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burst into
giggles, her small body squirming with innocent embarrassment and delight as
she took her school bag from his shoulder. “Ewww!”
    With a grin and a tap of his finger on her nose, Corvan
stood. The hardest part of his day started now. Walking away from her. Leaving
her. Removing her from his line of sight, his protection, for seven hours or
more. He drew in a deep breath and took a step back, watching Emylie turn and
walk toward the school’s entry. He didn’t move, knowing the morning’s routine
was not yet complete.
    Five steps away from him, she turned around, eyeing him with
grave earnestness. “Are we safe?”
    He smiled. “We are safe.”
    She smiled back, the sun bursting through the clouds,
hitched her bag onto her shoulder and walked into school.
    Corvan watched her disappear through the entry before
turning away. The Steam waited.
    * * * * *
    Falynn draped her left arm across the back of the seat,
raising a squat glass of Bundaberg Black Label Rum to her lips with her right
as she studied the crowded bar. The Steam definitely was popular. Species from
every corner of the known galaxy packed the place, drinking, dancing, playing
bok’i and making out. A number of them watched a large Felinia slur his way
through a karaoke tune, cheering as the creature swiveled his—whoops, no, make
that her —hips in time to the slow, infectious beat.
    “That is a cat singing on the stage, correct?”
Forty-Two asked, raising his voice to be heard over the din. “My optical
sensors are not malfunctioning?”
    “Your optical sensors are not malfunctioning.” Falynn cocked
an eyebrow and took a sip of rum. “She is singing, although I don’t
think she’ll be signing any recording contracts soon.”
    She scanned the crowd, studying each patron with seemingly
indifferent attention. The head bouncer might be somewhere in the bar but she
didn’t think so. Not yet, at least. Something about the uneasy tension in the
barkeeper’s face told her the woman’s main muscle wasn’t present and accounted
for.
    Lifting her glass once again, she swallowed the remainder of
her drink and then stood. “I’m going to get another,” she said, giving
Forty-Two a loaded look. Intel time.
    The ’droid nodded, crossing his arms and effecting a bored
expression as he watched the Felinia wail her way into another song. To anyone
looking at him, Forty-Two was just another patron.
    She weaved her way through the crowd, brushing off a drunken
Antillan’s advances with polite force before sliding onto a vacant stool at the
bar. Ordering her drink, she twisted on her seat, casting the muscled Doirnn
beside her a long look. “Is it always this busy?”
    The Doirnn flicked a dismissive look her way—and then looked
again, lips stretching into a wide smile as he swiveled his seat to face her.
“Always,” he answered, leaning slightly toward her, bright orange eyes skimming
over her body in obvious approval. “They come for the booze and stay for the
entertainment.”
    Falynn lifted her drink to her mouth, touching the rim of
the glass with the tip of her tongue in a slight caress. “The Felinia?”
    The Doirnn’s stare jerked from her mouth to her eyes, his
own tongue wetting his lips with a quick lick. “That, and the show that usually
takes place later in the night. There’s a running bet between the regulars on
how many ribs my boss will break on the first problem customer he deals with.”
    Pulse quickening, Falynn shifted slightly in her seat,
leaning closer to her new chatty friend. She placed her fingers indecently high
up on his leg, skimming the bulge between his thighs with her fingernails.
“Your boss?”
    The Doirnn nodded, nostrils flaring slightly. “The head
bouncer.”
    “And when does that show begin?”
    He chuckled, repositioning his legs so his knees framed
hers. “Depends on Jareth’s mood. If someone’s stupid enough to piss him off
when he first starts his shift, it could be within the next