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hallway until the momentum could be compensated by the grav panels. Feleesha stabilized the ship as a yellow star rolled into view through the canopy.

"What happened?" 'TakTrak asked.

"We were too close to the Witch's Tits, Captain. The gravity threw off the calculations. Then we emerged near this star." She growled. "Told you it was iffy."

'TakTrak clacked and whistled in his odd laughing way. "It is better than dead, my pilot!"

True, Dirken thought, as he looked out at the star. A humongous solar flare arced out of it, larger than the largest gas giant, but not in a direction that threatened them. Still, they wouldn't want to stick around for the next one, and they were close enough that the heat from the star would start melting the outer panels if they strayed. Feleesha turned the ship away from the star and accelerated out of danger.

"Adjusting coordinates," Feleesha said, entering information into the holopanel. She turned her head and looked at 'TakTrak, then again to inspect Dirken and Yiorgos. The eye that wasn't covered by an eyepatch narrowed in response to seeing Dirken. "Enjoy our winnings from goron'oc, bastard?"

"Not half as much as I enjoyed your piloting," he responded.

"Fuck you."

"Now, Feleesha," 'TakTrak admonished, "is that any way to address friend Dirken? He is our guest!"

Yiorgos sighed. "The last time we were called a 'guest' was by a mafia don, and he was about to hold us against our will, gave us an offer we couldn't refuse, then had his Saffron Guard try to kill us."

'TakTrak unbuckled himself from his seat. "Well, my friend, we will treat you much more amicably. What is this 'sphere thing' you carry?"

Yiorgos hesitated to answer, so Dirken jumped in. "It's the job we were hired for. We have to escort it to Nüwa. Care to take us there, 'TakTrak? For your generosity, I'll throw in a thousand UW chits."

It was hard to read 'TakTrak. His species couldn't blink and because he had a beak instead of lips, he didn't share the facial expressions of most species, but the tilt of the Corthian's head seemed to suggest some difficult thought process. Instead of answering, he turned back to Feleesha. "What is the damage to the ship?"

Feleesha looked to a panel that was blinking red. "One crewman dead when the dorsal cannon was ripped off. Port aileron gone. Port stabilizer damaged. We are leaking atmosphere in the top cabin where the cannon was. The crew is on it. Minor damage to port and ventral paneling, but stable. Grav paneling in the rear compartments is deionized but should be repaired by internal systems within an hour."

"How about the VIP suite?"

"No damage."

'TakTrak turned back to Dirken. "Let's increase to five thousand chits and you have a deal. Otherwise I drop you off at Harold's World with my cargo."

"Harold's World!" Dirken exclaimed. "That old mining dump? It's in the outer territories. It would take us weeks to find a ride back!" He paused a moment to glance at Yiorgos. The cyborg just grimaced. Harold's World, named after the legendary space prospector, "Toothless" Harold Jenkins only a century ago, was a rocky wasteland with a Mars-like atmosphere but rich with rare metals and radioactive elements. It was that last aspect that killed poor Toothless, after he'd lost all of his teeth and hair.

"Five thousand! Just to transport us?" Dirken complained. His offer of a thousand was already generous.

'TakTrak shrugged. "Nüwa is in the opposite direction and you would make me late for the job."

Dirken scowled. He didn't really have much choice, but it would be poor form to go without at least a little haggling. "Make it three thousand and we have a deal, but it's still fucking highway robbery."

"Thirty-five hundred," 'TakTrak counter offered.

"Fine." Dirken reached out a hand to shake on it, and 'TakTrak sealed the deal. The Corthian clacked his beak in approval. "Good. Good!" He turned to Feleesha. "You know the coordinates, Feleesha."

Feleesha frowned at Dirken, then she turned and started entering coordinates.

'TakTrak put his wing around Dirken's shoulders and walked him out of the bridge doorway. "But it will be many hours before we can get you there. In the meantime, Friend Dirken, we have just taken on a guest cabin for a VIP transport job coming up. The one I mentioned to you earlier. You can stay there. I think you will approve."

They passed the gangway and entered the cramped corridor into the center of the ship. "This is the gig you mentioned to me at the Ruby Lounge?" Dirken asked, ducking under a conduit. 'TakTrak nodded. Dirken continued, "So what is it that you think we can do for it?"

'TakTrak waved away the question with a wing. "We will talk business later. You know I never like to mix one mission with another. For now, let us relax. I will tell you more about the VIP suite. It has fine Pleiadean spidersilk sheets on a soft mattress big enough to fit four people —  with leviton emitters! Nüwan coffee. Holo-walls to project any environment you dial. And — this is the best part! —  a pair of professional escorts. They have been trained in the sexual arts at the Bacchus Dome on Halcyon! Perhaps you can keep them warm for our VIP, eh?"

Dirken's eyes widened. Halcyon was often called the "Pleasure Planet," the number-one vacation paradise for warmth-loving species, with endless white beaches, resorts, and islands sporting themes to fit just about any fetish. There were no taboos on Halcyon. The Bacchus Dome, in the center of the largest island and the capital city of the planet, was renowned for training the galaxy's most talented sex workers.

"Yes!" Dirken said, and turned to see Yiorgos's reaction.

The cyborg just rolled his eyes. "Awesome," he said, dryly.

"Lead the way, my friend!" Dirken said to 'TakTrak. The Corthian clacked his beak and whistled in approval then walked them toward the back of the craft.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THE VIP SUITE

'TakTrak walked them through the narrow corridors of

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