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They chuckled. Avir and Masok slid their arms around him, daring doom. They walked away from the chapel grounds, heading toward their lodging.
Their route took them through the tourist district, which featured a large number of shops catering to any number of the two hundred-plus species belonging to the Galactic Council of Planets. They strolled leisurely, pointing out interesting goods and sights to each other, occasionally entering interesting-looking stores to browse and make the odd purchase to be delivered to their home on Kalquor.
Avir found a couple of bottles of alcohol of rare vintage. Masok discovered a designer shirt in his size. Kom predictably drooled over knives. He not so predictably went into ecstasies when he stumbled across a partial journal written by a noted astrophysicist from Kalquor who’d died a century prior to Matt’s birth.
“I know he reads those scientific journals, but he’s acting like a music fan who just met his idol,” Matt whispered to Masok. A flushed Kom was discussing how to properly preserve the tattered remains of the journal with the store’s proprietor.
“He has favorite scientists from all disciplines,” Masok chuckled, thumbing through drawings of fashion designs from twenty years before. “If he’d had the ability to sit still for longer than twenty minutes, he probably would have become a scientist himself. Have you noticed he listens to lectures from noted researchers during his workouts?”
Matt had. Kom was energetic and needed to keep moving. His humor was bawdy. It was easy to forget he had a vast intellect.
“Do you think he’s sad he wasn’t able to have a career in scientific studies?”
“Kom doesn’t believe in living with regrets.” Masok looked from Matt to Kom, love warming his features. “That has to be why he couldn’t give up looking for you.”
When they left the shop, Matt took Kom’s hand. The Nobek grinned at him, glowing from the excitement of his purchase, and squeezed. Then he did a doubletake of their fingers twined and at the busy lane they walked.
“This is all right?” he asked. “Out in the open?”
“This is perfect,” Matt said.
The clan, Masok and Avir in particular, continued to find treasures to buy. Matt took pleasure in their successful hunt. He had no urge to buy anything. He couldn’t imagine a single item in the shops that could compare to being a part of the clan’s life or his newfound ability to celebrate it without fear.
Then he saw it. Matt stopped in his tracks and gaped at the display of the junk store they were walking past.
“Find something you like, Mattie?”
He barely heard Kom’s question. His gaze was consumed by the twelve-string guitar…like the Martin, a holy grail for someone who loved to play. The display switched to another item.
Matt wondered if he’d dreamed it. He spoke in a thin wheeze, too breathless to find his voice. “I think it was a Rickenbacker 360.”
“Let’s go in and have a look.” Avir’s arm circled his shoulders, and Matt floated into the store.
Like many Earther items with few to appreciate them, the instrument’s picture had been taken and the file loaded alongside other less popular things for sale to flash quickly in the slim hope someone would catch a glimpse and want it. The guitar and its case had then been shoved in the back storage area, where only an inventory list could discover its whereabouts.
The Dantovonian proprietor watched Matt greedily as he opened the case with trembling fingers. It occurred to him he was betraying his excitement and therefore, probably driving the price sky high. But he couldn’t restrain his reverence when the Rickenbacker was exposed to view.
“Semi-acoustic. It’s old as fuck, probably pre-off-planet colonization period, but retrofitted for modern electronics.” He inspected the wear on the piece. It showed signs of having been well cared for, but it had definitely been a working guitar and not a display piece despite its antique status. “I have to play it to know how good of shape it’s in.”
He attempted to do so, but the strings were shot. He went over it as best he could and thought it would be fine, but unable to actually tune it in to a frequency amplifier or play it in any way, he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t merely a pretty decoration from a bygone era. He wanted it just the same. If he left it behind, it would break his heart.
“He’s a musician who requires instruments he can use. He can’t tell if it’ll work,” Avir said to the proprietor. “It needs servicing. Probably replacement parts. Look how the finish is worn in these areas.”
Matt was insulted on the guitar’s behalf, but he also realized Avir was bargaining. He kept his mouth shut, fighting the urge to defend its beauty and legendary status.
“You think I didn’t see how his face lit up when he saw it? It’s gotta be rare, since the old Earth’s a nuclear waste dump. Come on, Kalquorian, I have to make a living. Your entire clan is wearing designer clothing, or I’m a Tragoom’s ass. It’s worth what I’m asking.”
The Dantovonian named a price in GC credits Matt couldn’t fathom. He gaped at the alien.
Avir, misinterpreting his shock at what was a fraction of what the instrument would have been worth on Earth, barked a laugh. “Even he can’t believe how outrageous your markup is. You probably paid a quarter of what you’re asking. Maybe less. I’m betting it was part of a mixed lot sold to you in a bundle. Earther stuff tends to sit around and gather dust. Be reasonable.”
The proprietor spluttered at the amount Avir offered. He looked so incensed, Matt was terrified he’d throw them out of the shop and set fire to the Rickenbacker. It was on the tip of his tongue to beg Avir to pay the first amount without further argument.
But the Dantovonian snarled, “Double your offer, or forget it. The dust needs a place to go, so I’ll be happy to return the gee-tah to storage.”
Avir glanced at Matt. “Well…you know better than we do, Mattie. What’s this old thing worth?”
Matt fought to control the trembling in his voice. He could hardly believe he was joining in on the bargaining rather than snatching up the Rickenbacker and running for the door. “It’s seen a lot of action. I really like it, but it’s far from pristine, and who knows if the neck is warped?”I’m sorry, I don’t mean a word of it,he thought to the guitar. “If he’d reduce his offer by, I don’t know, fifty?”
