We made it about halfway down the street before Alter headed west down a much more narrow lane. My initial thought was that it presented the perfect place for an ambush, if there was an ambush to be had. But who would attack us, and why? We hadn’t been in town long enough to be noticed. We made a beeline across Birilli, pausing at the next street as a pair of the six-legged horses ran by, trailed by about a dozen large lizards roped together through leather collars. A second pair of horses chased behind them, their riders shouting and whistling to drive the lizards forward.

  “The one person in the galaxy that can remove my tumor lives here?” I asked Alter, becoming nervous about his qualifications.

  “I’m sure he isn’t the only one,” Alter replied. “Just the only one I know.” She pointed up the street. “The saloon is half a klick that way. His office is back on the east side of the city.”

  “There has to be another saloon between here and there,” Matt said.

  “There is, but he likes this one.”

  We didn’t head that way. We had another stop to make first. The underground bazaar. We followed Alter to the west edge of the city, coming to a street that abutted the partially-excavated mountainside. As soon as the sun dropped behind the upper edge of the impossibly high cliff, the temperature felt like it dropped ten degrees nearly instantly.

  We turned south, following the rock wall. Shops and homes were carved into the stone, intricate sculpting turning their facades into incredible masterworks. Like everything else here, they had been chewed at over time by the particles in the air, giving their once smooth surfaces the appearance of sandpaper. Only a few people lingered outside the cliff face. Sitting in the shade, they worked weaving baskets or were using a small spigot a few hundred feet down to collect drinking water.

  Alter took us to one of the houses and chose a door midway down the long line of the home’s rusted metal or worn wood doors and open archways. Glancing back at us, she pounded at the barrier with a closed fist, beating out a rhythm almost as complicated as the stonework carvings above the entrances before stepping back into our group.

  “How?” I started to ask, but she put a finger to her lips.

  The door swung slowly inward. An elderly woman leaned out, her wrinkled face eying us warily beneath a brightly colored scarf that covered her mouth. “Can I help you?” she asked in heavily accented English.

  I waited for Alter to respond. She remained silent instead. A sidelong glance showed me her gaze remained firmly locked on the woman.

  We all stood there, silent and tense. I could feel Shaq poke his head out from the pocket where I had hidden him, likely wondering if he needed to take action. Nearly a minute passed. The woman didn’t retreat. She also didn’t say a word.

  Finally, she lowered the scarf, revealing a smile gapped by missing teeth. Silent, she pushed the door the rest of the way open and moved aside.

  Alter still didn’t speak, using her hand to wave us forward with her as she moved to the door.

  We entered an apartment building carved into the rock. A set of sculpted stairs on the left led to the second floor, while more simple doors lined a long corridor delving deeper into the mountainside. Cables and pipes for plumbing crowded the corners on both sides of the brightly colored ceiling, its painted patterns beautifying the otherwise drab structure. It was impossible not to notice how much cooler the air became the moment we crossed the threshold into the excavation.

  I wanted to remark on how incredible I thought this was, but Alter’s silence kept me from opening my mouth. She followed the old woman, and I trailed behind her and Matt as we walked single file down the hallway, passing several doors as they approached the end of the corridor. The only sound was the steady clack of our guide’s cane on the stone.

  We turned left to follow another long hallway. Our guide was so slow, I struggled to remain patient as we made our way another four hundred feet or so before coming to a stop at one of the doors to our left. The old woman raised her cane and used it to hit the door in the same pattern Alter had used earlier. When the door opened, a large, alien,fur-covered humanoid stepped out. Armed with a heavy rifle and wearing Mad Max style armor, he remained silent, bowing his head in deference to the woman.

  She reached up and cupped his cheek for a moment before guiding us through the door, to a narrow set of stairs so worn by feet they must have been there since before the original Earthian’s arrival in the Manticore Spiral. How could that be possible?

  I practically had to bite my lips to keep from asking questions about the place. It annoyed me that Matt seemed so at ease ahead of me as we started the descent, still following the old woman. Lit torches in sconces high up on the wall illuminated our path as we spiraled downward. I counted every step, reaching two hundred and forty-seven when we finally made it to the bottom. I didn’t believe the woman with the cane repeated this journey very often.

  Another furry alien met us at the bottom of the stairwell, where I heard the tinkling glub of calmly moving water and the low murmur of hushed voices on the other side of the door the old woman pushed open with her cane. I smelled the scent of something that immediately aroused my taste buds.

  We stepped out into a massive underground cavern, a quick glance revealing dozens of separate stalls split by a river and connected by stone bridges. Both buyers and sellers mingled at the stalls, and a cursory glance revealed weapons, drugs, food, and other items available for purchase.

  The underground bazaar. After outer space, it was the most awesome thing I had ever seen.

  CHAPTER 29

  Once we were all out of the stairwell, the old woman turned around. After glaring at each of us with a stern expression, she returned her attention to Alter, a huge smile spreading between cracked lips.

  “Jasana’sa,” she said, embracing her. “It’s been too long.”

  Alter returned the hug. “I’m sorry, Gramma'na. I haven’t been back to this part of the Quadrant in many years. This is the first place I came once I returned.”

  Matt glanced over at me. “Gramma'na? Sounds like grandmother.”

  “That’s impossible,” I replied.

  “Tell that to her.”

  “Gramma'na, I’d like you to meet my friends,” Alter said. “This is Matt and Ben. They’re Earthians.”

  Gramma'na’s eyes grew large. “Oh. Earthians. It has been even longer since I’ve seen your kind. So young, too.” She stepped up to Matt, reaching up and cupping his face. “Strong boy. Loyal to his friend. Maybe too loyal?” She laughed, moving to me and repeating the gesture. Her expression changed at once. “Poor boy. Is that why you’ve come? To see Gyer?”

  “Yes, gramma-na,” Alter replied, while I stared at the woman, trying to figure out how she had known I was sick.

  “Well, if anyone can fix you, it’s him,” the old woman continued. “Who are the rest of your companions?” She glanced at Quasar. “A Royal Marine?” Her eyes shifted back to Alter. “Why did you bring a Royal Guard here?”

  “How did you know I was a Marine?” Quasar asked before Alter could reply.

  “I’m old, not blind,” Gramma'na barked. “It’s your posture, woman.”

  “Well, I’m not a Royal Guard anymore. I’m out of Her Majesty’s service.”

  “Probably better off.”

  “That’s what I keep saying,” Druck said.

  She glanced at him. “And you’re a mechie, aren’t you?”

  “Yes ma’am,” he answered. “It’s the posture, right?”

  She laughed. “You’re almost as sloped-shouldered as Ben, here.”

  “I’m not hunched,” I complained, throwing my shoulders back.

  “Not as much as you were before we started working out,” Matt reassured me. “It’s helping your posture a lot.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You came to Birilli to see Gyer,” Gramma'na said, turning back to Alter. “You didn’t just come to me because you wanted to see me.”

  “No,” she admitted. “We need some supplies we could only get here. Personal comms equipment, especially. But also ammunition, and whatever other goodies the sellers might have in stock.”

  “Well, today’s your lucky day.” She pointed to a stall on the other side of the river. “We have a dealer in from Sarkosny. Miklos. He has the comms you’re looking for.”

  Alter smiled. “We’ll go take a look. Thank you, Gramma'na.”

  “Of course, my child. If you have time, come back upstairs and stop by for some tea. I’ve got a Kalrishian brew I know you’d enjoy. The plant the leaves come from only bloom once every forty years.”

  “It sounds wonderful,” Alter said.

  Gramma'na turned to Matt and me. “You take care of her. She’s very precious to me.”

  “We will,” Matt said.

  Gramma'na hobbled back to the stairs on her cane.

  “What was that about?” I asked. “You told me—”

  “Josana-sa is this,” she replied, touching her chest. “She doesn’t know who I really am.” My mouth slammed shut and I swallowed hard. Alter had killed her granddaughter, and the old woman didn’t know it. “That’s how I know about the underground bazaar, and Gyer,” she continued. “Because I’ve done business on this world.”

  “Oh, man,” Druck said, interrupting us. “Take a look at that!”

  I looked at him—he had a look of reverence on his face—and then down the length of the cavern to where his eyes were fixed. Something large was positioned near the wall, rising almost the full height of the cavern. A wide, round head connected directly to a squared body, the chest detailed by a series of rusted armored plates on top of a scuffed and dented torso, broken up by a series of eight large muzzles that jutted out above the hips. One the right side, a massive arm hung straight down, ending in a hand beneath what looked to me like a tank turret connected to the forearm. On the left side, wires and rent metal trailed out of the shoulder socket, the appendage completely gone.

  Each leg of the mech was the size of a thick redwood trunk, and at least three times my height. One of the legs had lost a fair portion of its protection, leaving the inner workings of the machine exposed. Triangular feet provided the base for the armor.

  “What about it?” Quasar said.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “If you think derelicts that were salvaged from a battlefield are beautiful, sure.”

  “She isn’t a derelict,” Druck said. “She just needs a little attention.”

  “Are you crazy? She’s missing an entire arm.”

  “Arms can be replaced.” He looked at Matt. “I want to go talk to the seller about her.”

  “Okay. I’ll come with you,” Matt said.

  They split off from us, Matt trailing Druck toward the monster robot. The mechie, as Gramma'na had called him, couldn’t hold back his excitement, practically running to get to the junker.

  “He’s got problems,” Quasar decided, watching them go.

  “How did they even get that thing in here?” I asked.

  “The river leads to the basin beneath the spaceport tarmac,” Alter replied. “There are automated barges hidden up the river that are used to move inventory in and out of the bazaar from arriving starships. It all remains hidden from view, especially the view of the Royal Guard.”

  “I won’t say anything about it,” Quasar said.

  “Let’s head across to the stall your gramma’na pointed out,” I said, starting toward the nearest bridge. “I’m surprised she knew you’ve been gone a long time, but didn’t notice you haven’t aged.”

  “There are treatments available to the wealthy to stop the visible signs of aging. She probably assumed I’ve done well enough for myself to use them. I don’t really want to talk about this. It isn’t a good memory for me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll drop it.”

  I stopped on the bridge to look back at the mech. Druck was already slobbering all over one of the feet, staring up at the huge machine with obvious desire.

  “How much do you think something like that costs?” I asked.

  “If its reactor is functional?” Alter said. “Two million.”

  “In that condition?”

  “That’s an A-10 Avenger,” Quasar said. “Probably one of the original productions, but even they went for nearly ten million brand new. If it works, two would be a steal.”

  “And more than we can afford,” Alter countered. “Gyer will take most of what we have.”

  “It’ll be worth it,” I said.

  We crossed the river, passing other stalls on our way to Miklos. Something cooking at one of the smaller setups dragged my attention to it, my eyes settling on a hunk of roasting, seasoned meat the seller turned on a spit over a smokeless heating element.

  “That’s real food,” I said. “Not reconstituted molecules.”

  “It is,” Alter agreed.

  “I want it. What about you two?”

  “I’m game,” Quasar said.

  “Can we wait until we’re finished with our shopping?” Alter replied.

  “Business before pleasure?” I said. “Okay.”

  We bypassed the stall, though I couldn’t help staring at the meat as we passed. It had been too long since I had real food. I would have killed someone for a McRory’s burger, fries, and beer.

  Miklos’ shop sat a short distance away from the food, and was one of the larger displays in the place, if you didn’t count the mech Matt and Druck were currently eying. Although, maybe it was the small size of his wares that made the booth appear bigger and better stocked.

  A series of tables rested on the stone floor of the cavern, lined with transparent cases featuring all kinds of tiny devices, none of which I recognized. Since Gramma’na had sent us over here, I assumed at least some of the items were personal comms of some sort, but looking for anything that resembled a hearing aid, even the in-ear kind, proved futile.

  A thickly padded chair that belonged in a dentist office sat behind the product, a small, empty table beside it and a shelved toolbox next to that. I didn’t know what any of that was for, though a second glance at some of the devices suggested maybe they were supposed to be implanted beneath the skin.

  Miklos was at the table opposite us, already assisting another customer—one of the Niflin from the ship we had spotted, wearing a full, opaque helmet that hid his face. He had a disc the size of a dime in his hand, and he held it up as though he were examining a diamond.

  “All the circuitry is top quality,” Miklos said. I couldn’t see him clearly from our position. His back to us, he wore a cloth robe with the hood pulled up, a rope sash around his waist like a monk. From his voice, he sounded relatively young. “My assistant uses nothing but the best.”

  The Niflin lowered the disc back to the table, head shifting slightly toward us. I lowered my head a little, trying to keep my face in shadow just in case he had any connection to Sedaya and his mercenaries. His attention only lingered for a moment.

  Did he recognize us?

  CHAPTER 30

  “What do you think?” Miklos asked. “Two thousand each. I have a dozen in inventory.”

  “I’ll need to discuss it with my captain,” the Niflin replied.

  “I’ll be here all afternoon,” Miklos added. The Niflin passed us to leave, moving along the stalls to look at the other things for sale. He turned around, revealing a badly burned and scarred face, his eyelids completely melted away. I did my best not to react to the unexpected visage.

  “Miklos,” Alter said. “Gramma’na told us we should see you about some equipment.”

  “Of course, of course,” Miklos replied, crossing the space between tables. “Miklos is always at your service. I have the finest specialty electronics in the Spiral, all of it hand-built by my assistant and I. And if we don’t have what you’re looking for, odds are we can make it.”

  His lips barely moved as he spoke, but somehow the words came out perfectly. Glancing at the collar of his robe, I noticed a slight bulge at his neck. Maybe the voice actually came from there.

  “We’re looking for personal communicators,” I said. “Military grade. For medium-range inter-team contact in all environments. We need six or more.”

  He nodded, overemphasizing the movement since his face struggled with expression. “Yes, yes. Of course, of course. What’s your budget?”

  “Why don’t you show us what you believe would be most suitable?” Alter suggested.

  “As you wish,” he answered. He moved to the backmost table, using his thumbprint to unlock one of the cases, removing a set of rectangular silver sticks less than half the size of a grain of rice. “This is the best solution I can offer. Custom made from the circuit board of a CO1260 transceiver from the Dryka Federation.”

  “Dryka?” I interrupted. “As in Duchess Dryka of Caprum?”

  He smiled. “Yes. A shame about all of that. As you can see, their transceiver casing is top quality. The design is more than just functional. It’s, dare I say it, beautiful.”

  It just looked like a tiny silver rectangle to me, but I nodded and played along. “It sure is.”

  “What makes it custom?” Alter asked.

  “Primarily, we’ve exchanged the power cell with a heat absorption module my assistant designed, and sealed the casing. Normally, the twelve-sixty is worn either on the skull behind the ear or the back of the ear itself. This little darling can be implanted in the lobe. It will respond to voice commands, taps, or if you’re physically able, ear movement to select channels and change settings. The set also comes with software installable on your personal hypercom device or most flavors of the standard starship OS.”

  “But it can still be worn externally?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid not. The heat absorber requires a closed space for efficiency. I understand if you’re concerned about implantation and possible complications. Believe me, I know about not wanting to mess up a pretty face.” He waved his hand in front of his face, laughing at the joke since he was as homely as any man I had ever seen. “My assistant is extremely experienced with implants like these,” he went on. “There is zero to worry about.”