I leaned my head against the wall, no windows in here where people could get to me. My place was functional, nothing more, a one-room convenience in a high-rise. With a job like mine, I needed the security. It would take a small army to get up here.
The drug kicked in, dropping the blessed veil of silence over the incessant clamor of other people’s wants and needs. Exhausted, I took a san-shower, then found a packet of paste. I didn’t keep the kitchen-mate stocked, no point.
A quick stop at the comm terminal informed me that everyone but Franken had made it back. Fucking pitiful. Though I’d known these spoiled Imperial types had dead meat between their ears, I’d never lived through anything as egregious and wasteful as the run on the Ja-Win compound. Good men had died out there, soldiers with families, not that Pilatu gave a shit. He’d pay the death benefits, shrug, then come up with some other asinine strategy in the never-ending war games.
In those days, I felt empty in a way that nothing could assuage. Apart from that icy numbness, I mostly felt rage, a growing and nearly ungovernable need to lash out. Svetlana’s message made me smile, though. I couldn’t wait to see her.
My sister didn’t approve of how I made my living, but she also understood why I chased the credits. When I bought my own ship, it would change everything. I could finally achieve my dream of being out there, far beyond the thoughts baying in my head. Blessed quiet.
I planned to hire Svet on as crew, and she could stop working in that crappy secondhand shop on Gehenna. We’d get together next month, like we always did, and argue over my choices and her stubbornness. Nobody meant as much as Svet; nobody could get away with saying the things she did, either. I’d killed for much less.
Out of habit, I sat down at the comm terminal to check my bank account, as I always did after a job. I compared the tally against what the dream ship cost, then took a look at the Imperial postings to see what my next mission would be—and how much closer that would bring me to buying my freedom from this hellhole.
Sure, I could afford passage off Nicuan, but to what end? I wasn’t a farmer. I didn’t want to go to work programming or overseeing somebody else’s bots. All I knew how to do was kill—and fly. So I’d do the former until I could do the latter. I’d be damned if I piloted to put money in the Corp’s pocket.
“What the . . .” That couldn’t be right. A few taps on the interface and then I spat a curse. The amount I received prior to the Ja-Win job had been transferred out again. Unless he thought I died in the Ja-Win compound, Pilatu was dumber than he looked.
Killing rage boiled up inside me, tinting everything red. I could do this, even under the influence. This job didn’t call for speed, just stealth. After tucking a pistol in my belt and a knife in my boot, I went to pay my respects.
[Narration pauses, time lapse of four hours]
Security on Pilatu’s city estate was laughable. It was a lush, lavish place full of expensive statuary, gushing fountains, and well-manicured gardens, all hidden away behind heavy, ornate metal gates. Using a grappler, I went over the wall, dropped behind the hedge, and waited.
I had all night.
The droids came first.
After disabling the patrolling bots, I made my way to the guard outpost. Busy watching the innocuous vid feeds I’d provided, they died without making a sound.
Then the place was mine. A heady surge of power lashed through me, akin to lust. I strolled up to the suite where the noble sat pondering his next move. The man didn’t know it yet, but he didn’t have one.
I closed my hands around Pilatu’s throat. If I squeezed hard enough, I’d crush the man’s windpipe. A twist would snap his neck. I savored each possibility while Pilatu struggled against my grip, trying vainly to see who had him.
“You cheated me,” I whispered into the other man’s ear. “I don’t work for free. Ever. And my payment isn’t contingent on the success of your plan.”
“Let me go,” the noble tried to demand. “Crazy bastard. If they . . .” Pilatu gasped, struggling to get the words out. “Catch you . . . you’ll be . . . executed.”
“Weighed against the pleasure of killing you, I’m finding I don’t care.”
“I have money.” Face purple now, the other man wheezed. “I can—”
“No,” I said with finality. “You can’t.”
A little shiver of pleasure went through me as I wrenched Pilatu’s neck sideways, then let the body drop. About Mary-sucking time—I was so tired of taking orders from these officious little pricks. Now I needed to get off world fast.
I still didn’t have enough cred for my own ship, but what the fuck. There were other worlds, other wars. People always needed killing.
I left the estate quietly and walked a good distance before signaling an autocab. Expedience sent me straight for the spaceport. Maybe I could buy passage on a vessel departing tonight. It didn’t matter where, although Gehenna would be best. Svet would take me in, no questions asked.
But when I got there, the place was very nearly deserted. No surprise, considering it was so late. Droids went about their work in mechanized silence. There was a skeleton crew working the docks and only two ships, neither of which looked ready to go. I stood, hands bunched into fists, considering my options. I really couldn’t stay on Nicuan now, but if I didn’t have a choice—
“Well, well, if it isn’t my least favorite person,” came a deep voice behind me.
I spun, ready to fight, then relaxed a little when I recognized Hon, a tall, dark-skinned pirate from the Outskirts. We’d tussled more than once, but in a friendly way most times. The other man still nursed a slight over some trull that had gone with me instead, but nothing like a blood grudge lay between us.