And like that, the three had a purpose – a mission. They weren’t merely hiding and on the run. It was the last bit of medicine that Xiù needed. Ayma would never call herself an expert on humans, especially not with a sampling of one, but it seemed like humans needed purpose as much as they needed food or oxygen. The difference in Xiù was noticeable.
And on the odd occasions when she would hit a low point, when the separation from her homeworld and her people became too much and she’d retreat to the sleeping room to shed water from her eyes – “crying”, she called it… – well, Ayma had been caring for cubs for over half her life. She knew what to do.
It was no easy task they had set for themselves. `Kirk’ was by all accounts a clever member of a clever species, and with the Great Hunt on, he knew better than to announce his ports of call – both for the safety of his wards and the safety of the places granting him shelter. Likewise, the trio had no desire to call attention to him or themselves. So they had to crawl quietly in the Rrrrtktktkp’ch’s footsteps, trying to figure out where he was headed, to catch up and contact him.
They would stop at stations or colony worlds on the periphery of civilized space, making quiet inquiries, resupplying and moving on. Never did they catch up, but there were hints that something grand was in the works, some ploy or plan, and it only doubled their desire to be circumspect. They encountered no humans, although they found evidence of where they had lived – or simply survived – on the stations or planets where they had been abandoned. The general attitude they encountered from other sapients, who were only too pleased to have the humans gone, wore down on Xiù… but she didn’t give up hope.
Whenever they made a stop, if it was possible Regaari would put together a data package to be sent to Gao. While their stays would vary, they would always wait for a reply, which sometimes could take ten-days. Mother-Supreme Giymuy expressed her outrage and sympathy to Xiù for the victimization of the humans, but she was still only the leader of one clan of one world in the Dominion, and not able to change its policies so easily… not even the blatantly unjust ones.
Eventually Regaari realized that odd jobs on each of the station wouldn’t be amiss. It would stave off boredom, and offer the group a few extra credits which would fit well with their cover as a group of wandering explorers. He would offer his paws at the odd mechanical shop on the stations they visited, and Ayma found it interesting to offer her hand at accounting or consulting on behalf of restaurants. Meanwhile Xiù, who had insisted she cook for the trio, stumbled onto the idea of making and selling her food when a Vzk’tk coworker was fascinated by the midday meal Ayma brought to work one day.
It was a strange life, but Ayma found it oddly fulfilling. She’d always been a bit of an adventurer (thus her decision to volunteer as a colonist which had resulted in meeting Xiù in the first place) so the travel didn’t bother her. Meanwhile, Regaari was pleasant company, even if they weren’t in any sort of situation to make offering him a cub reasonable (she thought about it often, however).
And Xiù… well, Xiù was her clan-sister, and Sisters stood together.
Hearing voices as she and Regaari entered the yacht, she assumed that her friend was simply going through more of the data archive. It was a surprise, then, to enter the galley and find the human sitting at the dining table, still in her cloak and scarf, along with another Gaoian female. A Gaoian who had fallen on rough times, judging from her gaunt frame and matted, dirty fur.
“Shoo?”
The female in question jumped to her feet – too quickly to properly maintain the illusion of being Gaoian, but the stranger said nothing. “Oh… ah, hello, Ayma,” she said, and with the presence of the newcomer Ayma found herself extra-aware of the human’s heavy accent. “Um… This is Triymin!”
Ayma looked at the newcomer, curious. “Triymin?” The third female seemed to barely react, merely blinking. Ayma wondered if she was ill – it might explain her appearance. But where had she come from?
Xiù anticipated the question. “We… met, and she was really hungry, so I brought her back here. That’s okay, right?”
“Of course it is. But where did she come from?” She turned to look at Triymin, who was watching the two speak with a vaguely dazed expression. “Triymin? Who were you travelling with? Where are they?”
“I-” The gaunt female glanced at Xiù, almost as if waiting for permission to speak. “I… travel with no one.” Her words were strangely accented, almost childish… reminding Ayma of the cubs back on Gao or Xiù when she first started learning Gaori.
“No one? You aren`t with a Sister, or Mother? Even a male?” she asked, aghast.
“N-no,” she replied, after another glance at Xiù. She seemed to cringe, as though expecting to be struck. “I am alone.”
Ayma’s jaw was hanging open in shock. Xiù added quietly, “She was sleeping in the corridors, Ayma.”
“What! I didn’t see her! Where was this?”
“Ah… I don’t know the number. The first one on the right, and then left, and straight?”
“The corridor that goes to the marketplace and station core? Why were you there?”
Xiù ducked her head and rolled her eyes up, the human gesture for contrite embarrassment that was so similar to a Gaoian’s. “I, ah… needed some ingredients…”
“So you went alone? Shoo…” Ayma sighed.
“Nothing happened! Nobody bothered me, and I bought the stuff I needed for tomorrow’s delivery with no problem! I didn’t want to bother you while you worked-”
Regaari, who’d been quiet up to that point, interrupted. “Maybe we should sort out the situation with our guest before discussing this,” he said, eyeing Triymin, and Ayma realized he was right. By virtue of being female Triymin was inherently clan, but that didn’t mean they should spill their secrets in front of her right away.
“Of course. Triymin… where were you travelling to?”
“To?” the younger Gaoian asked, with a kind of hollow curiosity. Ayma wondered if the female was simple, or otherwise damaged mentally… it was extremely rare but not unheard of.
“She wasn’t travelling anywhere,” Xiù answered on Triymin’s behalf. “She’s been pushed from station to station. She doesn’t know how to get home and nobody’s lifted a digit to help her. Ayma, she was rescued from the Hunters.” Ayma’s eyes went wide as everything was explained. There had only ever been one sapient recovered from the Hunters, and not because they were rescued but because they were sent by the foul species.
It was Regaari who said it out loud. “You are the Gaoian female who delivered the Hunter ultimatum,” he said calmly, but he was looking Triymin over with a critical eye.
“Y-yes,” she answered, shrinking a bit from his gaze.
“The Dominion dumped her onto a station after they were done questioning her. They didn’t offer her a way to get to Gao or even help on how to do so. Then, because having a homeless Gaoian on a major station is embarrassing, they just pushed her onto a ship going in any direction and got her out of sight.” Ayma could hear the quiet fury in Xiù’s voice – the treatment of Triymin echoed the treatment of the humans stolen from Earth and left to rot on stations and planets around the galaxy.
At least, that is, until the Hunters declared their “Great Hunt” – via Triymin herself – and suddenly it became worthwhile for the human problem to be addressed… by the lazy, heartless expedient of killing them. Xiù didn’t even think about how Triymin was part of the reason she had to hide – she only saw a fellow sapient, a clan-sister even, who had been mistreated.
“You want us to take her in.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Well…” Brown eyes flickered over to the newcomer, who was watching her fate being discussed with helpless detachment. “We can’t leave her to starve on this station!”
Ayma lifted a paw. “I’m not saying we should. But we should be careful, for her sake as well as ours.”
She turned to look at Regaari. Although the male rarely told them what to do, they respected his knowledge and ability to keep them safe, and unlike many Gaoian males he didn’t simply spout what he thought the females wanted to hear. When he spoke, they both listened.
He looked at Triymin with an evaluating gaze, then turned to Xiù. “If she’s to travel with us, she’ll need to know about you,” he pointed out. “Keep in mind we don’t know when we’ll be able to visit Gao, or even a station or planet with an embassy.”
“I don’t mind that.”
He waved a paw. “Then it’d be best to determine her reaction now rather than later.” Xiù nodded her head in the human gesture of assent.
Ayma watched Triymin carefully, interested in the newcomer’s reaction as Xiù lifted lifted a hand to push back her hood. revealing the long, black hair which was bound into a bun at the base of her head. A second motion removed the scarf which masked her face and its false muzzle, leaving her strange, flat face bare for all to see.
Xiù looked at Triymin, her half-moon shaped eyes regarding the young Gaoian expectantly. Her lips curved upward in the manner that was a friendly expression among humans. Silence dominated the room. “Well?”
“Well?” Triymin repeated. She was perceptive enough to know that they were all waiting for a reaction from her, but not sure what that reaction was supposed to be.
“I don’t frighten you, do I?”
Triymin ducked her head. Stars, but the young female was timid! But if she’d been in the tender care of the Hunters for so long, it was little wonder… Ayma shivered just thinking about it. “You… did say your fur had fallen out.”
Xiù clapped her hand over her mouth just as she barked a surprised laugh. Ayma shook her head. “Shoo is a human, Triymin. She pretends to be Gaoian to avoid persecution.” Her eyes went wide, her first real reaction. “Will this be a problem?”
To her credit, she seemed to be thinking it over. “I thought a human would be bigger.” Xiù giggled, making Triymin blink at the sound that was very similar to Gaoian laughter. “I don’t mind that’s she’s human,” she answered after a moment.
“Then… we’ll need to find a bed for you.”
“She can have mine for now,” Xiù offered. “I’ll just sleep on the floor. It doesn’t bother me, and human beds are flat anyway.”
“That will do for the moment. Meanwhile, I think we’d all appreciate a day-end meal.”
“Ah, speaking of that… I think tonight’s meal should be something fairly light, just until we know Triymin can handle something more intense. I’ll make a vegetable stir-fry.”
Once Xiù had recovered from her injuries and her following depression, she’d taken over the role of ship’s cook on the yacht. Ayma had no complaints… the human was actually a talented and inventive cook, and it was very rare that she would make a meal that they didn’t like. In fact, it had been that talent that resulted in Ayma’s “employment” during their stay on the station – Xiù would make simple meals that kept well either in stasis or frozen, and Ayma would sell them to the few eateries to be found on the station. It brought in a few extra credits, which they didn’t need but it tidily avoided too much scrutiny into how they funded their travels.
Regaari himself was quite a fan of some of Xiù’s more exotic recipes… evidenced as his ears drooped almost invisibly. “But… I brought the dizi meat…” He held up a small container.
Xiù rolled her eyes. “I’ll make tacos tomorrow. Just put it in the refrigerator, it’ll keep.”
“Dizi meat?” Triymin asked worriedly.
“A species of small food animal. They breed quickly and produce a reasonable amount of meat despite their size.”
“Just don’t ask to see how it’s prepared… so messy,” Xiù added, shuddering. Then she noticed the fearful look Triymin wore. “They’re not intelligent, Triymin, don’t worry.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Regaari reluctantly put away the meat while Xiù set about chopping up the vegetables for their meal and heating the pan. Sensing that conversation with Triymin would be filled with unexpected minefields, Ayma opted to simply sit and watch Xiù work. She’d first witnessed the human wield a knife back at the commune on Gao, chopping and slicing through fruit and vegetables with a speed that a machine would be hard-pressed to match. She’d grown indifferent to it, but a quick glance at Triymin’s wide-eyed stare let her know that it was still an impressive sight.
The long, narrow table near the food storage had a number of cooking elements, and soon the vegetables were sizzling in a pan, stirred and tossed tirelessly and quickly served to the three Gaoians as they sat around the dining table in hovering chairs that had adjusted themselves to comfortable heights and shapes. Xiù carried over her own plate as well as a smaller plate of nutrition spheres. Her chair had likewise shaped itself for a Gaoian, though if one listened closely as she sat down one could hear the suspensors briefly whine – as if taken by surprise yet again by the human’s mass.
Ayma always enjoyed Xiù’s stir-fries, so she dug into her meal with relish, and Regaari did the same. Triymin followed suit after watching them quietly for a few moments… almost as if she wasn’t sure how to eat and needed it demonstrated first. Ayma kept one eye on Xiù as well – the young woman didn’t particularly enjoy her nutrition spheres, although she knew they were needed to make up for the shortfalls of alien food. The cross-species supplements tried to avoid offending any species’ sense of taste by not having flavour at all, and the doughy texture wasn’t particularly satisfying to anyone.
Xiù tried to make the spheres more palatable in a variety of ways, and Ayma wasn’t always sure when the young woman was being serious or when she was simply demonstrating her odd sense of humour. At the moment she was holding a nutrition sphere stabbed with a number of crisp ietaga shoots, making it look like a small edible satellite. Dressing the sphere up as telecommunications equipment wasn’t enough to make it tasty judging from the look on Xiù’s face as she chewed. Triymin was eating slowly, her eyes flicking among the three others… pausing as she speared each piece of food with her narrow fork as though she expected it to be taken from her, then putting it into her mouth with a kind of strange wonder that Ayma found curious.
It was Regaari who eventually broke the silence. “I’ll have to send another message to the Mother-Supreme. She’ll be angry at the way a Gaoian was treated by the Dominion and will want to demand recompense on her behalf. There’s also the fact that live beings are kept by the Hunters… it’s long been suspected but never confirmed.”
Xiù’s face paled a bit. “No one has ever been rescued from them?”
“No,” he replied grimly. “Remember, they strike and kill and are gone by the time assistance arrives. Even with recordings we didn’t know if those taken were unconscious or dead, and if they were alive, for how long. None have been rescued, none have escaped.”
“S-some have escaped,” Triymin said. She hunched down in the chair as they all turned to her. Her fork lay abandoned on her plate. “Some… some have. Others tried. It makes the Masters really, really angry. Slaves aren’t allowed to choose to escape, they say. All who witness are punished.”
Her voice shook as she spoke the last. “Triymin, did you witness an escape?” Ayma asked.
“Y-yes. The… Mother, who took care of me and the others… she helped the others escape. She tried to help me, but the Masters caught her. They… ate her slowly. They made us watch.” The Gaoian female was shaking in her seat. Beside her, Ayma made a low, miserable sound.
“I’ve never heard of any captured beings having been recovered from the Hunters,” Regaari said. “I apologize, Sister Triymin… but do you remember what happened to the others you were with? Where did they go?”
“Go?” Triymin asked, confused.
“Yes… you said the Mother helped them escape? Where did they escape to? If you can remember anything, it might help us help others.”
“They… they didn’t go anywhere. The Masters ate them… th-they don’t like to waste meat…”
“But… how could they?” Ayma asked, confused. “If she’d helped them escape…” She paused, noticing that Xiù’s face had gone oddly pale.
“Cǎn… Triymin, what does `escape’ mean to you? How did the Mother help the cubs escape?” Xiù’s voice shook oddly, and Ayma glanced at her with concern.
The younger Gaoian’s eyes were wide, as if she realize something awful was happening, but not what. ”She… put her paw on their noses,” she said quietly, lifting a paw of her own to demonstrate… covering her nose and mouth. Ayma felt horror crawl up her spine, all the way from her toes. “Then she held them until they stopped shaking.”
No. No. She met eyes with Xiù across the table, and saw her own horror reflected there.
“The other slaves had told her not to do it… they were scared of being punished. They tried to stop her, but she fought and scratched them. They called the Masters-”
No. It was impossible! And still she was speaking, and rather than the horror that should have been there, her voice actually contained wistfulness, regret, as if something wonderful had happened and she’d just missed out-
“They found us as she tried to help me, and the Masters were so angry that the other two were gone-”
“Enough!” Ayma shouted. She was on her feet though she didn’t remember standing, and her unsheathed claws scraped across the surface of the table. Regaari and Xiù stared at her in astonishment, but she didn’t notice them. Nothing existed except for the outrageous tales – the blasphemy – and the one who dared speak it. “Liar,” she hissed. “What you say is impossible!”
Triymin was hunched down as if expecting to be struck. Xiù was on her feet, and she reached out a hand to the furious Mother. “Ayma-”
“It is impossible!” she snapped. “A Mother would never do such a thing! We would never harm a cub, nor would we ever allow it to happen! We would die first! You are lying!”
“I’m sorry,” the newcomer said in a shaky voice.
She just found her timidity even more infuriating. “Stop apologizing and tell the truth! Is this why the Hunters sent you back? To spread horrible tales like this filth you spout-”
“Ayma, enough!” The entire room was shocked into silence. Ayma had never heard Xiù use that tone of voice with anyone, and never before had she been on the receiving end of a human glare. It was easy to forget that her clan-sister hailed from a world that was the deadliest to ever produce intelligent life, but for a brief moment it was visible in Xiù’s eyes, and Ayma found herself cringing much like Triymin.
Xiù seemed to realize it – her gaze and her voice softened. “She’s not lying, Ayma. Look at her… she doesn’t know how.”
Her muzzle worked without sound, her throat dry. “It’s impossible,” she rasped, unable to say anything else. The light, delicious meal they’d just finished sat like a lead ball in her stomach. How could her Sister – her friend! – defend such obvious lies?
Xiù looked at her with a mixture of sympathy and regret. “Ayma-” But the Gaoian Mother had already spun and stormed out of the galley. The chair she’d sat in was shoved out of the way, slowly gliding to bump against the wall.
She made her way to the sleeping room, the newcomer’s tale still echoing in her ears. The lights there weren’t configured to rise when someone entered so as to not wake someone who might already be sleeping, and the dimness was welcome. Regaari’s nest-bed sat nearest the door, while Xiù and Ayma had theirs nearer the viewports that looked out upon the stars while they travelled. Despite all she’d been through, Xiù loved the stars, and Ayma simply preferred to sleep near another female. At the moment, though, she wished there was more distance between the two beds. She moved over to her own and sat down on the edge, the angry energy which had carried her that far suddenly abandoning her.
She faced away from the door, but she heard it open and saw the light spill into the room. Then it closed and they were cast back into near-darkness.
It was a long moment before Xiù spoke. “Ayma, are you okay?”
Such a stupid question! She found herself growing angry again. “No. I’ve just been told a Mother – a Gaoian Mother – murdered the cubs in her care. I am not okay!”
“I’m not saying you should be. But Triymin… it isn’t her fault! She’s a victim… just like the others, Ayma.”
“Still you defend her?” she hissed. Her paws were clenched, her claws slipping their sheaths. “There’s more to it than what she says! There has to be! A Mother wouldn’t do what she said! No member of our clan would!”
“I would,” Xiù replied.
Startled, Ayma spun to stare at her. The human stared straight back, her dark eyes glittering in the meagre light visible through the viewports.
“I love Myun, you know that,” Xiù continued, her voice quiet. “But if we were caught… if we were trapped by the Hunters, and there was no hope… I’d do it. I wouldn’t let them torture her the way they torture all their food. I’d kill her because I love her.”
She couldn’t believe such words were being spoken… couldn’t believe a being she called clan would say such a thing. “It’s… it’s not the same! You’re not-…” She stumbled to a halt. She’d forgotten; Xiù was always to eager to help, so eager to learn, just like any of the cubs she’d helped raise, just like any of the Sisters she’d grown up alongside. She’d forgotten…-
Xiù knew exactly what she’d been about to say. “Go ahead, say it: I’m not Gaoian. I’m not a real Sister. After all, it’s true, isn’t it?” She turned and walked toward the door, graceful and strong and alien. “Apparently Triymin’s Mother wasn’t one, either.”
The door slid shut.
On the fifth level of the station there was a popular multi-species lounge and eatery. It was a place for mingling, for quick meals between shifts. It was the most popular spot on the station simply by virtue of its size, but other beings liked the place because it was popular… so many chattering sapients helped drown out those who spoke more quietly, discussing matters that wouldn’t be met with wide approval. Outside this eatery stood a single Corti, looking at the establishment with a mixture of disgust and trepidation.
Astim hated mingling with the common rabble… so mundane and ugly and stupid. Hated it.
It had been noted in his youth that he was antisocial, even for one of his species. Only noted – it wasn’t as if Corti society really cared, and it wasn’t as if it ever held him back. He studied alone on his ship, wandering from system to system, experiment to experiment. The social contact he avoided was never missed. Among the Corti, there were only ever really two motivations: curiosity and profit. The two were intertwined: profit supplied resources for experiments to satisfy curiosity; experiments, properly applied, would yield profit. On and on it would go. If he lacked in social graces, Astim had curiosity and greed in spades.
He’d missed out on the human rush, although that was likely for the best, considering the horrific fatality rates among crews that abducted the newfound species. The others had been blinded by rote, by the routine projects of bringing already-established cybernetics and commodities to the new species. Safe, easy credits, favoured by the foolish and careless, and they’d paid for their laziness and lack of imagination with their lives.
Astim, however, had learned from their stupidity. He’d realized how ferocious this new species was. And that was the secret to credits beyond imagination: their ferocity!
He had no use for slaves himself… slaves had to be fed, else they died or rebelled. He really didn’t have any desire to deal with the bother of obedience collars or slave implants. Droids did everything he required without sweat or stink or stupidity. Unfortunately, there was occasionally a task that needed muscle and a piece of meat to accomplish it, no matter how substandard that piece of meat was. Usually that task involved shooting something. It was always easier to send an alien to die than a valuable robot… the Celzi war was proof of that. They would always just breed more.
It was just such a requirement that had Astim standing in front of the eatery, repressing his revulsion. Squaring his shoulders, he proceeded inside.
The interior was lit in subdued yellows and blues, the lights most compatible with the widest variety of species. Most of the tables were of the standard hover-variety, adjusting themselves to the heights of their inhabitants; near the entrance was a table surrounded by a group of racious Vzk’tk, laughing and joking among themselves as they shared a large bowl of cqcq leaves. A pair were playfully shoving at one another, bumping into Astim as he passed. He glared at them but they didn’t even notice, so he hurried past, fuming.
He knew where the two sapients he wanted to speak to were likely to be, and so he hurried to the rear corner of the lounge. And thank the stars, there they were: Voyrag and Muntib. Few sapients bothered to learn the names of the pair… most simply referred to them as something that would translate to English as the “borg brothers”.
Locayl were solitary but sociable, lacking the need to be among their own kind that was trademark of the herd races like the Guvnuragnaguvendrugun, but neither as discomfited by it as Astim’s own species. The exception were twins. Among the Locayl, twin males or females were bonded for life, from their birth to their deaths, rarely leave each other’s sides. It made it very unusual to find a twin pair that had chosen life as mercenaries – eschewing the relatively peaceful nature of their species and the grand, elegant architecture of their people, all in favour of the wildness and excitement of combat. Voyrag and Muntib were just such a pair.
Their choice of profession had not been kind to them, the pair being badly injured in a bounty hunt gone wrong. A Corti fugitive, hunted by the Directorate, had left a bomb that the two had blundered into. Now both were almost more synthetic than organic, since the two relatively ordinary mercenaries had lacked the funds for a full, proper regeneration. The irony of it all was that, because of their prosthetics, their combat efficiency had improved substantially. Now the two were relatively well-known and respected in their corner of space.
Though not so successful that they’d be difficult to negotiate with. Astim knew what coin would buy their loyalty.
Voyrag looked up as Astim approached, his lone remaining dark, beady eye squinting while the electronic replacement on his left side simply glowed a soft green. Both arms on that side were likewise artificial, while one of the hands on his organic side held a tall glass of gharm. Astim could smell the bitter concoction from where he stood, and had no idea why any sapient creature would voluntarily drink it. Maybe a human would, but their odd neurology made them irrational at the best of times.
“Astim,” Voyrag greeted, not sounding pleased at all to see the comparatively tiny Corti. Beside him, Muntib blinked stupidly. The other brother still had both natural eyes, but had suffered much worse regardless… all but one of his arms were prosthetic, as were both legs like his brother’s. Three quarters of his bulbous chest was covered in polymer sheaths, compared to only about half of Voyrag’s. However, the worst of Muntib’s injury had been beyond the ability of any cybernetics – unlike his brother, who had merely lost an eye, Muntib had taken shrapnel from the bomb into his brain.
The result was what Astim saw before him: a sapient who barely knew where he was standing most of the time. He could speak, and fight… but without his twin, Muntib would likely have been institutionalized. Neural repair was possible but indescribably expensive… Astim knew that Voyrag scrimped every credit the pair of mercs earned, sinking it into a fund to pay for time in a regenerator for his brother.
“Voyrag,” Astim replied, not even bothering to acknowledge Muntib. “I’ve come to offer you a job.”
“Really, now? Then sit and have a drink, and we’ll talk.”
He took the seat the Locayl gestured toward; because the table was set at a height suitable for the two others, the hovering chair lifted him up to its level. Astim didn’t bother ordering a drink – he wouldn’t dare set his lips against any dishware offered by this establishment… as it was, he was going to be taking a scouring shower when he returned to his ship. Fortunately the merc wasn’t offended… he was well-educated in Astim’s distaste for anything organic.
Voyrag sipped his gharm and looked down at the scrawny alien. “So, you have a job. Another planetary grab? Or do you need us to deal with a competitor?”
“Not this time, although the subject is an… organic sample.”
Voyrag scowled. “So, what? A hijacking? We don’t have a grav spike generator, unless you’re planning to supply one.”
“That won’t be necessary. The subject I want is right here on this station.”
“Okay, so why do you need us? There have to be a dozen scum in this place alone who you could hire.”
Astim pressed his hands together. “They wouldn’t be able to handle this subject. The being in question is a human.”
Voyrag’s lone eye went wide, and his jaw worked silently for a moment. Then he rumbled a purring Locayl laugh. “Look at you! I’m impressed, Astim, I didn’t think you even had a sense of humour.”
“This is not a joke,” he replied, his aggravation growing.
“A human? On this station?”
“Yes! Keep your voice down!”
“If there was a human here you’d need to tell everyone to keep their voices down – because of all the screaming. I think I’d know if there was one walking around, Astim.”
“The human travels in disguise. She travels with a pair of Gaoians, docked in a berth on the lower quarter.”
“And you know this, how?”
“My sources are my own,” Astim sniffed. “Needless to say, I’ve confirmed it. A human is easy enough to detect if you know what to look for: oxygen consumption, food and water, stress on the gravity plating. I know where she is, Voyrag, and I need you to obtain her.”
The Locayl’s response was delayed as a Vzk’tk server arrived with a pair of large plates, which he set down in front of the two bulky aliens. He turned to the lone Corti, expecting an order; when Astim did nothing but stare at the delivered food, he shrugged and left. The plates each held a triangular piece of food, which looked to be bread covered in a green sauce of some sort, dotted with vegetables and then covered in shredded cheese from the Corti homeworld. The entire arrangement had been baked and cut into slices.
“What in the stars is that?” Astim demanded as Muntib happily lifted the food and bit into it, chewing with his mouth open. Voyrag was more mannered but just as eager.
“What, this? It’s the reason we come here. The owner, Th’tk’rk’ottk, calls it `pizza’. No, you can’t have any, buy your own.”
“I know what it is!”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Because it’s a human foodstuff!” Astim exploded.
“Really?” Voyrag looked surprised. He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. After swallowing, he gave the slice of pizza in his hand a bemused look. Then he took another bite. “The humans make good food,” he said as he chewed.
“You doubt me when I say there’s a human on the station, while you sit here eating their food! What is wrong with you?”
“I got hit in the head with a bomb,” Muntib answered helpfully.
“I didn’t ask you!”
“Don’t talk to my brother like that,” Voyrag growled. He set down his half-eaten slice. “Fine. There’s a human on the station. You want the human. You want us to get the human for you. What are you offering?”
“I’m willing to offer double my standard rate.”
“Not good enough.” A thick finger jabbed the hovering table. “This isn’t a ship full of colonists or a lone Celzi. This is a human. We may be on the opposite side of the compost pile from civilized space, but we do get news out here. One human wiped out a swarm of Hunters.”
Astim waved a small hand. “That human used trickery.”
“Exactly! They’re tricky, they’re tough, and they’re strong. You’re asking us to grab the most dangerous species in space, including the Hunters, and you’re going to compensate us properly. How do you expect us to hold it down, anyway?”
“Humans can be drugged. I wouldn’t have approached you if I didn’t have a plan, and my plans always work.” He was silent for a moment. “Triple.”
“Do better.”
“Are you not paying attention to me? It’s one human, not a pack! Fine, four times the regular rate.”
“Your credits don’t mean squat if we’re dead! Do better.”
Suddenly, Astim knew what Voyrag wanted. He narrowed his huge, black eyes. “You want access to my neural regenerator.”
Voyrag bared his teeth. “That’s a good start.”
The Corti pondered. Time in a neural regenerator was a ruinously expensive thing to purchase, but Astim actually owned one, so the cost wouldn’t be more than the cost of the fuel for the reactor to power it, which was little more than some deuterium. It would cost him next to nothing. He knew that the regenerator was the incentive that would guarantee him the brothers’ service… he just hadn’t expected Voyrag to demand it so soon.
“Fine. A half-day in my regenerator.”
“A full day. And the quadruple rate.”
Astim scowled… now they were cutting into his investments. “That’s ridiculous! The regenerator time alone is worth a hundred times that, and you want more on top of it?”
The Locayl waved dismissively. “If you don’t like it, go hire one of the other mercs on the station.”
He nearly snarled even though that was a primitive expression left to the less evolved races. “Fine. But you and your brother had best deliver.”
“If we don’t deliver, we die. You know that as well as I do,” he replied dismissively. The Locayl picked up his slice of pizza. “What about the hairballs it’s with?”
“They’re part of the plan… they’re the only ones you’ll have to `handle’. Get them and the human won’t be an issue.”
“Fine. Consider us hired.”
“Good.” Astim thumped the arm of the hoverchair, signalling he wanted to stand up. It lowered him to the ground, quietly folding into the floor once he was standing. He couldn’t wait to leave the filthy area… the smell of other beings was starting to bother him.
Just as he was about to turn, Voyrag seemed to think of something. “Why, by the way?”
“Why, what?”
“Why do you want this human? Not to put too fine a point on it, but every single Corti who thought to grab a human has had a… well, let’s say: a bad time. What makes you think you’ll do better?”
“I’ll do better because I know how dangerous a human is. As for what I want?” Astim smirked. He shouldn’t say, but he was so very proud of his idea. “What do I want with a breeding-age human female? Why, Voyrag… I’m going to make you obsolete. The Celzi have their Vulza, and I’m going to make them obsolete. I’m going to breed the most powerful bioweapons the Dominion has ever seen.”