“You owe me and my boss, so I’ll let you go collect this bounty. I’m adding another twenty percent interest to your balance. You try to disappear, we’ll find you.”
The moment Crovax stopped speaking, the hands supporting Ivan were gone, and he fell to his knees. His pistol landed in front of him, now covered in grit, and he looked up to watch the trio head back into the bar. After the door closed, he slumped back to his butt.
Why the fuck have I been selected for a Tier-4 bounty? he wondered as he inspected the tiny, bleeding hole in his shoulder. He knew there was only one way to figure out what the hell was going on and dig himself out of this hole; he’d have to pretend to be a real bounty hunter for a change.
Bounty Hunter Orbital Platform, near Planet Saxet
The be-hop was coming into view as Ivan slumped in the passenger compartment of the taxi shuttle. He had gone home to clean up, but water was pay-to-use on Saxet. He had managed to change clothes, oil his weapon, and wipe himself off with some liquor-dampened rags. Everything that mattered to him was stuffed into a duffel he slung over his shoulder.
He had decided against shaving the unruly beard and shoulder-length black hair. The jet-black swell of hair served as a mask. Fully shaved and groomed, he looked exactly like his dead twin, Viktor. He didn’t want to see the ghost of his best friend in the mirror; that would defeat the purpose of his self-imposed isolation on Saxet.
The shuttle lurched and reminded Ivan of his earlier beat down. He tried to silence the pain by focusing on the be-hop. He’d only been there once when he received his badge.
The extent of his dealings as a bounty hunter were largely digital. Jobs came to him through his slate. Sure, he dumped prisoners at the docks of the be-hop, but only legitimate hunters went inside the structure. They would use the resources within to plan missions and securely catalogue evidence for the Peacemakers. To Ivan, those things sounded a lot like work and responsibility, two things the past had proven he should avoid.
Ivan picked dirt out from under his fingernails while he looked out the window. The orbital platform had the basic shape of a sideways cylinder, surrounded by a series of rotating rings. There were docking ports and struts for the thrusters that kept the platform solidly in the LaGrange Point. He knew other species referred to these locations by different names, but they could go to hell. Ivan was a human with roots back to Mother Earth, even if he’d been languishing on Saxet for the past several years.
The shuttle vibrated as it docked with the platform. Ivan scanned his yack to pay for the ride and was a little surprised to see the payment go through. He tried to tell himself he didn’t smell that badly while he waited for the last airlock to cycle. When it opened, he was stopped by an imposing Tier-2 hunter who was standing sentry. Everything about the mid-tier hunter was spotless, including the large rifle resting in his hands.
Tithing service, rather than credits, allowed hunters to keep even more of their earnings. These plum rent-a-cop assignments were never trusted to the un-tiered. On-duty guards wore slick, reflective face shields.
“Stop. All non-hunters are required to be escorted beyond this point,” the guard said through the robotic voice of his helmet.
Somewhat embarrassed he’d forgotten to display his badge, Ivan reached into his coat and began fumbling around. “Name’s Ivan Petrov, I’m an apprentice. I was selected for a—”
Ivan was interrupted by the guard’s muzzle poking his chest.
“Remove your hand and slowly open that ridiculous cape-looking jacket so I can see what you are reaching for,” the guard commanded.
“It’s not a cape. It’s a duster,” Ivan retorted. Frowning at his forgetfulness, he located his badge and held it out.
“This portion of the be-hop is restricted to Tier-4 hunters, apprentice. Now, run along.”
Before Ivan could say anything to make his reception worse, a large Zuul stalked up to them on all fours. Standing on its hind legs, he saw its badge had four stars above the Peacemaker crest. This indicated that the shaggy canine was a Tier-4 hunter. Ivan had seen a few Zuuls before and knew they were formidable trackers and hunters, using their dog-like senses to sniff out their prey.
“This…hunter, is reporting to me,” the Zuul said in a clearly female voice, “let him through.”
The guard responded by stepping back for Ivan to pass. Not wanting to linger, he followed the Zuul through the airlocks. The walkway opened into a larger space full of tables and Tri-V displays. Hunters crowded around tables with maps and blueprints projected in front of them. The walk quickened and up they went, at least three curving decks. Out of breath, Ivan was happy when he was pointed to a table.
“Sit,” the Zuul ordered.
Ivan took a moment to look at his guide. She had a long, angular snout and a face full of whiskers. One ear perked up as she looked back at him. Her big brown eyes were startling, and almost made him want to reach out and pet her behind the ears. Knowing that would be ill-advised, Ivan refocused.
“What the hell is this all about?” he said. “Who am I supposed to be meeting here? You?”
Instead of answering, she looked at Ivan’s badge and stalked away. Pulling the die from his pocket, he compulsively tumbled it in his hand as he glanced around. The walls were lined with glowing screens that scrolled a list of open contracts. Ivan could feel a lot of eyes lingering on him. When he returned the gazes, he saw a collection of intimidating-looking aliens in advanced combat armor, scarred and pitted from use.
Unlike mine, he thought to himself. What am I getting into?
After asking the silent question, Ivan rolled the die. Looking down, it had landed on a three. It was a non-committal response from Viktor.
“Really, brother? You don’t have any advice for me?” Ivan whispered.
Padding on all fours, the Tier-4 Zuul returned and sat on the table edge in front of him. She looked curiously at the die on the table.
“It seems you really are Ivan Petrov, just with significantly more fur than your old picture reflects. My name is Boudicca, and I’m the reason you’re here. The Peacemakers have given me the authority to offer you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to crawl out the miserable pit you’ve dug. You’ll be able to clear your debts and wipe some of the grime off your reputation. Are you interested?”
“Interested in what,” Ivan asked. “What could you need from me?”
“We need someone to fit a certain role. You’re the only hunter dumb enough to get into bed with a Bizon Syndicate bookie. At first I thought you were working an inside angle; it appears this is not the case.”
“I’m in debt to a weasel over at Luck of the Draw. When did the Bizons come into play?” Ivan asked in disbelief.
Boudicca burst into laughter. “How can you be a hunter and not know the cantina is a front?”
“Having a suspicion and giving a shit are two different things. Regardless, I’m un-tiered so that’s all above my paygrade,” Ivan tossed the die into his pocket. “I just do this hunter thing to clear the bills.”
“Guess what, apprentice, it’s time to pop your smelly ass out of the stands and back into the game. This is a one-time offer. If you don’t take it, the guild will probably arrest you to leverage the access they need.”
“Well, I mean, how many credits are we talking about?” Ivan replied.
“If you plan on accepting, follow me to my ship. If not, wait here and security will gather you up shortly.”
Boudicca stood and walked away. Ivan, forced to commit, jumped up to follow.
RNS Mabinogion, near Planet Saxet
The shuttle ride to Boudicca’s ship was silent. The furry, plus-sized pup didn’t seem to be a conversationalist. Ivan passed the time looking at the ship they were destined for. The vessel was a slate-gray color, like bare metal, with fading neon-green accents. Oddly, some of the paint seemed to form a racing stripe down the length of the ship.
What a dumb color scheme for a ship, he thought.
A
s he stared, focusing more closely on the gracefully conical shape of the craft, he realized it was an Old Republic destroyer. He vaguely remembered seeing images of them while he and his brother were still kids back on Earth.
“It’s the RNS Mabinogion, one of the Olwen Class destroyers,” Boudicca said to his unspoken question. “We call her ‘The Mab’ for short. She’s a relic, but she still has a few tricks up her sleeve.”
“I know the feeling,” said Ivan.
“Unlike you, she doesn’t run on stale booze and wisecracks,” she replied. “We’re headed there to get you out of those rags and into something practical. We’ve a small side mission to complete; otherwise, the guild can’t officially make you an apprentice bounty hunter.”
“But my badge changed. There’s a little A under my name, now. Doesn’t that mean I’m already an apprentice?”
“Right now, your tier jump is interim. You must complete a supervised apprentice-level contract before it’s official. If you aren’t a confirmed apprentice, the Peacemaker Guild specifications of the Tier-4 contract can’t be fulfilled, and then nobody gets paid.”
“Okay, so what’s this side mission?” Ivan asked
“Just an escort mission. We pick up some prisoners here, take them there—even you can’t foul it up.”
Ivan wanted to ask for more information, but any further questions were cut short as Boudicca announced they were about to begin final docking procedures. Not wanting to lose his lunch in front of her, he closed his eyes and waited for the all clear. Surprisingly, instead of coupling to the side of the vessel, as was the norm, the shuttle glided gently into a hangar bay.
Ivan imagined the large hangar bay doors making loud clanking noises as they slid shut. With the shuttle on the deck, and the pressure re-establishing itself, Boudicca powered down.
“Move your feet,” Boudicca said as she activated the magnetic boots she had donned.
Ivan mimicked her actions and followed behind.
“We’ll go to the quarters I’ve assigned you and then straight to medical.”
“Medical? I’m fit as a fiddle,” he protested, still unsure where his father had got that expression.
“Nevertheless, the contract requires we verify all parties are of sound mind and body. When the contract says you do it, you do it.” She stopped in her tracks and looked Ivan straight in the eyes before continuing. “As long as you’re not too drunk, you should be okay. If you fail, we wipe the results, flush your system, and do it again. You will pass this physical.”
Not another word was said until they reached the end of a winding series of passageways. The entire trip was strange, as he expected to run into a crew of some sort. The mag-boots he had slipped into on the shuttle were already wearing his legs out. Boudicca stopped abruptly, and Ivan ran into her back. Growling, she turned and stared him down until he backed up, offering his hands to show his good will.
“These are your quarters, drop your garbage inside.”
He rushed inside the space. There was a bed, a locker, a sink, and a toilet. He placed his duffel bag in a locker and couldn’t help but notice what looked like an enclosed shower cabinet in the corner. Awestruck, he stepped toward it.
“Yes, it works. And yes, you will be rinsing your hindquarters when we’re done in medical. The air scrubbers have to work hard enough without your stench taxing them more. You might shear your face as well. Let’s move.”
Ivan wanted to jump for joy. Instead, he followed his new boss. The little room she had just given him was infinitely better than the seedy hole he called home on Saxet. And a shower, too. It’d been a lot of years since he experienced something like that.
They walked through another series of passageways, this time encountering a crew member. Not able to identify the species, Ivan made space for it to pass and continued after Boudicca. She stopped at a hatch and motioned for him to enter. Following behind him, she addressed what appeared to be an autonomous medical device.
“Medical Unit 12 Alpha, perform standard apprentice physical diagnostic. Patient name, Ivan Petrov. Scan his badge into the system.”
The machine, which looked like a trashcan with arms, responded with a series of beeps. Boudicca waved her paw toward a gurney, and he drifted down and strapped himself to it. His heart thumped faster as the gurney vibrated, then pulled him into a tunnel where he was scanned.
“You idiot,” she growled as his gurney pushed back out of the scanning tube, “your bookie put a tracker in you. How’d you not know he slipped one into your arm?”
Rubbing the puncture wound on his shoulder, he shrugged.
“I noticed the delivery tool. Just didn’t know there was a tracker. Trust me, if I could have stopped them, I would have. It was three on one. Plus, I may have been a little drunk.”
“You are shaping up to be the worst apprentice I’ve ever had. Regardless, I can make your mistake work for us, later. Meet me in the armory in one hour so we can get you some gear. First, go take a shower and clean up. Once we’ve got you looking halfway respectable, we’ll pick up the prisoners and their guard contingent and get this qualifying contract out of the way.”
* * *
Ivan sat in the Mab’s armory, performing daily maintenance on his gear as they headed back to Saxet. The weeks he’d spent playing nursemaid to the jailers weren’t sexy or fun, but he’d earned twice what he owed Crovax on this one jaunt. Not that he planned on paying the runt.
He’d also scored some new gear and was officially advanced to apprentice, which he was sure would impress the ladies at the cantina.
Before he started cleaning his pistol, he habitually removed his brother’s die from his inside pocket and released it into the air. The die was made of magnetic metal, and after it spun weightless for a few moments, Ivan knocked it toward the table. It clicked loudly as it stuck to the surface.
“I know I cleaned it yesterday,” he muttered quietly as he disassembled the pistol and placed it on the mag-lock portion of the table. “I feel like I’m pretending to be a merc again. That didn’t work out for us so well last time, did it, Viktor?”
“Why is it you speak to a speckled cube when no one is looking?”
Ivan jumped at Boudicca’s sudden intrusion, then he scooped the die from the tabletop and re-pocketed it.
“Talking to inanimate objects is unnerving,” she continued. “Despite this concern, your performance on the last mission was outstanding.”
Ivan chuckled. “Most of my un-tiered bounties have been prisoner transports, so I’m not out of practice. This one was just a little longer than my normal contracts.”
Boudicca approached the area where he was tethered and pulled a pistol component from the mag-lock to inspect it. She smiled, revealing her white canines, and placed it back.
“Your record indicates you were a formidable warrior when you were hairless of face. Why did you leave mercenary work?”
Turning to address the dog-faced whelp, Ivan was startled. He didn’t see judgment in her expression; instead, there was curiosity, or perhaps even concern, which put him at ease.
“You probably know this already, but for humans to be selected for mercenary work, we must take a test called the Voluntary Off-World assessments, or VOWs. My twin brother Viktor, he did better on the VOWs than anyone for our cycle. I barely passed. He could’ve gone anywhere he wanted, but he compromised so we could stay together.”
Ivan swallowed as he pulled the die from his pocket and held it in his hand.
“Slowly, I got better. No matter how good I was, everything was a competition between me and Viktor.”
He let go of the die and let it float in the air. This was a conversation he never got to have with anyone that mattered. Boudicca reached for the silver-colored cube, paused, and looked at him. He nodded that it was okay and pretended to clean the worn surface of his pistol’s magazine well while she looked at the die.
“The die was both of ours. When there wasn’t a spot for both of us on a m
ission, we would roll it to determine who got to go. The day he was…lost, he won the roll.”
Boudicca placed the die on the table with care.
“My father was already lonely and depressed when we left. We were all he had. When he found out about Viktor, it was too much. He killed himself. I lost everyone I loved in a span of weeks. I never went back to Earth, and I got out of the merc business. If it wasn’t for me, Viktor would have gone to a top-notch company. Hell, he’d probably be running it by now.”
He reached out and took the die and put it back into his pocket. Boudicca ran a finger along the scar on her face and turned toward the hatch.
“I know what it is to lose your pack,” she said. “We can only honor them with our future actions.”
Before he could respond, she was gone. Regardless, he felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Things were starting to look up.
Luck of the Draw Cantina, Planet Saxet
The sandstorms made it a rough shuttle ride to the surface of Saxet, but Ivan was happy to suffer through it. The credits he had accumulated from the transport job were burning a hole in his yack, and he needed to unload some of them. After being stuck on the Mab so long, he also needed to blow off some steam.
Combat tactics and weapons drills, weapons drills and combat tactics; this had been his life for the last two weeks. Ivan understood the need to train, but weeks spent sparring with an overzealous pup weren’t going to change things that much. Despite the pace Boudicca kept, the clean room, shower, credits, and gear she provided made up for it.
He smiled as the shuttle touched down.
“Do you need to go to your home for anything before we begin?” she asked as they disembarked. “Once we initiate contact with your bookie it may be a while before we can return.”
For a Few Credits More: More Stories from the Four Horsemen Universe (The Revelations Cycle Book 7) Page 15
