Blood Fever

CHAPTER ONE-2

MICH WRIGGLED IN HER seat and did everything she could not to tap her feet against the worn carpet. Grinding her teeth together, she straightened her back and glared at Steven Daeh’s sallow assistant. He had introduced himself as Sveen and was deliberately moving things around on his desk to avoid looking at her. She assumed he knew. It seemed everyone had heard. Rumors flew faster than interstellar spaceships, and the gossip and innuendo that surrounded her downfall seemed to be whispered wherever she turned.

All she needed was a job. That was the first step to clearing her name. The only step she had.

Her knee bounced in place, betraying her nerves. She stilled it with a grunt, pressing her hand hard into her thigh. He’d sign her. He had to. There was no other result she could accept. She needed the money—yesterday.

Glancing again at the closed door leading to the chief detective’s office, she wondered what was taking Daeh so long. Sitting here gave her too much time to think. Sara McCroy, her assigned psychiatrist, had picked up on her restlessness and had made a point of analyzing it during Mich’s second assessment. An interrogation couched as analysis. Four long hours of t*****e, and Mich should know—she’d been tortured by professionals.

Focusing her gaze on Sveen, Mich watched him touch each of the figurines leaning against his terminal screen. Clearly a nervous habit. There were eight. The one at the end was rare, if she wasn’t mistaken. Mich searched her mind for the figurine’s name.

“Are you in pain?”

Sara McCroy’s voice interrupted. Mich’s memories flashed involuntarily back to her assessment, sitting in that plain beige office. McCroy’s obvious attempts to get inside her head had been laughable, but she’d endured them. She hadn’t had a choice.

McCroy, a dark-skinned woman with an ample figure, had stared unblinkingly at her and Mich had felt the harsh judgment down to her core. She’d faked scratching an itch on her back to hide her need to squirm. Stop staring.

“No.” Her intention had been to keep all of her responses to McCroy’s questions short.

“You seem uncomfortable.”

“It’s been a long day.” She’d stretched out in her seat to appear relaxed and stared at the empty drinking glass on McCroy’s desk. Fingerprints were smudged all over the glass, turning it smokey, and crimson lipstick stained the rim. Her breath had caught as she’d eyed the smudge of color. Not the same; it’s not the same.

“Mich?”

“What?” She’d glanced back to find McCroy’s crimson lips pursed. The woman blinked slowly. “I asked if your other assessments went well?”

“Oh sure, yeah. They were fine.”

“Were they?”

“Yes.”

“If I don’t clear you, Hunter Prime Marke will not allow you back.”

“He got me out.”

“He did. You’re his responsibility. That doesn’t mean you are not an ongoing risk.”

“Then why get me out?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

Mich remembered straightening in her chair as the dig had hit home. Her eyes had shifted back to the glass. “Yes. I’m fine. Ready to get my life back.”

“Are you?”

I have to be.

Pushing the memories of her exit therapy session on the day she left The Clinic out of her mind, she glanced at the chief detective’s closed office door and sighed. Sara McCroy had been doing her job. Perhaps that was why it had been so hard, watching her dangling the bait, hoping Mich would bite. She’d been aware of McCroy’s probing, felt her twisting fingers searching Mich’s brain, but Mich had kept her out, humming softly. There was no way McCroy was getting inside to see how fractured her mind had become. What made McCroy think she could sit in judgment over Mich, making decisions that would affect every part of her life? Stuck in her little office all day, asking questions she already knew the answers to. McCroy couldn’t possibly understand.

A tune drifted into Mich’s periphery. She pushed it back. Not now.

She caught Sveen staring at her leg and followed his gaze down. It was twitching. Damn it. In an explosion of movement Mich jumped to her feet.

“Ma’am, he is not ready for you yet.” Sveen’s voice sounded harried. What did he have to be stressed about?

She stared him down. A light sheen broke out across his gray-toned face. He swiped a finger beneath his long nose and sniffed, breaking eye contact. “Please sit, I ... I’ll try again.” He tapped his screen harder than required. A flush painted his cheeks. Mich sighed and looked down, examining her hands.

The door to the chief detective’s office opened with a sharp tug, revealing a tall blue-suited, gray-skinned figure. Mich couldn’t hide her flinch at the sudden movement.

Steven Daeh scrutinized her for a long moment. She couldn’t read his expression and that worried her. Inside her mind, she screamed, but she held his gaze. He wouldn’t know her mental state unless she exposed it. Eventually, he gestured for her to enter. He didn’t step aside, so she was forced to brush against him as she passed through the doorway. Her hand touched his jacket and her recoil was dramatic. She cringed at the reaction. Another failure. She was too close to the edge and she was slipping.

Inhaling sharply, she ended up with a mouthful of his cologne—something peppery. At least it wasn’t cinnamon. Still, she held her breath until she was clear of his scent. That damned tune was back dancing in the corners of her mind again.

“Mich Janelle?”

She eyed the man seated at the desk. When had he sat down? “Sir?”

“You are here about the job?”

She forced herself to breathe deeply, expanding her stomach and counting to eight before exhaling equally slowly. Hopefully her face was not as red as the heat blooming in it suggested. “Yes.”

His gaze searched her face for every minute movement, assessing her reactions and drawing his own conclusions. Her skin itched. “You used to work for the central government as a Hunter?”

“Yes.”

“Hunters are well trained.”

“Yes.”

“Why do you want to work here, of all places?”

That feeling of being prey was back. “You know my story.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

She narrowed her eyes, assessing him in return. Steven Daeh’s agency had a good reputation for getting the job done. Daeh himself was reportedly harsh but fair, and also an ex-Hunter. That would either work in her favor or severely against her. “I was a Hunter and now I’m not. I didn’t do what they said I did.”

“So why not go back?”

“They threw me under.”

He studied her. “Tell me about Temok Marke.”

Mich clenched her jaw. She couldn’t help it. Determined, she forced her fingers to relax and worked her jaw open. “My ex-boss.”

“He got you out of The Clinic.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She couldn’t answer that.

She didn’t know the answer to that.

It was the one answer she desperately wanted. She’d lost everything. Her job, her dream, her home. All of it. And even after she got out, she’d still lost everything.

“I have a copy of your file.”

Hell’s spawn. She didn’t speak, but her stomach sank. He knows. She clenched her fists and waited for his rejection.

Daeh sat unmoving, his face emotionless as he recounted her Hunter stats. “You were good. But out there, doubt will kill you quicker than a blade. Do you think you’re up to it?”

She didn’t respond.

“Your reflexes can be retaught. It’s your mental assessment I’m concerned about.”

Damn McCroy. Gripping the armrests of her chair, Mich leaned forward and hissed, “How can Sara McCroy make a judgment on that? She’s an office rat. She has no idea what it takes to be out there. I did nothing wrong.” Mich’s pulse was in orbit. She could feel it pounding like a hammer in her neck, fast and growing faster.

Daeh pressed his hands into the surface of his desk—a sign of frustration? Staring into his face, she spied the muscle of his right eye twitching. “How can I be sure?” he said.

The last thread on her frayed nerves snapped. “So I’m damned by my history? I was framed. But my word is clearly not enough. How can I prove I’m no longer ‘crazy’ when I never was? I need a job. I do good work. I’m fast and I don’t complain—much—and I’ll do whatever spawning job you have on the books that no one wants. You know my training. You’ve done it yourself—yes, I looked you up too. It’s what I do. I can do this.”

“Once a Hunter.”

“You of all people know Hunters are not unbreakable, untouchable or omnipotent. They are not always good. Or right.” She clawed at the armrests on her chair. The urge to run exploded inside her; she wanted to storm out, shouting, “Take the job and shove it out an airlock.” She might be unbalanced—crazy even—but she wasn’t useless. She could still work.

His eyebrows drew together. She was getting all sorts of facial tics and couldn’t read them. Was she reaching him or not? He had been a top-notch Hunter. One of the best. A stickler for the rules and cool as a k-cit in a crisis. Nothing could break his focus. If she wasn’t so angry, she’d be shocked he was showing her anything at all. The mask of Steven Daeh was Hunter canon. A legend, no one broke his mask of indifference. She had no idea what it meant that she had.

“You need a new detective or not?” she asked him.

“I’m inclined to give you a shot.” He paused, during which time her heart sank again. “You will be on a Watch and Report case, and you will be required to check in every day. Keep this with you at all times.” He held out a tracking disk.

She jumped to her feet and slammed her hands down on his desk. “That’s barely better than a desk job.” The tracker meant she didn’t have any personal freedom. Was that typical of probation here, or was it just her? How could she look into her own case if she was on that tight of a leash?

He steepled his fingers, his face a mask once more. “It’s your only option. If you won’t accept that, then you’re not hired.”

She’d take it, of course. It was a start, one she desperately needed. As long as she was out there, she could look into Tripness—kill them all.

The jerk of her head nearly exposed her thoughts.

Her real mission was to discover the identity of the man who had destroyed her life. This way, it would take longer. She wouldn’t get the same resources as a detective on a fully active case. Maybe, with a few successful cases under her belt, he’d give her more freedom, and better access.

Daeh spoke, seemingly reading her mind. “I’ll require a psychological assessment completed every half year.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I was set up. Someone within the Hunters did this to me. I’m not incapable of doing my job. I am not unstable.” She’d keep repeating it until she was blue from lack of oxygen. It was the truth.

“You’re paranoid and you doubt yourself. It’s not a good combination.” And there it was—he didn’t believe her either.

A flicker of doubt danced through her mind, like a shadow projected on a wall. Was he right? Could she trust her own fractured thoughts? She’d hoped this man—this ex-Hunter—might help her. Obviously not.

For now, she’d play the game. Drop the accusations, be a good little low-level detective and bide her time. She’d get the proof herself and expose the traitor to get her justice—and her revenge.

Sitting back down, she said sullenly, “No tests.”

“Then you will remain on Watch and Report cases. I have an agency to run, Janelle. I won’t put my company’s reputation at risk. Do you understand me?”

“Fine.”

But when she asked for the mission details, he hesitated. Holding onto the tablet he pulled from his desk, he stared at her intently before he handed it over. She skimmed through the report silently. There was an image captured from what was probably a street camera of a man with long cherry-red hair that covered his face and blended into his head, arms and any other part of his body not covered by his clothes. She couldn’t make out much of his features other than the thin lips and bulbous nose. A man from the settlement on Shol—the planet’s low temperatures had forced that particular hairy mutation, it made sholans instantly recognizable.

“His name is Yetti,” Daeh said.

“Aptly named,” she said drily.

Daeh’s nose twitched. “You know your One Earth history?”

“Only old fairytales.”

“Well, it’s not relevant to the case. Yetti is a tech smuggler currently living on Ketal Seven.”

An outer spiral world well out from the central planetary systems. Mich realized with a silent sigh that she’d have a long flight ahead of her. She’d have to rent a ship or book passage on another TS Cruisers line. Hopefully Daeh would give her an advance on her first pay chip.

“Find Yetti and report back on who he works for. I want the name of his contacts and anyone he meets with on a regular basis.”

“And then what?”

“That’s it.”

Sounded boring. Still, it would get her far away from her old Hunter circles, the only positive she could see from working this case. Watch and Report. What a nightmare.

Raising the tablet level with her eyes, she winked on her personal eye port and synched to the agency-issued device. Yetti’s file saved to her private storage bank. A flash of light indicated the transfer was complete. She handed the tablet back to Daeh.

“They didn’t take your chip?”

“They deactivated it.”

He nodded. “You’ve had it scanned for malicious software?”

Containing her snort, she nodded. “First thing I did when I got it back on.”

“Then welcome to the team, Janelle, and good luck.”

She forced the request through gritted teeth. “I’ll need an advance on my pay.”

He pointed to her wrist. “Sveen will organize a company identification hologram for you. It includes an expense account. Keep all your tokens. You’ll need to justify every spend.”

She sighed. More tracking. Just great.

“Be careful out there.”

How dangerous could a surveillance mission be? Standing, she nodded, exited the office and headed straight for Sveen’s desk.

At least she was back to work. Her stomach flipped at the unfairness of it all. Don’t show any weakness. Bile rose up in the back of her throat. She swallowed it away and told Sveen that Daeh had ordered she get the identification hologram.

She tapped her foot as she waited. Actually, this was perfect. She’d have plenty of time to research Tripness now, the failed case that had ended in her arrest—kill them all.

The case had started on Planet Five, one of the six central planets that made up the political core of the spiral. Ketal Seven’s distance from Planet Five would cause an irritating delay, but she’d be able to get basic information from the company’s servers. Surveilling Yetti would give her time, and time was all she needed.

Finding the connection between Tripness—kill them all—and the Hunters would be her launching point. Even if it took dissecting the lives of every one of Tripness’s five hundred employees, she would find the link. And when she found it, she would kill them all.