Wild Space Pt. 04

What about Arold. Sita didn't answer, and was glad when her partner moved further down the bar to wave down the bartender. Yomp had asked his question casually, as if to remind her to inform her husband that she would be home late. As if it was that easy, she thought. When she graduated, she had told Arold that it might be best for him to remain on Benbar, that she would see him as often as she possibly could. But he had insisted on moving with her to the Rangers base. Their home moon wasn't luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, in fact the opposite, but even living there was easier than living here.

Arold had been a drafter back home, drawing detailed and elaborate plans for urban expansion and revitalization. If Benbar was good at two things, it was building and corruption, since they so often went hand in hand more than people realized. But Arold's work was honest. Sita had warned him that his type of job would be hard to come by as a civilian helper to the Barrens Ranges, but he'd insisted. The Rangers were always building and expanding, weren't they? But somehow Sita knew it wouldn't work out for him, that the Rangers wouldn't need someone with his talents. So far, she'd been right. The Rangers had been doing their own drafting, what little was needed, for a long time, and didn't see the need to design new plans. Arold took it personally and always complained. It didn't exactly make him fun to be around. When she factored in the long hours she herself worked the tension on their marriage was mounting. Sighing, she finished her drink.

"Has he found any work yet?" Yomp asked after settling up their bill.

"He's been trying stuff out at the metal shop, cleaning up after the workers leave." Together, the partners walked purposefully out of the Cloud Nine Qwik Dine, headed for their gear at the armory. "And the commandant said that they may need some schematics drawn up for the new transport bay, they might go with a different design from here on out."

The rest went without saying: if that came to light at all it would be a short term job. Arold would be back to cleaning up in the metal shop within a week, maybe less. Sita hoped he found something else to make him happy besides work, because if bodies kept showing up in recycling units, she couldn't be there for him, as much as it might somehow both pain and soothe her.

********************************

"It's a tragedy, that's what it is," Dr. Kello said in that precise, Capital educated accent. "A tragedy worthy of song, lass."

"Like an ancient sailors rhyme," Edge said as she nibbled on the spicy green vegetable in her cocktail. "Something to sing while pounding on your breast."

"I think we can treat the breast better than that, don't you?" Kello said as he watched her lips do their thing, only to watch her break into a full throated laugh, as if that zinger had been the height of wit.

Outside, on the tortured hellscape planet of Ajax's Scorn, the endless winds and black dust pelted the transparent windows, nearly blotting out the dark sky. Ajax's Scorn was terrestrial, but that was about where its friendliness ended. The temperature outside was well in excess of liveable, the air, such as it was, choked with noxious gasses that would kill any human in one breath. If it wasn't for the treasures contained in those gasses and the vast wind farms, the planet might never have been settled. But the prospect of silver always trumped all, at least in the Capital Systems. An interconnected series of domes and tunnels had been built on the harsh world ages ago, and to this day the local nobility threw harvest balls as their low folk toiled to bring in and filter the alien winds. It was still a backwater, she thought, with some glumness. I have yet to break into that upper echelon.

All around her, music lilted through the air, played perfectly by a group of Tavros in a darkened corner of the room. Edge knew that had it been possible the humans hosting the reception would have piped in the music, or sat the musicians in another room, but it didn't work that way with Tavros. They worked by what a human would call sight, but in reality was a complex, multi-faceted sense that all Tavros shared. Physically, the aliens resembled a cross between a human brain and a candy that had fallen behind a bookshelf, sticky and hairy and unsightly. But they had the unique ability to create, amplify and project sound with those ugly, non-humanoid bodies. Human musicians took up a great deal of room, drank or popped vibrants on the job, and made mistakes. Three Tavros could make enough sweet music to fill a decently sized banquet hall like this one, so long as they could "see" far enough, and unlike humanoid musicians could be compacted, decorated or hidden or cordoned off. The Capital Systems higher classes loved Tavros, an alien that couldn't speak and only had to be peeled away by servants at the end of the party.

Kello was a professor of anthropology, and nowhere near as tenured or respected as he claimed. She knew because they were seated near the Tavros, a place of low honor in any Capital society function. But Edge didn't mind. She wasn't here to social climb, anyway. But, as she tongued up the vegetable from her drink and crunched into it and washed it down with a sip of the delicious cocktail, she thought that society did have its benefits. She wasn't much of a drinker, but she never popped vibrants on or before a job, and so was grateful for what little relief the alcohol provided.

Tonight she wore a skirt that fell to just above her ankles, a heavy purple fabric, black leather belt, and a puffy blouse that left her hands and wrists bare. She was trussed and padded so that her normally fit body curved groaningly into an alluring female shape on Centralia. The outfit gave her heavy, pendulous breasts, thick thighs and hips, and a backside that could have doubled as a serving table. What strange people these well born Centralians were, and that one she knew from experience. As she shifted in her seat and sweated and itched she told herself that it was a good thing they were also rich. And resourceful.

Kello was going on about his research project, about the great transport ships buried under the surface of the homeworld, how the government called them caves. Edge's job tonight required that she listen, and she speak her mind and do so often, challengingly, like any self respecting noblewoman.

"Who is to say they aren't caves?" She wanted to know. Tonight her skin was dyed a bit paler, lips pretty in pink, cheeks thickened by oral inserts, and sported trendy black and red lenses over her eyes, nestled in between brow and cheekbone. Her hair, normally so thick and dark, was palest brown with blonde streaks. When she'd finished up her disguise for this caper she looked so foreign in face and body that she almost felt she went too far. But she fit right in.

"What's that, lass?"

"They could be caves," She reasoned. Like her face and clothing, her accent was fake, just as affected and well strutted out like all of the other well bred ones around her. "They're tunnels of rock deep into the surface, are they not?"

"To the untrained eye, lass," Kello said as he held out his glass to a passing server, who refilled it immediately. "But in an odd marriage of anthropology and seismology we have determined that the cave network is extensive, big enough to be a ship, several ships. Great world colonizing ships."

"Ships from where?"

"Ah, that is the question." He may have been a drunk and a sleaze, but she had to admit that Kello knew his stuff, that he was a true academic when it came to the science of the study of humanity's history. "They must have come from some great distance, because all of science agrees that humanity originated on the homeworld, Centralia, or so the prevailing hope goes. We founded the Capital Systems. And yet...why the caves, or why the ships?" He didn't wait for an answer, but only took a sip of his drink to allow her time to consider his words. "Also, we are fairly certain that, unlike other sentient life, evolution of humans did not take place on Centralia. Our bones have been the same for as long as we have been digging them up. Until that changes, I will be forced to conclude that humanity may have come to Centralia first, but it definitely originated elsewhere."

"You're flying in the face of the establishment." She said, and the remark pleased him, she could see. "Very interesting, doctor."

By Ana she needed a whack. Briefly, she rationalized making an excuse and disappearing to the lady's washroom and snorting deep of the vibrant hidden on her person. She never, ever got high on a job, but this Capital Worlds doctor with his rhetoric was fit to drive her over the edge.

Thankfully, a sudden urgent flutter of the music lilted over them, a cue for all of the couples to dance. As she took Kello's hand and was twirled towards the dance floor, Edge was grateful that part of her training had included traditional Centralian customs, cuisine and even dance, of all things. She could have hosted a dinner party for the Empress, had it been ordered of her.

For the next few hours, Dr. Kello held her close on the dance floor, ravenously ate his supper, and drank cocktails until he was nearly staggering, eyes red and steaming. As he grew more and more drunk, his classy hand kisses and so forth turned sloppier, his big groping hands coming to settle on her shoulder or right above her waist. She let him have at it, in fact, had the job required it she would have let him do whatever he wanted, but it would not come to that tonight, thankfully.

It was just a short hop, by planetary standards, via the professor's automated skimmer from the ballroom to the university, where Kello had on campus rooms. The lights from the windowed tunnels passed in quicker and quicker succession and she felt Kello drunkenly rubbing her shoulder. In a low rumble, he was telling her about all of his latest headaches and hassles and triumphs in the anthropology department. She was only half listening, but from what she could gather the academic world was just as cutthroat as hers. An amusing thought. His hand creeping up her leg interrupted her musings, and Edge took his hand in hers and gave it a hard squeeze.

"Ow!" Kello yelled. He held up his hand. "You bent my ring!"

She watched as he dragged the misshapen ring off of his knuckle and showed her how bent the circle of metal was. As he did, she studied another ring of his: a thick piece of metal with an offset stone shaped like a gust of wind, the sigil of his House. Small time or not, Kello would have royal and government contacts.

"Sorry, professor," She gave a wicked smile. "I have a tight grip. I would have thought that you'd relish it."

Kello rubbed his hand and smiled at her, one eye very nearly closed. "Perhaps I will forgive you. Perhaps."

Edge waited for him to continue, but it appeared he was done. He didn't paw at her or speak up again. Even drunk, he'd gotten the message. Perhaps he wasn't as dumb as she'd thought.

They were pulling up to the gate of the university, a towering edifice housed in its own large dome. The professor leaned his head against the window of the skimmer, and a guard leaned down from his booth, smirked, and tapped a few buttons. The computer on the automated skimmer rolled smoothly through the gate.

Kello was going on about the history of the university, and her role had been relegated to making a few interested sounding noises during pauses in his speech. She was more interested in the guard. He wore a gray helmet with a pink visor, one that sharpened his vision and shaded his eyes from the sun, a fancy piece of equipment for private security. His uniform, however, was a simple two piece gray outfit with soft boots and padded gloves. At his waist she'd glimpsed a sidearm, a Capital Army surplus pistol from a half century ago. She had deadlier weapons in her makeup bag back on the Horizon. She smiled to herself.

The professor's dwelling consisted of a triplicate of dusty rooms at the top of the stair in the university's main hall. Every conceivable flat surface, including the floor, was covered in tattered books. She marveled at them, picking one up at random.

"From Beyond: The History of Probability," She read aloud. "I haven't seen this much paper in a long time, Kello."

"Ah, my old books. I am something of a fetishist for them. That one is about civilizations outside of our immediate area," He told her, appearing at her side with a glass of wine for each of them.

"The immediate area?"

"Well, galactically speaking." He smiled, and more lecturing seemed to clear up some of his drunkenness. "Sorry, astronomy is not my field. Every school child knows that human life was first recorded on Centralia, near the very center of the galaxy, and we expanded from there. However, the probability of life outside of the area we can effectively scan, travel to or communicate with is vast. Very vast, lass. I know of some colleagues in the university's astronomy and exobiology departments who postulate that we've only accounted for the most meager fraction of life in the galaxy. There is more to space than the Barrens and the Capital Systems, you know."

"I do." Edge was smiling back at him, now genuinely interested, lost in thought. The possibility of more alien or any other kind of life has always fascinated her. There were plenty of people, alien and human, contained within the Capital Systems empire and its own more lawless, remote fringe area, what most folk called the Barrens. But whatever was beyond, or outside the immediate galactic area as Kello had said, was far too vast to effectively explore or colonize or claim. A few trade routes, a handful of outlying star systems and peoples who made regular forays into the Barrens, but nothing like the degree of civilization that existed more towards the center of the galaxy. The Capital Systems was too occupied with its own fiefdom, thickly peopled and full of resources to exploit. The Barrens were more or less ignored besides the occasional crack of the scourge, and the people that called that wild region of space home did not have the means to go off exploring.

She smelled a winey blast of breath before Kello kissed her, his wet lips forming a tight seal over her own mouth. For a moment she couldn't breathe until she made herself relax and go with the kiss. A meaty arm clamped around the small of her back, mashing into the padding there. She slipped her own arms around the professor's thick waist, and pulled him close, making a pretext of enjoying herself.

"I think we've talked enough about the stars for one night, lass," Kello said when the kiss ended, heavily panting down at her. "Come, let's get you out of that-"

There was a rip of cloth as the disposable knife she had spring loaded tore free of her wrist, and the professor's reddened eyes opened wide, his drunkenness gone the instant the blade hit home. She felt the skin tear, encountered something harder, and working by feel, pushed the knife in as deeply and sharply as she could. His mouth opened and he inhaled sharply. Before he could scream, she had the sound swallower up from its hiding place in her voluminous skirt and up to his lips. The cone shaped instrument drank in the sound and stored it, and before he could scream again he was dead.

She helped him to the floor, noting with satisfaction that there wasn't a great deal of blood from the wound. The finger thin dagger, made of degradable materials, plugged up the wound. It would dissolve naturally in a few hours, by which time she'd be long gone. It was simply a matter of killing him with one thrust, and she had managed it neatly. There was one remaining grisly task, however, and she would do it without complaint.

But first she needed to gear up, as her troop sergeant had always said. Gear up and fall in. Edge stripped off the skirt, and the pads fell away from her muscular body, the bulky bits that had given her the shape of a zaftig big breasted woman. She neatly arranged the pads on the big skirt, followed by the puffy blouse, then her cheek inserts and lenses, and wrapped it all up in the heavy fabric of the skirt. Underneath she wore a black tactical body suit under webbing. She was packing fairly heavy for this job: her tactical knife, the sound swallower, which she snapped behind her back right above her ass, a silenced pistol on her right hip, a roll-up electronic scroll-like computer on her left forearm, and a toolkit on her right. Her black dagger was at her hip, as always, and she unsheathed it now, kneeling by the dead man

Kello still wore his waistcoat, a tattered piece of finery that had lent him a slightly stuffy, quirky air. She placed the blade of her knife right in the hollow of the last joint of his index finger, and unhesitatingly cut off the tip of his finger. She stuffed the bleeding hand into the pocket of his coat, and slipped the bleeding bit of finger into a thick pocket in her own webbing. Like the thrust that had killed him, it was done quickly and clinically, with no flourish and little mess.

She collected the bundled up skirt and its contents, casting a glance around as she did so. To the casual observer, except for the degradable knife sticking out of his back, Professor Kello looked as if he'd passed out on the floor, drunk. She meant to keep up that charade.

The halls were deserted, a feeling echoed when she stepped outside, such as it was on this planet. Somewhere off in the distance, the winds that made Ajax's Scorn rich rattled a piece of the dome's windows, but there was no chirp of insects or stars above her. She couldn't feel the night. As she glanced around at the quiet street and made her way to the professor's skimmer Edge felt like she was the only person in the entire world. It was strange, experiencing such a peaceful sensation in the middle of a job.

She threw the bundled skirt and pads into the back seat, and wedged the sound swallower into the open window so the large end of its cone stuck outside. Edge hacked into the skimmer's computer with her forearm mounted scroll, and in a few moments had dialed in a complex route halfway around the planet at breakneck speed. She flicked a switch on the sound swallower and winced as Professor Kello's scream rattled her eardrums, over and over. Quickly, resisting the urge to cover her ears, she activated the hacked skimmer.

The vehicle leapt forward like an ambush predator after a long, hungry wait. Its speed was such that the sound of the scream lingered on the cusp of her hearing only for an instant, and by then it was someone else's problem. She hoped the thing wouldn't collide with a wall right away as she still had work to do.

The professor's finger let her back into his suite. His office was the largest and cleanest of his rooms. She didn't want to turn on the light, naturally, but her eyes had adjusted fairly well. Kello had a bone, probably human, in a plaque over his desk. There were bookshelves here and a large number of electronic scrolls, a statuette of Ana the Sea Lioness and the planet's namesake, Ajax the Great. Edge smelled something sharp and heady, and saw that Kello had an open decanter of whiskey on his sideboard that he hadn't bothered to close. How wasteful.

She moved over to the desk, and just like the intelligence had said, the safe was in the lower right hand drawer. She was just placing the severed finger into its biometric sensor when she heard the voice.

"Baby?" A sleepy woman asked throatily. "You said you'd wake me when you both got here."

The light snapped on as she was squatting by the desk. In the door frame was a woman in her early 50s, done up in makeup and a blowsy negligee and robe even to sleep. She was a light skinned black woman, with large dark eyes and a smattering of freckles over her nose that was echoed across the top of her heavy breasts. Her dyed hair fell to her shoulders in gaudy auburn ringlets, an unnatural color but one that went well with her skin tone and the powder blue lingerie she wore.