The Eyes of the Huntress

by Niall Teasdale

  As she was working her way through a display of plastic tubes trying to work out which of the enormous variety of products would be best for her skin type, she heard Cantarvey’s voice relayed through the small neural induction unit in her hair. ‘You will be pleased to know that you are not on StarCorps’s most wanted list.’

  ‘I am,’ Shil replied, hoping anyone watching thought she was using some sort of hands-free phone, and not just talking to herself.

  ‘I have also determined that Nuril Namva is still on the list. No one has sighted him in the last three of their months.’

  ‘Over a hundred days and no sign at all?’

  ‘Yes. Rumours have begun to circulate that he was killed in a dispute over the future of Teladin Maccaro. The group has become split over his methods. They have been far quieter than usual for the last fifty or sixty days.’

  ‘Really… Interesting. See if you can run down where these rumours started.’

  ‘I will try, but you may be better asking at the local StarCorps office. It is on this station, the administration district.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll go there after I figure out what kind of gunk to put on my skin when I go down.’ Cutting off her transceiver, she turned and looked at the assistant who was hovering nearby. ‘Could you help, please? I need a sunscreen and I’m kind of new around here.’

  The assistant blinked. ‘Your Amlic is very good for a stranger.’

  ‘I’m a fast learner.’

  ~~~

  The desk officer at the StarCorps office was fairly young, and a lurian. His green eyes widened and his jaw dropped open as Shil strutted into the foyer. She had spent a short while walking in her new boots on Radahara, just to make sure she could do it properly, but the tall heels helped the swing of her hips anyway. If she was going to be a vamp, she was going to go all-out on it.

  Still, she gave a sigh as she stopped in front of the desk. ‘Somehow I expected more… decorum. Close your mouth before something flies in.’

  The corpsman straightened his back and closed his mouth. ‘Can I help you, ma’am?’

  ‘I’d like to speak to someone about Nuril Namva. I’m going to bring him in.’

  ‘You’re going to… You’re a bounty hunter?’

  ‘Huntress, Corpsman Poll. The breasts should be a dead giveaway.’

  He gave a sheepish grin. ‘Uh, yeah… You want Lieutenant Laral. Please take a seat. I’ll see if she can see you.’

  ~~~

  Lieutenant Laral was a native armil. Her skin was dark, but she had slightly paler eyes than was typical. Her hair was jet black and cut neatly to shoulder length. She walked into the interview room and gave Shil a once-over and not a not particularly approving look.

  Shil smiled, leaned back in her chair, and crossed her legs.

  ‘You are going to bring in Namva?’

  ‘It’s what I do. There are rumours that he’s dead, and his group has been far less active on the political feeds recently.’

  Laral sat down, crossing her arms and legs. ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘Do you believe the rumours?’

  ‘No. Namva is a cold-blooded bastard. He’s a murderer with a cause. I think he uses the cause to justify killing people. The chances of him dying in some internal conflict are… slim.’

  Shil nodded. ‘Do you know where these rumours began?’

  ‘They first started turning up on newsfeeds out of Rachil. It’s–’

  ‘The principal city on the southern continent. Teladin Maccaro is strongest down there, I believe.’

  ‘Yes… The movement to become a StarCorps signatory grew out of the northern cities. The south has always been more agricultural. There’s still a little resentment over the way the north handles off-world trade.’

  ‘Justifiable resentment?’

  ‘You’re asking me, an armil, that?’

  ‘You’re also a lieutenant in StarCorps. And I don’t know where you were born.’

  ‘Huh. I was born in Rachil. It’s justifiable if you want to justify it. The south sees less off-world trade than the north, but then they don’t produce much that anyone off-world wants. Pretty much everyone in the south is happy being the breadbasket of Armilin, but you’re always going to get people who don’t like it, who want more. Namva, however, is a northerner. He just wants anarchy.’

  ‘Could I get his file sent over to my ship? The Cantarvey, she’s in dock two. I’ll go over it and start in the morning.’

  ‘You’re going down to Rachil? They don’t see a lot of aliens down there. You’re going to have a lot of trouble hiding your search.’

  Shil smiled. ‘That’s the thing, I don’t mean to.’

  Rachil, Armilin, 19.4.943 Local.

  Shil picked a nice, respectable-looking hotel in the city centre to walk into. Armil fashion was hardly Victorian: they lived in a warm climate, it was summer, and the populace wore loose, fairly thin clothing. The women did tend to wear long skirts, however. Shil had checked her memory of their cultural norms and there was nothing particularly religious about it, just a cultural bias. Marching into the hotel in a skintight suit with most of her torso on display was going to make sure she was remembered.

  ‘I’d like a room,’ she stated to the man behind the reception counter.

  ‘Uh, length of stay?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Let’s start with two nights and I’ll extend if I need to. Is that okay?’

  ‘As madam wishes. Check-in is not until midday, however.’

  ‘That’s fine. Reserve me something with a double bed. I’ll return at midday. I have a few things to do around town. The name is Shil.’

  ‘Of course. Is madam here on business or pleasure?’

  ‘Oh, business. I’m hunting for Nuril Namva.’

  ~~~

  She had converted another few of her precious bonds into local currency before arriving in Rachil, and by the end of the day with the room paid for and a lot of walking done, she was hoping that she would not have to dip into her reserve. Also, that she could take her boots off and relax for a while.

  She had done a very loud job of asking in a lot of bars and anywhere else she could think of, whether anyone could sell her information on the whereabouts of Namva. She was not expecting results, and she had got none. She had, however, bought a lot of drinks – which she had sampled very few of – and seen a lot of the city.

  Rachil had a population of about a million. Armilin had a population of five billion, but in the south it was spread quite thin. Rachil was the largest city there, and the only one Shil would have actually described as a city. The nearest settlements to it were little more than large towns. The vast majority of the population was in the somewhat overcrowded north. The people here seemed happy. They had relatively modern technology, and little industry to spoil the view or the rather thick atmosphere. It was difficult to believe that an organisation like Teladin Maccaro had grown out of a place like this. Perhaps it had not always been so good.

  She retired to her room for the night hoping that news of her searching had reached the right, or wrong, ears. It was getting close to midnight when someone slipped in through the room’s door and she knew it had.

  He was a native, dressed in dark, loose slacks and shirt, and wearing soft-soled shoes to make less sound. He moved lightly across the soft carpet, producing a silenced pistol from his pocket and aiming it at the shape in the bed. Then he put three rounds into the shape, and the smell of propellant filled the air. Smiling, he stepped closer, reaching for the covers…

  And that was when Shil stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the room and jabbed the hilt of her sword into his side. The neural induction head the weapon was fitted with fired and the would-be assassin collapsed to the floor as his entire voluntary nervous system shut down.

  ‘Fell for the pillows under the blankets trick,’ Shil said to the fallen man. ‘Dumb bastard. Cantarvey, two to beam up.’

  Her glee at being able to say that was diminished by the reply
. ‘I’m sorry, Shil. “Beam?”’

  ‘Just lock onto my transmitter and transport me and the man in this room up to the ship, please.’

  ‘Oh. I will make a note of that for future use.’

  ‘Don’t think I’ll use it again,’ Shil grumbled as she waited for the transport.

  Cantarvey, 20.4.943.

  There were four cells on the Cantarvey, hidden away on the upper deck where D’nova had had a nanofabricator which he had neglected to mention. They were small, but they provided basic life support for anyone Shil needed to transport from one place to another. There was a bed, and toilet facilities in each, and one other feature her prisoner was becoming familiar with.

  ‘So, you’re Radichan Turnil,’ Shil said from the other side of the force screen which sealed the room, ‘and you’re not from Rachil. And you’re not supposed to be trying to kill visitors to that fair city so I’m going to assume that you’re Teladin Maccaro.’

  Turnil said nothing. He lay on the bed where she had left him, unable to move thanks to a neural induction field. He was sweating and looking uncomfortable, and yet oddly happy.

  ‘That weird euphoric sensation you’re feeling, the reason you’re rock hard despite the fact that you’ve been captured by the woman you were sent to kill, that’s the neural field. It’s stimulating various nerves, and keeping other ones inactive, obviously. It’s a marvellous invention, really quite amazing. I can make it stronger…’ Turnil’s eyes rolled back in his head and his jaw dropped open. ‘But for now we’ll stick with the lower setting. You see, it’s addictive. Even on the low setting, you could have problems if I keep it up for a long time.’

  He was breathing hard. That was good, but Shil watched the readouts being displayed to her carefully. The other thing about the strong setting was that it could induce a heart attack if used too much. Killing her prisoner would get her nowhere.

  ‘I just want to know if Namva is still alive. You can tell me that.’

  ‘Go fuck yourself.’

  ‘I plan to. Later. After I’ve found out what I want to know.’

  It took her twenty-five minutes of subtle manipulation of the field and careful questions, but he finally cracked. ‘Yes, he’s alive. We spread the rumours to get the authorities off his back. StarCorps will drop their bounty if he’s not seen for a year.’

  ‘Uh-huh, so where is he?’

  ‘You said you just–’

  ‘And you believed me. You fell for the pillows under the blankets too. Are all you people this dumb or were you picked out for this job so they could increase their average IQ?’

  ‘I don’t know where he is.’

  ‘Yes you do. I read his profile. StarCorps compiled it and they don’t seem to be especially good at reading between the lines. They think he likes anarchy, but I think he’s a control freak. He wants control. He wants an end to the coalition government because it gives him the opportunity to take control of some little patch of dirt and run things the way he wants. A man like that wouldn’t trust you to act on your own. Your orders came from him. Directly. I bet he micromanages toilet breaks. Where is he?’

  ‘I don’t nnnnnn.’ His body arched off the bed as a wave of intense pleasure rushed through him for a second. ‘Shophia! He’s in Shophia.’

  ‘And what’s he up to in Shophia?’ Shophia was the capital city, up in the north. Whatever Namva had planned there, it was probably not good, unless he was just hiding.

  ‘He… he’s got another bomb. There’s a parade in two days for World Unification Day. He’s going to set it off at that.’

  Shil frowned. ‘He’d kill hundreds of thousands of people.’

  ‘For the cause. Yes.’

  ‘You don’t kill people for causes. You threaten to kill them, make demands. Then you do it if the demands aren’t met.’

  ‘He’s going to–’ He cut off as another wave of bliss washed through him.

  When it died away, Shil said, ‘Thing is, I did mention this was a neural field, right? So, when you lie you use different parts of the brain. You have to construct the story instead of remembering facts. You can’t lie to me, Radichan. You can close your mouth and I can work on you some more, and eventually you’ll tell me everything, but lying is not an option you have.’

  ‘He’s taken control of the movement.’ The fight seemed to have gone out of the man. Shil checked her displays and he was telling the truth. The fact that she could spot him lying seemed to have broken him. He saw no other way out. Maybe he thought she could not stop whatever was going to happen anyway. ‘A month ago there was a meeting. The other leaders wanted to shut everything down. They said things had improved. We were fighting to bring down a system which had actually resulted in a far better life in the south than anyone had in the north. Pride was one thing, but this was cutting off our own head to spite our body. Nuril said they were cowards and… and they all died. That night. Anyone who agreed with them was killed.’

  ‘Leaving Namva as the default leader of a bunch of fanatics.’

  ‘We’re not fanatics, we’re revolutionaries!’ So there was still a little fight left.

  ‘One man’s freedom fighter is another man’s terrorist, Radichan. What’s his next move?’

  ‘Revolution. He’s been putting a cache of weapons together for three years. He’s got guns, grenades, rockets, and now he’s got some heavy stuff. He’s almost ready. We’re going to move on the senate building, kill those bastards in session for the world to see, and bring them all down.’

  ‘I want to know exactly where to find him.’

  ‘Then ask someone who knows. He’s got five or six safe houses in the city. He moves around them at random.’

  ‘There have to be meetings.’

  ‘All done online. Encrypted network connections. There’s no way you can break our system.’

  Shil smiled at him and shut off the field. ‘You just keep thinking that, dumbarse.’

  ~~~

  Shil stretched, leaning back in her chair and examining the output from the software she had completed. She had been at it for twenty hours straight, but the results so far were looking good. No definite hits, but the code was detecting encrypted network tunnels and producing an analysis of the decrypted contents. It had really just been a matter of pulling together various packaged software blocks and then getting them into certain key hubs around Shophia, but she was still rather proud of her first major computer project.

  ‘You should rest, Shil,’ Cantarvey said.

  ‘I plan to.’ She began unsealing her suit as she got to her feet.

  ‘I quite like the thing your eyes are doing.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Oh, you didn’t know?’

  Frowning, Shil summoned up a mirror image, and a life-size, 3D version of herself appeared in front of her, unsealing her suit at the throat. She looked at her own face and almost did not recognise it. The hair was not her style at all. Old her’s style anyway. She had had it woven into tight cornrows over her skull and then down her back, and dyed red, but there was a pinker colour in with the scarlet, and the different shades shone in the overhead lights. She looked harder, more badass. Her eyes… Her eyes were almost glowing, a bright yellow-gold. It made them look almost cat-like, and very alien.

  ‘Oh. Well I hope that’s not permanent.’ As she said it, the glow faded and the colour went from gold to green and back to her original blue. She nodded. ‘Rayan’s eyes did the same thing just before she died. It must be some expression of Anoa. Ha! Yes. The Eyes of the Huntress. That sounds about right.’

  With her suit hung over the chair, Shil activated the bed and stepped into it. The roll-out had been dispensed with in favour of what Tarin had described as a ‘gravity hammock.’ Shil knew how it worked, roughly: the ship’s artificial gravity and some careful application of low-powered tractor-presser beams all combined to suspend the sleeper off the deck. It made better use of available space, Tarin had said, and was particularly of use in medical situa
tions where burns could be kept away from any rough surfaces. She had also mentioned something about it being especially popular with newly married veda.

  The other space-saving trick – even though the cabin itself had been expanded into the hold and space-saving was not really needed – had been the removal of the shower in favour of another high-tech marvel. Shil had been unsure about the hammock, but the cleaner swarm was getting close to a step too far.

  ‘You should not sleep in your makeup,’ Cantarvey said as she saw Shil’s brow crease at the first touch of the microscopic robots on her face.

  ‘I know. I’m just not used to this yet.’

  ‘I’m sure you will adapt.’

  There was silence as the tiny machines continued their work. Then Shil giggled. ‘They tickle.’ Then there was more silence, even if Shil was squirming a bit as the robots moved over her body. And then she gasped.

  ‘You did tell your prisoner that you were planning to fuck yourself,’ Cantarvey commented, an edge of humour in her voice. ‘It’s been over a day. Do you want to make a liar of yourself?’

  Shil squirmed as the robots continued their intimate massage. ‘I didn’t know they could do that.’

  Cantarvey giggled. She was getting better at giggling. ‘Perhaps you should read my instruction manual.’

  Shil just groaned.

  Shophia, Armilin, 22.4.943 Local.

  It had taken a little longer than expected for the software to pick up what she was looking for. The hit had been flagged late the previous evening after more than a day of searching. Namva really was security-conscious, but he was also the control freak Shil had suggested. The burst of communication traffic contained a request for immediate reports and had been replied to immediately; everyone knew they were going to be wanted and had them ready. An hour later the replies had gone out containing ridiculously detailed orders.

  The network traffic had been routed through various servers, but her software had traced it to a building on the outskirts of Shophia. The city seemed to have grown from a central core, but not exactly organically. Rings of new development spread out from the old city like tree rings. And they had not exactly been planned, more put up as needed, so there would be a residential circle with huge industrial plants filling the sky on both sides. A survey done twenty years earlier had rated Shophia the least pleasant city on the planet to live in, even though its residents all tended to fall into the upper income brackets for the world. Shil could see why.