“What else do you have?”

I tried to shrink into the shirt of my body bag.

Grimacing, Aptat proceeded across the pod to the chambers on either side of Patton. The first was the habitual meditator and crier in the purple and orange robes.

“This is Izairis,” said Aptat. “She is what I would consider an actualized Stringer, needing no further excavation. Her priors include a master forger and code breaker. Indeed, her skills were used to acquire several of these other Stringers. Think about that, my friends. An instantaneous return on investment.”

Dekies just snorted. Aptat took the hint and went on to the pro-wrestler, a colossus called Oush-Sadicet Ciksever from the Maqueni star system. Aptat explained that Oush was a theoretical weapons architect, but he looked to me like he’d been kidnapped right from Friday Night Fights. He was comically muscled and spray-tan orange, with a shimmering blonde mullet that cascaded over his bulging trapezius like a waterfall caught in the setting sun.

Dekies passed over him without saying much and stopped at the fifth chamber. Neck Holes. She looked her up and down, even tapped on the glass as if she were a fish in an aquarium. Then slowly, she turned her attention back to Patton. No no no.

“Not for sale,” said Aptat.

Whew.

“And that one?” said Dekies pointing at me. I glanced around innocently.

“Same,” said Aptat.

“Why not?” Dekies asked, giving Patton a closer inspection. Then, twisting to Aptat, “You mined them already, didn’t you? What do they know?”

“Keep your next slander in your throat, lest I open it, Princess,” growled Aptat, before continuing along pleasantly, “You know my reputation. I don’t mine the product, which explains the prices. I’m just a good listener, a patient and tireless connoisseur of opportunity. Willing to lay low until fortune presents itself. Maybe if you were a better listener, you wouldn’t have to employ stringhunters.”

“How much for the pair?”

“You don’t even know what they’ve got,” said Aptat. “It doesn’t matter anyway – they’re already sold.”

“Pre-sold Stringers? Now that’s something you don’t see. Either you’ve got a fat milk gumplin with a loose purse on the hook or these two are sure things.” Dekies squared on Patton, looking him right in the eyes. Patton backed to the far side, smiling nervously like he’d just shat himself. Maybe he had. “I’ll beat whatever price they’re paying you.”

“Very bold, Dekies, and I do appreciate your overtures, but I must again respectfully decline,” said Aptat. “They’re bound for the Timelance.”

Dekies said nothing for a breath. “The Scythin bought these?”

“Indeed.”

Dekies backed away from Patton like he was a holy relic.

What the hell was a Timelance?

“Shall we continue with the others, then?” asked Aptat.

Dekies reluctantly turned back to Neck Holes. “What of this one?”

“The jewel of my unsold inventory. She’s on a divided cord.”

“You lie.”

“You know I don’t.”

“Divided cord. How can you say that...” asked Dekies, stalking the circumference of her chamber, “…if you don’t ‘mine your cargo’?”