The Price of Conquest

They arrived in Vaxua early that evening. Devin docked the Gamble at the main city port and checked them into a fashionable, up-market hotel in the center of the high-price district. Kressa had barely enough time to unpack the few items she brought and begin to take in their room's elegant appointments before Devin invited her out for an amazing meal. Afterwards, they spent several hours going from one stylish nightclub to the next, most of which served sex as liberally as they served alcohol and drugs.

Kressa knew they had come to Vaxua on business, and she knew that business involved finding someone—Devin had done nothing to hide that. As they took a seat at the fourth stop of the night, she wondered briefly if she should offer to help him look, but for now she was content to simply enjoy his company. After all, it wasn't as if she was having a bad time. Save for occasional glances at the people around them and a few brief, solitary forays to speak to someone in private, she remained the center of Devin's attention, and the clubs they visited provided an intriguing glimpse into a side of society she knew existed but had never engaged with. Besides, she'd decided this morning on board the Gamble that she was going to follow this relationship wherever it led.

Well after midnight, they returned to their room, and Devin reminded her why she made that decision in the first place.

* * *

Late the following afternoon, a package arrived at the room for Kressa. Inside was a filmy black spyder-silk singlesuit.

Devin insisted she try it on, a request to which she reluctantly complied.

The seemingly insubstantial garment revealed as much flesh as it concealed, and flashed tantalizing glimpses of even more whenever one of her movements, or even a stray air current, caused the dark, diaphanous fabric to drift out and float on the air.

"You can't expect me to wear this in public," Kressa said.

"Why not?" Devin asked.

"I feel naked."

"You look fantastic."

She smirked. "You're just trying to show off your latest conquest," she accused him, "or fit in better at those clubs."

"Guilty," Devin sighed, "on both counts." He studied her for a moment, and then held a hand out to her. "Come here. There's something I want you to see."

He led her into the washroom, a long, narrow arrangement of dark stone, bright lights, and chrome. A floor-to-ceiling mirror formed one wall. He stood her in front of it, then leaned over her shoulder to repeat in a breathy whisper, "You look fantastic."

Kressa glanced at her reflection with a sneer, and found a stunningly beautiful stranger looking back. She studied the image, honestly amazed by what she saw. For the first time in her life, she felt something other than contempt for her parents' elitist desire for "perfect" offspring.

It might be fun to do something like this once, she thought, continuing to take in the surprising image before her. And it wasn't as if she'd be the only person wearing such a provocative outfit. Hell, she'd still have on twice as much as a lot of the people she'd seen last night, men and women alike. Wearing it for one night was the least she could do in exchange for all the money she knew this trip was costing Devin, even if they were there for business as much as pleasure.

She looked at him in the mirror. "All right, I'll wear it. But just this once, and only if you tell me who you're looking for."

"Who said I was looking for anyone?" he asked.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Devin, I'm not that thick. You don't drink, and you weren't looking for someone to bed, so what were you doing in all those high-end clubs last night? Sampling the water? Besides, you told me you were looking for someone the night we met."

"And I told you I found someone." He turned her to face him and looked deep into her eyes. "You."

"Devin—"

"Look, if you'd rather just stay here in the room…" He toyed with one of the clasps that held the singlesuit together and then nuzzled her ear. "But it would be such a shame to take this off before anyone else gets a chance to see you in it," he whispered.

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"Dev—" she started again, determined to get an answer despite his playful attempts at distraction.

He lowered his hand with a sigh. "Was it that obvious I was looking for someone?"

"Only to me," she said. "And only because I was with you all night trying to figure out what you were doing in those glorified glove clubs. Who are you looking for that spends their time in places like that?"

"Didn't you have a good time?"

"I had a fine time, and I like being with you. A lot. But hitting clubs like those isn't something I'd like to do on a regular basis. They're not much better than that place where we met."

"Just another night or two, I promise."

"Looking for who?"

He frowned.

"I can help you look," she reasoned. "Four eyes are better than two, right? I promise I won't be any more 'obvious' about it than you were, if that's what you're worried about. Now, who are you looking for?"

"A guy named Sangrey."

She flashed him a surprised look. "Tiode Sangrey, as in pirate?"

Now it was Devin's turn to look surprised. "Yeah. Do you know him?"

"I know of him," she said, trying in vain to keep the disgust from her voice.

Pirates were the bane of free traders and commercial merchantmen alike, but from what Kressa had heard about Sangrey, he wasn't content to go after freighters and transports. To Tiode Sangrey and his crew, such targets were too mundane—or, perhaps, too difficult, given that most of them were at least lightly armed. Instead, Sangrey's gang attacked passenger liners and yachts, and their habit of holing the target ship before going on board with spacesuits to seize the loot left few survivors. Even when those under attack did manage to get to spacesuits, Sangrey's crew let them live only as long as they could provide entertainment—or payment—of one kind or another.

"What in hell do you want with him?" Kressa asked, appalled that Devin would have anything to do with someone like Tiode Sangrey.

"I need to—deliver a message," he said.

That made sense. Based on some of the stories Devin had told, as well as the type of ship he flew, she guessed he might be a courier. "What's he doing on Vsuna?"

"Spending the money from his last job, I suppose, and keeping away from the Patrol. Now that Vsuna's a Free World, I suspect a lot of people like Sangrey will be coming here, at least until the place loses some of its prosperity or the local authorities start to crack down."

Kressa considered his words with a growing sense of alarm. She hadn't thought about it before, but he was right. With no Patrol presence but most of the amenities of a United Galaxy world, Vsuna would be a haven for high-living criminals. And with those criminals would come the bounty hunters whose job it was to bring them in.

Kressa herself had been wanted by the Patrol for over seven years, ever since they caught her running guns to the Arecian Guard—albeit unknowingly—when she was only nineteen years old. Despite that, she hadn't worried about being seen on Vsuna because of its status as a Free World. Hell, she'd been so confident in Vsuna's newfound freedom from the United Galaxy that she'd been running around with nothing but her knife for protection and wearing a Gendzet amulet, often in plain view, ever since she arrived.

She removed the amulet.

Devin watched silently as she tucked it into an outer compartment of her travel case.

She caught another glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and was suddenly glad to be wearing the singlesuit. Someone looking for Kressa Bryant wasn't likely to look too closely at anyone wearing such an impractical outfit; it simply wasn't the sort of thing she did. And on the off chance someone did come looking for and recognize her, she had Devin. He was good in a fight—she'd seen that the night they met—so he should be able to help her should the need arise. Yet that seemed unlikely; anyone who'd come to Vsuna looking for high-wheeling felons probably wouldn't even be aware of the comparably small price on her head.

"What does this Sangrey guy look like?" she asked.

"He should be hard to miss. He's a big guy, with short yellow hair. Wears lots of gold jewelry, all with a star motif. He's even got a glo-tat of a star around his right eye. And he loves women. Supposedly he keeps his own private harem on board his ship for him and his crew."

"Then why would he be at those clubs?"

"Looking to sample and buy some new stock, I suppose. I've arranged for us to get into some of the private rooms where deals like that are made."

Kressa looked at him askance. "You're not thinking about making a deal of your own, are you?" she asked, only half joking.

He gave her a look that indicated he did not think the question deserved an answer. "Look, Kressa, if you'd rather stay here, that's fine with me. But, like you said, four eyes are better than two."

"I'll go with you." She had no desire to spend the evening alone. And, although she felt somewhat reluctant to admit it, she had an almost lurid desire to get a glimpse of one of the sides of society that dealt in human lives purely as objects of sexual satisfaction, a side that had existed for centuries on every human-inhabited world, but was rarely acknowledged or discussed save by those involved.

"I'll go," she repeated, "if for no other reason than to make sure you come back."

He rewarded her decision with a long, admiring look and an even longer kiss.