Chapter 9 - FedSec

Stardust Nightclub

Ironbound District, Novaterra, Union of Federated Systems

Sunday, 16 September 3488

            Xanthe didn’t catch a single word that Aves was saying, her attention still stolen by the disgust which she felt. The more and more she thought about it, the more and more confident she became that the face which Maro had shown was indeed that same deacon from St. Stephen’s. The thought of that man – currently in training to take on perhaps the most important job this side of eternity – wrapped up in this whole mess brought nothing but discomfort to Xanthe as her mind worked further and further down the trail of thought. She began to wonder if perhaps Lor Nevas himself was this ‘new boyfriend’ whom Euphemia had run off with, and how that would complicate the matter. It would surely solve the many of their pressing questions, most of all why Euphemia was so tight-lipped about this, even to her close friends.

            No Lord, anything but that. A light chill seemed to waft into the room at that very idea, and she shivered as it became more and more attractive to her imagination. Xanthe felt so small as she continued down that track. While perhaps not quite the horrific scandal which would have erupted if a fully ordained priest had gotten himself involved in something like this, there was still something disorienting about the thought. The scandal drove much too close to home for Xanthe, as she imagined someone from her safe world of Christianity wrapped up in a seedy club like this. Images of long-since suppressed terrors began filling Xanthe’s mind, and she was ready to curl up and burst into tears when a hand fell on her arm.

            “Hey!” Came the insistent hiss of Aves’ voice. Xanthe, who jumped at the sudden touch, yanked her arm away and was about to yell him, telling him to mind his own business, when she caught the serious and tight look in his brown eyes. It was a look she had seen on Tobias many times over the years, when the former soldier slipped back into his military mindset at the sensing of some sort of danger. Now Aves held this same look and was surreptitiously nudging his head to indicate the direction behind him. “We have unwelcome company. Drayen and Human, my eight o’clock.”

            It didn’t take Xanthe too long to see what he was indicating. The Drayen woman from before, the one whom had gained the interest of the Human man Lewis whom Xanthe had been socializing with earlier in the evening, was currently stalking her way across the dance floor. Tall and slender, the pale-skinned being was running dark eyes over the entire club. Behind her was a sturdy Human man with dark hair and tanned features, following closely. All thoughts of Lor Nevas and the terrors which accompanied that vanished in an instant as she regained focus on the situation on hand. “Who are they?” She asked.

            Aves shrugged. “No idea, but they were speaking with Andara over at the bar. She directed them to Maro.”

            Xanthe bit her lip. “You think they’re looking for us?”

            “Or they’re also interested in Euphemia,” Aves suggested. “Either way, it’s time to go.”

            Xanthe looked around the club. A particularly popular song from the band Rings of Nevarr had just come on, and a whole new crowd had appeared on the dance floor. Nobody seemed to notice as the Drayen and Human crossed the dance floor, gently forcing their way through the crowd. It was clear they had no interest in dancing. “Alright, let’s go.” She went to stand, but Aves’ hand fell to her arm. She quickly yanked it away, again. “Will you quit it with that?”

            Aves turned one of his ‘annoyed’ looks on her. “Can you sit still for five minutes? We need to play this one cool; we can’t just walk out the front door.”

            Xanthe reluctantly sat back down. “For a man who doesn’t know the first thing about subtlety, you’re awfully insistent about being strategical tonight.” She waved a hand towards his waist. “What’s your plan? Challenge them to a duel with that sword of yours?”

            Aves’ hand fell to the hilt of his kantsukai blade, which he had angled in such a way as to allow for comfortable sitting. “Your sarcasm aside, I hardly think that it’ll help our cause if I go leap at them with a weapon. I was thinking something stealthier.”

            Xanthe motioned to the crowd. “Well then, here’s an idea: there’s probably six hundred people in here; if we just walk out, nobody will notice. If we continue to wait, then Maro will point out exactly where we are.” The Drayen was practically at the Quorthwar now, meaning that their time was quickly running out.

            Aves turned an eye back towards the club, seeming to take some care to keep his gaze from looking too obvious. He did a poor job of it as per usual, practically telescoping his interest in the Drayen and her companion. Xanthe was about to remark on this point when Aves spoke. “Okay, fine.” He said. “Let’s do it your way.”

            Taking the lead, Aves got out of the booth, and motioned for her to follow. They both began making their way towards the main entrance far to the left side of the club, taking care to weave in and out of the crowds pressing in about them. They slid past where Maro and his female friends were still engaged in their sensual dance, cleanly avoiding both his and the Drayen woman’s attention. They were perhaps a third of the way to the exit when Xanthe hazarded a glance back towards that group, in order to assess how much more time they had. It was ultimately a bad call, as she immediately locked eyes with Maro’s Dorylaetian friend. The young woman turned a sour look on Xanthe, raising a single finger right at her. She said something to grab the attention of Maro, who was now speaking with the Drayen. The Quorthwar’s face lit up into that stupid grin he had, and he nodded in their direction. Without another word, the Drayen woman began making her way towards them. From how casually the woman’s hand fell to the exaggerated angular bulge at her hip, Xanthe knew she was about to produce a gun. “Borkslart!” Xanthe cursed. “We got a problem.”

            Aves stopped short, and Xanthe almost ran into him. “Make that two.” He said, pointing towards the entrance. Xanthe looked, and her heart dropped when she saw that the doorway was currently guarded by the Human man, who was also looking directly in their direction.

            “Well, it looks like your sword still won’t help us here,” Xanthe said. She grabbed Aves’ arm and rushed off to their right, squeezing past a couple currently sharing a dance. Ignoring the annoyed curses which flew after them, she began to drag Aves along as they made their way across the club floor. It took all her effort not to catch a foot on the hem of her dress, feeling that a fall at this point wouldn’t be great for their escape. 

            “Let me guess,” Aves grunted, the annoyance clear in his voice. “You have a new idea.” It wasn’t a question.

            Truthfully her only instinct was to clear the dance floor as quickly as possible, but when her eyes locked on a side hallway, her answer was true. “Yes!”

            Stealing another unwise look backwards, Xanthe saw the Drayen and Human closing the distance as quickly as they could, practically shoving people out of their way. That encouraged Xanthe to transition from brisk hustle to full on sprint. What she didn’t account for was the Parfful waitress who had appeared in front of her as she returned to face forward, and it was all she could do to dance around the being, slamming into the tray along the way. The sound of shattered glass was joined with the metal tray bouncing across the floor, gaining them much unwanted attention.

            “Watch it!” Cried the Parfful, who neither Xanthe nor Aves halted to pay any attention to as they kept moving. The side hallway was coming closer, and the possibility of a side exit or way to double back to the main entrance was their only hope.

            “Any guesses as to who our new friends are?” Xanthe asked, as Aves came up beside her.

            “Impossible to say,” Aves called back, his voice a staccato between breaths. “I wonder if they go to church at St. Stephen’s too.”

            Xanthe shot him a look, as she was forced to think about Lor Nevas again. “That isn’t funny!”

            They reached the side hallway, it immediately forking to both the left and right. Thinking fast, they chose the leftmost path. By some divine miracle, an exit door stood at the junction of the next two hallways. It took them little time for them to reach it, Aves charging the door at speed, expecting to crash right through it and onto the street beyond. Instead, he came to a sudden halt, as the door gave a little but didn’t substantially budge.

            “Damn it!” He yelled, ramming his shoulder into it again. The door again gave perhaps a few centimeters or so, before getting stuck. Aves reached his hand through the small opening, pulling a chain back inside. “What sort of madman chains an exit from the outside?”

            Xanthe looked back, just in time to see the Drayen and Human, reunited at the last junction. Their pursuers looked in both directions, immediately seeing them. The Drayen yelled something at them Xanthe didn’t catch, she instead turning to Aves and helping him shoulder the door a third time, hoping that the chain was weak enough to snap under their combined weight. They had no such luck, however, and they were left in the hallway, with trouble closing fast.

            “I don’t believe this,” Aves grumbled, practically ripping his sword from it sheathe. The curved blade, thin with a dazzling metallic sheen, caught all of the lights as Aves raised the blade in dramatic pose, seeming ready to start hacking at the chain. He was nearly at the top of his arc when a loud snapping sound exploded in the hallway. Xanthe didn’t need to see the sudden melted hole appear in the door to know the sound of a gunshot, and as three more cracks erupted, she practically shoved Aves towards the cover of the perpendicular hallway. He yelled at her but didn’t argue when Xanthe began to sprint again.

            “I nearly had that!” Aves called, replacing his blade into its scabbard.

            “We’d both be dead before that chain gave,” Xanthe pointed out. “So unless you can get within striking range of one of those two…”

            “If I hear one more sword quip…” His voice trailed off when two more cracks erupted at them, Xanthe missing where either landed, as Aves took the initiative to shove her to the right, down into a side hallway. This caused Xanthe to trip over one side of her dress, and she began tottering as she struggled to stay upright. Aves’ hand on her shoulder steadied her.

            “Careful!” He ordered. “I can’t have you falling on me!”

            Xanthe sneered, grabbing a handful of the silky fabric, and hiking it up a few centimeters above the ground. “I’d like to see you try running in this thing!”

            “I’ll pass,” He grunted. “I hope this hallway doubles back to the dance floor,” Aves said, a twinge of hollow hope to his voice. “Maybe we can give them the run-around.”

            “I have a bad feeling that it doesn’t,” Xanthe added, mentally calculating their trajectory. They were headed in the exact opposite direction from where the dance floor was.

            “A shining ray of optimism, aren’t you?” Aves asked.

            “You aren’t exactly one to talk!”

            As they made their way down this dimly-lit hallway Xanthe tried to look for some other solution. On either side of the hallway were various doors, with labels for the factory-related functions which had once been accessible in days long gone. They passed rooms with the faded words ‘hydraulics’ and ‘mechanical repair’ stenciled onto them, neither of which were of particular use to them at that moment. “We need a better plan,” She said.

            Aves let out a mirthless laugh. “It seems you’re the queen of coming up with stellar ideas tonight, I’m all ears if you can get us out of this mess!” He exclaimed. Ignoring his sarcasm, Xanthe kept looking for something – anything – that may be of use as they heard a shout from the opposite end of their hallway, where a snarl of a female voice ordered them to stop, apparently electing diplomacy instead of murder this time. Ignoring it, they turned the next corner.

            Xanthe, hope dwindling, turned her eyes to the ceiling, peering beyond. Saint Anthony, I could really use some help finding a way out of here…

            No sooner had the prayer left her mind than a sudden glint in the ceiling caught her gaze. Her eyes had adjusted to the poor lighting of this specific hallway at just the right moment to allow her to catch sight of a bulky metal duct running the length, spurring a realization in her mind. The duct was that of the old environmental regulation systems, from some distant age when the building had been constructed. Build in that ancient style, these environmental ducts were perhaps a half meter tall and meter wide, allowing a small enough person to crawl through with some effort. These old systems always connected to the outside at some point, which meant that there was a good chance that they could use the ducts as an escape from the building, and hopefully without getting spotted.

            “Wait!” She cried. “I have an idea!” She kept eyes locked on the environmental duct, figuring that the ventilation room couldn’t be too far.

            “I hope it’s a good one,” Aves replied.

            “I think it is,” Xanthe replied. They came to yet another intersection in the hallways, and Xanthe led Aves down the one which followed the duct.

            “I could use a little more than ‘think’ right now!” Overhead, the duct angled right suddenly, through the wall and into a room whose door was below. On it were the large, faded words ‘Environmental Systems’.

            “I have a feeling you’re not going to appreciate it.” She pushed open the door, hurrying inside the dark room and shutting the door behind them. Almost immediately, they were shrouded in darkness.

            “You’re right, I don’t,” Aves replied. A sudden bluish-white light appeared, revealing him. It was the glow of the tactical torch he always carried.

            “At least we came prepared for something,” Xanthe commented.

            Aves moved over towards the back of the room, where the aged, broken environmental apparatus lie. “Why do I get the feeling your plan is to crawl through the vents?”

            Xanthe grabbed hold of the grating covering a meter-wide opening into the vent. The grating, only held by two long-since rusted screws, snapped off without much effort. She gently placed it down on the floor next to them. “Because you’d be correct.”

            Aves sigh, flashing his light inside the shaft. “Are you sure this thing is wide enough?”

            Xanthe nodded. “These old factories use ancient ventilation techniques, because of how old and cheaply built they are. It’ll be a tight fit, but I’ve done this before.” She recalled several times – both since joining up with the Nicodemus crew and even before – that she had needed to make a quick escape and had the luck of being in a structure with ducts as wide as these.

            “From the looks of things, when they made this place a club they stopped using the outdated system and installed a more modern one,” Aves pointed out. “Which means that these ducts haven’t been maintained in decades. Or even centuries.”

            Xanthe started climbing in. “If you’d rather go give yourself up to our new friends or try sword fighting your way out of this…” Aves grumbled at her insult, but didn’t respond. As she got inside the duct, she saw that it was indeed a tight fit, and took advantage of the darkness to decrease some of her proportions, reverting to her natural Quorthwenne form, which would make this task a whole lot easier. “You ready?”

            “If we die in here, you better put in a good word with that Saint Peter of yours. If I end up in Hell because of you…” She looked back to see Aves in the small sliver of light, unlatching the sword from his belt and holding it in one hand.

            Xanthe grimaced. “I wouldn’t joke about that.” The whole vent creaked as Aves entered behind her.

            “Would it kill you to have a bit of a sense of humor about this?” Aves asked. He tapped her on the side, thankfully indicating that she didn’t need to answer his last question. “Mind holding the torch?” Xanthe took it and illuminated their way forward. As they began moving, the vent creaked and groaned under their weight, each sound sending a stab of apprehension through Xanthe that the duct was about to give way. Nevertheless, it seemed to be holding somewhat steadily, and they pressed forward with just barely enough room for them to crawl on their hands and knees, taking great pains for them to make any progress. Still, she knew this was to be their best chance at getting out of here, and they couldn’t turn back.

            “It’s a good thing Theck didn’t come,” Xanthe said, imagining that the large man might have gotten a single arm in the vent, and nothing more. “He’d never have done this.”

            “If Theck was here, then we would have been able to muscle our way through those two goons.” Aves pointed out. A chuckle. “I’d love to see even that big Human guy try and go head-to-head with Theck.”

            Xanthe smiled. Theck was nearly as tall as a Ruutharii, as silent as a monk, and – when he did speak – as simple in his speech as a child. Yet he wasn’t one to be trifled with. “You should have seen him take on two Krykrids at once.”

            “He took on…surely you’re joking!”

            “Nope,” Xanthe replied. She recalled the event, where an escape from a Ruutharii cargo ship had gone bad, and Theck had to go toe-to-toe with two of the Ruutharii’s large, salmon-skinned, four-armed, and tough bodyguards. Krykrid society had been built on warfare until the Ruutharii had conquered them, and those who hadn’t been killed became lackeys of the brittle-boned Ruutharii. “Ask him about it sometime. He’s a bit shy when it comes to his exploits, but it was a story worth telling.”

            There was a sudden loud creak which echoed through the duct, to which Xanthe gasped. Both halted, waiting for the inevitable to happen and for them to go crashing down to their impending doom. When a minute or two passed and that didn’t happen, Xanthe allowed herself to start breathing again.

            “Did I mention how bad of an idea this was?” Aves asked, once they had gained the courage to continue.

            “Yes. Very clearly.” Xanthe replied. Toning down their speed to a slower pace, they continued forward, Xanthe gingerly turned around a corner.

            “How much farther do you think this thing goes on for?” Aves asked. Xanthe clicked off the light torch, plunging them back into darkness. As her eyes adjusted, Xanthe could start and see the dull glow of light emanating from around some other corner several meters in front of them. With luck, their exit.

            “Not too much farther,” She replied. Turning the torch back on, they continued towards where the glow had been. The sound of club music – having transitioned from Rings of Nevarr to something more mellow – had long since faded into a dull thump and seemed to be getting softer as they moved, which indicated that the direction they were heading was away from the dance floor, thus precluding the dull glow as coming from there. They turned that next corner, and with a jolt of excitement, Xanthe saw a single grate covering what was very clearly an alleyway outside. They made their way over to it, taking care with each creak of the vent to keep from making any moves that could prove fatal. Once at the end, Xanthe went to push the grate out of place, but a combination of her bad angle and firmness of the grating against the outside of the vent prevented it from budging.

            “Don’t tell me,” Aves said. “It’s stuck.”

            Xanthe went to force it again, to which it shook a bit, but held firm. She sigh. “I need just a little more pressure.”

            “If there was a way for me to get past you, I’d give it a good kick. Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s possible. Do you think my blade would help you?”

            Xanthe considered that. There may be a bit more force she could exert with the bottom of the hilt, but there still wasn’t quite enough room to maneuver a long instrument like the sword inside the vent. What she really needed was her foot, and a good solid kick. She tried to turn herself around in the confined space, but realized that in her current form, that would be impossible.

            With a groan, she realized there was only one way to do this. “I have an idea, but it’s going to be a bit tricky.” And painful, she didn’t add. It would involve trying to shrink her limbs down further than they would want, followed by dislocating several joints. “I’m going to need you to close your eyes, though.”

            “You’re kidding,” Aves replied. “Stuck in here, on the run, and you’re still sensitive about someone watching you shapeshift?”

            “Do you want to get out of here, or not?” Xanthe asked. She didn’t add that their pursuers were likely about to figure out the truth, if they hadn’t already.

            “Fine.” Aves replied. “Eyes closed; just don’t do something we’ll both regret.”

            Taking a deep breath, Xanthe willed her left arm and right leg to shrink, the limbs complying right until the action ran down to the bone. This was the point where her abilities came to their natural end, anything beyond this only going to cause her pain. Counting to three and saying a silent prayer, Xanthe forced her shoulder and knee joints to snap out of place, a searing pain getting caught as a grunt in her throat. She slowly managed to use the leeway gained to turn herself around. Next, she had to do the same to her right arm, the pop out of place coming at the same time that she fell to her stomach in the opposite direction, now legs-first and staring at Aves. To the man’s credit he indeed had his eyes squeezed shut, and head turned away.

            “Can I look, now?” He asked, an unamused tone to his voice.

            “Almost…” Xanthe breathed, the word itself coming out with some effort. Counting to three again, she muttered an Ave Maria as she snapped each of the dislocated joints back into place. The words “ora pro nobis” came out with a grunt and a grimace, but the pain quickly subsided as she managed to finish the prayer. Xanthe used her new position to kick at the grate, and as expected the metal cracked under the increased force, clattering onto the alley floor below. With an exhale of tension she immediately started inching herself backward, climbing out of the vent and gently coming to rest on the ground.

            “Are we good?” Came Aves’ echo from inside.

            Xanthe looked to end of the alleyway. Nobody was in sight, as far as she could tell. “Yep.” Aves came crawling out of the same vent, awkwardly coming to rest on his feet beside her.

            “You’re pink again, I see.” He then gave her a queer look and pointed at her shoulder. “Your arm supposed to look like that?” Xanthe looked down to see that while her shoulder was back in place, her arm was still morphed to a strange shape. She hadn’t even noticed. Turning her eyes up at Aves, he sigh and turned around. “Not looking; I get it.”

            It took a simple shift of the arm and a dull popping sound to fix the issue. “Which way to the speeder, anyway?”

            Aves looked down to his wrist, where his holodisplay had appeared. On it was a general map of the area, with a blinking dot where they had left the speeder. “It’s about a block away.” He replied, pointing to the far end of the alleyway. “That way.” They hurried in the direction, moving at a slow jog, just in case they ran into their pursuers. Returning to the main street at the front of the club, they were pleased to see neither, just a crowd of people massed at the front, each getting checked for weapons by the bouncer.

            Xanthe frowned. “Strange they let the Drayen woman in with a gun.”

            “I’m going to guess that they weren’t common thugs.” Aves said.

            “You’re saying they knew someone on the inside?” Xanthe asked. They came within sight of their airspeeder, parked halfway down the street.

            “That’s the only way I can imagine they got inside,” Aves agreed.

            At that moment, an insight came to Xanthe. “I didn’t get a good look at the gun, but I’m pretty sure the Drayen was using a Union Model 55. They don’t make those for civilian use.”

            They reached the speeder. “So, two operators with military training.” Aves rubbed his chin. “Very interesting. Another of Partash Vess’ tricks, maybe?”

            Xanthe shook her head. “The Captain was pretty sure he had finally told us everything after visiting his apartment. He mentioned that his boss’s bodyguard, Meera Trepko, was looking into Ranshal Korgwesh’s disappearance, but nothing about any military-trained types.”

            “Two of Trepko’s friends, then?” Aves got into the driver’s seat of the speeder, and Xanthe the passenger’s side. He reached for the switch which controlled the long-distance comms channel. “Best let the rest of the crew know what’s going on.” Aves flicked the switch and Xanthe didn’t hear the expected *click* in her ear which would have indicated that the channel was open “Strange,” He said, switching it back and forth once. Nothing.

            Xanthe’s shoulders dropped. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

            Aves then went to turn on the speeder. The vehicle sputtered once, then died. “Oh no, I don’t believe…” He then reached under the dashboard, prying back the panel which housed the speeders’ electrical components. With half-expected horror, Xanthe saw that the entire board had been badly damaged, as if someone had taken a crude blade to the entire thing. 

            “Haetchfwerr,” She hissed. “They took care of our vehicle before going after us in the club.”

            “That’s impossible,” Aves said, sorting through the cut wires, trying to see if any were salvageable. “They were asking about us, which implies they didn’t know about us going in.”

            “Be that as it may, someone gutted our ride.” Xanthe pointed out. “I guess we’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot.” She turned and reached behind the seat, where she foolishly hadn’t stashed a pistol, but instead a stun baton. “I think I saw a tram station on the way in. If we made it over there we could…” She stopped suddenly, having caught sight of something unwelcome through the speeder’s back window. At the end of the street, where they had just come from, a single tall figure was slowly making its way towards them. Xanthe didn’t even need to make out the pale skin and long, dreadlocked hair to know who it was. “Uh, Aves?”

            “Tram station, I got it,” Aves replied. He was now angled in such a way that his head was under the dashboard, as he tried to reconnect wires and fix some of the damage.

            “Aves, you better see this.” The figures was swiftly closing the distance, Xanthe now able to clearly see the gun at the Drayen woman’s hip. But where’s her companion?

            “One second. If I can just get the battery hooked back into the main console, I can…”

            “Garrick!” Xanthe shouted. Aves shot up at the sound of his first name, slamming his head against the console.

            “Damn!” He shouted, rubbing the wound. “How many times do I have to tell you not to use my name!”

            “I’ll gamble for one more if it gets your attention,” Xanthe snapped back. “Our friend is back!” Aves did look and swore.

            “Only one this time,” He said, eyes tracking down to his sword. Aves seemed to think better of it – surely the woman would be able to fire before they even got within a few meters. “Maybe that tram station is a good idea, after all.”

            They both got out of the speeder, Aves awkwardly re-clipping the sword to his belt as they sprinted in the opposite direction. Xanthe pocketed the stun baton. “What I wouldn’t give for a pistol, right now.”

            “If I’m remembering correctly, it was your idea we leave them on the ship.”

            “It’s a nightclub!” Xanthe insisted. “How was I supposed to know we’d be pursued?”

            “Whatever. Which way is this tram station of yours?”

            It was in that moment that Xanthe was reminded – with particular distaste – that the idea had only just come to her, and that she had absolutely no idea which way that place had been. As she stared up at the ruined factories and warehouses which lined these streets, she saw that none looked familiar. “I guess it’s too late to ask you to check on that?”

            Aves swore again. “If we get out of this I swear, I’m never going…” He wasn’t able to finish the thought, as a sudden fist materialized out of nowhere, slamming him right in the jaw. The man stumbled at the unexpected hit, crashing against the side of the speeder and sliding to the floor.

            “Aves!” Xanthe cried, going to rush to his side. She was only stopped when catching sight of the large figure who had stepped out from her blind spot. A metallic glint revealed a pistol – Model 55, just like she thought – pointed right at her.

            “One more move missy, and you’ll be a lot worse off than him.” The voice, low and unassuming, Xanthe now saw belonged to the Human who had been pursuing them. Xanthe froze, stun baton in hand, eyes darting from the barrel of that gun to Aves, writhing on the ground.

            The Talosian grunted a curse, massaging his jaw. He began to move slowly, hand falling to the hilt of his sword. He seemed poised to take advantage of the Human’s focus on Xanthe, when the second member of the duo hurried up next to them. Her Model 55 was out and trained on Aves in seconds. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” She said, a husky tone to her voice. Xanthe caught Aves expression, a tight mask of frustration. She looked back up and down the street, only to see that there wasn’t another person in sight. They had unwisely picked an empty street to park their speeder and were about to pay the price for that stupidity.

            “We have a few questions to ask you two. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” The Human said. For the first time, Xanthe was able to get a good look at their two assailants. The man was relatively young, well-fit and built to be formidable. He lacked the hardened look of someone who was familiar with mercenary work, however, his definition speaking more to someone who worked out for sport and not work. What struck Xanthe as particularly strange, however, was the look in his eyes. Despite the tensing of his muscles and tight expression in his face – not to mention the gun currently trained on Xanthe – there was something unfocused in his green eyes, lacking the keen concentration of other mercenaries she’d come across over the years.

            The Drayen too had this queer look in her dark eyes, her countenance driving even more of a wedge between what was expected and what was reality. When Xanthe had first caught her face from across the club, it seemed youthful and beautiful. Now, however, she could see that most of that was due to a well-sculpted mask of makeup. The lines of age and worn, pockmarked skin which could be seen up close aged the woman greatly. She had more of the look of a beggar – beaten and worn – than a mercenary.  

            “I’m not really in the mood to talk,” Aves replied, his voice an icy chill.

            “Hard way, then.” The Human replied with a strangely-shaped grin.

            “Very well,” The Drayen waved her gun in Aves direction. “Get up. And give me that weapon. Slowly.” 

            “Make me,” Aves gritted out, defiantly. His eyes flicked in Xanthe’s direction for a split second. It was so quick as to be barely perceptible, but Xanthe caught the glint all the same, causing her stomach to drop as she eyed the pistol trained in her direction. She knew that look in Garrick Aves, and knew he was about to make some sort of move. And he says I’m the one who doesn’t think before I act… Focused on the gun trained at her, Xanthe silently said a prayer that Aves wouldn’t get them both killed.

            “I said get up,” The Drayen bit out, reaching down and going for the Talosian. It was a rather stupid move on her part, as she needed to take full focus off the weapon to react. Aves took advantage of this, swinging the bottom of his sword’s hilt up and into the Drayen’s face. The woman staggered backward grabbing her nose with one hand as the other’s grip on the gun slackened. Aves sent forth a second strike, his foot this time, striking the hand with the gun. It practically leapt out of the Drayen’s grip, skittering across the sidewalk.

            Xanthe had dove to the side the second Aves had made his move, the Human so dumbfounded by the confusion that he didn’t immediately fire. By the time a crack of a gunshot did ring out, there was nothing but air and the side of their speeder to take the brunt of the blast. She made sure to keep her own grip tightly on the stun baton in her hand, and as she saw the Human ready himself for another shot, knew there would only be one opportunity for this. With the flick of her wrist the weapon snapped to its full thirty-centimeter length, Xanthe feeling the soft vibration of the activated baton traveling up her arm. Without hesitation she smacked the thrumming carbon stick against the Human’s gun arm, the weapon discharging an electrical shock right into the man’s nervous system. The whole arm began to spasm before going limp. Letting out a sudden grunt of pain, he dropped the weapon and it fell safely out of his reach. He immediately followed through with a swing from his good arm, but Xanthe was easily able to sidestep the swing. Anger boiling over in the man’s thin face, he then did something Xanthe didn’t expect. He lunged at her, hundreds of kilograms flying right in her direction. She leapt backward expectantly, catching her foot on the flowing dress she wore. That caused her to stumble, slamming her into the ground.

            As the momentary daze slowly began to clear, she caught sight of Aves somewhere off in front of her, the Talosian in full kantsukai form. He held the weapon in a rigid stance, taking tight, practiced swings at the Drayen. The woman had brought out a stun baton of her own to defend herself but seemed to be carefully choosing when to make contact with the much stronger metal blade. Each time the two weapons collided a crackle and flash of blue erupted over the fight as the electricity in the stun baton discharged over the blade. The Drayen seemed as aware as Xanthe, however, that her stun baton was ultimately no match for the kantsukai blade, and the carbon composite wouldn’t last forever against the well-crafted metal. Xanthe’s attention was stolen away from this battle, however, as the Human’s counterattack came in the form of a swift kick to her stomach, reminding her that there was a more pressing concern at the moment.

            As her head lolled back to the other side, still with the lingering daze sending her vision in two, Xanthe saw the Human standing over her. “What’s the matter?” He asked. “No more tricks?” He seemed confident that there was little she could do that he wouldn’t be able to immediately react to and was savoring his victory. Xanthe squeezed her eyes shut and tried to will her focus back. Aves wouldn’t be able to take on both assailants by himself, and she had to come up with something to do to help.

            When her eyes opened again, in full focus, she caught sight of one of the two dropped Model 55s, only a little distance from her reach. As she began to stretch for it the Human’s grip appeared on her leg. “I don’t think so.” He went to reach for her with his injured arm – the nerves evidently starting to respond again – when a shot rang out. Its target was clear when a small, seared hole appeared through the middle of the Human man, the bulk of his mass coming down at Xanthe. She forced herself to roll out of the way, as the man’s body hit the ground with a sick *thud*.

            Xanthe, breath caught in her throat as the man’s dead eyes stared at her, looked to Aves. It wasn’t him who took the shot, however, as he was still stuck in a swordfight with the woman. The Drayen, startled by the sudden death of her companion, let her guard down enough for Aves to knock the stun baton out of her hand. He wasted no time in forcing the woman up against the speeder, his blade backhanded against her throat. “Who are you?” He demanded, in a battle-ready voice. “Why are you chasing us?”

            The Drayen didn’t respond, her eyes lazily darting left and right with a mixture of fear and confusion. Xanthe too was looking where she was, trying to locate who had been the one to shoot the Human.

            “I think there’s been quite enough fun going on here, this evening.” Echoed a strikingly familiar female voice. Two figures entered from the shadows with guns drawn. “Let’s get all the weapons on the ground, eh, Taylor? Or whatever your real name is.” That killed Aves’ focused stare at the Drayen, as he looked to the source of the voice. Xanthe blinked several times to make sure that she wasn’t seeing things, as she recognized the two figures as Andara, the woman Aves had been flirting with at the bar, and Maro, her sleazy ex-boyfriend.

            “I mean it,” Andara continued, her face without that smug self-satisfied attitude which had grated on Xanthe back at Stardust. Now, there was a deep professional seriousness in her light eyes. “Drop the weapon, or we will be forced to do things differently.”

            Aves seemed to weigh his options, Xanthe relieved to see that he didn’t seem ready to try and fight his way out of this one. With a grunt he released the Drayen, gingerly placing his sword down on the ground.

            “Perfect,” Andara said, inching closer but not daring to take her weapon off Aves. “Now, keep those hands where I can see them.”

            “You too,” Maro said, his own pistol trained on Xanthe. She stared at the Quorthwar, whom not more than a half hour ago had been ogling her, just another fool on the dance floor. All that swagger was gone now, a hard and focused stare in them man’s eyes. She raised her hands in compliance, throwing a look at Aves, who had the same confused expression in his face that she was feeling.

            “I should have known you were too good to be true,” Aves commented, as Andara took focus off him just enough to grab the Drayen woman, forcing her to her knees and binding her arms with shock cuffs. The Drayen just stared forward and accepted her fate, a nasty look in her face.

            Andara returned her attention to Aves. “Let’s cut the chatter. Who are you?”

            “I’d rather you answer that, first.” Aves replied.

            Andara waved her pistol. “I’m the one with the gun.”

            “Good for you.”

            “What about your friend, over here? Maybe she’ll be a bit more amenable.” Maro said, looking at Xanthe. “What’s your name? And don’t try and sell me on that whole aunt business, again. I know a pile of Hoarshach crap when I hear it.”

            “Don’t tell them a thing,” Aves shot over to her.

            She recognized the ultimate wisdom of such a strategy, but all Xanthe could focus on was the gun in her face, and whether Maro was more disposed than the Drayen woman at using it. “My name is Xanthe,” She replied quickly. “And he’s Aves.”

            “Thanks a lot,” Aves muttered, giving her a dangerous look.

            Andara frowned suddenly, reaching down to pick up Aves’ blade. She seemed to study it closely, taking particular interest in the hilt. “Vermillion, wrapped in gold,” She muttered. “I didn’t get a good look at this before, but I know these colors. They’re of Clan Takayama.” She said. When she again turned on Aves, there was an interest in her eyes. “Aves isn’t your full name, is it?” The Talosian was silent, so Andara continued for him. “That whole bit about Par Verita wasn’t made up, then. You’re a member of Clan Takayama, aren’t you?” A wistful grin appeared on her face. “And don’t try and say you killed someone and stole it. I saw the way you wield this blade.” Again, Aves was silent.

            “Who is he?” Maro grunted at Xanthe again, that gun still well-trained to put two through her chest.

            She swallowed, trying to hide her annoyance at her companion’s stubbornness. “He is a Takayama. Garrick Takayama.”

            Aves rounded a fiery anger on her. Use of his full name was about as taboo as the use of the true name of Adonai to the ancient Israelites. “What part of ‘don’t tell them a thing’ was unclear to you?”

            Xanthe returned a frustrated look of her own. “We just survived getting blasted by the first two goons, I’d rather not press our luck a second time!”

            “Can we just book them and be done with this? They’re giving me a headache.” Maro said to his partner, who was silent. Andara was still studying Aves carefully. More recognition seemed to seep into her expression, as she smiled.

            “I’m shocked I didn’t see it before; you’re the spitting image of old Lord Admiral Hiro Takayama. One of his many sons, I presume?”

            It was Andara’s turn to receive Aves’ flash of anger. When he spoke, however, he had control over his tone. “Hiro is my father, yes.” He bit out, each word seeming to cause him physical pain.

            “You’re far from the family estate.” She replied.

            “What can I say? I’m a sucker for shitty Union nightclubs and having weapons pointed at me.” Andara seemed amused by the sarcastic remark, but Maro thought otherwise.

            “You’re going to get us both killed!” Xanthe hissed at him.

            “Your girlfriend is right,” The Quorthwar replied. “Your big mouth isn’t exactly making me feel amenable to you right now.”

            Xanthe’s face contorted into a disgusted expression. “Don’t make me laugh. That was all for show.”

            “For once I agree.” Aves replied. Then, addressing Andara, he continued: “So now you know about us; how about you share next?”

            With her free hand, Andara reached into a pocket of the coat she wore, pulling out a small card. Touching her thumb to one side, a narrow holographic image sputtered to life above the card, showing an image of the woman – prim and proper, more the look of an office worker and not someone who spent their time out on the town – with a badge next to it. “Federal Security Bureau.” She said. “If you two can’t tell me why you were at Stardust asking about Euphemia Sethell, you’re in pretty big trouble.” Xanthe and Aves exchanged glances, frowning. FedSec was the Union’s primary police force, which brought a whole new dimension to this mess.  

            “How do I know you aren’t lying about that? I know plenty of smugglers who could make fake IDs better than that one.” Aves countered.

            “You don’t know,” Maro said. “But should I remind you where you stand?”

            Nobody spoke for a moment, before Andara did something wholly unexpected. She lowered her gun, holstering it. Next, she flipped Aves’ sword in her hand, offering it to its owner, hilt-first. As if expecting some sort of trick, Aves slowly took the blade, but no retaliation came.

            “What are you doing?” Maro demanded. “Have you forgotten that these two were asking about privileged information under false pretenses? We don’t even know who they’re working for!”

            “They were the ones getting shot at by our two interlopers here, I don’t think they’re all a part of the same conspiracy. So, unless there are two rival gangs involved in this, I don’t think these two are going to be trouble.” Andara said. “Besides, Lord Takayama is an honorable man; I expect his son would be likewise and have a really good explanation for all of this.” Despite the circumstance, Aves looked thoroughly displeased with that courtesy. 

            Maro gave a sour expression, but complied with his partner’s wishes and took the gun off Xanthe. She finally was able to start breathing normally again and hazarded to stand.

            “What’s everyone’s obsession with Euphemia Sethell, this evening?” She asked.

            “I’d like to ask you the same thing,” Maro replied.

            “We gave our names, how about you go first?” Aves suggested, sliding his blade into its scabbard. “What’s FedSec interest in Euphemia?” Xanthe noticed he didn’t say anything about her possibly kidnapping or disappearance.

            Andara seemed to consider it, but acquiesced. “We’ve been investigating a spade of murders and have reason to think that it may be linked to Euphemia Sethell’s disappearance.”

            Xanthe frowned. Now that was news to them. “I didn’t think anyone knew that Euphemia was missing.”

            “Well clearly you do,” Andara countered. “And I’m not saying any more until you tell me about your interest in this.”

            Xanthe looked to Aves, who still looked out of place, but gave her a nod. “We’re trying to find her.” She said, finally. “We’ve been hired by Senator Sethell and Senator Kran’s aide, Partash Vess.”

            “What agency are you with? Imperial Military Intelligence?” Andara asked.

            Maro scoffed. “She said ‘hired’. They aren’t with any agency.”

            Xanthe grimaced. “Technically, we’re smugglers.”

            Maro chuckled at that one. “What were you saying about the son of your Lord Takayama being honorable?” Andara shot him a displeased look.

            “We don’t deal in anything illicit, and we only swindle the Ruutharii and Felxarans.” Xanthe insisted. “Surely you’ve heard of Captain Judith Rigby?”

            “Should I have?” Andara asked. Xanthe only shrugged. Everyone always had, or so it seemed.

            “Look, long-story short, our Captain has deep ties with the Union, and Partash Vess from Senator Francis Kran’s office asked for our help in finding Euphemia. We have Senator Sethell’s blessing, you can check in if you want.” Aves said.

            “You’d better believe that we will.” Maro replied.

            “Fair enough,” Aves eyed Andara. “Is that enough information for you to tell us what the hell is going on here?”

            Andara looked to her partner, who only shrugged. “I’m not going to tell them. If you want to break protocol any further, that’s on you.” Maro said.

            Andara sigh. “As I said earlier, we’ve been investigating a series of murders all over the sector which started about two months back. At first it seemed to be random – muggings gone bad, thugs with a beef, that sort of thing – but we quickly realized that all of the victims had one thing in common. They’re all affiliated with the Defense Ministry in some degree.”

            Aves scratched his chin. “Go on.”

            “The first was a senior executive from Oro Corp, the defense contractor. Next was the lead designer of the Union’s new LL-13 propelled rocket technology. Four more came after that – the head of a paramilitary company affiliated with the Entente, an experienced Lieutenant clerk with the Ministry, the VP of the military-financier Rajak Group, and most recently one of the Lieutenant Commanders involved in the Union’s representation to the Entente.” Andara explained.

            “I haven’t heard anything about a series of murders,” Xanthe said. “Wouldn’t something this big be all over the news?”

            “That’s no mystery.” Aves said before Andara could. “Let me guess; FedSec wants this whole thing kept under wraps.”

            Maro snorted. “Do you have any idea how fragile the public is with this whole Entente vote? If word got out that someone was taking out those involved in our military establishment…”

            “It would severely hamper the movement to get the Entente re-ratified.” Xanthe replied. “We’ve heard that one a few times.”

            Aves sigh. “Classic democratic politicking. Do you have any suspects?”

            “For almost every murder.” Maro said, crossing his arms.

            “Then why are you still investigating?” Xanthe asked.

            The Quorthwar set her with a hard look. “Because they’re all dead.”

            Aves and Xanthe exchanged concerned glances. “You’re going to have to elaborate on that one.”

            “It’s just like he said,” Andara replied. “For each of the murders we had a suspect, but we either found them dead when we showed up, or they died soon after entering custody, all without saying a word.”

            “Cause of death?”

            Andara shrugged. “We don’t know.”

            “How could you not know?” Aves asked, incredulously.

            “Because we don’t.” Maro said. “All seemed otherwise healthy when autopsied, but their brain functioning had inexplicably stopped.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”

            “Healthy people don’t just die,” Xanthe countered.

            Andara gave her a pained look. “That’s what I said when a well-built, thirty-something Dorylaetian man collapsed and died while I was escorting him to his cell.”

            “Our only lead was that all had some tenuous connection to Stardust; each suspect had patronized the club sometime before they committed their murders.” Maro explained.

            “And how does Euphemia fit into this?” Xanthe asked.

            “We don’t know,” Andara replied. “We’ve been staking the club out for a few weeks and came to know Euphemia during that time. She was trying to help us a bit, but then she just up and vanished a week ago. We wanted to look into that, but our chief quashed any talk of that.”

            Aves’ eyes narrowed. “The work of Senator Kran’s office, no doubt.”

            “From what you’ve said, I imagine that’s a possibility.” Andara replied. “But either way, we have another suspect.” The FedSec operative took a few steps over to where the Drayen woman was still kneeling, arms bound behind her back. The apprehended thug continued to stare forward, acting as if the others didn’t exist. Suddenly the FedSec agent reached down and yanked up the Drayen’s long sleeve, revealing a strange tattoo on the woman’s pale skin. It was a beast of some sort, colored in navy and crimson. As Xanthe moved to get a good look at it, she recognized the ugly serpent as a hydra, a beast from the planet of Borthys. “Just like the others,” Andara muttered. She crouched down beside the Drayen, who continued to take no notice of her. “You going to die on me, too?” She demanded. The Drayen kept staring forward. “Hey!” Andara exclaimed. “I’m talking to you.” The agent grabbed the Drayen’s chin and wretched her head so that their eyes met, but the Drayen didn’t so much as flinch.

            “Hmph,” Maro snorted. “Just like the others. We should get her back to HQ before she drops dead.”   

            “Not before she talks.” Andara said. “Isn’t that right?” She asked, shaking the woman’s head. Nothing came in return. If not for the slight muscle movements at the corners of her face and that dead-set mask of anger tightened up in her eyes, Xanthe would have assumed the woman catatonic.

            Andara stood, dragging the Drayen up with her. “Call dispatch, let them know about our other friend down here, and get them to search this place for any other clues.”

            “Copy.” Maro replied.

            “Hold up,” Aves said, stopping the FedSec agents. “Tell us more about Lor Nevas. How does he fit into all of this?” The name of Lor Nevas was barely out of his mouth, and Xanthe could already feel that sinking feeling returning.

            Maro was the one to reply. “Like I told you when you asked, we saw Nevas was speaking with Euphemia before she suddenly vanished. We did some digging, and apparently Lor Nevas is a…”

            “…a deacon,” Xanthe interrupted suddenly, almost automatically. “I recognized him from Mass this morning.”

            “That’s right,” Andara replied. “We wanted to speak with him, but the Archbishop Kagyla won’t let us. Typical stonewalling from the Roman Church.” Xanthe shot her a dangerous look but was too struck about the seminarian to snap back with a comment.

            Aves crossed his arms, a coy smile appearing on his face. “And I’m sure the whole controversy about FedSec wiretapping the papal nuncio’s office last year has nothing to do with their distrust.”

            “So as retaliation they’re shielding a criminal? We’ll drag him out of that church if we must.”

            “Criminal or no, he is a deacon, and while not a full priest, they do have certain rights under the Union Constitution,” Xanthe snapped, unable to hold herself back.

            “I might have a better idea,” Aves said. “I might know of a way we can speak with Lor Nevas, without it having to come from you.”

            “And how’s that?” Andara asked.

            Aves looked at Xanthe. She grinned, immediately thinking what he was. “We know a priest who may be able to get in there.”