Oh no.

“Enlarge.”

The screen grew to take up half the wall.

“…in violation of Article 3, Subsections 1 through 3, 7, 12, and 16 of the Earth Treaty,” Officer Marais said with methodical precision. “You’re endangering Earth’s neutral status by facilitating the discovery of outside civilizations and contributing to a breach of said Article which will result in a permanent ban of your species from this waypoint. Move along.”

The two Draziri made no effort to move.

A truck drove by, followed by a Ford Explorer. Nobody paid the scene any mind. The presence of a black and white was like magic - everyone concentrated on driving under the speed limit and punctuating their stops at the stop signs.

Officer Marais sighed and pulled a metal baton out. It snapped open in his hand, individual parts moving and sliding to reveal an inner core of golden light. I almost did a double take. The two Draziri froze.

“Disperse,” he ordered.

The hooded killers spun around and sped off down the sidewalk.

“Sean Evans?” I asked. “How did Officer Marais get his hands on a subatomic vaporizer?”

Sean smiled.

* * *

We slipped into the streets of Baha-char wrapped in two nondescript brown cloaks. The day had come to an end and a short Baha-char night was just around the corner. Lights ignited on the terraces, some golden, some white, others lavender and blue. Garlands of tiny lanterns traced the contours of the stalls and elaborate lamps marked the entrances to the shops, each lamp more odd than the last. The trading was still in full swing. Life at Baha-char never stopped.

We turned the corner and blended with the multicolored crocodile of shoppers crawling through the street.

“So. An errand, huh? You gave him a subatomic vaporizer.”

“He’s a cop. He enforces the law. He can’t enforce it if he’s hopelessly outgunned.”

“You gave him a weapon that can turn any living creature into a cloud of gas. Where did you even get a subatomic vaporizer?”

“I gave it to him because he won’t use it unless he absolutely has to.”

Nice how he ignored the question. “What if he gets confused and accidentally vaporizes his wife? Or himself?”

“How do you know he has a wife?”

“She has a knitting blog. I follow it. Stop ducking my questions. They have two kids. What if they find the vaporizer?”

“Marais knows how to store his weapons properly. I keyed the vaporizer to his DNA and his thumb print. It’s double locked. It’s almost impossible to accidentally discharge it. It operates on a telepathic link via an implant, so he would have to actively imagine someone blowing up for it to discharge. If one of his cop buddies finds it, they’ll think it’s just a novelty nightstick. A child can pick it up and whack baseballs with it all day and there is zero chance of it discharging.”

Sean put his hand on my elbow and sped up.

“Are we being followed?”

“Yes.”

“Draziri?”

“Yes.”

“Did you actually put an implant into Officer Marais?”

“Yes.”

“Sean!”

“It’s a two-millimeter organic implant. It’s in his scalp.”

“What if he has to undergo an MRI because he has a concussion?”

“It’s organic. It won’t show up. Stop being a negative Nancy.”

We wove through the crowd.

“I’m not a negative Nancy.”

“You’re just mad because I didn’t tell you about it.”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Oh baby, I do all sorts of things I don’t tell you about.”

Ass. “Is that so?”

“Yep.”

We were almost running now. Sean’s eyes flashed amber. A dark line of tattoos crawled up his neck under the skin, shielding vital points.

“I have to maintain an air of mystery. Chicks dig a man of mystery.”

“You don’t say.”

“You know what else chicks dig?”

“Subatomic vaporizers?”

“And werewolves. Chicks really dig werewolves.”

“Poor you, having to smack all of those chicks off with a flyswatter just to walk down the street.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” He glanced back, scanning the street. “I know it’s very difficult, Dina, but try to resist me. We’re being chased and all.”

“Are there a lot of Draziri chasing us?”

He nodded.

“How many?”

“Too many. We need to run now.”

We sprinted.

Ahead a single blue lantern illuminated the entrance to Wilmos’ shop.

We burst through the door and stopped.

The shop was full of werewolves. Grizzled, dressed in leather and dark clothes, they lounged in the chairs, drinking. A table to one side held baki, a wargame played on a large board with armies of glittering rocks. We’d run headfirst into a mercenary convention.

Sean moved in front of me on liquid joints.

“Is that him?” someone asked.

“Yes,” Wilmos said from the right, where he was leaning against the counter. “That’s him.”

The werewolves looked at Sean. Sean looked at the werewolves. Everyone seemed calm, like nothing important was happening.

“What do you need?” Wilmos asked.

“Transgate. I’m taking my girlfriend to the Sanctuary of Eno.”