Coyote-Coyote
Xocoh Zonnie is back, and getting into trouble. Just the way we like it.
Xocoh Zonnie is back, and getting into trouble. Just the way we like it.
So. It's been a rough couple of months, as you may have intuited. This is the story I started working on back in early July. Or, rather, it's the first part of what I think will wind up being a 5-part series. The first three parts are written (Patreon folk, check the Dropbox link) but I don't think I can wrap the rest of it up in Part 4, so... here we are. Anyway. It's a coyote story, featuring everyone's favorite coyote Xocoh, doing what Xoc does best, namely being her charming, drug-filled, inimitable self. Writing this has been reasonably cathartic, and I hope y'all enjoy it although you are getting the rest of it whether you do or not so you might as well just pretend for my sake :P Patreon subscribers, this should also be live for you with notes and maps and stuff. Special thanks to Spudz not just for helping me with this but for being here for me through the... everything. He's a good dog. Go pet him.
Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute--as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.
Written for and dedicated to the best 'yote this dog could ever have hoped to know. I miss you so much.
The Trouble With Coyotes, Vol. 2. by Rob Baird
Part 1: "Coyote-Coyote"
"Hey! It's the coyote."
Xocoh didn't see who was speaking. She did, however, know that there were no other coyotes in the bar. "The coyote?" she asked, without turning.
"The one who found that lost city. They say she's--"
***
"One of the best treasure-hunters in this half of the Confed. Didn't you tell me that?"
Xoc flashed a coyote grin at Maria Kalva, who was not in the mood to receive it. "I_am_, as it happens," she teased.
The ocelot scowled. "We've been walking for two days."
"I like hiking, too. We're almost there."
She couldn't_blame_ Maria's caution. The moors were featureless, and the rock was rich in tellanite ore that frustrated their orbital scanners. Xoc had committed the map to her memory, because the map itself did not exist.
A map existed. And a coyote who had downloaded the planet's topography into a hologram she could superimpose on it with an old hydraulic survey, and some borrowed software for erosion modeling, and the fragmentary records of the Garmuda Epic that told of the end of King Hofan the Great.
Also an injection of beta toralazine that kept her awake for the duration of the time it had taken to piece all the information together, until she was all but hallucinating the final elements that slotted neatly into place like a jigsaw puzzle only she could see.
Maria didn't know the fine details. The young ocelot was an amateur--mostly just bankrolling the trip, and in thrall to Xoc's recounting of what they might find. "You've been saying that for hours, 'yote."
"No I haven't. I've said we were 'getting closer.' I didn't say we were 'almost there' until just now. And, hey--will you look?"
The moor_ended_ in a sheer granite cliff, the western edge of a canyon three hundred meters across. The ocelot scrambled forward, her nerves failing her only at the very edge. "It's... here?" she asked. Xoc watched her drop the scanning visor over her right eye. "The river's almost a kilometer down."
"It's not a river. We're at the junction of two plates--that's seawater at the bottom."
"How is that even_possible_? We're almost a hundred kilometers from the coast..."
It was a big galaxy. A lot of things were_possible_, although Maria didn't seem to be especially well traveled. Xocoh scooted up to join her, and put an arm around the feline's shoulders. "Mm-hm. Quite the view, isn't it?"
"Where's the tomb?"
"If my_map_ is correct, it should be... hmm." She unhooked a drone from her pack, and tossed it into the air. "Hmm, hmm. Might take a bit of patience."
The drone was only slowly filling in its sweep of the canyon walls. "How much patience?"
She rolled her eyes, and kissed the ocelot's cheek. "Not enough to have my way with you again, unfortunately. I think you'll find it's... there. Right there: that's the entrance."
"Halfway down the cliff," Maria breathed.
"I did say we were_almost_ to it," she felt obliged to point out. "And this rock will hold."
Maria didn't have to ask_what_ it would hold, because the coyote had already pulled her grappling gun out at that point, and fired it into the ground beneath them. Stone, briefly molten, hissed and crackled as the cryo charge in the penetrator froze it into a usefully strong crystal.
And, satisfied, the coyote leapt over the edge.
"God_damn_ it!" Maria's voice came over the radio, right in her ear. A pause. "Are you alive?"
She had, in fact, only fallen a hundred meters or so, to a plateau strong enough to catch her with the help of the coyote's antigravity boots. That had not been necessary--none of it had been_necessary_. But nor was she about to pass up the opportunity of feeling the cool air rushing past, and the thrill of her stomach dropping out. "I'm fine. Are you coming?"
She'd already decided what the problem was with kids like Maria. They were in it for the money. They had no sense of adventure, of_excitement_. The ocelot tried--she hadn't complained about the trek, and she was already making her own way down. But she felt for handholds, and she took the cliff five or ten meters at a time.
Xoc waited at the entrance to the tomb for the better part of an hour. Just inside, her flashlight caught sight of ancient glyphs carved into the stone, and the shadowy hint of constructs further inside. Other cracks in the cliffside, not all of them natural, carried hints of sunlight further in.
They still had most of the day. And Maria's mood had improved markedly. "You were right," she gasped, seeing it all for the first time. "It's just like the drawings."
"I don't think anybody came back after they abandoned it. We get to be the first."
"Yeah. What--what are you doing?"
"Survey scanner." Xocoh left it to its work, and motioned for Maria to follow her. "Collect as much about the site as we can. I don't expect your contacts to treat this place very gently once we turn over the salvage claim. Do you?"
"No. But... so?"
"I can't translate this on the fly. Who knows what they're talking about, right? Other rulers, maybe--with other tombs. Where do you think I get my information from?"
"I figured it was mostly drugs and underworld contacts."
"That, too," she admitted. "Even if it's just about_this_ site, it'll probably mention what's supposed to be here. So if someone tries to stiff us later..."
"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."
The coyote grinned. "See? Sometimes I have good ideas."
She did not admit the real reason for the survey module, which was her friend Dr. Ribeiro. The jaguar was a professor of archaeology, and sensitive to the loss of historical artifacts. Also, occasionally, a criminal like Xocoh Zonnie herself... but he didn't like to_think_ of himself that way.
And, while Xoc didn't respect that enough to give up the profession--nor had he asked--she did try to spare his feelings. She'd told the ocelot a partial truth, in that she suspected there_were_ bigger finds waiting on Shakhari III. Secretly--Maria didn't seem to have any idea, at least, and here there was no point in cluing here in--she hoped the king's tomb would point her in the right direction.
Even if it didn't, the survey modules gave her a better sense of what they were in for. The two were the first visitors in countless centuries, and some of the structures had once been supported by scaffolding that had long since rotted away. Xocoh was used to this, picking her way with deceptive care from one to the next, making cautious use of her boots when she had to.
Maria, on the other hand, was_not_ used to it. She didn't seem to grasp how dangerous old tombs could be. Xocoh hopped across the empty space spanned by a missing rope bridge, and flinched at the way the stone beneath her cracked. "Hold on," she ordered, holding her paw up to stop the ocelot.
"Why? This is the only way forward, isn't it?"
"The only way I_know_ of, yes. This is no good, though."
"It's_stone_. We're in an old cave. How dangerous can it be?"
"Dangerous_enough_. Wait here and I'll try to find another path."
Maria rolled her eyes. "I can come with you. It's not a bad jump. And there's room on that platform."
"It won't take us both. I'll handle it."
"I don't weigh any more than you do, 'yote."
"Yeah, but we don't cancel each other out, do we, kitty? Give me a sec and I'll--"
Two things happened at once. The first was that Maria rolled her eyes, and made to leap, and the second was that Xoc's head snapped up, zeroed in on the most solid purchase above her, and fired her grapple in its direction.
The ocelot landed a second later. For a moment, the platform held. Then the ancient, eroded stone gave way, and Xocoh barely got her arm around the feline before she tumbled. There was a squeal, and the feeling of sharp claws digging in to her shoulder, and a lurch that sent them careening into the wall.
Then stillness, and Maria's rapid panting. "Oh, fuck."
"What did I tell you? I told you!" Xocoh growled. "Do you not listen? Do I need to be louder?"
Maria let the coyote go, finding purchase for her own grapple and securing the other end to her suit. "It looked pretty stable... I..."
"How have you gotten this far and not learned that if a_coyote_ tells you something might be dangerous..." Xocoh shook her head. It spoke to a certain lack of self-preservation. "Anyway. Now instead of taking a nice seat over there, you get to hang out here for a bit."
"I--"
"You want to argue with me twice?"
She didn't. Xocoh pulled herself onto solid ground and adjusted her boots for a series of quick hops that took her into the central chamber. The door splintered and crumbled when she pressed on it, leaving a cloud of dust that billowed into the glowing shafts of mid-afternoon sunlight.
And settled, gradually, on what remained.
What remained was a dazzling kaleidoscope. Gems nearly the size of the coyote's fist studded the silvered features, placed carefully so that as she paced the room the patterns reflected off one another in rippling, ever-changing patterns. Gold filigree, carefully worked into the silver, told the story of the ruler's life in the angular intricacy of Old Garmudic runes.
The ones who hired her would loot the tomb with the minimum degree of care required--pry the silver off the wall in blocks, and send it to whichever private collections were willing to pay for millennia-old poetry. Such tombs were too common to be worth preserving whole--definitely not worth leaving intact where they were found.
Even so, she placed a few more survey modules and let them work.
Not worth it for you, Sancho. It's definitely Hofan the Great, and in decent shape for one of these. Doesn't look like anything remarkable in the text, though. Nothing new in the jeweled lenses, either. She paused, and snickered; it would be audible in the recording. I know, I know. It's the principle of the thing.
Here's the deal: The amateurs who hired me didn't even know to ask about the Crypt of Tarol. I bet you don't know, either. Do a bit of poking. Try to feel out Dr. Gedirri. He's at Leporia now. If you think he might bite, I... have a hunch. Let's call it a hunch. And you know where to find me.
The modules chimed a minute later; she collected them, downloaded the data to a spare crystal, and scrubbed the local storage--never knew when something else might catch her eye. The actual work of prying a gemstone free took only a few seconds. Between the emerald and the polished silver band designed as its reflector, she had what she needed for a salvage claim.
Maria, timing her swings on the rope carefully, had returned to more stable ground closer to the entrance. The experience had left her sufficiently chastened that she forgot to be disappointed at having been left behind when the coyote returned. "Well? Did you find the king's resting place?"
"Impossible to say."
She blinked. "Did... did you find_anything_?"
Xocoh closed most of the distance between them in two jumps, one pushing off the cave wall--it was more stable, and unlike the ocelot she knew how to use her boots for a physics-spiting sideways leap. Near enough that there was no way to miss, she tossed the gem over. "How's this?"
"Oh.Oh," Maria repeated, turning the jewel over in her eager paws. "You found this?"
She held up the silver reflector next. "Yeah. This'll be fine proof. I told you I knew what I was doing."
One final bound brought her next to the feline, who took the band, eyeing the writing inscribed on it curiously, and slid it into a protected pocket of her jacket. Then she pulled the coyote in, and kissed her cheek. "I didn't_doubt_ you. One of the best treasure-hunters in this half of the Confed. Right?"
Xocoh grinned. "Too many words."
"The best treasure-hunter. How's that? Should I call for pickup now?"
"Yep! I'd say go ahead."
Their pilot was a German shepherdess named Rensselaer--Xoc didn't know if she also had a last name--or, if that_was_ her last name, if she also had a first name. In her line of work it generally paid not to ask questions. Besides, the big dog was cute, and the coyote had designs on her: later, by way of celebrating a job well done. She and Maria were a couple, although open to experimenting; after Xocoh had hooked up with Maria in a station bar, Ren had really only seemed disappointed she was busy working. Xocoh owed her.
She already thought she was unlikely to see the pair much in the future. Maria was the most_dedicated_, and the most willing to take risks; Xoc kind of thought Ren probably only went along with it to keep her girlfriend happy. The shepherdess herself was decidedly eager to please, and decent enough of a pilot.
But she'd feel better flying regular freighter runs. Some of the pilots Xocoh worked with would've hung out right above the site, fuel consumption be damned--in case the team on the ground ran into trouble and needed to be hauled out in a hurry. Rensselaer's ship, the_Silver Magpie_, was waiting in a carefully plotted low orbit.
And she delayed her descent for another half-hour while she adjusted the freighter's inclination for a more efficient approach. It gave the pair more than enough time to pull themselves back up to the edge of the cliff, and gather their thoughts.
"How many more of these were there?" Maria asked, holding up the emerald.
"Plenty. Maybe... thirty, in all? They generally describe a significant event in the king's life. They're supposed to draw the eye."
"He must've been quite well-regarded, if he got that treatment."
"No."
"No? I thought you said on the way over that the later era tombs had more treasure in them. Like, as the empire got richer."
"Mm-hm. This isn't a place of honor, though. It's a place of exile. Why do you think it's so inaccessible?"
"What?"
"If a king became too greedy, too focused on material wealth instead of the wellbeing of the realm, his subjects would depose him. Imprison him in one of these places, surrounded by the only thing he evidently cared about. The legends go, he'd be fed and clothed while the artisans carved the story of his life. Once they were done to the approval of the_next_ king, they left and took everything with them."
"It didn't start as a tomb," she realized, her expression darkening. "It_became_ one."
"Eventually."
"That's why you said you didn't know if you'd found his resting place. He could've died anywhere."
"Yep. Can't eat pretty rocks, can you?"
Maria's ears wilted, and she stared with an odd frown at the emerald in her paw. "No."
Along with not asking questions about names, Xocoh had learned not to ask questions concerning how much her partners really knew about the sites they explored. It did bother her, to an extent--how little concern they had, how little they understood what they were plundering, or why it was there for them to steal in the first place.
Miguel Ribeiro would be quick to point out that she didn't have much room to talk, if the jaguar was in one of his_moods_. More charitably, though, he worked with her because of what she knew, or could find out--not just her skill with a grappling hook. Maria and Rensselaer cared only about the latter.
That was fine. The job would still pay well. It had still been fun. Ren, who touched down twenty minutes later, was still very cute. The shepherdess's tail wagged so hard it shook her entire body when she saw the emerald, and listened to Maria recount the whole expedition.
They were using Parchi Station, reclaimed from an asteroid mine, as their base of operations. It was the largest trading post in the system, and a short trip from Shakhari III. Disreputable enough to have its share of miscreants like Xocoh, but not so disreputable that they lacked a connection to the META network or the Confed's banking system.
The three had been sharing a room there. After they landed, Xocoh let Maria and her partner file the salvage claim and collect their payment from whatever sketchy backers Maria was working for. There was no point in showing her face where someone might ask about her involvement.
Instead she took a quick sonic shower, and finished to see a flashing indicator on her computer: she had a message waiting. There was no way Miguel would've replied so quickly; he prided himself on being thorough and thoughtful.And Sancho doesn't want to seem too eager, now, does he? She grinned, thinking about the jaguar--who was, no doubt, trying to think up a response that would convey the right amount of scorn for her profession. But if it wasn't Miguel... Xocoh cocked an eyebrow and called it up.
The message was several hundred words long, but text-only, and all the letters had been scrambled. She brushed her temple, activating the chip in her mind that gave the coyote a sort of aphasia--more specifically, the exactly proper sort to reorder the characters into legible words, and discard the padding intended to make it harder to decrypt.
Folks asking about you. Probably New Families. Stay low, coyote. XOXO. KS.
'KS' would be Satari Kai, the garrulous Akita who was serving as the coyote's current employer, of sorts. The Kai Syndicate had been drifting away from the New Families for a few years, but he still had the connections to be a good source of information.
And she knew he would've had his ear to the ground around Parchi, just in case.Well. She deleted the message. Probably best if I make myself scarce. Gods know, Maria and Ren aren't exactly equipped to deal with that side of the business. It did mean forgoing what she'd planned to do to the cute shepherd girl, but sometimes sacrifices needed to be made.
The coyote was still half-naked from the shower, though--the open field jacket serving as a sort of bathrobe--and she'd barely tugged her pants on when the door slid open
"Oh!" Rensselaer's eyes were wide.
"Sorry."
"Don't be. Not on my account! It makes things easier, anyway."
Xocoh stopped, fingers on the lower button of her jacket, looking at the shepherd curiously. "What?"
"I figured I'd let Maria take care of all the contract stuff. I told her I wanted to spend some time with you. Before we go our separate ways or anything, right? I know it was just the one job for us."
"Yeah. Probably. I kinda freelance..." No point in revealing more than was necessary.At least, from the "sensitive information" point of view--she kept her jacket open.
"Right, that's fine. But I, um... I thought you were teasing me, on the flight back, right? Maria thought so, too. I just got too nervous to tease you back. And--uh, well, Maria was more interested in the payout right then. But she said if I wanted my bonus--God, that's so cheesy. Don't take it like that!"
She was so cute when she was bashful. "I mean..."
"If I misread--"
"You didn't misread," the coyote promised.Would it be suspicious if I found an excuse to leave? Probably. And it wasn't like New Family thugs were going to break down the door right then and there, was it? Really, you're just keeping her from asking any awkward questions. Right?
Not exactly, no. But Ren's ears were perked so hopefully that Xocoh figured the decision could be postponed at least for a minute or two. Long enough to slip her arms around the dog, whose tail immediately began wagging once more as she pulled the coyote to her. "Oh, thank goodness..."
"You're so_troublingly_ cute."
The shepherdess giggled. "You're so troublingly... trouble," was what she settled on, and what Xocoh was used to hearing anyway. So often that it no longer bothered her. It was the kind of trouble that occasionally meant her escapes were closer than she might've wanted, but_also_ meant she wound up in the arms of a strong, very fetching dog.
A dog who, by the tightness of her grip, had been waiting for the opportunity at least since touching down on the planet to retrieve the two. Maria's hints about her girlfriend's endowment were not terribly subtle, and they hadn't gotten up to anything in at least a week, so she'd be awfully pent-up, and... "Ain't seen 'trouble' yet, babe," Xocoh growled, and tilted her muzzle up to seek out the other woman's own.
Ren's lips were hot and soft. Xocoh ran her paws down the shepherdess's back, feeling through her fur, pressing close even as every inhalation filled her nose with the girl's scent. "So you really--"
She cut Ren off with another kiss, slipping her tongue into the dog's muzzle. The shepherdess surrendered with a moan and a shiver, her arms intertwining behind Xocoh's lean back. It_had_ been a decent haul. It was about to get more decent. That mattered significantly more than the fine details of a payout.
Close as they were, she could feel stiffening resistance at Ren's crotch. Xoc groped her; the shepherd girl tensed, and muttered a breathless apology into the kiss. For how quickly it was happening, perhaps, or for how shameless the two of them had become. Either way, the coyote was more than willing to go along with--
The door--which she had locked--chimed twice, and then unlocked itself with a click. Ren extricated herself from the coyote, although she was still out of breath and Xocoh was still wearing nothing beneath her open field jacket. "Uh. Um. Hi, babe," the shepherdess stammered.
"Yeah."
Xoc immediately disliked the ocelot's tone. She did not need to tell herself to_be cool_ any more than she needed to tell Maria, although she could guess what was about to happen from the other woman's nervous tension... even before she pulled her right paw free of her jacket, and pointed a small blaster at the coyote. "Hi?" Xocoh tried gamely to smile.
"Did you know there's a bounty on your head?"
"No," she answered. This was the truth, although whether or not there was a bounty out for her tended to vary on a day-by-day basis. "Is it a lot?"
"It's pretty big. I heard some pretty interesting stories talking to my contact in the bar."
"Did you tell him I was working with you?"
"No." The gun was still leveled at her, although Xocoh had her doubts it was even loaded. "I just overheard some things. Interesting things," she repeated.
How did you just 'overhear' them if you were 'talking' to your contact? "That's probably fortunate for you. Out here, a bounty would be New Families stuff, I guess. Wonder what I did. Oh. No, maybe I can guess. It was probably--"
"I don't want to know." The ocelot shook her head quickly. "Look. I didn't turn you in. If you want to_stay_ not turned in, make me an offer."
"You're the one holding all the cards here. I don't even have a shirt on.You make the offer."
"Your share of the claim. All of it."
Xocoh feigned hesitation. "Not_all_ of it. I gotta have enough for a ticket off this rock, right?"
"That's fair," Ren suggested hopefully. The coyote gave an inward smile; Ren_was_ a good girl, and that pleased her. "That's fair, right?"
"Your weapon, too. We can barter for that."
"A gun? I don't have a gun." Maria gestured with her own to the scorch-marks on Xocoh's field jacket. "I didn't get these by blasting_myself_. If you want to barter and sell the weapons of anybody shooting at me, be my guest."
"The survey modules, then. There must be data on them--all that stuff you collected while you_went on ahead and left me behind_. I wouldn't know what was on them, would I? But I bet it's good."
"I, uh. Uh. I erased them. They're not worth much."
Maria narrowed her eyes. "The survey modules, and I'll give you five hundred credits from your share."
"If you want some empty scanners..."
"The modules," her erstwhile partner repeated. Xocoh sighed heavily, went through her pack, and handed the modules over to the ocelot. Ren cleared her throat, and Xoc found a handful of Confed credit chips pressed into her paw. She slid them into her pocket, pulled on a shirt, and opened her muzzle for some parting remarks that Maria cut off with a scowl.
And then, rather unceremoniously, she was kicked out and into the hotel corridor.That's okay, Xoc thought. The conversation had taught her a few things. For one, there was no bounty--the New Families wouldn't have let Maria out of their sight if they thought she knew where Xocoh was.
No, Maria must've let slip that she was working with Xoc and heard enough hints that she got greedy when she heard who the coyote worked for and surmised she was after bigger fish. Removing her name from the archaeological find would probably keep both Xoc_and_ the couple safe, at least for the foreseeable future: there was no legal evidence that the two had been connected, and the money would salve Maria's disappointment when she examined the scanners.
All of which raised the question of what her pursuers_were_ after. She made her way to the front desk and paid for a room in cash. Twice--the second as a courtesy to the hotel's owner, so that he would forget which room, exactly, he'd rented out and to whom.
She didn't feel tired in the slightest, and she was in good spirits. Nothing else remained but to take two hits of acid and wait. She turned the lights down, poured herself a glass of water, and sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed until her head began to reel. When she curled her paw into a fist, the claws seemed to keep going, sinking into her palm. They snapped back into place when she looked at them.
Almost.
Twenty minutes later, the act of wiggling her fingers left an afterimage that dissolved into eerie fractals. Xocoh grinned, lay back on the bed, and waved her paw to switch the room's holographic display on. Calling up the data from the surveying modules took_ages_, an aching eternity of watching the maps appear one at a time on the ceiling.
But she knew ahead of time it would do so, like she'd known ahead of time what Maria was planning. Nor was she confused when, after that eternity had passed, an offhand glance at the computer told her it had only been four seconds. The coyote's mind was racing.
The data rippled and pulsed, terrain contours shifting.Crypt, she thought. Show me a crypt. And she stared at the maps until the colors burned so bright it was almost painful. She received no answer. The coyote spun her paw, overlaying what she'd recorded on site and focusing on that instead.
Sparks burned along the edges of the hologram, splintering and burning their way into her brain. There was_something_ interesting about the text, something that beckoned to her. Sang, with distant and almost inaudible words. She could almost, but not quite, hear a melody thrumming underneath it.
Timeless. You're hearing the universe, she thought to herself, and then rolled her eyes at doing so. "Why would you say that? You're always hearing the universe."
Another voice answered. "The song stays the same. What you need to filter out so you can listen to the melody, though, that changes. That's the trick." It was her own voice. A shadow in the corner of the room shimmered languidly until it formed the silhouette of a coyote, leaning comfortably against the wall.
"Is there a melody?"
"I think so," the other coyote said. "You think so. Be quiet."
She obeyed, for a spell, until she became aware that the silhouette was humming to herself. And, as she hummed, the tomb glyphs swirled and danced with one another. They drifted, like dust motes hanging in a sunbeam. Like leaves, dropping to the earth. Like--
"No. Don't be stupid. Words are not Brownian motion, bumping awkwardly against each other--are they, coyote?"
"Of course not, coyote," Xocoh muttered. "This is a curse."
"You're a curse," the silhouette teased. "But it is, isn't it? They invoke the goddess Ashinti. Eshnet, in the Garmuda Epic from the Middle Era, who must certainly have been the same as--"
She waved her paw to shut the woman up. "Yes, yes. Eshnet must be the same as Shenit in the Southern Song of the Wanderer, and Sennithi in the Kemer codex. I already know that.Everyone knows that. C'mon. Why are they using Ashinti's name?"
"Ashinti protects Tarol."
Xocoh glared at the silhouette, which rippled into insubstantial wisps under the intensity. "I_know that_, too. Some help you are."
"I'm a coyote. Why would I be helpful?"
"I'm a coyote. We can be..." She stared at the text, waiting for the translator in her neural implant to catch up. "Hey. Okay, they're using Ashinti's name because this is a post-Middle Garmudic site, then, is that it? That's what you're--we're--getting at?"
"Hmm..." The shadowy coyote on the wall had reformed, and seemed to be be waggling its ears. "If it's from after the Middle Era, than why do they refer to Tarol's home as 'locked'?"
"That's what I was missing," she breathed. "They_did_ know where it was. It's--"
"And that declension. Coyote, they're referring to it as a real thing, not a myth."
"Uh-huh. Yes. But--it's in a place that the Kingdom had lost access to. One of the breakaway principalities. Here, uh--the map! The equatorial islands, weren't those independent by this era? Fuck. Fuck, this resolution is horrible. Why don't I have better imagery?"
"Being pulled from public records."
"Ugh. You're right. I didn't bother copying over the scans we took on the descent."
"They'd still be on the_Magpie_. We could ask Ren."
Xocoh shook her head in the darkness. "I'm not sure Ren's gonna do me any favors. No telling what Maria's told her."
"We could hack in and steal it. There's no way she has her network secured well enough to put up much of a fight. This room's gotta have a META link you can turn into a microphasic transponder--Norakari cascade your way into the auxiliary net and open a secure port. They'll probably be distracted right now, getting ready to leave. We know where they're docked, won't have to have the N-cascade running long enough to trip any alarms. And, I mean... she kind of deserves it for that betrayal and all..."
"We've done our share. Satari won't be happy to learn we're keeping this from him."
"Oh, he'll understand," the silhouette countered. "We'll be sticking it to the New Families again, right? He loves drama like that. 'Oi, yotie, those cunts were_furious_. You shoulda seen the look on their faces, ha!'"
Her accent was atrocious. Xocoh giggled. "True. Alright. We'll decide for certain when I come down. Which of us is on point then? You or me?"
The shadow flinched, as if embarrassed at the implications of the question. "We're the same coyote, coyote. It's not like we're separate personalities. You're just high right now. You do know that, don't you?"
"Jesus, don't patronize me," she told herself. "I mean: am I going to try and stay responsible, or do I want to be more impulsive?"
"More fun, you mean? Drink your water. Look, I can be responsible, too." She waited to speak again until Xocoh had drained the cup. "See?Anyway. Skip the toralazine this time. Put on some music and have fun watching it while I figure this out..."
"Are you sure?"
"Coyote..."
She put on some music.
It was a trip of reasonable length, and with all the excitement she came down harder than she intended. For the moment there was none of the usual exhilaration: she was exhausted, and when she passed out it was well into evening by the time she rose again. Someone was buzzing the door alarm. She checked the outside camera.
It was Ren. Xocoh tilted her head. "How'd you find me?"
"Uh. I just... I asked around a little. Are you, um. Are you doing okay?"
She let the shepherdess in before answering. "I'm doing fine. You? Maria?"
"We're... she's okay. I guess I'm okay, too. I felt a little bad about... about what happened, you know?"
Xocoh was in a good, if_impulsive-you-mean-fun_ mood. "Us getting interrupted, or your girlfriend sticking me up? It's all part of the game, Ren."
"She said there wasn't anything on the modules." Ren paused, thinking about whether to say anything else, and then--seeing the coyote's smile--laughed quietly. "She said it seemed like something you'd do. I guess she didn't mind too much. Well, the claim's gonna be plenty of money as it is. You... are you_sure_ you're gonna be alright without it?"
"Oh, yeah. Don't worry about anything, sheppy."
Ren flicked one of her ears. "Um.Anything? Us getting interrupted, too?"
Xocoh had half-wondered if it was, at least, in_part_ still on the girl's mind. She could, without too much effort, allow it to be on her mind--that was for damned sure. And so she slid her arms around the dog, and pulled herself close, and grinned a fun-impulsive grin. "I dunno. If it doesn't happen a second time, maybe I could forgive you..."
"It won't happen a second time," Ren promised. "I'm sorry."
"How sorry?"
Apology or no, she didn't protest when Xoc pulled the dog's shirt off. Her breasts weren't much larger than the rangy coyote's, which made them ideally suited for the grope that filled Xocoh's paw, and a teasing brush of her nimble fingers over the girl's nipple.
She didn't protest when Xoc slid to her knees, either, and unfastened Ren's pants. The shepherdess wanted it nearly as badly, she figured; Ren was trembling, and sucked her breath in when the coyote stroked her sheath experimentally.
Her post-trip impulsiveness meant Xocoh was also in a_beg-forgiveness_ mood, not an ask-permission one. Her tongue followed, working up the dog's shaft for each hint of her novel taste. Subtler, softer--not the heady scent of masculine arousal that could, now and then, get its hooks into Xoc's brain and drive her to greater feats of coyotedom.
Encouraging anyway, though. She took Ren between her lips and suckled down, breathing a soft "good girl" as the shepherd spilled more freely in her muzzle. And soon enough the other canine was gasping raggedly, her eyes shut and her ears starting to lay back. Xoc grinned wickedly, her muzzle bobbing in rhythmic, easy strokes.
It occurred to her, mouth full of shepherd dick and Ren starting to buck and quiver, that she could probably ask for the favor to be repaid. Ren_was_ a good girl; she'd take commands well. She'd have an abundantly eager canine tongue of her own...
But they only had so much time before Xocoh would wind up discovered, and the coyote felt other needs had a higher priority to be slaked. She sat back on her heels, let the shepherdess slip free, and stroked her length with a paw while she glanced up. "You been tied recently, Ren?"
"No." The admission was shaky. Xoc could almost_taste_ the anticipation.
"You should change that." She had her field jacket off even as she stood up again; kicked her pants off while she spun from Ren and onto the unmade bunk. The sheets were disheveled, but they had yet to be_properly_ mussed, and she wasn't planning on spending another night--which, to her way of thinking, meant she had a limited window of opportunity.
Rensselaer watched Xoc settle in, and spread her legs, and gave up. Her own jeans were gone in an instant; her athletic body was heavy and warm over the other woman's. Xoc had long since grown to appreciate how_direct_ pilots could be, and how skilled. And how eager.
She tangled her fingers in Ren's long mane, pulling the girl in close. Kissing her; letting the shepherdess do the work of guiding herself to the waiting coyote. Ren thrust as soon as she felt warmth. Slick with precum and Xoc's saliva, her cock sank in easily. Everything the coyote had been telling herself,planning for: long, and hard, and hot, pushing deeper and deeper inside.
Ren didn't stop until she was buried to the hilt, and she crushed her muzzle to Xoc's in a desperate kiss that the coyote returned with the same breathless hunger. She managed to hold it, too, when her lover began to rock her hips in full, sure pumps. She held it when Ren's eyes slitted and she started to rock harder. Held it as the shepherd's tongue speared into her muzzle.
Held it until her own back arched and she cried out with the giddy pleasure of taking Ren's length. Maria had been fun enough,definitely skilled with her fingers, but nothing compared to being filled like she was now: a swelling canine shaft hilted, throbbing; the strong woman's body bucking and flexing as she took the desert canid deep.
Maybe Maria wasn't up to being knotted. Cats could be like that. It had taken Xoc a while to come around to barbs, for that matter. Ren fucked like it had been far too long since she'd had her cock in a willing bitch: fast and increasingly uneven, rough and animalistic.
And_there_ was the knot. Xoc hissed another tense "good girl" to Ren, if she needed the assistance. The shepherdess growled and slammed in harder. She was just ramming the coyote full now, rutting her down powerfully into the bunk. Her cock threatened to catch and lock into place--
Which meant it threatened to catch and lock out of place, and there was a demanding pressure building up in Xocoh's own body. She hooked her legs around the shepherd girl and squeezed, keeping her close. Keeping her all the way inside. Keeping her knot secure until it was tugging and buffeting her in a short, frantic rhythm.
She flung herself over the edge like she had at the cliffside, howling with the thrilling rush of it. Her fingers tugged at Ren's hair, her other arm locked around the woman's back, and she squirmed as orgasm rolled through her. A good, long climax, her folds clenching around the pulsing shaft spreading them.
Ren had none of Maria's hesitation. As Xocoh lost herself the shepherdess kept up her swift, frenetic humping. Her knot spread wider, a fullness in the coyote that was almost_aching_, had her caught between the ecstasy of its throbbing bulk sending gratifying ripples into her everywhere it nudged and tugged and the dawning awareness of how much bigger than the coyote Ren was, how physical and complete her domination had become...
But she was still right at her peak, or just coming down, when Ren growled and shivered and_pushed_. And jolted, her whole length flexing before a wet spray gushed in the coyote's depths. It was a shockingly warm, shockingly deep eruption--Ren was surging again and again now, her paws fixed on the coyote's shoulders, holding Xoc tight as her cunt was swiftly overcome.
Xocoh yelped her heated encouragements as best she could, rocking on the shepherdess's buried knot, working for a second climax that hit finally just as Ren was collapsing on her chest, fighting for breath, moaning the name of the coyote she'd just bred while Xoc's eyes rolled back and she lost herself to the world.
The dog was little more recovered when Xoc could see again, still washing the coyote's ear with her shallow panting. Xocoh grinned, and hugged the shepherd girl tightly. And smoothed down her hair until Rensselaer was capable of speech. "That was so good..."
"Very good," Xoc agreed.
"I'm gonna miss you," Ren murmured. She pressed her lips to the coyote's, who returned the kiss just as tenderly. "It's a real shame we can't keep working together."
"Well. Maybe Maria will come around. Let bygones be bygones, or whatever..."
The shepherdess grunted, and shook her head. "She's not the type. She won't trust you now."
"See? And--I'd like to note, here--she's the one who betrayed_me_. Right? So I gotta pay the rent somehow. Especially since I'm not making anything off this job."
Ren grunted again. "Yeah, I know. I wish all that hadn't happened."
"Tell you what, though. Think of it like a gift." Xocoh smoothed the other woman's hair down, until she could run her fingers through it without them catching. Ren had beautiful, lustrous hair. She was, indeed, rather fetching all 'round. "I'm giving it to you."
"Me?"
"You and Maria. You know my reputation, right?"
Rensselaer shifted around, pushing herself up on an elbow to look down at the coyote. "Well. Yeah..." The dog was trying to figure out if she'd been offered an_excuse_ or a threat.
It was both. "So you probably figure that if I'd wanted to make things harder for you, I could've. But I didn't. Easy come, easy go."
"It wasn't_really_ a gift, though, was it?"
"It is now. Besides, it's better if I wasn't here. If Maria's right about people being after me, it was always gonna be better if I wasn't on the contract. Safer for you, easier for me to slip away..."
My reputation clearly echoed, for the shepherdess's eyes darkened. "Safer for us? We're not in danger, are we? Is... is Maria? I told her that bar was a..." She grumbled an incoherent growl, unable to find the right words. "A wretched hive, is what. Full of all the worst kinds of people."
"Like the one you found me at?"
"Well... maybe. But it looked even rougher. I guess... well, don't take this the wrong way, but you're probably better at finding your way around those kinds of places than we are."
"Probably! That's all part of the game, too. I'm used to it."
Ren perked her ear up, hopefully. "Well, if you say so, maybe it is... will you be okay?"
"I'm a coyote," Xoc promised. "Of course I will be. I just have... I want to think about some things. It's nothing dangerous."
They cuddled until the shepherd's knot slipped free, and a bit more beyond that, until Xocoh felt Ren's seed starting to trickle from her and rolled away to go get cleaned up.I'll miss those two, she thought. The dog in particular, whose heart seemed to be in the right place and whose cock most certainly had been. Maria could probably be set on something more like a straight course, after her attempt at a double-cross failed to pay off.
Probably.
After Ren left, she gathered her scanty belongings and considered her next steps. First would be finding out if Satari had managed to arrange transport for her. Next would be taking that transport--or whatever else she could find--off the station to someplace safer. Then, she could see what Miguel thought about the information she'd sent him.
Well... no. First, she went to the front desk, where the same man she'd checked in with was on duty. "Good job giving out my room number."
"What? Oh! Oh, the shep girl."
"That was_supposed_ to be a secret, I kinda figured." She narrowed her eyes at him, and the man began to wither. "Didn't I tip you for that?"
"She... she looked_really_ upset, though. And pretty harmless. You know how good they are at begging, right? With those eyes..."
It wasn't a_terrible_ point. She sighed, and decided he was right about Ren being harmless. There were more important things for her to focus on. There were no further messages, but Satari wouldn't have left her hanging. Either she wasn't being pursued closely enough to merit another warning, or he didn't trust the station's messaging system. In the central plaza, she snagged a liquid meal from one of the vending machines and looked over the directory while the nutrients did their work.
Parchi Station controlled most trade into and within the Shakhari system, which meant that its small population supported an outsized number of shops and restaurants and services, for sailors and stevedores alike. There were half a dozen bars where the coyote might be able to find a drink and some useful information.Which would the Kai Syndicate be friendliest with, hmm?
She avoided the high-end taverns, and the one closest to the docking bays--there would be_information_, there, but also too many prying eyes, sticking close to their ships for a quick getaway. Based on what Ren told her, that was also where Maria had closed out her contract--overall too risky. Xocoh settled on a divey pub in the next zone out: the industrial area, full of workshops and starship maintenance facilities.
It was the right crowd, she knew at once. Partly it was the look of the clientele: mechanics and engineers, not tramp captains looking for cargo or smugglers looking for available tramp captains or bounty hunters looking for either. Partly it was the simple menu, hand-lettered behind the bar over computer screens that had probably been dead for years.
Mostly it helped that the other patrons were clearly plugged in to the rumor network, because she'd only been seated for a minute before she heard someone say: "Hey! It's the coyote."
Xocoh didn't see who was speaking. She did, however, know that there were no other coyotes in the bar when she entered. "The coyote?" she asked, without turning.
"The one who found that lost city. They say she's trouble. A real... a real_coyote_-coyote."
"I wouldn't know anything about that."
The voice said nothing else. But the exchange had caught the bartender's attention, and he wandered over. She had picked the bar deliberately, and the fox's jaded expression told her that she'd made the right choice. "Get you anything?"
"Maybe. Do you have... mm. You got Ressik?"
He gave her a dry, acutely judging stare, eyes narrowing until they were sharp as his age-whitened muzzle. "Does it look like we're in fuckin' Neshoba?"
"No, but it looks like you're a man of exquisite taste. Maybe, like, a private collection?" She held up a 50-credit chip, as a hint.
"If I had exquisite taste, why would I keep that swill in stock? Maybe my deadbeat brother or something. Let me check." The scowl had only deepened--but he_did_ take the money, and disappeared into the back. A minute later he returned, with a dusty half-liter bottle of Ressik pilsener. "You want a glass, too?"
"Please."
While he went to fetch it, she twisted the cap halfway, triggering the integrated unit that cooled the beer immediately to the temperature that the Ressik brewery preferred: cold, cold enough to render anything that came out of Port Neshoba marginally palatable.
The bartender slid a coaster across the counter, and thumped a heavy glass stein atop it. Xocoh poured the beer carefully, nodding her appreciation for the effort. "Thanks. I hope it wasn't your last or anything."
"Probably could round up a keg of reactor coolant or something, if you want." With that, rolling his eyes, he left her alone to drink.
Condensation glued the coaster to the bottom of the stein when she took the first drink--Ressik, so far as Xoc was concerned, would always count as perfectly serviceable, and at least what they'd had on stock was a few months before its expiration date. She watched the activity in the bar idly, savoring the beer.
On the second drink, she held the coaster down.BAY 6B. 2330. The writing was in temperature-sensitive ink, triggered by the cold drink. Exposure to the air, and the lighting in the bar, degraded it rapidly; in seconds, there was no trace of the message. Xocoh's next drink was longer and more contemplative.
The bartender had drifted back over. "What happened to your friends? The cat and the shep girl?"
So word had traveled, and he_definitely_ knew who she was. "On to better things, I imagine."
"Coulda told you that, coyote."
"I know, I know. What's life without a little excitement, though?"
"Do you really believe that?"
She felt in her pocket for where she kept her iridium--good, untraceable currency out on the frontier. She tucked a strip worth a few hundred credits under the coaster nonchalantly as she reached for the stein again. "I think so. I find it's a philosophy that really comes in handy."
"It might," he agreed. "It just might at that. Some of these other patrons, you know... heard from the cat that you weren't packing, and..."
"And they're not as appreciative of coyotes?"
"May you live in interesting times." The bartender shrugged. "Give it a couple minutes."
"A couple?"
"Maybe two. You seem to be the 'interesting' part of that phrase."
It was a little past 10 in the evening, and the note on her coaster had said 2330. Xocoh clucked her tongue. "Sorry," she muttered. "I'll be quick."
Ninety seconds later, the door to the bar slid open. Her back was to it, and she couldn't make out_details_ in the reflection of the dead computer panels over the bar, but the three figures blocking the entry looked like security. The one who spoke sounded like security, too: "We're looking for--"
He got out the first syllable of her name as Xocoh whirled, gripping the beer stein like a discus. It caught the station goon high in the chest and he went over backwards with a coughing grunt. She let momentum carry her into the one standing next to him, through an expanding spray of beer and shattered glass.
And then she was off.
There had only been the three, presumably because they'd known she was unarmed and there were no other exits from the bar. The remaining guard had his pistol out, but too late--the first shot went slightly wide, and the second ricocheted past a corner she'd already taken.
That was the_real_ advantage of the antigravity boots--done right you could kick the mass of one up just in time to pivot off it, and then be sprinting on light feet away from whoever took issues with coyotes being coyotes. Her bushy tail wagged, and--darting nimbly through a thickening crowd--she grinned.
Interesting times. Yes, that was the best way to think about it.
In any case, the landing pads were just on the other side of the outpost's shops, and she was home free. Early on in what passed for her career, she'd envisioned herself lifting off as helpless security forces fired uselessly on her escape ship. The long hangar bay, open at one end to outer space with a deflector screen holding the atmosphere in, certainly_suggested_ such an escape.
But it did not happen. Parked starships, particularly light freighters, were highly vulnerable to small-arms fire--powered down, with their shields and integrity generators offline. They were also highly_valuable_, and backed by insurance companies with an army of lawyers more than willing to sue 'helpless security forces' into indentured servitude if a stray caused the merest scratch to an innocent vessel.
Nobody would take the risk, at least not without painful calculation. She slowed, and took a wandering path through the ships, her pace easing until she was no longer clearly_going_ anywhere, no longer excited enough to attract attention.
The ship at bay 6B was a CSY Valross, which despite its name looked more like a bullfrog: squat and, courtesy of its sensor pods, slightly warty. Its big thrusters were optimized for sustained output: they were salvage ships, or mining surveyors, or general-purpose freighters.
But it was hard to tell: CSY sold to anyone, and Cneftuli's ships had a reputation for easy modification into anything from a harbor tug to a torpedo bomber. She did not recognize the particular ship, and there was no obvious name or decoration that would give it away. The cargo ramp was down, though; she glanced around, and hopped lightly up and into the ship's interior.
Something sharp jabbed her side at once, and she heard the whine of a pistol charging. "Hey, what's--oh. You?" The gun went quiet. "So it_is_ you."
Xocoh turned, and flashed the man a grin. "Tolya. My favorite Ukrainian... are you a wolf?"
His coat was softer than that, and his ears did not perk; they hung, folded somewhat awkwardly. She'd worked with him a few times, and was given to understand that--notwithstanding his often dour disposition--his ears lifted about as much around her as they ever did. "Father was a sheepdog, Xocoh Cuicativna."
"My favorite Ukrainian wolf-sheepdog hybrid, then," she corrected.
"Rarified company." Tolya--Anatolyi Ivanovych Sirko--hit the button that closed the ramp behind her. "Do you even know any others?"
"Well, there's Alexei Kostyshyn. I hear he's a good fence. Viktor the Red is always reliable, too. You wouldn't_think_ he's mixed, but look at his eyes next time. And, hmm... oh! Yuliya Nykolaivna, how could I forget about her? She's got those cute piercings on her right ear. Not the only piercings, actually, if--"
"How do you_do_ that? Remember things that way?"
"A lot of drugs," she teased. Truthfully, her recall had always been a gift, although computer augmentation helped. So, although she was grinning, did the drugs--she'd spent enough time inside her own head to have a clear sense of how everything was organized. "Let's say it's close, Tolya, but you're still my favorite. Where am I on your list of coyotes?"
"List? I'm not an assassin." The wolfdog gave a heavy sigh. "You're early, by the way. You ran into trouble, I'm assuming?"
"Someone in the bar had a few objections."
"To you, of all people? I'm not going to be able to get my clearance pushed forward, you know?"
"I know." As if to punctuate the acknowledgment, the ship's computer buzzed. Anatolyi scanned the incoming message, grimaced, and pulled one of the deck plates up to reveal an empty space beneath it. Xocoh dropped into the compartment without having to be asked.
It was small, and she was glad for her flexibility. There was an electric_crack_. Filtered through the life support systems she caught the faint scent of ozone, and heard Tolya's voice. "What is it? Yes? You have certificate for inspection?" A pause. "Oh. You want this as a favor, I see."
His footfalls went aft, and the ramp hissed open again. "Captain Sirko, I presume? We're looking for a fugitive. I hope you understand the... urgency."
"Not really. I'm looking for many things, myself, but minerals... they do not move so much, eh?" He played up his accent, she noticed. "But please, you may have my time. Tell me about him, this fugitive."
"A coyote, Xocoh Zonnie. She assaulted two of our officers and fled the scene. Someone reported her getting on to this ship."
"Ah, of course. Let me guess: just enough inspection time, I miss my launch window in one hour. This good citizen who make report to you, then_he_ launches--"
"No. It was a... it wasn't another captain."
"--And what is this? Oh, suddenly he is at claim before me. How surprising this is. Always this way in Shakhari system, they pay you_sukas_ off to come bother me and--"
"Sir! Calm down, sir. I swear, it's not about you."
"Of_course_ it's about me! I bid for this launch window because it is having specific orbital parameters, anyone can see this. Even you can see this. But here you tell me: no, Anatolyi Ivanovych, is just concern for escaped prisoner. Escaped prisoner you smuggle on mining ship with one bunk and one teacup for samovar. Maybe he drink from your teacup, too, you get comfortable together. Is that right?"
She could only imagine how irked the big mutt would_look_; it was apparently enough for the guards to buy the act. "Again: calm down, please. We just have it on good authority that... I mean. We can search your ship quickly and be gone. I'm sure you'll make your launch window."
"So you say."
"It's a small ship, boss. Looks clean." That was a new voice, feminine; the goons at the bar had all been men, so far as she'd been able to tell.They're asking the harbormaster for help? Maybe they didn't want to give anything away.
"Trace evidence?"
"The only genetic material showing up on the scanners is from Captain Sirko."
"Well..."
"Just what I thought," Anatolyi snorted. "Of course, not good enough. Maybe your fugitive has no DNA, not show up on scanners. And now, I open up all my compartments, eh? Here, I start." Xocoh heard the heavy thud of metal on metal as he, presumably, began doing just that. His muttered curses switched from one side of the corridor to the other; the screech of a plate being pried open drowned out some commentary from the security guards. "You happy? Eh?"
Claws scrabbled directly above her, and the floor lifted partway. She saw a pair of polished boots. "It's--sir.Stop. It's fine. We're sorry for bothering you. It must've just been a misunderstanding. Alright?"
The boots disappeared as Sirko dropped the panel back into place. Their conversation receded, and presently the cargo ramp closed once more. Another minute went by, and then she was looking up at the dog's face through the again-removed deck plate. She took the paw he offered, pulling herself back to her feet. "Bit of a gamble, huh?"
"Nah." His voice was back to normal; he was calm again. "Hologram in that compartment, anyway. It'll hold up to brief visual inspection. Harbor cops, anyway. Not New Family mercs."
"Hmm. They did say 'our officers,' though. The whole station can't be Family, can it? I thought it was pretty safe territory until I got a message from Satari."
"It can't be entirely controlled, no. I assume Bellen Obas just has a few men paid off. The rumor mill said an Obas Family ship sixteen hours ago. A mutual friend suggested I follow up."
Satari, she knew, would be the mutual friend. "I appreciate it. Where are we going?"
"Well... that depends. My flight plan takes us to the asteroid belt. After that... I have some questions. If you want to, you could be around for... a while."
"You're not outfitted for anything, though. Are you?"
"Once we're safely off Parchi, Zochka."
"Do you really only have the one bunk?"
"Once we're safely off Parchi," he repeated, stressing each word.
She followed him forward to the flight deck, where he took his seat and she watched him begin his startup sequence. "The suspense is killing me, just so you know."
"But I kept anyone else from doing suspense's work, no?"
She grunted.
He reached behind her, patting the coyote blindly, and put his radio set on, clipping it to the link on his temple. That was a black market job; Anatolyi was a hacker, too. A good partner--the suspense_was_ difficult to bear, but she found herself at least slightly intrigued. And they were leaving soon, apparently. "Parchi Flight Ops, Temitta Mining 7-1-7 at pad 6B. I request departure clearance."
"Uh. Say again, 6B?"
He was putting on an accent again, but he tried enunciating better. "Temitta Mining. 7-1-7. Am at pad 6B. I wish to depart now."
"Copy. Stand by while we review your departure plan."
Xocoh tapped Tolya's right shoulder, and pointed out the window. A few armed guards had made their way into the landing area. "I recognize the guy in the middle. I, uh, hit him with a glass of Ressik."
"Great. Good you have other friends, too, not just me. I'm sure they mean well," the pilot said, although his paw tightened on the ship's thruster controls.
"Temitta 7-1-7, you're cleared to depart. Good day."
"Cleared to depart. Thank you." With a powerful thrum, the ship pulled itself from its landing pad and into a hover. "You should be harnessed, Xocoh."
"Yeah." The coyote was distracted, though. "Those are pretty big guns my 'friends' are pointing at us."
"They're bluffing." He started to accelerate, which of necessity brought them_nearer_ to the cluster of guards. Not the direction she really wanted to be heading. "Nobody shoots inside a station like this."
"Right. Definitely not at starships..."
"Definitely not."
"Duck," she suggested, and from her own sudden position on the floor she heard the staccato_thunk_ of rounds striking the ship.
"Blyat!" Tolya's ship lurched, and Xocoh managed to catch herself before she was flung into anything sensitive. From the corner of her eye she saw him reach overhead, toggling something that brought with it an immediate alarm and then an electric sizzle. "What are you fucking--poshli na--"
"Get out of here!"
"Eb tvoyu mat! How I get out?" She could no longer see anything out the cockpit window. Tolya growled and inertia kicked the coyote backwards as he picked the safest direction and shot them out into deep space. Once they were clear of the landing bay, the stars returned almost at once. "Bastards. Fucking... fuck. You alive?"
Xocoh pulled herself into the copilot's seat and secured her harness. "Yes. Alive. What was that? The alarms and stuff?"
He pushed a few buttons without looking, and the last of the alarms went silent. "Not supposed to activate deflector in atmosphere. Particles start reacting with the shields. Can't see shit." He sighed. "I didn't mean that, about your mother."
"I figured. Any damage to your ship?"
"No. They surprised me. Otherwise I would've just let them shoot. We're pretty heavily armored. Idiots. What did you do to piss them off, anyway?"
"Be a coyote--what do you think? You've worked with me before."
"True. Very true, Zochka."
"If you're gonna call me pet names, I want to know what was so sensitive you couldn't tell me when we were still landed."
"Right! Yes, yes. First..." Anatolyi set the ship's autopilot and pushed himself back from the controls. "They just decided you were too much coyote for them? Nothing about the Crypt of Tarol? That's not what you found planetside?"
She grinned her best, affably tricksterish grin. "You hear that from them?"
"From my own investigation. Caught telltales of a very, very brief Norokari cascade.Somebody was snooping around another docked ship last night. The... Silver Magpie, I think it was. Interesting information they downloaded. You know? And Satari confirmed the name. He said you are... retained, for him. Yes?"
"Kinda. You're not, right? You've always just been freelancing, whenever we've worked together." She had yet to answer his question, although Xocoh doubted Tolya would want to give up easily.
"Yes. I was already docked when Mr. Kai asked who was close enough to take a look."
"Did he pay you?"
"He told me you'd do that."
She flashed another toothy grin. "Did you believe him?"
"I insisted on a deposit." Then the big dog chuckled, though. "No, he didn't say it. I volunteered to help an old--don't you tell me 'coyotes don't have friends, we have accomplices.' I know you better than that,old friend. What is this crypt, though? Something good?"
"Not for you."
"How do you figure?"
For centuries, the temple complex at Tarol received the dead kings of Garmuda and its vassal planets--which, exactly, had been the_original_ Garmudic homeworld remained a matter of some debate, although in Xoc's mind Shakhari III was now the only contender. After some kind of incident, Tarol was sealed off. And then, gradually, it fell from view.
Like the Lost City of Sjel-Kassar, the Crypt of Tarol had trod a line between something archaeologists seriously believed in and something they generally considered a myth. Like Sjel-Kassar, it was said to contain treasures of incredible value. Like Sjel-Kassar, its actual location had only been narrowed down to within a few parsecs.
But Sjel-Kassar had been the capital of a galactic empire, the most powerful in history up to that point. The Crypt of Tarol, on the other hand, belonged to a culture that rarely interred truly valuable artifacts with their dead instead of mere silver and gems. Xocoh was convinced that there wouldn't be much worth stealing, and few buyers for what they were likely to find.
"And it's cursed, I'm sure, right?" Anatolyi asked.
"Horribly, by hundreds of kings and warlords... plus a few demigods. The only way we can guess that a few modern explorers_have_ found it is they're the ones who didn't come back. Because something happened." She leaned towards him, arching her eyebrows for dramatic effect.
"If it's going to be empty, why do_you_ care?"
"Empty of_artifacts_. But the crypts would have... the gods alone know how many histories recorded alongside the burials. It would blow the history of Garmuda wide open. I want to get to it before anybody loots the lintel-stones for a couple hundred credits on the black market."
The dog leaned back in the pilot's seat. "Mmm. This is about that friend of yours, isn't it? Michael? Miguel. Dr. Miguel Ribeiro, over at... Leporia?"
"Sepin-Sirte. Close. I think he would care about the science, yes. Satari will be happy with the prestige from finding it. He doesn't need any treasure."
"Do you really know where it is?"
"I do now. Almost positive." Anatolyi was deep in thought, she saw.Disconcertingly deep in thought, if she was honest. He wouldn't betray her--who would he even betray her to?--but maybe he had other ideas. At last, she broke the silence: "why?"
"Could you wait?"
"What would I be waiting for?"
"How good do you think you'd be breaking into something in zero-g?"
They'd been trading question for question, but now Xocoh's ears perked. "Good enough that I could wait."
"How good is that?"
"Start talking."