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"Yes. One life form is waiting outside. It does not appear to be armed," Consuela added.

"Which means absolutely nothing when dealing with a Faceless. They can morph any part of their body into something with teeth, bone spurs, claws or even metallic cutting blades." I opened the airlock. "Let's go and get this done."

Jenala and I left the ship. Outside, bathed in Consuela's flood lights, stood San'yas, the face bereft of all orifices save for the eyes which erased even the last bit of personality. The androgynous shapeshifter wore a form-fitting, rigid set of armor. It raised a hand. Slowly, Galactic Basic icons scrolled over its palm.

They spelled out "Follow me."

We didn't have to walk far. Our guide led us into the rear of a nearby shuttle, closed the ramp and activated the life-support system. Lights came on and what I presumed to be a cargo hold of sorts turned into some kind of office, complete with seats, a desk, a terminal and even a mini-fridge slaved to an improvised-looking cable harness. The shapeshifter turned to face us and grew a nose and mouth which curved into a thin-lipped smile.

"I apologize for the hassle but I need to conserve reaction mass. Anything I recycle I can't sell. Keeping the hangar filled with breathable air just for me and the occasional customer is simply not efficient."

"Are you San'yas?" I asked. "How many people do you have here?"

"I am indeed San'yas." The Faceless offered a hand. I shook it. Some kind of spark seemed to arc between us. Maybe some static electricity. "I am the owner and sole member of this salvage outfit."

"You run all of this on your own?" Jenala seemed surprised. "How is that possible? Don't you feel lonely?"

Another hint of a smile. "Fewer people around mean less chances for ambush. As a former maintenance drone, my status in the hive mind was very low to begin with but rogue elements will be terminated and re-assimilated into the hive eventually." San'yas walked around the desk and took a seat. "As for my ability to run this operation -- I have access to more than enough AI cores to outfit a whole robotic army if I wanted. I put those cores to good use by turning them into the brains running my ships, drones and heavy machinery. Any more questions?"

"Yes, actually. How did you end up here? If I may ask, that is." Jenala shot San'yas a friendly smile

"That's not a secret," San'yas said, settling into a comfortable posture behind the desk. "I am a survivor of the battle which took place in this system two hundred years ago. The Nor thoroughly trounced the Faceless fleet and the hive mind decided to withdraw. During the battle, I had been wounded and lost my connection to the hive, along with a few hundred others. We... adapted."

"That sounds ominous," I said.

"Well, some had to be assimilated for others to survive." San'yas shrugged.. "Once we were all healed, the survivors wanted to leave this place since it held too many dark memories. Over time, everyone left except me."

"Why did you stay?" Jenala asked.

"Habit?" Another shrug. "From the moment I had regained my consciousness as an individual, I knew I liked tinkering with machines. Maybe a residual emotion based on my former function as a maintenance drone. Maybe the shock of losing access to the hive mind only emphasized my conditioning. I don't know and I haven't found the resolve to discover the cause. Anyway, my talents were in high demand once the survivors wanted to leave. I repaired ships. I built new ones. I knew I was very good at it. And when everyone had left, I stayed. I didn't want to give up this treasure trove of spares. One day, a ship in need of repairs appeared and I realized I could not only keep on building ships but trade for supplies. I've been busy ever since, especially once I met Ylzics. He has directed a lot of traffic my way. Anything else you need to know?"

"Thank you," Jenala said. "I think I'm good."

"To business then," the shapeshifter said, firing up the terminal. "It was rather obvious your ship had been in a battle recently. I presume you will need a few layers of Armorgrade?"

I pulled up the damage report Consuela had compiled and projected it over the table. "We've lost almost all armor on the starboard side and took a few hits all over. The hull was punched through about here, the avionics have been fried and we've lost two of the aft maneuvering jets."

"I think I can help you fix all of that. In fact, I happen to have most of a Lucanos in the hangar. It will be easier to simply transplant a new nose section than having to replace the fried components one by one."

"There's more. I have a slight problem with the Black Scorpions. Someone has put out a bounty-"

"Nemex."

"You know?"

"I may live in solitude but I do have a working VRNet connection." San'yas eyed me steadily. "You will need a new transponder and your FTL drives will require some modulation of their unique wavelengths." More typing on the terminal.

"I have a question," Jenala said, raising her hand.

"Yes?"

"Would it be feasible to expand the cockpit section to seat two without compromising the ship's maneuverability?"

I shot her a sideways glance. "What, sick of having to wait in the kitchen?"

"Yes. Maybe turn the second seat into a gunner's position?" Her smile turned vicious. "I might have found a new taste for big cannons."

San'yas shrugged. "It would require only minor alterations to, for example, add the cockpit section of an Antares bomber to the front of your ship. It has both a pilot and gunner position, sports twice the armor of a Lucanos, plus it has a chin-mounted point-defense turret. I have several Antares in storage."

"Are these modifications really that easy?" Jenala asked. "It took my people almost two years to get my ship ready."

"Nor tech is highly efficient and built in a modular fashion. Removing the damaged cockpit section only requires a blowtorch and the undoing of twelve bolts."

"Yeah, and a few cranes," I added. "How much? And how long?"

"Are you planning to help?"

"Of course, especially if it cuts down on costs. Also, I prefer to see with my own eyes what is done to my ship in case I need to fix it later on my own."

"A sensible sentiment." San'yas crunched some numbers. "Repairs, a new transponder, engine modulation and upgrading the cockpit section. Total cost: Six megacredits. Estimated time: Six days, nine hours and fifteen minutes. Less if you help."

I raised my hand. "I don't think we have that kind of money."

"We don't?" Jenala's eyes flared up. "What happened to the advance I gave you?"

"Didn't I tell you? I used it to pay off another of Neira's rates. And the rest has been spent buying supplies and doing long-range FTL calls."

"Just perfect," Jenala sighed. "How far will we get with two and a half megacredits? Maybe we can add a few hundred kilos of reaction mass to sweeten the deal?"

"Either the hull repairs or the new cockpit. I'd be willing to toss in the transponder if you could spare maybe a hundred kilos of reaction mass."

"Do you mind if we talk this over?" Jenala asked, tugging on my arm. She used her free hand to pull the hood over her head. Snarling softly, she left the shuttle. I followed suit after sealing my personal atmosphere.

The moment I had joined her, she opened up a comms channel. "Didn't we agree you'd inform me of any important development?" she asked. There was little anger in her voice. Instead, she sounded disappointed.

"Yeah, we did. The thing is, I literally sent the money as soon as we had left the Sol system. How was I to know that she not only would relent a bit but offer a substantial cut of the bounty Nemex had put on our heads?"

"You'd better call her and ask for an advance or the like. I don't want the ship to be only half-decent."

"Believe me, neither do I." My funds had nearly dwindled to zero. I had maybe a minute or two of FTL comms left. Sighing, I dialed Neira's number.

The screen came to life, showing the Gravon crime boss sitting behind her desk. A thin ribbon ran along the screen's lower edge, proclaiming this to be prerecorded footage.

"Hi. This is Neira. I'm away on business and don't want to be disturbed. Your call has been logged and I will get in touch as soon as I'm back."

"You heard the lady," I said. "Probably about to blow Nemex's head off."

"You don't have an emergency number or the like?"

I laughed bitterly. "This is the emergency number. I may be one of ten people Neira ever allowed to call her personal communicator."

"All right. Let's see if we can barter." Jenala turned on her heel and returned to the shuttle. I followed her.

When we entered the shuttle, San'yas was gone. Or rather, the shapechanger's featureless, androgynous form was gone. A long-legged Zuthrian woman sat behind the desk. Striking, orange tattoos ran along her arms, legs and what could be seen of her ample cleavage. She wore hunting leathers and had amazing golden eyes. A long, white braid went down her back.

"I'll never get used to that," Jenala said, pulling down her hood. "What is happening here? How am I going to call you now?"

"I am still San'yas and I would love to help you out. Your ship needs some love and attention. As do I. The past five years have been very lonely indeed," San'yas purred. "I'm hoping wearing a Zuthrian female or Marked shape will make you receptive to an alternate payment method. Think of me as a very willing 'she.'"

I shot her an incredulous look. "What, you're offering a discount if we fuck you?"

"Excuse my prying but a cursory scan of your surface thoughts when we shook hands revealed you already contemplated whoring yourself out before." San'yas shot me a dirty grin -- and to my own surprise I noticed a stirring downstairs. "I thought offering service for service would be agreeable to you both."

"You read my mind? When? Why?" I sputtered.

San'yas smiled gently. "Relax. It happens automatically if we Faceless touch someone. I didn't invade your privacy, I merely caught what was on your mind. Flashes of a memory about whoring yourself out on a Waystation. Or was that something else?"

Before I could answer, I heard Jenala grind her teeth. I still remembered how angry she had been when the concept of prostitution had been breached what felt like a lifetime ago. She inhaled deeply and tensed up. Just to be safe, I reached over to intercept her hand should she go for another impulsive slash with her sword.

"Before we even contemplate that thought, how much of a discount are we talking about?" There was a low, dangerous note in her voice.

"Fifty percent for each of you."

"What? You'd do the upgrades and repair at cost if you can have the both of us?"

"I would still ask for a hundred kilos of reaction mass but you got the idea. Let me spend some quality time with the both of you and you shall have the overhaul."

"No." Jenala placed her hands on her hips.

"Are you serious?!" I hissed. "Even with a fifty percent reduction, we'll never be able to pay-"

She shot me a fleeting smile. "This is about principle, Sal. I refuse to even entertain the idea of spreading my legs as payment for services rendered. I'd rather hop out of this shuttle with my hood down." Slowly, she walked towards the desk. San'yas looked up, an eyebrow raised.

Jenala bent forward and caressed a coal-black cheek before breathing a kiss on San'yas' mouth. The shapeshifter held perfectly still and locked gazes with my silver-haired companion.

"You even smell like her," she muttered. Then she leaned in and whispered something into San'yas' ear.

The Zuthrian grinned expansively. "If that is what it takes, I'll gladly do it."

"Fantastic." Jenala returned to my side, a thoughtful little smile on her lips.

"What, if I may ask, did the two of you cook up just now?"

"I'm adamant. I won't fuck her for spares. But I'll more than happily try and ease her loneliness, even if it is just for a night."

"I think I can agree to that," San'yas said, rising from behind her desk. She sashayed around the furniture and closed the distance. The bottom part of her leathers, a brightly painted loincloth, tapered to a sharp point and swayed as she walked, revealing San'yas was now Marked. 'She' snaked her arms around my neck and offered her lips for a kiss, gently grinding her crotch against my hip. "How about it? Do we have a deal?"

Jenala draped an arm around San'yas' shoulders and pecked a kiss on her cheek. "I'm in. On one condition."

San'yas turned her head and claimed another kiss, this time full on Jenala's mouth and with a lot of tongue. Her grinding against my leg kicked up a notch and I could feel her rod harden, even through the thick layers of the flight suit.

"What condition?" the Marked Zuthrian gasped when Jenala finally broke the kiss.

"Work first, play later."

As quickly as the erection had begun, it deflated. "Do we have to?"

Gods, San'yas sounded almost like Zeeris, the particular smoky timbre mixed with unbound exuberance.

"I think I have to agree with my silver-haired partner here," I said, taking half a step back. "If I have to whore myself out, let me do it after the ship has been overhauled. Otherwise, we won't get anything done."

"Does this mean we too have a deal?" There was almost a hint of desperation in San'yas' golden eyes.

"Well, I am the captain of the ship, my word should be final. But since Jenala so kindly agreed to help ease your loneliness, I would be stupid not to accept your generous offer."

San'yas hugged me enthusiastically and smothered my face with kisses. "I promise, you won't regret it!"

I... wasn't so sure about that.

* * * *

"This power core won't cut it," San'yas said, critically inspecting Consuela's engine room. "With the gun turrets, main guns and soon the Antares cockpit, you'll run into all kinds of power grid problems. It's a wonder your fuses haven't blown already. How far do you tax the poor thing regularly?"

"I only hit the redline if all guns fire at once. Normally, I have at least a ten percent headroom." I sighed. "Let me guess. A new core costs extra?"

The long-limbed Zuthrian next to me shook her head. "Nah. The contract has been agreed on by all parties and I would be damn petty to append it." San'yas unhooked a rugged tablet computer from her belt and ticked a few boxes on a form. "Besides, I have so many power cores tucked away, I can easily spare one. Especially since you shared half of your reaction mass."

I shrugged. "I prefer to work in an atmosphere. One wrong cut and a slice of metal could perforate our suits, causing all kinds of headaches. According to the star map, the next Waystation where we can refill the tank is a mere week away. So, what model would you recommend?"

"Considering that space is at a premium on your boat, I would suggest replacing the old Fusion core for a smaller, more efficient Zero-Point energy source. It should suffice for the new systems and leave about thirty percent headroom for any new applications, even if you fire every plasma jet and cannon."

"Sure, I'll take it."

"I would have to fly to one of my storage spaces to get it tough."

"No worries. I saw a Makuro crane mech in the back. Does it run?"

"Of course."

"Great. While you're away, Jenala and I will decouple the engine bays and the cargo hold so you can drop the power core right in there. All we need is a Herc and the Makuro."

San'yas tapped her tablet computer and sent the key codes for the mechs. "Try not to wreck the hangar too much," she said. "While I'm out there, anything else I should drag back?"

"Let's see. We have a couple tons of fresh armor plating nearby, a new hull segment to replace the punctured panel with and the maneuvering jets. Even if we're missing something, the stuff already here should help us get the repairs going."

We left the engine room and returned to the kitchen. Jenala was hunched over the table, going through a stack of service manuals.

"How long will you be gone?" I asked San'yas.

"Maybe two hours, three if I don't have a repulsor sled in storage. Don't start without me, okay?" Her hand went for my crotch.

I intercepted it gently. "Shoo. Sex has to wait until after the repairs, remember?"

"Come on, a grope won't hurt."

"Who's groping?" Jenala's head came up. "Why am I not involved?"

"Nobody's groping," I said, gently guiding San'yas towards the airlock. "And San'yas was just leaving to get us a new power core."

"Slave driver," San'yas muttered. She walked into the airlock and shook her butt at me before it closed.

"I think I understand now," Jenala said, closing the last of the manuals. "Can I take these with me? My people won't believe stuff like this is possible."

"I'm sure San'yas can pull some copies for you. Now, how would you like to drive a loader mech?"

Her eyes lit up. "Like the one back on the Waystation?"

I nodded. "We'll be dismantling the back end of the ship. It will split into three modules -- both engine bays and the cargo hold."

"And no one is asking me if I am okay with that?" the AI complained.

"Would you rather limp through space looking like Swiss cheese?" I shot back. "Stop complaining, we're doing this for you too."

"Yes, captain."

"All right then. Jenala, ready to earn your mech license?"

"Are you allowed to issue one?"

I shrugged. "Not exactly. But I can teach you anyway since handling a Herc isn't that difficult. It will take the both of us to get the ship apart. While you take your baby steps, I'll undo the locking mechanisms so we can pull the pieces apart."

"I have a bad feeling about this," the AI muttered.

"Didn't you say you wanted to stay quiet?" I asked. "Maybe next time, I'll not only have someone delete your speech routines, I'll remove the speaker box as well."

"Yes, captain. And please, don't take away my speaker box." The AI's pleading tone was almost convincing. I should never have let it get this far. Now the thing was playing me.

We left through the cargo hold and located the Herc and its big, mean brother. The Makuro was a walking crane, a four-legged chassis with a cramped cockpit in front and a large crane arm in back. This particular version had been modified for zero-g applications, with maneuvering thrusters jutting like spurs from between the mech's toes and boarding claws to attach itself to a ship's hull. It could easily lift a hundred tons, more than enough to dismantle Consuela's back end. Having a Herc with working arms nearby to guide the load would be invaluable. I sent Jenala the key code for the biped loader.

"This is really exciting," she said, climbing up the Herc's leg. This model had a fully enclosed cockpit, probably airtight, and articulated hands. I climbed up behind Jenala and squeezed myself into the cockpit with her.

"Using a Herc isn't that hard," I said again. "Most people struggle with having to work their arms and legs independently from each other but, as a pilot, you should be used to coordinating your limbs by now."

"The dashboard looks somewhat deserted. No holograms or the like, just a few lights, a dial and this bar with an arrow in it." Jenala gripped the joysticks.

"First, you need to start the machine. Use the keycode on that pad over there."

She typed in the five-digit code and the mech woke up, unfolding to its full height of six meters. The arms came up and bent at the elbow so the hands were facing forward.

"You don't need much in the way of instruments. The big round light to the left is your general status indicator. Green means 'all systems go' and red means 'catastrophic failure.' The two smaller lights are your weight gauges for the arms. They go from blue to red to rapidly blinking should you exceed the machine's carry weight."