by Mia R Kleve
“You and Teyhi had the same idea. So, take him along, show him the ropes. It’ll help me not to miss you when you’re gone.”
“I hope your cave collapses on your progeny.”
Civix snorted and shoved the rest of the bowls in Balin’s direction.
* * *
Balin, still occasionally digging his tongue into the last bowl of crunchy snacks, waited in his ship and read. He skimmed through everything Civix had sent for a first pass, then settled in to pour over each while he waited. Flight logs, Cartography Guild records, notes from the bounty hunters, last locations recorded by the various ships that had gone in search of Sisseron. He wasn’t looking to connect tunnels yet, simply map out the burrow. He didn’t want to dip his brain too deeply, knowing an interruption would be coming before long.
The younger Peacemaker demonstrated surprisingly good manners by sending a message with several options on timing to meet rather than attempting to catch Balin in his ship.
“Not surprising,” Balin corrected himself, closing out all the open files and securing his slate. He had long become accustomed to the myriad odd habits of countless other species, many of whom thought nothing of appearing at one’s den and assuming a warm welcome. Even if Teyhi were arboreal rather than burrower stock, he’d know better.
With a grunt, Balin pushed off with his tail and straightened, not bothering to think on how long it had been since he’d spent any time with one of his own species. Instead he spent time carefully locking down each of the three compartments of his ancient ship. It was unlikely that anyone would be left unattended to prowl the docking arm of the Peacemaker quarters, but Balin had been around long enough to know how little “unlikely” had in common with “impossible.”
It had taken half his career to find a ship that worked for him, and entropy swallow them all if he let inattention take it from him. The Phidae had stopped making their own ships within a generation of encountering the Galactic Union, and a distressing number of ship-building beings preferred harsh angles, or over-wide spaces. This ship, its creation too far back to know for sure who had built it, suited him perfectly. Three curved sections connected by narrow doors reinforced enough to seal off breach damage, each space with room to clear his tall, powerful frame, and allow him maneuverability in zero-G, but close enough that he never felt like he would float free, forever apart from a solid surface. Two of the sections had bunks that folded out of the walls, and with trial, error, and a healthy application of credits, he had modified each of them to close around him like the cozy burrows of his youth.
He had spent far more credits on modifying the weapons systems, because comfort came from security as much as a proper place to sleep.
Balin checked through his security measures once more before stepping through the airlock and sealed his ship behind him. He considered returning to the small quarters he kept off-ship, then shrugged it off and sent a note ahead that he’d accepted now as the preferred time to meet Teyhi.
His goggles, dialed to acceptable dimness, flashed the directions from his pinplants to take him from the docking arm to the other Phidae’s location. He held his tail rigid as he moved through the narrower and more crowded halls of the station and arrived at the blank-walled meeting room without incident.
The light inside had been shifted to an appropriate level, and the wall screens were dim with inactivity. Two tables with a variety of seating options took up most of the space, and another Phidae squatted behind the further one, moving something around on his slate.
“Balin Antre’Phidae, we meet flat on the earth.” Teyhi stood and ducked his long head in respect to the older Phidae, holding his long-clawed hands close to his armored sides.
Balin let the moment hold and studied the younger being. He was of arboreal stock, with thinner claws, a slightly longer and thinner set of limbs. Climbing Phidae tended to be taller and more flexible, the burrowing descendants stockier and more solid. But both stood at solid heights, broad shouldered, and covered in interlocking, semi-movable scales. Teyhi’s scales were more sharply angled, almost diamond shaped, with duller edges. Balin’s, more of a rounded cube, lay flatter, and down the middle of arms, legs, and tail ran the razor-sharp edges that cut through rock and some bone when flared. The descendants of tree-Phidae tended to land squarely in the average of life lengths, where burrowers more often swung to the longer and dramatically shorter outlying limits.
Balin had rarely wondered if he’d see another Phidae in the Peacemaker ranks; he certainly had never considered having to deal with some flighty tree-climber.
But they were the same species, when it came to it, and subject to the same vagaries of interbreeding and genetics as any other. Old stories, rumors, and beliefs had little use off Adghalu, and he shrugged them away.
“Are you a Dimindiem?” he asked instead of completing the overly formal traditional greeting.
Teyhi’s claws spread and retracted, showing his surprise at the blunt question. He shifted back, tail drooping, then straightened again and reached for his slate.
“Uh. Yes. My family’s line throws one every few generations, and my mother said we were overdue.” He put his slate down again and touched the edge of his goggles. “I considered off world university, but I suppose the holos of PM and the Merc Squad were too tempting.”
Balin made a noise deep in his chest and held a hand up toward the younger Phidae, spreading his claws wide to show the lack of threat. “Don’t tell me that pile of entropy is still running?”
“On its fourth reboot, and they were planning a new offshoot when I left for training. I hear in that one, some of the half-lifers were going to meet a company of Humans and get their own armored fighting suits.”
“Are they going to cast actual Humans?” He was amused enough by the picture of a CASPer built for a Human also fitting a Phidae that he didn’t bother to stop himself from asking the question. They had work to do, but this felt too ridiculously perfect to ignore.
“Of course not—last I heard they were going to render some retired celebrities to look Human and make the most of their recognizable voices.” Teyhi relaxed, his tail curling slightly around the nearest table leg.
“The more credits they can make from the idea of those of us doomed to shortened lives, the less they have to worry about us.” Balin grunted a laugh and tapped his claws together casually. “You’ve been around long enough to know it’s nothing like the holos?”
“Yes, sir. I found out as much about your record as I could before I got here, and more since training. I’m not a newling.”
“Civix wouldn’t recommend you come along with me on this contract if you were.” Balin snorted. “Probably. Always better to check.”
Teyhi cocked his head, tail uncurling, and for a moment Balin thought the younger Phidae would manage to restrain the question crowding his throat. But Teyhi was young, and for all Dimindiems had far less of a lifespan to take the luxury of growing up slow, youth remained…youth.
“You are cautious, still? Even with…” Teyhi stretched his hand to ripple his claws uncertainly. “Your cells must be close to—”
“Added me up with my record, did you? Yes, my end is near. I told you it isn’t like the holos—there is no need to conserve a half-life, given how much less time we get than the rest of our kind. But also, there is no need to spend it for nothing. The Peacemaker Guild invested time in our training—the least we can do is get as much done as possible before our time winds down.”
“But the missions—”
“Those I prefer to be as dangerous as possible.” Balin wished he had brought more snacks. Teyhi was young indeed, to not have the constant hunger chewing at his gut. “Better me than a Peacemaker with a long run ahead. It’s simple enough. I won’t lose time that could be spent honoring threats to an entirely unenforced error.”
“And this one?”
“As Civix might have told you, this mission is properly dangerous. What files did he send you?”
>
“Just the reports from the last bounty hunter who—”
“Order us some food, and I’ll pull up what we have. We’re going to be here a while.”
* * *
Report Begins: Filed to Chrander, Zuul Bounty Hunter
Excerpt: Tracked target Sisseron to moon base in Cresht arm, off trade routes. Believe it has been a storehouse for the goods he’s been hijacking. Found discrepancies in the Cartography logs. Theory is he’s not just tweaking his transponder he’s swapping out codes with a virus. I know Cartography listed a general complaint, but we also know they wouldn’t want something that works on their records out in the public stream. He’s somewhere in this system unless he’s better than I think—I went through every departing ship and everything else is accounted for. Left a few contacts prepped at the gate, and no ships of size for him to lock on to, so I’ll keep monitoring the traffic until something pings.
Excerpt: Ran him to ground. Sending location information for tracking in case this goes waste-shaped.
Excerpt: Criminal contained. ETA to Core, 170 hours.
Report begins: Filed to Jibbo, Veetch Bounty Hunter
Excerpt: No sign of Chrander or his ship. Tracked Sisseron to this location, no one saw anything. Security complained that I roughed up too many inhabitants, but they know something they aren’t saying. I will work with the gate master to parse out where the Cochkala might have gone. No evidence of the virus or changed records Chrander mentioned. The gate master swears it’s impossible, but he won’t look me in either eye.
Excerpt: Tracked to edge of Tolo arm. Target has a network to be sure, it’s been a flaming nebula’s gas ball to hunt even this much of a trail. These are my old flying grounds though, so I’m rustling up old bribes and older favors.
Excerpt: Found him and a fairly sophisticated re-sell group. False walls, double knocks, the whole deal. It’s like a fencing operation out of an old holo. Rounded up a few, unfortunately shot two dead, but it was all re-sellers, no civilians caught in the crossfire. Target secured, ETA 170 hours.
Emergency code: ship structure breached. No life signs detected.
Report begins: Filed to Cleric, Human Bounty Hunter
Excerpt: Think he’s burned through his resources and contacts, it’s been much easier to track than Bounty Hunters Chrander and Jibbo reported. Commendations to them for bleeding this flaming asshole empty. I’ve narrowed Sisseron to three locations and will be dark until I tag him. I’m going to move under an old cover from the old days. He’s clearly seen “bounty hunter” coming, but he won’t see me.
Excerpt: Target had an ambush set up in Herunimine Station. I triggered it remotely, took out three of his shooters. For a Cochkala out of the Consortium, he works with quite a lot of other non-Wathayat beings. It actually makes him easier to track—in this corner, seems like most keep to their own species. I’ve got him penned on Herunimine, sending location as I’m still unclear how he escaped from both Zuul and Veetch—neither of them were idiots.
* * *
There was no question of which ship to take. Teyhi had his first missions under his claws, but still operated with Guild-standard transport. Balin didn’t have enough time left in a functioning body to lecture the rookie on proper investments, and so told Teyhi where and when to arrive.
The younger Phidae had been prompt and genuinely admiring of the small ship. It was more suited for a burrower than a climber, but Balin made a note to tell Civix how to dispose of the Eletine—if Teyhi didn’t prove himself an utter waste.
The mission had barely gotten started but being forced to work with another Phidae made his dwindling countdown loom more pressingly. The Eletine had served him too well not to go to someone who would love her.
As Balin showed him the second sleeping area, Teyhi studied the burrow-like cubby and the tip of his tail curved close to his body. Balin made an effort not to grunt and though not entirely successful, he didn’t make a production of it. Though the branches of Phidae had re-interbred and had long had more similarities than differences, some old instincts remained. For the climbers, the weirder instincts had bred true.
Grounder Phidae slept curled into armored balls, in tight spaces that echoed their burrows of old. Arboreal Phidae anchored their flexible tails around a projection and rolled against gravity, their bodies folding neatly into a near-perfect circle against a wall or tree, arms wrapped around their heads, appearing as a tidy sphere of scales.
“We can take the bedding out of the top bunk’s frame,” Balin said, another grunt working its way from his gut. “That should be enough of an anchor if we fold the bottom bunk into the compartment and out of your way.”
Teyhi twitched his claws in gratitude, and Balin grunted a third time before the younger Phidae could express the emotion out loud. No one needed a sleep-deprived rookie blundering through the mission and meeting this weird drive of the arboreal stock would prevent that. Teyhi would be better suited to watching his back. No unforced errors.
Balin’s tail curled contentedly behind him as he walked to the next compartment and the pilot’s chair.
* * *
The station appeared normal. It was busy enough that Balin had used his Peacemaker code to jump the docking queue. He didn’t love locking into the station, given they were fairly sure Sisseron had blown Herunimine as part of a quick escape. The Cochkala didn’t give half a rotten meal for lives beyond his own, if saving his own hide had been worth turning his engines on the station to get out fast.
There was no reason to believe Sisseron wouldn’t use the same trick twice, and risking Eletine gave him pause. Not enough to keep from docking but pause all the same. Alas, no other options presented themselves, and once locked into a bay and on board the station, they’d observed a normal mix of beings for this corner of the galaxy, all going about their business.
Balin didn’t like it. He said nothing to Teyhi, not trusting the rookie’s composure, and dialed his goggles through every range it had as they walked through the spiraling tunnels. No one looked twice at them, the crowd flowing easily enough he didn’t have to mind his scales.
Nobody looked once at them. The universe was a wide place, with beings of all kinds long jaded to the uniqueness of other races. Still, Phidae were not common outside of their system, the vast majority choosing to spend their long lives enjoying the restful, perfectly adapted environs which they’d grown from. Only the half-lives reliably left, burning their lives out in glorious fashion. And even those left bare echoes of ripples in the wider fabric of the galaxy.
Beings in the universe could certainly be blasé about the variety of aliens they might see on a daily basis, but for not a single one of the living creatures on this station to even look at two, widely built, dangerously scaled, armed and unfamiliar creatures with Peacemaker badges?
It roiled his gut, and alongside the gnawing hunger of old age, that left him cranky. They’d used Cleric’s report to trace the most likely ships and paths Sisseron took after the explosion at Herunimine Station. Two false leads didn’t help his mood, so it remained possible this station wasn’t “off” at all, but he was.
Nevertheless, every hiss of a door opening, every shadow in a corner, ensured he triple-checked at the least. The Cochkala’s trail, if they had it, had revealed nothing except more disinterested shopkeepers, record-takers, and semi-legitimate traders working with the Wathayat in one way or another.
The last bored smuggler who paid no attention whatsoever to them triggered Teyhi’s instincts. The other Phidae tensed and relaxed his claws but remained otherwise steady. Balin doubted anyone not of their species would notice the slight movement, never mind ascribe the correct emotion to it. A warm hint of pride curled the tip of his tail, and he flared the scales down his arms to maximize the sharpest edges.
Both Peacemakers slowed their pace as they approached a two-story intersection crossing levels and corridors. Beings moved about their business, orderly in the way of a careful station’s routine
.
So orderly, in fact, Balin’s hand had already wrapped around his pistol when three of the figures above dropped to their knees at the same, coordinated moment.
Teyhi reacted with admirable speed, curling forward and rolling behind a directory console that chirped monotonous welcomes in various languages.
Balin had identified cover with every new bend in visibility and swept his tail to add momentum to his own fold-and-roll back to the plinth behind him. Nothing in the area made for actual safety, which meant that whoever had planned the attack had some sense.
Not much, to leave enough clues for Balin to be on his guard, but some. He could appreciate an opponent who put up a worthwhile fight.
Then, picturing the faces of the bounty hunters who’d chased this quarry ahead of him, Balin quashed the professional admiration in favor of something much colder.
He focused his goggles to compensate for his poor eyesight and shot six times. Between his and Teyhi’s efforts, two shooters fell. Unfortunately, they took long enough that reinforcements fell into line. Balin lifted his pistol and fired again, taking a moment to scan the now-empty corridor. No one remained but the Peacemakers and their ambushers.
Either the station inhabitants had known this was coming or violence erupted often enough here that regulars had escape plans. Either way, he didn’t need to worry overmuch about collateral damage.
“Two more down!” Teyhi called, leaving his head up longer than strictly necessarily. Laser-resistant scales were all well and good, but neither Peacemaker knew what sort of weapons their ambush party had in wait for them. Always better to take caution over dying.
Their attackers had tried to set up a kill box but acted too soon. That was the sort of unforced error Balin liked—the enemy’s. He bared his teeth, locked his pinplants’ targeting through his goggles, and threw the ever-digging entropy out of a handful of grenades. He never stepped onto a station without appropriately calibrated explosives, strong enough to knock down a few enemies but not enough to blow a hole in a critical, atmosphere-retaining wall.
