This short story takes place before Bloodhunters v1: Bad Blood. If you enjoy it, please consider purchasing my other books here.
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The planet Cytrine Delta looked more advanced than it actually was. Once considered the technological center of the galaxy, now most of its citizens struggled to survive. State-of-the-art buildings, originally constructed to show off the latest breakthroughs, now served as homeless shelters and illegal drug dens. But despite the failed economy, the planet still had a thriving scientific community, mostly because the scientists couldn’t afford to move anywhere else.
The SportsDome’s flickering neon signage was the only thing illuminating Quantum Street, as the local gangs had stripped the solar cells off of the streetlights. The darkness and the frigid rain might have deterred a few customers on most worlds, but here, the line to the ticket booth stretched all the way down the block.
In a futile effort to boost the economy, the Cytrine government lobbied to hold major sports events at their stadiums. This drew in wealthy sports fans from all over the galaxy, whose off-world credits would trickle down to the local population. At least theoretically. So far it hadn’t made a difference to the average citizen’s wallet, but it did boost their morale. Locals were allowed to attend sporting events for free, to fill out the crowds for the cameras.
Across the street, in a run-down hotel, Detanna Taush got dressed. A successful bounty hunter like her could have afforded a nicer place to stay, but she wasn’t in town to relax. She’d chosen her lodgings based on location, and the room’s poor quality barely registered with her. Even when she saw a glyph-roach scurry across her mirror, she just ignored it and continued applying her makeup.
On most jobs, Detanna would have been more decked out, with weapons and body armor and dozens of hidden gadgets. But tonight she didn’t want to be recognized as a bounty hunter, and she was dressed to blend in with the crowd. Besides, she couldn’t have smuggled any weapons past the stadium’s security.
She gave herself a final check in the mirror. She wore a black shirt, pants, and boots. Her purple vest matched her hair and lipstick, a bright contrast to her dark brown complexion. She thought she looked pretty good. Maybe a bit more well-off than the average Cytrine citizen, but not so much that she’d look out of place. The locals were mostly human like Detanna, and while they were poor, they still often wore bright colors. She’d fit right in. But… did she pass?
Detanna scrutinized her reflection, judging it as objectively as possible. Yes, she was here on business, and nothing mattered but her target. But it was still important to her to be recognized as a woman. It wasn’t about vanity, it was about identity. Besides, she didn’t want to run into any violent transphobes. She was confident in her fighting skills, and knew she’d win any potential altercation, but getting into a fight at the stadium would endanger the mission.
Looking good, she thought. Yes, the reflection was tall and muscular, but beyond that, she saw a woman looking back at her. She wasn’t going to win any beauty contests, but no one was going to question her gender. Satisfied that she could complete her mission without being clocked, she locked up the hotel room and crossed the street.
The view wasn’t bad, and if Detanna had actually cared about the sport, she would have been pleased with how well she could see the action. Currently in the ring, a six-armed wrestler called “The Ahraknoid” grappled with a beefy, yellow-scaled Vhelran. Most of the crowd was captivated by the exciting match, but Detanna’s eyes were elsewhere. She knew her target would have the most expensive seats available, so she scanned the front row. She recognized several celebrities, but not the person she’d come here to find. Still, a few of the seats were empty, so maybe they were being fashionably late.
In the middle of the second match, she spotted her target. Arvanna Nethridge had just arrived, flanked by a pair of bodyguards. Nethridge was the founder and CEO of Aonic Industries, a company that mostly manufactured weapons and surgical equipment. But Detanna didn’t care about her. The actual target was Lyon Kreet, one of the Nethridge’s bodyguards.
Kreet was a Sethran, which was an offshoot of the human race. He looked human, but with pale skin and short, white hair. With his physique, he wouldn’t have looked out of place in the wrestling ring itself. Nethridge looked like a child next to him. No wonder Kreet made such a good bodyguard. For Nethridge, it had to be like having her own personal brick wall following her around.
In addition to being a bodyguard, Kreet was also a criminal. Or at least, Detanna believed so. There had been eight robberies in the past two months, across three different planets. There was video footage of the perpetrator, but he was always masked. The IGP, bless them, had done their best at sifting through data and had come up empty. But Detanna had software of her own, programmed to look for patterns the InterGalactic Police wouldn’t consider. And she’d discovered that each robbery had occurred while Nethridge was in town.
Nethridge had a sporadic schedule, hopping from planet to planet to visit her company’s factories. It was too much of a coincidence for the robberies to have matched her itinerary so closely. The suspect in the video obviously wasn’t Nethridge, but their musculature was certainly a potential match for Kreet.
The IGP had posted a reward of twelve hundred credits for the capture of the man in the video. Alternatively, they were offering two hundred credits for information that led to his arrest. The IGP had a sample of the thief’s blood, but it didn’t match any blood in their database. All it would take was one call, and Detanna could turn over her evidence and collect an easy two hundred credits. But that wasn’t her way. It was all or nothing for her.
Detanna watched her prey from the cheap seats, waiting patiently for an opportunity. She couldn’t just tackle him out in the open; she’d find herself fighting off all of the SportsDome’s security, and probably wind up in jail. Besides, she didn’t want to look like an idiot. She wanted to prove to herself that Kreet was guilty before she turned him in.
She’d already hacked the IGP database and downloaded their blood analysis. Tonight she would get a sample of Kreet’s blood, take it back to her hotel, and analyze it. If her suspicions were correct, she would capture Kreet tomorrow. Nethridge was scheduled to deliver a speech at the Science Center while she was in town, so they wouldn’t be leaving until tomorrow evening. It was a tight schedule, but Detanna was sure she could pull it off.
As she watched Kreet, she wondered why he would turn to a life of crime. Surely he was well paid. Maybe he just didn’t want such a risky job anymore, and was trying to make enough credits to retire early. Detanna could relate. She enjoyed bounty hunting, but it had become a grind. She was saving up for multiple surgeries, and hadn’t been taking any time for herself. She no longer even knew what she’d do with an actual day off.
Early in the fourth match, one of the bodyguards – not Kreet – got up and left. Ten minutes later he returned with some popcorn and a beer for Nethridge. During the seventh match, Nethridge herself stood up and left, and both bodyguards went with her. Detanna stood and headed for the lobby.
In the circular outer hall that surrounded the arena, Detanna spotted the two bodyguards standing outside the women’s restroom, one on each side of the door. Detanna casually strolled towards the doorway, as if she were just another attendee who’d had one too many sodas. Before she could enter, the two bodyguards stepped sideways, blocking the restroom entrance. “Occupied,” Kreet said.
“There’s like, ten stalls,” Detanna protested, trying to sound like it was really urgent.
“You’ll have to wait,” the second bodyguard said.
“Is there like, a celebrity in there?” Detanna asked, pretending to take a peek past the bodyguards.
“None of your business,” Kreet said. “Step away from the door.”
Detanna tried to push her way past Kreet and he grabbed her. She fought back, scratching him with her fingernails and drawing blood. Just then, three SportsDome security officers ran up and asked if there was a problem. Detanna apologized, and the security officers escorted her out of the building. Then she rushed back to her hotel room to examine the blood sample under her fingernail.
It was a match. Kreet was definitely guilty, even if his motives didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Some of the objects that had been stolen had a niche market, the kind for which it would be difficult to find a buyer. Detanna wondered what Kreet’s plan was.
Now that she could prove Kreet was the culprit, the ethical thing to do would be to pass the information along to the IGP. Detanna laughed at the very thought of it. Not only would it mean giving up a larger reward, but the police would probably screw it up, and Kreet would go into hiding. No, Detanna would be the one to bring him in, no question.
She considered going back out tonight. After the match, Nethridge would return to Georgina Suites, the only luxury hotel in this armpit of a city. Her bodyguards would stay in her suite, sleeping in shifts. Detanna considered stealing a hotel employee uniform, or taking a shuttle and parachuting onto the penthouse balcony, or even scaling the outside of the building.
But this was a job that called for patience. It wouldn’t do to get herself arrested by acting too quickly. Security would be more relaxed at the Science Center tomorrow. She set out her clothing and equipment for the morning, in a meticulously organized pattern. Then she spent an hour exercising, while watching the news on the room’s old-fashioned, non-holographic video screen.
The following morning, Detanna dressed more conventionally than she had the night before. She wore dark slacks with a professional-looking gray blouse, and darker makeup that complemented, rather than contrasted her skin tone. She wore a shoulder-length black wig over her short, purple hair. She wondered if Kreet would still recognize her. With Detanna’s height and physique, she wouldn’t be surprised. She briefly considered dressing as a man, but at this point, that would have been more work than she had time for.
She still couldn’t wear her bounty hunter gear, at least not without attracting attention, but she was much more equipped than she had been the night before. While the SportsDome had prohibited all sorts of tech, the Science Center would only be checking for weapons. Detanna packed several high-tech gadgets, most of them disguised as other devices. Her comm unit was also a stungun, her wristwatch could fire miniature tracking devices, and even her boots had sound dampeners in case she needed to sneak around.
Convinced that she was ready for any situation that might arise, she locked up and headed for the Science Center.
It had once been a beautiful building, state-of-the-art in every way, with a retro-futuristic architectural style. But now it was covered in graffiti, its broken windows covered up with welded panels of sheet metal. Nine-year-old posters still advertised the 2490 Galaxy Expo, though the signs were now faded, torn, and defaced. A giant phallus was spray painted directly above the front door, and some rude words appeared on the doors themselves. There had been a few attempts to repaint and repair the building over the years, but the local youths always ruined it again within days, and the scientists didn’t have the budget for round-the-clock security.
Inside, however, was a different story. The hallways were clean and brightly lit, and the many labs and showrooms were packed with cutting-edge technological breakthroughs.
Even though she’d already checked it online, Detanna looked over the lecture schedule to make sure there weren’t any changes. She was a couple of hours early, but she wanted to get a feel for the place in case she had to chase Kreet through the building.
She walked through the hallways, nodding at passing visitors and scientists, reading the posters next to each doorway. Each room had its own display, showing off the latest inventions. Detanna wasn’t a scientist, but she was into tech, and she didn’t see anything she found particularly impressive. Most of it was just new applications of existing technology. A faster hovercar. A more precise AON scalpel. More durable types of cloth. More powerful Levatech emitters. Skirts with pockets. Binoculars that could see fine details on other planets.
Then she turned a corner and saw a poster that gave her pause. What? she thought. She read the poster three times before entering the lab. There was a huge metal cylinder against one wall, connected to several pieces of monitoring equipment. Three scientists – one man and two women, all human – stood in front of the machine. They wore white lab coats and were engaged in an animated conversation. One woman turned when she saw Detanna walk in.
“Hello,” she said, with a big smile. “I’m Doctor Vartan. Would you like to take a look at our invention?” The scientist handed Detanna a flyer from a stack on a nearby desk.
“So, how does it work?” Detanna asked, almost unable to speak. She stared at the machine in awe.
“The True-U 3000 is the latest breakthrough in gender affirmation technology,” Doctor Vartan said. “It actually rewrites the patient’s DNA, changing their chromosomes from XX to XY or vice versa, altering every cell in their body. It’s almost like cloning a brand-new body over their skeleton. No more hormones. No additional surgeries. After a few weeks in this tank, the patient won’t even think of themselves as trans anymore. They’ll emerge as their authentic self, and never look back.”
“It changes… everything?” Detanna asked.
“Every cell,” the scientist replied. “Face, genitals, you name it. Plus the patient can tweak it for their personal tastes. No more unwanted body hair. It can remove their Adam’s apple, or give them one. The patient’s vocal cords are calibrated to give them their desired voice. The machine can’t change their height, and they won’t be able to bear or sire children, but believe me, the True-U is going to be a miracle for those who wish to transition.”
“Does… does it really work?” Detanna asked, her eyes transfixed on the tank.
“It worked on me,” the woman answered, winking.
Detanna looked at Doctor Vartan, really seeing her for the first time. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, with short, brown hair. While she was a bit taller than the average woman, there was no way anyone would have mistaken her for a man. Her face, her voice, her entire body was perfect. Not a shred of masculinity remained. To be fair, Detanna had met other trans women who were just as beautiful, but they’d walked a hard road to get there, and some of them still weren’t satisfied with the results.
What this machine promised was difficult to believe. Detanna leaned against the desk, feeling slightly dizzy. “How… how much does it cost?”
“Well, there’s only one machine in existence so far,” the scientist said, “so it’s really not for sale yet…”
“The procedure, I mean,” Detanna clarified. She’d already been saving up for several surgeries, but this device may as well have been sent from heaven. All her current transition plans vanished from her mind. She had a new goal now. It was this machine or nothing.
“Currently?” The woman tapped a few keys on her comm unit, paused, and tapped a few more. “We estimate the procedure would cost… just over six million credits.”
Detanna felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. “Six… million?” she asked, hoping she’d heard wrong.
“For now,” the woman confirmed. “Once we refine the process, we can probably get it down to half that. And eventually, who knows?”
Detanna took a few deep breaths, started to say something, then stopped. Her mind was reeling. Everything she’d ever dreamed of stood just a few meters away, and it might as well have been in a different galaxy.
“Are you okay?” the scientist asked, looking concerned.
Do you know a lot of transgender multi-millionaires? Detanna wanted to ask. Instead, she just said, “Thank you for your time,” and stumbled back out of the lab. She leaned against the wall in the hallway. Six million. She’d saved up nearly two hundred thousand credits so far, and that had taken her entire bounty hunting career. She already lived as cheaply as she could, only splurging on tech that would help her catch fugitives. She took the highest-paying jobs, regardless of how dangerous they might be, and never spent money on entertainment or frivolities.
She looked at the flyer one last time, then folded it neatly and tucked it into her pocket. Then she took a deep breath and cleared her head. She had a job to do, and there wasn’t any time for distractions.
Scientists, college students, and investors were starting to gather outside the auditorium. As they filed into the room, Detanna saw Nethridge and her two bodyguards come around the corner. Detanna turned her back to them as they approached, pretending to study a poster on the wall. Kreet didn’t even glance in her direction. As they walked past, Detanna turned and pressed her thumb to her wristwatch. Then she walked down the hallway in the opposite direction.
After turning right at the next hallway intersection, Detanna stood against the wall and loaded up an app on her comm unit. She wasn’t alone; several other visitors wandered the hall, killing time while waiting for various lectures to start. But while the others used their comms to play games or chat with friends, Detanna’s attention was focused on a map of the building, with a red dot indicating Kreet’s location.
She’d been right, the security wasn’t nearly as pervasive here. There was an officer at the main entrance, checking for weapons, and at least one other security guard wandering the halls, but there just wasn’t much call for police presence at a science convention. Detanna couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard of a crowd of drunk science fans getting rowdy and trashing a venue. Nethridge would be more relaxed as well, and wouldn’t require both bodyguards to stand by her side at all times.
The lecture was scheduled to start in ten minutes. The speech would take about thirty minutes, after which there would be another half hour of Q&A, and then Nethridge would tour the building to critique some of the projects. It was actually kind of funny; Nethridge was no scientist, just a trillionaire CEO who often invested in emerging tech. And yet, every scientist in the building would be swooning at her praise. Detanna felt it should be the other way around, with Nethridge bowing to the scientists’ expertise. But if there was one force more powerful than science, it was money.
Detanna hoped Kreet would take the opportunity for a restroom break before the speech began, so she could catch him alone. She doubted she’d get that lucky, but anything was possible. She studied the red dot on her screen, watching it move back and forth in the auditorium, most likely helping set up equipment for the lecture. Then, about five minutes before the lecture was to start, the dot left the auditorium and began walking down the hallway.
Was this her chance? Detanna stood up straighter and started moving towards the intersection. But no, the red dot walked right past the restrooms, and continued moving in Detanna’s direction. When Kreet reached the four-way junction, he looked left and right, until finally his eyes settled on Detanna. He stomped toward her, holding up the tracking device.
“Did you really think I didn’t recognize you from the stadium?” he growled. He struck an intimidating pose, clenching his fists in anger. He was a full head taller than Detanna, and probably twice her body weight.
Detanna was unfazed. “Lyon Kreet, I’m here to collect the bounty on your head. Please come with me.”
“You’ve got nothing on me,” Kreet said, throwing the tracking disc to the floor and stomping on it. “Now get out of here before I tear you apart.” Up and down the hall, visitors stopped looking at their comms and watched the drama unfold. Some of them started filming.
“Your blood was found at multiple crime scenes,” Detanna lied. Technically they’d only recovered a blood sample from one location, but Kreet didn’t know that. The crowd of onlookers grew, but stood at a respectful distance from the pair.
“Bull,” Kreet said, but a flash of worry crossed his face. His eyes darted across the crowd of visitors, not liking how many of them had their comm cameras up.
“Don’t make me use force,” Detanna said. “It’ll be so much easier to take you in if you can still walk, but I’ll drag you if I have to.”
Kreet laughed at her confidence. “Try it,” he said. “I’ll break you in half.”
Up and down the hallway, people started chanting “Fight! Fight!” A couple of the onlookers left to find a security guard.
Detanna knew a fight was inevitable, but she didn’t want to throw the first punch. “You’ll do no such thing,” she said. “Try it, and I’ll pound you into the ground, like the pathetic little worm you are.”
Kreet knew she was trying to goad him into a fight, but his anger overrode his common sense. Detanna easily sidestepped his fist, dropping to one knee and countering with a punch to his stomach. It was like hitting a wall, but Kreet still flinched at the impact. He tried to grab her, but she ducked between his legs, then kicked him in the back of the knee. By the time Kreet turned around to face her, it was just in time to get punched in the nose by the base of Detanna’s hand.
Detanna had him on speed, but Kreet knew it would only take one solid hit to take her down. He pulled his arm back, then paused. A security guard was coming around the corner, led by one of the visitors. Instead of following through with the punch, Kreet turned and bolted. He pushed his way through the crowd, tossing people aside like ragdolls as he ran. He burst through an emergency exit, setting off an alarm that rang throughout the building.
Once Kreet was outside, he kept going, looking for a place to hide so he could come up with a plan. He crossed the street, ran through an alley, crossed another street, entered a parking garage, and hid between two parked hovercars. He took a couple of slow breaths, regaining his composure. He just needed to think things through.
The police had his blood. Could he come up with a rational explanation? Probably not. He’d been ordered to commit those robberies. Nethridge often had him steal new technologies so her company could reverse-engineer them. Would his boss stand up for him in court? Of course not. In fact, she’d probably plant evidence of her own, just to keep her reputation clean. For that matter, Nethridge might have been the one who planted the blood at the crime scenes. Kreet didn’t specifically remember cutting himself during any of the robberies.
But if he was being used, he’d need to keep it to himself. He wasn’t about to mess with Nethridge. Any attempt to link his boss to the crime, and he’d meet with some sort of “accident.” If he were caught, he intended to plead guilty.
If he were caught. It wasn’t too late to run. Could he evade the IGP long enough to get off this planet? Or that bounty hunter? He wondered if she was still on his trail. He risked taking a look at the street. Peeking underneath the bumper of one car, he could see all the way to the alley he’d come through. He saw no sign of his pursuer. He did, however, see intermittent spatters of blood, leading from the alley to his location.
Kreet’s hand went to his nose, and came away bloody. It hadn’t hurt before, but now that he saw the blood, his nose started to throb. He knew he couldn’t stay here, not with the blood trail giving his location away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, and held it to his nose. Then he stuck his head out from between the cars, looked left and right, and stood up.
ZZZ-ZAP! Detanna’s comm/stungun caught him in the back of the head, sending wave after wave of electricity through his body. Kreet hit the ground, unconscious. Detanna hopped down from the roof of one of the hovercars, and looked him over. She still wasn’t sure how she was going to get his massive form back to her ship, but at least he wouldn’t resist.
Leaving a fugitive alone wasn’t the best idea, but there was no other way. Besides, she’d left him unconscious and cuffed to a metal pole, with a tracking device clipped to his clothing. She returned less than ten minutes later, driving her rented hovercar.
She knew there was a problem before she even entered the parking garage. A man in a blue uniform stood in front of Kreet, attempting to unlock Detanna’s bracers. For just a second, Detanna thought, Cop. But the uniform looked wrong; it fit too snug and held more weapons than IGP officers usually carried.
Detanna pulled into a space and got out of her vehicle. The interloper turned around, drawing his energy pistol. He wore modified police armor, but all the IGP logos had been painted over. He was a Canik, with Doberman-like facial features, pointed ears, and black fur. Detanna stayed informed about rival hunters, and she recognized him as an up-and-comer who called himself Darkhound.
He growled as he looked Detanna up and down. “Back off, he’s mine,” the dog-man said, holding his pistol on her.
“Carrion hunter,” Detanna said. It was a serious accusation. Carrion hunters were lowlifes who followed more successful bounty hunters around, stealing their prey out from under their noses. It was considered bad etiquette among bounty hunters, and if proven, such conduct could even get one barred from the Bounty Hunter Registry. “How long have you been following me?” she asked.
“I don’t even know who you are,” Darkhound said. “I smelled his blood from a kilometer away. Matches the sample the cops have. Now beat it.”
Of course. Detanna remembered reading that Darkhound had once been an IGP officer. The first Canik to join the IGP. But he’d been put on permanent leave for brutality. Apparently he still had access to IGP resources.
Detanna still didn’t have any weapons on her, and her comm was currently charging on the front seat of the hovercar. She considered arguing with Darkhound, but she knew she wouldn’t get anywhere. And if she reported him to the BHR, it would just be her word against his. But she wasn’t about to let him steal her captive, either. She’d put too much time into this hunt to leave empty-handed.
“Fine,” Detanna said, and turned to get back into her hovercar. As she did so, she pressed a button on her wristwatch. The tracking device on Kreet began to emit a high-pitched whine.
Darkhound’s hands went to his ears, and he turned towards Kreet, looking for the source of the sound. Detanna tackled Darkhound from behind, knocking him to the ground and sending his pistol flying. The two wrestled on the ground, rolling over each other, each trying to gain the upper hand. The Canik was stronger, but Detanna was more agile, and she managed to twist her way out of several attempted holds. Finally Darkhound rolled on top of her, nearly crushing her with his weight.
But she still had one free hand. Detanna reached up, her hand moving up and down his side, until she found a weapon dangling from Darkhound’s belt. Not caring what it was, she pulled it off of his belt and used it on him. The stun baton sent a powerful jolt of electricity through him, dazing him long enough for Detanna to wriggle herself free.
Darkhound started to stand up, but Detanna was already on her feet. She kicked him in the face, causing him to topple backward, and he landed on the cold concrete with a thud. Then she stood over him, holding the stun baton to his face. “I give, I give,” Darkhound finally said, holding up his hands in resignation. But as Detanna started to step away, he lurched forward and bit her on the leg.
Detanna whacked him with the baton. He released his grip, and she shocked him repeatedly until he was unconscious. “Bad dog,” she said, unsure if that was a racial slur in Canik culture. Leaving Darkhound on the floor of the parking garage, Detanna dragged Kreet into the backseat of the hovercar and drove away.
Detanna Taush turned in her captive and her evidence. Twelve hundred credits were transferred to her bank account. She left Cytrine Delta, took her shuttle through the nearest warp gate, and returned home. While eating her bland but nutritious dinner, she did some math. After expenses and taxes, she’d made a net profit of just over eight hundred credits. She averaged about three bounties a week, some paying more than others. At this rate, it would take her nearly fifty years to earn six million credits.
To be fair, by then the price of the procedure might be lower. Perhaps it would only take twenty-five years. She didn’t find that particularly comforting. Not for the first time, she wondered if she’d chosen the right career. Before becoming a bounty hunter, she’d mostly lived a life of crime, so she didn’t have much to put on her resume. With her computer skills, she knew she could earn a programming degree pretty quickly, but the thought of spending the next couple of decades behind a desk was almost as bad as the thought of living as a man. And she doubted it would pay more.
She needed a big score. She didn’t want to go back to crime, but she couldn’t imagine earning enough as a bounty hunter to reach her goal.
Detanna sat on her bed and slowly exhaled, looking at the flyer from the Science Center. She wasn’t given to flights of fancy, and that procedure on Cytrine Delta was just a pipe dream. It was time to be realistic. She folded the paper, and was about to tear it in half, but then she stopped herself. Instead, she stood up and attached the flyer to the wall, just above her computer screen. It didn’t hurt to have a goal, even an unrealistic one.
Six million. She had a target number, and she’d take a day off when she reached it. Until then, a day idle was a day wasted.
She sat down at her computer and browsed the latest bounty listings.
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