The pressure was still building, Ayna noted. There was no missing it, and no dismissing it either. Even most of the late-night businesses had closed, and many used a glowing display that Fredrak translated as “Due to the ongoing situation”.

The police were out in force, marching on foot, driving ground-cars, flying in aircars, or watching through the eyes of floating drones. The Tanga warriors were out as well, standing guard at intersections or patrolling, weapons in hand. She and Fredrak had yet to come across a scene where the two forces encountered one another, but they had passed by as the bloodied, broken ruins of a few Purists were loaded into an ambulance as a team of warriors looked on.

Almost no one else was about. It was as if the whole city was bracing for a blow.

“Fun, fun, fun…” Ayna muttered at one point.

“Does this remind you of home, in a way?” he asked.

“No, actually. The wild just is what it is. It eats you because that’s how it works. This here is all just people. It’s so much worse.”

“An interesting outlook.”

It was beneath quite a large and intricate overpass that they found their goal. The name, written on the side in big, blocky local script, apparently simply meant Red House.

Ayna went into a pocket and took out the fibre slip. The place’s name was printed there in the exact same script, and the edges were the same red colour as the building exterior.

“Okay, so, before I commit a crime on your behalf on a night when the police are on extreme alert… walk me through your thought process again.”

“Our expert insists there is typically a sharp limit to how far a neophyte in those strange abilities can… tunnel,” Fredrak said. “That likely means that they normally used a vehicle between the city and those ruins. But there was no vehicle there. So it is reasonable to assume that the three who attacked the Tanga used it to get to the capital. That young fellow with the mark was the only one to escape with his life. And he apparently didn’t bring the vehicle back to base. I suppose he could travel better than the rest.”

Ayna waved the slip in front of his face.

“This is from a previous trip, though. The date makes that clear, as well as the fact that it wasn’t in his pocket.”

“True,” Fredrak said. “But people are creatures of habit, and this place is unremarkable. It is entirely possible they would reuse it on visits to the city.”

“Possible, sure. But you’re still… well, making several assumptions at once.”

“Sometimes one just has to make some assumptions and pull the trigger. And sometimes it even works.”

Ayna chuckled.

“Sure. Yeah. And you want me to go in first?”

“Did you go over that site I showed you?”

“Why bother, when you’re right here to explain it to me?”

Fredrak tsk’d, and slid his goggles on as he turned to the building.

“Hey, if you want professionalism, hire a professional,” she said.

“I am hoping to make one out of you, because you have talent.”

“I have the fact that I am a Dwyyk.”

“And if you’d checked the employee list on the site, you would have seen that so are the two nighttime watchmen.”

“Oh.”

He pointed at the car park.

“That’s why I need you in there.”

“Oh, absolutely!” Ayna said with a bit of drama. “You’re decent at sneaking, for a baseline, but that’s a low bar. You know, you seem to have a talent for finding people to do the hard parts for you.”

“We all have our talents.”

“Sure. My other one seems to be to stumble across badass girls who’ll handle the fighting for me. I think I’m at four of them now.”

“Right.”

Fredrak spent a few more seconds looking the building over.

“I have some thoughts on entry,” he then said. “Are you ready?”

There were no actual sounds of violence within Ayna’s range at the moment. But she did pick up the whine of drones and police vehicles.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“Honestly, yes,” she said, and found herself in a sudden serious mood. “I am actually quite ready to leave this city behind.”

“Then let’s get started.”

# # #

Saketa started her morning by meditating in a cross-legged position, with the sword in her lap. It was, and always would be, Nara’s own focus. It couldn’t actually provide the balance Saketa needed to fully right herself. But it was still a Warden sword, and just the sensation of having it brought with it better times. Her body remembered the weight, the feel, the shape, and for once she actually managed to find some amount of calm.

With that done, she started her workout. It began with poses and stretches, honing her body with no tools other than her own weight, and once a bit of sweat developed she got up and drew the sword.

There wasn’t much floor space, but she’d done katas in cramped starship rooms and hallways plenty of times, and Saketa fell into the routine she’d developed for those conditions.

She and the mastercraft weapon flowed as one, as if nothing had ever gone wrong. Actual combat was a time of blasting adrenaline, primal ferocity, kicks, elbows, showing, grunting, pommelling… but in these moments of calm focus, this flow that prepared her body and mind for actual combat, there could be form and deadly beauty.

Once Saketa finished she felt another bit like herself. It wasn’t until she sheathed the weapon that she noticed Vanaka had woken up. The girl was watching her happily.

“Good morning. Have you considered dancing?” the Vylak asked.

“On stage? I have not. Perhaps I should.”

“Mm.”

Vanaka stretched thoroughly on the bed. She had deposited the two of them there at some point in the night.

“How do you feel?” she then asked with a yawn.

“Better.”

Saketa looked at the sword yet again.

“I feel better.”

“That’s good to hear. I see you’re wearing the…”

She gestured.

“... thing.”

“Pietr’s pivasi.”

Saketa tugged on the red capelet.

“Is there something special about it?” Vanaka asked.

“They do help a little,” Saketa said. “Not as much as the suit itself, but some.”

“So how come you and Nara don’t have one?”

“They are harder to make than the suits. They are more heirlooms than anything else.”

“Another way of bringing you home, then.”

“In a way.”

Saketa tugged on the garment with both hands. It certainly was no casual loan.

With her left hand there it drifted to that spot on her neck. There was no pain there, and nothing that could be called wounds. Just two tiny traces of Vanaka’s fangs.

The girl had turned to lie on her stomach, with her chin in her hands and her feet up in the air.

“Are you angry with me?” she asked.

“Doesn’t the venom prevent that?” Saketa said in response, and idly rubbed the bite spot.

Vanaka smiled.

“It takes more than a single bite to make you mine.”

“Your venom has gotten more potent, though. I think.”

“It happens with maturity. But I still have a long way to go.”

Saketa was indeed not angry. There didn’t seem to be any good reason to, but even so she wasn’t sure if she could have managed it anyway. It might take more to make her an ansoti, but she still felt that strange draw to the girl. Not sexual or romantic, necessarily, but a certain compliance. At its core she supposed it was simply a desire to make Vanaka happy.

And why not?

Saketa walked over, leaned down, and kissed Vanaka on the forehead.

“Thank you,” she said. “For being a good friend.”

Vanaka smiled happily, and in turn Saketa felt happy herself. Because that was how it worked.

“Well, thank you right back,” the Vylak said. “Oh, but I forgot to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“I brought up, when I talked to Nara, how crazy this all is. All these people who know each other, being on the same planet at the same time. She told me to remind you how she feels about that.”

“Of course she did.”

“Well? Do share.”

“Some of my people believe in more than just elemental energies,” Saketa said, and her eyes drifted once more to the sword. “They hold to old beliefs about thinking entities… you may call them gods if you want… or simply a will, a will that sometimes acts upon the universe to nudge it in the right direction.”

“Hmm.”

Vanaka rocked her feet a little.

“Not you?”

“I think… if there is such a thing, then in practical terms it is no different from there not being such a thing. We simple mortals must act according to our nature and our circumstances either way.”

“And how are you going to act?” Vanaka asked, and her face turned more serious. “What is your next step?”

Saketa’s face did some hardening of its own.

“The Exile still runs loose. But he is down to his last minion. At least on this planet.”

“So… you are going to go after him again?”

Saketa could tell the prospect worried the girl, and for a moment she considered walking away from it all. Because it was what Vanaka wanted. She shook the notion off.

“Yes. I cannot walk away when I am so close. He will hurt more people. Carry out more blood rites. And draw more vulnerable souls into his web. I must, Vanaka.”

The Vylak drew in a long breath, then let it out in a sigh.

“You must, yes. It is who you are. And then you will go home?”

“I-”

There was a chime at the door.

“It’s me,” Losan said.

“Come in!” Vanaka told him.

The bodyguard entered. He seemed to have dressed in a hurry and his hair was a bit of a mess. In his hand was a comm.

“Your comms… not on, I take it?” he said. “It’s the other two. They’ve found something.”