“Untrackable credits,” Bethiah drawls. “Paid upfront.” She holds a large, three-fingered hand out, and there’s even a tattoo on her callused blue palm.
Oh. “Of course.” I’d been told this was the situation and I’d come prepared. I slide the small pouch across the table, and the woman’s long-fingered hand immediately snatches it up. She doesn’t open the pouch, just bounces it in her hand as if weighing it, and then grunts.
“Who do you need me to hunt down?” Bethiah asks, pocketing my money.
“A man.”
Her eyes narrow. “Which man?”
I smile brightly. Now we’re getting to the good stuff. “Oh, I’m not all that picky. Just a single man will do. He does need to be unmarried, though.” I think for a moment. “Preferably not repulsed by humans.”
Bethiah gives me a look. It’s a look that implies that she thinks I’m mentally impaired. “You do realize I’m a bounty hunter? Not a matchmaker?”
“Oh, I know.” I lean in close, whispering. “I’m not entirely sure this man will be willing.”
Her lips twitch.
“Perhaps you should explain a bit more,” Bethiah says, gesturing at me. “As in, start at the very beginning and go from there.” The surly szzt worker walks past and she raises her hand and gestures at the empty, greasy basket in front of me. “We need more of these. She’s paying.”
“I am?”
“You are.” Bethiah taps the table. “Now. Should this man be alive or dead?”
I…have to specify? “Um, alive? He’s no good to me dead.”
“So you need a kidnapping more than a killing?” Bethiah pulls out a datapad and begins to type. “Go on.”
I’m growing a little alarmed. When I heard I needed to talk to Bethiah, I assumed she had connections I was unaware of. I didn’t think she’d be a bounty hunter. I didn’t think I’d have to specify that I needed my particular man alive. I’m starting to sweat a little. What if I hadn’t specified? What if there’s something else I need to specify that I forget? Oh god. The enormity of the process is starting to terrify me. “This is my first time to hire a bounty hunter,” I admit.
“No keffing way,” Bethiah says dryly. “Okay, so you need a male. Any particular species in mind?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know all the species, truly.” I try to think of all the races I’ve seen. Orange-skinned. Blue-skinned. Frog-skinned. The catlike praxiians. The tiny bird-whistling creatures that stole me from Earth a few years ago. “Just something that seems…nice.”
“Nice…” Bethiah says flatly. “What exactly am I hunting this man for?”
I bite my lip and then lean forward. “So I can marry him.”
Bethiah’s pointy chin lifts ever so slightly in a half-nod. “I see. You want to marry him but you don’t care what species he is? Does he need a human-compatible penis?”
I swallow hard, trying not to blush. “Um, it doesn’t matter.”
She makes a disbelieving face but keeps typing. “Working penis at all?”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s going to be a marriage of convenience.”
“It doesn’t sound very convenient for your mate if he doesn’t get to kef his new wife.”
Now she’s making me nervous. This plan sounded so good when I worked it out in my head. Haven’t quickie marriages to aliens worked out well for some of the neighboring farms? I heard that Leilani married some big hulking mesakkah, and Piper married an ugly prisoner. Both of them have reported no more incidents on their farms, too. I need that safety and reassurance. “He won’t want to sleep with me. I’m human.”
Bethiah leans in. “My little friend, I’ve been around this galaxy for a while. I know what males do with humans, and they aren’t popular for their conversational skills, if you follow me.”
2
KIM
Now I really am blushing. “I know. It’s just that…that doesn’t apply to me.”
“Why doesn’t it?”
“I’m older.”
She eyes me. “How much older?”
“Most of the girls that have been taken are in their early twenties. I just turned thirty-six.”
“You look the same.”
“Well aren’t you sweet.” I chuckle, preening a little at that comment. While it’s true that I do look young for my age, any medical scan will quickly show the truth of the matter. “It’s not that old. It’s just that when someone hears my age, they immediately want to do a fertility scan, and according to your scanners, thirty-six is considered ‘geriatric’ for a human slave. Ex-slave,” I correct quickly. It still feels weird to be considered “freed” even after all this time. “I’m still of a child-bearing age but all the other women here are much younger and they have better land, so I get passed over quite a bit.”
“Better…land,” Bethiah echoes, curious.
“Yes. We were all granted land by Lord va’Rin. It was assigned via pools and it seems that my particular plot is very arid and rocky compared to the fertile fields of my neighbors.” I’m not bitter about it. I like my particular plot, high up on a hill, because I can see for miles and miles around. I love the flowers I grow, their bright pink and yellow blooms that look so cheery…even if they’re problematic. I grimace. “Unfortunately it’s only good for a certain type of crop.”