I pass by a cantina with dancing females in the window and both Zebah and Helen pause, which makes me have to drag them both forward. Then we head down the side hall toward my destination. From the outside, Zakoar’s shop looks like a run-down repair hub. Broken electronics and ship, sled, and weapon parts are scattered on tables out front, and inside they cover every scrap of surface, some even hanging from the ceiling. Table after table is littered with what looks like garbage from Jerrok’s satellite, and behind the counter is a young male mesakkah with a pair of thick goggles over his eyes as he lasers an old data-pad open. He doesn’t look up. “Be right with you.”
Helen’s ooli face wrinkles up in displeasure. “It smells like grease in here. Grease and burned things.”
It does. But that’s how Zakoar’s shop always smells. People like Jerrok scrap things and pull them from wrecks, and Zakoar cobbles them together, uses the parts, and makes things work again. He sells data-pads and blasters on the cheap, engines for old air-sleds, comm unit pieces that stopped being manufactured years ago…and he sells prosthetics, but that part of the business is under the table. I move toward Tikosa, who sits at the counter, and when he puts his laser tool away, I slide a few credits across the counter. “I need to talk to Zakoar.”
He pushes them back toward me. “No, you don’t.”
Unexpected. I push a few more credits in his direction, adding to the pile. “I really do.”
“He’s not taking any business today. He’s busy.” Tikosa ignores the credits, picking up another data pad with a cracked screen and examining it closely.
Zebah saunters forward and leans across the counter, the tip of her tail sneaking out from under her cloak and sliding across toward Tikosa suggestively. “Hey. Remember me? You can’t do this little favor for your favorite female?”
He looks up, blinks at Zebah, and then pulls the goggles off his face to squint at her. Then he groans, horrified. “Not you. Not again.” He turns to me with a wary expression. “Stay clear of this one, friend. She brings danger wherever she goes.”
Zebah scoffs. “Does this mean you’re not happy to see me?”
“After you got me drunk on ooli brew and stole my credits? No, no I’m not.” His face is flushed a deep blue of frustration. “And now your party is really not seeing my master.”
I politely put my hands on Zebah’s shoulders and steer her away from the counter. “She’s not really with us. We’re just babysitting her until we can dump her somewhere safe.”
Tikosa snorts. “You should dump her to the next law outpost.” He squints at me. “Wait. I know you—va Sithai, yes? What are you doing with her?” He glares at Zebah and then turns his gaze to Helen. “And that?”
“That is my mate,” I tell him, enjoying the look of confused horror on his face.
Helen’s hands immediately go to my arm and she squeezes it in excitement. “I’m your mate?”
Now I’m the one that’s confused. I gaze down at her and then lean in so she can give me a kiss. “Did you think you weren’t?”
“Can you two please not do that in here?” Tikosa asks, getting up from his chair. “Bad enough I have to watch Zakoar and Tessa go at it all day. Now this.”
“I know,” Zebah adds, making gagging noises. “So gross, right?”
It’s been a while since I’ve seen Zakoar of the Broken Back, but I’m pretty sure he’d want to see me. I add a few more credits to the pile and lean in. “Unless you want me to break a dozen hygiene laws with my ooli mate here right in front of your counter, and scare off all your customers, you’ll take me to see Zakoar. I have some very urgent business I need to discuss with him. Human business.”
The male mesakkah sighs and sweeps the credits toward himself and then holds a hand out to Zebah. “Give those back.” She grumps but releases the credits she somehow snatched away when I wasn’t looking. Tikosa pockets them and glares at me. “I’ll have you know that I don’t care what you and your ooli bride do, but you should have led with the human business thing. Come on.” He pauses. “And if you see something you’re not supposed to, don’t blame me.”
CHAPTER 55
HELEN
The first thing I smell when we get into Zakoar of the Broken Back’s private office is sex. Lots and lots of sex. It has a pervasive smell of bodies and sweat and musk, and it’s everywhere. The office itself has the door closed, and we wait in what looks like a lab. There are more metal parts here, and a few beds and a wall full of important-looking computer-type equipment.