Page 3 of Alien Naga's Prize
The S.C.Britanniais like old England—there’s nothing progressive here. I might have made security officer second class, but I’m never going to make first class, because my name isn’t St.John Cholmondeley, and I don’t have a dick between my legs.
At thirty-two years old, with a stagnant career on a ship which is likely to fail at any time, what have I got to lose?
“Okay.” I flick the chip at her. “Where do I sign up?”
AZUL
“Thought I’d find you here.” The Geltaf slides in next to me at the bar.
I glare into the bottom of my glass. I can see the bottom, which is even more annoying. My tail flicks next to me in a slow tap-tap motion. Anyone can see I want to be alone.
“What do you want?” I growl at him.
“Oh, is that the way you greet all your best and only friend in the galaxy, and your employer?” He chortles, raising two of his eight fingers at the barkeeper. “Can anyone join your pity party?”
“Fak off, Tisel,” I growl at him, although I take the drink he’s ordered and down half of it in one. “I don’t need any pep talks right now.”
“You never need a pep talk. You’re my best bounty hunter, and you got your mark, didn’t you?” Tisel says, dipping his third hand into the snacks on the bar.
“You do know what goes into those?” I say with disinterest as he shoves a load into his deep blue face.
“Do I look like I care?” he says through a mouthful of crumbs.
I shrug. If he doesn’t care, I don’t care.
“Come on, you scaly bastard.” He elbows me in the side with his fourth arm. “I’ve got a new job for you because I know you’re never happy unless you’re working.”
Another job. It’s all I live for because it’s all I have. I stare into the bottom of the empty glass again before waggling it at the barkeeper. Tonight is the night for getting drunk. I’ll deal with everything else some other time.
“Here.” Tisel slides a vid-screen across the bar top. I give it a cursory glance, attempting to keep my tail under control and my hood from rising in interest.
I’m here to get wasted, not take another job.
Tisel spins the vid-screen towards me. I hiss under my breath. How can this Geltaf push all my buttons?
“Wait. This is on a pleasure planet?” I spot the co-ordinates. “Nope. Not happening.”
“Not only could you do with some pleasure in your life,” Tisel says as the barkeeper pushes my drink and a shot I didn’t order under my nose, both of which are gone in an instant, “but you’re the only hunter I trust to get this mark in this situation.”
The alcohol burns as it travels down past my fangs and into my stomach. An empty stomach. I will regret my choices…in the morning if I don’t use my venom to neutralize it.
“I don’t do pleasure planets. You know I don’t, not after…” I stare up at the dirty ceiling of the dive bar. “Not after what happened.”
Tisel makes a huffing sound. “Your family are hardly going to follow you around to find out if you’re mated yet, not if you’re any good at being an unseen bounty hunter, which you are,” he says. “So you jilted one mate at the ceremony. Haven’t we all?”
I grab his throat, the folds of blue flesh sinking around my claws. “Have you?”
“I’ve been married five times.” He chuckles. “Each wife was better than the last. It was a shame I didn’t change. You’re well rid,” he adds.
I let him go and hold up my hands to the barkeeper who puts the blaster back under the counter and goes back to polishing the grimy glasses. This is a bounty hunter bar after all, and he’s used to occasional altercation.
“I’m not doing a pleasure planet. Find someone else,” I growl, allowing one fang to drip some venom which I wipe away ostentatiously.
I needn’t have bothered. It doesn’t work on Tisel. My erstwhile employer simply orders another round. This is going to be a long night…
So, when I wake up in a strange bed, my head spinning and my scales tight, it’s only what I deserve.
“Morning!” Tisel trills, walking past me entirely naked, rolls of blue flesh wobbling as one hand scratches a buttock.