Hard Luck Hermit

“Alright, theory-crafting time,” Kamak said. He pulled up a blue slate that Corey assumed to be the space equivalent of a blackboard, and tapped a pen against its cobalt surface. “Let’s hear some ideas on the identity of our blood-crazed killer.”

“Should we be doing this in the dead guy’s house?”

They were sitting on the most recent victim’s chairs, and using his office supplies for their theory-crafting session. It felt weird.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, no one cares if we sit on his sofa,” Tooley said. “Weirdo with a war fetish settles on a dead world, these things can happen.”

“The only people here are Ranrit and his goons, and they don’t give a shit,” Kamak said. Ranrit had recently returned to his orbital patrol anyway, so even that small amount of authority was no longer present. “I’m sure what’s his name wouldn’t mind us using his stuff to solve his own murder. It’s not like we’re raiding his underwear drawer, I’m just borrowing a slate.”

“Fine, let’s just get this over with,” Corey said. “First theory: former associate of Morrakesh out for revenge.”

“Solid, I think we all had that in mind,” Kamak said. He drew a houseplant with angry eyes to symbolize Morrakesh. While their erstwhile arch-rival had been utterly obliterated in the hellfire of an artificial supernova, he still had a few associates left. Most had surrendered or been captured already, many by the crew themselves, but a scant few still remained at large.

“Second theory: Structuralist’s looking to frame me and ruin my reputation,” Tooley said.

“Also valid, always happy to blame you for a problem,” Kamak said. He drew another angry face, this time in the likeness of Vansis, another long-dead enemy. He was the only Structuralist Kamak could remember.

“Perhaps it is a would-be challenger from the Im-Shalv-Im,” Farsus suggested. “It is customary for them to leave a trail of dead to draw out a worthy foe, though most carve the names of their chosen opponent into the flesh of the dead to draw them out all the quicker.”

“Well that’s fucked up,” Kamak said. “And unlikely.”

He wrote it down anyway, turning to face the board fully to make sure he spell Im-Shalv-Im right.

“I think you should write down Bevo as a suspect. She seems suspicious.”

Everyone whipped around as fast as they could, hands on their pistols. Kamak made it as far as drawing and aiming his pistol, though he resisted the urge to fire. Bevo did not seem at all bothered by the gun pointed at her, even though the only weapon she appeared to carry was an archaic axe slung across her back.

“Sorry. Bad joke.”

“What are you doing here, Bevo?”

“Same as you, I figure, which makes it all the more odd you’re pointing a gun at me,” Bevo said.

“There’s a disemboweled man in the other room and you’ve got an axe,” Tooley said. “Excuse us for being skeptical.”

“Oh, the axe is all for show, just a little intimidation tactic,” Bevo said. “Not that I don’t know how to use it. I’m a sensible lady, though, I stick to guns.”

She reached down to her abdomen and slid a slender handgun out of a hidden pocket in her armored chestplate. Even Kamak hadn’t clocked that hiding place. He tensed his grip on his own pistol until Bevo slipped the gun back into its hidden holster.

“Really though, rich dead guy gets offed, family members put out a bounty for any info on the culprit, I take the bounty, here I am,” Bevo said. “All guild official, I can show you the files if you like.”

“If you don’t mind,” Kamak said. He held his gun up until Bevo held up a datapad showing off the official Guild seal, and a signature Kamak recognized. He holstered his gun for the time being.

“Small universe, us being on the same case,” Corey said, his voice edged with obvious suspicion. He didn’t much believe in coincidence.

“Ain’t it though?” Bevo said, completely oblivious to Corey’s skepticism. “Don’t worry, I won’t be stepping on any toes. These next-of-kin type investigations are usually just for show, just a relative making sure they do their due diligence so they can stay in the will.”

She took a seat among the crew as if she belonged there and reached out to put a massive red arm around Tooley, much to her discomfort.

“So, these the list of suspects? Morrakesh goons, Structuralists, Hunters of the Archaic Way?”

“You know the Second Name of the Im-Shalv-Im?”

“I know the Third Name, brother, six of those bastards have tried to call me out,” Bevo said. She lifted her arm to flex a broad bicep, and show off a wide scar. “Fifth motherfucker gave me this.”

“Impressive.”

“Bevo, it’s nice to see you and all,” Corey said. “But I’m...I’m not sure we’re at the stage of our investigation where we should be sharing things.”

“Legally speaking, I have to,” Kamak said. Corey looked confused, and Kamak elaborated. “We’re here on personal business, Bevo has a contract. By the Charter, her investigation supersedes ours. If I didn’t share, I’d be interfering in a fellow bounty hunter’s contract, and I’d be banned.”

“No worries, boss, I’m not going to narc,” Bevo said. “But if you want to be on the up and up, I’d be happy to write you into the contract.”

Kamak took note of the fact that she was only offering to have them join her, not to cede the case. It might’ve been a misguided attempt at camaraderie, an attempt to keep an easy paycheck, or something more sinister.

“Sure, let’s do that,” Kamak suggested. Whatever was going on, erasing any outside pressure on their investigation would only help things. “Let me call Quid and get us written in.”

Since Corey was already giving Bevo the stinkeye, Kamak allowed himself to take his eyes off her and focus on the call. He rang up the guild liaison, and his first call went to the inbox. Kamak double-checked the local time on Centerpoint. It was right in the middle of Quid’s workday. He called again. This time he got an answer.

“You scared me there for a second, Quid,” Kamak said. “What’s the hold up?”

The line was active, but no response came.

“Quid?”

Corey took his eyes off Bevo. Farsus leaned forward in his chair, hands tensed.

“Quid!”

“Help me.”

Kamak nearly missed his pocket as he slammed the datapad back into it.

“On the ship, now!”

Bevo got left behind in the stampede back to the ship. She did a double-take between the board and the retreating hunters.

“Who’s Quid?”