He Who Dares: Book Two (The Gray Chronicals 2) (34 page)

“Right.  Where have I heard that line before  …’I’m just going into town to pick up a few things’…” he mimicked.  “And what happened?”  Before he could answer Jenks told him.  “You started a bloody riot that's what!”

“I wasn’t my fault…”  Mike protested.

“When you said…’pick up a few things… I thought you meant shopping, not three girls, one of whom was the chief of police’s daughter, his underage daughter I might add!”

“She wasn’t underage, unless you consider 23 underage.”  He shot back indignantly.

“Well, on Seamark they did.”  Jenks said, looking superior.  “So, I’m going.”

“I’m the bloody Captain of this ship…”  Jenks just looked at him a blank expression on his face, as if to say… and
that gets you what?... 
Mike just growled and went into the bedroom to change.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

The ‘Captain’s’ gig took them down with Mike at the helm so as not to use up any of the Marines shore leave.  He parked it on the edge of the landing field as a precaution, hearing the tower squawked at him until Mike barked something back at them in a language none of them understand.  After that, the controller fell silent.  He picked this particular spot, as the gig would be out of the landing field lights after dark, and something he felt might be advantageous if the evening didn’t go well.  Even so, they had only just started walking towards the distant terminal and the main gate when a battered ground car pulled up, a faded ‘Tazi’ sign on the side.

“Need a lift?”  The red face driver asked in heavily accented Standard English.

“How much?”  Mike shot back.

“Twenty Sirrien credits, and fifty Earth.”

“Get the hell out of here.  You’re a worse crook than I am.”  Mike snapped.  “Ten Earth at the most.  Take it or leave it.”  The driver looked at him again and reassessed his opinion that this was a bunch of wet behind the ears kids on their first shore leave.

“Ten Earth, it is.”

“And that’s all the way into town.  Drake Street at least.”

“What!  You have to be kidding.  That’s at least twenty-five. Kid.”

“Twelve!”

“Eighteen!”

“Fifteen and we’ll throw in a tip.”  The driver thought about it.  Drake Street?  This kid knew where he was going.  Not exactly, the good part of town, but better than dockside.

“Done.”  He said at last.

They piled in and the taxi took off in a cloud of diesel smoke, sounding as if it was about to fall apart.  It only took a few moments to get through Customs and immigration, not that they needed a lot of papers, just credits, or gold cash to pay the landing tax.  The drive to town wasn’t that far, but it took over an hour due to traffic as they inched they way out of the docks and landing area pass heavily loaded trucks and mag-lift freight cars.  Once out of the main crush of inbound and outbound traffic they made good time to Drake Street, where Mike paid the driver off.  He did add a ten credit note, seeing the man smile and touch his dirty cap.

“Thanks, Captain.  You are a sport.”  Driving off in another smelly cloud of diesel smoke.

“Don’t they have a clue about environmental damage, Skipper?”  Janice asked as she wiped her watering eyes with a tissue.

“Not a high priority item on their agenda right now.”

“You think it has something to do with the state of diplomatic relations?”

“You mean the coming war, Pete.”

“Yes, Skipper, but I didn’t want to put it like that.”

“At the moment the Government here is more worried about making money from both sides and stocking up on essentials.”

“Essentials?”

“Food stocks.  If the war starts, they might be cut from their main suppliers.”

“Why would these people need food?  They have a whole planet…  Oh, you mean to supply those that don’t have an agricultural base to draw on.”  Mike pointed a finger at her.

“Got it in one, Jan.  They are traders.  They don’t care who’s fighting the war, or who wins, just as long as they can keep trading with everybody and make money.”

“Damn cold bloodied if you ask me.”

“No, Pete.  Just practical is all.”  As they chatted the four of them worked their way through the crowded pavement, taking in the sights, sounds, and smell of the city.  As with most colonies, the City was a mix of new and old.

This part was ‘old’ town, and they could see the ‘new’ town rising above them in the distance as commerce pushed its way into the sky.  Unless someone stopped it, the city fathers would soon erase this part of town in the drive to modernize.  With it would go their heritage, but it was doubtful they looked upon this part of town that way.  To them it was gradually becoming an eyesore and something to get rid of as quickly as possible.  It was rowdy, smelly, colorful, and full of people on their way up or down the social ladder, and mainly run by the criminal element.  They weren’t much different them and the City Fathers, and probably many of them had their feet in both parts of town.  So, what else was new. 

There was probably more bars, whorehouses, and gambling joints per square mile here than the rest of the planet combined.  Mike wore his old flight jacket with the zip up pockets.  His dark pants were tucked into space boots and he wore a battered ships cap on his head.  One pocket had his wallet in it while the other had his comm unit, and either had his hand in it, or they were zipped up when he didn’t.  Pickpockets would have a hard time dipping him.  Pete and Janice took Mike’s lead and wore similar outfits.  Conspicuous on their hips were the side arms, but no pickpocket in his right mind would touch those.  Mostly due to the fact they were keyed to the user, therefore useless to them, and most had a nasty habit of exploding when tampered with. Mike took the lead, heading uptown, but he wasn’t exactly sure where he was going.  On his last trip here, the Third officer had taken him to a certain building by a roundabout path and he was half-drunk by the time he got there.  Seeing a bar called the ‘Copper Kettle’ that looked vaguely familiar he stepped inside the room, smelling of cigarette, cigar, stim smoke, stale beer and vomit.  It felt like he’d come home.

“Good lord!  People actually eat here?”  Janice asked after one whiff.

“I heard the foods great here.”  Mike shot back with a laugh.

“Better you than me, thank you very much.”

“Hey darling!  You looking for a good time?”  A large semi-drunk spacer asked.

“Yes, but I don’t think you can get your pathetic little dick up enough to satisfy me barf breath!  Now go away like a good little boy.”

“Stuck up bitch!”  The man replied as he staggered away.

“Humm… I don’t think Janice’s last sensitivity training class did much good, Skipper.”  Pete said loudly from behind his hand.

“You noticed that, did you?”

“Don’t you start!”  Janice cock an eyebrow at them.

“Wouldn’t think of it, Madam.”  Mike answered for both of them.  Jenks just stood back and watched, listening to the banter with half an ear.

Mike walked over to a table and literally pick one drunk up by the scruff of his neck, and grabbed the other one by his nose before proceeding to throw both of them out into the street.  This brought a laugh from the rough crown, and no one disputed his claim to the recently vacated table.  The bar keep arrived and proceeded to wipe off the table with a reasonably clean rag.

“What you having?”  He asked around the stub of a dead cigar in his mouth, as he looked the three over. 

The kid might look young, but you don’t pick a guy up completely off the floor unless you knew what you were doing.  The kid was displayed for the crowd, which said a lot.  The other two were young as well, but not in the kids class.  First trip out most likely.  The little guy at the back was the one to watch.  By the look of him, he’d been around the block a few times.  He wondered for a moment if he was related to the kid by the way he was protecting his back.  The little man looked at him and smiled, but there was no humor in it.

“I’ll have a mug of ‘Red Stripe’, and my friends will have the same.  The ‘Lady’ with have a glass of the local ‘dead duck’ wine.”  As he spoke, Mike laid a fifty credit note on the table.  The barkeep nodded, a slight smile on his face.  A kid he might look, but he knew his way around a bar.  Most off-worlders didn’t know about ‘Dead Duck’ or ‘Red Stripe’ beer, but the kid obviously did.

“Coming right up.”  He said, scooping up the note.

“Dead Duck?”  Janice asked, giving Mike a look.

“Yeah.  Probably one of the best red wines you’ve tasted in years.”

“Okay.  I’ll take your word for it.”

“And ‘Red Stripe?”  Pete asked.

“Great beer, just don’t drink too much of it.  It has a bit of a kick.”  As he spoke, Mike casually looked around the bar at the patrons as if sizing them up.  He was, but for a different reason.  What he was looking for wasn’t there.

Even without looking, he knew exactly where Jenks was, where he always was, and he smiled.  One reason he’d gone along with Jenks coming with them was that he felt he owed him.  The VC he wore on his dress uniform belonged to him and Taffy, not adorning his chest.  They’d bled more than him, and taken the brunt of the fighting, but there was no way he could talk either of them into taking it so giving in and letting him come along made him happy.  He was doing something he loved, no questions asked.  He suspected Taffy was pissed, and he’d never hear the end of it when he got back.  Jenks was in for it as well, figuring out a way to get into trouble without his friend being there to help.  Mike smiled to himself.  They’d work it out as they usually did.  The drinks arrived, and Mike ordered food for them all, buffalo steaks, eggs, chips and green salad on the side.  That got a few raised eyebrows from Pete and Janice, but Jenks just smiled.

“Just like down the Tottenham Court Road on a Saturday night.”  He murmured behind Mike.

Much to Janice’s surprise, the steaks were perfect, as was the rest of the meal and her estimation of the ‘Copper Kettle’ went up a notch.  The wine would have done excellent service at a Royal banquet, despite its name.  As they eat, Mike watched the comings and goings as dockworkers and spacers drifted in an out for a drink, but two hours passed before what he was looking for walked through the door.  An older man and a young woman walked in, and for a moment, the bar went silent.  The man was impressive, standing over six foot six and as broad as the back end of a barn.  The girl beside him looked petite, yet even she stood at least six foot.  By their clothes, they were spacers, richly dressed in dark leather and white silk shirts.  Between the open front of their long leather overcoats they wore, it was easy to see the worn, heavy duty blaster on their hips on one side, and an impressive long knife, or short sword on the other.  It wasn’t the weapons that made people sit up and take notice, it was their attitude.  They walked across the room to the bar as if they owned the place, nodding to a few people here and there.  You knew without being told that these were people you didn’t mess with, and the locals moved aside to make room for them at the bar.

“Who on Earth are they?”  Pete asked.

“Cocky looking.”

“They are crew off a Free Trader ship.”  Mike answered.

“Free Trader…  Wow.  I guess they have a right to be cocky.”  Unobtrusively, Mike took a small gold ring out of his pocket and slipped it onto the pinky finger of his right hand.

“Stay here and watch my back.  I need to go and have a word with someone.” Looking over his shoulder, he winked at Jenks as he stood. 

Picking up his empty mug, he strolled over to the bar and asked for a refill, shouldering between the locals and the big spacer.  While he waited for his order, Mike placed his right hand flat on the bar and waited for a reaction.  It wasn’t long in coming, as first the man, then the woman also placed their right hand flat on the bar.