January 28, 2363 AIA

P60

“Hello, Mr. Mercenary.”

Cays recognized her voice instantly, so he wasn’t surprised when he turned to see who was at his elbow. The lights above the table were a dim orange, but he could still clearly see her gentle smile. The way her eyes were crinkled at the edges made it look as if she was teasing him. Which, he realized, she was.

“Miss Sniper.” He looked her up and down. After the brief inspection, his only comment was, “Nice cane.”

She twisted it around as she eyed the thing. “Thank you. It was given to me with an ultimatum. This was the lesser of two evils.” She looked up at him. “Do you think it makes me look decrepit?”

“I don’t think so.” Not with that smile, he thought to himself.

“Kind of you to say so.”

“Is that because of Sipos?”

“He certainly didn’t help any, but I can’t really blame him for this. May I join you?”

Cays glanced around the bar. The other tables were already filling up and most of the stools at the counter were taken, but it wasn’t too crowded. He should still be able to find—ah. There.

Cays picked up the bottle in front of him and added a measure of a creamy liqueur to his shot glass. “That captain still seems to be with you.”

“He tends to be a little protective.”

“Hmm. Is he armed?”

“I’m not.”

Cays lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. He’d already checked for that.

“Are you?” she asked.

He sipped his drink. “Even if I was, Miss Sniper, I don’t think I’d need to use it with you.”

“So I do look decrepit.”

Cays laughed out loud. He couldn’t stop himself. Then he motioned to the bench across from him. “Sit down, Miss Sniper. You have nothing to worry about from me.”

Reyer slid into the booth.

“Join me?” Cays pushed the bottle toward her.

She sniffed it before reading the label. “That smells pretty good.”

“It’ll cheat you. Be careful. It hits harder than you’d think.” The mercenary emptied his glass so he could raise it high enough for one of the waiters to see.

“You don’t seem to have a problem with it,” Reyer said.

“I’ve had some practice. To me, a bottle like this is no more than the promise of a good evening.”

“The whole bottle? By yourself?”

“Maybe I won’t be drinking it by myself tonight.” He smirked. “Would it be too much for you, Miss Sniper?”

Reyer smiled in answer to the challenge before a single cautious thought could flash through her mind. When one did, it didn't stay long enough to make itself heard.

“I think I’d surprise you,” she said.

The bartender finally noticed the raised shot glass. After a short series of gestures, Cays relaxed back into the bench. “So is this a happy accident, or were you looking for me?”

“We looked you up.”

“That must have been difficult.”

“Most of the time, a name is all you need, Mr. Cays. It took a while, but we found you.”

“If you know my name, why did you call me Mr. Mercenary?”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me. I thought it might be a useful hint.”

“I remember you.” Cays slid the shot glass back and forth from his smallest finger to his thumb. “I hope you’re not here to try to hire me, Miss Sniper. I’m retired now. If you found me through the normal channels, they should’ve warned you.”

“I’m not here to try to hire you.”

He let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d need us anyway. You seemed to do fine on your own.” He raised an eyebrow. “Then was I wrong? Is it revenge you want?”

“Not at all. You were only doing your job.”

Cays raised a finger to point at her with the hand holding the glass. “I knew you were one of us.”

“I’m not a mercenary.”

“You’re a fighter, Miss Sniper. You understand. It’s nothing personal.”

A waitress came by. She put down a napkin, then placed an inverted shot glass on top of it.

Cays flipped the glass the right way up and poured the first shot. “So what are you here for, if not to try to hire me?” He pushed it across the table.

Reyer pulled the drink closer. “I’d like to ask you a question or two.”

The retired fighter motioned for her to drink

Alix downed the contents of the glass, then looked at the residue with wonder. “That’s…actually pretty good.”

“Like I said, be careful.” Cays sat back. “I’m sorry, Miss Sniper. I don’t know what I can tell you. I was a mercenary. It’s all secrets, money, and death.”

Reyer refilled her glass. “Are you trying to make it sound romantic?”

“I don’t think I could ever sell you on the idea what I did was romantic.”

“I don’t know. The money part sounded pretty good.”

“But secrets are secrets. I don’t usually talk about my past.”

Reyer watched him reach for the bottle and carefully unscrew the lid. As he poured, she sat forward. “What would you say to the idea of a drinking game?”

“A drinking game? Are you challenging me, Miss Sniper?”

“Odds and Evens, but when you have to take a shot, the other person gets to ask you a question.”

“What if I can’t answer?”

“I’ve always believed that ‘I don’t know’ is a perfectly acceptable answer. Especially if it’s the truth. But if there’s a question we don’t want to answer, that’s another shot to buy our way out of it.”

“Only one?”

“You’d rather it be a double?”

Cays’ cheeks crept up in a smile when he saw the glint in her eyes. “All right. I’m game.”

“Do you know the rules?” Reyer asked.

Cays shrugged.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“The first question is, do you mind sharing a glass?”

She briefly explained the rules. Make a call, odd or even. Then they’d each use one hand to throw any number of fingers. If you guessed wrong, you’d take possession. If you already had possession, you drank.

The shot glass passed between them. At first the questions were cautious and inoffensive—the kind of questions you might ask someone you were trying to get to know.

How did you become a mercenary?

Do you work for the Rising?

Where did you get your training?

What kind of missions did you do?

But as more shots were consumed, Reyer started upping the ante. Information wasn’t enough. She wanted opinions.

Did he like to drink at bars?

Did he enjoy being retired?

“My favorite planet?” Cays put the empty glass up against his cheek and stared across the bar. “My favorite planet is the one where no one on it wants me dead.”

Cays was pleased to find that Alix smiled more freely now that she’d had a few shots.

As they continued, there were more lighthearted arguments about who had called what and who was in possession of the shot. They passed the glass back and forth, smearing some of the liqueur they’d spilled before.

“Will you let me kiss you?” Cays asked.

Reyer’s cheeks, which were already slightly red, darkened. “What? Where did that even come from?”

“Ah-ah! It’s my turn to ask the question. You threw a three.”

“I can still count, Mr. Mercenary, but why on earth would you ask that?”

Cays leaned over the table and pointed to the corner of the room. “There’s a certain captain over there watching everything we do.”

Reyer didn’t bother looking around.

Cays went on, “And, it’s only a guess, but I suspect”—he raised a finger—“I suspect that if I kissed you, it would make him really angry, and I owe him for shooting me in the shoulder.”

“Well, I hate to say no to such a noble cause, but I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse.”

“Why?”

“I thought you liked it when no one wanted you dead.”

Cays put a hand to his chest and groaned with mock disappointment. Reyer laughed as she lined up the next round. The game continued.

When the mercenary won, he said, “What’s your favorite planet then?”

Reyer felt a sudden welling of tears at the edges of her eyes. She inhaled, trying to draw in enough air to cool the sudden roil of emotion.

She glanced over at Cays and realized he’d seen it all.

With forced levity, she said, “This stuff—it does hit harder than you’d think.”

“I warned you.” His voice was soft.

Alix threw the liqueur to the back of her throat and swallowed before answering. “It’s Huegeh.”

“Never heard of it.”

“P48. I was a homesteader there for five years. It’s the only real home I had.” She took another deep breath. “It was so beautiful.”

“You can’t go back?”

“Not yet.”

Reyer carefully poured the next shot.

Cays lost and took possession of the drink. When he lost again, he tossed it back.

“All right. What’s your question, Miss Sniper?”

When Reyer finally spoke, she said, “Do you ever regret being a mercenary?”

Cays reached for the bottle. “I am nowhere near drunk enough for that question.”

“Then take your double and keep your secrets.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a playful drunk, Miss Sniper?”

“Once or twice. Usually when I’m winning.”

“Oh? You’re winning, are you?”

Reyer leaned across the table so she could prod the glass closer to him. “Drink up.”

The next round, the glass was bandied back and forth several times before Reyer lost twice.

She raised the shot and called, “Kanpai!”

When she put the empty glass back on the table, she looked up at Cays. His face was somber. “Did you guys kill Devi Kumar?”

“No.”

He let out a satisfied sigh. “Two years and too many jobs later, and that’s always bothered me. That whole job bothered me. It made no sense.”

“Tell me about it.”

It wasn’t a demand; it was an invitation.

He was sorely tempted. The desire was so intense, it made him feel wary. He grabbed the bottle and poured.

He said, “It’s in your possession I believe, Miss Sniper.”

They played. The next time Cays lost, he waited, drink in hand.

“Who hired you for that job?” Reyer asked

The mercenary’s face softened, and his shoulders relaxed. His whole demeanor subtly unwound. At last, he knew what he’d been waiting for.

With a sad smile, he said, “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

“Devi Kumar is dead. You can’t protect her now.”

“Devi Kumar didn’t hire us.”

Reyer watched as he slowly drained the small glass. She felt sure this was not some drunken rambling. He’d deliberately chosen to reveal that much.

As he poured, Cays said, “We were hired to protect Senator Kumar, but she said you weren’t after her. Who were you after?”

“We were looking for a friend of mine.”

“Did you find them?”

Reyer nodded.

“Kumar knew where they were?”

She nodded again.

“She knew too much, didn’t she?”

“She did,” Reyer said.

“Moric Sipos was that nobody they found in her house, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Cays chuckled as he put the bottle to the side. “I knew it. The cocky little son of a bitch. The moment he said he would deal with you, I could read his epitaph. He should’ve had us stay.”

Reyer smiled.

“Why do you want to know who hired us?” Cays asked.

“What an awful lot of free questions you’re asking.”

He slid the shot glass toward her. “If you want a drink, please, be my guest. How many questions was that? Four? Five? Get started. I’ll buy another bottle if I have to.”

Reyer dropped her finger on the table. “First of all, sir, I’d have to lose that many times in a row.” She lifted the glass so she could smell it. With a wry smile, she admitted, “I don’t know if I could handle that.”

“Why do you want to know who hired us?”

“She didn’t hire only you, did she?”

“I told you, Kumar didn’t hire us.”

“She hired an assassin or a team that would be willing to handle a few assassinations. No questions asked. Minimal danger. The targets were Supremacy scientists. I have the dates—”

“I don’t need the dates. Yes. They hired the assassins. Not my crew, but people I knew.”

“And a hacker.”

Cays stared up at the row of posters that lined the wall. “Poor Bobbin. That was wrong.”

“Tell me.”

It was another quiet invitation.

He motioned to the glass. “Let’s play.”

Cays lost the next round. He held up a hand to stall Reyer’s mild taunting, braced himself, then downed the shot.

“What happened to Bobbin?” Reyer asked.

The mercenary put the glass back down on the table. His face felt hot, and the edges of his vision were becoming muzzy.

“Whoever hired us said they needed a hacker and that it would require the best. Our agent put them in contact with Bobbin. About a month later, we got word of a new bounty that’s gone out to everyone. It’s Bobbin. They didn’t even know his real name. Just the tag. Find and kill the hacker Bobbin. And the price is insane.”

“You warned him, didn’t you?” Reyer said.

He noticed the edges of her eyes were crinkled again.

He looked down at the empty shot glass. “Miss Sniper, that is not something a mercenary would do.”

“But a fighter would.” When his eyes darted over to her, she said, “Loyalty matters.”

“Yes,” Cays admitted, “I warned him. There were times I might’ve killed the little twerp myself—for free! But to be paid to do it? And by the same person who’d hired him to do work?” Cays’ face twisted in disgust. “I told him to disappear.”

“Did he?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Is he alive?”

“The bounty’s never been claimed. I don’t know if that means he’s alive, but at least an assassin hasn’t got him.”

Reyer drew on the table with some of the smeared liqueur. “But she didn’t try to have you killed. Or any of the assassins.”

“No. Only Bobbin.”

“Why him?”

“That’s another thing that’s bothered me. I don’t know for sure…but I suspect he learned who they were while he was doing the job for them.”

“He doesn’t usually know?”

“None of us do. Our agent goes through a lot of trouble to keep our clients anonymous. We give them designations, but we don’t use their real names. Even if I was going in for a protection job, I wouldn’t always know who was paying the bill.”

“Then how do you know it wasn’t Kumar that hired you?”

“I think”—Cays pulled his own neglected glass out from the edge of the table—“that we both owe each other a few shots.”

Reyer groaned. He poured.

“Rules are rules, Miss Sniper. You drink and then you ask a question.”

“No, you drink, and then you get asked a question.”

“Either way, there’s not enough drinking going on.”

They raised their glasses to each other and emptied them.

As they lowered their glasses, Cays said, “The person who put up the bounty on Bobbin had the same designation as the person who hired me. But the last contract was created after Kumar was dead.”

When Alix nodded to acknowledge his logic, she felt her head swim. It didn’t stop until she rested it in her hand. With her forehead still in her palm, she glanced up at Cays. There was a hint of a smile on his face.

“I don’t suppose you’d tell me if you knew where Bobbin was?” she said.

“Not a chance, Miss Sniper. You’re much too good at killing people.”

“That’s two shots for refusing to answer.”

Cays filled both glasses. “One for me, one for you. That’s two.”

Reyer pulled hers closer but didn’t pick it up. “Would you tell me who hired you if you knew?”

“I would’ve given you their name in a second, and for the same reason.”

“Oh? You think they deserve to die?”

The empty shot glass clattered to its side when Cays roughly placed it on the table. He gestured with the arm he wasn’t leaning on. “You bring us in to help with your dirty secrets, and then you pay to have someone kill us? No. That’s not gratitude. That’s not how this is done.”

Reyer nodded again. The vertigo was bad enough this time she had to put down her glass so she could hold her head with both hands. The drink sat between them. When she looked up, Cays was leaning back in his seat with his arms folded.

“All right, you win,” she said.

“I win?”

She pushed the glass toward him. “I’m done for the night. I guess I can’t keep up with you.”

“You only said you’d surprise me, and you did.”

“I guess that’s something to be proud of.” She laughed at herself. “Now I have to figure out how to be drunk with a cane.”

Cays smiled. “Do you need any help out? It might not be as good as a kiss, but at least the captain would be irritated.”

“Thank you, but I think I’ll manage.” She made it to her feet. “And if I’m not wrong, he’s already irritated.”

The mercenary leaned over far enough he could get a good look. “I think you might be right.” He straightened up. “Thank you, Miss Sniper. That was fun.”

“It was.” Reyer put out her hand to shake.

When Cays let go, he lifted her shot glass. “One more question?”

Reyer sighed, but she took the glass and drank. “One more.”

“How did you learn my name?”

“Tory Desrouch.”

Cays was addled enough it took him a moment to recall the name. “I know him. He was with me before breaking away to focus on solo jobs. I thought he died in prison.”

“He died in the custody of the Supremacy military. But not all of him.”

“Miss Sniper—”

“Sorry, Cays, the rest of the questions will have to wait for another game.” She put the glass down on the table with a final clink and walked away.

Cays watched as the captain stood up to join her. After the door swung shut, the mercenary sat back and poured the last of the bottle into his glass. It only filled it halfway. He still drank it, then leaned back to think.