Story #223 - Problem Solved?

Problem Solved?

It had been my intention to let the slight to my honor go. Really, among bounty hunters, the chance that you weren't going to be targeted by one of your employers was slim to none, so I'd tried not to take Done's attack personally. Unfortunately Grelik, the crime-lord I'd run afoul of, did not seem to be as high-minded.

Several failed attempts on my life later, and I found myself on-planet and just outside Grelik's massive country estate. I was fortunate to have worked with a personal friend of Grelik's some years ago, and had taken the opportunity to get my co-worker drunk on some of the most expensive wine in the quadrant, liberally sprinkled with a non-toxic truth agent. I'd learned all sorts of interesting things about the red-skinned criminal leader, not the least of which was the location of his home. My co-worker had never been the wiser – the drug I used left nothing behind but a bad headache, one conveniently covered by wine.

I checked my blaster batteries one last time, then double-checked the spares I had in my pack. I'd gone with six explosive charges for tonight, along with two sidearms and an energy-blade in case things went awry. Simply put, I was tired of being chased. Grelik had to depart the world of the living.

It had taken me some time to discover exactly what the crime-lord had against me. The incident with his friend was never uncovered, and I'd always provided Grelik with the same caliber of work I offered all my clients. I'd never failed a mission he assigned, directly or indirectly, and on the rare occasion he was required to speak to me in person, our discussions had been amicable. Heavy with the chance that either one of us could die within seconds, but still, amicable.

Thinking about one of those meetings had finally given me the clue I needed. Grelik was a Tarathar, and few of that race ever left their home planet on the outer rim. Their red skin set them apart, along with a sour disposition. Less than one thousand Taratharians could be found in the entire expanse, and I'd killed one not so long ago, a guard who'd been remarkably dedicated to the job of protecting his master when I arrived. Usually, hired hands fled when a hunter landed in their midst, but this one had charged me as soon as my feet hit the floor, and killing him had been my only option. I hadn't bothered to take a good look at his face – he wasn't the one I was after – but thinking back on it, a number of facial features began to overlap. I wasn't sure of the exact relation, but I'd killed one of Grelik's family members.

Most men in his position would let such gaffes go – his relative had chosen a life of crime and the risks that came with it – but my guess was that Grelik had been looking for an excuse to take me out. Once bounty hunters got to a “certain age”, we began to lose our shine to clients. Concerns would start to crop up about our physical prowess and reliability, and many crime bosses started to wonder just how much we knew and how we planned on using it.

Slipping the safety off of my gun, I sped down the treed slope, my feet making almost no sound on the forest floor. Grelik had guards everywhere, but they weren't expecting an attack since one had never come before, and certainly not from the densely-wooded foothills. Three died to my hands before a single sound was made, and even that cut off as a quick blade-swipe took out the throat carrying it.

Then it was just a matter of making my way toward the center of the large compound and accessing the upstairs. Grelik was overconfident – he'd put all of his trust in able-bodied men and spent virtually nothing on electronic systems. I could have defeated both, but simply having guards to deal with meant I was at his door far more quickly than I had anticipated.

A solid kick tore the door open and I rushed inside, blaster at the ready. There was the sound of sudden motion, and light flared beside the bed.

“You!” Grelik screamed, leaping to ground. “Guards! Guards!”

“They're dead,” I grated as I spooled up my blaster. A little hole wasn't going to do the job – I wanted everyone who saw what was left of Grelik to know the crime-lord had crossed the wrong man.

“It wasn't personal!' Grelik had dropped to his knees and had both hands in front of his chest. “Just business!”

“I bought that with Done,” I said, taking a step closer to the grovelling man, “but not when they kept coming. Killing one of your brethren wasn't on purpose – he was a guard for a target. You chose to make this personal, and now I've got to finish it.” Grelik had made things messy – mixed up business with emotion – I hated it when things got messy.

The hiss of a doser sounded next to my ear and I tried to turn, but it was too late. I got one step closer to Grelik before my legs gave out, and I fell to the floor, gasping. Tymnide, most likely; it would paralyze me for half an hour but leave me able to speak.

Strong hands rolled me over, and I was looking up at the faces of Grelik and a man I'd killed.

“Hello, son,” my father said quietly, dropping the cartridge from his doser, “you're looking well.”

Anything I could say would be gibberish, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Your father speaks highly of you, hunter,” Grelik said calmly, all traces of his former terror gone. “And that cousin of mine you killed is better off in the ground. No, I've been stinging you on purpose, hoping to draw you here. I even disabled by security system for you, sacrificed all those guards so you'd come talk to me.” He looked down at my paralyzed form. “Well, so your father and I could talk to you. We need your help, hunter.”

My initial problem had been solved – Grelik wasn't trying to kill me, and would stop sending men now that I was here – but a new one had taken its place.

Sons shouldn't have to kill their fathers.

- D