Tearn hadn’t taken his eyes off the gold and glass lift since Izo had entered it and disappeared to the lofty heights above. He hated the idea of letting their prized Avarian out of their sight, but what could he do? Only Avarians were being taken to the upper floors. It’d been a surprise that Deneus had snuck in too. The club was working exactly as designed—the more the night waned, the more floating creatures were ushered upstairs. The main floor, so packed and promising at the beginning of the evening, had now been virtually emptied of all Avarians, like an over-fished lake.
Not that Tearn cared about anyone else. All he wanted was Izo to come back. But he never would. It had only taken one day and poof! He was theirs now—the Mountain’s. Sure, Deneus would send them a check now and then, and Izo might eventually show up for his ride home. But until then Izo was, literally and figuratively, too far above him to touch. After all, what Avarian in their right mind would ever return to these lowly spaces after having tasted the towering, glamourous life up above?
Yula was off dancing with a group of people, fluffs of fur flying everywhere and having a great time. Even Glongkyle, Tearn pouted, had found a barely-flying Avarian to snipe with and argue the night away, though whether it was romantic or not, Tearn couldn’t tell. He would have gladly taken either of their spots, but it seemed no one in the enormous, packed club would talk to him.
No, sadly, the only person he cared about was already gone.
Tearn groaned and picked up his drink. It was a bitter but powerful concoction, a rare spirit that few could appreciate, which was fitting since he’d never felt so lonely in his life. Thinking maybe he was fated to be alone forever, he failed to notice a small cluster of nearby strangers shiver unconsciously before stepping further away.
Tearn tipped his head down onto the table. He was in physical pain. Nothing had ever hurt like this. He’d never be able to find anyone like Izo again. Maybe he was better off just going home. He had enough saved to get a decent place on Ginarsia. Maybe he could finally go back to school to be a therapist?
And then, fresh and sudden as an unexpected rain, there was Izo.
Tearn stood. He moved around the table. “He’s back. Yula, Glongkyle—he’s back!” Pushing into the crowd, he hurried to meet their Avarian and his new agent.
But Glongkyle beat him there. “Where the hell did you go?” he hissed at Deneus. “We’ve been stuck down here for two hours, waiting.”
Deneus signaled everyone to follow. “We’re meeting Senator Malogue Di’Mortaco at the entrance of the club.”
Glongkyle blinked. “I must have misheard that. You said we’re meeting who at the where?”
Deneus waved them along. “Senator Malogue Di’Mortaco at the entrance of the club.”
“We’re meeting a Senator?” Tearn asked while following quickly.
Izo nodded. “Yeah. He’s sort of an asshole.”
“Back up.” Glongkyle stopped short. “Why are we meeting a Senator at the entrance of the club?”
“Because he invited us to dinner. And before you ask—no, I don’t know why. For some reason, he’s very interested in Izo. I haven’t figured it out. Either way, I think this could work in our favor as long as…and I really hate to ask this but…” He made a cringing expression at the group. “Are you guys comfortable lying to someone for a while?”
Tearn and Glongkyle froze.
Izo had covered his mouth and was making a strange, wide-eyed expression of amazement. “I think we could probably manage that,” he answered for everyone.
“Good. Because I need everyone to basically act like Izo’s royalty. Yula.” Deneus drew the attention of the inebriated Wuljerian still bopping along to the music. “You’re going to be Izo’s bodyguard. If Izo’s in danger or uncomfortable, you’ll come to his rescue. Okay?”
The Wuljerian frowned. “Yula protects Izo.”
“Exactly. You got it,” said Deneus, impressed.
Shrugging, Yula turned to continue dancing.
“Tearn.” Deneus looked at the tiny Ginarsian. “You’re the snippy best friend. Everything Izo doesn’t like, you don’t like. Everything he sneers at, you sneer at. You always back him up. You laugh at all his jokes. As far as you’re concerned, he’s amazing and magical and no one’s ever going to be good enough for him.”
Tearn gazed up at Izo with adoration. “Doesn’t sound that hard.”
“YES! You’re secretly in love with him! That’s perfect. Use it,” said Deneus.
Izo and Tearn looked away from each other awkwardly.
“Glongkyle.” Deneus turned to the last member of the group. His face split in a pained expression. “Do you want to meet us back at the hotel?”
Glongkyle brandished both hands angrily. “No! I am pivotal to this team, gods dammit! If it wasn’t for me and my ship, none of this—”
“You’re the driver! That’s great. Stay off to one side, don’t talk much, and if anyone says anything to you, be as gruff and abrasive as possible.”
“Think you can do that?” said Izo sarcastically.
Glongkyle huffed and didn’t answer.
“Izo, you have the most important part.” Deneus spun to the last member of their group. “You’re the object of desire: the mysterious and aloof beauty. Everything you do adds to your mystique. You are an enigma of bewildering allure and utter unattainability.”
Izo frowned. “But I’m also like really tough and street smart too, right? Like, I may be good-looking, but I can secretly handle myself.”
“Sure.” Deneus spun to everyone. “We got this? Do you understand how this works? We have a really big fish on the line and all we need is a little finesse to reel him in.”
“Plus free meal,” said Yula.
“Can I get an amen?” said Izo.
“Wait,” said Glongkyle, waving his arms angrily. “Does this mean I have to go around kissing Izo’s butt all night? Hell no! I’m never going to hear the end of it. This is a stupid idea. I’m out.”
“We don’t have time for this!” Deneus said. He whirled on Glongkyle angrily. “You realize we’ve already been defrauding an Imperial Senator for the last twenty minutes after breaking onto his property? Do you have any idea what kind of charges could be brought against us? Izo has no documents. We’re not supposed to be here.” Shoving a finger in Glongkyle’s face, he looked ready to bite the reptile’s head off. “If we are doing this, there’s no backing out. Do you understand?”
The group hesitated. The agent was right. Tearn and Glongkyle had been kidnapping and extorting Avarians for years, but they’d never run a scam on a high-ranking official before. In a way, Tearn wasn’t surprised though. Like everything in life, they were bound to get better at scheming eventually. It had always been dangerous and, sure, the stakes were higher. But wasn’t that a good thing?
It was weird. Tearn was so used to ignoring that little voice that said this was wrong, he wasn’t entirely sure how to objectively take stock of his choices anymore. In a strange way, the bigger and more terrible their actions, the less any individual choice seemed to matter. But the truth was these were big decisions—enormous decisions, actually, with massive consequences. He knew it because every time he stopped to imagine any of it actually being exposed, a cold spiral of panic filled his chest.
He looked at Glongkyle for reassurance, but their captain’s normal brash confidence seemed equally halted.
“What do you think?” Tearn asked Glongkyle. “Dinner with a Senator?”
Glongkyle chewed on one of his claws. Finally, he let out a stilted shrug. “We already used the gas to get here.”
Tearn stepped into the Senator’s private shuttle and stopped. It was the most amazing vehicle he’d ever seen. With six tan captain chairs near the front and two creamy sectionals near the back, it featured black and gold Virtuvian stone and two touchscreen panels running its full length on either side. A vision of luxury, it looked more like a parlor in a penthouse than one of the fastest small-cabin spacecrafts in the universe.
Glongkyle whistled and moved around Tearn. “Snazzy.” He and Yula plunked down into the two captain seats, pointing out and playing with all the dials and controls. “This isn’t some bucket of bolts with crystals glued in. This thing is solid.” Seeing one knob in particular, Glongkyle’s mouth dropped. “This is an SVS?”
“Of course.” The Senator dropped into the middle of the nearest sectional. “Why would you fly anything else?”
Because you couldn’t afford it, thought Tearn. He glanced at the tall and handsome Senator with quiet disdain. Impossibly rich and famous since birth, he’d probably gotten the best out of life without ever giving it a second thought. He’d never stretched a meal two days between four people or had to figure out which one of three major ship problems could wait the longest to be fixed. He was the type of person whose needs and wants were so utterly guaranteed, he’d missed ever distinguishing them.
Patting the seat nearest himself, the Senator made a summoning noise at Izo.
But their Izo was no docile beauty. Instead, the Avarian ignored this and continued wandering around, taking in the ship’s screens and consoles with interest. “Tearn, what’s an SVS?”
Tearn smiled. He could already feel his mood brightening as some of his favorite memories from the Atrox floated back. Izo, the ever-curious beauty, had spent weeks aboard the ship asking and learning about alien civilization and life as they slowly cataloged Izo’s native language.
“It stands for Super Versatile Spacecraft,” Tearn explained, stepping closer to the Earthling. “Ships like this can take off or land almost anywhere.”
“We could touch down on a lava planet in the middle of hurricane season. You’d never feel a thing.” The Senator spread his wide arms out over the back of the chair. “Trust me, there’s no place safer than in here.”
Izo’s sharp eyes shifted to the Senator. “It can go to other planets?”
“Anywhere you want.” The Senator kicked off his shoes. “Though, you do have to sit down first.”
Izo frowned but relented. Padding over, he chose a corner spot further down from the splayed Senator. Tearn, following, took the seat next to him while Deneus, ever the hovering agent, sat a short distance over from Tearn.
“Could it get to another galaxy?” asked Izo.
Tearn, realizing where Izo was going with this, shared a wary glance with Glongkyle.
The Senator touched his mouth and seemed to think it over. Then, sliding over suddenly, he wrapped Izo under his arm. “You know, I think it could.”
Izo bristled and moved to rise, but the Senator held him tight.
“Sorry, gorgeous, but passengers have to stay seated during taking off.” The Senator peered down at the Avarian with twinkling amusement. “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
Izo glared, but, sure enough, a moment later they could feel the rumble of the powerful machine lifting them into the skies.
Glongkyle whistled as the seven-story nightclub dropped away like a drawing falling past the window. “How does it climb like that?” He looked around in amazement. “I didn’t even feel it.”
“It’s the anti-drag absorption. Tiny turbines swirl the cabin to keep your liquid and solid masses balanced during takeoff.” He grinned at Izo. “Latest and greatest of Malacorp. Pretty cool, huh?”
Izo pushed the Senator’s arm off his shoulder and managed to scoot a few inches away. “How fast could it get to another galaxy?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
The Senator shrugged. “Bunch of stuff: the galaxy’s quadrant, the gravity flux nearby…” He grinned and poked Izo in the cheek. “How good its passengers are in bed.”
Izo cleared his throat loudly while shooting a savage glare at Deneus.
The Senator laughed. “Something wrong?”
“No,” Izo said in a testy voice, but he pushed into Tearn as he continued to scoot further and further away, exciting Tearn beyond words. “I just don’t usually talk to strangers about sex.”
“Why not?” asked the Senator. “The best sex is with strangers.”
Izo, satisfied with his new spot, sighed and put his hands in his lap. “I suppose that’s one opinion.”
“Opinion? It’s a universal fact. What, you think it’s better when both parties have known each other? Why? Because of some deep, metaphysical connection? Because you’ve discovered all each other’s likes and dislikes?” Stretching an arm out, he wiggled his fingers over Izo’s shoulder. “All each other’s secret tingly places?”
Izo knocked the Senator away. “Hands off, burro.”
Senator Mortaco gave Izo a sympathetic frown. “Don’t be silly. Most species have roughly the same tingly places. It doesn’t take years to figure out. Just a little honest bravery.”
Izo started to respond, but the Senator held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s adorable that you still think a relationship is important. Admirable even. But the truth is, going to town on someone you just met?” He breathed in as if reveling the idea. “Pretty much the most fun you can have in life.”
Izo’s lip curled. Tearn could feel that disgust pouring off the Earthling like rusted molasses. But he was in character. He didn’t respond.
“You don’t believe me? I’ll prove it.” The Senator laughed, sitting up. “It’s dirty. It’s exhilarating. Best of all, it costs nothing. All the time and effort we spend designing diversions and amusements—how many people wouldn’t trade it all for the chance to be with a beautiful stranger?” He shrugged. “It’s no one’s fault. It’s a carnal impulse, a natural function of biology. Your own brain was hardwired to reward you for doing it.” He tilted his head at Izo. “No point in fighting nature, beautiful.”
Tearn’s jaw clenched. The dark, rich politician hovered over their pure Avarian like a dusk-to-evening shadow. The Ginarsian wanted nothing more than to hop off his seat and kick the man in the shin.
The Senator had leaned one cheek onto his fist. He was still waiting for Izo’s response.
“That’s a weirdly convincing monologue,” said Tearn.
“You’re too kind,” said the Senator without taking his eyes of Izo.
“Do you use it often?” said Tearn.
Tearn was gratified to see Izo tip back with laughter. “It’s neta! You’re right. He probably says this stuff to Avarians all the time. Damn, ese. You almost had me going for a second!”
A look of confusion flashed over Malogue Di’Mortaco’s face. “I’m sorry?”
Reaching over Izo, Tearn patted the larger man on the leg. “Good hustle.”
Izo clapped his hands and laughed even harder. “I forgot about ‘Good hustle!’”
“‘Good hustle?’” the Senator repeated, confused. Tearn laughed. He already knew how his automatic translator was confusing him with the literal meaning of the sport’s metaphor. How did he know? Because Tearn had got the meaning of the phrase wrong the first time through.
Tearn waved it off. “It’s an inside joke.”
The Senator shot an angry look at Tearn. “Maybe you could elaborate?”
Tearn broke into an impish smile at Izo. “How should I explain it?”
“It’s a phrase for when someone’s playing a game and loses,” Izo said.
Tearn nodded, remembering back fondly. Bored for weeks on the Atrox Killboard, the two of them had spent countless hours inventing silly games and distractions in Izo’s tiny, locked cabin, shooting dried vegetables into a bucket or spitting water at cups. They’d come up with all sorts of dumb competitions to play while stuck in zero gravity.
Tearn, naturally, had lost by droves. Afterward, Izo would always tell him the same thing: “Good hustle.” When he originally translated it, he’d only put it down as “running quickly” because Izo hadn’t understood he needed to explain its metaphorical meanings too. It was only later during their games that he’d figured out its normal context and use. He’d liked the meaning of the phrase so much he’d started using it whenever Izo tried to convince Tearn to help him escape: “No can do, kid. But good hustle.”
Toward the end of the trip, when it was time to edit and compile Izo’s language, Tearn had decided on a whim not to add the second meaning. Why? Because it was their inside joke.
“It basically means ‘Nice try,’” finished Tearn.
“Try? You think this is me trying?” It was the Senator’s turn to laugh now. “You poor, sweet thing. This is me taking my time.”
Izo’s laughter died away. “Do you mind doing it a little further over, vato? This pobretón can still smell how you were killing time upstairs.”
“You want me to move over? Fine,” said the Senator. “But I need a favor from you.”
Izo crossed his arms. “What is it?”
The Senator smiled and twisted around to face a walled panel above and behind them. Magically, it popped open.
Inside was a cascading collection of some of the finest spirits in the universe waiting patiently in static chill. And then, with zero prompting, a Dfritian liqueur suddenly pulled away from the group and moved forward to the front with two glittering cups.
Grasping and filling the cups, the Senator handed one to Izo. “Don’t make me drink alone?”
Izo took the cup and smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He handed it to Tearn.
“Oh. Thank you.” Tearn brought the cup to his nose. It smelled of honeyed flowers. He couldn’t help frowning with an impressed look. Dfritian liqueurs, after all, were powerful, bitter intoxicants that took several decades, sometimes centuries, to fully smooth out and mellow. This one had been carefully aged to a sweet and delectable perfection. He lifted a brow at Izo. “This is quality stuff.”
“¿Verdad?” asked Izo. He turned and called out to Glongkyle and Yula at the other end of the shuttle. “You guys want some?”
“We getting drinks?” asked Glongkyle, hopping up.
“Drinks are good,” agreed Yula, getting up as well.
Izo grinned and turned back to the Senator as the others gathered. “You heard them. Drinks for everyone.”
The Senator laughed, his gun-metal eyes twinkling with delight. “You’re a little troublemaker, huh?”
Izo held up his hand. “Five more, please.”
And the Senator obliged. But it didn’t make Tearn any less nervous.