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By Root 686 0

Butcher of Montellian Serat has five million credits on his horns. But Devaron is halfway across the galaxy, and there may only be a dozen sentients on all of Tatooine who even know for sure what species I belong to. (There are two other Devaronians onplanet, Oxbel and Jubal. I rather like Oxbel; we pretended to be brothers once, during a rather involved scam that didn’t work out the way we’d hoped. We don’t look anything alike—his ancestors evolved at the equator, mine toward the north pole—but the humans we were trying to cheat couldn’t tell the difference. I rather like Oxbel, but I don’t come close to trusting him. He’s been away from Devaron even longer than I have, and it’s entirely possible that even he hasn’t heard of the Butcher of Montellian Serat—but it’s best to be safe.

(There are downsides to being safe, though. The closest Devish woman is on the other side of the Core. Just the thought makes my horns ache.)

Most bounty hunters are lazy. If they weren’t, they’d be in another line of work.

And research is not their strong point.

I took the short way home.

A Reason for Living:

I keep a small underground apartment about twelve minutes’ brisk walk from the cantina. It’s been broken into twice since I’ve lived there. The first time I came back and found the deed done; the second time I surprised the burglar in the act. A young human. Turns out humans don’t taste very good.

The lights come on automatically as I unlock and let myself in. The door leads down a flight of stairs to a cold, sweaty basement that costs an indecent amount to cool. The heat-exchange coils turn on automatically when I enter; I know from long experience I won’t be able to sleep until they have been on for quite a while—and at that it will not be properly cold until I am done sleeping, and it’s time to turn them off.

There’s only one thing of value in the apartment; neither of my two thieves found it, fortunately. From the outer room you go into the sleeping cubicle, and from there into the bathroom. The sanitary facilities are human designed, but they suit me well enough. In the shower, you push back on the tiled wall, and it slides back enough to step through, sideways.

I step through and into a small eight-sided room. The walls are not perfect; they tend to reflect the higher frequencies and absorb the lower ones, so virtually everything ends up sounding brighter than it should. Some of that can be adjusted for; some of it I simply have to live with.

The wall behind me sighs shut. The room is already cool; it’s the first part of the apartment to be cooled.

Along the walls are the chips.

Some of them are unique, I’m sure. Priceless. Copies of recordings that are preserved by no one else in the galaxy. Some of them are merely rare and very expensive.

I have everyone. Or, to be precise, I have something by everyone. I have music the Imperium banned a generation ago … by musicians executed for singing the wrong lyric, in the wrong way, to the wrong person, by musicians who simply vanished, by musicians who had the good fortune to die before the Empire came to power.

Maxa Jandovar is here, and Orin Mersai, and Telindel and Saerlock, Lord Kavad and the Skaalite Orchestra, M’lar’Nkai’kambric, Janet Lalasha, and Miracle Meriko, who died in Imperial custody four days after I saw him play Stardance for the last time. The ancient masters, Kang and Lubrichs, Ovido Aishara, and the amazing Brullian Dyll.

I have two recordings by Fiery Figrin Da’n and the Modal Nodes. Da’n may be the greatest Klooist the galaxy has ever seen. As for Doikk Na’ts … there’s something about his playing that’s always struck me as cautious, careful … but sometimes, sometimes the fire comes, and he plays the Fizzz as well as Janet Lalasha ever did.

Most of their backup players could play lead, in a lesser band.

I settle down in the seat, set just off center for the room, where the sound comes together most cleanly, open a bottle of twelve-year-old Dorian Quill, and wait for the music to start.

My people believe that to kill something, you must cherish it and