“You want me to kidnap a man, hold him at blaster point and force him to marry you. That’s great and I can totally do that, but then what? You don’t think he’s going to be mad? You think he’s going to stay?”
She’s right. I stare at her, and my lower lip starts to wobble. “It’s just…I don’t know what else to do. I have to get someone to help me protect my land. Marriage is the best way to do it. I thought maybe if he was kind we could work past that.” I grab a napkin and wipe at my face, trying to stop the tears.
Bethiah rubs a hand down her face, sighing heavily. “Kef me. Why do I get the weird jobs?” She takes a deep breath, then composes herself. “Okay. Fine. Let me see what I can do for you.”
“Thank you,” I tell her gratefully. I reach out and squeeze her hand, enthused. “I’m sure you’ll find just the right man for me.”
The bounty hunter gazes at my face for a long moment, then shakes her head. “Kef me.”
3
NASSAKTH
The bounty hunter that the little human met with earlier lingers in port. I watch her all day, noticing she runs a few errands from business to business, all very normal seeming. She picks up freshly cleaned clothes. She visits the general store. She books a flight at the docks. Then, she retreats back to the cantina.
I find her at the bar. It is night, which means a few of the other unsavory types that frequent Risda Spaceport are here, nursing drinks. The bounty hunter stands at the bar easily, unconcerned about the glances she gets. She looks as if she can take care of herself and she knows it.
I move to her side and gesture at the bartender, ordering a local ale. Then, I glance over at the bounty hunter.
She tilts her head at me, taking another sip of her frothy beer. “I was wondering when you were going to show up.”
Her words surprise me. I look around.
“Yes, you. You’re not as stealthy as you think.” The blue female mesakkah rolls her eyes. “Hard for a praxiian to hide out in these parts. You don’t exactly blend.”
It is true. While most races are taller than the dainty humans, praxiians are built differently. We have large, hulking shoulders, strong barrel bodies, and long tails. More than that, my gray fur sets me apart from the blue-skinned mesakkah that are so common in these parts. It sets me apart, as does the fact that my clothes are tight and ill-fitting, as if made for someone else.
Probably because they were. An escaped fugitive such as myself is low on options, and clothing is not a particularly relevant need, especially on a farm planet in the outer reaches such as Risda III.
“What gave me away?” I ask, because I need to know for the future. Even though I’m no longer a gladiator, I still take away what I can from my training. I discover what caused my defeat and I correct it.
The bounty hunter shrugs. She taps a long finger on her glass. “Praxiians have a certain smell. When I smell that everywhere I go, it’s not hard to put things together.”
“There are plenty of praxiians here,” I bluff.
“There are five on the entire planet, and three of them are homesteaders. Given that it’s not raining, I imagine they’re at home taking care of their crops. Number four is currently in jail. It’s not hard to figure out who number five is.” She gives me a dismissive look. “So what do you want from me?”
I hesitate, then decide I have to know, regardless. “I want to know what job the little human female hired you for.”
“Saw that, did you?” When I nod, she shrugs and drains her beer, then pushes the empty glass in my direction. I order her another and then wait, expectant. It’s not until she finishes her second drink that she finally looks over at me again. “Why should I tell you?”
I fight back the hiss growing in my throat. I can’t snarl at this female—I need her help. My tail twitches angrily, even though I keep my expression calm. “I am looking after her.”
“Are you, now.”
She doesn’t believe me. I drum my claws on the bar. “I am…trying to instigate a courtship with the female. So far she has ignored me.”