Book 2 in the Huntress series.
World Council Hunter, Cambria Petersen arrives on Nomad with an execution warrant for escaped serial killer and former lover, Excalibur Jones. First, though, she has to stop a war, save the Nomadians and illegal immigrant humans and then kill Jones. All before an alien tech implant destroys her. Should be simple for a Hunter... right?
Cambria Peterson winced as the door clanged shut behind her.
Raw, damp heat prickled over her skin and slick sweat bloomed on her forehead. She lifted a sleeve to wipe the moisture away and her left hand moved to unseal the calf-length coat. Before she could touch the tabs, cool air seeped through her clothes and she smiled wryly.
Built-in air-conditioning, just like Caparossi said. Excellent.
She stood in an alcove at the end of a garbage-littered alley. The stench of things rotting in the heat caught in the back of her throat. Streaks of greenish mud smeared the lower bright blue bricks of the buildings that rose above her.
Cambria blinked with astonishment. The pavement, what she could see under the grime, was a paler green than the mud.
She turned to the left as movement caught her eye. Bits of paper twitched in the light breeze. Under the scent of rot, she caught a salty tang. The waterfront must be close.
Cambria checked her wrist unit. Her icon blinked green. Another icon blinked blue in the centre of a two-dimensional city map.
Before she left, Major Caparossi made it clear that the first thing she did was check in with the local constabulary. They would be mightily pissed at a human running around fully armed, Hunting.
A courtesy between law enforcement agency, he’d said with a slight smile and a twinkle in his dark chocolate eyes.
The unit showed the route and she adjusted her pack. Her hands fiddled with the horizontal holsters at her back. Her guns were secure. She was as ready as she was going to get. A nervous breath gusted out of her and she braced her shoulders.
Cambria stepped into a broader alley and walked towards the opening. She checked her wrist unit. The door’s icon blinked red. Satisfied she could return to the exact spot, she strode through the garbage and detritus of the poorer part of town.
The tang of the sea grew stronger as she strode onto a concourse and she wrinkled her nose at the bite of brine.
Her jaw dropped and she stood still at the sights before her. Brightly coloured cargo vessels lined the dock.
Ships hoisted sails of blue and red, vied with those of orange and purple, fuchsia and puce. Hulls painted black, gold, bronze or lavender clashed with eye-searing intensity. Water craft of all sizes lined the wharf to her right for hundreds of metres. Equally eye-straining were the aliens – humanoid and others, too many and too quick for her to identify - who scrambled over the riggings or organized the loading of crates and goods, shouted commands, laughed, cursed in their native languages; blue-skinned, green-scaled, glistening yellow or red, multi-limbed, tailed...