by Dixon, Ruby
She’s got a point. Even so, I’m not sure I like the thought. “That’s why he needs to be nice. If he’s nice, eventually he’ll understand that I did what I did out of desperation. Then maybe we’ll settle in and become friends.”
“Friends,” Bethiah echoes. The bounty hunter leans in. “You do realize this is the dumbest keffing plan I’ve ever heard of?”
I stiffen. “How is it dumb?”
“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.”
“A praxiian courtship? I can only imagine the horrors.” She grimaces, the tip of her bony, plated nose wrinkling just a bit. “Does it involve batting a ball of yarn in her direction?”
I can feel my tail fluffing in anger, and I clench my jaw. “Very funny. I am interested in the little human but I do not know how to approach her. Until she realizes I am courting her, I am doing my best to look after her from a distance. I do not know if you are aware, but she is very innocent.”
The mesakkah woman finally turns to give me a direct look. “You say innocent, I say she doesn’t have common sense. She won’t last a year out here.”
I bite back another angry snarl. “Kim is very clever. She is doing very well on her farm. You are being unfair to her.”
“No, I’m just practical. Look. You said you were a gladiator?” The bounty hunter cocks her head at me. “You of all people know how long people like her last without a protector.”
“I would be her protector,” I say stiffly. “I have let her know my intentions. Now I must wait for her to acknowledge them.”
“Well, she must not like your intentions, because she’s asked me to find her a husband.”
I sputter. “She what?”
“Hired a bounty hunter to kidnap her a husband,” the woman says coolly. “You want to talk about her common sense again?”
I consider this. If what she says is true, Kim is putting herself in danger. Hiring a bounty hunter to kidnap a husband for a human? A human female that is already in danger every day thanks to the cruel realities of the outer reaches? If she’s not enslaved again within a year, someone will kill her for her homestead. I have heard a great many detailed stories about how the females here are treated. I know that the mesakkah lord in charge of this planet thinks he is doing a favor to these females by awarding them farms and the equipment to run them, but in my eyes, he is simply setting them up as targets.
And they are being picked off by unscrupulous sorts. Risda III is a good place to hide out, but that also means it harbors a fair amount of galactic scum behind its pastoral views. This woman speaks the truth—Kim has a good heart, but she is still far too trusting. She will place her trust in the wrong person—such as a bounty hunter—and end up being robbed of her purse.
Or worse.
“Did you turn her down?” I ask stiffly. “Tell her that what she asks is foolish?”
“Nope,” the bounty hunter says. “I took her money. Now I just have to find a suitable bachelor.”
I hiss with anger. “Why did you take the job?”
She plunks down her glass and gives me an irritated look. “Because if I stopped and told every client how keffing stupid they were, I’d be broke? Let me give you a tip, friend. A good bounty hunter may think the job is idiotic, but she does it anyhow. All that matters is how many credits are paid, and hers are good.”
I narrow my eyes at the woman. “You mean she paid you already? In full? Before the job is even completed?”
The bounty hunter plays with a bead of condensation on her glass, then gives me a slow smile. “Like I said, I give it a year.”
4
NASSAKTH
I am appalled. I straighten, ignoring the way the fur on my back bristles in challenge. “That was wrong of you to take her credits—”
“Oh goody, I’m going to be lectured by a praxiian,” the woman says in a flat voice. “Remind me what you’re doing out here on this backwater planet, my innocent friend?” She flicks a bead of water on my fur, direc
tly over the scar on my lower arm, where no fur grows.
The scar where I burned away my owner’s brand.
She knows exactly who I am and why I am here on this planet, then. I flick my tail. “You will give Kim her money back.”
“Nope.”
“I am courting her—”
“Then I sure hope you’re faster than whatever poor slob I manage to lock down for her husband.” The bounty hunter taps her chin, looking around. “Say, do you know if any of these men are unmarried? Maybe that szzt that works in the kitchen? He looks like he needs to get laid.”
My ears swivel, going nearly flat with distaste. She means to pair sweet Kim with Lthr? Lthr, who served on three pirate ships and somehow mysteriously managed to be the only survivor each time? Lthr, who is well known at the nearest space station’s brothel?
Absolutely not. “I forbid this.”
The bounty hunter sits upright, slowly. Deadly. “You…forbid? I don’t recall asking your advice, friend.”
I point at her. “Kim needs a mate. I will be that mate.”
“She paid me to kidnap someone. I intend to see that through. A deal’s a deal.” The woman waves her credit chip to the bartender, indicating she needs to pay out.
I put my hand over hers when she sets her chip down on the bar. She reaches for the blaster at her hip, then stops with a scowl at the look on my face. “If you must find a husband for Kim, take me.”
“You’re volunteering for a kidnapping?” The woman’s smile quirks and she flings my hand off of hers. “I’m starting to wonder if this entire planet is full of cute little fools.” She gives me an appraising look. “If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t fit her criteria.”
“Because I am praxiian? She asked for a mesakkah?”
The bounty hunter leans in. “Because she asked for someone kind.”
“Kind? I can be kind.” I think for a moment, then revise. “That is, I can learn to be kind.”
“Oh boy. This gets better and better.” She chuckles and then turns away from the bar the moment her credit chip is swiped. “Look, friend, I’m going to let you in on a secret. Humans aren’t worth the hassle. Sure, they’re cute, and they’re nice to pet, but they’re a lot of maintenance. They’re clingy, too. At first you think it’s all fun and games and then they start asking where you’re going, and who you were out with all night, and then they want to know why there’s blood on your collar. Save yourself the trouble of re-homing one later and just get yourself a nice sex bot. Or visit the space station ladies. They’ll do lots of interesting things for the right amount of credits. Trust me on that.” She winks in my direction.
“I do not want a sex bot. I want Kim. I have many heart-feelings for her.” I put my fist over my heart. “You should kidnap me to be her mate. I will go easily.”
The bounty hunter sighs heavily. “With those ears, you’d think you’d be a good listener, but no. Okay, let me ask you a question. Why are you here on this planet?”
“To…farm.”
“No, friend. I did not fall off the back of a loading dock. Why don’t you tell me the truth and spare us both a bit of running around?”
I hesitate, then decide to be truthful. “I was a gladiator. I did not like the way my owner treated his slaves, so I killed him and fled.”
She pulls a datapad out of her pocket. “And what was your owner’s name?”
“Why is that important?”
“I’m checking your background, idiot. You said you wanted to be kidnapped, right? I’m not doing anything until I check if you’re a bad call for my sweet, innocent little human idiot.”
If she looks him up, she will see that what I did was a good thing. The ooli that kept me in chains for twenty years was a cruel sort, but worst was the way he treated those who “aged out” of their prime. It did not matter how many battles you won, or how fierce your name. The moment you hit a certain age, you were deemed “worthless” and scheduled for “retirement.” For my old master, retirement meant a slow, ignominious death. You were simply no longer given food portions because you were not deemed worth the bother. This would go on until you died, and then your body would be tossed aside like trash. It did not matter to him if your people believed their spirits would be destroyed if the body was left unburied. It did not matter to him that certain races believe they will only achieve the afterlife if they die in battle. He only cared about his wallet.
I do not regret killing my old master. I only regret I did not kill him sooner.
So I give her his name and lift my chin. I am not proud of many things in my life, but I am proud of destroying that creature.
“I’m going to need some time to check on things. If I decide to kidnap you, I’ll let you know.” The female smirks at me. “I’ll keep in touch.” She grips my forearm in a greeting—or perhaps an agreement. “I’m Bethiah va’Savarr.”
“I am known simply as Nassakth.”
Her eyes widen. “Nassakth from Askorthi Prime?” When I grunt, she looks impressed. “I think I’ve seen one of your matches.” Her hand slides up my forearm and she squeezes my bicep, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You’re still a fine specimen after all these years.”
I grow uneasy. “I appreciate the compliment, but I am only interested in Kim—”
Bethiah jerks her hand away as if burned, then rolls her eyes. “I’m checking the goods, you moron. My little human deserves a good match, you know. I want her to be happy with my choice, just in case she needs some repeat business in the future.” She moves around me, and appears to be checking out my backside.
“She will not need repeat business! I will be her only mate—”
“Are you diseased?” Bethiah asks, ignoring my protests. “Because I know how nasty you gladiators can get. I don’t want her to catch something from you.”
“Not diseased.” My jaw clenches at the insult. “I would never infect her with anything—”
“Except your love, right? Pardon me while I vomit.” She crouches and feels my thigh. “Any old battle wounds I need to be aware of? Cybernetic limbs?”
“No. And no. I would have been put down if I lost a limb.” I was what was known as a “pure” fighter in the gladiator arenas—unassisted by stims or technology.
“Can I ask about your penis?” Bethiah looks up at me.
“It is…grand? I have had no complaints.” I consider for a moment as she continues to feel my leg muscles. “You may check it, as well…if it will help my case.”
She doesn’t even pause, this female. She just reaches up and gropes my cock, then gives a surprised little grunt. “You’re definitely a big boy. Okay, noted.” She gets to her feet and then puts her hand out. “I’ll need to be paid.”
“Paid! But you already charged my female—”
“And if you want to be the man I choose to steal, I’m gonna need some incentive.” She wiggles her fingers, palm out. “Pay up.”
“This is robbery,” I grumble, even as I reach for my wallet.
“No, this is bounty hunting.” She takes my credit chip the moment I pull it out, and pockets it. “I’ll contact you tomorrow and let you know what I decide. Been a pleasure, praxiian.” She moves away from the bar, pulls on my tail, and leaves the place with a jaunty saunter.
I feel as dizzy as if I just escaped a cyclone. That one is trouble, I decide…but if it means I get what I want, then I will embrace trouble.
All I care about getting is Kim.
5
KIM
Each day that passes feels like agony. I mean, how long does it take to kidnap a man? She looked capable, but what if she isn’t? What if she’s not able to bring me a guy and she took all my savings? The thought makes me hyperventilate.
I try to bury myself in fiction instead. To write the next chapter of The Fair Maiden and the Scotsman, but I’m finding it impossible to concentrate. I write a paragraph, then I clean the bathroom. I write another paragraph, then get up and fold laundry. I sweep the flo
ors twice in the same day. I check the harvesters. Pluck fresh flowers for my table. Write another paragraph. Make dinner. Do the dishes. Go back to my datapad and delete all the paragraphs I’ve written so far today and then stare mutinously at my document.
It doesn’t help that the other women that follow along are sending me messages, asking where the next chapter is. How do I tell them I have writer’s block because I’m waiting for a kidnapper?
Doubt creeps in, too.
What if Bethiah is the wrong person for this job? She comes highly recommended from someone who said if I needed a person to “get things done,” Bethiah was the one to call. But…what if I’ve asked for too much? Perhaps I should have put another personal ad out with the port datagram, the Risda version of a local newspaper. I’ve tried that twice so far, to disastrously bad results.
The first man that showed up to my ad for a husband didn’t like my face. Or my body. He was a handsome mesakkah—the big blue sort—and the moment he saw me, his face fell. He asked me all kinds of invasive questions about the human body and how it “holds up” over time and it was clear he’d been expecting someone much younger. Probably bustier, too.
I’d never thought that being in my thirties would be considered over the hill, but on Risda, it seems I’m an old crone.
I wasn’t sad that the mesakkah said we wouldn’t work out and promptly left. A second mesakkah had shown up about a week later, and he was nice and charming to my face and seemed very interested in my land. Never came back, though.
I got the hint after that. Took my ad down and sent a message for Bethiah.
It takes four excruciatingly long days for the bounty hunter to get back with me. A message pops up on my datapad with a bright, happy DING! I nearly drop the fresh bowl of noodles I’ve prepared and barely manage to set them on the counter before grabbing my datapad and scouring it.
Shit!
Bethiah—because that must be who’s contacting me—has sent a message in a language I can’t read.
