“Youstillhaven’t told me what this is about.”
“Your head’s got a bounty on it,” he replies. “One of my cousins put it there. I don’t know why—it’s none of my business. I’m just gonna deliver you and collect a fat wad of credits.”
“Maybe you’re mistaken. Bully and I gowayback,” I lie.
“Great. Then you two can talk it out. Now come quietly.”
“Hmm. Depends. WhereisBully right now? ‘Cause I’ve got better things to do—”
I don’t wait for the answer.
I leap over my cover and slam into the Penubian, sending us both crashing to the floor.
He’s armed—I’m not. But the shock makes him drop his weapon. He punches me in the gut.
I punch back. Hard.
We grapple like wild animals. The Neroots use the chaos to sneak out with Lena in tow.
Problem is, Penubians have thick reptilian hide, just like our fur. Punches don’t do much.
I dodge his venomous fangs and—
He kicks me off with brute force. I land near one of my shurikens. Perfect. I grab it and hurl it at his throat.
He can see big shapes in the dark—but not something small and fast.
It slices deep into his neck. He collapses, grabbing at the gushing wound, green blood spraying everywhere.
I walk up and crouch beside him.
“Tell me where I can find Bully, and I’ll call for help. Stop you from bleeding out right here.”
He probably won’t make it, judging by how fast his vital fluid’s pouring out.
No need to let him know that, though.
His once-glossy scales are now dull, lifeless.
Realizing it’s over, he finally speaks.
“Sssstd zssiddd shuduyit!” he gasps in his native tongue.
Thanks to the Confed’s neural implant tucked in my brain, I understand him perfectly. I can speak any recorded language, and learn new ones within hours. But I don’t let any of that show. Not in a backwater Coalition outpost like this one.
“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” I reply with a sympathetic shrug. “You must be in terrible pain…”
“Sssstd zssiddd shuduyit!” he repeats—then collapses for good.
One thing’s for sure—with his final breath, he confirmed the intel in Penubian: Bully’s hiding out in the SS-3954 solar system.
I get to my feet, retrieve both my shurikens, wipe them roughly on my pants, and walk out of this godforsaken dump.
No point calling for help—it’s already too late for the poor bastard.
As for me?
Setting course for SS-3954!
