and we’ll be long gone before the fraud is discovered.
The interior of the tent swirls with both heavy smoke and pulsing music. Various sapients are engaged in smoking from towering hookahs, downing large quantities of liquor, and haggling over merchandise both living and not. In the middle of the tent, surrounding the central post that supports most of its bulk, lies a segmented metal floor, one of the collapsible types. Upon its surface twirls a topless human woman, her face painted up in exotic, dramatic cosmetics as a Kilgari pounds on a drum nearby.
I claim a low table, which requires one to sit cross legged as there are no chairs. Lamira moves to sit across from me, but I yank her down across my lap with the leash.
“Do not presume to put distance between us, slave.”
I give her bottom a firm slap, causing her mostly exposed cheeks to dance. Lamira squeals and climbs over my lap to sit between me and the wall. This way she’s protected, and so is our cover.
“Now what do we do?”
I glance over at her and whisper out of the side of my mouth. “Now we wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“For him.”
I look up as an Alzhon with a crudely made cybernetic leg limps up to our table. He leans on a metal cane, and his gaze lingers on Lamira. “Greetings, friend.”
“We’re not friends, but I bid you greetings anyway.”
“True.” He gestures toward Lamira. “Might you be willing to consider selling the human girl?”
His eyes fairly sparkle with avarice.
“I’m considering it.” I try to keep my tone aloof and business-like. “I inherited her from my father, even though I already have plenty of slaves. Besides, she’s much too skinny for my liking. I prefer women to have some meat on their bones.”
“To each their own. Would you consider two thousand credits?”
I lean my head back and laugh. “No, I wouldn’t consider that at all. She’s clearly premium merchandise, and I intend to get a price ten times that amount.”
The Alzhon doesn’t seem surprised but is disappointed.
“I’d feared as much, but I thought it worth the try. If you’re looking to get top price for your merchandise, you should head to the moon of Consolation. You’ll get a premium.”
“Consolation? But that was abandoned long ago.”
The Alzhon shakes his head. “Not so. I have it on good authority.”
“Thanks, fellow. I’ll look into it.”
He hobbles away and I feel one of Lamira’s sharp elbows digging into my ribcage.
“Ow.”
“Skinny, am I?”
Uh-oh. “Ah, Lamira, I was only…”
“Relax, big guy. I’m just yanking your chain.”
I join in her laughter and then quickly stand up. “No, I am yanking on yours.” She chuckles, going with the motion and standing up as I tug on the leash. “We have the information we need. Let’s head back to the Queen.”
As we head for the exit, a pair of burly, ridged-faced Vakutans step into our path. These men aren’t the typical type of low-class scum one normally finds on Tartus. Their weapons look well maintained, and they wear class-two hard armor vests and thigh bucklers.
“Pardon me, friend.” The one who speaks is missing an eye but has neglected to put a patch over the grotesque mass of scar tissue where it used to be. “But we’re most interested in acquiring your little delicacy there.”
He points at Lamira.
“I’m afraid she’s not for sale.”
I try to move past them, but they move to continue blocking the path. “I’m afraid we can’t take no for an answer.”
Damn. Outnumbered, and outgunned, by two members of one of the fiercest warrior races in the known galaxy.
How the hell are we going to get out of this mess?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lamira
In most establishments, the proprietor will either call the authorities or intervene personally if it looks like a fight is about to break out—or has broken out—in their place of business. But this is Tartus and is certainly not like most places. There are no authorities to contact, and as far as breaking up the conflict goes, it looks to me like the bartender is making bets on the likely winner.
Grantian seems conflicted, frozen in a fugue state. I know in my heart he could defeat these Vakutans, formidable though they seem, but he seems reluctant. Why is that?
Then it hits me like a bolt from the blue. Of course, Grantian is reluctant to start throwing hands. He’s worried I’ll get caught in the crossfire.
“Look, horny.” The ridged-faced Vakutan with both his eyes and a slightly higher-pitched voice withdraws a credstick. “We’re not unreasonable men.