Goddess of the Galacticide Episode 38 - Extra Spice

Episode 38

The creature slumped over Cha Dzeeny’s shoulder, dripped blood, and its entrails dragged over the gnarly scatter stones of the Old Market streets.

Busy morning crowds gave way to the dead Heepkuu and its carrier; people’s glances were short and repulsed, followed by hasty steps out of Cha’s way. Carry gore had skipper Oonzu said. And hide in its sight. Brilliant advice.

A heavy silicate like Oonzu could not blend into a human crowd, but he assured that carrying a slaughtered animal got anyone into the busiest places. Cha was a fugitive in Assembly space, and likely shunned on Dziilaa Sok and other Aloo Dash worlds, but he was still drawing less attention than an AI core, a Traaz, or a former Shaajis.

He had a chance of getting this done unnoticed.

Cha dumped his load onto a butcher block at a simple street vendor’s stall.

“A fine carcass,” said an old woman, emerging from the makeshift foil tent covering the hard-packed dirt lot. “I see you started dressing it.”

He was no butcher, but assumed she was referring to the wide open abdomen of the animal.

“I looked for the venom sack, didn’t want to carry it all the way to the market, only to find out it wasn’t a male.”

Cha had reached the limit of Oonzu’s instructions, and hoped the old woman would buy it, both his story, and the Heepkuu.

“I’m sorry,” said the woman. “I haven’t sold enough skewers yet to pay for such a large animal. Maybe the other vendors will take it off your hands.”

No.

Cha chose the old meat vendor for a specific reason. Larger stalls preferred known suppliers, asked for hunting licenses, insisted on cashless transactions through secured terminals. Hers was a generation old, open system, but tied into the city’s networks.

“I’m tired, bloody, and hungry,” he said. “I’ll make you a deal.”

The woman eyed Cha as if she knew something was amiss and had to decide if she cared. A proper meat market vendor. Cha was home.

“I’ll let you have the Heepkuu. But you will start preparing it right away. And from the best cuts, you’ll make me a skewer. Oh, and while I wait, I’d need to use your terminal.”

She looked at her wireless terminal sitting on her tiny register table, and back at Cha Dzeeny. Her mouth formed a straight line. How much trouble could Cha cause her? How many prime skewers would the animal provide?

She smiled. “What flavor would you like, my friend?”

When Cha expected the firing squad, he had already picked his last meal.

“Kyaab uuzya, please. Extra spice.”

***

Cha’s sticky hands could not make the terminal any grimier. It was worn and weathered, old military surplus equipment sold to civilians looking for reliable gear. It had two of the external ports Tswa sni sni had expected. The AI core had reprogrammed Linuka Omga’s—zero funds left—transic node with what she called a ‘cutter’. Some fancy code segment, making Cha’s job easier.

Cut’s through the security measures, he thought. We’ll find out.

The Urban Planning Bureau and the Society for Ancestral Conservation didn’t have sophisticated vault systems, but some of their data was private, concerning people’s residences. The residence he was interested in was the royal palace. Attempting to access current layouts would trigger alerts, but the Shaajis needed something else: historic drawings, ancient architectural prints and floor plans. Her magic couldn’t rearrange the palace doors and walls, but the perception of it. Fool security systems, distract guards.

The sizzling was loud and the smell mouth-watering. Expertly cubed and drenched in uuzya sauce, the Heepkuu’s spinal muscles were grilling over an open flame.

The old woman focused on her craft, but must have felt Cha’s stare.

“Ready in five passes, my friend.”

He needed to hurry. Tswa sni sni’s cutter needed to work faster. Cha knew it was spreading out search requests and data downloads over many fake network addresses, mimicking human behavior, not harvesting all the data needed in one aggressive—and obvious—sweep.

Still, he refused to let that meat skewer go to waste.

He saw two of them. Tall men pushing through the dense crowd, skilled, not running people over, but making good speed. Their heads did not waver, ignoring the erratic movement around them, focused vision on their target. Him.

Cha rose, not panicked, but with purpose. His left hand pulled the transic node from the terminal; his right found the concealed gun in his rig pants. He sensed two cold metals, one gripped by his hand, the other pressing against his neck from behind.

“That hand better be empty when you pull it out of your pocket,” said a female voice. The pressure increased, underlining her words. “Nice and slow.”

The men cut out of the crowd, jumped over the butcher block, and drew their weapons. With at least three guns aimed at him, Cha raised his hands, leaving his own inside his pocket, clenching the transic node between his thumb and palm.

“Commander Dzeeny,” said a raspy voice.

Nreedz. They had recognized him, but didn’t know what he was doing on Dziilaa Sok. His mind rushed through the options regarding the transic. Drop and stomp on it? Throw into the crowd while drawing his gun for the last time? Or into the flames of the grill, hoping they would melt it fast enough?

“What in the name of the magiis ancestor are you doing here?”

Wait. A second woman pushed a tent foil aside. Long black coat worn over light mesh armor. Thin red stripes on her collar. Palace security. Hoarse speech, a leftover from one too many badly treated throat cancers.

“Could ask you the same,” said Cha. “Since when are patrol flyers working on the ground, Sentinel?”

Screams set in and panic infected bystanders when they realized several aimed guns in their peaceful midst. The coated woman rolled her eyes.

“Sit.”

When the surroundings calmed down and the meat vendor row was left deserted, she continued.

“Sentinels were grounded after some self-important Guard Commander left for an excursion with a certain Kel Chaada. Grand mission. Safe the galaxy. Hero stuff. The sentinels stayed with the Shaajis. Shaajis died on the line. Most Sentinels, too. The Dark Ones torched half the palace. We’re grounded, guarding what’s left.”

Cha nodded. “I didn’t remember you so bitter, Baaii.”

“And I don’t remember you being a hacker, Cha. Or forgetful. What were you looking up palace floor plans for? You know the place.”

Cha sighed. His mission had failed. The Shaajis would need an alternate route into the palace.

He smiled at the woman. Baaii Fij. Among the Shaajis’ multiple realities, there had to exist one where Baaii and Cha were more than fellow guards. In this reality, however, Baaii wouldn’t be a lover. She was his executioner. He glanced over at the grill. The old woman had vanished with the crowd. But she set the skewers aside, not to burn the meat.

“It’s a complicated story,” said Cha. “Mind if we eat while I tell it?”

Home. A perfect last meal. Dying at the hands of honorable people. It could have been worse—a lot.

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