Title: Old Haunts; Book 2, chapter 3
Author: Auna
Rating: PG-13, 'cause I'm very conservative
Credits: scrubschick, shipsister and ScaperRed. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You guys always keep me from embarrassing myself. Sanchez is a wonderful creative consultant and you guys wouldn't get half the story you do without him.
Author's Note: This is shorter than my average chapter. But I reached this point and I thought I should stop. But it was too short and I didn't stop and wrote four more pages. But upon further reflection, I realized it wasn't right, so the adds were saved for later and you're getting a short chapter. (It was a tough decision; there are some really fun moments I wanted to give you guys NOW. But, as ScaperRed and I have said, I am only the scribe and I bow to the story and the characters.)
****************************************************************************
John quietly slipped into the room and closed the door behind him with a soft click. The morning light was just starting to shine through the glass wall across from him, casting a soft glow throughout the room, making the moment almost surreal. Aeryn lay in bed, finally asleep, breathing deeply with her mouth slightly open. She was on her side, her hair a tangled mess around her face and neck.
His throat constricted and he was content to stand and watch her for a moment. She'd been gone most of the night, and he had missed her weight as she used him for a pillow and the lump of her belly in his side. Softly, his steps muted by the thick carpet beneath his boots, he stepped to the bed, to Aeryn's side and knelt beside her.
He needed to wake her up; they were due to leave in half an arn. It had been a grueling half arn of negotiations to get him out of that room, away from Netrijon, and the schedule really needed to be adhered to. But he was reluctant to disturb her. She hadn't slept almost all night, as she held Aeric in her arms and comforted him. He'd gone with her when they'd heard the screams, and he'd watched for a while as she soothed their boy to sleep again. But it was a moment meant for Aeryn and Aeric, and he'd gone back to bed, alone.
He watched her sleep now, fascinated by a strand of hair playing in her breath. When she breathed in, the hair was caught against her lips, held captive by the current. When she breathed out, it flew wildly, dancing in the wind. He smiled. Not much about Aeryn could be described as playful.
He reached out a hand and pulled the hair aside, gently smoothing the long, brown and gray strands into a fan behind her head. Now he could see the dark circles beneath her eyes and he reached out a finger and caressed the evidence of her fatigue, before shifting closer and kissing each eye softly.
Her eyelids fluttered open and, drowsily, she looked at him, only a few inches away. Her lips curved into a smile and he felt his stomach flop. "Hey," he said so softly that he barely heard the whispered word himself.
"Hey," she returned, just as softly. There was magic in the room at that moment, and neither of them wanted to chase it away.
His chin rested on his left forearm on the bed, his right hand twirling her hair through his fingers. "How are you?" He needed to get to business, needed to tell her everything that had already occurred that morning, but he couldn't help but revel a few minutes in the peace.
"I'm fine," she started, but saw the look on his face and stopped. "I'm hungry and my shoulders hurt, and the baby is kicking a lot."
He lifted his chin from his arm and reached out, caressing her stomach. It only took a second before he felt the punch beneath his palm, and he couldn't stop the smile from escaping. He felt like a little boy who'd been handed the best present at Christmas.
He looked back at her, and his smile faded slightly. She was smirking at him, enjoying his pleasure over the baby. But there was sadness there as well. "How is Aeric?" he asked.
Her eyes slightly pooled with tears, but to her credit, none escaped. "He has a lot to deal with. He reminds me of you, and when you first got here."
He nodded, not sure what to say. Everyone had commented on their similarities, both physically and personality-wise. He just prayed that his son would never have to experience everything he had. He was already feeling guilty that Aeric had to learn a lesson he should never have had to. He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers, giving and drawing strength with the contact.
"You are already dressed, which means you've been to see Netrijon," Aeryn finally said, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes. "What did he have to say?"
John sighed, knowing that it was time, but reluctant to let go the moment. "Some group of mercenaries stole their ships. He has the location of the business and is making all the arrangements for us to leave his planet as peacefully as possible."
"Just get us out of his compound, we can handle it from there."
"That's what I told him," John said. "It didn't fly. I don't know what Sethya told this guy, or how he even recognizes me as this supposed emperor, but whatever information he has must make me out to be Attilla the Hun or something. He was falling over himself to retrieve our ships from the township, escort us with fanfare to our ship, the works. I nearly had to threaten a war to get him to back off."
He didn't tell her that originally, when the doors had slammed shut and the soldier had stepped forward, he thought The Elected had figured out they were all frauds and the game was up. What he wasn't prepared for, was the businessman to try to negotiate an alliance, and send his own soldiers with them. He felt that his reputation had been smeared, and that by attacking Klune, he would show his clients that he would not tolerate such behavior.
John had to whip up some long-unused negotiating skills, and talk him down to keep him from tagging along. He missed Rygel at that point. The little slug had some useful skills occasionally.
"How long until we leave?" she asked.
"About a quarter arn."
"All right," she said, heaving herself up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. John had to duck out of the way, to keep from being kicked. "I need to get moving then." She paused, her face losing color and she lifted a hand to her mouth. Knowing what to do, John jumped to his feet and grabbed a bowl of fruit on a table next to the bed.
Dumping the contents onto the floor he threw the bowl under her face, just in time for her to heave. She hadn't eaten since dinner the previous night, and there was nothing left to bring up but water. Soon, that was exhausted and she was dry heaving. She held onto the bowl, as if it were a security blanket, her arms wrapped around the base.
He had gotten a drying cloth from their bathroom and soaked it in cool water, returning to her and wiping her face. He could be useful at times.
"I sat up too fast," she said miserably.
"I know."
"And now we'll be late."
"We're fine," he lied, knowing everyone was going to be waiting for them. By everyone, he meant the entire company of soldiers that were waiting to escort them from the compound in grandeur, as they left to go fight a heroic battle in the name of Netrijon and Thasnoidian.
Screw them. The Empress was throwing up, and the Emperor staying here with her. The minions could wait.
--------------------------------------------------------
Where the hezmana were they? She was getting frustrated and angry over this whole waste of time, and she was pacing on the platform near the exit. She was with Aeric, Brennik, and D'Argo, all on display before an entire contingent of Jivihsten soldiers waiting to escort them from this compound and through the Wyrmlands to safety. They were to ride on ornamental chariots in a blaze of horns that would have made John's earth buglers envious.
If her son wasn't missing, it would have been fun. But he was missing. And Aeryn and John were taking their time showing up so they could get off this frelling planet. For the millionth time, she stopped and looked toward the entrance. "What time is it?" she asked.
"Thirty microts since the last time you asked," D'Argo said. "They'll be here."
Brennik was standing still, arms crossed, feet braced apart, staring into the crowd of decorative men all arranged neatly in precise rows. She was wearing a light brown t-shirt and her brown leather pants, the monotony broken by the black of her boots and gun-belt that hugged her waist and thighs. Her short hair was wild, a clump hanging over the bridge of her nose between her eyes. She looked as frustrated as Chiana felt.
Aeric was standing beside his sister, fingers in his pockets as he watched the soldiers. He was wearing blue cloth pants tucked into a pair of black boots and a newly acquired white t-shirt. Chiana half expected to see a gun-belt on him as well, but it seemed that he was still choosing not to arm himself yet. He was close enough to his sister for their arms to brush against each other occasionally, and Chiana realized that the boy was trying to offer comfort to his sister through the contact.
He was a good boy, and Aeryn had done a good job with him. She thought back to when Shedya was that age, and how hard it had been for everyone. She missed her boy.
D'Argo's hand pressed into her shoulder and she leaned back in to him, drawing strength. He was the one man who had always been there for her, the one person who had never abandoned her. "They are only a few microts late. They will be here," he whispered softly.
Just as his reassurance was finished, the door opened and the two stepped into the ceremonial arena, looking anything but royal. The reason for their delay was immediately apparent and Chiana felt perversely better. At least they hadn't been recreating, lost in their own little world that they sometimes had a habit of slipping into. She was all for any kind of recreation, at any other time than now.
Aeryn looked horrible. Her eyes were dark rimmed, her black and grey hair uncombed, her face so pale, she nearly looked like a Nebari. She was still in her sleeping clothes, and had obviously come straight from her bed. One arm was around John's shoulders, his arm supporting her by her waist. It looked as if he was more carrying her than she was walking. Her free arm was holding a bowl.
John looked frustrated, almost angry and she wondered what they'd argued about. He only got that look on his face when he'd lost an argument.
D'Argo and Aeric rushed from the platform, across the room to assist. The Luxan supported her other side, the boy grabbing the bowl and holding it ready in case it should be needed again. The small group slowly walked across the magnificent yellow carpet with dignity, only ruined by the occasional stop to let Aeryn dry heave into the bowl, in front of the entire crowd.
Not one soldier blinked, smiled, smirked or moved the slightest dench. There was absolutely no sign that any of them had witnessed the embarrassing event, even though it was occurring right before them. Chiana had to give Netrijon credit, his men were well trained.
Finally, they reached the platform and they ascended the stairs. Aeryn motioned for them to stop in front of Chiana, and the two men complied with her wishes. "I'm sorry, Chiana, that it took so long to get here. There were unforeseen circumstances."
Chiana reached up and held Aeryn's check briefly with one gloved hand, a lump in her throat. Aeryn could have stayed in bed all morning and the entire compound would have waited, but she'd crawled out of bed and come. "No… no problem," she whispered, unable to convey her gratitude at her friend's sacrifice. She didn't need to, Aeryn smiled and they both understood what the other was really saying.
Netrijon appeared from a side door that accessed the platform directly. It would have been a nice shortcut for Aeryn, but it was too late now. He stepped forward, wearing bright orange pants with green stockings and a large feathered headpiece, and raised his arms to the room. Loud cheering, deafening in its volume, filled the ceremonial hall. His arms dropped and silence instantly reigned, as oppressive as the noise had been.
"My dedicated employees…" he stated clearly, his voice booming over everyone's head. "Today we…"
Oh great, he was winding up for a speech. Poor Aeryn was only standing erect by the assistance of the men, and the longer they waited, the longer until they reached this Klune guy. She wanted to scream, she wanted to kick this idiot in the mivonks. Instead, she stood silently beside her friends, waiting. A hand brushed her back, circled her waist and she felt Aeric's side pressing into hers, hugging her.
"Don't worry, Chi," he whispered softly, his lips barely moving. "We'll get him. Dad always gets what he goes after, no matter what."
She hugged him back and remained silent, comforted by his simple words. This group never gave up, and if listening to this windbag drone on got them out of here safely so they could go after Shedya, she could wait.
"…And for the glory of the company, and for the sovereignty of the Thasniodian Empire, they go forth to gain retribution!" Netrijon's arm raised and the room erupted into cheers once again. Thank the Hynerion Gods, this was almost over. She sighed in relief. They would be on Moya soon and one step closer to getting her boy back.
---------------------------------------------
Brennik peered through the latticework of Aeric's door, trying to see if he was awake or not. The lights were set to low, and it was difficult to tell. It had been several arns since they'd left the mines, and that freak, Netrijon. Now they were speeding to the secret base of the mercenary operation and hopefully getting closer to the missing men.
"Hey," she said softly enough not to disturb him if he was sleeping.
"Hey," was the soft response. "Come in."
She palmed the door and it silently swished open. Not really sure what she was here for, she stepped inside and glanced around before finding the lump that was Aeric on his bed. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out more of his figure. Fully dressed, he was stretched out on top of the covers, his ankles crossed, his hands under his head. He eyed her silhouette, patiently waiting for her to explain why she had sought out his company in the middle of the sleep cycle.
"How are you doing?" she asked, feeling stupid.
"If I sleep, I dream," he stated simply. She hadn't expected such a candid answer. "How are you doing?" he asked in return.
She sighed heavily and thought about all the answers she could give him. He'd been honest with her, though. He deserved the same. "Miserable and feeling sorry for myself." She found a short, overstuffed chair in the corner of his room, and plopped down, flinging one leg over an armrest.
Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. "Wanna play a game of Chess?"
"No."
"Me neither." They both seemed to run out of things to say, and the room became silent. A DRD passed in the hall, sent on some unknown task. "We're a lot luckier than most people in the universe," she finally mused, trying to convince herself as much as him.
"How do you figure?" he asked.
"No matter what, we have each other."
"What if we didn't?" he asked with a sadness seeping into his voice. She didn't answer; the thought was too horrible to face at that moment. He let her lack of answer slide and waited a few microts before changing the subject. "When we were in the township, did you see the Gembaadi trelk with the three loomas?"
She snickered, despite her mood. "Sitting on the corner of Heeduin and Beldosi?"
He chuckled a little. "Yeah, that was the one."
"Was that a woman or a man?" she asked. "With the three loomas, I thought it was a 'she' at first, but then it stood up and I wasn't sure."
"She propositioned me."
"Really?!?"
He smiled in the dim light. "Yeah."
"You didn't. Did you?"
"No," he said with a wistful tone. "But it was fun having her ask."
"I bet," she said, smiling despite herself. How did Aeric do it? She knew why she'd come in here, now. He had this talent for diverting her thoughts and making her smile. She knew he was having a hard time. He probably wanted his space, and here she was, using him. "Should I leave?" she asked faintly.
"No."
She pondered his response and felt a little better, knowing that she was providing a modicum of comfort by being here. Maybe it wasn't so one-sided after all. Maybe she was distracting him as well. "You're a good man, Aeric," she told him.
"I hope to be, someday. Everyone tells me I'm just like Dad. I could do worse, I guess."
"Yes, you could," she agreed. Silence fell once again, and the nightly sounds of Moya pervaded. She listened to him breathing across the room, listened to his breaths become more and more deep and regular. He was sleeping.
She'd wait a while longer, just in case. Maybe being needed by somebody else would help take her mind off her own problems.
-----------------------------------------------------------
It was morning on Moya, and the lights slowly brightened until the entire room was well lit. Aeric almost adjusted the settings lower, but it was too late, he was awake. His feet felt hot and sweaty and his side was stiff. Oh yeah, he'd fallen asleep in his clothes.
He'd tried not to sleep at all, and it shouldn't have been difficult. Every time his eyes closed, Jeleen's face was imprinted on the back of his eyelids. She had been a very beautiful woman, even if she HAD been psychotic. He remembered the blood of his family dripping from that knife, and the horror washed through him all over again.
His eyes snapped open, and the image disappeared, leaving the panic behind. Someone had covered him in the night, and he'd twisted to his side. Brennik still sat in the chair across the room, one leg propped over the armrest, her head tilted back at an awkward angle, snoring softly. She was going to have a stiff neck all day, he'd bet.
He didn't want to wake her, she slept so seldom lately, so he quietly sat up and removed his covers and tiptoed in to his washroom. He washed quickly, threw in a dentic and headed for the center chamber. He was starving.
The halls were quiet; it was still early. D'Argo and Chiana wouldn't emerge for at least another arn, and who knew where Noranti was. His mother was always sick in the mornings, and if Dad has his way, she wouldn't be up for a while either. After yesterday, he didn't blame her if she stayed in bed for a weeken. But that wasn't her way. Hadn't she been the one who'd insisted on walking through that crowd, refusing to be carried, or to wait?
On a whim, he decided to pass through the maintenance bay on his way to first meal. He loved looking at his father's module and imagining what it had been like, that first time through the wormhole, with no one there to guide him. He remembered his own flight through one, and he secretly wished he could do it again. It had been magic. When he was near the module, he could run his hands over the hull, close his eyes and hear the melody and harmony in his head.
That's one of the reasons he loved his skateboard so much; the rush was very similar. Only it would never be the same, the music wasn't there. That was another reason to go to the bay, he told himself. He needed to get his skateboard from the transport pod.
He stepped in to the room and heard a faint clatter of metal hitting the floor. Following the sound, he found himself standing near his mother's prowler, looking at two black, leather-clad legs sticking out from underneath, moving slightly with the effort of the work that was being performed. He cleared his throat and his father's head ducked out from under the machine.
"Hey," he said in greeting. "Come over here and hold this part still for me, all right?" Without waiting for confirmation, his head disappeared under the prowler.
Aeric sighed dramatically, just for show, and crawled under with his father to hold the requested part stable. "What are you doing?" he asked. His stomach growled, reminding him that he'd been on his way to eat, but he ignored it. He'd learned recently that some things were more important, and you had to prioritize.
"Just some maintenance. I didn't like the way it sounded the last time your mother fired it up, but I haven't had a chance to work on it until now. Hand me that fuel adjuster."
Aeric handed him the tool and lay on his back, watching his father work in silence. His mind worked overtime, faster than his father's steady hands, and finally, he had to say what had been eating at him. "Wormholes could solve our problems, you know."
The adjuster fell out of his father's hands, smacking him on the forehead before clattering to the floor. A Luxan swear word, appropriate for the occasion, sounded from the injured man. He'd have to remember that one, it was good. For long microts his father laid on his back, rubbing the injury and staring at the machinery above his head, lost in his own thoughts. "Why would you say that?" he finally asked, his voice just a touch too casual.
"I've seen what they can do, don't lie to me. We could go back before all this happened, and keep Sethya and Tean and Shedya from leaving. Or we could go back even farther. Think about it, dad. We could go back before the Mom was taken, and live our lives together like we should have."
His father closed his eyes, as if warding off a deep pain. A heavy sigh escaped and he turned blue eyes directly at his son, looking into his soul. "No, Aeric. We can't."
"I've seen it. You can travel through time, you can DO something!"
"It doesn't work that way. This is a lesson for another time. Someday, I will explain it to you. But the short answer is, that if you go backward in your own timeline, you will frell everything up."
"How?" he asked angrily, thinking his father was dismissing his idea out of hand.
"How?" he repeated the question, obviously straining to hold his temper. "By killing yourself on accident, for one. Or finding out that your sister is really Noranti now, and that I am a Peacekeeper captain. Or that D'Argo…" he stopped his tirade and looked at his boy's confused gaze, realizing he wasn't helping. "Everything has a way of working itself back to the natural timeline, making things familiar. You might change the event that you know of as bad, but accidentally make something worse happen," he finished.
Aeric watched his face, seeing pain, haunted regret, terror. "You've done it, haven't you?" he asked softly.
"Yes." The older man was quiet for a moment before continuing. "Wormholes are bad, Aeric. Stay away from them."
"I can't." A long silence hung heavily. The maintenance work on the prowler had been long forgotten by the two, and they looked at each other with an uneasy understanding. "They sing to me," Aeric finally finished. "I don't know how much longer I can ignore them."
His father swallowed and looked away, suddenly remembering the mechanics of the prowler above him. His hands went to work and he spoke with sad determination. "Then when this is all over, I'll start teaching you everything I know. I can't have you falling into one completely blind."
Aeric nodded, not sure if his father could even see him or not, but not sure what to say either. He was thrilled, he was excited, he was terrified. His father was angry and depressed. He heard him mumble something about frelling Ancients, but he didn't ask what it meant. His stomach growled loudly and his father finally smiled, glancing at him.
"I think we're about done." He threw down his tool and started to pull himself from under the Prowler. "Let's go get something to eat."
As they left the room, his father threw an arm over Aeric's shoulder and squeezed briefly. Suddenly, everything didn't seem quite as overwhelming anymore.
---------------------------------------------------------
Brennik scratched the raw skin under the wire holding her top in place and reminded herself for the millionth time in an arn that she was doing this for Sethya… who'd have a coronary right now if he saw her. She could picture the look on his face if he ever caught sight of her in the tight, skin colored, lacey pants, the skimpy shirt that exposed her stomach and pushed her loomas up and together. Everything of absolute vital importance was covered, but you couldn't tell at first glance.
As it was, she wasn't looking forward to her father showing up either. He'd be here within half an arn, and she was pretty sure that when she and Chiana were sent ahead yesterday to infiltrate the club as waitresses, he didn't have this get-up in mind. Chiana was across the room, working the crowd and the tables with a natural grace and seduction that was inspiring. Brennik, on the other hand, nearly gave one customer a right hook when he'd smacked her rear.
If Sethya had seen it, that hand would have gone missing.
The club was filled with loud music, it was dark, and her lungs were choking on smoke from a hundred different types of plants being inhaled; both rolled in paper and in pipes. This was some kind of celebration, and all the patrons were holding nothing back in their antics.
As she wove between the tables, trying to remember drink orders and fend off wandering hands, paws and tentacles, she cursed her father, cursed Sethya, and for good measure threw in a curse for Tean as well. This was actually worse than that meeting at that red bar with The Businessman. And she didn't have Sethya here nibbling on her ear to make it better. Why was it you never appreciate what you have until it's gone?
A hand reached up from behind her, grasping her stomach and pulling her hard into a big lap. The drinks on her serving tray crashed to the floor, sending shards of glass and pottery flying in all directions. Laughter rang out through the group, and she reacted instinctively. Her elbow flew back, connecting to something soft and giving. The arms dropped as her assailant howled in misery.
Not finished, she jumped from the lap and spun, letting her fist connect with the Sebacean's face, sending him sprawling to the floor to land in a heap. Let her be fired, let her be kicked out of here, she didn't care. They'd find another way in. There was a split microt where everyone in the bar was silent, staring at her, the music deafening without the chatter. To her surprise, laughter erupted, a few other waitresses clapped, and everyone went back to partying, ignoring the man on the floor.
She headed back to the bartender, her boss, to refill the lost orders. As she approached, she realized that she would probably be expelled, but acted as if nothing happened. He filled the drinks and let her turn away before addressing her.
"Brennik," he called.
She turned around with trepidation, angry with herself for not handling things differently. Sethya's life was on the line, and she'd blown it. "Yeah?"
"I was wondering when you were going to handle the situation. I was beginning to think I'd made a mistake in hiring you. Good job." He smiled, and she breathed a sigh of relief, smiling back at him. She wasn't fired.
And no one else touched her again.
A quarter of an arn later, she saw a hand wave to her through the crowd, and she followed the summons. If she wasn't a Crichton, on the run from every race in the Uncharted Territories, she could make a decent living as a waitress. The tips had been really good, especially after she'd started imitating Chiana's way of swaying her hips.
"What can I get for you?" she asked as she reached for her order plate. The small metal square automatically sent the request to the bartender, so that the drinks would be ready by the time she made it back.
"Give me a fellip nectar," a disgruntled, familiar, voice said to her. She lifted her eyes to meet the deep blue of her father's.
"Can I get you any fried Grolack with that? They're especially crisp tonight."
"No, the drink will be enough." He was speaking volumes through his expression, and she answered back, silently, by not paying attention. But when she turned to get his drink, she made special care not to sway her hips. No need to make the situation worse.
When she returned with his order, he'd apparently adjusted; he managed to smile at her, though his eyes were still stormy. "So," he said conversationally, "I'm fairly new to this joint. Who do I talk to about a job?"
"Well, if you want a job with the club, go talk to Jerchi, the fuzzy man behind the bar. If you want a job with The Company, ask for Yacnyvesh."
"Thanks."
"No problem." He looked at her and she waited until it dawned on him. With a smirk, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, dropping them onto her serving tray. It was, by far, the best tip of the night, but she wasn't going to tell him that. "Cheapskate," she murmured as she walked away. She heard him laugh behind her.
She had a tip bucket behind the counter with Jerchi and went to drop of her currency. Her father probably expected the money back, but she'd earned it. "Brennik," the bartender called when she was in hearing range. "Drop your money and report to hall 2. The big boss has seen you, and wants you for his special engagement."
Uh, oh.
He must have seen the panicked look on her face and smiled encouragingly. "This is a good thing. It triples your wages. You'll do fine. You're a natural. The men love you."
That was what she as afraid of.
"And your friend, Chiana, will be there with you," he continued. "You both were requested."
Ok, she felt a little better now. She'd feel even better if she'd been allowed to waitress with her pulse pistols on. They'd said it ruined the effect of her uniform, though. Remembering the uniform, her chest began to itch again, and she absently reached up and rubbed her hand under the wire, soothing the raw spot. Frelling push-up top. How did other women wear these things all the time?
She looked back over to her father, trying to catch his eye and let him know that she was going, and that perhaps he might want to find a way to follow, but he was distracted by a trelk trying to make some quick cash. She had to give her father credit, she was exotic and beautiful, and he was barely looking at her. She would've gone over and rescue him from the determined woman (who didn't seem to be taking "No" for an answer), but Jerchi was impatiently waiting for her to report to his boss.
Chiana was near an exit at the back of the room and waved to her. Good. D'Argo was around here somewhere, and he'd spot them leaving. The Luxan had a sixth sense when it came to his Nebari woman. Maybe it came from countless cycles of keeping tabs on her.
They both squeezed through the door and it slammed heavily behind them, leaving them in a narrow, long hallway with multiple doors. "Where are we going?" Brennik asked.
"Jerchi said to follow the passage to the very end," Chiana replied. "We'd be given instructions from there."
"What's this for?" she asked as they cautiously walked toward their destination.
"The Boss is having a special engagement, saw us, and asked for us to serve it."
"Klune?!"
"Yeah, I think so," Chiana answered. Hatred was mirrored in both their eyes. That was something they'd have to control before they met up with the head mercenary.
At last, they reached a heavy, metal door at the end of the passage, guarded by one mangy looking blood tracker that sniffed at them unappreciatively. "He usually gets better," the guard observed as he pulled the door open. "The bar is on the left. Report to the drink maker."
"Where is Klune? Chiana asked, her head tilting downward slightly, looking at the blood tracker with false innocence. "I want to thank him for the opportunity."
The guard backed up slightly, frowning disapproval. "You'll get your chance, don't worry. He gives all the new help undivided attention."
A shiver pleasure seemed to ripple through Chiana at the mere thought. Brennik hoped her reaction of revulsion could be taken the same way. She'd forced herself to smile, though. That had to be good enough. Frell, this is what you got when you were raised by an old man. You became deficient in the subtleties that every other woman seemed to have instinctively.
They stepped inside to an entirely different club. The lights were set high, a band was playing abstract music a stage to the right, and the tables were full of exotic food and colorful drinks. The patrons were in good spirits, but none were overly rowdy and the waitresses looked less frazzled. This was definitely the higher class of the business.
There was a stage to the left as well, with tables arranged in a courtly fashion. Men sat at the tables, eating, and Brennik assumed they were the higher ranking officers.
Chiana grabbed her arm and headed her for the bar. A Luxan stood behind it, eyeing them appreciatively as they approached. "Hey there, big guy," Chiana greeted. "We were told to talk to you. I'm Chiana, this is Brennik."
"Yes, well, I can see that Klune hasn't lost his good taste in women. You are to be serving him personally tonight."
The Nebari woman leaned in close, showing a great deal of cleavage in the skimpy top, and ran a finger down his jaw. "Is he the only one we'll be serving?"
The Luxan coughed and held out a tray with multiple plates, his hands shaking. "Serve him first, then everyone at the other tables. Serve the guests at his table last."
That was weird.
Chiana winked at him and grabbed the plate of food. "Come on, Brennik. Let's get going." They both wielded their trays before them bravely, and moved to the stage. It was difficult managing the stairs, but they reached the table of honor without mishap.
Until Brennik leaned in to place the plate of food in front of Klune, identified by his ornate dinner chair, and found that the angle she had to reach with placed her pushed up loomas directly in the face of one of Klune's dinner companions. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said and backed up to look directly into the eyes of Sethya.