Space Assassins: The Complete Series 1-5, page 32
“What? Oh, I was just getting some air, is all,” he replied.
It was only then that he caught a glimpse of the blue-green-skinned man watching him from the shadows at the back of the pub.
It had been a test.
Somehow, Tikoo had thought something was amiss, even though Hozark had played it entirely right, leaving no hint of his true nature. But the man had sensed something, and that was all that mattered. He was a skittish, and very wary target, and now it seemed that the constant paranoia from his many years as a Council agent had finally paid off.
The two locked eyes from across the tavern, separated by tables and patrons. Then the Fakarian bolted out the back door, while Hozark, maintaining his disguise, stumbled drunkenly out the front.
He rounded the corner as if he were about to vomit, then took off at a run as soon as he was out of sight. Hozark knew which way his target would flee, given what had just happened. And he had plotted out the fastest routes to the water’s edge when he first arrived.
A few quick turns down small side alleys shaved time off of his pursuit, and he was hot on the amphibian man’s tail in moments.
“Seal the tunnels!” Tikoo yelled to a deep-yellow-skinned man as he raced past.
The man did not hesitate, but instead took off at a run. Obviously one of his comrades in this undersea realm, he was about to cut off the only terrestrial routes to the surface.
Hozark pushed hard, but the Fakarian was a surprisingly fast runner. So fast, it seemed, that the street in front of him leading to the water’s edge was already empty. He had already made his escape. Or had he?
There was something about the water, Hozark noted as he raced closer. The water was still. As if no one had recently jumped in.
This doesn’t look right, he realized as a powerful tail lashed out from behind a vendor’s cart, striking him square in the chest and sending him tumbling backward onto the ground.
Hozark had kept a grip on his magic the entire pursuit, protecting himself, just in case. A habit that had probably just saved his life, though it felt like one of his ribs might have broken regardless.
Tikoo was already on the move as Hozark pushed himself back to his feet. With a final jump as he reached the shore, the fleeing man dove the remaining distance, disappearing into the sea.
He was in his element, his tail free of his clothing, powering him ahead through the undersea tunnel and out into the open water. The odd man, whoever he was, had been shaken loose. And with the tunnels to the surface sealed, even if he did manage to get them open, Tikoo would be long gone.
He’d have to alert the Council, though. Someone had tracked him to Kraam. And that meant they had to clean house and ferret out the loose-lipped traitor. That, and move on to one of his other safe worlds on which he could lie low until he was called to meet with his masters.
Tikoo slowed his pace once he hit the open sea, relishing the feeling of the water flowing against his body. He’d been on land too long this time, he realized. He would have to make a point to take full advantage of the waters of the next world he stopped at.
Amused with his skillful escape, the Fakarian lazily swam to shore, rising from the sea like an oceanic deity walking out of the surf line and into the seaside shantytown.
Down the long, main pathway he walked, heading toward the parked conveyances lined up near the local eateries. One of which he would steal, finalizing his escape as he headed to board a departing craft.
Tikoo turned the corner and stopped in his tracks. An intact, dry, and very annoyed man was standing in his way, blocking the path. The man he had just left under the sea. The place he couldn’t have possibly followed from.
“Impossible,” was all he managed to say before a powerful stun spell blasted him to the ground, unconscious.
* * *
“What...? Where am I?” the dazed Fakarian said as the waking spell more or less slapped him across the face.
Magically, that is.
A moment later, panic set in as his eyes opened to darkness, and he felt the restraints around his arms and legs holding him quite firmly in place. There was a blindfold over his eyes, he realized, hence the darkness, and he could tell by the weight of his clothes and how they lay on his body that every last one of his hidden weapons and magical devices was gone.
A true professional, he stopped struggling and focused his hearing. He was inside. Quiet, as well. Too quiet. He was on a ship. And there was the faintest hint of a smell.
Shit.
Just a whiff, but it was there. Only a few places on the planet smelled like that, and none of them were good. Yes. Shit. He smelled it, and he was in it. Deep.
Sitting quietly, Hozark watched the subtle microexpressions on the man’s face shift as he worked out his situation. Or so he thought. The Wampeh had abandoned his disguise and was now back to his normal coloring and attire. That of a Wampeh, and a Ghalian by the look of the weapons he chose to allow to be seen.
Hozark reached out and pulled the blindfold from the man’s eyes, allowing him a moment to adjust to the light. His underwater eyes were squinting a bit, but his land pair shifted to handle the illumination quickly, the assassin noted.
Rather than blurt out questions and beg for his release, the Fakarian shed his initial discombobulation and merely observed, quietly sitting in his seat, though on that matter he didn’t have much of a choice.
Hozark looked at him calmly for a long moment.
“You know,” he finally said, “I only wished to speak with you. There was no need for all the fuss.”
Tikoo said nothing, but he recognized who had captured him. What had him in his control. Hozark noted the subtle shift in his irises as his adrenaline flushed in spite of himself.
“I do appreciate the bit of exercise, though,” Hozark continued. “It was nice getting to have a little jog and a swim.”
Still nothing from his captive.
“There’s no need to worry. Contrary to popular belief, Wampeh Ghalian are not all about killing and torture, you know.”
“Really?” the man said, finally breaking his silence at the thin lifeline dangled in front of him.
Hozark grinned wide, his fangs sliding into place. “No. But I thought it might make you feel a little better,” he said with a frightening laugh.
He had absolutely no intention of draining the man. Nor did he intend to kill him, but the effect the sight of his fangs had on prisoners was the same regardless. But this one would live. And he might even prove to be a great source of Council information beyond this one issue at hand. But there was no need to tell him that.
“Now. Let us discuss this contract you placed, shall we?”
Chapter Forty-Five
“Well, that was a wild Bundabist chase,” Laskar grumbled as he and Bud joined up with Demelza in a small town square. “You have any better luck?”
“No,” she replied. “Though I did hear some other interesting tidbits. But Tikoo appears to be a far harder man to find than we anticipated. How did you fare atop the volcano? Any news of worth?”
“A few rumblings, a few rumors, but all in all, it was a waste of time,” Laskar said.
“Not a total waste,” Bud said with a dreamy smile.
Demelza looked at the man, perplexed. Laskar noticed her stare and let out an exasperated chuckle.
“He got lucky.”
“Repeatedly,” Bud added with a wicked grin.
“Oh. Well, then, good for you.” She turned to Laskar. “I hope you had a nice time as well. It is not as if we are in the middle of a vital fact-finding mission or anything.”
“Ha. I should be so lucky,” Laskar said, looking around the square off the beaten path that they’d chosen as their rendezvous point. “So, uh, where is he, anyway?”
“Hozark? He is at the ship,” Demelza replied.
“But that wasn’t the plan. And he didn’t skree us. Did he call you?”
“No. But he left a note for me here.”
“Where?”
“You would not see it even if I pointed it out,” she replied. “Suffice to say, Hozark awaits us at the ship.” She adjusted the small pack of supplies she had acquired during her time among the locals. “Shall we?”
Laskar and Uzabud fell in line behind her, and the trio made their way out of the city, heading back to their hidden ship. Their ship hidden in the shit.
They took a circuitous route, doubling back several times, pausing to ensure they were not being followed. But no, they were alone, and soon enough the smell of their ship’s hiding place alerted them to their proximity long before they could see it.
Or not see it, as was the case with the shimmer-cloaked craft.
They approached carefully, Demelza reaching out to ensure no wards or traps had been tripped. All was in place, as expected. She cleared the path, and they made their way to the hidden ship, then stepped inside, having first ensured they were not tracking anything foul inside on the soles of their boots.
“What the hell?” Bud blurted when they stepped into the small holding room adjacent the ship’s galley.
The others hurried in and saw what the fuss was about.
Hozark was sitting comfortably in a chair, sipping a cup of herbal tea, waiting for them. He also had Tikoo, their target, trussed up and unconscious, bound to the chair beside him.
“Hang on. You got him?” Laskar blurted. “We rode all over that stupid mountain, up and down in mists on those stupid Malooki, freezing our stupid butts off, for nothing? You didn’t even call us on your stupid skree!”
“You do seem quite fond of that word. Stupid,” Demelza noted with a grin. “It seems you and that word have a bond.”
Bud chuckled. Of course, after the time he’d had atop the volcanic mountain, not much could sour his mood. In fact, he was quite glad they’d been sent on that futile mission and would gladly head back up again with the slightest urging.
“I am sorry I did not contact you,” Hozark replied. “I was under the sea. And quite busy, as well.”
“I noticed,” Demelza said, leaning in to observe the slumbering prisoner. “A sominus spell?”
“Your instincts are correct,” he replied.
“He seems intact.”
“Yes. The man is a Council agent, but even they have their weaknesses. It only required a pathetically small amount of torture, and the threat of far more, before he was spilling everything he knew.”
Hozark paused.
“So? What does he know?” Laskar asked.
“He was a decoy,” he finally said.
“A what, now? A decoy?” Bud interjected. “Hang on. You’re saying he didn’t actually make the contract?”
“Oh, he most certainly did. Our friend here was very forthcoming about that fact. However, in the course of our ‘discussion,’ it also came to light that he was in fact hired by another party to make that contract. However, in that instance, the person hiring him let a little detail slip.”
“What kind of detail?” Bud asked.
“The kind that was most careless on that individual’s part. A casual comment was made that allowed Tikoo to become privy to a most interesting wrinkle in the job. Namely, the person who hired him was also hired by a third party.”
Bud’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. Are you saying they’re part of a daisy chain? For a freakin’ Ghalian contract? That’s insane. I...I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Nor have we,” Demelza said. “It is a firewall of deniability. Akin to a blind drop, protecting the identities of those farther up the chain. If this is true, the actual party behind the contract could be anyone.”
“Potentially,” Hozark agreed. “We most certainly have our work cut out for us. For the moment, however, we need to deliver our friend Tikoo to one of the order’s facilities for safekeeping until the Five determine what to do with him.”
“And in the meantime?” Laskar asked.
“And in the meantime, the four of us figure out what is really going on here.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Kalama was the woman’s name. The one who hired Tikoo. The one who had poor information security and had let slip that she too had been hired to pass along the contract to him. A woman with high cheekbones and curly orange hair, courtesy not of genetics, but a lot of expensive modification spells.
Tikoo had been a good Council agent. His operational skills were top-notch, and he had proven a very worthy adversary. Hozark would have caught up with him eventually, of course. He always did.
But without the help of his associates, it would have taken longer to survey Obahn, which may have led to Tikoo fleeing from Kraam before his arrival. It would have resulted in something of a wild Bundabist chase, and at the moment, time was something they did not have in abundance.
Those who were responsible for ambushing Master Prombatz and his young aspirant had things in motion, and whatever it was they were planning, there was an urgency to finding out what it was, and what could be done to stop them.
Why someone would purposely target the most deadly assassins in the galaxy was anyone’s guess. But when they were found, guesswork would not be required. The Ghalian had many, many ways of making people talk.
“You sure this is the place?” Bud asked, tugging at his high-collared coat as the four of them made their way through the largest shopping district of one of the wealthier cities on the wealthiest planet in the system.
He did not like dressing up as if he were some high-class buffoon. He had been a pirate, after all, and the world of fashion had never made much sense to him. Clothing designed by people who obviously never actually wore any of their miserably uncomfortable creations themselves.
Yet to infiltrate and fit in on this world, he, and the others, had no choice but to appear as any other casual shopper might. And that meant fashion.
Hozark and Demelza looked amazing, of course. No matter if they were clothed in the finest garb in all the land, or draped with rough cloth and covered in muck, they were masters of infiltration and disguise, and this was simply one more job.
Laskar, however, was different. He seemed quite at home in the fine threads. In fact, his attitude had even improved a bit, and his posture straightened slightly. For him, playing dress up was apparently a pleasure, though he might be wary to admit it to his rough-and-ready associate.
“We stay together for this,” Hozark had said to the group when they dropped into atmosphere. “Numbers and proximity will allow us to block any escape attempt and keep from necessitating a pursuit.”
“Good. My ass is still sore from all of that Malooki riding,” Bud said. “Running does not sound particularly appealing at the moment.”
“You sure it’s not from that little green––” Laskar started to joke.
“No. She wasn’t that sort of woman.”
“Whatever you say, Bud,” he cracked back. “Whatever you say.”
The approach to the city had been normal. No crazy maneuvers or subterfuge required. Just jumping into the system, dropping out of orbit, and landing in the immaculate, elevated docking facility. It was spotless, and even had multiple accessways leading directly to the stores and merchants.
Visitors to this city would not have to wait any longer than necessary to start spending coin if they did not wish to. And spend they did.
The opulence on display was staggering. And so too was the waste. So much spent on things, the generic of which cost a fraction of the price on other worlds. But there was social standing attached to these bits and baubles, and that commanded a premium.
And somewhere amid all of this consumerism, their target awaited them.
Kalama was a socialite. How and why she, of all people had been chosen to play a part in this twisted plot was unclear, but Hozark assured his friends the information he had acquired from Tikoo was most certainly accurate.
“The woman probably ran up some sort of debt from her spending habits,” Laskar said. “I bet getting that contract to Tikoo was offered as a way to make good on it.”
“You think?” Bud asked. “Seems kind of odd for a high-class society woman.”
“Nah, it’s not at all uncommon for that sort of thing. I mean, think about it. It’s done with gamblers in over their heads all the time, so it makes sense that the same should apply to other kinds of overindulgence and indebtedness too.”
“I have to admit, it kinda makes sense,” Bud said. “Hand off a simple message and be free of that looming obligation hanging over your head? Who wouldn’t step in and make a quick delivery for that sort of thing?”
Hozark and Demelza merely nodded their agreement as they walked, smiling and laughing, blending in with the crowd while their trained eyes scanned every face and storefront for the woman in question.
They had an address for her, and that was their destination, but the Ghalian knew full well their prey might walk right into their grasp. Literally, in some instances. But as they strolled, there was no sign of the woman on the streets.
Porters were all around them, pushing the floating conveyances loaded with the purchases of the elite. Shopping Sherpas, of a sort, but rather than mountaineering adventurers, they served a far different kind of master.
None appeared to be slaves, though, despite the Council of Twenty spreading the use of them until it was rather commonplace. In fact, all across the city, only a handful of the gleaming control collars were to be seen.
It was a bit unusual, as the owning of staff was almost the norm. But the shops seemed to have actually employed workers for the task, allowing patrons to leave their own at home.
It was a testament to just how much coin was flowing through their coffers, for owning an enslaved laborer was often cheaper than hiring one, in the long term.
Slavery had long been an issue for the Ghalian, and they had taken more than a few jobs at discounted rates when the outcome might weaken the hold of the Council’s terrible practice. They never took sides in conflicts and wars, but they did have their own agenda at times, and they would quietly work to further it.
