Bobbi wanted to argue that she could take care of herself, but she had to admit that the gangland situation going on at the other inhabited planet in the Orthura System sounded like bad news. As fascinating as it might be to study the cold-blooded lizard people of Saurous, it was probably much safer and less problematic to stick to the mild-mannered bird-like inhabitants of Avria Pentaura.
“All right,” she said, smiling at the Commander. “Just let me go do my research with the Orniths and I’ll stay far, far away from Saurous and its scary inhabitants.”
Commander Sylvan smiled and reached across the desk to offer his hand.
“All right, you’ve convinced me. As long as you stay on Avria Pentaura and stay way from Saurous, it’s a deal.”
Bobbi smiled in relief and delight.
“Oh, thank you, Commander Sylvan! I just can’t wait to get started! And I promise I’ll stay put and study the Orniths and leave the Saurians strictly alone.”
She had no idea how soon she would be breaking her promise.
2
“But…but I thought I had another solar month to make my payment! Forgive me, Rep. Zerlix, but that was what your Sire’s representative said.” Rep. Gersh gripped the counter at the front of his little shop tightly, tension showing in the lines around his eyes. He was an older male with a hunched back and his dark green scales were dry and brittle-looking. The way they were going gray at the edges showed his age.
“Well, now I’m telling you that the payment is due today!” Zerlix snapped, glaring at the old man. “So pay up! Or would you like to lose the protection of the Crimson Blades just when the Blood Scales are trying to make a move into this territory?”
Dragon frowned as he watched his “Big Brother” work on the old male. The Blood Scales’ territory adjoined the territory of his own Clan, the Crimson Blades, but they weren’t making a move—at least, not as far as he knew. The only reason they were here, shaking down a customer, was because Zerlix wanted extra money to gamble with in the blue light district tonight.
“But…but I don’t have the money yet—not all of it, anyway!” Rep. Gersh protested. “I need time to save it. I’ve been paying for protection from the Crimson Blades for as long as my business has been here—thirty solar years, that is—and your Sire has never asked me to pay early. He knows how long it takes to save the protection money every six-months!”
“My Sire isn’t here—I am!” Zerlix snapped, his long, forked tongue slashing the air impatiently. “And I say the money is due now. If you don’t have enough saved, you can make up the rest out of what’s in your money box.” He tapped the old-fashioned device which took bills as well as credit chips with one claw-tipped finger. “In fact, why don’t you open it up and let’s see what you made today? It might just be enough to cover the difference.”
All right—enough was enough. This was turning into a fucking robbery—which was exactly what Rep. Gersh was paying them to protect him from, Dragon thought.
“Big Brother,” he muttered in Zerlix’s ear hole—as a Saurian, he had no fleshy appendages like Dragon did. He lacked ears and his nose was no more than two nostril slits in his flat, scaly face.
As a mammalian growing up among Saurians, Dragon had hated once his own appearance, so different from his adopted family’s’. However, he had accepted the way he looked as an adult. Now he used his differences to his advantage—and the advantage of his Clan. Not many Clans had a seven-foot tall mammalian enforcer in their crews. Most Saurians grew well over two meters tall, but hardly any of them attained Dragon’s own height and musculature.
He used his size now, as he towered over the male he called his brother. Zerlix had hated it when Dragon had grown taller than him—he had never quite forgiven his “Little Brother” for getting so much larger than he was himself. Zerlix was, after all, two years older—though he often acted much less mature than his years would indicate. Case in point, the way he was trying to shake-down old Rep. Gersh right now, Dragon thought.
“Think about this before you do it,” he said now, speaking calmly and evenly—trying to be the voice of reason for his Saurian sibling.
“What I’m doing is getting some gambling money. If you’d shut up so I can get it!” Zerlix snapped, his tongue lashing.
“And what are you going to tell our Sire when his collectors come next solar month and Rep. Gersh tells them, ‘Oh, sorry—I already paid my protection money to your son last month.’ How well do you think that’s going to go down?” Dragon demanded.
Zerlix glared up at him, his yellow-green eyes narrowing to slits.
“My Sire won’t care. He knows a young male has needs.”
“What you’re doing here is basically stealing from our Clan,” Dragon pointed out. “If anyone else did that, Komendant Vizlar would have their scales plucked out and their claws chopped off!”
“Yes, but I’m his son. His only true, natural born son,” Zerlix sneered. “He’d probably do that to you—you’re just an adopted mammalian—but I’m going to be Komendant after him and lead the Crimson Blades.”
“How can you lead if you can’t even follow the rules?” Dragon asked, ignoring the barb about his adoption.
He was used to such insults from his Saurian brother. Though the bond between a Big Brother and a Little Brother was supposed to be a lifelong friendship—like the relationship between Dragon’s adoptive father, Komendant Vizlar, and his Advisor, Rep. Yariz—he and Zerlix had never developed that bond.
Maybe it was because Dragon was mammalian and Zerlix was Saurian or maybe it was just that Zerlix liked being the star of the show and Dragon had stolen his spotlight by being so different. But for whatever reason, his Big Brother didn’t like him and never had.
But that didn’t mean Dragon could avoid him. They were on the same crew, after all. And lately, it seemed like he spent most of his time trying to keep the other male from making poor decisions, like this one.
“If you keep shaking down the people we protect, they’re going to look elsewhere for protection,” he pointed out to Zerlix now. “How will it look to our Sire if a bunch of shop owners on the border between our territory and the Blood Scales turf start defecting to the Blood Scales and asking them for protection against us? Komendant Vizlar will have no choice but to wage war to get them back. You want to start a war, Zerlix?”
Zerlix scowled, his scaled face wrinkling and his nostril slits flaring briefly.
“You always look too far into the future, Little Brother. Why complicate tonight’s pleasure with tomorrow’s worries?”
“Because you can’t just live for today,” Dragon pointed out wearily. Fuck, didn’t his Big Brother ever think past his own pleasure?
Unfortunately, Zerlix had never been made to think past what he wanted at the moment. As a prince of the Crimson Blades Clan, his every whim had been indulged from an early age. The adults around him as he was growing up had known that he was destined to lead the Clan one day and they had given him the same respect that his father, Komendant Vizlar received, though Zerlix hadn’t done anything to earn it.