CHAPTER 4

 

TAC’MOT

 

“You did WHAT?”

“What was I supposed to do?  Leave her there?  Look at her!”

Lem doesn’t spare a glance to where I set the princess down.  She had tensed up when he’d jumped at us, but there was no need to worry.  Lem wouldn’t hurt a female.

But he will harm me.

Lem stares at me in utter disbelief.  “You’ve spent our entire fortune rescuing a female in distress—one!  A fortune for just one! Tac, it’s an auction planet: you do realize how many species are—”

I give him a pointed look.  “Lem.”

He rips a spare carabiner clip off of his suit and positions it on another loop, seemingly at random.  But the care he takes to do it is a concern.

This is a sign that he’s starting to obsess, and it never ends well.

He adjusts one of his respirator tubes.  “And a Gryfala?  A Gryfala?  How—?  You’ll have to tell me if it’s worth it when she gets us shot out of the sky!  They are not going to believe that you intend to return her back home peaceably.  Not unharmed.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” I say, choosing to adopt a more positive tone than I actually feel.  “They’d never shoot us out of the sky.”  I smile.  “At the very least, they’ll let us dock so they can retrieve their princess first.”

He glares at me.

I make a grab for the Gryfala’s arm as she tries to unobtrusively slink away along the wall.

She scrambles to catch onto my forearm in reaction, as if afraid I’m going to break hers.  I frown.  I already told her I wouldn’t hurt her.  Then I look at her fingers.  Something about their appearance had niggled at me earlier, but I’d been busy watching the crowd.  Now I peer at her hands in disbelief.  “Did they…?”  My voice trails off as I slowly reach out.  I am careful to avoid touching my claws to her skin when I gently clasp her fingertips to pull them even closer to my face.  “Did they clip your nails?”

Lem is examining her shoulders and her back, and she is spinning her head around trying to keep him in sight.  With this one move, it feels like… like she just communicated that she doesn’t consider me to be a threat, or at least not the greatest one in the room.  Ridiculously, warmth fills my chest.

“Forget her nails, they took her wings!  Tac, you spent our combined life savings on only half a Gryfala.”

He isn’t shouting it, but… he doesn’t have to.

And I think back.  I’d been so in my head, thinking of my own saleday but… “Now that you mention it, none of them had wings.  I assumed they bound them so they couldn’t fly out of the pen.”

Lem smooths a hand over a strip of the tape he uses to patch tiny tears in his suit, as a look of disbelief steals over his face.  “The clothing she’s wearing isn’t hiding anything.  And it’s very drab for a Gryfala, isn’t it?  They must have forced her into that outfit at pistol-point.  There isn’t a gem sewn in or a metallic embellishment on any of it.”

Actually, I thought her clothing was very attractive on her, but maybe it is simply her that lends the attraction.  Now that I regard her clothing as critically as he is, I see that it is surprisingly plain.  For a princess.  Or so they say.  “I wouldn’t know.  I’ve never actually seen a Gryfala before today.”

Lem’s eyes narrow.  “Neither have I, but I’ve heard they love shine and glimmer to rival hobwing powder.  Whatever suit they put on this one… maybe it’s some sort of insult we wouldn’t understand.”  His gloved fingers spasm in germ-phobic induced horror.  “I wonder if they washed the garments before they forced her into them…”

My stomachs sink again, more worried about the perceived insult rather than any ‘germs’ her clothing could be harboring.  I’m wondering what she’ll think when all I have to offer her to change into are my own serviceable-but-plain outfits.  Even plainer than what she’s wearing now.  They certainly won’t look as attractive on her as the garments she currently sporting.  It’s likely she will be displeased.

I look down at her and realize... she hasn’t made a single demand yet.  Perhaps their reputation is overblown, and she’ll make do with little complaint.  But even in a practical sense, mine are not going to fit as nicely, and she may wish to simply rewash what she’s wearing every rotation.

I’m trying to work logistics, but Lem’s not about to let go of his curiosity.

“Just what do you believe they did with their wings?”

I think of the auctioneer’s words about having to move more ‘merchandise.’  I stroke the back of the Gryfala’s hand softly, making her eyes shoot up to mine.  I feel bad talking about her like she’s not even here, but she hasn’t tried to add to the conversation even once since we came upon Lem.  I wonder if she’s in shock.

She mostly just keeps staring at him.

In all fairness, he’s openly examining her, as if he has the right.  I grimace, thinking as far as law goes, until we reach her homeland, he does have the right.  Half of it, anyway.

As kindly as I can, I say, “Probably coated them in preservative and they’ll be the next thing they auction off.  They’re going to make a fortune today.”

His jaw locks.  “Apparently, they already have.”

I suppose I had that coming.

But really, he’s taking this all very well.  And… speaking of taking things well, even with us discussing what has to be an insensitive topic about her recent traumatic, painful procedure, the Gryfala doesn’t so much as flinch.

I feel my ears tighten close to my scalp as I consider this.

Lem’s gaze suddenly travels from her to me.  “Fancy becoming part of a Gryfala’s harem?”

I warble.  “A Gryfala with a Wanbaroo.”  I wouldn’t dignify the question, I wouldn’t even waste time stating how unlikely the odds of that ever happening would be… but Lem’s well aware of that so… “Why?”

Instead of answering me, Lem aims his question at the female.  “Would you grant me a favor and let me beat him before you abscond with your new male?”  He scoffs to himself.  “Ironic, considering he owns you, at the moment.  That’ll change.”

“Lem,” I say in disbelief.  “What are you going on about?”

His tone is wry.  “You don’t see the way she’s watching you.  She likes your ears.”

I move all of them, watching her now just to see what she’ll do.  He’s right: she is watching them, but I don’t read desire or possessive feelings on her face.  “I think my appearance alarms you a little.  I’m scaring you, aren’t I?”

She glances at my mouth, but gives no response.

Slowly, Lem inhales.  “Tac?”

I wince.

“Why do you think it is that she’s not talking?”

I scratch my elbow.  “Maybe they took out her translator?”

Lem’s heavy sigh temporarily fogs his face shield.  When it clears, I can see his exasperated expression.  “Tac.  You got an extra translator in your pocket?”

We both stare down at her.

I clear my throat.  “Got any money?”

“You mean the money I sent off with you so you could bank it?  That money?  Tac, we could have lived off of that interest!  Let me guess: you want to go buy a translator now, right?  Why, no issue at all.  Thank you for asking me for permission to spend my half of our savings to buy a translator.  Those don’t cost much, right?  Even if they do, I’d bet it’s NOWHERE NEAR THE FORTUNE YOU SPENT TO BUY THIS—”

See, I knew he was upset.  He needs to let this out.

Frankly, I expected him to explode immediately, but the shock of seeing the Gryfala clearly discombobulated and waylaid him.  The Gryfala in question jerks her hand from mine, stumbling back when his fist connects with my arm.

I punch him back.  His suit makes a puffing noise as it adjusts to the blow.  “Lower your voice!  You’re scaring her!”

He shoves me.  “YOU lower your voice!  Seven solars’ wages you CUD-CHEWING, TREE-SAP-BRAINED—”

I sigh.  He needs to decompress, yet when he gets worked up like this…

Threateningly, I pull out a wrench that I keep in my back-suit pocket for just such an occasion.

Well, not this occasion.  I can say I’ve ever done anything quite so deserving of a fight, but even he should be able to smell that this female is starting to grow fearful.  I’ll be the first to admit I deserve what I have coming, but there’s no need to be uncivil in front of a princess.

I toss the wrench up before catching it mid-air, making Lem’s eyes narrow before he lunges for me again.

A dangerous snarl that promises imminent harm and life threatening injury cuts through our shouting.  “What.  The.  Tevek…”

Metark, I inwardly curse.

Brax is back.