The Karma Moor, 6.9km outside Xing Hong, Hellas Basin
Six of them.
Sigrun counted the Bone Fiends as they picked through the wreckage of the abandoned supply depot, their pale bodies moving with that distinctive jerking gait. Smaller than their Jupiter cousins—only the size of German Shepherds instead of grown wolves—but Mars's lower gravity made them faster. More erratic.
She crouched behind a collapsed cargo container, watching as her half-up ponytail billowed. The Martian wind carried smell of rust and rot. The Fiends were focused on something in the depot's center, probably a corpse from the last caravan that tried this route.
Her Nucleus Watch updated quietly:
[Target Identified: Bone Fiend × 6]
[Bounty Value: $120 AD total]
[Current Status: Solo Operation]
Eleven years on Mars, and the trusty gadget still worked like the day Ivar had fastened it on her left wrist.
She expanded Skuld from its brick configuration with practiced ease, the white shotgun unfolding with satisfying mechanical clicks.
[+Weapon switched: Skuld, Breacher Shotgun, unregistered variant (Manufacturer: Terra Alliance)]
The modifications gleamed in the thin sunlight: extended barrel, tightened spread pattern, and the golden filigree the weaponsmith added to show his appreciation for her.
And appreciation usually meant something intimate on this planet.
She brought the shotgun to her shoulder.
Twenty-three meters. Well within the new effective range.
The first Fiend never knew what hit it.
The Breacher's shot echoed across the Moor as the creature's skull exploded in a spray of black fluid. The other five scattered immediately—pack instincts kicking in—but Sigrun was already tracking the second.
Lead the target. Account for recoil. Breathe.
The second shot caught a Fiend mid-leap. It tumbled, legs still twitching.
Four left. They'd learned now, zigzagging as they closed the distance. Smart enough to make themselves harder targets.
She dropped Skuld on its sling and reached for Járn.
[+Weapon switched: Járn, Thermal Axe, one-handed, Nordling variant (Manufacturer: Imperium. Warranty unavailable)]
The one-handed Thermal Axe came from inside her beige trench coat with familiar weight. Damascus steel rippled along its blade, gold inlay tracing Norse knotwork. She triggered the thermal core—
Whump.
The blades ignited with that distinctive sound, edges glowing quantum-blue. Heat washed over her face as she stepped out from cover.
"Come bite me!"
The nearest Fiend obliged, launching itself at her throat.
Sigrun pivoted, letting it pass through the space where she'd been standing. Járn came around in a tight arc that would've made Ivar proud. The thermal edge met exoskeleton and—
The Fiend separated into cauterized halves that hit the ground smoking.
Two more rushed her together. Same pack tactics. She'd learned that too.
She dropped low, letting the first sail overhead while Járn caught the second's legs. The creature crashed hard, and she drove the axe down through its spine before it could recover. The thermal blade punched through bone with almost no resistance.
The one that had jumped over her landed, spun—
Sigrun was already moving, muscle memory in her dodge. But this one was faster than she'd calculated. Claws raked through her coat and the deep navy turtleneck beneath, sharp pain across her ribs as she twisted, and pain exploded white-hot through her left side.
"Fuck!"
She staggered, Járn clenched in her fist instinctively. The Fiend pressed its advantage, jaw opening to show those needle teeth—
"Frost, bylgja!"
The Lunar spell came out ragged, her recent conditions making the pronunciation sloppy. But the J?turmál words still worked. Ice crystallized from her palm, catching the Fiend mid-lunge.
"Dritt. My spells just aren't what they used to be…"
It hit the ground frozen, momentum carrying it past her in a skating tumble.
"The old fashioned way, then." She paced towards the creature, her Thermal Axe raised.
Járn came down on the Fiend's neck before it could thaw.
One left. But that was not the worst.
"Dritt!" Sigrun straightened, pressing her free hand against her ribs. "Left my Medi-Vap in the apartment…"
Blood seeped through her turtleneck—ballistic weave or not. Fiend claws were sharp. And her memories had really been failing her lately.
Her breathing hitched with each inhale. Broken ribs, maybe. Internal damage, definitely.
The last Fiend circled her at distance, intelligent enough to recognize the odds had shifted. Its red eyes tracked her movements, looking for weakness.
She didn't give it time to find any.
Járn went back to her belt. Skuld came up in one smooth motion, braced against her hip despite the screaming pain in her side. The Fiend saw the threat and bolted—
Too late.
The final shot caught it center mass, and it went down hard.
[Confirmed Kills: 6] [Mission Complete: +$150 AD] [Warning: Moderate injuries detected. Seek medical attention.]
Sigrun lowered the shotgun, letting it hang on its sling as she surveyed the carnage. Six Bone Fiends, two minutes of work. Not bad. Not great, either—that last one had gotten through her guard. Eleven years ago she would've been faster. Smarter.
But eleven years ago she'd have been dead against six Fiends working together.
She moved through the bodies methodically, her Nucleus Watch scanning each corpse to register the kills with the bounty system. Official confirmation took a few seconds per body—quantum verification to prevent fraud—while her ribs screamed protest with every movement.
The pain was getting worse. Adrenaline fading, reality setting in.
[CAUTION - Moderate Laceration + Internal Bleeding detected] [Recommendation: Immediate medical intervention required]
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
"Yeah, yeah." She collapsed Skuld back into its brick form, securing it at the small of her back. Járn's thermal core powered down with a soft hiss, the blades cooling from cherry-red to Damascus steel again.
The autocab she'd called before engaging arrived, its hydrogen engine humming across the Moor's flat expanse. She climbed in carefully, every movement sending fresh spikes of agony through her torso.
"Welcome, Subscriber #6969. Destination?" the cab's VI asked.
"Clinic Chakraborty. Eagle District." She leaned back in the seat, trying to find a position that didn't make her want to scream. "Fast route."
"Confirmed. ETA: 23 minutes."
Twenty-three minutes. She could last that long.
Sigrun watched the Karma Moor slide past the window—rust-red wasteland dotted with the skeletal remains of failed settlements. Eleven years, and Mars still looked like a graveyard. Maybe because it was.
Her watch pinged:
[Bounty Payment Confirmed: +$120 AD] [Current Balance: $2,150 AD] [Rent Due: February 20, 2295 - $2,200 AD]
Looking at her secondary account saving, the math was simple. Six Bone Fiends bought her groceries. Rent required something else entirely.
Her encrypted business account blinked with a waiting message—probably another client booking her Leased Lily services after dark. She ignored it, instead pulling up the page she checked every morning:
[Economic class shuttle: Xing Hong → Himalia Port, Europa] [Current price: $1,699,900 / 1 adult]
One point seven million Atomic Dollars. Might as well be one point seven billion.
"Ivar," she whispered to her reflection in the window. "I'm trying…"
The pain in her ribs throbbed in time with her pulse. The cab hummed onward through the Martian afternoon, carrying her toward Clinic Chakraborty whose owner always fixed her up.
Twenty-three minutes to think about how another day on Mars meant bleeding in an autocab, wondering if she'd earned enough for dinner, and pretending the real damage wasn't the kind any doctor could fix.
Mars Time: 14:23, February 17, 2295
Clinic Chakraborty, Eagle District, Xing Hong
The purified Medi-Vap tasted bitter. Comforting, but bitter.
Lying in bed, wearing nothing but gray laced underwear beneath white sheets, Sigrun knew the sensation intimately after eleven years—that mint-and-metal flavor as nanobots knitted flesh, the slight euphoric buzz as endorphins flooded her system.
Doctor Nikki Chakraborty's voice came, half concern, half tease. "Let me guess. You forgot to bring the Medi-Vap vial again."
"Yeah…just my luck." Sigrun sighed, holding back the urge to squirm under pain.
"Alright. Take a deep breath for me. It'll be over soon." Nikki pressed the vaporizer to Sigrun's lips again. The older woman's dark eyes were kind but tired behind wire-rimmed glasses, gray threading through black hair pulled into a practical bun. Her white coat bore the stains of a long shift. "Three broken ribs, internal bleeding, and Aether depletion down to single digits. You're lucky to have Alliance insurance, or this treatment would cost more than your monthly salary."
Sigrun's Nucleus Watch projected her stats in holographic blue above her wrist. Eleven years had carved away the soft teenage girl who'd fled Europa:
Name: Sigrun Fjeld
Age: 29
Race: Nordling
PRIMAL Statistics:
-
Power: 7 (Experienced combat + physical training)
-
Resilience: 5 (Suitable for extended combat or intense workout)
-
Intellect: 1 (Trauma-induced cognitive damage)
-
Magnetism: 2 (Beauty undermined by intimidation)
-
Agility: 3 (Adequate for survival)
-
Libido: 6 (Constant stress and compartmentalization —> heightened sex drive)
Psionic Attunement: Lunar (Adept)
Status: [UNAVAILABLE DURING MEDICAL TREATMENT]
Occupation: Psi Lynx, Terra Alliance certified
Secondary Income: Unknown / Suspect of Unsponsored Leased Lily
"The antibodies are holding," Nikki continued, studying her medical scanner. "Another successful mission containing the Radi-Mons in the tunnels, though you cut it close this time. Come a few hours later and you'd have become one of them."
One of them. Breeding monsters instead of killing them. Her mother's plan for her. Would've succeeded if not for Ivar. But that was—
Sigrun's head throbbed. The timeline kept fracturing in her mind.
"Think life as a monster-breeding woman would be easier?" Sigrun's voice came out rough. Eleven years of Mars dust and violence had scraped away her Nordic accent, replaced it with something neutral, unplaceable. "At least Radi-Mons don't pay rent or worry about harassment on the streets."
"You should consider settling down." Nikki removed the IV drip feeding medical compounds into Sigrun's veins. "Find a nice husband, have children while you still can. This life is killing you by inches."
Sigrun laughed, bitter. "What man would want damaged goods like me? Some bounty hunter who moonlights as—" She caught herself. Even here, even with Nikki who'd patched her up dozens of times, some truths stayed unspoken.
"You'd be surprised. Men nowadays are more...understanding. Especially here on Mars where the gender ratio is three-to-one male." Nikki's gaze was too knowing. "Besides, that Magnetism score of 2 doesn't tell the whole story. You're still pretty, Sigrun. You just won't let anyone close enough to see it."
The wall display flickered to life with its mandatory hourly cycle:
[WELCOME TO XING HONG - MARS'S PREMIER SETTLEMENT]
[Current Population: 2.3 million]
[All monetary information displayed in Atomic Dollars]
[AD: AFFORDABLE HOUSING IN EAGLE DISTRICT! Studio units starting at $12,000/month! Running water included! Windows at premium rates!]
[AD: LONELY? Leased Lily Services - Now with Android Options!
-
Human companionship: $800/hour.
-
Android: $400/hour.
First-timers get 20% off!
Reminder #1: Police certificate must be provided for premium services including bukkake, spitroast and BDSM
Reminder #2: All Leased Lilies operating in Xing Hong must be sponsored by a legal agency. LL services provided without sponsorship is a criminal act. Consult legal professionals before employment.
]
[AD: BREATHE EASY IN YOUR APARTMENT!
Premium Oxygen Subscription: $3,500/month.
Standard air: $1,500/month.
Economy mix available for qualified low-income residents.]
[ADVERTISEMENT: RADI-MON SIGHTING REWARDS INCREASED! $25 per confirmed Bone Fiend kill. $75 for Skuggrs. $6,969 for each V?xtr (Vuhk-stir, Breeding Machine). Report your fresh kills via Nucleus Watch apps immediately!
[### Remember: Radi-Mons cannot convert humans! Always verify information on the Extranet and trust your government!]
"They raised the bounty prices," Sigrun noted. "Must mean the Fenris Horde is getting bolder."
"Or Prefect Dilinur wants more cannon fodder checking the tunnels." Nikki's voice dropped. "Sigrun, I've been doing this for thirty years. I've seen what happens to bounty hunters who don't know when to quit. The lucky ones die quick. The unlucky ones..." She gestured at Sigrun's belly, where old Kraken sucker marks from two years back still marred the ivory skin. "They become something else. Something that survives but doesn't live."
"I need the bounty work. Cops won't investigate my side business if I'm actively killing Radi-Mons."
"Why not take an office job? Your diploma qualifies you for project assistant positions at any tech company."
"For what? Three thousand a month?" Sigrun met her gaze. "To be a slave at a screen ten hours a day?"
"It's sustainable if you move to a cheaper district." Nikki monitored the readouts. "How many appointments are you taking?"
"Three, maybe four when rent's due." Sigrun's eyes darted away. The real number eluded her. "Sometimes more."
"And you're using Medi-Vap after every session?"
"Can't risk pregnancy." Sigrun looked back. "Why?"
"Because you're overdoing it." Nikki turned the screen toward her.
[#CAUTION: Medi-Vap Overdose - 23 administrations detected in past week based on blood composition]
"Yesterday was seven sessions back-to-back. Mostly corporate types. All wanted the full hour."
"That's insane! You need rest, not more damage to the work I'm doing here."
"I made a promise. To someone who's gone." Now healed, Sigrun sat up, impatient. "I have to keep getting stronger."
Her clothes waited on the opposite wall: beige trench coat, cobalt turtleneck, black pants, leather boots—all ballistic weave.
"For what? Revenge? Justice?" Nikki pulled up Sigrun's medical history, scrolling through eleven years of accumulated damage. "Your Intellect has dropped to 1. The trauma, constant Aether depletion, the... other things. Your brain is literally rewiring itself for basic combat responses at the expense of higher reasoning."
"I can still fight."
"But can you think? Plan beyond the next mission, next client, next payment?" Nikki set down the tablet. "When did you last read a book? Solve a problem without violence? Form a genuine connection?"
The answer was eleven years ago, in Ivar's dorm, pretending to understand his philosophy lectures. Now she could barely follow complex conversations. Words slipped away like Martian sand through fingers.
"I should check the bounty board." Sigrun stood, pulling on her pants and turtleneck. "Rent's due in three days."
"Your earnings should cover—"
"Oxygen and food, yeah." Sigrun shrugged into her trench coat, checking Baldr's weight in the inner pocket. "Everything else needs more money."
"You're saving for something." Nikki adjusted her glasses. "I can tell."
"Personal matter. Can't say."
Nikki sighed, producing a small blue vial from her bag. "Purified Indra-Sprite. From my personal supply—real Mangosteen and Blue Durian, not synthetic. Should restore your Aether without side effects."
"I can't pay—"
"Early birthday present. You turn thirty in April, right?"
Sigrun couldn't remember anymore. Her Nucleus Watch tracked such things, anyway.
"Thank you." The words felt rusty. When was the last time she had thanked someone for something that was not transactional?
She drank it in one swallow. Warmth flooded her—gentle, like being held.
"One more thing." Nikki stopped her at the door. "Prefect Dilinur called last week about 'misunderstandings with local authorities.'"
Sigrun's hand tightened on the handle. The Prefects never cared about bounty hunting. This was about her other work.
"They asked me to verify if you're the 'Bedchamber Valkyrie'—the unsponsored Lily advertising on the Extranet." Nikki paused. "I'll provide medical proof you're unrelated. If you avoid clients this week."
The warning hung like Martian dust: suffocating, inescapable.
Sigrun's jaw tightened. A week without client income meant she'd need to take three, maybe four bounties. Higher risk. More chances to end up back here with worse than broken ribs.
Or worse than here.
"I'll see what I can do." Not a lie, not quite. Just the only answer she had.
Outside, Xing Hong's afternoon sprawl hit. Eagle District's neon already flickered despite daylight, advertising everything from black-market Psytum Swords to "authentic Earth cuisine"—having lived here for over a decade, Sigrun knew it meant protein paste with green coloring.