ALYVOS

I crack my knuckles as I watch the table across the cantina.

“I don’t like this,” Tarekh says at my side. Of course, he’s been saying that ever since the plan was agreed upon. Male’s like a broken voice-comm, stuck on a permanent loop.

“It’ll be fine,” I tell him for the hundredth time in the last hour. “Cat was good with the plan.”

“Yes, but I’m not good with it,” Tarekh growls. He fingers the gun holstered at his hip. “I’m not good with this at all.”

I should probably say something to reassure him. Sentorr would. Kivian would. Fran sure would. But all I do is crack my knuckles again, the blood singing in my veins at the thought of the upcoming fight. Some would say it’s a nervous habit, except I’m not nervous. I’m full of anticipation and irrational anger, both of which make my bloodthirsty pulse beat harder with every passing moment.

I’m the wrong one to calm Tarekh down as his mate is fake-bartered away.

Across the room, Cat wails and looks distraught, plucking at the device around her neck. She's seated on the floor at Kivian's feet, a chain and collar standing out against her pale skin and the slinky costume she’s wearing. Kivian stares at the gambling table before him and looks almost as worried as the human, which is good. It means they're selling it hard, and right now, the szzt pirates across from them are buying it.

I'll say one thing for Cat. She's as good an actor as Kivian is. Her tears look real and terrified. No wonder it's making Tarekh crazy. I nudge my buddy with my elbow. “You know she's fine with the plan. Kef it all, it was her plan.”

“I know,” Tarekh snarls again, but he doesn't sound pleased. He sounds like he's strangling on the words. A glance over at him shows his jaw is clenched so tight I'm surprised his fangs don't snap off. I don't know why he's so upset. Things are going exactly as we hoped.

At the last station we were at, we heard about a few szzt pirates hanging out at Rakhar IV who had a taste for human females and had acquired a stolen shipment of plas-guns that were supposed to go to a colony three systems over. They're selling the guns to the highest bidder, and right now the ooli are interested.

I keffing hate the ooli, not just because they sided with the Threshians in the war. I hate their faces and their smug attitudes, like mesakkah are primitive idiots just because we've got horns and plated skin instead of the squishy damp surface of their own bodies. Because our brains are slightly smaller than an ooli's brain matter.

But mostly because they sided with the Threshians in the war, let's be honest.

We were all on board with stealing the guns from them. Two loudmouth szzt who were telling everyone on the station that they had expensive contraband weaponry? They're just begging to have it stolen from them. If not by us, then by someone else. Seems a shame to let all that money slip away, so we decided to hatch a plan. And so far it's working perfectly.

Kivian would do his foolish song and dance, pretending to be a petty outer-rim lordling instead of the pirate he is. He'd show up in his gaudiest clothing with his human pet at his side, lose badly at sticks, and lose Cat to them. Once she's on their ship, Cat'll override their shields with a chip that Sentorr made for her and we've trained her how to use. She knows where to insert it in their ship’s circuitry and how to activate it. She's got the thing tucked into her mouth right now, and she's got weapons stashed all over her flimsy little costume. Even the collar she's wearing is reverse-engineered so she can shock other people with it instead of it being used against her. The pale flesh she's showing has been coated with a reagent that will make her captors sleepy and unable to get their cocks erect. She's in no danger. Once she gets on board, she'll put them to sleep and then we take over their ship, disable it, politely lift the goods, and then go on our way. It's a simple plan, made all the more beautiful because it's their own greedy foolishness that'll get these szzt into trouble.

I love it. I wish I had more heads to break, but it’s still a good plan and I like the idea of taking guns from the Threshians. Plus, I’m hoping the szzt give us a fight and refuse to come calmly. That’ll let me work off some nervous energy.

I shift on my feet, cracking my knuckles again as I watch Cat weep copious tears. The lead of her chain is handed over to one avid-looking szzt male. Kivian leans back in his chair, looking for all the world as if he's surprised that he's managed to lose at sticks. Cat jerks on the chain, protesting, and one of the szzt grabs her jaw in its clawed grip, making her go still.

Tarekh starts forward.

This is exactly what I'm here to prevent. A bar brawl might be my favorite thing in the world, but right now it'd serve no purpose. I grab Tarekh and jerk him backward before he charges into the cantina and gives away that we're Kivian's crew and not just a couple of drinkers hiding out in a corner. “Don't. This is exactly what is supposed to happen. We'll get to knock heads later.”

The medic’s eyes widen at me, his nostrils flaring, and for a moment, I think that the only fight I’m going to get tonight is the one Tarekh’s going to give me. There’s murderous rage in his eyes, and I give him a gleeful smile, baring my own fangs. Daring him to attack.

Just one good punch. That’s the only excuse I need. Tarekh’s my friend, but I’ll welcome any chance to use my fists, any opportunity to get some of this rage out of my head.

“Can you two quit your dick-swinging for five minutes?” Fran’s voice pipes into the comm chip hidden in the shell of my ear. “Kivian’s getting up from the table. Lay low and we watch to make sure they take Cat back to their ship.”

I grin at Tarekh with unholy glee, daring him to take a swing at me anyhow. I’m itching for a good fight. Any fight. “Do it,” I taunt him.

He snorts and turns away from me, his gaze searching the cantina. His body tenses. “They’re taking her away.”

“And they’re headed in the direction of the szzt ship, so that’s a good sign,” Fran chimes in. “All right. I’ll tell Kivian to change out of his fancypants gear and into something that can take a few splatters of blood. You two get into position. Sentorr’s got the ship fueled and ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

“I can speak for myself,” Sentorr says drily into the comm. He sounds as stuffy as ever, and I know it bothers him that not only is Fran crew now, but she’s helping out in jobs. He really hates that. I guess it’s different when the females are just bedwarmers. Me, I appreciate a good feisty female. Cat and Fran have slowly won me over because they’re the most stubborn, irritating, headstrong females I’ve ever met, human or no. Sentorr’s still coming around. Even now, his voice sounds frosty. “But yes, as the human said, we’re fueled.”

I nod at nothing in particular. “We’ll follow behind, then.”

After all, maybe Cat will fight the szzt in the halls to the docking bay and we’ll get to fight anyhow.

* * *

We follow down the twisty passages of the station. Rakhar IV has musty-smelling recycled air that makes my nose twitch, but I don’t complain. Even the stink of this place is better than others I’ve experienced. Nothing’s as bad as the atmosphere on Thresh II, and on bad days, I wake up smelling it coming out of my pores, as if I’m still there, dug down in a terraforming trench, waiting for a rescue ship that never comes. But then again, I always connect everything back to Thresh II, even though it’s been years and years since I saw that ugly keffing planet.

Some things you just never forget.

It’s quiet as Tarekh and I approach the docking bay that the szzt are occupying. Their ship’s a small junker, the outside deceivingly bland and unassuming. Those are the best kinds of ships to pirate in. Just look at ours. The Lovesick Fool has a ridiculous name and a benign appearance. We’re not sleek like a planetary racer. We’re not armored like a war vessel or covered in guns. Least, not as far as most can tell. Tarekh, Sentorr and I have spent years modifying the ship for that specific appearance. So it doesn’t surprise me to see that the szzt’s Bringer of Many Joys is nondescript.

There’s no sign of Cat and her captors, but the engines are humming, as if prepping to take off. “Looks like they’ve boarded,” I tell Tarekh.

He makes a strangled sound in his throat, and I know this is difficult for him. “Let’s get on the Fool so we can follow them.”

We head back to the Fool, which is docked a few bays over. Tarekh immediately heads for the bridge, no doubt so he can watch Sentorr monitor Cat’s vitals and position on ship through the injectable device placed under the skin of one underarm. Me, I stay by the hatch even when we dock and start cruising away from the station. I wouldn’t be able to sit anyhow. I’m too keyed up. Too ready to fight. I mentally go through my weapons over and over again. There’s a knife at my hip, but I rarely use it. Ends a fight too quick. Same with my blaster that’s holstered at my belt. Can’t use that today because the junker they’re using is an older class and not blaster-proof. So it’s knives or fists. I prefer to use my fists and I pull on my favorite gloves, the ones with reinforced metal over the knuckles so my hits can hurt more. I flex my hands, pleased. This is—

“Get me the fuck out of here!”

Cat’s voice hisses over the comm, cutting through my thoughts.

I straighten and push away from the wall, frowning. The plan was to follow the others deeper into space, far away from Rakhar IV—or far enough that the disabled, drifting junker wouldn’t be found by authorities until we were well out of the system. Cat hasn’t been on their ship long enough for the station to be out of sight.

“Cat? Love, tell me what’s wrong,” Tarekh immediately responds, and I can hear the tension through the comm. Ten credits says he’s practically shoved Sentorr away from his control panels in his effort to try to “help” his mate.

“This place is not cool! Not at all! I need you to come get me. Now!” Her voice rises a hysterical note. “They left me in the cargo bay and put me in a cage and it’s dark—”

“We should have sent her with a flashlight,” someone murmurs. Fran.

“—And no, the dark is fine. But like…I can smell meat! Dead things! Lots of dead things! And I am freaking the fuck out!” Her voice catches. “So please, please. Come and get me. I don’t care if we get this job. I can’t do this. I can’t—”

“We’re coming,” Tarekh says firmly.

“Now hold on,” Kivian protests. “We’re far too close—”

“We’re coming,” Tarekh repeats. “It’s keffing final. I’m coming for you, baby. Just find a wall and put your back to it.”

“Okay. Okay. Okay.” Cat chants to herself, then we hear an intake of breath. “Oh god, I touched something wet. And warm. Tarekh!”

“Kiv, get me over there, now,” Tarekh growls into the comm.

“I’m standing two lengths away from you,” Kivian says. “You don’t have to talk into the comm—”

“Yes, I do. Baby, I am coming for you. We’re going to board right now. I swear to you.”

“Okay,” Cat says in a small voice, and I can hear her shudder through the comm. “Please come get me. Please.” She sounds far more delicate and frightened than I’ve ever heard her. No wonder Tarekh’s alarmed. Cat’s been claws and fire ever since she boarded the Fool. To hear her like this is unnerving.

I flex my hands in my gloves. “I’m ready.”

“We’re doing this early, then?” Kivian asks.

“No question,” Fran says. “You’re overruled, babe.”

Sentorr is silent. Then, he says, “I can pull the Fool closer. Cat, do you have the chip still?”

I hear the sound of someone sucking in deep breaths. “I…yes.”

“Kef the chip,” Tarekh growls.

“No,” Sentorr says coldly. “If you want to get her back quickly, she needs to pry off the ventilation panel like we showed her and crawl through to find the wire connections. From there, she just needs to insert the chip and activate it. That’s the easy way to do things. If we do them the hard way, it’s going to take that much longer.”

“Okay,” Cat whispers. I hear her sniffle. “Okay. I can do this.”

Two seconds later, a wild-eyed Tarekh appears at the hatch. He’s got an enormous blaster in his hands, and the look on his face is stony and determined. His tail flicks madly, and he looks as if he’d tear through the hull of the Fool in a second if it meant getting to Cat faster.

I nod at him. “You need to leave that behind.”

“Kef you.”

“You want to blast a hole in the middle of their ship and space your mate?” Kef, why am I the reasonable one? I’m the hothead. The fists. This is bizarre.

His nostrils flare, and I can practically hear his teeth grind. In my ear, Cat sobs through the comm, and Tarekh’s tail flicks back and forth with every aching cry she makes. I get it. She’s his mate and she’s in danger…or she’s not in danger and just being cowardly, but that doesn’t sound like Cat. We have to get to her. That’s all there is to it. I’ve known the big medic for years and years, but I’ve never seen him so agitated. For a moment, it looks like he’s going to shoot me with the keffing blaster, but then he slowly lowers it, just a touch.

I move forward. “We’re gonna get her, ugly. Just calm down.” I ease the blaster from his hands. “You know she’s not hurt. She’s just panicking.”

“Cat never panics,” Tarekh growls, but he lets me take the gun. “Never.”

“I know. Which is why we’re getting her sooner.” I move to one of the arms lockers and tuck the plas-rifle safely away, then palm the lock to seal it once more.

“Promise me,” Tarekh says in a low voice. When I glance over, he continues. “Promise me that if she’s dead, you’ll put an end to me, too. I won’t live knowing that I failed her.”

I stare at him. We’ve been through a lot, he and I, and Tarekh’s always been light-hearted and easy-going. This isn’t him. But I’ve never been mated. I don’t understand what it’s like. This sits wrong with me.

But I also know what it’s like to want to die. So I nod.