bounty hunting

…In Twelve Systems

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Fourth Directorate Bounty Office
Imperial Services center
Athra (Ringstars)

“This gets you 2,730 esteyn.”

“Th’ell it does! Th’reward’s ten thousand!”

“The reward for bringing in the outlaw is ten thousand. The reward for proof-of-kill alone without an intact mind-state is three-quarters, 7,500 esteyn. And –”

“Then give’s –”

“– that depends on us being able to tell that this actually was the outlaw. You put a thermal sword through his brain.” The ciseflish behind the desk poked the greasy box sitting in front of him with an expression of distaste. “And this is not a refrigerated container. Our scanner says this has a point three six four correlation with the target, so you get point three six four of the bounty.”

“Y’re cheatin’ us, y’coggie bastard. We killed ‘im square, and y’ –”

“Sha! Check the terms, unbound. The offer was for proof of kill, not meat burnt, hashed, and rotted. Count yourself lucky to be paid at all, and that you came here first. For goodwill’s sake, I’ll give you a copy of our scan report, which may help you extract some funds from those less likely to be generous where guess of kill is concerned.”

I Have The Death Sentence…

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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’.”