“Oooh,” Zebah coos, striding forward and planting her hands on my other side. She grabs my tail, shocking me, and plasters herself to the front of my chest. “Are we making plans for later tonight? It’s my turn to be on top.” She leans in closer, pretending like she’s going to rub noses with Bethiah. “We have someone following us,” she says through a frozen smile. “Hands on your weapons. Be ready.”
Bethiah just snorts and pinches Zebah’s nose. “If we didn’t, this wouldn’t be the Belly.”
I lean in toward Zebah. “Get your hand off my tail or Helen will chew your fingers off later.”
She immediately lets me go and I decide it’s not a bad idea to pretend to be a playboy. I keep my arms around the shoulders of both females, trying to make it seem like we’re three bored mesakkah out for a seedy adventure. “All right. Show me some human flesh.”
“Right this way,” Bethiah says, heading down a dark, clammy hall. There’s a light flickering overhead, which just adds to the sensation that this is a terrible idea.
The moment I see the slavers, my heart sinks. I see the males standing in front of huddled clusters of people, all chained together and crouching against a wall. To a one, they’re filthy and abused. I see bruises on ooli skin. I see scarred praxiians and szzt females. I see very few mesakkah, and as we go farther in, I see the humans. I see humans of all colors, shapes and sizes. I see male humans and female humans. I see some wearing plas-linen wraps, and some wearing nothing at all, shivering and crouched against their brethren.
There are so keffing many of them.
One female looks up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, her face covered in yellow and purple bruises, and her expression is so hopeless that for a moment, I see Zoey all over again. I see my sister in chains as a child, stolen from her home. I see Helen, too, and the humans from the Buoyant Star. And I swallow hard, because I didn’t think this through. I didn’t realize at the time that I said I would go after the cloning ring that this would cut my heart out of my chest.
And I didn’t bring nearly enough credits to buy all of them…but I’m absolutely not going to leave them behind.
So I start counting heads.
Zebah glances up at me, unaware of what I’m thinking. “So what are we looking for? Thick? Thin? Male? Female? A sassy personality? Big mammaries?”
I count forty-seven humans that I can immediately see. That…could be a problem. Credits-wise, I don’t know that I have enough. Ship-wise, the Sister would burn so much keffing fuel hauling them away from this station, much less the air filters we’d go through. And yet another begins to cry, her jerking sobs carrying over the hum of the crowd, and I can’t stand this.
Okay. I’m going to need a moment to figure this out. “New plan,” I say quietly to my companions. “We’re going to buy up some humans.”
“We are?” Zebah asks, frowning up at me. “How many?”
“All of them. I’m not leaving them here.”
She groans with annoyance. “You can’t save the universe, va Sithai.”
I can’t. She’s right. But I also can’t walk away from this and not see it every time I close my eyes. It’ll be a temporary setback, nothing more. I glance over at Bethiah, and she seems almost stricken at the sight of the humans herself. “I always forget how bad it is down here,” she murmurs, then glances over at me. “So what’s the plan?”
Immediately, one forms in my head. “We’re acquiring party favors for a mesakkah lord who’s going to be throwing a very big celebration. We need as many as we can buy.”
“And of course we’ll have to arrange to pick up the rest with the promise of credits,” Bethiah says sensibly. “After all, you can’t drag a horde of humans through the station. People will talk. You’ll have to meet somewhere in secret.” Her eyes gleam as she spins the story out. “I’m sure there’s a loading dock where all the humans can be herded quietly onto a nice ship and credits can be exchanged away from prying eyes.”
Suddenly I’m glad I brought Bethiah with me. “My thoughts exactly.”
CHAPTER 61
MATHIRAS
We move through the Belly, looking for slavers with humans, and begin to haggle. Bethiah is surprisingly good at it, pulling one male up to his feet and grabbing his jaw, prying his mouth open. “Look at these teeth,” she tells the slaver. “Your goods have been poorly treated. Why would I pay premium prices?”
I stay back, letting Bethiah do the talking, pretending to be Big and Important as Zebah hangs off my arm. She watches the corridors around us, pointing out who has blasters and who lingers too long, watching us.