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With that, he left her, alone. Shaking. Confused. Feeling as if she’d somehow been defeated.
* * * *
Present day
The afternoon after her disappointing encounter with Halmiko, Bernadette met with the station’s dockmaster, a Dantovonian named Bik. With her cargo set to be offloaded and a promise from Bik that he’d inform her if a shipment for Haven Colony came up in the next two days, she headed back to theRogue.
As she navigated Nove’s crowded corridors, she scanned the beggars huddled against the walls without being obvious about it. There almost as many as those with jobs who dashed about the station performing their tasks. Nove was due a purge. No doubt the station’s administrators were readying a transport to take the homeless and offload them on the Galactic Council’s overrun charity bases. For a week or two, Nove would be free of the desperate sleeping in corners and alcoves, asking passersby for money or work. Then they’d begin drifting in again, desolate wretches with tragic tales and only a sliver of hope for the future.
Bernadette kept a lookout for children and women, those most likely to be taken advantage of by the unscrupulous that numbered among those who frequented Nove Station. She’d pass on her ship’s name and dock to them, written on scraps of paper. Those who answered the summons would be granted the opportunity to hitch a ride on theRogueto a friendlier port where they could be sent on to relatives or friends. If she couldn’t convince them to come with her, she’d at least guarantee they’d received decent meals and a safe place to sleep until she left. What wasn’t spent on ship’s maintenance and crew pay went to refugees. She’d cast aside most of her vows as a nun, but charity to those less fortunate remained her primary goal.
That, and finding Doljen.
She’d bequeathed scraps of paper with theRogue’slocation to three women, two with children, when she reached the merchant concourse in the center of the station. The wide, circular space boasted shops on its outer walls and a maze ofportable kiosks one had to wind a path around. Sellers cried out to passersby, hawking their wares, creating a din that Bernadette had learned to fend off by inhaling pain relievers before she arrived.
It was a scene so chaotic with colors, textures, angles, curves, odors, aromas, stenches, and noise, it was difficult to make sense of any of it. Yet, as if drawn by a magnet, Bernadette’s gaze immediately fell on a hulking Kalquorian. Halmiko.
He stood at a stall, which glittered with blades of every size and configuration imaginable. The proprietors, Beonod twins, were as silvery as their wares. They watched Halmiko eagerly as he perused the collection of knives and daggers and weapons Bernadette couldn’t have put a name to.
She snorted. His chest was crisscrossed with bandoleers. A belt cinched his waist, and a second rode lower on his hips. Straps circled his beefy thighs. In every pouch was the handle to some sort of blade or blaster. No doubt, like most Nobeks, he had more weaponry hidden in his knee-high boots and probably the black leather gauntlets he wore on his heavily scarred arms. The man was already a veritable porcupine bristling with pointy objects, yet he was shopping for more. Even his two-pronged beard had points, for heaven’s sake.
She wasn’t sure why she sauntered to him, considering how useless he’d turned out to be in her search for Doljen. Nonetheless, she approached. He didn’t acknowledge her, but he was a Nobek, so he knew she was there.
“The first step in fixing a problem is admitting you have one,” she told him.
“What problem do you think I have?” A smile twitched his lips.
“An addiction to knives, apparently. How many does one man need, Hal?”
He glanced at her then. Maybe it was her pointing out an obvious obsession. Maybe it was her mocking tone. Maybe it was being called Hal. Either way, his expression shifted to suggest irritation.
“How goes your search for my Imdiko?” He shook his head at the blade the male Beonod offered him.
“We’ll see when I reach Haven. Shall I give Tumsa your regards?” She caught herself eyeing a decorative jeweled sword fit for an ancient Earther king. The Beonod female noticed and made as if to take it out of its protective glass case.
Bernadette waved her off. “No thanks. I’d cut my own arm off with that thing.”
The Beonod giggled and winked.
A definite frown from Halmiko. “I’d like to find out what happened between you and Doljen.”
“Yeah? Tell me exactly where on Haven I can locate Tumsa.”
“He isn’t hiding, as far as I know. Ask around.” Halmiko looked her over, his gaze evaluating. “You look better with your hair down.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment? Let me try. You look better with my eyes closed.” Bernadette patted the coiled bun of her hair. “At least I have hope of improving my appearance in the light of day.”
She was lying through her teeth about his looks. His features were a touch craggy and rough, yes, but handsome, framed by jet-black hair that reached to his waist. That double-spiked beard gave him a devilish aspect. In a good way.
A hint of warmth within told Bernadette she was perfectly fine with his appearance. He probably would have looked even better without the grim set of his features, which occasionally drifted into a morose expression.
He relaxed. There was no smile, but he proved her assessment correct as his countenance eased. When hisirritation faded, he was striking. He turned from the knife display to the Beonods’ shared chagrin. He made a show of sizing her up.
“Let’s go somewhere private. When I strip off my clothes, you won’t give a damn about how my face looks. You won’t be able to take your eyes off all I have to offer.”
“You have nothing I’m interested in, unless you can tell me where Doljen is.”
“Did you fuck him, little girl? Is that why you’re so determined to find him?” Halmiko took a step toward her. No softness now. He was brutish with sudden anger.
