Keryn laughed as she saw Penchant stiffly pick up a silk scarf, rolling the fabric between his fingers. For a race who had mastered the techniques of infiltration and mimicry, the Lithids still had a long way to go when it came to social graces.
As Keryn turned back to her own booth, Adam slid up beside her. Absently picking up one of the large, circular metallic plates that the vendor was selling, his attention remained on her.
“A fine plate,” the vendor began, spinning his sales pitch. He leaned across the table as he continued. “Made from some of the finest metals in the known universe. Very rare. Very rare, indeed. It would make a great addition to an existing collection or a great start for a young entrepreneur like yourself.” The merchant looked back and forth at the two customers. “Or, perhaps, it would make a beautiful gift for the beautiful lady?”
Smiling, Keryn took the plate from Adam’s hands, admiring her own reflection in the shining metal.
“What do you think, honey,” she purred. “Is this beautiful plate worthy of such a beautiful woman?”
She turned the plate in her hand, watching the viridian sky reflected off the plate. The plate froze in mid turn, however, when Keryn noticed a dangerously familiar reflection caught on the metal surface. The massive Oterian frame that pushed its way through the crowd behind the pair was unmistakable. The over eight-foot frame, shrouded in dark brown fur, was capped with hooked horns that bent forward.
“You will buy it for me?” she exclaimed, improvising cool serenity to quell her momentary panic. Smiling broadly, she threw her arms around Adam’s broad shoulders and pulled his head into her neck. With a flip of her head, her silver hair cascaded over his face. Burying her own face in his strong throat, she effectively hid both their identities from those passing close by. Adam, well trained to respond to unusual situation, wisely remained silent.
“Cardax is here,” she whispered as the smuggler walked obliviously past the duo, “passing within a few feet of us.”
“Should we take him now,” he inquired. She felt the arm not around her thin waist shift to the weapon hidden beneath his coat.
Keryn shook her head slowly in the crook of his neck. “Now is not the time. Just observe his movements. We’ll want to engage him when it’s not quite so public.” She snuggled closer against his body. “Remember: stealth.”
Adam shifted until his eyes were able to glance from under the waves of her thick hair. Cardax and his guards, all of whom were significantly shorter than the smuggler himself, walked quickly through the crowd. Few people stood in their way, most making way for the massive Oterian. For those who did not move quickly enough, Adam watched as Cardax’s brown fur bristled with anger before his meaty hands shoved helpless bystanders into nearby carts and stalls.
Two blocks past where Adam and Keryn shared their warm embrace, Cardax and his crew entered a two story structure, accentuated with glowing neon lights. With danger now passed, Keryn pulled away from her teammate and turned to look up the street. Feeling a gentle tap on his shoulder, Adam spun tensely toward the stall. Startled, the merchant pointed at the plate still clutched in Keryn’s hand.
“So you decided to buy her the plate?” the merchant asked hopefully.
Keryn glanced down at the shiny metallic plate. Shrugging, she tossed it to the merchant, who fumbled as he tried to catch the quickly spinning metal. Finally clutching it tightly to his chest, the vendor released a sigh and set the plate onto the table. He glanced furiously at Keryn.
“We changed our minds,” she said. “But I’ll give you a ten-piece note if you tell me what business that is about two blocks up.” She pointed at the neon-encased building that Cardax had entered.
He started to respond rudely, but thought better when he noticed the dangerous look he was receiving from Adam. “It’s the Black Void. It’s a bar.”
Keryn looked across the street to where a bearded Terran still examined the local fabrics. “Penchant,” she yelled, getting his attention. “Find us a place to stay while we’re here.”
Adam and Keryn exchanged glances. “So what now?” he asked.
“Now, I think it’s about time you bought me a drink, honey,” she said with a sickly sweetness. They stepped away from the booth and began heading up the street.
“What about my money?” the merchant yelled behind them.
Adam glanced over his shoulder. “We changed our minds about that too!”
CHAPTER 5:
Keryn and Adam slipped into the Black Void, allowing the door to stay open only briefly in order to minimize the amount of bright light that flooded into the dark bar. Their silhouettes were gone from the doorway before most patrons registered that the door had been opened.
Thick, acrid smoke hung like curtains within the Black Void and a mixture of voices and languages overwhelmed the senses. The center of the room housed an assortment of tables and stools, some crafted to support the physiology of the more rare races. A large crescent bar dominated the back wall, with an assortment of alcoholic beverages as wide-ranging as the clientele of the Void. Keryn and Adam, however, pushed their way through the crowd and found seats in the booths that lined both side walls. The tall backs of the benches and taller dividing walls allowed privacy while also minimizing background noise enough that they could hold a conversation. The benches were as much a statement of life in Miller’s Glen as the armed bodyguards that lined the street. The tall backs had been built to allow privacy from prying eyes and probing intrusions during immoral practices and illegal transactions, allowing dark dealings to take place in so public an arena.
Keryn felt uncomfortable as she took her seat. Adam had taken the seat facing the bar itself, while she had been forced to sit across from him with a view only of the front door. While both observation views were necessary for their mission, Keryn felt exposed and vulnerable without being able to see who was approaching the table from behind her. Reaching beneath the table, she unlatched the locking mechanism that held her sidearm in its holster. She felt a momentary relief knowing that she could now easily draw her pistol, should the need arise.
“Do you see him?” Keryn asked, cursing herself again for placing herself with no observation of the bar. Judging from Adam’s narrowed eyes, he had already spotted Cardax among the crowd.
“He’s at the bar, along with a couple of his crew,” Adam replied.
Cardax’s large Oterian body dominated the area around the bar. His size was eclipsed only by the amount of noise he made while barking orders to both his cohorts and the patrons of the bar who, unfortunately for them, sat too close. Even from where they sat, his loud voice carried through the thick air and din of conversations.
“What the hell are you looking at, dog?” Cardax yelled at one of the drunkards who only barely held himself steady on a stool at the bar. Swinging his massive arm, Cardax lifted the man from the barstool, watching as he crashed limply into one of the nearby tables. His guffaws carried across the room, accompanied by the prodded laughter of those in his proximity.
In the ensuing silence, a woman approached the table. Keryn tensed at her approach, unaware of her presence until she appeared suddenly at her side. Haggard and worn, the older woman, frocked in a dirty dress whose color matched the dark wood of the Void, exuded a sense of misery and apathy.
“What can I get you?” she asked brusquely, her thin patience already worn from the long day’s work.
“What do you have on tap?” Adam asked nonchalantly. The woman glowered at him with undisguised hatred.
“We’ll have two of whatever is on tap,” Keryn quickly interceded. The quicker the woman left, the less attention would be drawn to the booth in which they found themselves hiding.
“Coming right up.” Turning, the woman walked away in disgust.
“A friendly bunch, here,” Adam said drolly.
“Focus less on your drink,” Keryn warned, “and more on Cardax. Is he still up front?”
Adam glanced past her shoulder to the front of the bar. Cardax’s large frame still dominated the area as he broke into another story of his pirating adventures. He seemed at ease in the bar, as though he were a frequent customer. Even the bartender seemed to cater to the massive smuggler. His minions, however, responded robotically to the Oterian’s moods. When he laughed, they laughed in response. When he grew angry, they flashed steely eyes around the room and rested their hands on the butt of their pistols. They were clearly less his friends,
