Chapter 26
With a crate of Kaesare’s confiscated goods meant for a resort on a central Backworld, Craze scrubbed, oiled, and polished his skin to glowing, his teeth to brilliant, and his fingernails to a luster. He found a new shirt in a dapper shade of violet that fit his torso like a second skin, and he had refurbished his living quarters as lavishly as a planetlord’s to entertain his guests. His wrists gleamed with chords of platinum, and he’d found a fire rock ring set in steel to decorate one pinky. None of the other bands had fit his brawny hands, otherwise he’d have chosen the sunstone.
His dust-encrusted coveralls ruined the impression he wanted to make. He thought about removing them in favor of some fancy gray slacks, but he’d be too prone to hibernating if he did. Eventually, he’d convince Rainly to make him a more debonair pair. Definitely once Dactyl recovered.
He approved the landing of the incoming transport, leaving Rainly at her vigil, and stood on deck to greet some of the folks he’d invited to come pick up their wares. It took a lot of talking and begging over several tab conversations to persuade Pauder into giving up the key codes to the guest rooms. The old man only did so on the provision the rents were pinged directly to him.
As much as he loved chips, Craze had no intention of charging these folks. The currency for their stay derived from good will and future business. Not only did he intend to usher in a new era for himself, but for the whole of Pardeep. He’d learn Chenna’s secrets then best her at building a world to be reckoned with.
“That’s sounding a might too Verkinn. Can’t just wad people up like used wrappers. Sooner or later that kind of business will bite me in the ass,” he lectured himself, straightening his cuffs and the glitzy platinum chains around his wrists. They were thick enough to add heft and substantial enough to divert weapons fire. That made them extra appealing.
The transport’s dented hull had a peeling-blue ceramic coating close to the same shade as Pardeep’s sky, and it took over the view. The dusty horizon disappeared behind metallic craters, bolts as big as Craze’s head, and scraps of advertising heralding bygone days, days before the Fo’wo’s started the slaughter, days when Backworlders had hopes for bright tomorrows.
Craze checked the gun tucked into his pocket and the stunner strapped to his hip—the requisite attire for any welcoming committee, and, in this case, a committee of one. He tried not to admit he felt vulnerable, squinting his eyes and grunting. “I’ve got to get some hire-ons. Yesterday.”
The docking facility shuddered and banged as the incoming ship settled into its assigned berth. The engines roared like a beast, blustering enough to cushion the vessel and building from a clumsy landing.
In an amiable hello, a bridge extended from Pardeep Station, inviting the passengers to disembark. Their first impression besides Craze would be the billboards flashing the local entertainments and services. Only if anyone insisted on one of Pauder’s adventurous tours, it’d be up to Craze to conduct it. Crap. He should’ve taken that one down.
Donning his best smile, the one that dimpled his cheeks, he picked up a tray holding tiny plasticine cups of mulled mead. The miniature stemware branched out like blooming peonies and the mead sat inside like nectar. Steaming in snaking tendrils, it perfumed the air, adding cinnamon, citrus, and clove; a greeting as cordial as Craze’s grin.
Boots clomped down the tunnel, sounding like an army, increasing in clamor until they burst out onto the station. A pair of small, round, bald men stepped into the light. They blinked up at Craze. “This rock have any good winds?” They each had four legs and tiny slits for eyes.
Strange question, but not the strangest Craze had ever heard. The Sprinkler still held that distinction. “Pardeep has plenty of good gusts ‘n gales. You just missed one.” These folks seemed genetically inclined to enjoy one of the moon’s great natural resources. Maybe he wouldn’t have to waste any chocolate on them.
In unison, their shoulders heaved in a sigh. “Too bad.”
“No worries. More will be comin’.” He offered them both a sample of his mead.
Eagerly they snatched the little cups, downed the contents, and reached for more. “Yum num. Best I ever tasted.” They blinked at each other, speaking the same words at the same time, giggling, then blinking up at Craze.
Moving the tray out of range, he shook a finger. “One per person. You can get more in there.” He pointed at his new tavern gleaming behind the spotless glass doors. White lights resembling stars sparkled off the icy blue epoxy, and the brilliant red circles edging the new tables beckoned like lures. So caught up in the beauty of it, Craze almost missed the next group.
Three folks muscled onto Pardeep, a tall man flanked by two burly friends elbowing each other and glaring at the shadows then at Craze and the two bald guys, daring anybody to inhale wrong. They rolled their shoulders and barreled at Craze like a charging wall of menace. Just before bowling him over, they stopped and sneered. A stench wafted off of them like burnt leaves. Already Craze hated them, but he offered them a polite welcome and drinks.
As quickly as courtesy allowed, he peered around them, searching for Chenna of Vodag, the visitor he most wanted to meet. He didn’t see her, but his gaze fell on one of the most stunning Backworlders he’d ever seen. A robust, curvy gal clothed in a clingy green dress. She had delicate oval spots on her ankles, wrists, and neck, all the tender areas, making him wonder where else the tangerine spots appeared. Orange waves, the exact color of a delightful sunrise, tumbled down to her waist and she aimed a wide, sweet smile right at him.
“Mead?’ he offered with a flirtatious bow and wave of his hand. “Welcome to Pardeep Station.”
Her big, dark eyes glanced over her shoulder at Chenna, who finally tottered into view. “Mother?”
“Ya here for business, Orcille. No.” Chenna waved Craze and his mead away. “Where’s my stuff, gopperhop?”
None of Chenna’s words registered once Craze heard the lovely gal’s name. Orcille rang in his flat, indistinct ears like the whisper of chips falling into his coffers. “Perhaps you is hungry? Can I offer you some ricklit stew?”
Chenna grabbed onto his shirt, practically lifting him off the ground. He hadn’t anticipated such strength. “Ya use my merchandise in your stew? I ought to dice ya up in a stew.”
He tugged himself out of her grip and straightened the wrinkles she put in his new shirt. “No, they’s my ricklits. I brought them here from Siegna.” He had to convince her or their potential alliance was done.
Her chafed mouth veered to one side. “The latest Verkinn home world. Has your kin succeeded in running off the Croakers yet?”
No news from Siegna had reached his ear holes since he had left, except for a brief call from his ex right after he’d been chased away. That certainly didn’t count. “They share with the Croakers.”
She cackled, slapping him on the back. “For now. Ya a loyal son of a bitch. Next time I see an elder I’ll say so.”
Last thing he needed was the Verkinn elders taking an interest in his affairs. He didn’t want them anywhere near his potential profits. He couldn’t forgive them for taking his father’s side, the jabs they’d given him with their prodders, or them labeling him a leecher. After all that malarkey, the only business Craze wanted with the elders was to boot them off Pardeep like they’d done to him. His fingers slid over his stunner, picturing them yelping and scurrying back onto their transport. What a day that would be. “I don’t need any good words.”
Chenna’s enormous, dark eyes reflected his image and actions, as if she condemned him to an alternate Lilliputian, distorting his grimace like a telephoto lens and magnifying a past he didn’t want to remember. Feeling very exposed, he crossed his arms over his chest.
She cackled. “Gopperhop, that’s no what ya told me on the tab. Ya said ya’d hang on my every syllable.”
Bad blood, traitorous fathers, grievous injuries that left permanent scars, none of that mattered right now. He couldn’t offend her and miss out on this opportunity to learn from a gifted businesswoman. Odds were no other chance would come his way again. “I will, I’ll savor every lovely one that falls from your tongue. But you talkin’ to the Verkinn elders isn’t talkin’ to me.”
The stern demeanor dropped from her lips and eyes. “Ya flirting with me?” She slipped an arm through his. “That’s allowed. Get rid of the rest of the goons, ‘n I’ll talk to ya the rest of the day.”
His gaze flickered to Orcille, wishing she fawned over him instead, but he knew she swayed in front of him as some sort of test. He led Chenna into his tavern, Orcille on their heels like an obedient pet, then he locked the glass doors.
At the bar he picked up several white cubes, each key easily fitting into his palm; easier still, they dangled from chords, ready to be carried by the dozens. Inviting all his guests to follow him, Craze proceeded through the doors leading to the elevators, and once everyone passed through, he sealed up his tavern tight. “We’ll get you settled in your rooms.”
Down they rode past the residential spaces to the guest quarters, the best Pardeep had to offer. With Wolney and Meelo’s help, he’d scrubbed and furnished the whole floor. Granted he only needed a handful of rooms, but the flood of visitors would come. No way could he afford to believe otherwise.
At the first door, he pressed a cube to the doorframe. The frame turned purple and so did the cube. When a soft chime rang out, he held the key out for the round, bald guys. “It’s a suite, but if you want separate rooms, just say.”
“We’ll share,” they said, grabbing the entry code out of Craze’s hand. They fought over who would strap the chord to their wrist, their squabbling screeching to an agonizing pitch.
Craze keyed a second cube to the doorframe and handed it over; relieved when they hushed up and went inside. He hoped the other guests would share, otherwise he’d have to go back upstairs.
At the next suite, he made the same offer to the dudes who smelled like burned leaves. They accepted one lodging and didn’t require any extra keys. The same went for Chenna and Orcille.
When at last alone with the women, Craze smiled at Chenna. “The suites is central world class, but perhaps you’d be more comfortable talkin’ to me the rest of the day some place more homey? My place?”
“That’s one of the smoothest invites I ever heard.” Chenna batted her big, brown eyes. Her round cheeks colored and dimpled. “I’d like to freshen up first.”
Craze nodded. “There’s hot water for bathin’ ‘n hot air for dryin’. You’ll find lotions, soaps, ‘n oils provided for you.” He imagined rubbing oils into Orcille’s spotted flesh while beaming at her mother. He let the fantasy of the daughter beguile his jaw and cheeks and thrust a proposal into his eyes. He slathered that solicitous gaze over Chenna and inched closer, licking his lips. “You need anythin’ else?” No harm would come from her thinking he desired her, in fact it might help loosen the knowledge tucked up in her brain.
Her complexion grew brighter the longer he stared. Audibly, she swallowed. “Ya treat me like a nugget of chocolate.”
“To me, you is.” Grinning, he gave her the directions to his home before leaving.