy for Severus to unload his cargo for reasonable prices and use the money as well as some he had saved up to buy a small shuttle and several other items. Nothing fancy, but necessary, since it wasn’t as if I could have taken the entire cargo ship down into the crowded system capital city of Idyll. Not for the first time I wished I still had the Phantom. P2 would have to wait, though.
As opposed to Severus’ company as I was, I wouldn’t have minded Manny’s help. He was useful in a tight spot. Manny had declined my offer, saying he hadn’t been feeling well. Now that I thought about it, Manny seemed to be avoiding me. Oh, he did what I asked, but whereas before he had been like my shadow, now he seemed to always find a reason to be in a different room from me. Considering how being near me always tended to get him hurt, I guess I couldn’t really blame him, but if I was really starting to lose him then that set my plans back a little bit. I’d been counting on his help when I next confronted the Mutant. I’d see him either way, with or without Manny’s help.
Putting thoughts of my orange companion out of my mind, I focused on flying for a while. According to the short description Dick’s notes had provided, this Vakno was my best shot at finding out what I wanted to know, but she was intolerant of tardiness, to the point that if I was a few minute late I might as well not bother showing up. Considering my dishonesty concerning how much I could pay for information, I figured our meeting would become hostile at some point, so I saw no reason to antagonize my host any more than I was already planning to.
Arriving several minutes early gave me enough time to prepare the other items Severus had purchased along with the shuttle. The clients who called upon this particular Corti had a reputation for coming and going anonymously, according to Dick’s notes, so I saw no reason to break the mold. Donning a thick, black cloak that was for something several feet taller than me – at least it had the right number of arms – and activating a personal privacy field, I swept from my shuttle, attempting to appear more confident than I felt. Exactly one minute before my appointment, a figure similarly cloaked and hidden emerged from the doorway I had been instructed to enter. Deciding to be punctual to the point of pedanticism, I waited another forty-five seconds before allowing myself in.
Through the door and down a short flight of stairs, I found myself in an ascetically furnished office boasting one desk with a small computer terminal on top and a single Corti sitting behind it, hands folded. A small smile touched her lips as I entered the room. “Punctuality is always a welcome trait in a new client.”
Not knowing what else to do, I sent the information from my translator implant to her computer. It had required a separate lesson from Manny to learn how to do that, and according to him I would have needed a separate cybernetic piece for data transfer if my translator had been anything other than one of the Corti high-end models. “I need the location of this being,” I said the moment she received the transfer of the Mutant’s picture, my tone level, “or failing that, a list of beings with a price on their head, and the reason it was put there.”
She leaned back into her chair, relaxed, “Usually, after I greet them, my clients – especially new ones – remove their privacy fields and exchange a perfunctory amount of small talk before launching into negotiations. Normally I’m understanding of those who wish to conduct their business and leave, but one formality I refuse to forgo is knowing your identity. You know mine, so it is only fair that I know yours.”
I was planning on telling her, but by the same token, I didn’t see any reason in revealing something until I saw fit, especially when I was counting on it to get me what I wanted. Since I was already lying about my funds, there was no harm in continuing. “How much would make you forget about that unnecessary formality?”
Her response was instant, “Unfortunately it is not a question of amounts, but you bring up another interesting point, mainly the state of your accounts.” My heart skipped a beat, “Perhaps you could clarify several points of confusion. The account you claimed as your own, while sufficiently funded to warrant the investment of my time into your quandaries, belong to an affluent and political Ruibal family. What confuses me is why, which such wealth, you contacted me from a lowly Vzk’tk cargo ship? Surely you could have secured a more expedient, or at least comfortable, mode of transportation. Also, withholding communication information does not make your message utterly untraceable.” Shit.
She wasn’t done, “The same question could be asked of the shuttle in which you arrived, but I am more curious as to why an affluent Ruibal family that has so recently and loudly advocated such a – if I may be so bold – xenophobic policy in their political circles would send an obvious non-Ruibal to speak to me, since they would know I would check their accounts and see to whom they belonged.” Shit shit, Manny had warned that he didn’t know what his family had been up to lately, I’d just hoped it wouldn’t be a problem. “Even more puzzling is why the representative of an affluent Ruibal family that has fallen upon such hard times because of the aforementioned policy accepted the price of this appointment without even a moment’s hesitation, despite the fact that paying the entire sum would result in a nearly fifty percent decrease in their available funds.” Shit shit shit, “I have several more questions, but in the interest of brevity I’ll ask only two. Why, with such paltry attempts at deception, did you even bother lying, and – the reason I even let you come into my office – who gave you the number you used to contact me?”
A sound on the stairs behind me made me turn to see two xenos of species I didn’t know, both carrying heavy kinetic pulse weapons. The fact that they were carrying heavies and not anti-tanks was encouraging. It meant that I’d managed to keep one thing from Vakno. As it was, the rest of my plan was in shambles, so I decided to play my one and only card and hope for the best. I turned back to The Contact, ignoring the xenos behind me. “I just needed an appointment. I knew you’d find out eventually, although I hadn’t counted on how soon ‘eventually’ turned out to be, but I still want that information. I just don’t have money to offer you.”
“Obviously. Pray tell, what do you have to offer that could possibly be of the same value as the price of this appointment, the identity of who gave you my contact information, and payback for your insult?”
“Insult?”
“The fact that you thought your lie would hold for even a moment is an insult to my intelligence that I would very much enjoy taking out on your broken carcass,” she spat, suddenly shaking with anger, “so tell me what your offer is before I decided nothing is of equal value.”
Lowering my hood and shutting off the privacy field, I leaned closer so as to make sure she would see my face. “How about a favor from a human?”
The Contact sat silently for almost a minute, then dismissed the goons behind me with a slight gesture. “Wouldn’t have done any good anyways.” she muttered. Sliding from her seat, she walked through a door that mere moments before I had thought to be a blank stretch of wall. Through the hidden door was a room furnished far more comfortably than the study I had just left. Sitting, she gestured for me to take a seat opposite her.
She peered at me from across the room for several more minutes. I had nothing else to do but wait. Another minute passed before she spoke, “I accept, though one favor is only enough to replace the money you owe. For only one favor, I will still need the name of who gave you my contact information as well as personal recompense for your insult.”
I shook my head, “Unacceptable. Both the name and my health.”
“Then, as I believe favors are all you have to offer, I am willing to forget both the matter of the name and your insult in exchange for an additional favor each.” She smiled, “So that we are clear, when I say favor, I mean a task I can give you at any time, and you will drop whatever else you are doing to focus completely upon that task. There are no limitations or restrictions upon what tasks may or may not be assigned, and any deviation from my express orders during any task will result in my personal ire, something that, to date, no being has survived.”
I grimaced, “I’ll accept your bargain of two more favors for a total of three, but you get them only after I’ve finished my current task.”
Leaning forward, she gave me a piercing look, “And that task is . . . ?”
“Killing the being I asked you to find.”
Now it was her turn to shake her head, “I require one task fulfilled before you continue your manhunt. Then I shall give you your information. You may continue your manhunt for as long as it takes me to find another task, which could be many cycles after you’ve completed the first.”
“Or immediately after it.” I muttered. Grinning, she remained silent.
I needed the information, and had assumed I wouldn’t be able to get away with only one favor offered. As much as I despised the waste of time, this was still the fastest way of learning what I wanted. The other names Dick had given me, judging by their descriptions, would be long shots anyway, and nearly as expensive. The Contact was the only name Dick had said was both reliable and good. In the long run, this would probably be the fastest way of getting what I wanted.
Scowling, I nodded, “Fine. Give me your damned task so I can get it over with.”
Her smile was starting to grate on my nerves, “I need you to bring me a Hunter.”
Was that it? From what I’d heard about them they weren’t that much tougher than your average xeno when compared to a human. This wouldn’t be hard at-
“Alive.”
Shit.