Alien Exodus by Mary Margaret Branning

  On Faire, he watched several shows at one of the ubiquitous kiosks, and then he found the castle, which was well guarded. Ingress on the lower three levels was bricked over, except for one. Supplies went in that one; nothing ever came out.

  One morning very early, while the sky was still dark, Pakchikt slipped past the patrolling guards by scrambling through the treetops to the castle, and then climbed up the taller castle walls. One hundred sharp, pointed legs were good for this kind of work. He crawled around the upper floor windows until he found one opened, and he slipped in.

  He smelled the thing on the stones and in the air. He tasted its chemical trail. He followed the many trails as they grew fresher and denser, and he entered a room and found the creature in a plush chair, drinking some dark liquid. Pakchikt made himself obvious. It stared.

  “What the fuck are you?” it snarled. The translation entered the organ which could be considered Pakchikt’s brain.

  “I am Pakchikt.”

  “You’re breaking about a million laws, some punishable by life in prison.”

  “No one knows.”

  “So if I killed you and ate you, no one would know?”

  “That is correct. Would you like to try?”

  It didn’t hesitate long.

  “Sit, or whatever. Do you drink?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Deena got up, somewhat stiffly but still gracefully, walked to the cupboard, and poured a glass of real Irish whiskey. She put the tumbler on the table near him, and sat again in her chair.

  “I assume you want something,” Deena challenged as she watched the gigantic centipede use a pincer like a straw.

  The beast sucked, and then put its head up.

  “Of course.” Pakchikt reached into his purse and pulled out something. “I’m looking for this.” He bent his upper body forward and put two images on the table in front of Deena, returning to its drink.

  Deena picked them up and gave them both a good long stare.

  “A sister, perhaps?” He questioned her.

  The woman looked exactly like her; different scars, different hair style and clothing, same everything else. The woman was in a place she’d never been. Deena tossed the pictures back on the table.

  “It would seem so,” she said. “What do you want her for?”

  Pakchikt made a calculation. This thing was cagey, a prisoner, a criminal, and the same species as the thing he sought. That thing apparently was not a convicted criminal, and this thing would probably do anything to get out of here.

  “I’ve been hired to kill it,” he risked.

  A slow smile crept over Deena’s face. “Is that what you do? Kill people?”

  “I do.”

  “I did, too.”

  Now they met on common ground.

  “So, are you familiar with her?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Can you get me out of here?”

  “Can you hang onto me while I climb down?”

  “Can I tie ropes around you, to help me hang on?”

  “Of course.”

  “You look like you could kill her, but she’s tough.”

  “Tough as you?”

  “Tougher. I’m soft now, she’s not. She’s dangerous.”

  “So am I, and this is what I do.”

  Deena had calculated, too. She didn’t recognize the one in the pictures, but this provided an opportunity for her to get revenge on that bitch, Ghee, whom she was sure had had a hand in her capture.[2] After all, wasn’t Ghee the one benefiting from her imprisonment now? Deena had observed changes on her planet, and occasionally talked some information out of the guards. There were investors in Faire, people from the planet KekTan. That woman must be one of them.

  “She’s different now. Her face is deranged. A bad accident.”

  “That’s excellent intelligence. I hadn’t realized.”

  “I know what planet she’s on, but I’ll be spotted in an instant. So will you, and, as an unknown species, you’ll be viewed as suspicious. Their security is impeccable.”

  “We will have to get her to go somewhere else. We’ll arrange for her to travel if we have to.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Oh, yes, after some study. I told you, this is what I do.”

  Deena sat and thought. She’d had a lot of time to think, of late. Her admirals had turned against her after she’d let them visit KekTan with her. Those Mek, and that Ghee person, who had looked like her except for the ruined face, must have turned them against her, must have offered the admirals support. Her guards had told her the Fairans traded with the Mek and humans now. She’d been overthrown for her planet’s agricultural products.

  Ghee hadn’t liked her, Deena could tell. Ghee didn’t think as Deena thought, hadn’t liked the things Deena’d said, or even the way she said them. Ghee was like so many others whom Deena had crushed for insulting her, for acting as if Deena was wrong and they were right. Now, after all, Deena would show Ghee who was wrong, like she had all those others.

  The creature before her was searching for this woman who appeared almost an exactly replica of herself; the same as Ghee-Nye must have once looked. The assassin would never know that the woman in the picture was not the person Deena would lead him to.

  Chapter Nine

  Buster Makes Bank