wouldn’t we wind up just catching those Rackenspries?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Might catch the ringleader, although I doubt it. That’s the sort of thing flunkies usually do.” He chewed thoughtfully on a fingertip. “I guess we could torture them and make them talk.”
“You can’t be serious,” Roncas snapped. “That’s, that’s—”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is inhumane,” he said. “That is, if you happen to be Terran. Come to think of it, that’s the Stantongue word for it too.” He sat for a moment, staring off into space. Then his expression changed, becoming quite devious. “Aw…it couldn’t be that easy.”
“What?” Kim prompted.
“We’ll buy them off,” he announced. “I’m sure I can pay them more than those other thugs can. My business might be more legitimate than theirs, but I bet they don’t charge as much per hour as I did.”
Jatki stared at him. “Exactly what kind of business are you in?”
“Haven’t figured that out yet, huh?” Roncas snickered. “He’s a hooker.”
“I am not a hooker!” Onca insisted. “Hookers stand out on street corners trolling for customers. I am a highly paid private entertainer seen by appointment only. Women waited years to spend an hour with me.”
Roncas rolled her eyes. “He’s a hooker .”
“ Was ,” Onca snapped. “I’m retired, remember?”
“Yeah, well, you might have to go back to work to pay off those Racks,” Roncas said. “And don’t even think about revoking my bonus or I’ll sic the Brothel Guild on you.”
Kim glanced at Jatki. “Can you tell they’ve been working together too long?”
Jatki replied with a weak smile, which was an improvement of sorts.
“How did they get you to swallow that beacon, anyway?” Kim asked.
“Said they’d kill me if I didn’t,” Jatki replied. “Besides, it was wrapped up in a piece of bread. I was hungry.”
“Poor kid,” Onca said. “And here we are making you eat tholuka berries.”
“I don’t mind,” Jatki said. “I’d like to get that beacon out of me anyway. It’s a creepy feeling, knowing I can be tracked.”
“Better stay away from Terra Minor,” he said with a chuckle. “Immigrants have a tracking implant inserted into the base of their skulls when they land there. Keeps the riffraff in line—or so they think. Doesn’t always guarantee compliance with the rules, though.”
Kim shuddered. “Sounds terrible.”
“I’m told it’s painless, although I don’t see how it could be. By the way, that’s where you’d have to go to collect your share of that trust fund I was telling you about.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Zetithians are exempt from the implants. And you don’t have to stay there if you don’t want to. But since it was designated as the new Zetithian homeworld, that’s where everything’s headquartered, including the database from the refugee ship, which has just about every scrap of data there is pertaining to Zetith. Amelyana lives there. I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”
“Who’s Amelyana?”
Onca grimaced. “Technically, she’s the one who about got us all killed—but she did manage to save a few of us. She was Rutger Grekkor’s wife. Took a Zetithian lover—the son of the Zetithian ambassador to some planet or other. Anyway, after Grekkor killed that guy, she went to Zetith to find another lover.”
“You’d think she’d have learned from her first mistake,” Kim said.
“Yeah, well, that’s the problem, see? We’re not only the best lovers in the galaxy, we’re sort of addicting.” He held up a hand as if to silence any protests she might have made. “Trust me, it’s true. And I’m not the one who said it.
“Grekkor was so stinking rich, he paid an army of mercenaries to kill us off. As you might’ve guessed, he was a little nutso. After they blew up any means we had of getting off the planet, they diverted an asteroid to crash into
“Maybe. Maybe not. Might catch the ringleader, although I doubt it. That’s the sort of thing flunkies usually do.” He chewed thoughtfully on a fingertip. “I guess we could torture them and make them talk.”
“You can’t be serious,” Roncas snapped. “That’s, that’s—”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is inhumane,” he said. “That is, if you happen to be Terran. Come to think of it, that’s the Stantongue word for it too.” He sat for a moment, staring off into space. Then his expression changed, becoming quite devious. “Aw…it couldn’t be that easy.”
“What?” Kim prompted.
“We’ll buy them off,” he announced. “I’m sure I can pay them more than those other thugs can. My business might be more legitimate than theirs, but I bet they don’t charge as much per hour as I did.”
Jatki stared at him. “Exactly what kind of business are you in?”
“Haven’t figured that out yet, huh?” Roncas snickered. “He’s a hooker.”
“I am not a hooker!” Onca insisted. “Hookers stand out on street corners trolling for customers. I am a highly paid private entertainer seen by appointment only. Women waited years to spend an hour with me.”
Roncas rolled her eyes. “He’s a hooker .”
“ Was ,” Onca snapped. “I’m retired, remember?”
“Yeah, well, you might have to go back to work to pay off those Racks,” Roncas said. “And don’t even think about revoking my bonus or I’ll sic the Brothel Guild on you.”
Kim glanced at Jatki. “Can you tell they’ve been working together too long?”
Jatki replied with a weak smile, which was an improvement of sorts.
“How did they get you to swallow that beacon, anyway?” Kim asked.
“Said they’d kill me if I didn’t,” Jatki replied. “Besides, it was wrapped up in a piece of bread. I was hungry.”
“Poor kid,” Onca said. “And here we are making you eat tholuka berries.”
“I don’t mind,” Jatki said. “I’d like to get that beacon out of me anyway. It’s a creepy feeling, knowing I can be tracked.”
“Better stay away from Terra Minor,” he said with a chuckle. “Immigrants have a tracking implant inserted into the base of their skulls when they land there. Keeps the riffraff in line—or so they think. Doesn’t always guarantee compliance with the rules, though.”
Kim shuddered. “Sounds terrible.”
“I’m told it’s painless, although I don’t see how it could be. By the way, that’s where you’d have to go to collect your share of that trust fund I was telling you about.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Zetithians are exempt from the implants. And you don’t have to stay there if you don’t want to. But since it was designated as the new Zetithian homeworld, that’s where everything’s headquartered, including the database from the refugee ship, which has just about every scrap of data there is pertaining to Zetith. Amelyana lives there. I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”
“Who’s Amelyana?”
Onca grimaced. “Technically, she’s the one who about got us all killed—but she did manage to save a few of us. She was Rutger Grekkor’s wife. Took a Zetithian lover—the son of the Zetithian ambassador to some planet or other. Anyway, after Grekkor killed that guy, she went to Zetith to find another lover.”
“You’d think she’d have learned from her first mistake,” Kim said.
“Yeah, well, that’s the problem, see? We’re not only the best lovers in the galaxy, we’re sort of addicting.” He held up a hand as if to silence any protests she might have made. “Trust me, it’s true. And I’m not the one who said it.
“Grekkor was so stinking rich, he paid an army of mercenaries to kill us off. As you might’ve guessed, he was a little nutso. After they blew up any means we had of getting off the planet, they diverted an asteroid to crash into
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