Xantoverse Shadowkill by T. F. Grant, C. F. Barnes Page A

whispered. “You keep stepping on my robe.” She hitched it up, wishing not for the first time she was a little taller as her robe, the smallest they could get, dragged on the floor.
    “Sorry, Ki, big feet. You know what they say? Big feet, big—”
    “Shoes, now get moving before you blow our cover.”
    The brown robes they wore itched wherever they touched. Made from thick solan hair, they were more a punishment than apparel. They’d bought them from a shady dealer up in the slums. Usually, the robes, and the obsidian black facemasks they were wearing, were only given to devout members of The Cult of Azam.
    Although the Cee-of-Ay, as they were known, weren’t necessarily protected on the station, they were left alone—mainly due to their horrific and unorthodox approach to worship. Cannibalism and blood ritual featured heavily in their mythos and worse: they would often follow this ritual through every generation of a family. Which of course meant they were left alone and not frecked with.
    This cover proved an ideal disguise for Kina and Tai, well-known personalities on the station, mostly due to Tai’s lineage as a Cauder, to travel about the station with the minimal of attention, even if they weren’t exactly inconspicuous.
    But then it was better to hide in plain sight on Haven .
    Trying to hide in the shadows only made you a target for anything which dwelled in the darkness.
    Kina pushed her way between a pair of Lawkeepers as she led Tai toward a booth at the end of Napier’s display hall.
    “Watch it!” One of them said. The two young men turned to glare at her and reached for their shock-sticks. Tai stepped forward beside Kina, and, as they had practiced earlier, they turned to face the Lawkeepers in unison and just stared at them, their arms by the sides.
    The Lawkeeper who had spoken took an involuntary step back and pulled his hand away from the shock-stick. His visibly shook with fear even though he was unable to break his gaze away from the terrible masks Tai and Kina wore. “I’m… sorry…. Please, go about your business,” he said. His friend nodded and stepped out of the way.
    Kina had to withhold a giggle as she and Tai inclined their heads once and moved on.
    Once beyond the Lawkeepers, Kina and Tai wove their way through the thinning crowd until they came to an unmarked steel door. While Tai worked on the lock, Kina faced the expo, blocking Tai from view.
    The hall buzzed with excitement. On the far right side, toward the rear, a leading Napier engineer stepped out onto a raised stage. He held a newly designed machine pistol in each hand. A banner unfolded behind him with pertinent stats on this new weapon.
    The crowd, who had previously surrounded the dozen or so display booths, swarmed as one toward the stage. The engineer encouraged them closer. His long white hair lay over his shoulders and covered his chest. Saul Gilmour—or Maximum Saul as he was known for his penchant of maximizing Napier’s gun capacities—performed a flawless gun kata on stage, spinning and swirling, handling the stealthy-looking machine pistols with the grace of a Wraith while music from a live band behind the banner beat out a percussive soundtrack.
    The effect ratcheted up the excitement within the crowd.
    “How you getting on, Tai?” Kina asked, tapping him on the back.
    “Another few seconds, hold your panties.”
    “Just get on with it.”
    While Tai continued to work on the lock, Maximum Saul fired off a volley of rounds above his head in a single crossing arc of his arms. The crowd, and Kina, looked up. A perfect arc of bullet holes followed white line painted on wooden target board.
    The drums and cymbals crashed to an end as Maximum Saul bowed to the crowd.
    Claps and impressed cheers went up, creating a reverberating din within the hall.
    She had to give Napier Industries credit—they really knew how to sell their weapons. Even she wanted to get her hands on the guns. Though she knew she’d