A Whisper of War (ON HOLD)

What's the Job?

    Koden hunched his shoulders and stared across the street at the collection of square, gray buildings clustered tightly together, marking Entoraat’s Au’six consulate.  As expected, it was heavily guarded by soldiers in battle armor, energy and particle weapons held ready.  A slight flicker above the cluster also marked the existence of protective energy shields, most likely strong enough to resist an orbital bombardment.

  “Don’t want to be bustin’ in there any time soon.”  A wry voice commented from beside the broad shouldered T’nith.  Gathering his heavy jacket closer around him against the cold wind whistling down the street despite Entoraat’s weather control system, Koden looked over at the voice’s owner.

     One of the handful of human derivatives in the Centarus Arm, And Darva was typical of his species with a medium build, a shock of tousled brown hair, pale skin and penetrating brown eyes.  Clothed much as Koden was in a heavy leather jacket, reinforced with passive shock armor, baggy, multi-pocketed combat fatigues and sturdy boots, And was one of Moonsteel’s tech experts, conversant in over five hundred different species’ technology and advancements.  So when he said he’d rather not break into a fortified emplacement, with obvious technological enhancements, Koden had a tendency to listen.

  “Good thing we’re not then, And.”  Vrin said from Koden’s other side.  The Danalan had donned several layers of the insulating wrapping that passed for environmental clothing amongst her people, keeping to the subdued hues the rest of the encounter team favored instead of her usual garish garb.

  “You can say that again.”  And retorted, his voice dry.  Yet his eyes hadn’t stopped moving as they scanned the collection of buildings across the heavily trafficked ground effect trans-way.

  “Don’t even think about it, And.”  Koden rasped before looking over at the final member of the encounter team.

  “Have our guests arrived, Sin?”

     Slender like Vrin, but lithe and muscular instead of flexible and agile, Sin’sala was a Nraal, a high G race possessing exceptional psionic abilities that normally devoted their lives to the pursuit of an austere esthetic, honing their minds with mental exercises and discipline.  Sin’sala, however, was no mentalist.  Shunning the mental discipline of her people, she instead had turned her skills to a occupation much more, . . primal.  Like killing people for a living.

     However, to say Sin was a simple assassin would’ve been a gross oversimplification.  With her psionic abilities tuned to ferret out her victims no matter how well they hid, she was a relentless hunter, following telepathic trails when nothing else was left.  And those abilities could be extended to finish her target off, using telekinesis to stop a heart, or rupture a cerebral artery.  Usually, though, she preferred using her hands, driving in a blade, slicing open an artery or twisting a neck to break it with her unusual strength.

     Hidden beneath voluminous clothes that kept her build and identity secret, the Nraal peered out from beneath the deep hood hiding her face over at her employer, who had discovered her plying her trade nearly ten years ago in the Val’ahut Corridor, on the outer rim of the Sagittarius Arm.

  “He’s there.”  She reported in her hoarse whisper.  “Upper floor, back building, about thirty tektas from the main entrance.”  The hooded visage swung back to regard the consulate once more.

  “And he’s worried.”

  “Worried?”  And looked around Koden to stare at Sin.  “Worried about what?”

  “That would require a deeper probe.”  The heavily cloaked assassin immediately retorted, her tone tinted with annoyance.  Hearing that, And quickly threw up his hands in a gesture of pacification.