This is a fan translation of Agent of the Star Corps (Агент Звёздного корпуса) by the Russian science fiction author Leonid Kudryavtsev.

I claim no rights to the contents herein.

Note: I've decided to capitalize the word "Human" because I don't like the fact that English science fiction writers seem to make an exception for humans in terms of capitalization when it comes to naming intelligent species. The other option was to take the example of Mass Effect and keep all the species' names in lowercase.

Chapter 1

After making sure the hallway was empty, Michael Brado grabbed the door handle and then froze.

What was that? No, not even a smell, more like a trace of something burning. An ordinary Human wouldn't have been able to smell it. But Michael wasn't an entirely ordinary Human.

It's probably a beamer with a special attachment, he thought. Definitely not a blaster. I wouldn't have been able to breathe in here after a blaster shot.

Michael carefully entered the room and shut the door behind him. Taking a step to the side, he pressed his back against the wall and, glancing at the bed, swore.

A luxurious king-size bed with a canopy that was definitely out of place in this seedy hotel. Someone had probably gotten it from a bankrupt brothel. A Betulian was lying on it with his thin jointed limbs splayed out, making him look a lot like a bug that had been stepped on. A large hole with melted edges gaped in his chest carapace. A puddle of blue blood had flown out of from his mouth opening.

Michael swept the room with his gaze.

Right. No signs of struggle. Someone had simply thrown open the door, shot the Betulian with a beamer, and disappeared. A second or two, no more, and the task was done.

A clean and tidy job, Brado thought. The work of a professional. But why was Haka caught off guard? He should've heard the door being broken down and shot first. Why didn't he defend himself? Strange, very strange.

The Betulian had been his partner for the past two years, and Michael knew of his excellent reaction time.

Then again, there was no time to think about that now. A sixth sense was telling Brado that he needed to act.

Haka was dead. Maybe that meant that someone from among those with whom Michael had been playing a quiet, almost unnoticeable game of chess for over a year had gotten nervous. And they hadn't gained much by killing Haka. They'd probably even lost a little.

Now the Ragnites would have to deal with him. And he knew that the hunt was on, which meant that he was on guard and ready to do anything to survive.

Why didn't they intercept me before I got back to Abausa? Michael thought. Couldn't or didn't want to?

It was important. Two weeks ago, when leaving Abausa, he'd made use of all the tricks to escape surveillance. As it turned out, it had been for naught. The trip had been fruitless. Maybe the Ragnites got nervous precisely because he'd disappeared. Had that been why they killed Haka?

No, something doesn't add up, Michael thought. Sure, they got nervous after losing me. But why kill the Betulian? What did that give them? Nothing. I'm certain Haka was eliminated for a different reason. Something very important had to have happened on Abausa while I was gone. The Ragnites know about it, and I don't. Until I figure out the situation, my chances of getting out of this story are nil. The prospects are not great. Any chess player with such low odds of winning would simply offer to play another game. I don't have that option. My life is at stake in this game. No one's going to give me another one.

He thought that there could also be another possibility. The Ragnites might have kicked off a complicated gambit, with the killing of the Betulian being the first move. Now they were waiting to see what he would do. Try to leave the planet? Panic and run around, revealing his connections, agents, and information channels? Lay low?

Laying low would be the best option right now. To hide out in one of the prepared safehouses and, a few weeks later, try to figure out what was going on. That was the safest option. Except in a few weeks the Ragnites would be two or three moves ahead instead of just one. And then winning would be nearly impossible.

Over the two weeks he'd been gone, Haka might have run across something so important, so serious that the Ragnites had decided to get rid of him immediately. In that case, they needed to kill him, Michael Brado, as well, and do it as quickly as possible, before he figured something out and informed Earth.

Sure, other agents of the Star Corps would arrive to replace him and the Betulian, but a lot of time would pass while they figured out what was happening in this godforsaken part of the galaxy. Probably another year. Even a dozen agents could be eliminated to gain such an advantage.

He had to think about it all. But later. Michael could feel it in his gut that he had to leave the hotel as soon as possible. The first thing that needed to be done was escape the coming blow and only then try to figure out the situation and counterattack.

He threw another look around the room and sniffed.

Yep, definitely a beamer with a special attachment. As a rule, it was the weapon of a hitman. That meant that the Ragnites had used hired help. No surprise there.

But the other smells…

Michael swore.

No, of course the hotel was full of all manner of smells. And since it was far from one of the best (or even decent), the smells were by and large unpleasant. The only smell was missing was that of the killer.

He spent another second to filter out the smells that preceded the shot. No, it seemed that the hired gun of the Ragnites hadn't left even a tiniest odor behind. As if they'd been a shadow.

Interesting, very interesting.

Michael returned to the door and listened.

It was quiet in the hallway. The right moment to leave. The Ragnites were probably already aware of his return. Which meant the hunt had begun. The Ragnites knew perfectly well that the sooner they eliminated him, the less noise this entire story is going to raise.

He shouldn't have even made it to the hotel. And yet he had. Why? Maybe he really had managed to escape surveillance, leaving the Ragnites unable to figure out when he'd be back.

The smartest thing to do would be to stop by his room, grab a few things, and leave the hotel as soon as possible. But Michael didn't rush to leave Haka's room.

He walked up to the bed again. A short nightstand stood by the bed with a fist-sized sky turtle figurine carved from an agate-like stone lying on it. It was something like a talisman, and Haka had never gone anywhere without it.

The killer acted very quickly, Michael thought. That meant he didn't have time to search the room. And it's not something a hitman generally does. They shoot, they don't rifle through their victims' belongings. And if the Betulian really had learned something important…

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wrapped it around his hand, and picked up the figure of the sky turtle.

An almost square-shaped tree leaf with a steel sheen lay under it. Picking it up, Michael felt its firmness and weight, as if the leaf really had been made by some artisan from thin sheet metal.

Then again, the leaf definitely had natural origins. Michael could easily make out the thin branching veins crossing it and fibers that looked like a fine mesh.

All right, it was a leaf… What tree had it been removed from? Why had Haka placed it under the sky turtle figurine? What was so valuable about it? Had the Betulian really happened upon something important? Was Michael holding the clue to his partner's death in his hand?

It was entirely possible.

Michael knew how carefully the Betulian had treated the sky turtle figurine. Always placing it by his bed, dusting it almost daily. Brado had seen his partner talk to his talisman, as if asking for its advice, several times. And now he'd hidden an ordinary tree leaf under the figurine. Why? Couldn't find another place? Or had Haka assumed he might be killed? In that case, he had to find a way to inform Michael of what he'd discovered. Maybe the leaf was that message.

Putting the leaf into his pocket, Michael took a step towards the door, but then another thought made him pause.

There was another explanation why they hadn't tried to kill him yet, why he'd managed to return to the hotel without any complications.

The Ragnites might have assumed that, after learning some important information, Haka would make sure that I got my hands on it even if they eliminated him. Or the one who comes to the planet after I'm killed, he thought. They probably want to know how I'm going to get the Betulian's message. If this leaf is indeed that message, then the hunt for me has begun from the moment I found it. By the way, in order to know for certain that I got Haka's message, the Ragnites had to have…

He looked up and examined the room's ceiling. Nothing, except for old cobwebs that likely hadn't been removed in years.

Then again…

An air purifier was installed on the ceiling. Naturally, it hadn't worked since times immemorial. Maybe even broke immediately after being installed. At least that was what the layer of dust on it seemed to suggest.

There!

A thin stalk that ended in a tiny camera was sticking out from around the gray cube of the device.

That made sense. The hitman hired by the Ragnites had killed the Betulian and then left behind a cyberbug in the room before leaving. All he'd need to do was attach it to the wall by the door. The rest would be done by the cyberbug's operator.

Michael pictured the tiny surveillance device crawling up the wall, following the operator's commands and moving its tiny legs, finding the best spot for observation, getting there, and extending the camera stalk.

It seems the Ragnites know I'm in the room, Michael thought. Moreover, they've seen my every move and how I found the tree leaf. If it is the message they were afraid of, they're going to act.

He chuckled.

If only the Ragnites could've known the simplicity of the method the Betulian had used to pass important information to him. The cyberbug's operator was probably cursing up a storm right about now.

Unless, of course, Michael was mistaken, and the tree leaf wasn't actually meaningless. Then again, Brado's sixth sense was telling him that the leaf was exactly what the Ragnites were hoping to get. And he was used to trusting it.

Time to go, Michael thought. Every second counts.

Returning to the bed with Haka's body, he bowed his head and spent several moments to say say goodbye to his murdered friend.

There was no more time. It seemed that someone else would have to handle the arrangements for his partner's funeral. In fact, there was a significant possibility that this someone would also have to handle the arrangements for someone other than the Betulian. Even if the Ragnites managed to chase Michael into a corner, he'd make sure he took a few of them with him into the grave.

Then again, Brado hadn't yet lost his faith in luck.

He came out into the hallway and made sure it was still empty. It made sense. Most likely, the Ragnites had set up an ambush near the hotel. There was no reason to attract the attention of the centurions.

Abausa might be a fairly backwards agrarian planet, its law enforcement officers were professionals. Perhaps it was a consequence of the large interstellar bloodbath that had been raging across the galaxy for the last five years barely touching it.

Just like the several dozen planets around it, Abausa wasn't taking part in the fighting. Similar to Earth's Switzerland, it maintained neutrality in the struggle between Humans and Ragnits.

Moving confidently towards the exit, Michael thought somewhat detachedly that it wouldn't just be Ragnits pursuing him, it would be centurians too. After all, it was his partner that had been killed. The law enforcement officers would definitely want to ask him a few questions about the dead Betulian.

But first he'd have to escape the Ragnites, and it wasn't going to be easy.

Since Abausa, like most agrarian planets, had only one large city, hiding on it seemed to be an easy task at first glance. But only at first glance. Especially for a Human.

If he showed his face in one of the farming settlements on the planet, centurions would learn of it right away. And then the Ragnites would as well. They had to have penetrated the law enforcement information system.

As such, the only place where he could hide was the city. And since it was the only city on the planet, it didn't need any name other than "the city."

First things first, Michael thought. I need to get out of the hotel. The rest can wait.

The hotel was at least forty years old. Back then, elevators had been an unimaginable luxury on the planet. Naturally, the owner of the hotel under construction had decided to save some money and skipped that particular luxury. A decade later, after elevators became more commonplace, it turned out that installing one would require seriously rebuilding the structure. Since the owner was still the same, and his ideas on saving money hadn't changed, there was still no elevator in the hotel.

Its absence was inconvenient to the hotel workers responsible for bringing bags to the rooms and to older occupants. That was why the elderly were typically put up on the first and second floors.

Living on Earth is nice, Michael thought automatically. Cybercleaners, high-speed elevators, robotic maids, and other amenities… No, this is just an ordinary run-down planet with no luxuries in sight. For now. Sooner or later, all these useful things will come here too. But when?

But, at that particular moment, the absence of the elevator suited him just fine.

Haka's room was on the third floor. Had there been an elevator at the hotel, the Ragnites might have chanced setting up an ambush near it as well, just in case the Human felt safe enough to use it.

All a killer would need to do was wait by the elevator and put a laser beam through Michael the moment the doors opened. He'd have the element of surprise.

But since there was no elevator anyway, Brado came down to the first floor without an incident. He only ran into a pair of maids and an old farmer, traditionally dressed in pants of a thick fabric, a checkered shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat. His face was, as expected, tanned, covered in deep wrinkles, and indifferent and tired eyes that were twice as large as those of a human.

He didn't look like a hired gun of the Ragnites in the least. Just an ordinary farmer, who'd come to the city on business.

Finding himself on the first floor, Michael headed for the exit. He walked past a low barrier with a receptionist dressed in a suit standing behind it.

"Are you leaving already?" he asked. Michael walked up to the barrier and, doing his best to remain confident, replied, "Yes, I need to go. By the way, I knocked on the door of my Betulian friend. No one answered. Looks like he stepped out. Could he have gone to a nearby bar?"

"It's possible," a professional smile appeared on the receptionist's face.

Michael was about to step away from the barrier, but then turned and asked, "Could Haka have left the planet for a few days?"

"Unlikely. I think he would've informed the hotel staff. He did fly somewhere last week, though."

"Where?"

The receptionist thought for a moment, then answered, "To Fostera, I think. I know that because I ordered a ticket for the flight to that planet at his request. But he wasn't gone long. Only a few days."

"Ah," Michael said thoughtfully. "All right, thank you. Good luck."

"You as well," the receptionist said and smiled again.

Smiling in turn, Brado thought that this young man would have to deal with a lot of problems soon. As soon as the body was discovered, the hotel would be packed with centurions. The receptionist would have to answer questions, maybe even psychoprobed to determined Michael's exact appearance. And then…

In only a few hours, every centurion on the planet would be his potential enemy. Yes, he could stay and try to prove that he couldn't have killed his friend, but that would take far too long. And the Ragnites would've anticipated such a possibility anyway. They likely had their own people in law enforcement. By surrendering to the centurions, Brado risked spending a long time in a local prison or, even worse, being killed "while attempting escape."

They also had to have anticipated that I'm going to try to leave the planet, Michael thought, heading for the exit. And have likely taken measures to make it difficult. Maybe by cordoning off Abausa's only spaceport. Can they do that? Probably. All they'd need is…

A soft chair was standing a few paces away from the hotel's front door. A man was sitting it. Based on his elongated face and protruding brow ridges, he was from a planet called Magnus. At the moment when Michael was passing him by, the man casually placed his holonewspaper on the armrest and rose. Something like a green aura appeared around him for just a moment.

Thinking absentmindedly that suits generating such an aura were probably in fashion on Magnus, Michael took two steps, grabbed the door handle…

And then he got it.

What fashion?! It was a phantom suit!

Brado had gotten ridiculously lucky. A phantom suit protected the wearer from firearms and lasers, allowed them to leave virtually no trace, and was also invisible. Almost invisible. A number of factors like lighting and angle of observation had to come together just right to notice the aura it emitted.

The door opened. Michael only needed to take a single step to go outside. Instead, he suddenly crouched and, rotating on his right leg, kicked his left upward. His shoe struck the abdomen of the Magnusian following him.

The hitman of the Ragnits, and Brado no longer had any doubt that it was him, hadn't expected it and flew back to the wall. Straightening quickly, Michael leapt towards him and punched him in the jaw.

Still, man opposing the Star Corps agent was a true professional. Despite receiving two such powerful blows, he remained standing.

Straightening, the Magnusian made a quick gesture with his right hand, and a beamer appeared in it. He was a fraction of a second too late. Before the weapon aimed at Michael's chest, he was able to strike the killer in the throat with the edge of his hand.

The blow was precise. Rolling his eyes back, the Magnusian wheezed and started to slump to the floor. Grabbing his beamer, Michael turned to the barrier with the receptionist.

Just in time.

The young man was reaching out his hand to the button that would summon hotel security.

"Don't," Michael said, aiming the beamer at him. "It's all over. At least for now."

"I see. Then I won't."

The receptionist pulled his hand back and even retreated from the barrier. His face took on the color of whipped cream.

"Good," Brado approved. "Smart kid. If you keep it up, you might live to old age."

He pointed at the Magnusian with the beamer and asked, "How long has he been here?"

"Two minutes," the receptionist replied.

"I see. Did he come here before?"

"Yesterday. Went up to the third floor. A friend of his, also a Magnusian, is staying there."

Michael nodded.

He hadn't been mistaken. It was this guy who'd shot Haka. Too bad he didn't have time to return the favor.

"Centurions are going to show up in about five minutes. Remember to mention that to them."

Then Michael slipped outside.

The first thing he saw outside the hotel was an aircar that had just landed near it with Magnusians armed with blasters coming out of it.

As usual, Ragnits prefer to use hired help, Brado thought again and started running.

The Magnusians opened fire. The people on the street scattered. A flaming beam caught one of them on the shoulder, and he screamed and dropped onto the road like a bowling pin.

Dodging, Michael was running away from the hotel. Several times, deadly beams passed so close to him that they nearly singed the Human's back.

Knowing that it wasn't a good idea to keep tempting fate, Brado passed a few more buildings and then dove into a store. As it turned out, it sold farming goods.

The tall salesgirl in pants made of thick fabric and an almost transparent t-shirt saw the beamer in his hand and asked in shock, "What do you want?"

"Get out!" Brado shouted. "It's about to get very hot in here."

He ran deeper into the store. Moments later, a shot from a beamer struck the store's bioglass door, and it shattered.

The store was large, filled with racks of goods that included miniature soil tilling machines, artificial climate generators, as well as sacks of seeds and fertilizer. Hiding behind the nearest rack, Michael examined his beamer and saw that it was fully functional. The indicator told him that only a single shot had been fired.

Yeah, Brado thought. This was the weapon used to kill Haka. Also, where did that guy in a suit put the attachment? Doesn't matter now. But I should've killed the Magnusian. Sure, he was only following orders. But… Eye for an eye, and all that.

Peering out from around the rack, the Star Corps agent was able to see the salesgirl bend down, pick up one of the door shards from the floor, and examine it carefully.

"Get out!" Michael shouted. "Leave! Or you're going to get yourself shot!"

The salesgirl's eyes widened in understanding. Screeching, she ran deeper into the store towards the door marked "Employees Only" and ran through it.

Michael sighed with relief.

When he'd run into the store, there were no customers in it. The salesgirl was hiding somewhere in the service area. If there was an exit from there to another street, then she was far away by now. So there was no one to get in his way. Besides, he really didn't want any of the locals to get hurt in the shootout.

He once again hid behind the rack.

Well then, mercenaries of the Ragnits, come here. I'm waiting. It's going to be a warm reception. It's time for you to learn that the hunter can sometimes become the hunted.