“Why do they call it that?” Penny asked, frowning. “Is there gambling there?” It sounded like the name of someplace in Vegas, she thought.
But Granny Two-two shook her heads—both of them.
“’Fraid not, child. They call it that on account of that’s where men and women find each other for connections.”
“Connections? Do you mean dates?” Penny asked.
“What’s dates?” Granny Two-two frowned. “I mean connections in their nether regions.” She pointed at Penny’s crotch.
“Oh!” Penny nodded. So it was a kind of meat market bar—the kind where everyone was just looking for a quick hook-up. The kind she strictly avoided back home.
Well, it looks like you can’t avoid this one! whispered a little voice in her head.
“So you see now?” Granny Two-two asked her. “It’s not a nice place to send a young girl—I’ll admit that, a’course. But it’s the only place in this part of the station as has an interstellar hook-up.” She frowned. “A’course, they ain’t going to let you make such a long call for free.”
Penny’s heart sank down to her boots.
“But…I don’t have any money,” she protested. She didn’t even know what passed for money here in the Hell’s Gate Spaceport. Or if they used money at all. But even if they were on some kind of a barter system, she would be in deep trouble. She had nothing at all to trade. Well, maybe her boots, but that would mean her feet would be freezing until Commander Sylvan could send some help, would be at least a week…
“You’ll have to give tit for tat, if you want to make that call,” Granny Two-two informed her, matter-of-factly. “As I said, the males in The Lucky Lounge are always looking for connections. So if you ask for the cost of the call as your price—”
“What? I’m not going to prostitute myself to make a phone call!” Penny exclaimed. “I won’t!”
“Well…” Granny Two-two frowned up at her thoughtfully. “Look here, I have an idea, so I do,” she said at last. She pulled the black and white toupee her quick-loris had stolen from the frozen party and handed it to Penny who stared at it doubtfully. It looked like something only a bald skunk would want to wear.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked.
“The bartender at the Lucky Lounge is named Grunge,” Granny Two-two informed her. “He’s tall with silver skin and he’s bald as an ornbus egg. You give him that and tell him all you want for it is to make a quick call in return.”
“So…you think he’ll trade a used toupee for an interstellar call?” Penny asked. She wasn’t sure how much such a long-distance call ought to cost, but she wasn’t sure a fifty-year old toupee that had been stolen off a frozen man’s head would be enough to pay for it.
“Yes, I do.” Granny Two-two nodded stubbornly. “That’s genuine brantha hair, that is,” she said, pointing at the toupee Penny was still clutching. “That’s quality! They don’t make ‘em anymore on account of those greedy Gatlings hunting all the brantha to death. So even if Grunge doesn’t want to wear it, he can sell it—see?”
“See? See?” squeaked her second head, blinking rapidly.
“I see.” Penny nodded. “Thank you, Granny Two-two—for everything you’ve done for me,” she added. Trying to trade a used toupee for an interstellar call still seemed like a doubtful proposition, but it was a hell of a lot better than trying to sell her body to some alien man to earn the money. Clearly the old lady had done the best she could for her and Penny was truly grateful.
Impulsively, she leaned down and put her arms around the little old lady.
“Thank you,” she said again. “I don’t know where I’d be without you!”
“You’d be digesting in the belly of that Keeper, that’s where.” The old lady patted her on the back. “Go on with you now, dearie. Granny Two-two has more treasure mining to do.”
“Go on! Go on!” shrieked the second head and bit Penny on the earlobe—hard.
“Ouch!” Penny gasped and jerked away, her hand flying to her hurt ear.
“Ah, sorry, dearie. Shoulda warned you. My twin—she bites.” Granny Two-two swatted at the blinking second head, which still had a few strands of Penny’s hair caught in its sharp little teeth.
“I see.” Penny took her fingers away from her ear and saw a smear of blood on them. Great, now she was wounded and she had no idea if Granny Two-two’s second head had any kind of disease she ought to be worried about. What if she got some kind of space-rabies from that awful little thing?
She wondered if she ought to ask about it, but couldn’t think how to do it without being rude. What would she say? Excuse me, Granny Two-two, but has your second head had all her shots?
Before she could muster the nerve to ask if she ought to be worried, the old lady took her leave.
“Well, now, I’ve got to go, so I do.” Granny Two-two nodded at her. “Best of luck to you, dearie. I’m mortal ‘fraid you’ll need it.”
“Need it! Need it!” screeched her second head and then the two of them—three, Penny supposed, counting the quick-loris—disappeared into the crowded marketplace and were gone.
Twelve
“Lucky Lounge…Lucky Lounge…” Penny muttered to herself as she made her way carefully through the crowd. She was keeping to the outskirts of the market, as much as possible, trying not to draw attention to herself.
Thanks to the translation bacteria she’d been given back on the Mother Ship, she could understand all the strange, alien languages being spoken around her and it reassured her that she didn’t hear anyone talking about humanoid trafficking or finding new girls to abduct.
Though of course, I doubt they’d talk about that right out in the open, Penny thought to herself. Probably they’d go someplace private to talk about illegal activities. Someplace like
