Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

carapace down the length of her back. Her strikingly pretty face was dominated by a smile that stretched almost literally from ear to ear, huge faceted eyes, and a pair of disturbingly hairy antennae rising from her bald skull. Her movements tended to be sudden and jerky, and her two sets of elbows gave her wide theatrical gestures an impressive breadth and impact.
    Her sheer presence could be disturbing, and even intimidating, and she gave off a sharp, spicy aroma that sometimes brought tears to the eye, but on the other hand she had six magnificent breasts, so ... She also had more metal piercings that most people felt comfortable contemplating, that chimed and jangled as she moved. She was warm and friendly and very touchy-feely, and entirely cold-blooded when it came to making business decisions. She and Brett had been friends and rivals and partners for many years, and had worked together on many cons and stings; a few of which were still legendary, even in the Rookery.
    Loving The Alien was one of the few places where Brett could hope to crash for a while with a price on his head and still feel safe. And of course no one who saw him there would turn him in, because then they'd have to explain what they were doing in such a place . . . On the other hand, it had to be said that Nikki wasn't always glad to see him.
    "Oh shit; what the hell are you doing here?" Nikki said in her rough smoky voice, as Brett came slouching into her parlor. "Every time you show up here, it means trouble. I'd ban you if I thought it would do any good. Who have you got mad at you this time?"
    "Pretty much everybody," said Brett, slumping into the nearest comfortable chair, and looking longingly at the drinks cabinet. "I just need somewhere to go to ground for a while, while I figure out what to do next. Any chance of a drink, Nikki? I could murder a drink."
    "Don't get comfortable," said Nikki. "You're not staying. All my rooms are full, and with things the way they are these days, I can't afford to turn away business. And no, you can't sleep in my cellar again. I'm having it turned into a fun and games room, and decent sound-proofing is costing me an arm and a
    mandible. And you missed my last birthday."
    "Don't be like this, Nikki; I'm in real trouble this time."
    "That's what you always say."
    "And usually I'm right. Come on, Nikki; if I hadn't overseen those last few scams for you, you'd never have got enough money together to set up this place. You owe me."
    Nikki sniffed loudly. "And you've never ceased to hold that over my head; particularly when you need something. Oh hell; I never could say no to you, Brett. I always did have a weakness for charming, feckless bastards with more ambition than sense. You can sleep in my room for a while. And you can lose that look right now; sleep is all you'll be doing there. You couldn't afford me these days. And try and keep to yourself while you're here. You know how my customers spook when they see an unfamiliar face." She poured him a large brandy, thrust it ungraciously into his hand, and then cocked her head unnaturally far to one side as she studied him thoughtfully. "Something's spooked you, Brett. It's been a long time since I saw you looking this shit scared. What's happened?"
    "Trust me, Nikki," said Brett, staring into his glass. "You really don't want to know."
    "That bad, eh? Last I heard, you were working for the Durandal. Good gig, by all accounts. Part of this great and glorious scheme he's been peddling all over the Rookery. Not that I want anything to do with it.
    Always knew he was too good to be true, that one. Don't tell me you've had a falling out with the one real success story you've ever been involved with?"
    "Everyone has a line they won't cross," said Brett, looking at her with such painful honesty that for a moment she hardly recognized him. "It seems I've found mine, Nikki. Bit of a shock, at my advanced age, to discover I have something disturbingly like a conscience . . . I'm not a bad man, Nikki. Not really.
    A crook, a con man, and a bit of a scumbag on occasion; but I never thought of myself as a bad man until now . . . Some of the things I've done or been a party to, in Finn's employ, I have to wonder if I'll ever be able to wash the stench off. And no; I'm not going to tell you what. For your own protection.
    And because you're my friend, and I want you at least to be able to sleep at night without nightmares."
    Nikki knelt down beside him, and put a long