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“He’s got a lot on his mind, fluffit.” Like your safety.
She gets to her feet, holding out a silver-spangled dress that flows like water. “See if this will fit. And maybe after we find this guy, we go to that station for a dinner out, you, me and Jamef. Someplace with a terrarium. I’d love to see their flowers. I have memories of those, you know.”
My heart squeezes, because the dinner we’d planned together to show her off isn’t going to happen. Not with a bounty on any cloned human. “We’ll see, fluffit. Help me put this mess on?”
One Hundred Nine
JAMEF
Bethiah looks absolutely stunning dressed up. She’s wearing a silvery sheath that I’m pretty sure I saw on Rhonda several days ago, but this one is stretched over her black bodysuit and covers her tattoos and scars enough that she looks elegant. Bangles line her wrists and her ears and horns are bedecked with glittering strands of jewelry. Her hair is pulled back in a sleek bun to allow the emphasis to remain on her adornments, and her cosmetics outline dark eyes and bright red, inviting lips.
“Beautiful,” I tell her.
“Thanks. It keffing itches, though. I don’t know how Rhonda wears this shit on a daily basis.” She lifts one arm and scratches at her armpit, frowning. “Let’s get going before I rip this off of my body in a rage fit.” She turns to Dora, who’s fussing with the hem of Bethiah’s dress. “You sure you’ll be all right without us, fluffit?”
“I’m heading into the hidey-hole for a nap the moment you guys leave, I promise,” Dora says, patting the blaster at her hip. “And I won’t come out until you return.”
“Okay, good. And if Rhonda gets out, shoot her. We can space the carcass and make excuses later.” She kisses Dora’s forehead, leaving a bright red mark on the human’s pale skin. Instead of wiping it away, though, she looks proud of it. “Leave that there. We’ll mark you up more later.”
Dora blushes and moves toward me, tilting her face up for my kiss. “You be safe, too,” she tells me softly. “And look out for Bethiah. Trouble follows her.”
“That’s because she’s the one bringing the trouble.” I kiss her sweet face and run my thumb over her lower lip. “You’re sure you won’t be too scared in the room alone? I know you hate enclosed spaces.”
“I’ll manage. The ship feels more like home now and it doesn’t stress me out as much.” She gives me a cheerful smile and I hope she’s not pretending for our sakes. “Now you two go on and find this guy so we can get Rhonda offloaded.”
She heads off to her hiding spot, and Bethiah and I head out of the ship and into the docks. I step onto one of the moving walkways gratefully and try my best not to rub my leg. It’s been flaring with pain all morning and getting difficult for me to hide. Luckily for this portion of the job, all I need to do is keep my head down and look surly if anyone gets too close to Bethiah. It doesn’t require chatter or being friendly, which is good, because I don’t think I can manage more than a snarl at the moment.
Bethiah is quiet, too, her expression regal as she stands a few steps ahead of me, clutching a tiny handbag that looks too small for her grip. As the walkway winds through the satellite, we leave the docking area behind and head into the entertainment district. Here, colorful shops scream their wares with glitzy signs, advertising tasty drinks to insect-protein snacks and all kinds of exotic brews. There’s gambling dens everywhere, of course, and each den seems to be accompanied by a cantina next door, complete with dancing girl in the window. There are crowds of aliens of all kinds, and most of them are drunk or in the process of getting drunk. It’s strange to see well-dressed Homeworld nobility tottering around like sloshed militia recruits, but I suppose that’s what this sort of place is for. A satellite like this caters to higher-end clientele by charging three times as much to dock—as my empty pockets can attest—and keeps the riffraff out.
A couple gets on the walkway ahead of us, and I see a huge, ugly moden male holding the delicate chain of a human female. She’s got a collar around her neck and a downtrodden look on her face.
This is definitely not a place I want to take Dora. For the moment, I’m glad she’s back at the ship. Maybe this is what Lord Nerit had in mind when he left Rhonda back at the other station? But then why not say anything? Why make her assume the worst?
My leg jolts with pain and I lean heavily to one side, staggering.
