by Juno Wells
Vrix caught her arm to help her around one particularly nasty jumble of metal and stinking trash, and kept her close as they headed back into the street and joined the slow-moving crowd of drunks heading for the next bar. They walked in silence toward Pyix's hotel, both of them focused on observing everyone around them. Vrix kept an eye out for any Slasu in the area. No doubt the rumors of another Earther female on Caihiri would reach them eventually; they might even seek him out to offer to purchase her. That would make it easier to find the slave traders, but he didn't like the idea of a target on Griggs.
She leaned against him just a little as they walked, and Vrix adjusted his arm to hold her closer, hoping to keep her warm in the sudden wind. Griggs didn't look up. "It's just because I'm cold. Don't get any ideas."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Vrix said, holding back a laugh. He'd never met anyone who was so consistently and aggressively on their guard. He wondered if she'd even be able to sleep while sharing a room with him. "But you can relax a little, you know."
"Not until we're back on the ship," she muttered. "Not until we find Heidi."
Vrix couldn't really argue with that. He focused on getting them back to Pyix's, then finding something to feed her. Once Griggs was settled in the room for the night, Vrix stood a better chance of buying a few drinks in the bar and sussing out more information on the Slasu and any Earthers in that part of town. He made a mental note to speak with Pyix about guaranteeing Griggs would get off the planet if anything happened to Vrix. He could trust the other Xaravians to make sure she was safe and free at the end of all this. He didn't worry about himself in the least. Death with honor awaited, even if things went badly.
The bar at Pyix's nearly overflowed into the street, filled with every rowdy Xaravian on the damn planet it seemed, and as they faced a sea of hungry males, Griggs gulped. Vrix knew he'd pay for it in the end, but he wasn't about to let her elbow her way through a crowd of hands and eyes attached to drunk males nearly twice her height. So he picked her up, threw her over his shoulder—making sure to keep her ass covered even with the skimpy fabric—and barreled through the bar, knocking aside anyone who didn't make way immediately. Roars and grumbles and a few cheers greeted him as Vrix made it through the melee and up the stairs, snagging a tray of food from the bar as he went.
Griggs dangled against his back and sighed. "You could give me some warning before you do that. I almost dropped the bag."
"If I give you any warning, you'll reach for my dagger." She tensed and Vrix laughed. "What, you think I didn't see you plotting that? Just know there's a small dagger hidden on my right side as well. If you should ever need it."
He set her down before unlocking the door, and Griggs swayed as she shook her head and braced against the doorjamb. "Thanks. I'll remember that."
Vrix placed the tray of food on the unsteady table near the window and sat in one of the chairs so he could put his feet up on the frame of the bed. "Sit. Eat."
Griggs dug through her bag and pulled out a heavy tunic, shedding the silk robe so she could draw on the more comfortable garment. "I'm not sitting in my underwear and eating, thanks."
"You look beautiful, by the way. In case you didn't realize." He reached for some of the spicy grilled meat on the tray, pretending to examine it so he wouldn't grin at her narrow-eyed look. Searching for a challenge or a dig in the comment, no doubt. "But you need to learn to take a compliment."
"What I look like doesn't matter," she said. She kicked off the fancy slippers and perched on the other chair, sniffing at the food. "What matters is my strength, my speed, my dedication, my honor, and—"
"All of those qualities are vital, yes. They make you who you are." Vrix handed her a small cup filled to the brim with the eye-watering Xaravian liquor. "But your beauty is part of that. Why ignore it when it is also a source of strength?"
Griggs looked at him with a flat expression. "It's not a strength. Not in the Fleet. I spent just as much time in the academy fending off leering professors and students as I did studying. We all did. Even though they preach about equality, it's still a boy's club and the girls are just lucky to get a seat now and then. So no, I don't want to think about whatever it is men see in my face or my body. It's not relevant to me."
Vrix leaned back in his chair, studying her. Well, that was interesting. But he didn't want to push too hard for information, not when she was already defensive and uneasy. It had been a long day for them both, and she'd faced a few personal demons down on the search for Heidi. So Vrix finished off the slab of meat he'd picked up, and licked his fingers clean. "Understood."
She watched him. "That's it?"
"Would you like me to argue more?" He couldn't hold back a grin. "I do really enjoy arguing with you..."
"Get out of here," she said, throwing a napkin at him. "And don't lick your fingers, that's disgusting. Go find out what those meatheads in the bar are talking about. I'll go through the Slasu's clothes up here and see what else I might be able to get out of the notes."
Vrix chuckled, wiping his hands and throwing the napkin back in her face. "How am I to know you're not trying to get me drunk to take advantage of me later?" And he waggled his eyebrows at the bed.
Her cheeks reddened until he almost saw steam coming out her ears, and Griggs spluttered for words as she stared at him. "I would hardly—"
"Normally I'd sleep on the floor, but if you insist on sharing the bed, I should warn you, I like to cuddle."
Griggs bounced to her feet and nearly hit the ceiling as her face turned purple. "You…I don't…we won't—"
Vrix laughed and dodged as she swung a pillow at him, and he headed for the door. "Fine, fine. Just make sure you're dressed when I get back. Don't try to tempt me with your... assets."
Another howl of incoherent disbelief reached him through the door as Vrix pulled it shut behind him, and he was still laughing as he headed to the bar to find Pyix. He needed to figure out where those damn Slasu were hiding, and then he could go back upstairs to see what Griggs had in store for him.
Griggs
Griggs couldn't form a coherent thought for at least five minutes after Vrix skipped down the stairs, and started to wonder whether he really meant to share the bed. There wouldn't be room for both of them if he stretched out. She locked the door behind him and got the hell out of the tiny bustier and the see-through pants, shaking her head as she hung it up in the small wardrobe against the wall. At least her comfortable clothes were still in the bag.
She unpacked the rest of the outfits and hung them up, then shook out her travel clothes. Something fluttered to the floor as she did so, and Griggs frowned as she bent to retrieve it. A business card. Before she could roll her eyes and trash it, since she never wanted to go back to that store again, Griggs glanced at the back. Neat handwriting in loopy script covered the pale pink paper, in a reasonable effort at Earther language.
We are here to help. If you need assistance, return to the store and we can make you disappear.
Her eyebrows rose. Now that was interesting. She's assumed the trio of chickens were traitors to their gender, but if they used the store as a front to free slaves... Griggs had a lot to talk with them about. They might even have more information on where the Slasu were hiding, or where Heidi might have disappeared to. Griggs pondered the business card for a moment longer, trying to throw off the slight haze of the sip of liquor she'd had. That Xaravian shit was better off peeling paint from the walls or off her ship. Newton and Bernoulli above, it was awful. Her eyes watered just remembering it.
Griggs tucked the business card away and slipped back to the door, pressing her ear to it to check for Vrix's approach. Hopefully he still had a great deal of eating and drinking and carousing to do in the bar with his fellow barbarians, so she'd have time to figure out what the hell to do with Jess's contacts. And the old-timey communicator creaked and vibrated when she started it up, but at least Jess remembered to charge it before tucking it into her bag.
T
hat still unnerved Griggs, to think Jess managed to slip something into a bag Griggs was still holding as she packed, and Griggs hadn't noticed. What else was Jess doing under their noses that no one paid attention to? The whole cargo hold of the Heisenberg could have been filled with stowaways or gold or who the hell knew what.
She shook her head and put that away for later. She could worry about that with Rowan and Isla when she got back to the ship, and they could all have an honest conversation with Jess. They'd all worked together for so long; there had to be some trust left. They could rebuild. They had to. All six of them—seven if they counted Estelle, the officer on the ship the Hawking they'd commandeered and renamed Heisenberg—were in that journey together. They couldn't go back to the Fleet or the Alliance. They had to go forward. Together.
Griggs took a deep breath and retrieved the notes with Jess's contacts from where she'd shoved it in her bra before being unceremoniously stripped by the gray chicken ladies, and squinted at the crumpled paper. She had to take second to practice what she'd say before she finally sat down on the bed and put the number into the communicator. She really hoped there weren't any prefix numbers like some of the low-tech planets required.
It rang at least a dozen times before she hung up. So no answer on the first one. If the second contact didn't answer, Griggs had to rely solely on Vrix's information-gathering capabilities, and maybe a trio of wacky space chickens running a costume shop for prostitutes. She closed her eyes and laughed under her breath, wishing she could share the absurdity with someone. Isla always wanted to find adventure, and now all six of them had it in spades.
Griggs centered herself and found that calm spot of concentration her martial arts instructors always preached about, and when her pulse slowed and she felt more alive, she inputted the numbers for the second contact. That, too, rang and rang, and just as she was going to give up, someone answered.
The communicator clicked, then a rusty voice said, "What?"
Her hand shook as she held up the paper and searched for the right phrase. Was he supposed to say the first one, then she said the second? Or she said the first, he said something, then she said the second? Griggs held back panic as the silence stretched too long, and she finally blurted out the first thing under the number. "I'm in the market for a Tyluk ship and a cargo hold full of the finest Nuoli silks. I heard you can help with that sort of thing."
And again the silence stretched. Someone grumbled and heaved a dramatic sigh, then the voice responded. "I do not have any Tyluk this week, but I have some Tyboli. When do you want to meet?"
Something else Griggs hadn't really thought out. "Tomorrow morning. Nine bells."
More grumbling and complaining, and the hiss of a cigar burning down. "Fine. You know the place?"
"Yes." Griggs didn't know how the hell she'd recognize the guy, though his accent made him sound like a Tyluk himself. She hesitated, wondering if she should ask what he looked like, but guessed Jess wouldn't do something so unprofessional. If anyone else were listening in on the conversation, they'd be able to identify him and then her from the meeting. Before she could decide to say something, though, the communicator clicked off and Griggs straightened from her panicked crouch near the table.
Just as she stood and set the communicator down, she glanced back and froze. Vrix stood in the doorway, carrying a bottle of liquor, and looked at her with an impassive expression. Her heart started racing again. No telling how much he heard, or what he suspected of her. Griggs opened her mouth to explain or at least lie, but nothing came out as his eyes flashed silver and the spikes rattled on his shoulders. The din from the bar reached them even on the second floor, and hid whatever it was Vrix started to say. Then he slammed the door behind himself and folded his arms over his chest. Waiting.
Griggs wished she'd bothered to see if the window could open, so she stood a chance of running for it and making a clean escape.
Vrix
Vrix didn't have time to fuck around in the bar. He paid Pyix for the food he took up to Griggs, then bought a couple of bottles of the expensive Xaravian liquor—the kind that was also used as spaceship fuel. He started drinking and challenging others to drink, and eventually made friends with some of the warriors who knew how and where to find things. Even Pyix tolerantly took a shot, though gray streaked his long hair in the few places where it was visible beneath all the beads and feathers.
Vrix got a good lead on an underground club that the Slasu used to audition new slaves and make the girls waiting to be sold earn their keep through dancing for customers, and maybe more, from what the guy said. It made his skin crawl just to think about going into such a place; he couldn't imagine taking Griggs. When he starting losing feeling in his lips from the liquor, he knew enough to call it a night, and shouted something about checking on his little princess as he staggered up the stairs. He'd have to speak to Pyix the next morning, hopefully when there were far fewer non-Xaravians around.
But another surprise awaited him upstairs when he shuffled through the door. Griggs huddled next to the table and whispered into a communicator, every part of her shaking, and a crumpled piece of paper fell to the floor when she finally disconnected and saw him. She looked guilty as hell, and a hint of fear made her eyes darker. He didn't like seeing that look on her face, but he also didn't like being lied to and deceived. And if she had information they could have used earlier but kept it from him, then Vrix would have a lot to say about that.
He folded his arms over his chest and cracked open the bottle so he could a swig. He'd probably need at least two more bottles, from the look on her face. "You'd better explain, or I'm on the first ship out of here."
Griggs opened her mouth to no doubt boast about her ability to survive on her own, but Vrix held up a hand to cut her off. "And before you tell me how tough you are and how much you don't care if I'm here, think on this. Pyix has already had multiple questions about you and whether you'd be for sale for the right price. You won't last very long here on your own, and you sure as hell won't be able to find your friend. As much as you hate to admit it, you need my help. Regardless of how much you can fight and how tough and capable you are—and you are—this isn't the sort of place that you can survive. So fill me in. I don't work with partners who lie to me."
"I didn't lie," she said. "Not exactly. I didn't know if this would work, so I didn't want to give us false hope. I can't tell you everything about this, because it's not really my secret to tell, but there's something we might be able to use."
Vrix walked in and took the chair across from her, pulling it out with a thump. "Keep talking."
She handed him the paper, covered in nearly indecipherable scribbles. "These are two contacts who used to work for the Alliance, but they're up for grabs, apparently. The first one didn't answer, but the second one did. The person who gave me these contacts said they'll be able to find more about Heidi, or at least point us to who will know where she is. I didn't want us to run out of leads."
"So we're supposed to meet a complete stranger, on a hostile planet, tomorrow morning—without any time to go to the meeting location and figure out if it's an ambush?" He definitely needed more liquor.
"Yes." Griggs managed to look confident rather than uncertain, which he appreciated. At least she pretended to have bravado instead of wailing and apologizing.
"How much do you trust the person who gave you these leads? Because this would be very simple for the Alliance to trap us and make us disappear." He peeled the label off the bottle so he wasn't looking at her as she geared up for some kind of song and dance about the Fleet and the fates only knew what else.
Griggs hesitated more than he expected, and she braced her hands on the table as she debated her answer. When she finally spoke, though, he believed her. "I think I trust her enough for this to be useful. She has secrets, more than I expected, but not the kind that would put us in danger."
So it had to be one of her friends from the Argo, moonlighting as an intellige
nce officer instead of who she claimed to be. Vrix rubbed his mouth to hide a grimace. He didn't like that at all. But Griggs still watched him, uneasy and waiting, so he had to say something. Vrix took another drink and poured some into the small cup she'd used earlier. "Here's the thing. I know what kind of contact you're talking about, and I don't trust any of them. They're information peddlers—they buy and sell secrets and trade them to whomever will pay. Sometimes they sell the same information to multiple parties, and you find yourself in a room full of adversaries who know everything about you and each other and it's a complete goat rope. If they'll sell information to anyone, there's no way to trust them."
She started to protest, but he shook his head and pointed at her cup. "My turn to talk, your turn to drink."
Griggs took a grudging sip and nearly spat it back in his face, coughing and hacking as tears filled her eyes.
Vrix took a little comfort in that, at least. "Guys like those contacts don't have a line they won't cross. They'll buy and sell anyone. If we show up to meet this guy, he could turn right around and sell us to the next bounty hunter who asks. We have to be careful."
"If we're working together as a team," Griggs said, voice still scratchy from the coughing. "Then we should be okay. Right?"
Sneaky. Very sneaky. Appealing to his sense of teamwork and the mission. Vrix sighed, shaking his head, and eventually rapped his knuckles on the table. "Fine. What did your contact tell you?"
"Meet tomorrow at nine bells, at this location." She showed him the restaurant name or square written on the paper, and Vrix grunted. Whoever set up the meeting had a good sense for safe locations. That particular cafe was well-concealed from the main streets and had multiple exits, so if they needed to run, there were lots of options.
Vrix nodded and set aside the bottle. If he had to be awake and aware at nine bells, then no more liquor tonight regardless of how much it took the edge off.