Chapter 28
28
V ash-ka , what was I thinking? This was a terrible idea.
Paul leans in closer to me, grabbing my free hand and giving it a meaningful squeeze.
I turn and look at him, scanning his face for any sign that he’s changed his mind. That he’s realized how insane it is for him to accompany me on this job. When all I find is a weak smile on his face, I press into his mind through our physical connection, searching for something that will tell me I need to call this off.
He’s a tangle of emotions, each one bubbling up to the surface, only to be replaced by another a moment later. Anxiety. Determination. Trepidation. Excitement. Even flickers of arousal. But no regret. No second-guessing.
Esh’et , he’s far braver than I am.
“I…” I swallow against the lump of anxiety in my throat.
The hiss of the decompression cycle finishing and the docking door opening stops me from saying anything else, so I send a desperate wave of reassurance and confidence through our connection to bolster Paul before I pull my hand away.
I’ve gone on countless jobs before. Assumed a myriad of roles. So when I slip into the mindset of the callus criminal, it settles on my shoulders with ease. My posture grows stiffer. My usual relaxed smile is replaced with a stony, unimpressed stare. I shift my coat so the outline of the blaster at my hip is visible. The type of person I am right now wants to appear dangerous. They posture and glare to show everyone in the room they’re the toughest person there.
If only they knew that the deadliest person I’ve ever met is a smaller-than-average aespian who likes to wear knitted sweaters made by his sibling.
Maybe I should be concerned that I'm able to find this gruff persona so easily, but now isn’t the time to examine that. It’s a good thing because it will keep us safe. Hopefully.
We’re greeted by a vuloi whose deep green hide is covered in scars and a tattooed, dusty pink nexxit, both in black body armor with multiple blasters holstered across their bodies. An amateur might panic at this kind of welcome, but I know better. If they were meant as a threat, they’d be pointing those blasters at us rather than watching with crossed arms.
No, they’re our escort to the club. I silently thank Narem for providing credentials that stood up to Sin Horizon’s client screenings.
I’m sure Paul is shitting himself at the sight of these goons, but I can’t do anything to reassure him other than tighten my grip on the leash and give it a subtle tug. We’ve worked out a system where one tug means everything is fine. Two means to stay alert because there’s a potential problem. Three… Vash-ka , if I need to use three, that means he should find cover immediately.
My stomach churns at the thought. No. It won’t come to that. This is going to work.
“Captain Jaeril?” The vuloi gives me an assessing look, narrowing all of it’s eyes at me.
I glare back at them coldly, and pull out my fake ID with a bored sigh. I don’t even bother to reply, because this person isn’t worth the wasted breath. Or at least, that’s what Jaeril would think.
The vuloi I’m glaring at breaks eye contact first, which is a clear sign that I’ve asserted my dominance over them. The nexxit peers at the identification card, not daring to take it out of my hand.
They exchange a quick look and their eyes fall on Paul, unsure what to make of my companion. He’s in a hooded cloak that obscures most of his features and hides his state of undress from view while we make the trip from the docking bay of this small rec station to the club.
“If you’d like to keep your lives, you’ll stop looking at my pet. Immediately.”
Paul tenses beside me. To him, I probably sound crazy, threatening guards like that. If I were presenting as my normal, jovial self, then it would be a terrible choice. But Jaeril is the kind of person who knows they can kill both of the mercs before they even reach for their weapons.
Both of the mercs snap their eyes back to me. I silently dare them to protest, but they know better.
“Follow us,” the vuloi grunts. I tighten my grip on Paul’s leash so it won’t slip from my sweaty palms—the only outward manifestation of the turmoil inside me. I follow the vuloi at a casual pace, and the nexxit steps in behind us.
This rec station is newer than Gryxyx, but much smaller. There’s a handful of scrap and weapons shops, most likely selling contraband goods, but the dominant feature is the blazing neon beacon at the far end of the hub—an enormous sign for Sin Horizon.
We get more than a few curious stares as the guards escort us to the club, and when one reaches out to touch Paul’s cloak, I lash out on instinct, slamming the heel of my palm into the handsy nexxit’s nose. It makes a sickening crunch and they cry out, grabbing at their face as blood streams down from their broken nose.
Paul gasps at the violence, freezing in place, but I give his leash a sharp tug. His eyes meet mine, wide with horror, and I wish I could convey to him that if I hadn’t taken care of the nexxit, they probably would’ve ended up getting shot by one of the guards for touching an important guest’s property.
The remaining onlookers avert their eyes as we pass, not wanting to end up on the other side of my fist. The surge of adrenaline from the brief altercation leaves me primed to take on any threats, and I force myself to breathe through it and calm down. If I go into the club ready to fight, this will end in disaster.
When we reach the entrance to Sin Horizon, I glance at Paul out of the corner of my eye. His light brown skin has taken on an ashen hue, which happens when he’s fearful.
Esh’et , even though he knew there was the potential for violence, I hate that I scared Paul. I feel less remorse about hurting the nexxit who tried to grab him. One thing Jaeril and I have in common is the understanding that sometimes the only language people understand is violence. I’m just far less likely to use that method of communication than my current persona is.
The nexxit clears their throat. “We’ll need to take your sidearm while you’re in the club.”
I’d expected this, and left Kha-shar back on the ship. As much as I’d feel better having my favorite blaster with me for backup, there’s no way a place like this would allow patrons to enter while armed. Too much of a risk of a quarrel or a grudge against a rival leading to bloodshed.
Still, I pretend to be put out. “No.” The word is casual, like it isn’t even worth the effort for me to raise my voice. It assumes that I can do whatever I want.
The nexxit winces. “Apologies, Captain Jaeril, but this is club policy. Even our most important patrons must adhere to the rules. I assure you that you and your property will be safe without your weapon.”
I let out a dismissive huff, reaching down to grab the blaster I have on my hip. Both guards tense, no doubt worrying I’m going to shoot them for daring to tell me what to do, but I slide it out and shove it in the vuloi’s direction.
“See that it doesn’t disappear while I’m in there,” I say, snide condescension dripping from my tone.
The vuloi blinks their columns of eyes in a cascade and their posture stiffens, no doubt fighting with the urge to argue they wouldn’t stoop to petty theft. I shove my blaster in their direction, saying a mental goodbye to it in case we have to leave without retrieving it.
“Thank you for your understanding,” the nexxit says obsequiously. I make a noncommittal grunt and shove past the pair to head through the arched entryway. I don’t want to linger and have them do a more thorough check. I have a smaller blaster concealed under a patch on my lower back in case of an emergency. Bret’u made it look pretty damn convincing as a bandage from an injury, but it won’t hold up to intense scrutiny.
Unlike most other nightclubs I’ve been to, instead of dumping us right onto the main club floor, there’s a lobby past the bouncers and security. More pulsating neon lights greet us, along with holos of gyrating aliens of every known species save humans. Guess they don’t have a problem with slavery, but draw the line at false advertising.
Another holo flickers to life at the end of the hall between the two doors on opposite walls. Paul makes a shocked sound when it appears, and I suppress the urge to chuckle because I’m sure there are security cameras monitoring us. Instead, I grip the back of his neck firmly and give him a stern look.
The nude ankite facsimile caresses their flat chest as they give us a seductive smile. “Greetings, Captain Jaeril. I’m Varia and I’ll be assisting you with anything you need. You are here to attend this night cycle’s event, correct?”
“Yes. Skip the pleasantries. I’m here to relax, not chat with a shitty VI.”
Their warm smile flickers. “Of course, Captain. If it is helpful to know, I’m a seladin behind this holo interface, not a virtual intelligence. So I’m capable of handling any complex requests you may have.”
My stomach sinks at the reminder that this whole place is probably staffed by people here against their will. Or at the very least, people with horrible wages that withstand verbal abuse from patrons every cycle. I can’t tell this “Varia” I’m here to get rid of the fa-shar monster enslaving Y’thir under false pretenses. I can’t do anything to help them right now.
I grit my teeth to keep myself from blowing our cover. “I don’t care if you’re a seladin or the damn nexxit Goddess herself. Just make sure my glass is never empty.”
I walk toward the door to the left, then pause, like I’m casually remembering something. “Oh, and I’m here looking to discuss acquisitions. My human pet is serviceable, but I’m looking for another to attend to my needs from time to time. ”
The holo’s gaze flicks over to Paul, who uses this cue to take down his hood and let his cloak fall open. Their eyes widen and they suck in a sharp breath, but quickly school their expression.
“Of course. I will pass on that information to the rest of the staff,” they say, gaze still on Paul.
“Take off your cloak and put it in the receptacle,” I bark at Paul, inclining my chin toward the hatch in the wall meant to collect any coats or belongings we don’t want to carry around the club.
“Yes, sir,” Paul murmurs, keeping his eyes downcast as he removes the cloak and places it in the hatch. He reaches out for my coat, and I slide it off, shoving it in his direction.
When it takes a while for him to fit it in the hatch, I tug on his leash and he stumbles. “Hurry up.”
He nods and shoves the coat in the rest of the way, then scrambles to my side.
I chance a small wink as my back is turned to the holo and Paul is right in front of me, and some of the tension inside me eases as the corner of his mouth twitches in a suppressed smile.
He’s still okay. If anything, the glimmer in his eyes tells me he might be having fun.
Something shifts in my mind, reframing this whole job. I’ve been so concerned about Paul’s safety and not screwing this up that I forgot how much I love what I do. It’s exhilarating, using my wit and charisma to con people and take out the scum of the galaxy.
What if this isn’t terrifying? What if this is an adventure I get to share with the human I’m falling for? A chance for me to show him why I do what I do and give him a taste of that rush.
The tight knots in my stomach ease. My spine loosens. When we step onto the club floor, I’m buzzing with excitement and anticipation instead of dread.