The Ghalian Code: Space Assassins 3

by Scott Baron

  “I get a room?”

  “Of course,” Demelza replied.

  “And a bed? An actual bed, with a real pillow?”

  “Naturally.”

  Now it was Demelza’s turn to find the slim woman hugging her tight, her arms wrapped around her as best she could. A little flash of amusement creased the corners of Hozark’s eyes. It seemed both of them would need to be laundering their clothing after this unlikely encounter.

  And it would be entirely worth it.

  Henni led the way to their ship as they wove through the dimly lit streets and alleyways. The girl had a knack for finding the easiest path, and though they knew full well where the ship was and how to return to it, their new friend was a local. And a resourceful one at that. One who knew all the shortcuts and back ways.

  “How is it you know precisely where we are parked?” Hozark asked. “Were you following us since our arrival?”

  “Oh, nothing like that. But you said I would get my own room. And since there are two of you already, and you’re clearly not together––”

  “What makes you say that?” Demelza asked. “Most automatically assume a man and woman traveling as we are to be a couple.”

  “Oh, please. It’s so obvious you two have zero attraction for each other. I mean, you like each other, clearly, but it’s more of a professional thing, if that makes any sense.”

  “Perfect sense,” Demelza replied with a little grin.

  Henni, it seemed, was even more perceptive than she’d initially realized. It wasn’t a magic thing, though. It was just her natural way of being observant. Of seeing beneath the superficial acts people put on.

  “But that doesn’t explain your knowing where we left our craft,” Hozark said.

  “Oh, that. Yeah. Since it has to have at least three sleeping chambers, that means that it would have a decent-sized command center. And that means a cargo hold and probably a few other little additions, seeing as you’re Wampeh Ghalian and all. So, for a ship that size, and since you were so interested in Emmik Ozman, the closest suitable landing site that was also relatively tucked out of the way would be this one,” she said as they emerged from the alleyway into the far end of the rows of parked craft.

  “Clever girl,” the master assassin mused. “Come along, then. Let us leave this place. We have work to do.”

  They climbed into the ship to prepare for flight, but Henni paused in the doorway, looking back on the dirty world as emotion flooded her once more. Her eyes were shining, but not from tears. Power swirled within those limpid orbs, and the tiny galaxies sparkling within seemed to come alive with her swelling happiness.

  “Come on, Henni. You are free of this place,” Demelza said. “Let’s get you settled in.”

  Henni took a final glance, then turned her back on the shitty world of Groll. She was finally free, something she’d only dreamed of for so long. And more than that, she was with friends.

  Once the grime had been thoroughly scrubbed from her body in the sheer bliss of the craft’s hot water shower, and her old bundles of clothes tightly sealed in a storage container, Henni settled down in the privacy of her own room on the first real bed she’d lain on in longer than she could remember.

  And then, as the ship quietly flew on to their next destination, the exhausted young woman felt the stress and always-present alert anxiety of her existence finally loosen its grip, and with a relieved sigh, slipped into the most tranquil, deepest sleep imaginable.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The exhausted young woman had been sound asleep for nearly three hours when Hozark and Demelza convened in the command module of their ship.

  Both were wearing fresh attire, not so much from a desire to change into something more comfortable for the flight, but because the smell of Henni’s joyful embrace would take a decently strong spell to remove from their clothing.

  Fortunately, the young woman had washed away all of those months, or possibly even years, of filth as soon as she’d boarded, and her damn-near biohazard clothing had been safely sealed and tucked away in the cargo storage area.

  Demelza would have preferred burning it with fire to ensure the completeness of its removal from existence, but Hozark held her back. He felt it would be wise to keep their guest’s outfit in case it might be needed in the future.

  That degree of filth and stench simply could not be mimicked by most spells, and ensconced in that bundle of cloth, the young woman was as good as invisible to most. And that might come in handy.

  Of course, they both hoped she would prove to be as effective in clean clothes as she was in dirty ones. It would certainly make traveling with her a lot easier.

  “You know, I think this one has quite a bit of potential,” Demelza mused as they plotted their next jump.

  Tracking down leads was busy work, and while the Ghalian spy network was diligently running down possibilities, with the sheer quantity of coin advanced to them by Visla Jinnik, it would be foolish not to use some of that to bring to bear every resource at their disposal.

  Hozark sat deep in thought, his fingers steepled as he pondered the unusual circumstances by which they had come across their passenger. She had a gift. Possibly several. But with her traumatic shock, that element of unpredictability made her something of a wildcard. But at least she was a wildcard on their side.

  “I wish we had the time to have one of our specialists work with her,” he said, turning to Demelza. “She truly is a disturbed young woman.”

  “Yet strong. Strong and self-sufficient.”

  “By necessity.”

  “Which does nothing to change her proficiency at surviving.”

  “I wouldn’t dream to suggest it did. I was merely pointing out that the origins of a good many of her skills and tricks were likely rather difficult circumstances. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised at all to learn she had been in more than one do-or-die type situation in her past.”

  “The look in her eyes? Yes, it seems likely.”

  “And about those eyes,” Hozark said, voicing what they had both been thinking. “You saw the stars in them, Demelza. The sparkle. It was not a figure of speech in her case.”

  “It has always been a rumor. I never believed I would actually see anyone with the anomaly. But could it mean she truly does have unknown powers?”

  “Time will tell, my friend. But it seems clear that if there is a gift that accompanies those eyes, Henni is not yet aware how to utilize it.”

  “Perhaps we can help teach her.”

  “If only we knew the first thing about them ourselves,” Hozark replied. “But for now, we keep a close watch over our little friend and do what we can to help her fit into her new role while she is with us.”

  “She had a very solid lead on the one who likely left that note for Emmik Ozman,” Demelza said. “That was an impressive bit of intelligence gathered by a young, untrained woman. I think with our help, she will fit in just fine.”

  “Indeed. And now, we have a great deal of work to do. The visla’s child is out there somewhere, and we have a task to complete.”

  “I think it is likely time we summon Uzabud and Laskar, wouldn’t you agree? I have a feeling we will be needing their assistance in the coming days.”

  “More likely than not,” Hozark concurred.

  He retrieved their long-range skree and sent a message to the former pirate, wherever he may be. Then they waited.

  The nature of a skree’s magic was simple. It communicated with other skrees within its magic’s range. Typically the same solar system, but occasionally all the way to extra solar bodies, if they weren’t too far out.

  For longer contact, however, a long-range skree was required. It used a great deal more magic, and relied on both its own densely packed spells, as well as the piggybacked repeater nature of the other long-range skrees it would ping off of.

  It was that cooperative nature of the devices that made them so costly and rare. Most simply didn’t have the coin to keep one activ
e, knowing others might sap some of its magic with their own communications. But for the wealthy, it was not a concern. And the Wampeh Ghalian were wealthy indeed.

  It took some time for them to finally receive a reply, but eventually they heard Bud’s voice come over the device.

  “You want us to come join you for what? To go to a party on Ripsala?” Uzabud said. “I mean, sure, we love a good party, and we’ll bring all the usual fun stuff with. But we’re a pretty long way out. It’s gonna take us a bit of time to get there. Plus, we’ve got a few loose ends we need to tie up here before we head out. But we’ll join you just as soon as we’re able. And thanks for the invite!” he said, ending the transmission.

  Of course, there was no party, nor would he be bringing along the accoutrements one would associate with festivities. But knowing the Council of Twenty possessed a secret backdoor into the supposedly secure and impenetrable skree network meant that on the exceedingly rare occasions a Wampeh Ghalian utilized a skree, it was done with a predetermined code system to ensure none were the wiser to their communications.

  Bud and Hozark had long ago come up with a basic series of predetermined messages, and by now they were quite comfortable utilizing them if need be. And at the moment, given the distance between them and how hard it would have been to send one of the Ghalian messengers personally, it was definitely a need-be situation.

  Hozark tucked away the specialized skree in its holding compartment and turned to the star chart beside him.

  “It seems it may take him a bit longer than we anticipated,” Demelza said, looking at the chart as well. “What do we do until then?”

  “Until then?” Hozark said. “We have coordinates of the possible deliverer of the emmik’s note, yes, but we need Bud and Laskar for that.”

  “So, we are stuck waiting?”

  “I think not,” he replied. “What of the armed forces that were employed for the strike on the visla’s estate? Think about it. Unmarked uniforms. Tslavar mercenaries for hire. And a Council-sanctioned action, no less? Why, it seems obvious. Only a very few places where one could easily arrange such things. And one of them is relatively nearby. We’re going to Azlaht.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Azlaht. It was a thriving hub for acquiring pretty much anything you could possibly want or need, legal or otherwise. Weapons, recreational spells, even dangerous magic was sold in the many sprawling marketplaces there.

  The Council tended to turn a blind eye, as was so often the only way an underground black market of that sort could remain operational. It was because the power players allowed it. And they had their fingers in the pot as well. No business was transacted that they didn’t get at least a small piece of, in one manner or another.

  Especially the mercenary trade.

  The Tslavars were a brutish race. One fond of, and prone to, violence regardless of their employment by the Council. But as the favorite mercenary enforcers of choice to carry out the Council’s plans, a great deal of the green men and women had served under Council of Twenty orders. And more often than not they enjoyed a bit of leeway in their other, non-Council affairs for it.

  There was a rumor in the wind, but many believed the Council was quietly attempting to make the Tslavar fleets into an exclusive extension of their own reach. If no others could hire the mercenaries, or at least the majority of them, it would give the Council a great deal of leverage.

  If successful, they could then flex their collective muscle across a wider range and conduct their affairs from afar, all without requiring the risking of their own people’s lives, which they tended to value far more than mere mercenary contractors.

  And Azlaht was one of the vital hubs for the mercenary trade. One Hozark felt might provide them with some much-needed answers.

  Hozark took his ship in a quick loop around the planet, mirroring the orbits of a great many other craft that had arrived there recently and were deciding which of the commerce zones they would be landing in. Unlike many worlds, Azlaht did not have just one capital city. It had power hubs across all continents, but no one person or group ruled them all.

  For that reason, the Wampeh would have to make several stops on this world to accomplish their plan. And after an hour watching the traffic to and from the surface, Hozark selected the first.

  He took the ship down in a rapid descent, snatching up a prime landing site as a larger Tslavar ship took off. It was a perfect place to start, and right in the middle of the mercenaries’ stomping grounds within the city itself.

  “This is a rather dangerous part of the region,” Hozark said to the young woman now an impromptu part of their crew. “And you have only just been freed of your former home. Stay here and regain your strength. We shall return shortly.”

  Henni, washed, rested, and clothed in nondescript but clean attire, stretched in the doorway of her room. Without that additional layer of grime, her violet hair shone with renewed health, even in the ship’s normal lighting.

  “I’ll come with,” she said. “I can help.”

  “I’m sure you can. But the initial effects of a single night’s sleep can be deceiving. Build your strength and energy. There will be plenty of time for excursions in less-dangerous regions.”

  “I’m used to dangerous,” she protested.

  Hozark flashed a look at Demelza.

  “We know you are, Henni,” Demelza said. “And you are a tough woman, indeed. I have every confidence in your abilities, as does Master Hozark. But what he is trying to tell you is that while we would gladly have you join us on this outing, our disguise is one that your presence would make difficult to maintain. We shall be acting as a married couple in search of our child. And I’m sure you can understand, two distraught parents makes a much more convincing act on their own.”

  Henni’s attitude shifted, lightening immediately. She turned to Hozark.

  “Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”

  “Forgive my lack of clarity,” he replied.

  Demelza headed for the galley. “Would you like some food while we are away? You must be hungry after such a long rest.”

  Henni’s eyes spoke as loudly as the rumble in her stomach. Demelza smiled warmly.

  “Come. I will show you where the rations are kept.”

  “I know where they are,” Henni said, scooting ahead of the Wampeh and down the corridor to the galley.

  Hozark let out a low chuckle. “It appears our guest has already made herself right at home.”

  “That she has. It is nice to see her rebounding from her hardships so quickly, though we both know it will take more than a bath and good night’s sleep to heal some of those wounds.”

  “I agree. But it is a start. Now, let us feed the girl and prepare for our task. This promises to be an interesting excursion.”

  The pale couple walking the avenues and alleyways of the bustling commerce hub looked rather out of place. Too clean. Too polished. And definitely too weak. The uncomfortable glances they cast at the ruffians around them only reinforced the impression.

  These offworlders had no place on a world like this, and the local talent smelled them like a shark could find a drop of blood in an ocean. But there were a lot of sharks, and some were bigger and badder than others. They all noted one another, and a silent game of chess began, to see which of them would scare off the others and claim this prize.

  The couple seemed completely oblivious to the machinations unfolding around them as they walked deeper and deeper into the marketplace, right toward the most dangerous part, in fact. The area even the biggest and baddest steered clear of, for the sharks that resided there had something they did not. Council backing.

  “I think this is the place,” the man said in a thin, reedy voice.

  “Should we go in?” his wife asked.

  The lurking men and women silently willed them not to, but to no avail it seemed.

  “We must. For the sake of our boy,” the man replied, then strode right into the place t
hey shouldn’t have. The place even the toughest avoided.

  They walked right into the Tslavar mercenaries’ den.

  All eyes turned to them when they stepped inside. To say they stood out would be an understatement. Pristine attire and foppish manners were not something the Tslavars were known for.

  “Excuse me,” the man said.

  The crowd stared but ignored him. If, by ignored, you meant sized up for an easy target.

  “I said, excuse me!” he repeated with a little more force, though his thin voice wavered as he did. “I am looking for whoever is in charge of this place.”

  A towering mountain of a man with a latticework of scars crisscrossing his deep-green skin rose from his seat to his full height. He knew his role well, and the way he unfolded and loomed over the visitors showed he had done this on more than a few occasions.

  “What tha hell do you want, little man?” he growled, his fingers idly tapping the pommel of the comically large dagger at his waist.

  “Um, yes. Uh, are you the one in charge here?”

  “I am.”

  The man looked scared, but the woman nudged him. The Tslavar appreciated her curves with an obvious leer. Just his type. She blushed and positioned herself slightly behind her husband.

  “Then I have a proposition for you,” the man said, plucking up his courage.

  “A proposition? I see something I might take ya up on,” the man replied, his colleagues joining him in a disconcerting chuckle.

  The man and wife shared a worried glance, but the woman’s back straightened, and she stepped out from her man’s protection.

  “We want you to do a job for us,” she said, trying to be brave.

  “I bet you do,” the Tslavar replied, again with that same overt leer.

  “We want to hire you to find our boy, Happizano. He has run away, but we fear someone may have taken him from the streets.”

  “You hear that? They want us to play nanny,” the man said, roaring with laughter. “Oh, dearie, you really are in over your head, aren’t you? You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”