Stars in the Sand Page 10

   “Special today is the egg salad; made with real duck eggs. Want something more substantial, the goulash is pretty good. Try the soup at your peril. We don’t do refunds.”

  She strutted away, Cooper looking after her in disbelief, “Looks like the manager’s having trouble getting good wait staff.”

   “Real eggs, though,” Manning said, shaking his head. “I haven’t had them since I left Mars.”

   “Come on, there’s got to be something wrong with them,” Barbara replied. “You think a place like this is going to have something that good on the menu?”

   Cooper took a sip of his beer, then a swig, and said, “This is good stuff.”

   “Told you,” Grogan said. “Nothing but the best for this crew; the skipper said we should have deep pockets.”

   Sighing, Barbara shook her head, muttering, “And now the price of everything just doubled.” She took a drink of her beer, and gestured towards a corner, “Looks like we have company.”

   A group wearing purple and green uniforms walked in, a logo on their shoulder. The manager walked over to them, followed by a server carrying a tray of drinks, obviously on the house. Cooper looked them over; all of them looked fairly similar in build – muscular, toned, and fit.

   “Some sort of corporate group,” Barbara said, quietly, and Cooper nodded.

   “Acting like they own the place,” he replied.

   “Maybe they do.”

   One of them pointed towards their table, and a short, heated discussion commenced, not one word of which Cooper could understand. Then, taking reluctant steps, the manager walked over to them.

   “I’m afraid I need to ask you to move to another table. This one has been,” he glanced over to the group, “reserved by Holstein Enterprises.”

   “There wasn’t any sign on the table when we sat down,” Grogan said, stifling a belch. “Why should we move?”

   “The error is mine,” he said. “Notification should have been present. I will provide you with a round of beer on the house to make it up to you.”

   One of the men walked over to the table, looking down at them with a sneer, “They should not be bribed to move, just do as they are told.”

   Manning looked up, his face flashing red, but Cooper shook his head, “Take it easy, Clive. We’ll take the drinks. Any other table do?”

   “No, we’ll take the drinks. Have them delivered to us.”

   Glancing at Cooper, Manning said, “Are we just meant to take this?”

   “Plenty of space in the bar for both of us,” Cooper said. “Come on. Someone help Grogan.”

   “Yes,” the man sneered. “Someone help Grogan. You can leave the pretty one here, though, she can entertain us until the dancers come on.”

   Cooper stood up, looking the man in the face, “We’re moving. All of us.”

   “Maybe she’d like a real man, not one with a metal hand.”

   Since it was fitted, Cooper had wondered what would happen when his new, titanium hand connected with another man’s face. The result was a rather satisfying, bloody mess, and the man collapsed down onto the floor screaming in pain. No doubt the manager would have liked to ask him to leave, but he was too busy diving for cover as his compatriots raced over to avenge his injury; Barbara and Manning rose to stand by his side, Grogan sitting at the table drunkenly cheering them on.

  “This can end now,” Barbara said, but one of the women dived towards her, fists flying through the air as they both crashed down onto the floor. Cooper moved to help, but soon had problems of his own; two of them had grabbed onto him, trying to push him down to the ground as well. Manning threw a few ineffective punches at them, but they didn’t even seem to notice as they wrestled Cooper down. With a twist, he managed to get his legs underneath one of them, sending him toppling, smashing into the table; beer, glass and metal flew through the air, Grogan leaping to her feet in rage.

  Somehow, Cooper found himself on top of the throng, but when he tried to bend his hand for a second try, he found it would not respond. With a sickening feeling, he lashed out with his legs, managing a kick that connected with an elbow; he found, after listening to a crack, that he could suddenly get to his feet. Barbara was on the ground, wrestling with her opponent; before he could do anything, Grogan had smashed a glass over the crew-cutted figure on the deck, knocking her to one side.

   Glancing up, he saw another group in uniform heading in their direction and yelled, “That’s it for this party, back to the ship!”

   Grabbing at Barbara with his working hand to get her moving, he started to walk out of the bar; the room had emptied at a spectacular rate, drinks and food abandoned in the rush for safety. A crack rang out, and he realized that someone had just decided to escalate. He didn’t waste any time trying to find the culprit, instead, throwing himself to the ground, toppling a table to provide him with cover. With an effort, he tugged his pistol out of its holster, looking around the room from his safe vantage point.

   Grogan was still on her feet, and another crack close to her must have missed by inches; Manning, crawling on the ground, pulled her at the knees to send her to the ground, knocking her cold in the process. That was probably for the best, he mused, as he looked around the room. The gunman had taken a position behind the bar, and was well covered; the surface was some sort of metal, but the side was just plastic. Fairly thin plastic.

   Taking a shot that was as much guesswork as training, he fired through the thin material and was rewarded by a string of curses from behind the bar; he’d managed to shoot somewhere painful, but not fatal. Unfortunately, they were no longer the only ones with weapons in the arena. He saw at least two weapons out, and a crack from nearby told him that either Barbara or Manning was getting involved in the action; he would have bet on the former.

   His guess would have been wrong; he turned to see Cantrell sprinting down the concourse, gun in hand, firing into the bar. He frowned at first, her shoots seemingly wild, but then smiled as he realized she was keeping them pinned down, shooting over their heads to hold them while she got in position to make some better shots. She might be doing something stupid, but she was at least doing it in a clever way.

   “Here comes the cavalry!” she yelled, hurling herself into position next to Cooper. “Heard the fun clear across the room.”

   “So did their friends,” he said, gesturing to the far side of the bar; another three figures were moving into position. One of them moved, and he took another quick shot, a glass shattering and sending its contents flying across the room.

   “You’re slipping,” she said with a smile, lining up another shot. His eyes widened; she was aiming right for the head, and he batted her arm away with a curse.

   “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

   “Trying to get us out of this mess,” she replied.

   “Killing someone isn’t going to help.”

   He heard a hissing noise from overhead, and looked up to see something coming out of the air vents. Obviously security had finally woken up to what was going on, and had decided to intervene; the concourse was full of coughing and spluttering. Pulling his shirt over his face, he took a couple of deep breaths while the air was still breathable, and clambered out of his position to make for the exit.

   He managed nine steps before collapsing to the deck, his last thought that the pickpockets were going to have an absolute field day.

  Chapter 13

   “This way,” Karim told Marshall, gesturing him down a corridor marked ‘Detention’. They walked past jeering drunks and sullen inmates, past a group wearing tattered purple-and-green uniforms who kept staring at him, until he reached the final cell, holding five of his people. One of them, Grogan, seemed to be fast asleep on the floor; the others leapt up as he approached, barely able to stop the reflex of standing to attention.

   “Under other circumstances,” Karim said, “I would note and admire the
discipline of your crew. As it is, I will leave you to speak to them. Call the guard when you wish to leave.”

   Marshall stood at the entrance to the cell, looking at each of them in turn, then said, “Anyone have anything to say?”

   “I’m responsible, sir,” Cooper said. “I threw the first punch.”

   “Damn it, Gabe,” Manning said, “You were well and truly provoked. That guy wanted a fight, and you gave it to him. He just didn’t realize the odds.”

   “Perhaps he will think again when his facial reconstruction is completed.”

   Cooper looked down at his still-broken hand, then said, “I didn’t realize it would have that much of a kick.”

   “What the hell did you think you were doing, anyway?”

   Caine walked down the corridor, nodding at the guard, and moved to stand behind Marshall, “I’ve spoken to the manager of the bar.” She turned to look at them, “For reference, nineteen thousand credits. And that’s with the bill split between two ships. No doubt he ripped us off, but I wasn’t really in a position to negotiate.”

   “Thanks, Maggie,” Marshall said. “Have you anything to say for yourselves?” He tapped a pocket, and said, “I have taken steps to make sure we can’t be overheard.”

   “You can’t blame Cooper,” Barbara said. “He tried to calm everything down, but Manning’s quite right; he was asking for trouble. We weren’t getting out of there without a brawl.”

   “A brawl is one thing,” Caine said. “Pulling out pistols is another.”

   “I didn’t fire first,” Cooper said. “When they started shooting, I had to defend myself, but I made sure not to shoot to kill – just to put down.”

   “The medical bills are about as substantial as the damages to the bar, but I understand they are claiming off their insurance,” Caine replied, looking up at Marshall, “I think their commander feels the same way about this affair as you do.”

   “Hell,” Barbara said, “I could make an argument that we were only trying to keep cover. It would have looked strange if we’d just slunk away. There’s such a thing as keeping too low a profile.”

   Marshall shook his head, “You will all no doubt be glad to know that the Station Administrator has agreed to release you all into my custody. Over the next couple of weeks you will all be intimately familiar with the rather more disgusting areas of Ouroboros; I’ve arranged for some cleaning equipment to be provided for you all.” He tapped a button, and the door slid open. “All but Cooper, get back to the ship.”

   “Sir,” Barbara began, but he interrupted her.

   “I gave you an order.”

   She looked briefly as though she was going to refuse, but walked out of the room, followed by the others; Manning and Cantrell carried Grogan between them. Cooper stood at almost-attention, looking ahead.

   “Are you going to behave like that when you are next down on a planet?”

   “No, sir. I will be operating either alone or with a partner, not trying to chaperon a group of drunks on shore leave.”

   “You really are sure that your career is over, aren’t you.”

   “How is your hand?” Caine asked.

   “It stopped working after the punch. Hopefully Garland can fix it.”

   Nodding, Marshall said, “Probably. We’ll make sure we have the spares on board, anyway. Do you think this was a set-up?”

   “I don’t think so,” he replied. “It looked like a group of arrogant blowhards pushing their weight around, and probably wanting to relieve some tension. They got their wish. Are shoot-outs common out here?”

   “Common enough that every part of the station has tranq canisters fitted, triggered by gunshots that don’t come from a registered weapon,” Caine said. “Good bit of design.”

   “In that case, I stand by what I said.”

   “I’ve looked at the footage, and it corroborates your story. Had you not been provoked, I’d probably have just left you here to pick up on the way back, but ultimately, no harm has been done. Nevertheless, I will put a citation on your record, if that means anything to you.”

   “It does, sir,” he replied, looking at the ground. “I won’t let you down again.”

   “I’ve canceled all leave, anyway, so this won’t recur. Once you’ve got your hand fixed, you can report for cleaning duties.”

   “One thing, sir. Cantrell.”

   Marshall glanced at Caine, then said, “What about her?”

   “She came to help her crew out, sir. Wasn’t involved in the fracas. I don’t think you should say anything to her, but I rate it as a good sign.”

   “Noted. Now head on up to medical and get that hand sorted out.”

   He nodded, managing to resist the urge to salute, and walked past the two of them, half-jogging to catch up to the others. Marshall glanced after him, then turned to Caine.

   “His heart’s in the right place.”

   “You had to do something official, though.”

   “Hell, we’ve both done worse on leave.”

   “We didn’t get caught, though.”

   Looking around, he said, “They obviously have a lot of business here.”

   “Typical belter outpost. I could show you ones that look just that same at Proxima and Sirius.”

   “The difference being that we are more than thirty light years from home. Feels strange that being out here is…”

   “You were expecting strange alien cities, mysterious lost worlds?”

   “Not having to get my people out of hock for bar brawls.”

   “Cooper has a hell of a lot of tension to work out of his system. It might be no bad thing for him to do it now, rather than when it might get us into real trouble.”

   “Maybe,” he said, shaking his head. “We might as well have a walk around the station ourselves. There’s an observation deck a few levels up.”

   “Don’t fancy going to the bazaar, then,” she said, smiling.

   “I think I might give that a miss for a while.”

   The two of them walked out of the corridor, and were about to step into an elevator when Karim appeared, moving between them and the door.

   “Yours was not the only crew represented here last night,” he said. “It happens, out here.”

   “Nevertheless, I apologize, once again.”

   “Hassim has enough money to repair his bar, the idiot who decided to challenge a man with a titanium fist will have a scar that will attract the ladies for the rest of his life, and certain elements of your ship will be cleaner than they have been in many years, I suspect. Where is the harm?” He grinned, then said, “We are used to people playing hard. As long as they pay for the damages, it is well.”

   “Discipline…”

   “Is for ships plying the stars. Not men and women sitting in bars.”

   Caine looked over at Marshall, then said, “This is about you canceling shore leave.”

   “It really isn’t necessary,” Karim added. “I am not displeased with your crew.”

   “I am,” Marshall said, “and I fear it is necessary. In any event, we will be leaving in a couple of days.”

   “Schedules are the enemy of pleasure. I caution you to savor life while you can.”

   “You never give up, do you?”

   “Being an honest merchant, I would never get anywhere if I was not persistent.”

   “Perhaps next time.”

   “Could I at least offer the two of you refreshments? I happened to overhear that you were making your way up to the Observation Deck. The twin planets are crossing our little red star at present; it is a beautiful sight.”

   Looking down at his watch, he replied, “That would be very good of you.”

   “I will have them waiting for you.”

   They stepped into the elevator, while Karim started barking into a communicator behind them. It took only a few moments to r
ise to the top of the module, and the two of them stepped out into a spectacular hemispheric dome, starlight shining through in a million directions. Behind them, the twin planet the station was orbiting – which once was one, before some unknowable catastrophe had shattered into two tumbling halves – was passing in front of the red dwarf primary, dimmed through its thin atmosphere.

   Waiting for them on the table was a silver platter, loaded with vegetables, hard-boiled eggs and pate; Marshall looked down at it, then up at Caine, who shrugged. He reached down for a piece of lettuce, and smiled at the crunch it made in his mouth.

   “This is real.”

   “We’re being spoiled, Danny.”

   “And eggs, as well. I don’t think they’ve been fabricated.”

   “Only one way to find out,” Caine said, reaching down. Marshall looked at the underside of the platter, and noticed a trio of almost-imperceptible bulges underneath. With a smile, he looked up at Caine, and winked.

   “I think now we can discuss our plans. After all, we’re alone up here.”

   “Yes,” she said, kneeling down opposite him as he pulled a stylus from his pocket.

  Lowering his voice, he said, “The most important thing…”, before slapping the hidden microphones with his stylus as loud as he could. Caine did likewise, and they knew that somewhere, a straining operator was going to be reaching for the aspirin.

   “Thanks for the food,” Marshall said to the air, “but I don’t think you will find our conversation particularly interesting.”

   “A pity,” Karim’s voice said, echoing through the chamber. “I give up my lunch for nothing?”

   “You’re welcome to join us,” Caine said.

   “Alas, a commander’s work is never done. Enjoy the food, and the view, and if you are inspired to yield some of your secrets, feel free.”

   “We’re far too boring for that,” Marshall said, “but the sentiment is appreciated.”

   Caine wandered over to one of the walls, taking periodic bites from the egg, “That’s Sol, isn’t it.”

   “That it is,” Marshall replied. “So damn small, isn’t it.”