“Yes, my spitfire?”
“Why don’t you fuck off and go pick out your ship?” She smiles sweetly at me.
“I will not leave you.”
“I think you will, if you want me dressed up for the baron.”
Maggie puts her hands on her hips. I know she has the pulsar pistol, but other than that one weapon, she has no way of defending herself. Only me.
However, from the look in her eyes, she isn’t going to take a refusal for an answer, and I doubt very much I’m going to get her out of this vendor without being envenomated.
“I will wait outside.”
“You will do no such thing,” the vendor says. “I do not want a great warrior cluttering up my doorway.”
“I’m sure you have other things you want to purchase, given the baron gave you free rein,” Maggie says. “I’ll be fine here.”
I huff out a hot breath, and there are a couple of sparks.
“Out!” the vendor shouts at me. “Out before you destroy all my stock!” She grabs a long stick with something fuzzy on the end and pokes me with it.
Maggie has dissolved into laughter as I get several more pokes before I step out of the airlock and it closes in my face. The vendor glares at me through the small porthole, and I’m sure I can still hear Maggie laughing.
“I hear you’re in the market for a galaxy class ship,” a voice says from behind me.
I spin on the spot, my shifted tail nearly knocking over the small Paralnyi behind me. It wears a tiny jacket in a brown color, almost matching its fur.
“What would you know about ships?” I snarl at it.
“I know enough.” It inspects its tiny paw. “And I know you don’t want to be going to any other vendors in Xracak City.”
“And why would that be?”
“Because they’re all in the pay of the baron, and whatever you get is unlikely to take you to the nearest moon, let alone where you need to go,” it says. “I’m Crezi.” He looks me up and down. “And you’re a Sarkarnii warlord.”
“Nev off,” I reply.
“How about you see what I have for sale first?”
“I’ve never met a Paralnyi vendor, and I doubt you have anything for sale,” I growl, looking over my shoulder at the airlock again.
Crezi wrinkles his snout, the fur rippling.
“Suit yourself,” he says, walking away from me. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He gets to the end of the passage before I call out.
“Wait.”
The creature stops in his tracks.
“Perhaps we can do a deal, after all.” I grin at him with all of my teeth and get the satisfaction of seeing him shiver, just a little bit.
MAGGIE
The shop owner, Hetty, who informs me she is a species called the Luna, is extraordinarily good at her job and super efficient too.
She uses a measuring device, similar to the one on the clothing maker Scarlett is fond of, and in no time at all, she has a selection of outfits for me to try.
