Selenity owns Fire Blossom, Frank, and Annabellina. Nyneve owns Saxen Maverick and Moksha. All other characters belong to their rightful creators.
Prologue:
Fire Blossom. Saxen Maverick.
"100 cups of coffee on the wall…" Sharon sang quietly to herself, in an attempt to stay awake long enough to drive the truck. She knew that you could keep going for only so long on cheap coffee and snack foods, but when she was in a rush to get home and hadn't thought about the consequences.
Sharon was just an average, middle-aged dog breeder. Her once honey colored hair was now graying, but she had decided long ago that it looked distinguished. She really had never seen the point in attempting to look younger than she was. With all those powders and lotions, she would end up appearing older, not to mention cakey. Her dogs certainly didn't care how she looked.
Her dogs. She loved her dogs more than anything. A lot of people these days were more interested in "exotic" animals shipped in from other planets and systems…but she supposed she was just an old-fashioned girl. Dogs were her life.
In the impending twilight she spied a dark shape on the side of the road. It appeared humanoid, sitting on something. Squinting, she realized it was a girl, on top of a large backpack. She was reading something by the light of…shaking her head and closing her eyes, Sharon leaned forward. The caffeine was playing tricks on her. It looked like there was a flame coming from the girl's thumb.
As her truck grew nearer, the girl suddenly leapt to her feet and stuck out her thumb—now clearly unlit—in the universal way that identified her as a hitchhiker. Sharon debated for a few seconds before applying the brake. What the hell…at the very least having someone to talk to would help her stay awake.
The door was pulled open and the backpack thumped into the car, closely followed by its mistress. She appeared to be in her late teens, with hair almost the color of chocolate. Except for on the ends, where it had been dyed a violent shade of red. She seemed relatively clean cut for a hitchhiker, with only one tastefully sparkling earring in the cartilage of her left ear. Her eyes were probably the most interesting part of her. At first glance, they seemed ordinary and brown. But any closer inspection showed strange golden flecks that seemed to move and disappear at times. Other than that, she was extremely unremarkable. Though for some reason, that set Sharon on edge.
"Thanks," she buckled her seatbelt and startled Sharon out of her studying, "Not many people out tonight. Even fewer willing to give a poor girl a ride." She laughed heartily, but Sharon didn't get the joke.
"I'm Sharon," she offered.
"Fire Blossom," The girl began rooting around in her extraordinarily lumpy backpack, "But since we're such close friends, you can call me Effie." Sharon wrinkled her nose.
"Your parents named you Fire Blossom?"
"Nope, my parents named me Kathy. Aha!" She crowed with triumph after producing a small bottle of black nail polish. Sharon was amazed it hadn't been smashed to pieces, "But I figured Fire Blossom fit me better."
"Hmm." Sharon tried to sound noncommittal but was berating herself. What was she thinking, picking up a hitchhiker? This girl was probably some kind of psychopath! "Where are you heading?"
"Anywhere you are…" Effie stuck her tongue out in concentration as she began the incredibly difficult feat of painting her nails inside a moving vehicle, "Though I'd prefer some kind of city. Something with shuttle access."
"Space, huh? Going home?"
"No way, I'm an Earth girl, born and bred. I never really understood that expression, do you—oh crap!" She had created a long streak of nail polish along her…well, it appeared to be a tie-dyed trench coat. Rubbing furiously at it with a Kleenex that had miraculously appeared out of her backpack, she grumbled under her breath.
Sharon couldn't help but laugh at her fury. Effie turned back, scowling. But laughter proved to be contagious and soon they were both laughing. Sharon began to feel much more at ease.
"You know," she started, "when I first saw you on the side of the road, I could have sworn you had a fire coming from your finger."
"What," Effie said, "like this?" And with that, she flicked her thumb as though lighting a match, and sure enough…a small flame blazed off it.
Sharon nearly drove off the road. She gaped at her.
"What kind of psycho trick is that?"
"No trick," the girl shrugged and the flame disappeared, "useful, but if it makes you uncomfortable I won't do it."
"But," Sharon's eyes darted from Effie's face to her thumb, "how do you do it?"
"I'm Connected," she said enigmatically, and refused to say anymore on the subject.
They rode in silence a while longer, Sharon quite shaken and strongly regretting ever letting this girl into her truck. What Effie thought was anyone's guess…she had buried herself in a book that did not appear to have a title. It was quite thick, and a mottled gray color. It did not appear to have any other signs of age, but gave off a great feeling of knowledge. Sharon glanced at it out of the corner of her eye several times before her curiosity got the better of her.
"What are you reading?"
"A book." Sharon rolled her eyes.
"What kind of book?"
"A good book," she turned a page, seemingly oblivious to Sharon's growing discomfort.
"What's it called?" Sharon persisted.
"Annabellina." Sharon laughed dryly and Effie looked up, "I'm serious. That's what I call her."
"Her?"
"Well, yes."
"How do you know it's a girl book?"
"Sometimes you just know. Ah, here we go!" Sharon looked up and realized they had finally reached a city. She had been so distracted by…Annabellina…that she hadn't noticed. Effie grabbed the backpack again and shoved the book in rather unceremoniously.
"Goodbye Sharon, and thank you for the ride!" She unlatched the door and hopped out, "Come along, Frank." Immediately the backpack rose a few centimeters off the floor of the truck and floated out to hover near her waist. Sharon gaped as the door slammed and Effie waved jovially from the sidewalk.
She flattened the gas pedal and got as far away from the girl called Fire Blossom as quickly as she could. She was never going to pick up another hitchhiker as long as she lived.
Back where she had been dropped off, Effie waited until the truck was out of sight then turned to her backpack.
"Well, Frank, I guess it's time we started communing with the stars," her smile faded and she frowned at the floating bag, "I am not 'hippy dippy'. Well, same to you. Oh," she full out scowled at her backpack, "shut up."
"You can't bring that dog in here," the man said.
He was around forty or forty-five years old, humanoid, overweight, with square glasses and a fringe of greasy black hair around his rather lumpy head. He owned the small casino called Prospero's on a once-thriving satellite just outside of the Orion system (though everything except the casino, a few bars, and a fleabag hotel were now closed). His name was Gunthar Corona, though the regulars called him "Gunny." Oddly conservative for a casino owner, he was also quite irritable and targeted the drunks and stoners that visited Prospero's. He claimed it was because they were a bad image and bad for business, but everyone knew he was just blaming them for the fact that old Gunny couldn't run a casino to save his grandma's life and lost approximately 10K a week.
But meanwhile, the current instigator was somewhat strange. It was a woman, and a sober and clean one at that. However, no one could argue about the roughness of her. Indeed, at first glance it would be unclear as to whether she was a human female at all, but, after study, it seemed she was. She was tall and tan, features that marked her as a native of one of the Maffei III planets, all ten of which were dangerously close to the central sun, Surya. Her right eye was covered by a brown leather patch to match her brown leather hat, coat, boots, pants, and fingerless gloves. There was also a long maroon scar that ran beneath the patch from her temple, to her cheek, to her chin. Tiger's Eye studs glimmered in both of her ears, and a simple copper band, not unlike a wedding ring, was on her right ring finger. And the most intimidating thing about her was the Gaganite rifle (A Doomsday Beta-shot, to be specific) slung across her back.
Old Gunny didn't seem to notice the firearm though, because at the moment he was warily eying the dog standing next to the woman. He never did like dogs. Ever since one had bitten him as a child, he had been deathly afraid of them (not that he'd ever admit that to anyone). And this one was one of the worst he'd ever seen. It was blood red and stood hip high on the woman. The facial features and ears were pointed, and its body was long and lean. The dog opened its mouth in a yawn, revealing glittering ivory canines, then sat down and looked up at him indifferently with its curious gold eyes.
The woman glanced at him. "Wolf," she corrected, fixing her single orange eye on him. It seemed to glow from under the shadow cast by the hat's wide brim.
"What?" Gunny cocked his head.
"He's not a dog, he's a wolf. And he's with me," the woman explained.
"I don't give a damn what he is. But you can't bring him in here!" Gunny snapped. "Either tie him up outside, or both of you can get the hell out!"
Suddenly, something jutted into his stomach. Surprised and breathless from the blow, he glanced down and went pale. Pressed into his large, soft belly was the barrel of a silver revolver.
"Mr. Corona," the woman murmured. Her mouth was close to his ear, and the feeling of her hot breath on him sent a shiver down his spine. "Yes, it is real. Earth made, I can't remember the name, but it's very old and very reliable."
Several people were now looking up from their slot machines and the few blackjack and poker tables situated around the edge of the casino. Gunny cursed himself. Prospero's was not nearly so large (or successful) that he could afford to have a good security force. Usually, he just looked after things himself, though there were two night guards that were currently supposed to be watching the security monitors. But considering that they weren't showing up with their own firearms drawn, he assumed they'd found something better to do. Growing angry at that thought, he swore he would fire them for their neglect of duties. Assuming the armed woman didn't kill him, of course.
"My name is Saxen Maverick, and I am a licensed bounty hunter. If you'd like to see my registration papers, I'd be glad to show them to you," the woman went on. "There is currently a targeted criminal that has been visiting your casino quite frequently. I merely intend to remove him. The wolf is my partner, and I'm hoping you'll be willing to make an exception to your policies regarding his presence. If not," her finger cocked the hammer back. "I'm afraid I'll have to make an exception to mine, particularly the one about making sure as little damage is done as possible, to both property and personnel."
Little drops of sweat ran down Gunny's forehead, but he was determined not to let Maverick intimidate him.
"Th-th-the papers. Please," he stammered, fear choking his words.
Maverick opened her coat and pulled out a small planner. Still pressing the gun into his gut, she pulled out two sheets of paper and handed them to him. He took them with a shaking hand. Sure enough, a bounty hunter. Although there had undoubtedly been criminal activities conducted in Prospero's, he had never had a bounty hunter. At least, not that he was aware of.
"T-t-terri-b-bly sorry, Miss Maverick. Had n-no id-d-d-dea. Of c-course the wo—I mean, your p-p-partner is welcome," Gunny took a few deep breaths and handed the papers back. To his relief, Maverick stowed both them and the gun in her coat.
"I knew you'd understand, Mr. Corona. Thank you for your cooperation," she replied, calm and cool as ever. Gunny glanced downward at the wolf. It was smiling triumphantly, at least he thought so.
"Please, Miss Maverick. Allow me to make up for my inconsideration with a few drinks, a meal, perhaps a few rounds of blackjack?" he offered.
"I don't drink, I don't gamble, and I don't eat on the job," she replied. "If you could, please inform your guests to stay calm and continue their activities as normal. I am going to try and keep low. If it should happen that there is a struggle, I will try to take it outside. And if that is impossible…well, you're aware of the phrase "hit the deck"?"
Gunny nodded.
"Use it well," Maverick warned, then inclined her head in the direction of the far slot row. The wolf stood up and followed her. Within a matter of minutes, they had disappeared between the machines and sounds of bells and curses. And that was the most unnerving of all.
The casino owner did not see either Maverick or her canine partner for nearly two hours. Then, a blue-skinned young man dressed in a gray business suit walked in. Gunny recognized him as a patron who had taken home nearly twelve thousand dollars the previous week in a game of blackjack. It had been his biggest loss all year. And so he didn't really mind when some subconscious entity told him that this was Maverick's target.
Sure enough, he saw her emerge and take the blue man aside. He saw her mouth move, but he couldn't quite make out what she was saying. The blue man's face wore a look of confusion which turned to fear as soon as Maverick drew not one, but two silver revolvers. Gunny could imagine her saying that the blue man should just come quietly, but by the look on his face, that was the last idea on his mind. Maverick sighed and cocked the hammers…
"HIT THE DECK!" Gunny screamed and dropped down. The other patrons looked around confused, then the guns went off. A woman screamed, and a shower of plaster from the ceiling wafted slowly downwards as everyone ran for the door. The blue man had knocked Maverick's arms upward and she had missed. But then again, she may have allowed that so that she could fire a warning.
The blue man broke for the door but was cut off suddenly.
"MOKSHA!" Maverick screamed.
Before her target could understand the call, the wolf answered and lunged at him, knocking him back. A knife slipped out of his sleeve, and the wolf just managed to roll away in time. The man got to his feet, but the delay had been enough; Maverick was now behind him. She pointed her guns and fired. Blood spattered everywhere and the man screamed as two holes became visible in each of his shoulder blades. He fell to his knees, then collapsed forward, a sickening gurgle emitting from his bloody mouth.
Maverick stood over him, still on guard in case he was faking. However, when she nudged him with her foot, she felt his dead weight. Each bullet had pierced a lung.
Gawking, Gunny climbed out from under the blackjack table and got to his feet. He moved a few feet behind the bounty hunter.
"Holy shit…" he murmured, staring wide-eyed at Maverick.
She shrugged. "The warrant did say dead or alive." She glanced back at him. "Mr. Corona, could you do me a favor? Please contact the authorities. That way they can get this mess cleaned up. You'll find that they will cover any damages done to your property."
"I…uh…" Gunny frowned. "They'd better."
Maverick rubbed Moksha's head, then smiled. "Another job well done. Thank you, my friend."
Moksha smiled back.