Night Song (The Guild Wars Book 9) by Mark Wandrey (best management books of all time .txt) 📗

good size pile of credits was in her future, so she simply waited while the suspicious little rat had her lackies go through the bags.

The only thing the Veetanho customs agent was curious about was a bag with Human writing on it. “What is this?”

“A snack I found while there. It’s called a Milk-Bone.”

The Veetanho ran her slate over the bag, wasting several more minutes as a complete translation was finished and analyzed. “The scan verifies your story, but says they are for an Earth animal known as a ‘dog.’ Why are you exporting them?”

“Because they taste good,” Chuuz said darkly.

The Veetanho grunted and seemed to consider confiscating them. Chuuz would be annoyed. Some Human had tossed one at her as some sort of joke, but she’d actually developed a taste for the crunchy treats. However, the Veetanho eventually relented and put them back in one of Chuuz’s bags, making notes in her slate. “You are cleared to enter Karma.”

Chuuz took her bags and left without comment. To entropy with the cursed rat. She floated out through the promenade. As she went, she saw every access docking collar had a team of Lumar and Veetanho. Some were checking travelers, others not. She guessed the ones under scrutiny were like her, departures from Earth.

She took the first companionway out of the promenade to one of the station’s huge spokes, then boarded an elevator to the first ring. Gravity grew steadily higher as they rose, and she looked forward to taking the tubes downward. In less time than it had taken the Veetanho to scrutinize her bags, Chuuz reached the company office and checked in.

Somewhat richer for her extended stay in Human space, she did the same thing every merc did after getting paid—she headed for the bar.

On the C ring, in ¾ gravity, she quickly located the bar she’d always come to when visiting Karma station. Ek’to Braga had been founded over 500 years ago by a retired Zuul merc as a quiet little place for members of his ex-company to come, drink, and tell stories about their exploits. In the centuries since his death, it had become the must-see bar for Zuul in the Tolo arm.

When Chuuz entered through the ornate door, trimmed with wood from Ja, she found it nearly empty. She suppressed her disappointment and went to the bar. Like many such facilities, Ek’to Braga used robotic bartenders and autochefs. The current owners, while still Zuul, seldom visited the facility. She ordered a home-brewed ale and looked around the sparse crowd for a familiar face.

At one end she spotted a pair of marines, recognizable by the unit insignia on their harnesses. Nearby, a booth with nine Zuul caught her interest, then she noticed they wore Human-designed vests. Her ears flattened, and she focused on the logo they all wore. They were all members of the Winged Hussars, one of the Humans’ Four Horsemen.

As if it weren’t bad enough that Karma Station was lousy with Humans, she had to run into her own kind who worked for a Human merc unit. Her lip curled in annoyance, Chuuz moved further to the other side of the bar. She’d begun to consider going somewhere else when she finally spotted a familiar face.

“Eshti, is that you?” The graying Zuul’s head came around and she was sure. “Kobo Ask’sha!”

“Chuuz, it’s been many years.” The older Zuul male stood and tilted his head back, holding his arms out. They scented each other’s necks, then touched muzzles briefly.

Chuuz let the scent of her old friend roll through her sinuses and smiled. “It is good to smell a familiar friend,” she said. Eshti gestured to one of the other seats, and they got comfortable. “How have you been? Are you still with Zi-Aakatal?”

“Sure,” Eshti said. “Why leave the clan’s company?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Chuuz replied.

Eshti flicked his ears forward, then shrugged. “You do what you have to do in order to survive.”

Chuuz stared at the table for a long moment, then used the built-in computer to order a drink. A robot delivered it in moments. She’d decided to change the subject, when she remembered the odd encounter she’d had on Earth. “Speaking of clans, I ran into something weird on Earth.”

“Earth?” Eshti grunted, one ear swiveling. “You were there?”

Chuuz explained how she’d ended up in a logistics role with a Maki fleet, arriving just as the Peacemakers had swept in, stopping the war.

“We heard about that. Amazing, the Peacemakers sided with the Humans.”

“I’m not sure if that’s what happened,” Chuuz said. “However, it’s not the truce I’m talking about. It was the Zuul I met, who grew up on Earth.”

Eshti’s muzzle crinkled in surprise as she detailed the encounter, fishing out the Human merc company’s card as her finale.

“And she didn’t know her clan or home world or anything?” His ears flickered in confusion.

“No,” Chuuz said.

“What was her smell?”

“That’s just it…I’ve never smelled the clan before.” Eshti looked doubtful. “She was clearly Fe Es’Ufu, a strange clan scent, and Joat, Jaf, Jal.”

“Three base scent elements?”

“Weird, right?”

Chuuz nodded. A Zuul’s powerful sense of smell could identify a great deal about another Zuul from a simple sniff. Sex, caste, clan, and three sets of scent elements, each with six different identifiers. Using those smells, a Zuul could pick a fellow out of a good-sized crowd when away from their origin worlds or clans. Individual Zuul-specific scents couldn’t be described, but they could be recognized.

“How about the world?”

Chuuz grunted. A clan scent was linked with the world a clan came from. Most worlds had hundreds, or even thousands of individual clans. But the Zuul who called herself Ripley had a highly unusual world/clan scent.

“I’ve only smelled it once before, a male from Ja.”

“The home world?”

Chuuz nodded again. Eshti’s tail thumped behind him,