Only the most trusted men of the Ssykes family stood in the stasis vault as the final locks were opened, revealing the silver flask within. Their high-class business suits clashed with their overly muscled physiques and tattooed skin. Arevaz had just recently been inducted as a full-fledged capo, his lips still stained purple from the oath fountain.
"So, have you ever seen this guy?" he asked, looking around in amazement as he set down a crate.
Solub chewed on the cigar nub tucked in the corner of his mouth. "I've never seen him, no one has."
"I don't imagine he'd be a very good agent if he showed his face," Izazulu mused as he set down the last crate of explosives.
Rog checked the detonation caps and eyed the silver flask. "I sure hope the boss knows what he's doing. This stuff is wicked dangerous, even at this price."
"Some kind of protection can't be bought with just cash," Seedoon advised. The rest of them knew better than to ask further. In a galaxy full of overzealous law enforcement, there was no protection more perfect than ignorance.
Suddenly the vial vanished right in front of their eyes. No portal, no aetheric wake, it was simply gone, as if it had never existed. Arevaz was so surprised he stepped towards it, but his pants fell down around his ankles, and he came crashing down to the vault floor.
The rest of the men laughed heartily.
"What the trakk was that?" Arevaz asked, pulling his pants back up. The suspenders had been cut clean through.
"Ah, that's their agent's calling card," Solub explained. "Happens every time to the new guy."
"You could have warned me."
Rog smacked him on the back. "Now, where's the fun in that?"
"Don't sweat it," Grazoarl said. "Last time their agent got me."
Solub spat out his cigar. "Okay, clear it out."
One by one, the air folded around the men and they were all gone, save for Solub. He took out his lighter and caught the corner of his handkerchief on fire. Tossing it onto the pile of explosives, he folded himself out just as the fire spread to the detonators.
* * *
Ilrica's dorm room was shredded, as if a cat the size of a truck had sharpened its claws against every conceivable surface. After her first week at the academy, the cleaning robots had gone on strike, refusing to go into her room any more, which she appreciated. Bertulf hygiene required time and privacy, and she valued both.
But like most things she did, there was a pragmatic side to it as well. Her room was filled with hundreds of vials containing genetic samples and dozens of genome sequencers, working silently day and night. There were priceless genealogical records stolen from the academy vaults and stacks and stacks of hollow tablets used to shuffle around the materials. She had a regular little cottage industry going in her room, and the last thing she needed was some little robot stumbling onto all of it.
And now, the most dangerous thing she had ever possessed. Eleven liters of nano-mimetic gel. It sat in a silver flask between her legs as she meditated deeply at the center of the fire ring she had laid out. Deeper and deeper, the air before her folded in on itself, the necass she generated pushing harder and harder against the fabric of the aether. Sweat rolled down her cheeks, a trickle of blood came out of her nose. This was Kenila Kaa'ro, the most sacred ceremony of the Bertulf, and she was terrible at it.
Her body strained as she pushed harder. The wound she was creating in the air grew deeper and deeper. Her muscles trembled, her vision began to blur. Just before she lost consciousness, it punched through.
There was a rush of air in the well before her. The candles and flame were snuffed out. Air and bits of dust fell in from all sides. It was only a few molecules wide, but it led to a place half way across the galaxy.
Ilrica wiped her nose and tried not to be disappointed in how small it was. She had seen hunting parties as small as six create a wind tunnel big enough for a full grown hunter to walk through. It didn't matter anyway; anything larger than this and the academy's defense grid would pick it up and shut it down.
Ilrica took out a little device and plugged it into the back of her neck. There was no way she would entrust something as sensitive as this to standard waves. Even the best encryptions could eventually be sliced through, given enough time, and time was not on her side.
A beam of energy came off the device and was sucked into the well. A window opened up in the air before her, and she waited for the other end to be established.
She was so excited she could scarcely breathe. She bounced her knees up and down like a little kid as she waited. All her months of work, all her years of loneliness were about to finally come to an end. She could almost taste the meat of the feast already, and she smacked her jaws at the thought of it.
The device chimed and Liufr Ivaylo appeared in the window. His sharp eyes scanned the edges of it distastefully. Ilrica stopped her bobbing and became deadly serious.
"I have the package," she said in her native tongue.
Liufr sniffed. She never had learned their tongue properly, and what's worse, she had developed a bit of an accent after living at the Academy for so long. He clearly disproved of both.
"Does it have the rest of the samples?" he asked back in their snarling language.
"Yes, the east wing had frequent sweeps after the explosion, but I managed to get the last of them. They're being processed now. How shall I pass the package?"
"This time they've made it too easy. There is a goodwill tour being sponsored by the academy. One of their first stops will be our old hunting grounds at Orthiax. Make sure you are on it."
The window closed, and the wind tunnel folded in on itself and vanished. Liufr was his usual acerbic self and it bothered her a little. She thought she had long ago lost the desire for praise and respect, but being around Dyson so much as of late had spoiled her to such niceties.
"...Dyson."
Ilrica fell back and looked up at the shredded ceiling tiles. A part of her had hoped to slip away without ever having to see him again. Another part of her was terrified at the thought that she might never see him again.
She had never felt this way about anyone before. She didn't know how to handle it. Didn't know if she could handle it. A part of her wanted nothing more than to explore such feelings. Another part of her knew that to do so was insanely dangerous.
"Dyson is going to be on that tour..."
She rolled over, and convinced herself to find another way to get to Orthianx. Sure, there would be trouble for deviating from orders, but once her mission was over with, none of that would matter anymore.
"Everything has to be for the mission, all for the mission," she chanted to herself. "Just finish the mission. Then you can be happy... right?"
She wrapped her arms around her knees and curled up into a little ball. Her green eyes were uncertain.
"Come on, trucc it up! Get it together! You are about to become a real hunter. You are about to get everything you ever wanted, everything you ever dreamed of. You don't need him... right?"
She wrapped her tail around herself sadly.
"If I'm about to get everything I wanted... why don't I feel happy?"