When She Dances

"I am." The elderly alien man turns his head toward us, but by the way his gaze roams right past us, I get the sense that he can't quite see where we're at.

"I brought my female with me," Zakoar says, his tone hard and blunt. "You touch her and I'll keffing kill you."

I blink in surprise at that fierce statement, letting Zakoar shepherd me toward a chair behind the desk. But the client only chuckles. "She must be very pretty then for you to warn me like that."

"Beautiful," Zakoar admits, and his hand smooths over my hair. "Wait here."

I'm not sure if that command is for me or the client, but neither of us moves. Zakoar heads to the wall behind me, pushes a secret panel open, and then puts his hand on a pad. He types something in and then the entire wall slides backward, revealing what looks like a med-lab setup and a wall covered with prosthetic limbs neatly organized in cubbyholes. I watch as Zakoar moves to the med-lab and powers it up, the machines humming to life. A long tube extends out of the wall slowly, reminding me of CAT scan machines back on Earth.

"Eyes, right?" Zakoar asks.

I glance over at the elder mesakkah with the visor on his face. He isn't watching Zakoar, his gaze still on nothing at all. "Don't you want to know my name?"

"No," Zakoar says bluntly. "The less I know about you, the better it is for both of us."

"Ah." The alien man smiles. "Eyes, yes. Visor doesn't work like it used to. Thought I'd like to see again and heard you were the one to talk to."

Zakoar taps a few more buttons and then glances over at me, as if reassuring himself that I'm all right. I give him a faint smile of encouragement and sit back in the chair, indicating that I'm settling in. He relaxes at that, then crosses the room over to the older man. "Can I see your visor?"

"Of course." The man reaches up and takes it off, and underneath, his eyes are nothing but scars. I shouldn't be surprised, but the sheer brutality of this universe never fails to startle me.

Zakoar studies the visor, then makes a noise of assent. "Not a bad model, but outdated. I can fix this up for you if you'd rather. It'd be cheaper than prosthetic eyes. Less dangerous, too."

The older man immediately shakes his head, big horns drawing my eye. "No, I want the eyes," he says. "I've had that visor for near thirty years now and it's caused me nothing but problems. I think I'd like to spend the last part of my life seeing everything."

"Tikosa told you the price?"

"He did."

Zakoar grunts. "If you're pleased with my work afterward, we can talk about how much you want for the visor. I'll buy it off of you." When the man nods, Zakoar taps his shoulder. "Give me five minutes to get everything ready."

I watch as Zakoar heads back into the med-lab section and touches the wall. Immediately, the room I'm in is closed off, a glass partition unfolding and separating the two of us. He bends over his work, completely focused on the machines. I'm smiling to myself as I watch from this side of the glass, because I see that same focused intensity on his face right now as I do when we're in bed together.

"Has he worked on you before?" The voice is soft, a little wobbly.

I glance over in surprise at the elderly mesakkah. "M-me?"

The man nods, gesturing at his scarred eye-sockets. "I can't see anything. Even with the visor, it'd just tell me where you're at, not what you look like. Do you have prosthetics, too?"

"No," I admit. "But he's the best at what he does." I don't know that for certain, but I can guess, based on how big his apartment is and how well-respected Zakoar is on the station. Everyone speaks of him with pride and a hint of reverence. "You're in good hands."

The older man smiles faintly. "Doesn't mean I'm not scared." He chuckles. "It's been a long time since I've been under the knife, and the last one didn't go well at all." His tail moves in restless flicks behind him. "I heard he has to go into your brain, wire everything up…" He swallows hard. "I know the risks. Told myself I'm okay with them, but now that I'm sitting here, I'm wondering if I'm an old fool."

My heart aches for the man. I notice now that he's sweating, and one of his big hands clenches and unclenches against his tunic, trembling ever so slightly. I move to his side and sit down in the empty chair next to him, then take his hand in mine. He squeezes it so tight I'm pretty sure I'll have bruises, but he calms at my touch. "I promise you that he's amazing. Zakoar can do anything. If there's someone in the galaxy you can trust to keep you safe, it's him."