This story was also published at Six Sentences. (Yay! Published work!)

Novara is not a planet for nice girls like me. It’s a dead rock littered with drunk and desperate men. I met my contact in one of the seedier dives on the outskirts of the urban decay. He perched on a barstool and clutched a drink like a molting raptor. I eased up to the bar and ordered two shots of juscou from a bartender with shimmering purple eyes. Maybe they were violet. The willowy barkeep wore his Valosian heritage seductively. The gnarled up bird man on my left wore his heritage like a cadaver. I took my first shot. Bang! The fumes alone were enough to evacuate my sinuses. That is potent little water!

I slapped the empty shot down on the bar. “You’re looking for a courier?” The dead bird’s neck crackled as he turned to look at me.

“You are Molly Kitaen, I trust?” he rasped. I handed him a chin nod. “This way.” He lifted himself off of his perch and scuttled to the back room.

Bang! The second shot finished what the first one started. I’m going to have to remember this dump … for the juscou.

Every hair on my body stood up as I stepped into the dark room. Or was it the juscou? The smoky haze of the joint cloaked the shapes of the VR junkies getting their fix. The scent of sweat and booze clung to the skin. Lasers diffused by the smoke cast a nauseating glow throughout the room. Three neglected pool tables brooded in the center of the room. At the far end of the room several boarded up windows kept unwelcome daylight at bay. My only way out was the way I came in. This royally blows.

I joined my contact in a secluded corner booth. He sat facing the exit. The bastard really wanted to fuck with my head. I wasn’t going to let him. My fingers danced over Betty’s open holster as I plopped down across from him, my back toward the exit.

“The Skirillians are planning to invade Capelia.”

“Oh really?” He was full of shit. “With the Antarean line of defense, the Skirillinas couldn’t invade their way into an empty beer can.”

“They have found a way to exploit certain … weaknesses in the Antarean defense.”

I scoffed. “How?”

“Wormholes,” he replied.

“Wormholes?! Swiff drives have been obsolete for over a century. Not to mention completely fucking dangerous. There’s crap wormholes out there now devouring entire fleets for breakfast! Are the Skirillians really stupid enough to try using them?” He just sat there and leered at me with his hollow eyes. “So what do you want me to do?”

He showed me a small data crystal. “This holo contains all the data on the invasion fleet.” He pursed his lips until his mouth was nothing but a wide crease across his chin. “My colleagues and I want you to get this to Allied forces on Com 26.” I reached for the chip. He pulled it away. “Can you do that?”

“Yeah I can do that.” I grinned. “But I’m not a cheap date.”

His eyes widened, revealing a red iridescence in the putrid laserlight. He was clearly a native and probably loathed the Skirillians passionately. He squinted those red eyes into serpentine slits. “State your terms,” he hissed.

“Fifteen thousand, in advance.”

His jawline rippled with clenched teeth. Immediately I took Betty in a sweet caress. He set the crystal on the table and dug his hand deep into his coat. Betty jumped out and I slapped her down onto the table, my finger on her trigger. “Don’t. Try. Anything.” He glared at me as his hand emerged with a potent stack of cash. He theatrically placed the money on the table halfway between us.

“Seven thousand now, ten more when the job is done.” I leered at the money hungrily, like the cretins outside who leered at me earlier. “Do we have an accord?”

My eyes never left the stack. A “yeah” dropped from my mouth like saliva. I swiped the cash from the table and nestled it in my jacket, barely disguising my delight. He picked the crystal up from the table. I plucked it from his fingers like fruit from a dying tree and stashed it with the money.

“Now,” he began, lighting a cigarette, “get the hell out of my sight.” He took a long drag off a cancer stick and heft a fat cloud into my face. The smoke revealed another laser. Too low to be mood lighting, and too red. It painted a bindi on my cohort’s forehead. I went electric. Pop! His head burst, painting me crimson. I snatched Betty and fired blindly behind me. Cyber junkies dove in terror beneath their terminals, still jacked in. The scent of lightning and molten flesh infused the already acrid air. Pulses of white hot light devoured the booth. I turned Betty away from the onslaught and fired at the boarded up windows. Shards and splinters flew as shafts of piercing sunlight flooded into the room. I seized the moment and leapt from the booth, hopping the pool tables like lily pads. Probably the most action they’ve seen in years. Pulses of light scorched past me from behind as I leapt out the ravaged window. My body contorted in space, Betty aimed and ready. The ground raced up and slammed mercilessly into me. A light dusting of debris camouflaged me from further blasts. I aimed Betty, ready to lay waste but nothing came. I nabbed hold of my scarce breath, collected myself from the garbage, and staggered my way back to the aircar.