I Have The Death Sentence...

The alley behind “Hirsk’s Friendly”
Nepscia (Galith Waste)

The body lay propped up against one of the floatway walls, the hole that was its face steaming and smoking by turns.

“Sishk, did’y at least get which twelve systems before’y stuck a thermal sword through his head?”

“’E threw a grenade at me!”

“Y’re a linobir. Y’d grow back, and we’d get paid.”

“Bir-Rehsa, he said. Bir-Rehsa, Lan-Tak-Yar, Qern, Moglom, an’ Athra were all in ‘is bragging.”

“Shit, five different constellations t’start?”

“You know what they’ll want for proof of death?”

“Athra’s Impie. They’ll want his brain, and y’flash-boiled his brain.”

“They cn’ave that, then. A coupla trophies an’ my promise’ll get us paid on Bir-Rehsa an’ Moglom. Think the aklaks’d take a gene-print?”

“Proves y’got him, doesn’t prove y’killed him. And I’ve no clue what they’d want on Qern.”

“And ‘ow we going to get ‘im there, while you’re makin’ plans?”

“Next problem, that is. C’mon, pick him up and we’ll get him outside before he starts stinkin’.”