Even all these years later, Corey was still learning new things about space, and all the ways it was different from, or the same as, life on Earth. For example, even in space, the bus stops were weirdly sticky and smelled funny. Corey held his breath and tried to ignore it until he boarded the shuttle. Mystery bus stop smells were bad enough on earth. In space, there were a lot more things with a lot worse reasons to stink.

It turned out that not having a personal spaceship made getting around kind of lame. To get from place to place, Corey had to either walk or make use of that vile beast known as public transportation. He took a seat near the back of the public shuttle and hoped no one sat down near him. He was, naturally, immediately disappointed. Corey spent a few second examining his green-skinned neighbor, and put a hand on his saber. His new seat buddy had a conspicuous shape in his pocket that, on closer inspection,was nothing but a wallet -and a deliberate attempt to draw the eye away from the much subtler outline of the gun in their coat.

“Mind explaining why you’re trying so hard to hide that gun?”

“Easy, Corey,” the bus passenger said, without turning to look at him. “I’m with the Ghost.”

“Is that supposed to make me trust you?”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re paranoid?”

“Frequently,” Corey said. Sometimes they meant it as a compliment. Most often they didn’t.

“How are you this antsy and still taking public transportation?”

“What am I supposed to do, get a private shuttle? Lock myself in a box with a complete stranger for a while?” Corey said sarcastically. “I’m sure that’d go well. At least here there’s lots of witnesses.”

“That almost makes sense. Speaking of witnesses, maybe keep your voice down? You may be a public figure, but some of us still like our anonymity.”

“If I were in your seat, I would be less concerned about keeping my anonymity intact and more concerned about my torso,” Corey said. “I’m paranoid, I have a laser sword, and a very short list of reasons not to kill you. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“I am technically your bodyguard. As far as names, call me Rembrandt.”

“Remdbrandt?”

“Like the Earth painter, yes,” Rembrandt said. “Big fan of his work. Very good use of dark colors and high contrast.”

“So you’re an art lover, great,” Corey said. “Going to need a little more to go on with regards to not stabbing you.”

“Fucking hell, fine,” Rembrandt. “Den Cal Vor is alive and recovering nicely. His species is built to survive worse than that. He’s received some minor stitches and is already back to arguing with the missus.”

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Corey relaxed slightly. While he had no way of verifying the information, the reference to their domestic bickering did make it sound a lot more credible. The attacker had been in and out in seconds, and while it was possible they had been observing Tooley for some time, frequent security sweeps made that unlikely.

“Alright, I believe you,” Corey said.

“Great. You going to take your hand off that sword now?”

“No.”

“Understandable. You want to hear the plan?”

“Only out of curiosity,” Corey said. “I’ll be deciding what I do.”

“Well, at least you’re listening,” Rembrandt said. That was more than most of his department had expected. “We told your Ambassador’s handlers back on Earth what was happening, and they wanted her locked down. No one in or out. Not even you.”

“They don’t want the only other human up here on the job?’

“These are government agents, Corey,” Rembrandt said. “They’re aware of your little family reunion.”

“Ah.”

While his government was happy to deny Corey’s bout of alien-assisted patricide had ever happened for the sake of diplomatic relations, they knew the truth, and were a little judgmental about it. Right now their priority was to keep murderers away from Yìhán, not invite another one to crash on her couch.

“Well To Vo’s place is a crime scene, and the Wanderer is still a few swaps away,” Corey said. “So I just get a hotel, or what?”

“That’d be ridiculous, Corey,” Rembrandt said. “We’ve arranged somewhere for you to stay, and someone to keep an eye on you.”

“I’m not stabbing you, Rembrandt, but that doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere with you,” Corey said. “Or staying any place you want to take me.”

“We figured you’d say that. We’re outsourcing,” Rembrandt said. The shuttle let out a quiet hiss and lurched as it came to a halt. Rembrandt stood up. “This is my stop. I might check in again, but hopefully I won’t have to.”

“Hey, don’t just fuck off all mysterious-like,” Corey said. “What the hell does ‘outsourcing’ mean?”

“It should be pretty obvious, Corey,” Rembrandt said. “You don’t have many friends.”

Rembrandt proceeded to fuck off all mysterious-like, leaving Corey to stew on his enigmatic exit for approximately three seconds. Not long after Rembrandt stepped off, the shuttle lurched to the side under a sudden weight.

The ship was designed to accommodate many body types, but the newest passenger strained it to its limits. A massive hulk with leathery skin and limbs as thick as tree trunks walked down the central aisle, winglike appendages folded carefully on his back. The shuttle shook with every step as the titanic beast walked to the back of the bus, aimed six eyes at Corey, and sat down in the aisle next to him. No seat could have possibly contained him.

“Hey Khem,” Corey mumbled.

“Corey Vash.”

“What’ve you been up to since, uh, everything?”

“Work. As I am doing now.”

Khem sealed his mandibled jaws shut emphatically. Corey kept his mouth shut as well. He could certainly do worse for a bodyguard. Whatever shenanigans their killer was using to imitate people could not possibly copy Khem’s hulking physique, and his borderline-psychotic obsession with oaths would make it impossible for Khem to be bribed, blackmailed or compromised in any other way. As far as safety, Khem was one of the best picks possible. Even if he was lacking in some other desireable qualities.

“On a purely business note, Khem,” Corey said. He would not dare to talk about anything else. Khem had mellowed out into a default state of “not actively trying to murder Kamak”, and Corey didn’t want to do anything to change that. “Where exactly are we going?”

“My ship. You will remain in an attached habitation pod until your crew returns.”

“Cool.”

There were still worse options out there. Not many, but a few. Corey’s mind briefly fluttered to the spear Khem had left behind during their fight -the spear Corey still had stashed in his room. He wondered if Khem would want it back, and decided not to mention it.