Corps Marker
“Well, at least you’ve still got the most expensive part,” Ryn said, glancing at him.
“Yeah…” Tyride replied, trying to conceal his irritation. He knew Ryn meant well, but her ceaseless optimism was beginning to wear on him. The Nickodenium power supply in his hands was worth the yearly gross production of a small planet, but it was useless without its outer housing. Though there was no physical evidence indicting where the dented surface covering had disappeared to, Tyr was certain he knew what had happened.
“You can just build another housing, right?” A bright smile followed the words, and Tyr smiled back, doing his best not to clench his teeth. Finding the components for the detector’s house casing had taken the better part of two years and trips to seven planets, and he knew for a fact that it had taken all of the Pleneurium on Drin VII to make the attunement arm. Creating another was possible – he still had the schematics – but time was another issue. The Corps were scheduled to arrive sometime in the next few weeks, and they would not be pleased with any delay. From what he’d heard, the war was not going well, and the Corps needed all the help they could get.
“Sure.” He said with a forced enthusiasm. “It shouldn’t take me too long.” There was no point in telling her what he was actually going to do – she would only worry, and if she was really feeling passionate about it, try to stop him. “Now, weren’t you talking about a trip to the city this week?” He led her over to the transport computer and brought up the schedules for the next few days. An overland shuttle was heading out tomorrow morning, and with any luck he could convince her to be on it.
“Well –“ she hesitated, and he put an arm around her shoulders. He loved her more than the machines he’d been tinkering with for the last twenty years, more than the recognition he knew he deserved for at least a dozen of the innovations the Corps took for granted, but Ryn remained firmly convinced that honesty and optimism were the cures for any ill. Tyr had seen too much, been deceived too many times.
“It’s fine,” he said gently. “I need time to work, anyway, and I’d really appreciate it if you could pick me up a few things I’ll need to put the finishing touches on the casing. I’ll make you a list, and it shouldn’t take more than four days for you to find everything and get back in time for the Corps.”
Ryn nodded, concern loud in her eyes, and Tyr spent the rest of the day convincing her a few days in the city would be as good for her as it would be for him. By the time night fell, he’d drawn up an entirely facetious list of parts he needed – one that would keep her busy long enough for him to find out the truth.
***
The sniffer he’d created to track the Pleneurium in his device picked up traces as soon as he turned it on in the workshop. Tyr knew that Raiders and Imperial loyalists in the area would love to get their hands on a scanner that could pierce any cloaking field, but he doubted any of them knew that the same material that made it such a powerful system also allowed it to be tracked over almost any distance. Pleneurium atoms were extraordinarily heavy and constantly bled off the attunement arm, making the direction the device had gone easy to determine. By noon he was up in the hills surrounding Ungale, looking down at the small collection of huts he’d called home for the last year.
It wasn’t long before he found the first body.
Sand-brown clothing and a ruddy face marked the man out as a Raider, and the knife wound in his belly made it obvious his death hadn’t come from natural causes. Raiders were a hardy bunch, and ferocious – it would have taken several men to overpower even one of the desert’s own.
Traces of Pleneurium led off to the west, but a shining bit of metal caught Tyr’s eye as he stepped around the dead man. Stooping to pick it up, the spark of rage he’d felt at seeing his creation gone fanned into a flame – the black and silver crest of the Empire was unmistakable. They would pay for this.
Five hours later brought him to a rock outcropping with a narrow crevasse carved into its side. The trail veered toward the small opening, and then moved back onto the rough track he was following, and he had every intention of passing the fissure by until a familiar smell caught his attention.
Two of the Empire’s best had been shoved into a hole roughly half their size, twisted limbs and pooled blood speaking to the ferocity of the encounter that had led to their deaths. Long black smudges were apparent on large portions of their clothing, and Tyr reached out and rubbed a thumb against the nearest mark. Powder easily came off on his skin, and quick sniff told him all he needed to know.
The Corps covered their tracks well – anyone less familiar with their methods would have assumed the Imperials had been murdered in retribution by Raiders, a notion shored up by the vicious nature of the attack. Corps gun powder, however, was something neither Radiers nor Imperials could duplicate. Tyr should know; he had created the basic formula.
He had three and half days until Ryn returned from the city – not much time, but enough if he was quick about his business. Finding what was sure to be a secret Corps base on the planet would be easy enough with the sniffer’s help, but murdering everyone inside and reclaiming his device would take more time. Stretching, Tyr grimaced. It had been years since he had killed anyone for a profit, and he had never enjoyed killing for revenge. Still, some insults could pass unanswered.
Whispering his love for Ryn into the gathering darkness, he moved swiftly, eyes on the sniffer’s readout and feet barely touching the sand as he ran.
- D
