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Agents didn’t like analysts. Never had, never would. Analysts like Seph were responsible for the research, the groundwork, the diplomacy. Because most of them were former academics who specialized in alien cultures, they generally advocated for a tactful approach. Agents, on the other hand, preferred to shoot first and ask questions later. To them, a successful mission was one with a high body count.
With two-dozen bolt-guns pointed at his head, the merc nodded toward their group, completely unfazed. “Going down?” His Universal was surprisingly polished. The way he spoke, they could have been in a public elevator back on Earth, with bland, relaxing elevator music playing in the background.
There was always the possibility that they might not return. Seph knew it. They all knew it. That was why they got paid the big bucks; the danger fee. Or as Seph liked to call it, insanity money.
As the ship drifted toward the airlock, Torin wondered how the fuck he’d gotten himself into this mess. Really, it was all because of his damn curiosity and his secret affinity for humans.
Beneath his regular outfit was a suit, or another layer of armor, or something. Damn, it was like peeling an onion. A very, very dangerous onion.
“Hello, Persephone Winters.” To her absolute shock, he smiled—a broad, toothy, fangy, friendly smile. Seph usually disliked being called by her full name, but the way he said it—with that deep timbre; in that unique Kordolian accent—made it sound different, nice. The two sharp canines extending from his upper teeth gleamed in the dim light, giving him a predatory appearance. “I apologize for the rude introduction. I came to extract you from this mess.”
“It might seem trivial to you, but having the ability to protect ourselves is important to us.” “Oh, I know. I had a look at Earth’s history. You humans are actually quite a warlike people, but you have us now.” “Warlike? This coming from a Kordolian?”
Good things surprise me. Bad things annoy me. I’m used to dealing with the latter.”
“Most of the known Universe buys into certain stereotypes. Believe me, you’re not the only ones who have been painted with a single brush.”
“Are… are you making a move on me, Torin?” A pause. “It seems I am.”
Torin tried Parrus’s little cube on the inner doors, but they wouldn’t open, so he cut a man-sized hole in the metal and kicked it in, sending an oval-shaped piece of metal clattering to the floor.
“That concludes our first module on Bartharran politics,” Seph said, her voice becoming sharp as her irritation grew. “Now, considering that some of you haven’t been paying attention, I want a two thousand word discussion paper in my inbox by the end of tomorrow. The topic?” She frowned, considering her options. “Intra-planetary tribalism in the post-imperial Universe.”
