Rebel (5 page)

She hated to admit it, but she had never even heard of a trust fund before and had derived the meaning from the context of the conversation. Was there such a thing that could fill a person’s head with knowledge without sitting through years of schooling? Maybe there was if you had enough to pay for it. Imagine waking up one day with a head full of facts and figures and the knowhow to express artistic talent. Peska could draw well, not that the materials were readily available to them. She’d stolen a lump of something called clay once and had given it to Kim.

“You make things out of it,” she had said. “Watch.”

Peska had pressed and formed the ugly lump into the shape of a flower, then a dog, then a bird with outstretched wings. Kim had kept that clay for months, turning it into something different each day until it was no longer pliable. It remained in the shape of a fish until one day she realized it was no longer among her tiny cache of possessions. Ever since then, she imagined that happiness was a never-ending supply of clay or some other substance she could shape into whatever her heart desired.

Peska had called it sculpting. Funny word for something so marvelous. Kim hardly dared to hope that what Onca had told her was true. If so, the first thing she was going to buy with her money was a big hunk of clay and some drawing paper and pencils for Peska.

That is, if they ever found her.

She kept her eyes on Jatki, praying to any deity that would listen that her Kitnock friend didn’t disappear right in front of her eyes. The others had gone missing during the night. Surely Jatki was safe on the street in broad daylight.

Onca’s voice over the comlink broke the silence. “Okay. I see her now. What’s the signal?”

Kim raised her hands in front of the comlink pad and cracked the knuckles on the index and ring fingers of her left hand.

Onca snickered. “That’s it? My, how unique and imaginative. No one would ever accidentally duplicate such a gesture.”

Obviously he was retaliating for the way she and Roncas had teased him. “It’s Kitnock fingerspeak for ‘All clear.’”

“You don’t say.”

“I
do
say,” Kim retorted. “Haven’t you ever noticed how Kitnocks crack their knuckles a lot when they get together?”

“I don’t believe I have,” Onca replied. “But then, I’ve always fucked them one at a time.”

“Onca!” Roncas exclaimed. “Will you
please
watch your language?”

Kim had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “Trust me. That’s our signal.”

“Not much of a signal unless the person you’re signaling can
see
you, is it?”

“Better than yelling it out if there are nasty Herpatronian rapists hanging around, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” he conceded. “Okay. I’ll give it a try, but it’s still a rotten signal.”

Kim watched as he pulled over to the edge of the street and opened the canopy of the speeder. After waving at Jatki, he held up his hands and cracked the two knuckles.

Jatki shook her head and leaned back against the building, her fingertips gripping the rough surface as though she was stuck to it.

“Dammit, Jatki, I’m not cracking my knuckles again,” he yelled. “You get your ass in this speeder right
now
. Kim sent me.”

Instantly, his speeder was surrounded by the nastiest-looking bunch of—to be honest, Kim didn’t know
what
they were, but they didn’t look friendly.

“Get in the speeder!” she screamed over the comlink, hoping Jatki could hear her.

The results were immediate. Jatki dove into the passenger seat, the canopy slid shut, and Onca’s speeder screamed off down the street. The gang of thugs fired a couple of pulse blasts in their wake with no apparent effect.

“Great mother of the gods!” Onca swore. “Don’t you girls
ever
go off without me again! Didn’t I tell you it might be a trap? Didn’t I?”

“Calm down, Boss,” Roncas said. “We need to rendezvous somewhere other than your house in case we’re followed.”

“Your place?”

“Oh, hell no,” Roncas said without the proper inflection to accompany her words. “I was thinking we should go to the Palace.”

“Or maybe somewhere more neutral, like the restaurant district?” Onca suggested. “Jatki looks like she could use some lunch.”

Although she hated to admit it, Kim was hungry again herself. She was used to the feeling, but if Onca was offering to buy lunch, she would definitely eat it. “Are you okay, Jatki?”

“Yes,” her friend replied. “And you’re right. It was a trap. I’ve got a tracking device on me.”

“Must not be very smart crooks if you know it’s on you. Get rid of it,” Onca snapped. “Throw it out in the street.”

“I can’t,” Jatki replied. “They, um, made me swallow it.”

“Well, shit,” Onca said. “What the fuck do we do now?”

Roncas was twittering so hard she was having trouble steering her speeder. “I think having lunch is actually the best thing for her to do.”

“What? Oh, yeah, right.” Onca chuckled. “Guess we really do need to feed her. A lot.”

“Better make it someplace safe if they’re tracking us,” Kim said. She was about to suggest they head straight for a police station when Onca snapped his fingers.

“I know just the place,” he declared. “Nobody will bother us there, and if we need to, we can shoot our way out.”

“Oh, no,” Roncas groaned. “Not Oswalak’s. Their food always gives me the runs.”

“That’s the idea,” Onca said. “And the guys that work there are bigger and meaner than any Rackenspries ever thought about being.”

“Is
that
what those things were?” Kim asked. “I’ve never seen them before.”

“Yeah. Nasty little shits. Easy to buy off, too, which probably means someone paid them to waylay us. The guys at Oswalak’s will know what to do if any of them follow us.”

Kim wasn’t so sure about that. “Can you trust them?”

“Oh, yeah,” Onca replied. “The cook owes me a favor.”

“How come?”

“I fucked his sister for free. Don’t give out many freebies, so technically, he owes me a thousand credits. This should make us even.”

Shemlak wasn’t quite as accommodating as Onca had hoped. After being shown to their table, a quick word to their waitress had brought the cook swaggering out of the kitchen. However, having heard Onca’s request, he stared down at him with a level of intimidation that only a Darconian could achieve.

“Let me get this straight,” Shemlak said. “You want protection from a bunch of Rackenspries?”

“Yeah,” Onca replied. “Got a problem with that?”

“Not really, I’m just wondering why. What’d you do, refuse to fuck one of them?”

Roncas sat beside him, twittering her amusement. Onca attempted to silence her with a sharp look and a nudge, both of which were unsuccessful.

“Not exactly. Besides, I’m on leave. Or retired. Or something. Not sure.”

Shemlak’s huge, reptilian eyes narrowed. “You actually
quit
?” He glanced at Roncas for confirmation. “Really?”

Roncas nodded. “Paid me a parting bonus and everything.”

“Um, yeah.” Onca arched a brow. “Does it matter?”

Shemlak let out a howl. “Ganyn will be pleased. She’s been hoping you’d retire ever since you gave her that shot of your
snard
.”

Onca failed to see why Ganyn would care one way or the other, unless she thought he might be giving out more freebies now that he was no longer working at the Palace. For the record, he wasn’t. “I don’t do Darconians anymore. Not since Audrey’s death. Scent’s not right.”

“You didn’t have Audrey when you did Ganyn. Remember? She brought along that Terran friend of hers.”

“Tell me about it,” Onca said with a snort. “I wound up doing them both.”

“To their collective delight,” Shemlak said. “They
still
talk about it.”

“Yeah, well, I only did it because Ganyn had an appointment scheduled with Jerden and he’d already gone off the deep end. I quit doing species that required a fluffer after that.”

Although Onca had done his best to honor all of Jerden’s commitments in the wake of Audrey’s murder, the strain had nearly killed him. Jerden had taken a certain satisfaction in fucking Darconians, enjoying the way their scales changed color during orgasm. Onca had never seen the attraction. He hadn’t charged Ganyn because, truth be told, he didn’t think he could do it even with a fluffer. The fact that he had still astonished him.

“What’s a fluffer?” Kim asked.

Roncas twittered. “Someone whose scent keeps the guys…interested. Audrey was the Palace’s fluffer until a crazy Davordian woman killed her because she wanted her job.”

“Which is why I stopped using a fluffer,” Onca declared. “And it’s also why I decided to retire. I didn’t want anyone else getting killed.” He nodded at Shemlak. “Tell Ganyn I’m sorry, but my working days are over—probably forever.”

The Darconian’s laughter was enough to jiggle the glowstones hovering near the ceiling above them. “She’ll be so disappointed.” Shemlak thumped Onca on the back with enough force that he nearly smashed his face into the table—a reminder of how dangerous it was to hang out with Darconians.

Glancing around the restaurant, he noted that for a place that served what were essentially uncooked—although undoubtedly fresh—fruits and vegetables, Oswalak’s was doing a thriving business. They hadn’t had to wait for a table, but the spacious room was filled to near capacity with customers of a dozen different species. The decor, however, was pure Darconian, which meant carved stonework on the walls, stone tables, and stone benches. The furnishings had to be sturdy enough to serve the Darconian clientele, all of whom weighed in at about two thousand kilos.

He nodded toward Jatki. “The Rackenspries made this kid swallow a tracking beacon. Think you could dish up a bowl of
tholuka
berries for her?”

Shemlak laughed even harder. “You
know
what they’ll do to her.”

“Yes, and you needn’t tease the poor girl. Trust me, she feels bad enough already.”

One look at Jatki would have proven his point to just about anyone, including a Darconian. Her skin, which should have been greenish-brown, had a slight yellowish tint to it, and the corners of her enormous mouth had taken a decidedly downward turn. Onca had never been able to understand why a species with arms and legs that looked like sticks needed a mouth that big, and as narrow as her torso was, he doubted it would take more than one bowl of
tholuka
berries to completely expunge the contents of her digestive tract. Jack had expressed similar sentiments once, saying that Kitnocks reminded her of Beaker from
The
Muppet
Show
. Onca had no idea what she meant by that—but then, Jack had some rather antiquated tastes in entertainment.

Onca had tried doing a Kitnock after Audrey’s death, but was forced to admit defeat. Their scent was as asexual as their appearance, and the only difference he had ever been able to discern between the sexes was that the males wore red body stockings while the females wore blue. Never having seen any of them dressed in any other colors or styles led him to believe that even
they
couldn’t tell the difference.

Jatki, however, was unique, and Onca could understand why Kim had been convinced of her identity. The tufts of hair growing from the top of her cylindrical head were purple—a variation Onca had never seen before, and one that clashed horribly with the orange-green tint of Shemlak’s scales.

Onca winced as Shemlak patted Jatki on the back—although he did seem gentler with the Kitnock girl than he’d been with him.

“Don’t worry,” Shemlak said. “We’ll take care of you. If any Racks come around, I’ll step on them.”

That was the other reason for bringing the girls to Oswalak’s. Darconians weren’t impervious to pulse weaponry, but it took a really strong setting to stun one of them. Not that there were many who would even attempt it. Shemlak was big, even for a Darconian, and could probably take out a dozen Rackenspries with one swipe of his tail.

With a wink at Onca, Shemlak swung his head toward the patio. “Hey, Ganyn! Get your scaly tail in here. We’ve got a customer you might want to see.”

Oh, shit…

Moments later, Ganyn, a slightly smaller version of her brother with blue highlights to her otherwise green scales, came in from the patio where she had presumably been waiting tables. “Onca,
baby
. Come to Mama!”

Onca braced himself as Ganyn snatched him off the bench, giving him a hug that squeezed most of the breath from his lungs. “Hey, Ganyn,” he gasped. “Long time, no see.”

Roncas let out another twitter, Kim’s smirk clearly displayed her amusement, while Jatki still seemed stunned by the entire scenario.

“Why don’t you ever come to visit me?” Ganyn demanded. “You sweet, delicious little thing, you.” She kissed him in true Darconian style, swiping her long tongue across his cheek. “I’ve missed you dreadfully.”

Onca patted the top of her head, wishing he had never agreed to fuck a dinosaur woman, for free or otherwise. Then again, saying no to a Darconian wasn’t easy. “Sorry. Been too busy.”

Roncas grinned—a wicked, devious grin. “He’s retired now, so he can see you more often.”

After shooting his former receptionist a look that promised retribution, he gave Ganyn a quick kiss somewhere near her ear. “But only for lunch. Sorry.”

“I understand,” Ganyn said, although she didn’t seem very happy about it. Setting him back on the bench, she nodded at Kim. “A Darconian couldn’t hope to compete with a Zetithian girl, anyway.”

Onca’s mouth fell open. “We only met this morning,” he said after recovering his wits. “She isn’t my mate or anything.”

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Onca realized his mistake.

“Ah. So
that’s
how it is!” With an exhale that sounded more like a hurricane than a sigh, Ganyn leaned down and licked his cheek again. “There’s hope for me then.”

Figuring he had nothing to lose, he aimed a beseeching look across the table at Kim.

She cleared her throat. “I, um, really like him, though. You never know how these things will turn out.”

Onca felt slightly relieved until he noticed her peculiar expression—sort of like she’d been pinged with a pulse pistol.

“I mean, he
did
rescue me from that Herpatronian,” she went on. “And he saved Jatki from the Rackenspries. He’s promised to help me find my missing friends too.”

“Maybe,” Jatki said, speaking up for the first time since their arrival. “I still don’t trust him.”

“Mother of the gods,” Onca muttered. “Here we go again. Why
wouldn’t
you trust me?”

Jatki sat slumped on the bench, looking down at her hands, her slit-like eyes blinking rapidly. “We don’t know anything about you. At least,
I
don’t. I see no reason to trust you.”

“But I
saved
your ass, didn’t I?” he demanded. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Not for me.”

For the first time, it occurred to him that maybe the reason Jatki hadn’t jumped into his speeder right away was because she feared
him
as much as the Racks. She had clung to her side of the speeder during the entire ride to Oswalak’s and was now seated on the opposite side of the table as far away from him as possible. He could understand why she might not
trust
him, but that she seemed
afraid
had him bugged. No one had ever been afraid of him before—or had any reason to be.

“That’s okay,” Roncas said. “She missed the orientation lecture.”

Turning slowly, he gave Roncas his version of the evil eye. “And what
exactly
do you mean by that?”

Kim giggled. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain it to her later.”

“He wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Ganyn said, stroking his hair with a little more force than necessary. “Sweetest man in the galaxy.”

Shemlak let out a snort that made Jatki cringe. “Yeah. Right. Better take their order, Ganyn. As far as you’re concerned, he’s a lost cause.”

***

That
was
weird.

For one brief moment, Kim wished she was the one Onca had kissed. Not only that, she was a bit envious that Ganyn could run her long, scaly fingers through his hair and
she
couldn’t.

Even
weirder.

When it was her turn to order, not trusting herself to look at Onca again, she focused on Roncas instead. “I don’t know what to ask for.”

Onca handed her a menu. She took it without meeting his eyes and glanced at it briefly. “I don’t know what any of this means.”

“She’ll have the fruit,” he said to Ganyn. After the waitress left, he added, “Trust me, you wouldn’t like the vegetables. They’re kinda bland and stringy.”

Accustomed to eating whatever she could get her hands on, Kim wasn’t that particular. She thought he would have figured that out by now, but apparently, he hadn’t.

Another waitress brought their drinks and Kim focused on sipping hers—which wasn’t difficult since it was sweet and frothy and probably the best thing she had ever tasted. Still keeping her eyes fixed on the table in front of her, she was nonetheless aware of Onca’s scrutiny.

“You can’t read very well, can you?” he finally asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

“It wouldn’t be if I hadn’t known Tarq. He had a helluva time learning to read, and he never did get good at it. Something about words being sort of jumbled up when he looked at them. Since you’ve been on the street since the age of ten, I’m guessing you didn’t get to spend much time in school.” He nodded at Jatki. “Or you, either.”

“Jatki taught me some stuff,” Kim said. “She went to school until she was almost thirteen.”

If Onca thought it strange that she was speaking for her friend, he kept it to himself. “I’m not much of a teacher, but I bet Captain could pull up some educational programs. You two could learn all kinds of stuff from him.”

“Great idea,” Roncas said. “He could teach them to annoy the crap out of you.”

“Okay. So maybe it
isn’t
a good idea,” Onca grumbled. “Forget I said anything.”

Kim had just been offered the one thing she wanted most of all, and he was letting it drop? “I think I’d like that. But we need to find our friends first.”

Roncas gave Onca a nudge. “Looks like you’ll be starting a school for street kids.”

“There are already schools like that. I’m offering them a home.”

Kim gaped at him in disbelief. “You’d let us live in your
house
?”

He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Kim could think of a hundred reasons why not. Not the least of which was the way Jatki was trembling.

He
scares
me
, she said in fingerspeak.

“I’m pretty sure we can trust him,” Kim said aloud. She could understand that language far better than she could speak it. Zetithian knuckles didn’t crack quite as easily as those of Kitnocks.

“Yes, you can trust me,” Onca said. “If nothing else, I have Ganyn to vouch for my character. That is, if you trust Darconian waitresses.” He didn’t wait for Jatki to reply before continuing. “So, Jatki. Why don’t you tell us how those little pigs captured you and made you swallow a tracking beacon?”

Jatki reached for Kim’s hand beneath the table, and Kim gave it a reassuring squeeze. Jatki had been so brave while making plans for this mission. Kim didn’t fully understand what her problem was now, unless one of the Rackenspries had hurt her. Then again, they
had
made her swallow a beacon, and somehow Kim doubted Jatki had been very cooperative.

“I—I followed the Herpatronian,” Jatki said. “I thought if I saw where he went, we would know more about where to look for the other girls.”

“Good idea,” Onca said with a nod. “What went wrong?”

“I’m not sure. I think he expected to be followed because he hadn’t gone far when he turned down another street. By the time I got to the corner, he was gone. Then those creeps jumped out and grabbed me.”

“The plot thickens,” Roncas said. “So you never saw where any of them wound up?”