Take The Star Road (The Maxwell Saga) (9 page)

They started walking again as the cleaning cart moved away. Tomkins added, "The Bosun's right. Our merchant spacer grapevine has a long memory. Years from now, you'll run across people who knew you way back when. They'll remember you, and talk about the kind of person you
were
, even if you've changed since then. The reputation you establish over the next few weeks and months will stay with you for the rest of your career, so it's best to make sure it's one you'll want to keep!"

"I get it. Thanks for - "

His words strangled in his throat as two men, both short, stocky and visibly of Far Eastern extraction, jumped out of a narrow side alley and stood facing them, half-crouched. Both wore black shirts and trousers. The leader also sported a black waistcoat, and held a pair of short, heavy
wing chun
butterfly swords, curved points angled upwards. Heart suddenly pounding in his chest, Steve recognized him. He was the leader of the six men who'd attacked Louie a few nights before, who'd fled after seeing most of his comrades brought down. The second man, standing to one side and slightly behind the leader, grasped the hilt of a long-bladed
dao
backsword in both hands.

The leader spoke, his voice a malevolent hiss, face twisted in a scowl of hatred. "You shamed me and my Tong! Now you
pay!
"

A sudden scuffling noise came from the alley, and a strangled yelp. The speaker whipped his head around towards the sound, and Steve seized the opportunity. He dropped his coffee cup and the towing strap, slid smoothly forward and lashed out with a
mae geri
frontal kick, lifting his right thigh then driving his lower leg outwards from the hinge-point of the knee. The hardened toe of his work shoe crunched into the man's right wrist with vicious power, slamming it back into his chest. He grunted in pain, the knife falling from his right hand.

Steve snapped his foot back to the floor. His off-balance opponent, staggering backward, slashed wildly at him with the weapon in his left hand. Steve swayed back, outside the arc of the blow - but collided with his baggage tower, which had followed the signal from the tracking unit at his waist and now blocked his retreat. Only his attacker's rearward motion saved him as it opened the distance between them. The blade nicked his jacket, but didn't touch his skin.

Before the bladesman could reverse his swing Steve pushed himself off the baggage tower, using it to lend impetus to his forward lunge. He seized the man's left wrist and arm and twisted them, angling the weapon away from him, forcing his enemy to drop it. The bladesman screamed as something snapped in his arm with an audible
crack!
Steve kept up the pressure, tugging at his off-balance foe, pulling him over his hip then slamming him down hard on the unyielding steel, driving the air from his body with an agonized
"Unfh!"
He wrenched at the man's arm to pull his shoulder back, twisting his neck, exposing his head, then put his full weight behind his knee, driving it down into the base of his opponent's skull. The man's face hit the floor at an angle with sickening force, wrenching his jaw out of its socket with the impact, drawing a gurgling moan of agony.

Steve flicked a glance to see what the other attacker was doing, but he needn't have worried. In the instant that his kick had landed on the leader, the Bosun had taken advantage of the distraction he'd provided to hurl his coffee cup full into the second man's face. Its flimsy lid came off, splashing steaming-hot coffee into his eyes.

As the blinded bladesman flinched, Tomkins jumped forward and launched a roundhouse kick, his shoe striking the attacker squarely in his testicles with shattering power. His victim screamed, beginning to fold forward onto himself like a pocketknife, dropping his
dao
; but Tomkins grabbed his jacket and lashed out with his right hand in a pile-driver of an uppercut. He began the punch below his waist, putting his full weight and momentum and all the power of his back and shoulder muscles behind it. It caught the bladesman squarely on his descending nose, smashing it, sending blood spurting. In a continuation of the blow Tomkins seized the man's hair and slammed him face-down, very hard, to the floor. He bounced, then lay motionless.

As Steve rose, still grasping his victim's wrist, twisting his arm to lock it and control his movements, he heard Tomkins mutter, "That'll teach the bastard!" He looked across as he massaged his right hand's knuckles with his left palm. "Nicely done, Maxwell. You move real fast and smooth - but you'll have to remember to turn off your baggage tracker next time!"

Steve nodded, breath coming fast, heart pounding, trembling as the adrenaline rush hit him. He reached back to switch off the tracker.

"Yeah, that caught me off balance. I never had to fight wearing one of them before!" As he spoke, he toed the fallen blades further out of reach, then bent to pat along his opponent's waistline. He felt something, tugged the man's waistcoat aside and pulled a wooden scabbard from behind his belt. A stone knife hilt rose from it. He tucked it into his own belt, beneath the right side of his uniform jacket.

Tomkins grinned wolfishly. "Let's say we make a good team." He looked back at the Bosun. "Nice throw. You set him up perfectly for me."

"Heads up!" Cardle called urgently, looking past them. As they spun around, they saw six more men emerge from the narrow alleyway. All were of Far Eastern descent, like their two attackers, but they made no threatening move. Five wore identical gray coveralls, while the leader - whom Steve also recognized from his encounter outside the Horseshoe Saloon a few nights before - was dressed in black trousers and a loose-fitting collarless white shirt, open at the neck. He raised his right hand, holding it across his chest, fingers forming a claw-like sign.

"Easy!" Steve warned his comrades. "These guys are Dragon Tong."

He let his attacker's arm fall to the floor. The man whimpered, rolling slowly onto his back, jaw hanging slackly, eyes flooded with tears and unfocused. A mixture of blood and spittle leaked from his mouth.

"Let Maxwell handle this," the Bosun confirmed. He and Tomkins took a slow, careful step backward, ready for whatever might be needed.

Steve half-bowed to the lead figure. "We meet again, Sir," he said carefully, trying to adopt the same polite, formal tone he'd heard Louie use with this man.

"We do indeed," the other agreed. "We have been trying to locate this one since your previous encounter with him," nodding towards Steve's victim. "He did not show himself, but he paid others to watch you; so we watched them. That one," pointing to Tomkins' victim, "saw you this morning. As soon as you met your colleagues, he hurried to warn his master. They took a short-cut to get here before you, bringing four more armed with knives and a pistol. We dealt with them in the alley before they could join these two."

"We heard you do that. The noise distracted them." Steve nodded toward their fallen attackers. "That helped us to disable them. We're grateful to you."

"As we are grateful to you for preserving the life, eleven days ago, of one who is of value to us. I trust you have received the reward we promised you?"

"Yes, Sir, thank you."

"Thank your skills and courage, which earned it, and the Lotus Tong, which paid it - somewhat less than willingly, of course!" He grinned as he toed Steve's victim contemptuously. "We shall take these carrion with us."

He nodded to his followers, who collected the fallen weapons, picked up the two men, and carried them into the alley. As they worked Steve asked, "Sir, what about the security cameras in this passage? Won't they show the fight, and your presence, and lead to questions from the police?"

The man tapped a small black box on his belt. A tiny red diode shone next to a switch on its edge. "This scrambles the entire police network, including its security cameras, within a radius of several hundred meters. It doubtless causes great puzzlement and vexation to the authorities." From behind him, Steve heard the Bosun and Tomkins snort with amusement.

"I see. Thank you, Sir."

"I note you are wearing merchant spacer uniform now." He reached into a pocket and brought out a small black disk. "You have proven yourself a valiant fighter yet again. In recognition of that, I give you this, over and above the reward you previously earned. Keep it safe. If you encounter... difficulties... on other planets where our Tong is present, seek out our representatives and show this to them. It demonstrates that we share a relationship of honor and mutual respect. It will gain you a hearing, and such assistance as they can provide without excessive cost."

Steve accepted the disk from him. It was about three centimeters across, made of black stone polished to a smooth, gleaming lustre. A dragon's claw, similar to the identifying gesture the man had used, was incised on one side, with a three-digit number in tiny characters below it. A complex Chinese character occupied the other side of the disk. All the designs had been inlaid in silver. A hole was bored near one edge, presumably to allow the disk to be hung from a cord or chain.

"Thank you very much, Sir. Er... how shall I find them?"

"In space, pass the word through the usual underworld channels, such as I'm sure you've encountered here." Steve nodded wordlessly. "Also, in the capital cities of many major planets you'll find a restaurant named the 'Royal Golden Dragon', offering foods from many Eastern national cultures. Other restaurants might use similar names; so to avoid confusion, visit it and look carefully for the dragon's claw," and he nodded to the disk in Steve's hand. "It will be hidden discreetly in the decor in several places; carved into wood furniture or fittings, or as part of a frieze, or woven into a tapestry. If you see it, show that disk to the manager on duty. Contact will be arranged as quickly as possible."

"Thank you, Sir. I take it other restaurants don't use that symbol?"

The man smiled. "Let us say they would be unwise to do so - and certainly would not do so for long."

"I see. If they ask, who should I say gave this to me?"

"Tell them you received it from the Red Pole of the Dragon Tong at this Terminal. The inlaid character indicates my rank, and the numerals below the dragon's claw identify this branch of the Tong. They will, of course, contact me or my successor to verify everything. I shall note your name in our records for that purpose, along with details of how you have helped us."

"Yes, Sir. Once again I thank you."

"If your travels bring you back this way, perhaps we shall meet again. Farewell."

The speaker inclined his head courteously, turned on his heel, and followed his men into the alley. Their footsteps receded into the distance.

The Bosun broke the silence. "Well, well, well! Having seen you fight, Maxwell, I now understand why Louie's still alive. You move like a cat, fast, balanced and smooth. It's a pleasure to watch you - although I'd prefer not to be on the receiving end!"

"Thanks, Bosun."

"What was that all about, anyway?" Tomkins asked.

The Bosun told him about Louie's encounter with the Lotus Tong some nights previously, and how Steve had helped save his life.

"So these guys were trying for evens?"

"I guess so," Steve agreed.

Tomkins sniggered. "Bad,
bad
idea! You scared me at first, though. I thought he was sure to get you when you first moved in on him, but he reacted too slowly."

"After I earned my black belt, I took part in several full-contact karate and mixed-martial-arts competitions. I learned the hard way that if you didn't anticipate an opponent's attack, he could get a fast strike through your defenses before you could react. That's what I did when the noise in the alley distracted that guy. Besides, what bladesman expects an unarmed victim to move
towards
his knife? I got inside his reaction time and beat his reflexes."

"You sure did! The Bosun told me you'd be sparring together. If karate teaches you to fight like that, I'd like to join you. I might learn something."

"Sure," Steve and the Bosun agreed in unison. The older man added, "It'll let me work out my frustrations on you when you don't listen to me!"

Steve grinned as Tomkins mock-winced. "If you like, Bosun, we can open our sessions to anyone in the crew who wants to take part," he offered. "I reckon between the two of us, we can provide basic instruction."

"We'll see who's interested. What was that you took from the guy you put down?"

"A knife of some kind. I didn't look closely at it." He drew the curved blade from where it and its scabbard had been concealed behind his jacket. "That's strange. The whole thing's carved from a single piece of pale stone."

"May I see it?" The Bosun took it from him, examining it closely. "I think it's jade. I picked up some jade carvings several years ago as part of a trade, and sold them to a dealer on Vesta. This looks like the white jade they call 'mutton-fat'. There are several Chinese characters carved at the base of the blade, here." He showed them to Steve. "The edge isn't very sharp, and it's got several small nicks, see? This one's developed a hairline crack running halfway up the width of the blade. You'd better not handle it very much, to avoid making it worse."

He returned it to Steve. "I think it's some sort of ceremonial dagger, perhaps a badge of office. It may be very old. I guess it's yours now - to the victor go the spoils, and all that sort of thing! You're not allowed to have private weapons on board unless they're stored in the strongroom, but I don't see how this can be considered a weapon. Keep it locked away securely - and don't talk about it, either of you, so no-one else gets any fool ideas. If anyone sees it and asks, refer them to me and I'll square them away."