Judging by the position of the nearest dying star, it was around noon when I eased myself onto a stool, ordered a cheap beer, and smiled like there wasn’t a handful of throwing knives strapped to my thigh.
The concealed blades felt about as comfortable as razor-sharp metal tucked near your groin always does. But I wasn’t about to hit this outer rim cantina without a weapon, and I wasn’t alone in that; so far I’d counted no less than a dozen conspicuous lumps under peoples’ coats. Some weren’t even bothering to hide it. The woman next to me, for instance, was openly wearing a machete… which paired well with the jagged scar across her face.
She caught me staring, and said, “You’re late.”
“Excuse me?” My words became clouds in the cold air. (This bar didn’t exactly have central heating; it was as freezing in here as it was everywhere else on this planet.)
The woman rolled her eyes impatiently. “Long live the Magistratum, and the warmth of its many suns.”
It was the code I’d been told to listen for. I responded with the agreed-upon countersign: “And down with the Invisible Blade and the rest of the cold-hearted resistance.”
An easy smile stretched the woman’s scar. She leaned a little closer. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up. You brought the goods, I hope?”
“It’s all on my ship. The entire collection.” I sipped the awful concoction that passed for a beer in this place. “More than enough guns to…” But I caught myself before I said more.
Chuckling, the woman signaled the bartender for a drink. “Don’t worry. Contrary to what the Magistratum’s propaganda machine would have you believe, hang-outs like this aren’t sympathetic to the imperial cause. The High Magistrate shouldn’t have any eyes or ears in here.”
I took a casual glance around. Sure enough, the nearby patrons appeared to be minding their own business. But there were just a few too many weapons around here for me to relax. “Forgive me if I’m skeptical. The last time I let my guard down, a friend of mine died.”
“Yeah, I heard about what happened to Torq. Nasty business.” My contact made a disgusted expression. She proceeded to practically inhale her drink. “I know Torq was your buddy. It won’t be the last time the Magistratum does that to someone.” Then, in a lower voice, “Listen, the resistance is willing to give you what you’re asking for. But what are you going to do with so much fuel? Just fly away from your problems?”
“I won’t have any problems once I’m off this ice-rock.” Maybe the old me would have stayed in this star system to fight the good fight. But something about seeing your best friend explode changes you. “By the time this sun fizzles out, I’ll be in a different galaxy. Call me a coward all you want. I just can’t see the appeal of waging an uphill war against a stronger enemy for a frozen turd of a planet that isn’t worth fighting over anyway.”
“Is that why you’re behind schedule? Because nothing’s worth it to you?”
Shifting uncomfortably on my stool, I was reminded of what was strapped to my thigh. “I’m late because I got stuck in hangar security. The Magistrate’s port authorities wouldn’t stop scanning my ship for laser weapons.” Thankfully Torq’s collection only included flechette rifles and other projectile launchers. She’d been old-school that way. Ah, Torq… “Listen, do we have a deal, or not?”
Scar-face looked to be deeply concentrating; her eyes shimmered in the sickly light seeping through the frosted windows, providing little warmth. “There isn’t any heat left in this galaxy that isn’t taxed by the Magistratum. You’ll be cold no matter where you go—cold, hungry, and poor. But you don’t have to be alone…”
“If this is where you try to recruit me, I’m not interested.” I shivered, and not just from the cold. “Maybe you’re content to follow someone who calls themself ‘the Invisible Blade,’ but not me.”
“Don’t you want to avenge your friend?”
“I’m more concerned with not sharing her fate.” Torq’s final transmission came to mind, the message she’d sent me just before the Magistratum torched her ship. Run. Just run as far as you can… I took another swallow of bad beer to wash that memory away.
“I know your type.” The woman ordered a second round with a lift of her glass. “You’ve always been floating aimlessly, right? Lacking purpose? Let me tell you what you need. The same things the rest of us do. Warmth. Food. Security. That’s what we’re fighting for. And we’re fighting together.”
I pretended all of that didn’t ring true. “I understand you’ve got a bone to pick with our evil overlords, but some of us want to survive. See, that’s what I’m good at…” I trailed off when I realized I’d raised my volume. I scanned the room, checking for stares. A man sitting in the corner averted his eyes too abruptly… or was I just being paranoid? I adjusted my leg, remembering my knives.
“Is that really all you want? To survive?” Her scoff fogged in the air. “Torq wouldn’t have associated with someone who doesn’t stand for anything.”
I laughed, maybe too loudly. “Give me a break. Torq wasn’t known for making great decisions. For instance, she let herself get mixed up with your resistance friends, which got her roasted.”
“All right, fine.” The woman with the scar crossed her arms and looked away. She seemed wholly disappointed. “Let’s get this trade over with, then. Your fuel is located in the north storage bay, cube five-one-three. And Torq’s guns?”
“My ship is docked nearby. Bring a hover-lift, and…” I was distracted by a blur of motion. The man in the corner was rising quickly. His sudden movement gave him away. That, and the blaster which appeared in his hand.
“What the—?” my contact began, before I shoved her. She hit the floor—and at the same instant, the stool where she’d been sitting turned into a sizzling pile of charred sawdust.
Somebody was screaming. Something shattered. I ignored all of that: I only saw the man in the corner, as he aimed again. The next laser blast put a smoking hole in the wall behind the bar. I didn’t even realize I’d ducked until I smelled burned hair, and felt a sting above my ear.
Too close.
My fighting instincts kicked in, and I moved without thinking, watching as my knife took flight, a spinning flash of metal. The flipping blade hardly touched the air before burying itself in the man’s chest. It slipped between his ribs, disappearing into the area of the heart. His eyes were gone ahead of his legs; he was dead even before he collapsed backward into his seat.
My contact gathered herself to her feet, surprisingly calm. Around the bar, various patrons had taken cover or drawn weapons. “Relax,” she told the room, as if she’d been expecting and prepared for such chaos. “This is resistance business, and it’s over now.” In the nervous silence she investigated her would-be killer’s body. She picked up the blaster and hid it inside her coat. Then she pulled out my knife, wiped it on the dead man’s shirt, and brought it back to me. “Hell of a throw.”
I felt dizzy. My mind raced along with my pulse. “That was a laser gun. That means…”
“Imperial assassin,” the scarred woman confirmed, speaking casually, as if she hadn’t just been the intended target. “While the High Magistrate is hoarding all of the laser-tech in the galaxy, we’re lucky he doesn’t teach his soldiers how to aim.”
There was scattered laughter and murmurs of agreement throughout the establishment. Then, amazingly… everything returned to normal. There was no real panic or rushing around. This resistance-loyal crowd was obviously accustomed to looking the other way, especially when asked. The corpse remained in the corner, unbothered, like dirty dishes nobody wanted to clean. I briefly wondered if I should be the one to drag the body away. Or was it being left out as a warning, even a trophy…?
I realized belatedly: I’d just killed someone.
This had happened before, but rarely.
For the first time in a while, I was not cold. Heart still pounding, I watched as the woman who should be dead slapped some credits on the counter of the bar. “For the scorch marks,” she told the bartender. “The resistance appreciates your tolerance and discretion.”
“Why would the Magistratum send an assassin?” I heard myself say, staring at this woman. “Unless you’re high up in the resistance, someone who doesn’t usually make appearances…” The word invisible came to mind, and my gaze dropped to her machete. Suddenly it clicked. Now I understood who I’d been talking to. “You’re…?”
“If you’ll excuse me,” said the Invisible Blade with a smile, “I have to go figure out who betrayed me. I have a feeling it wasn’t you, considering your new haircut.”
My fingers gingerly assessed the graze above my ear. My hand came away bright red with blood. Another inch, and there would have been a hole in my skull. “We still have a deal?” I asked, as eager as ever to get off this planet.
The leader of the resistance seemed amused. “Do you know who gave me this?” She ran a finger across her face, tracing her jagged scar. Her voice was calm, but low. “The High Magistrate himself. Now when I see myself in the mirror, I’m proud. This scar means I stand for something. When it comes to your reflection, what do you see?”
I might have proffered numerous sarcastic answers; in the end, I said simply, “I do have scars. Visible or not.”
“Of course.” The Invisible Blade was eyeing the door, looking as if she was about to become invisible again. “You’ll get your fuel, if that’s what you want. But before you fly too far away, consider this: I need someone like you. Someone who doesn’t relax, to watch my back.”
That took a few seconds to digest. Was she asking me to be her… bodyguard? “It was a huge risk for you to show up here alone, wasn’t it?”
“Consider this to have been… your audition. I wanted to know if what I heard about you was true—if you could handle yourself in a fight.”
“So this was all about recruiting me? You intentionally lured an imperial assassin?”
“Very few people were aware of our rendezvous today. I had a feeling somebody in my inner circle was an informant; now I know for sure.”
I just gaped at her. The risk…
“I’m offering you something to stand for.” The leader of the resistance headed for the door, and before I could make my voice work again, she was gone.
###
The course was charted. With a full tank, and without all of Torq’s old fashioned projectile weapons weighing down the ship, I had more than enough fuel to ditch this dying star and all of the cold rocks that orbited it. Despite the turbulence, there was no better feeling than breaking through the planet’s atmosphere, putting hundreds of thousands of kilometers between myself and the nearest Magistratum laser.
Soon I was coasting through black nothingness, the fading sun at my back. Now—ostensibly—I could relax. I took a very long breath. I could figure out where I was going later. (To be safe, it would need to be somewhere uninhabited.) For the moment, I tried to simply appreciate the silence.
I turned off my viewport, and I saw my reflection in the dead screen. My own face. Scars or not, was I… proud?
Torq’s screams echoed in my mind. Just run, she’d said. But we could have, should have, run away together. What were we waiting for?
Eventually I booted up the viewport again. I could still see my reflection in all of that starless space. That total emptiness…
Could I really be alone for the rest of my life?
I punched in a course-correction, hoping the Invisible Blade’s offer was still on the table. Because, I supposed, something was better than nothing.
Or rather, someone.