A saloon gal hustled over with a tray of beers and started passing them out. I didn’t touch mine. My stomach was too knotted up just then to consider putting anything in it.
When the saloon gal left, the shark guy sat forward, leaning his bulky arms on the table. “Word around the airwaves is there was a Death cultivator on Van Diemann who liquidated a whole city of Heavenly Contrails and Eight-Legged Dragons in an afternoon. Skinny meat roach hatchling thirsty for blood.”
Smoky leaned across the table and grabbed my shirt with a massive, fur-covered fist. The move hauled me halfway across the tabletop. I braced myself with both hands and got Death Metal ready to go just in case. Sanya just sat back and looked amused, so maybe self-defense Spirit use didn’t apply to the Ketsu etiquette.
“That was you?” Smoky snarled. Clouds of dog breath laced with beer filled my nose. “I lost a litter brother in that massacre, Death roach.”
Yoki the Stone Jackal’s face flashed through my brain, and I let go of the Miasma for my shields.
“Yoki Shinzu, right?” I said, trying to breathe in as little of Smoky’s halitosis as possible. “He was a good guy, and strong as all get-out. He helped us stop that Contrail army. Without him, we wouldn’t have survived. I’m sorry he didn’t make it out.” Considering I’d probably been the one who killed Yoki, “sorry” was a pretty big understatement, but it was all I had to give his brother.
Smoky’s brown dog eyes got a little less wild, and his fingers loosened up, letting me back down. The snarl was still etched on his face, but at least he wasn’t openly growling anymore.
Sanya-ketsu rapped her rubber-gloved knuckles on the table impatiently.
“Well, aren’t we all glad that’s resolved.” She turned to the academic guy. “Let’s get down to business, shall we? About the ruins you mentioned in your last message, Valthorpe...”
The academic guy blew out a breath, looking even more monkeylike as his mouth pouched out. “With the information you just dropped on us, I don’t know if the ruins are secure anymore. If Galston was feeding our locations to the Technols, they could already be laser-sight deep in the complex.”
Sanya-ketsu nodded. “Your message sounded quite keen on this new location. Did you learn what the Technols are searching for on Sarca?”
His eyes dropped to study the table. “Not yet, unfortunately. We just set up camp at these new ruins a few days ago, and that’s when we got the message to meet you here.” He raised his hands. “Not that we’re upset about that.”
“I am,” Smoky grumbled.
Unu snorted. “You’ve been hip deep in saloon gals and booze since we got to Tikrong. You ain’t upset.”
“The artifact, gentlemen.” Sanya-ketsu got them back on track.
“Right,” Valthorpe said. “Well, like I said, we haven’t had much time to get into the actual temple ruins themselves, but from the previous ruins, we’re most likely looking at sacrificial altars. The evidence lines up with my work on proto-religions in the system. Very bloody.”
Warcry nodded over his beer like he was following this, but it didn’t make any sense to me.
“Doesn’t ‘proto-religion’ mean like an early attempt at religion?” I asked. “Like too early to build temples because they weren’t that organized yet?”
Valthorpe scratched the crown of his head. “Galston and I reasoned that it’s likely the post-proto-civilization might have found the sites of the previous civilization’s rituals, raided the artifact, and set it up in a reliquary or shrine in one of their own temples to worship.”
Sanya’s rubber glove squeaked as she traced her thumb around the rim of her beer, but she didn’t lift her mask to take a sip.
“You can determine the likelihood of proto and post-proto,” she said, raising one brow, “but you can’t decide what the artifact itself does?”
“I’m sorry, esteemed Sown Dream cultivator, but not without having it in hand.” Valthorpe shifted in his seat. “As you can imagine, the carvings from a prelanguage society aren’t very explicatory. The key things we’ve learned at each site are that lots of people lost their lives there. Whether that was to power the artifact or in service to the artifact or just because these prehistoric peoples enjoyed sacrifice, we need more information before we can say for sure.”
“Academics,” Sanya-ketsu said, rolling her eyes. “Perhaps your new temple clearers can free up time for you to find the answers you need. They’ll be especially useful if Galston did manage to leak the location before his sentence was carried out.” She patted my shoulder. “As Butcher so helpfully pointed out, our new Death cultivator specializes in cutting gaping holes in rival Big Five gangs.”
Hemorrhaging Blood Money
“WE NEED TO RESUPPLY before we head back,” Valthorpe explained to me and Warcry as we followed him outside. Smoky, Unu, and Butcher were sticking around to hang out with the saloon gals. “The market’s near the center of the city. You boys should pick up whatever food and things you need for at least two weeks in the jungle, possibly more. One of you can have Galston’s tent, I suppose, but you might want your own blankets.”
A couple months ago when I had exactly zero credits to my name, I would’ve jumped on the free tent offer, but with the extra money in my USL account, I wasn’t sleeping where the guy I’d just killed used to sleep.
Warcry’s disgusted scowl said he wasn’t psyched about the idea, either.
“Thanks,” I said, “but I think we’re going to pass.”
Valthorpe shrugged. “Can’t say I blame you. Butcher and Smoky would probably see it as further desecration of Galston’s memory—and they’re the ones whose garrotes you’ve got to worry about in the middle of the night.”
“Charming lads,” Warcry muttered, glancing back at the saloon.
“We’ll leave Tikrong in two hours,” Valthorpe said, sending a location marker to our HUDs. “We’ve got a pack mewler, so all you’ve got to do is
