Hotbloods 6: Allies

“Follow me,” I said, hurrying discreetly after the group of obnoxious aliens.

We reached an elaborately sculpted piazza at the far end of the central avenue. Rows of blossom-laden trees expelled clouds of heavily perfumed petals, and pools of water intertwined with quaint bridges and stepping stones. I pulled the others to one side. From the shadows, I watched the staircase that led up to the left of where we hid. It was carved from a marble-like stone, shot through with bands of gold and silver, and half the group of wealthy aliens were heading up it.

“We’ll be along in a moment, Papa! We just need to change first!” one of the giddy girls announced, taking her sister’s hand and pulling her into the lobby of a nearby building. Through the glass, I watched them remove small boxes from their bags and head into what looked like a changing area, where several people were milling about, before emerging moments later with entirely new outfits.

Two men were coming down the staircase, distracting me from the sight of the girls. They appeared to be the same species as Xiphio, but they definitely weren’t Fed agents—not unless they were off duty, anyway. Both were dressed in smart suits, their patterned chests exposed between the lapels, where a shirt probably should have been. The older of the two had conch-shaped ears, similar to Xiphio’s, while the other’s were shaped more like clams.

“Forget about her, Killick. Those chicks are nothing but trouble,” the older one said.

“Yeah, but she said she liked me!” the younger, Killick, lamented.

The older one smiled. “You can’t trust any of the females in this joint. It’s crawling with gold-diggers. That chick didn’t want you—she just wanted the contents of your cruiser,” he explained. “Honestly, they schmooze you to get on your ship, and then they rob you blind!”

An idea popped into my head as the fish-boys walked past us. Turning to the others, who still had no idea why I’d brought them here, I flashed a mischievous grin.

“I don’t think I’m going to like that look, am I?” Navan asked, sighing.

“When it bags us a ship, you will!”

Bashrik frowned. “What’ve you got in mind?”

“Actually, we have those fish-boys to thank for this,” I said excitedly.

“Merevins,” Ronad corrected. “They’re called merevins.”

“Right, well, those merevins were talking about ladies up there, in that bar, who schmooze with guys and get into their ships,” I began.

Mort grinned. “I think there’s a word for that.”

“Anyway, I thought we could do the same thing. Angie or I can seduce one of the wealthy guys in the Galactis Club and get them to bring us back to their ship,” I continued, ignoring Mort’s remark.

Angie pulled a face. “That sounds gross.”

“It might be our only way of getting on board without bringing more police after us,” I fired back, forcing down my rising temper. If it had come from anyone else, I knew she wouldn’t have immediately rejected the idea. It was just tainted because it came from me, and she blamed me for losing the Coeptis and not being able to find Lauren with the compass.

“Well, I can’t think of anything right now, but—”

I cut her off. “If you don’t want to do it, that’s not a problem. I’ll just do it myself.”

Navan shook his head. “Whoa, Riley, slow down here. I don’t think this is a good idea at all,” he said warily. “There are too many factors we can’t control. What if something happens to you, but we can’t get on board to help?”

“We don’t have many other options, Navan,” I said softly, taking his hand. “The only other thing we can do is fight our way onto one of the ships and then fight our way out of the docks, with a load of cops on our tail. Now, tell me, which one is the better idea?”

“Fighting our way out,” he muttered wryly.

“Hey, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Mort chimed in. “I’m happy to dress in drag and do whatever needs to be done.”

I laughed, pleased to see a smile on Navan’s face, too. “Thanks, Mort, but I can’t see you being a subtle flirt,” I replied. It wasn’t that I doubted his shifter abilities—it was his personality that was the problem. In all honesty, I didn’t trust Mort not to get kicked out of the place with his over-the-top comments. “Look, this way nobody gets hurt. I’m tired of violence, and this is as good an option as any.”

“What do we do with the guy?” Ronad wondered.

I shrugged. “If we steal a ship with the rich guy still on it, then we can just drop him off on some other planet.”

“And trackers?” Bashrik added, layering the negativity on thick.

“When we drop the guy off, we can remove any tracking devices and escape before he manages to call the authorities,” I reasoned, wishing someone other than Mort would be on my side.

Mort clapped his disguised hands together. “Hey, we can iron out the details later. It’s not exactly complicated, so let’s not rain on Riley’s parade here,” he said. “I think it’s a great plan. I love a con as much as the next shifter.”

Ronad nodded. “I guess nobody gets physically hurt, and it’ll mean we don’t have to worry about the Fed coming straight after us. Cruisers are quick. We’ll be out of the local area in no time.”

“I suggest you go for a fish-boy, though,” Mort insisted. “Merevins are clingier than a leech you took on a date once and never called back. They’re hopeless romantics, and I mean hopeless. One stole a girlfriend from me once, the slippery bastard—he went in guns blazing. I think there was even poetry.” He shuddered, making a face.

I frowned. “How did you end up crossing paths with a merevin?”

“Those fishy lotharios live on the neighboring planet to my home world. I’m from Mallarot; they’re from Almaghura. I’m from a planet covered in boredom and females as ugly as my armpit; they’re from a planet covered in water and scantily clad fish-ladies,” he explained. “Let’s just say we have to go elsewhere if we want something nice to wake up to.”

“I thought you all could turn into whatever you liked,” Angie said.

“We can, but we don’t see what you see. Even if a shifter morphed into someone like you, I’d still see a shifter. Fleshy pools and all.” He shuddered for dramatic effect.

“That’s incredibly shallow, Mort!” I chided. “And, anyway, I thought interspecies relationships were frowned upon.”

He shook his head. “It’s not so much of a problem in other parts of the universe. Vysantheans are just prudes. For the rest of us, it’s any port in a storm, if you catch my drift.”

“Dude, that’s gross!” Ronad said, shoving the shifter in the arm so I didn’t have to.

“Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” Mort chuckled, making a crude gesture that got him another hard shove, this time from Navan. “See, what did I tell you? A bunch of prudes, these bloodsuckers!”

Realizing we needed to get a move on, I glanced back toward the glass foyer where the alien girls had gone to change their clothes. If I was going to get into the Galactis Club, I needed to look the part. Military fatigues and a loose braid weren’t exactly going to get me a wealthy man of leisure.

“We need to make it seem like the invitation back to the ship is the guy’s idea so he doesn’t suspect anything,” I mused, watching the people coming in and out of the bar, trying to scope out a good target. “So, I just need to get a guy to show me his ship.”

“Atta girl!” Mort whooped, making my cheeks flush.

“You know what I mean,” I muttered, looking at Navan’s furious face. I could see he wanted to knock Mort’s head off. “You all wait here. I’m going to get myself something to wear.”