Held by Luna Voss

28

Melyta

We receive Arthur Gallo’s response in exactly 4 days, the minimum amount of time possible. His reply is simple, and it doesn’t even contain words. Just a set of coordinates for a space station in a system halfway between Gerbbbexai and Tarsheb. The four of us fly out immediately, Jenyta piloting the Epeshi ship once again.

“You guys are sure this is a good idea?” says Jenyta, glancing around at us as we cruise out of Gerbbbexai IX’s atmosphere.

“It’s the only idea,” says Barion firmly. “But yes, it’s a good one.”

He squeezes my hand, giving me a look that’s filled with pride. I beam back at him, melting slightly at the approval in his eyes.

“You guys can get a room, you know,” Korva pipes up as my mate leans in to kiss me.

“Shut up,” Barion whispers, pressing his lips against mine without a hint of shame.

He pulls me onto his lap and holds me there, stroking my hair and making me feel small and loved as Jenyta launches the ship into hyperspace.

We arrive a day later in some system with a name so long none of us can pronounce it. Jenyta maneuvers us slowly in the direction of the space station.

“Again, just to clarify. It’s okay that we’re docking a pirate ship?”

“Perfectly okay,” Korva assures her. “We’re dealing with sketchy people, Jenyta.”

“What are human mobsters like?” I ask, realizing my only experience is with Voorian organized crime. “Anything we should know about them?”

He shakes his head. “They’re a lot like us. If you know vostrata, you know human gangsters. Customs are a little different, of course, but we’re all just slightly different flavors of scumbag.”

Jenyta snorts, as though she found that funny.

“Ready to dock?” asks Barion

She gulps. “Yeah. Hailing the station now.”

* * *

Barion

Brukterabacorithituskal Space Station is a place I’ve never been before, and will hopefully never be again. Hell, I’ve got the system’s name right in front of me on the computer screen and I couldn’t say it correctly if my life depended on it.

Thankfully, my life doesn’t depend on it. But it does depend on the very powerful, very dangerous man we’re about to meet with there.

Everything does.

I do my best to keep my nerves in check as we dock and exit the ship. I’m the one with the power here, I remind myself. I’m the one with the ditrykium mine.

“This place is grimy,” Melyta whispers to me, taking my hand as we walk out of the hangar as a group.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Stay close to me.”

All around us, aliens of different stripes go about their business, some of them taking the time to leer at us as though we’re unwelcome outsiders. There are a lot of Epeshis about, and I wonder what they might think about us showing up in one of their ships.

But no matter. They don’t know us, and we don’t know them, and I have every intention of keeping it that way. We’re here for one person only: Arthur Gallo, leader of the Gallo Family, the man who might be our only ticket to eliminating Sarizor Dultaz for good.

If everything goes according to plan, soon he and I will both be the leaders of our respective crime families.

My communicator buzzes. A message. Sent out locally, from Arthur Gallo’s contact information.

I’m in the cantina. Fancy a drink?

I show the message to Melyta, who shrugs.

“Looks like we’re heading to the bar,” I announce to Korva and Jenyta.

The cantina is packed, pretty much whatever image you have in your head of a sleazy spaceport bar. I’m pretty sure half the patrons around us are pirates, and the other half don’t look like they have jobs that pay taxes. Our kind of people. A couple of old-timers eye us suspiciously as we enter, clearly regulars, but I pay them no mind. My eyes are scanning for Arthur Gallo, a man I haven’t seen in 15 years.

And then I see him, or at least someone who matches the image I have in my head. He’s the same age as Sarizor, and no less tall and wiry, but without the same obvious cruelty lining his face. Even at a glance, he reads as more calculated, less emotional. I like that. Those are qualities you want in an ally.

“Barion,” he greets us, looking up from an impossibly colorful drink that would be more appropriate on a beach somewhere than a dimly lit pirate hub. “I was very surprised to receive your message. But intrigued. Very, very intrigued. Consider yourself to have my interest.”

He gestures for us to sit down and we do, all four of us packing awkwardly onto the circular bench surrounding the table. I make sure to put myself in between him and Melyta.

“Arthur,” he greets us, extending his hand. “Come on, Voorians know how to shake hands, right? We’re all friends here. Let’s shake hands.”

We indulge him, taking his rough, calloused hand one by one in that very human of greetings.

“Korva,” my once-lieutenant introduces himself, looking the Gallo boss in the eyes.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” says Arthur with a smile that shockingly appears genuine. “You and Barion must trust me to have brought your mates along.”

Immediately, Jenyta’s face goes red.

“We trust we’ll be able to make an arrangement that will be rewarding for both of us,” Korva replies evenly, and I’m glad he doesn’t waste time correcting him. That’s not Arthur’s business, and it’s an unnecessary distraction. Next to me, I see Melyta kick her friend under the table, warning her not to interject.

“And what exactly is that arrangement?”

“The present we gave you,” I break in. “There’s a lot more where that came from.”

“I assumed that’s why you were comfortable sending it to me,” says Arthur, not reacting even a little to my words. “And as I’ve said, you have my interest. But that leaves the question of what it is you want in return. Somehow, I don’t think you’re looking to give away ditrykium for free.”

Korva and I both react slightly at his use of the word ditrykium. We’ve only been using coded language to refer to it in public. But the human just smiles.

“Everyone within two tables of us is a Gallo soldier that I hand-picked,” he explains. “You can speak freely.”

I try not to be concerned by his words. I knew that was a possibility, maybe even a probability. We’re not here because we have superior firepower. We’re here because we have something to offer. If Arthur Gallo wanted to kill us now, he could do it.

But he hasn’t, and I’m confident that he won’t. And that’s a good sign, because according to his alliance with the Dultaz family, he should. He’s betraying Sarizor by meeting with us at all.

I draw myself up in my seat. “What we gave you was just a sample,” I tell Arthur. “We’re offering you a cut of the mine.”

To my satisfaction, his immaculate poker face shatters for just a moment and I see real greed, real hunger in his eyes. Then he leans forward, back to playing cool.

“You have access to a ditrykium mine?”

“We own a ditrykium mine.”

Again, his feigned coolness cracks, and I see the excitement there. We’ve got him. We’ve fucking got him.

“And where is this mine?”

I laugh. “Nice try.”

“And how am I supposed to know this mine is even real? You could have gotten a ball of ditrykium anywhere.”

“Because we’ll show it to you. We’ll take you there. Right now, if you like.”

“It’s close to here?”

“It’s somewhere. We won’t be telling you the coordinates.”

Arthur leans back, biting his lip as though thinking. “That requires a lot of trust. You expect me to come with you to some random part of the galaxy without even knowing where I am?”

This is in the bag. It’s in the fucking bag. He wants what we have, and he isn’t hiding it as well as he thinks. Now we get to play hardball.

“Yes,” I tell him. “That’s exactly what we expect. Unless you’d prefer we took this offer to someone else.”

His lips twitch, and I could swear I see a flash of amusement.

“You’ve grown, Barion,” says Arthur, his face impassive. “Since we last met. You’ve grown into quite a man.”

I allow myself to put on a smile, and it isn’t fake. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

“Of course I remember. You must have been what, 16? Poor little orphan boy, taken in by the Dultaz Family, raised by the Vostra, precocious as all hell and bored as all hell at the funeral for a man you didn’t even know in your too-big suit. I wondered if you’d manage to make something of yourself. It made me happy when I heard you’d been promoted to underboss. Turns out I was right about you.”

His words linger for a moment before I answer. “I was 17,” I tell him. “I think I was scared of you. It was my first time meeting members of the other crime families.”

“And are you scared of me now?”

I smirk playfully, pointing to his glass. “How could I be scared of a man sipping a drink like that?”

Arthur chuckles. “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.” He flags down a Dajorkan bartender as she walks past: “Excuse me, miss? Four more Rainbow Explosions for my friends. And another for me as well.”

“I like the way this guy thinks,” Korva jokes. “Even if his taste in drinks is questionable.”

The human gangster grins at him, and his smile is warm, friendly. I’m not surprised he’s been successful within the human mob. He has the exact same personal qualities I’m used to seeing in powerful Vostra figures. “You think it’s questionable now. Wait until you’re on your second Rainbow Explosion. Best cocktail in this part of the galaxy for my money.”

Under the table, Melyta reaches for my hand. I interlock my fingers with her, taking comfort in her warmth the same way I know she is in mine. Next to me, Arthur glances at her, and she holds his gaze.

“I suppose I should apologize to both of you for that business at the Zog Royal Resort,” he says, fingers toying with the stem of his glass. “It’s a nasty thing, going after a couple while they’re on vacation.”

“It was our honeymoon,” says Melyta, somewhat coldly but with the right amount of casualness to indicate she’s no longer holding a grudge.

“That makes it far worse. I do apologize.”

She shrugs. “Under the right circumstances, I could consider it a nonissue between us. Besides, it was your men who paid the price.”

Arthur makes eye contact with me. “I like her.”

I grin, showing my fangs just a little. “So do I.”

“I suppose all that’s left is for you to tell me exactly what you want in return for this partnership.”

I lean forward, looking him dead in the eyes. “Sarizor’s head. And your support for me as leader of the Dultaz Family.”

“Here you are, folks!” says our waitress cheerily, arriving with a platter of five multicolored drinks. “For those of you who don’t know, the Rainbow Explosion is our signature cocktail here at Brukterabacorithituskal Station. It’s even more delicious than our name is long! You all let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you, okay?”

The silence at our table is thick as she distributes our cocktails. Arthur Gallo sips his drink, maintaining eye contact with me, a little smile playing at his lips.