Silence (5 page)

The man squared his shoulders, making
an obvious effort to stop shaking. He tore his eyes from the
dancing blade.

“
I was
informed that you, Mr. Namar, are something of a… go-between?
Between prospective clients and the… assassin…” his voice cracked
and dropped to a whisper, “
Silence
?”  

Sheikoh eyed the man
critically, debating internally whether or not to hear him
out.
Assassin?
He
didn’t like that word.

Sheikoh’s practiced eyes glanced over
dude’s wardrobe, but he’d known from the first glance that this guy
was swimming. His gray-hair was gelled back and spritzed with a
subtle tang of cologne. The blue shirt he was wearing looked like
genuine silk.

And, up close, he made out
the indent in the dude’s pocket. Monocles were the expensive
fashion nowadays. Cellpads like his Trinity had
been replaced in a commercial sense. Earpieces with tiny
lenses extending over an eye. To Sheikoh, they sort of looked like
half a pair of colored sunglasses duck taped to an ear. They
weren’t the monocles dignified, old scholars used to wear; the name
had evolved to include the long-distance conversation TV that was
connected to the internet.

Most importantly, even with the
cut-down price offered for stolen goods, a monocle would still toss
a year’s worth of rent into Sheikoh’s safe. If this job offer
wasn’t his kind of thing, he could always make do with a different
sort of payout. His electroblade twisted between his fingers in an
unconscious, graceful dance as Sheikoh went through it all,
weighing distaste against dollar signs. Sheikoh abruptly decided he
might as well hear the man out.

“
Follow me,” Sheikoh
ordered, majestically sweeping out Primelight’s double
doors.

The man followed behind
him.
Sheikoh walked down the street a ways
and then turned into a deserted alley. He turned and leaned against
a dark wall, still tossing and catching the electroblade with
precise inattention. The fan-like arc of the blade spinning through
the air and falling into his hand had seemingly hypnotized the
well-dressed man. The dude watched him without blinking.

Sheikoh’s right hand blurred in front
of his face. Midair, he slid an impossibly fast index finger
through the circle at the end of the electroblade’s handle. The
knife spun a few times then fell back pointing downward, swinging
slightly; identifying the path of a corpse. Sheikoh leaned into a
long afternoon shadow and stared at the client.

The man swallowed back his
fear.

“
So,
Mr.
Prospective
Client
,” Sheikoh whispered. “To what do I
owe the pleasure?”

He adopted the sinister tone he
imagined a criminal mastermind would speak in. Cold and precise. He
didn’t like it. His words fell stiff and uncomfortable, and his
mind suddenly flashed with the memory of Emili berating him for
bragging about what he’d accomplished as Silence. Sheikoh’s heart
throbbed with pain. He shook the thought from his head and opened
his mouth, trying to drown the thought.

“
By the way, Tie-Guy what’s
your name?”  Sheikoh asked quickly. “You sort of look like
a... Gerald?”

“
My name
is irrelevant, it is imperative that...
the silence...
receives my audience
immediately,” the dude whispered meaningfully.

“
Well I promise I’ll tell
him you called,” Sheikoh laughed.

A family edged around them, heads down
and eyes facing forward. They'd probably noticed the blade in his
hand.

“
I have nothing to say
here,” the dude answered firmly.

Sheikoh’s teeth gritted together. This
guy wasn’t very clued in. Dorothi's anxious face lit his thoughts.
She didn’t deserve to stress over a prick like this. Energy flared
in his shoulder, and it was like something surged through him.
Sheikoh’s hand, the one holding the electroblade burred
forward.

The man gasped at the explosion of
pain in his chest. He stumbled backwards and then crumpled onto the
dirty ground. He’d never let the humming electroblade out of his
peripheral, he’d seen it blur, and now his horrified eyes were
searching Sheikoh’s, searching for an answer to the only question
that’d ever mattered; what had he done to deserve this?

Sheikoh couldn’t help but
roll his eyes. Judging from this dude’s martyred expression and
melodramatic performance, the joker thought that he'd stabbed him
or whatever. Sheikoh had barely tapped him. True, it’d been a
perfect shot to the solar plexus, but
really
? How pampered did you have to
be to think that little bump had ripped a hole into your body? This
guy didn’t know the feel of raw pain. He didn’t know the first
thing about life.  

Still, it had been slightly uncool of
him.

Sheikoh leaned over the man and
offered a hand up. At the very least, he was pretty sure that this
dude wasn’t in it to kill him or whatever. When you intend to kill
someone and you don’t know how to fight, you don’t just walk up to
your target. Human nature makes itself pretty clear on that
point.

The client stared up at Sheikoh’s
hand, his expression incredulous. Killed for the crime of being
impolite?

“
Seriously, you have got to
learn how to treat people the way you want to be treated,” Sheikoh
lectured him patiently.

“
Respect..?” the man coughed. “What does... respect have to do
with
anything
? You just stabbed... me.”

“
You’re gonna be fine,
Trooper. I just nailed you with the hilt. You aren’t bleeding,
unless…” Sheikoh trailed off worriedly. He glanced at his
electroblade and his eyes widened with shock. The man watched on in
silent horror.

“
I’m so sorry… I didn’t
think...” Sheikoh murmured looking to the side. “I… I never meant
to lie, but there’s a chance…”

Sheikoh bit his lip.

“
The
thing is, when said that you aren’t bleeding, I meant just
from
me
.
If you were already bleeding, I wasn’t able to heal those,” Sheikoh
explained in a sincere voice. “I am so
so
sorry for decepting
you…”

The man looked down at his chest
bemused, and then up at Sheikoh. His eyes flared with anger and
indignation.

“
I never meant to lie to
you, mate,” Sheikoh went on. “So here’s the truth;

Sheikoh looked deeply into the man’s
hard eyes for a moment.

“
I love you.”

That hung there for a second. Then
Sheikoh burst into giggles. He shoved a fist into his mouth,
hugging his chest. The man’s face went bright red.  Sheikoh
couldn’t tell whether from anger or embarrassment. He snorted and
then gasped with wild laughter, falling back against the brick
wall.

From the corner of his eye,
Sheikoh noticed a movement.
An instant
later, both electroblade and plasma pistol were pressed against the
man’s chest. The echoes of Sheikoh’s laughter had already given way
before the pounding of adrenaline-shocked heartbeats. He leaned
forward, his nose brushing against the dude’s, and tightened his
grip on the pistol’s hilt.

“
Hands up. Slowly. Let’s
see whatever’s in your pocket,” Sheikoh whispered
coldly.

The man searched his face
for any hint of joke. There was none. This time Sheikoh was
completely serious.
His hands lifted into
the air. The dude held what looked like a silver credit card
between two fingers. Sheikoh snatched it from him, quickly glancing
over it.

The eagle sigil, symbol of the Skyrei
region, the mark of the Intrasentient Empire as well, and…
Sheikoh’s eyes widened. He looked over at the man, this helpless
east sider, and back down at the plastic card. There had to be some
mistake. This couldn't be for real. There was no way...

On the bottom right corner was the
unmistakable imperial sigil of Skyrei region’s Arch Centaurai,
Cylium Vest. There was no doubt; no sane person forged an Arch
Centaurai’s personal sigil, and Dekla didn’t look crazy. Maybe a
little by-the-books or pretentious, but his eyes didn’t have that
insane gleam. And you had to be insane to forge an Arch Centaurai’s
sigil. There were a few punishments worse than death. And if you
got convicted of treason, you were facing them all.
  

Sheikoh had thus far evaded the long
arm of the law, but only because he was too small-time for the
empire to take any notice. Had that changed? Sheikoh scanned the
name on the card: Dekla Tor. He glanced back up at Dekla, eyeing
the Arch Centaurai’s ensign with some apprehension. He was
practically face-to-face with law. Dekla’s expression had arranged
itself into smugness and arrogance in equal measures.

Sheikoh’s face broke into an
apologetic smile. Just like he always practiced.

“
I’m sorry about the cheap
shot,” Sheikoh told Dekla, widening his eyes with sincerity. “Maybe
I could learn a few things about respect too.”

He smiled tentatively at Dekla, a
television perfect gesture. But the messenger’s icy expression
didn’t melt in the slightest. It didn’t look like friendliness was
going to get Sheikoh very far. Sheikoh pushed his bangs out of his
face and subtly moved the conversation towards reasons not to
arrest him.

“
Uh,
okay. Three things about, “
the
silence
,” mate,” Sheikoh said, slightly
sarcastically. He lifted a finger. “Number one. He’s not going to
call you master or sir or my lord or whatever. Maybe Tech
Dek..?”

Sheikoh raised another
finger.

“
Silence isn’t an
assassin... He’s more like… He’s a thief with an open mind when it
comes to the ownership of life. Kinda like Robin Hood, feel?”
Sheikoh explained, eyes turned inward. He screwed up his face,
trying to find words for his thoughts.

Dekla watched him with narrowed
eyes.

“
What I’m saying is if
this,” Sheikoh told Dekla. “If this thing is political, if you’re
after your boss’s job or something, just walk away now. Silence is
a hard-headed idiot. He won’t hit someone that he doesn’t think
deserves it.”

Sheikoh raised his eyebrows
meaningfully. Dekla didn’t walk away, so he shrugged and lifted
finger number three.

“
I’m waiting,” Dekla
muttered sarcastically.

He made a quick motion, gesturing for
Sheikoh to continue.

Sheikoh felt a flash of annoyance, but
pushed it aside. He was sure that once Dekla knew who Silence was,
the dude would make it up to him. He took a deep breath. He didn’t
want his voice to crack for this. This was going to be
good.

“
Clients and customers
usually call me Silence,” Sheikoh finished dramatically. He bowed,
watching Dekla with an expectant smile.

“
I know that you’re
Silence,” Dekla told Sheikoh in a shaky, patronizing voice. “The
Century have had you in their database for almost two years now.
You know that, up until now, we’ve been surrounded by people? It
seems that I was mistaken in believing that you preferred your
identity remain discreet.”

Sheikoh’s smile slid off like
raindrops down a window. That was nowhere near the fun reaction he
had been hoping for. His fingers found the comforting hilt of his
pistol. Hilarious to ominous, all in a single statement.

“
The Century database..?”
Sheikoh repeated softly. “You’re with the Century…”

“
Between the knife you were
tossing around and your unprovoked assault on me... I’m sure that
you understand exactly how little threat I pose to you,” Dekla
muttered back resentfully.

Sheikoh shook his hair
guiltily. He could almost hear Dorothi berating him.
He opened his mouth to apologize, but Dekla
didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“
I was sent to recruit your
services for a paramount mission,” Dekla explained with distaste.
“Interium is in peril, and the Century are unable to do anything
about it. The empire needs your… assistance.”

Dekla reached into his jacket pocket
again, and Sheikoh tensed up.

“
You are not in any
danger,” Dekla snapped impatiently, pulling out a manila envelope.
He held it out. Sheikoh made no move to take it.

“
For your up-front
cooperation, you’ll receive four thousand glow,” Dekla sighed,
letting his hand fall to his side. Sheikoh’s eyes widened; he’d
never been offered any sort of deal like this. “And, as much as it
pains me to reward criminals, I was informed that, should you
succeed, you’ll spend the rest of your life rich.”

Rich. Sheikoh rolled the word around
his head. He couldn’t say he’d mind crossing that off of his bucket
list.

But he still didn’t like
this. Something about it felt
off
. He didn’t trust Dekla
or
his big, bad
Centaurai boyfriend.

“
Your Centaurai happen to
mention exactly how long he expects the rest of my life to last?”
Sheikoh asked Dekla after a moment. “I’d put all of that ‘rich’ you
just offered me on… up until I finished this thing.”