The walls of each chamber opened just a crack, allowing the discussion between the space toads and Aptat to filter through.
“–fresh, unscrambled.” It was the middle amphibio-pirate speaking, and judging by the small, and apparently unironic, crown atop their head, they seemed to be leader of the trio.
“Let’s dispense with the prattle, Princess,” said Aptat dismissively. “You know mine are always treated well.”
The crowned one – a Princess? – shook her head, less an answer and more of a reaction, like she was trying to ignore the offense she’d taken at Aptat’s derisive tone. A ridge of well-worn armor rose along her spine from the shoulders down, like a dog raising its hackles.52 Unbothered by or oblivious to the display, Aptat sashayed over to the first chamber and flicked the glass with a shiny finger, making it ring.
Inside was a waifish creature with a small, round, chinless head. Two pairs of arms were folded across their chest in a calm, ministerial pose, as if awaiting instructions. “This here is Ghuxch-hexer-chchch,”53 said Aptat. “He has access to business accounts all over Lealum and its respective satellites. Some sort of ex-bookkeeper to a water-skimming syndicate that was wiped out by a rival organization. I’ve run the numbers and they check out, so I’m guessing if you drill downcord far enough you’ll get those passcodes – pays for himself with only a modicum of effort on your part.” Aptat rubbed their thumb against fingers. “He’s seventeen thousand registered guush or forty-five unregistered.”
Holy shit, Aptat was selling us. Right now.
“It’s the bookkeepers who always seem to live,” said the crowned one with a sneer. “Craven little sewer blats. What else have you got?”
Aptat moved to the chamber next to mine, punching a thumb to the glass. Smooth-Face, the Amorphous Trendallian. “Former navigational engineer for the Vaporglance.”
“The Vaporglance?” exclaimed the crowned one.
“Ah, so you know it,” continued Aptat. “Ke’xatt here is just an encyclopedia of information on the ship’s last days. I’ve obviously done my due diligence and what they know goes months beyond the end date of the public logs, right up to when Captain Queva murdered the crew and hid the ship. You Vortu are big on salvage, yes?”
She approached the chamber and eyed Ke’xatt. “How much?”
“For you, Dekies...” Aptat hesitated theatrically, “...twelve thousand.”
The Princess – Dekies – laughed heartily enough that her compatriots were forced to join in. Then they all stopped abruptly. “You sold us a fuel steward from the Vaporglance the last time we swam these filaments, or do you not remember your prior swindles?”
“Swindles, please,” scoffed Aptat. “Let’s not throw insults. The risk of a fruitless Stringer is the gambler’s plight. If I recall, he was, in fact, the fuel steward for the Vaporglance. Don’t burden me with your grievances on sinking a shaft only to find it barren. What did I charge for the steward?”
“Twelve.”
“Then I should be demanding more for the navigational officer,” said Aptat, straightening from the chamber. “Nevertheless, the loss is mine, I’ve already named a price and I will stand by it.”