He took a seat two stools down from what turned out to be a very nervous-looking, middle-aged woman in conservative clothing. She wore a long white skirt that went to her ankles and a burgundy blouse, whose neckline went no further than her neck. Beneath her hat was a plain face, with a narrow, but prominent nose, a wide mouth and strong chin. Her eyes squinted, as though she had left her glasses at home, but he could see that they were a very pretty blue.
Kendrick figured that with a little makeup, she might be pretty. For some reason, he found her kind of cute, though he felt bad for the woman; her face lined with worry and wore the expression of a woman awaiting her execution. She tightly clutched what looked like an old, worn, leather physician’s bag and looked furtively about, as though she were carrying the very gifts of the Magi themselves. He heard Casey address her as “Doc,” so he assumed that she was a doctor.
O’Malley’s was reputable, so it was odd for her to be so cagey. Her conservative and genteel attire made her stand out in the blue-collar pub as it was; and her nervousness made her stand out even more. The hat was just ridiculous. She was clearly trying to be secretive, but her entire ensemble and manner conspired to make her anything but. Though he had not even met the woman, Kendrick felt protective of her; whatever she was going through must be rough. He had another longing for female companionship. She was likely more than ten years his senior and he was forty. Still, he found her attractive nonetheless.
He had only been with one woman since his wife had passed away and that had been quite a while ago. She’s by herself and definitely looking to run, he thought. It might not be such a bad idea. He looked around the room and spotted the Zduhać. They were heckling the occupants of another table, probably trying to start a fight. He noticed that they wore patches identifying them as part of the Interplanetary Bounty Hunters Union. His eyes drifted to the table with the Alliance agents; three Asian men and one woman of African descent, who was definitely an American. Just my luck, he thought, as he noticed that they were all looking in his direction. Casey had not noticed him yet, so he simply sat back and eavesdropped on the conversation between the barkeep and the woman in the straw hat.
Oblivious to the activity around her, the doctor ordered another drink. She normally did not have more than one, but this might be her last drink as a free woman for the foreseeable future.
“They will catch you, you know,” Casey said to her as he poured the drink.
“It doesn’t matter; I can’t leave,” she lamented. Picking up the drink and looking at it as she swirled it around, she exhaled a deep sigh. “My passes are all deactivated. I’m out of money, so I cannot even bribe my way onto a ship.”
“Have you tried Father O’Bannon?”
“No. I won’t put him at risk. I’m classified as an interplanetary terrorist now. Involving him will only hurt the only church on this damnable station. You know they’ll close it down at the drop of a hat. I cannot be the cause of that. No, this is the end of the line. Fifty-two years with nothing to show.”
“Ah, lass, but that ain’t true,” Casey protested, but the doctor shook her head.
“Casey, I’m a penniless, childless old maid,” she lamented. “I had wanted … so much more; a husband, children, a family … but it’s over. There is nothing left for me to do but wait until they finally close in. Hopefully, my last hours of freedom will be interesting.”
“Well, don’t look now, Doc,” said the bartender, “but interesting is sitting two stools to your left.”
She looked over and saw a tall man clad head to toe in black leather. The jump suit had a high collar and was form fitting enough for her to tell that he was fairly well-built. He wore his hair in a pompadour style, something she would never have recognized had she not seen an old movie from the twentieth century at a museum as a little girl. The man had an air of cool confidence about him and his upper lip was in a perpetual curl resembling a snarl. At his hip was a pulse pistol. When she was a teen, she would have swooned for him. Now, she just looked admiringly.
“Who is he?” she whispered, leaning in close so that “Interesting” would not hear her ask.
“Captain Ken Royce,” replied the bartender softly as he absently cleaned a glass. “He delivers our beer and whiskey.”
Captain Ken Royce looked at Casey and waved. “Evenin’, Casey,” he said with what she thought was a southern drawl, turning to the bartender.
“Aye, Captain Royce,” Casey responded, excusing himself to walk down and take the dashing captain’s drink order. “The usual glass o’ Jameson tonight?”
The doctor listened to the two men, hearing them clearly, as Royce was not bothering at all to keep the conversation private.
“Yeah,” Royce replied. “Say, do you know them hound dogs over at table six? They’re definitely Alliance. Stick out like a sore thumb no matter how hard they try to blend in. Seem to have taken a shine to me.”
“I don’t know ’em,” replied Casey softly, but still loud enough for her to hear. “But aye, they’re Alliance. They’ve been here a while, but it ain’t you they’re interested in.” Casey subtly looked in her direction, prompting her to look away self-consciously.
“Lord, have mercy,” the captain sighed. “Well, if they’re lookin’ for trouble ...”
Casey poured the captain a glass of Irish whiskey and shook his head. “Steer clear o’ them, Captain. You just got paid and you leave on the morrow or sooner. No sense getting mixed up in any local trouble. Besides, don’t you have a standing challenge from Isao Fugita?”
Royce shook his head and rolled his eyes, a perturbed expression crossing his face.
The doctor found it cute in spite of herself. She sat quietly and sipped her drink, listening intently to the conversation between Casey and the dashing Captain Royce. Perhaps she had a way off this station after all. The conversation became more interesting as she listened.
“Yeah, I told him I ain’t interested,” Royce explained. “Space racing really ain’t my thing. Besides, I’ve seen the specs on the Fujin and she ain’t even close to a match for Selene.” He paused to take a draught from his whiskey glass, visibly savoring the drink before continuing. “But I ain’t interested in broadcastin’ how fast Selene is or what a hot pilot I am. I’m ten years his senior an’ I outgrew that shit before I was his age. I even told him I acknowledged he’s the faster man. Was that good enough for him? Noooo. He just has to push it.”
“Aye, lad. That’s his way,” chuckled Casey. “He’s a man o’ proof, not words. Best to give him the drubbin’ he got comin’ an’ be done with it. Nothin’ but an honest to goodness race ’ll shut that fooker up.”
Ken Royce nodded and went back to his drink, while the bartender went to another customer. He turned his stool to get a better view of the band, which in turn gave the doctor a better view of him. Royce was trim, well-groomed, and very good looking. Some men were pretty, but Royce was handsome in a rugged, masculine sort of way. More than that, though, he had a manner about him. She could not put it into words, but as cool as he looked, there was something kindly about him as well that put her at ease.
The captain stayed for about an hour, enjoying the pub music and keeping an eye on the Zduhać bounty hunters and the agents. One of the Zduhać stood abruptly and shouted at another patron in a language that she did not understand. The other patron stood and slugged the Zduhać, who then retaliated. Ken shook his head as the entire pub erupted in a fistfight. He downed his last of his whiskey and got up to leave. Then he reached over and touched her shoulder.
“Ma’am, if you’d like, I can walk you outta here.”
It was like a gift from Heaven. She certainly could not handle herself in a bar fight and was feeling rather panic-stricken, so the captain’s offer was just in time. The agents were busy defending themselves from the Zduhać, but now, clearly trying to head in her direction. Why the Zduhać were attacking them now was anybody’s guess, but it was a lucky break for her. She nodded quickly and go
t up, taking his hand. He gallantly led her away from the chaos that was engulfing the pub.
She walked briskly with Captain Royce, noticing that he seemed to have the uncanny ability to maneuver through the chaos without being hit or involving himself in the melee. She could not help but admire him. His offer of aid without any seeming thought of return was also very generous. Too bad I don’t have time to try to get to know him, she thought wistfully. As appealing as it might be to stay with him and ask him to take her away from it all, she thought better of it. She would only complicate his life and he probably would not be interested in a woman her age anyway. She heard a shout from inside the pub:
“Stop her! She’s getting away!”
It was time to go her own way. Once they cleared the door, she looked at him. Ah, what the heck, she thought, as she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, saying, “Thanks!” Then, she let go of his hand and ran as fast as she could, thankful that she had eschewed the affectation of high heels.
“You’re welcome,” she heard him call as she ran off.
Can’t be seen with anyone, she thought. As the security forces streamed past her, heading to the pub to take care of the Zduhać, she removed her glasses from her shirt pocket and put them on, then doubled back to the docks to see if maybe she could find a way off of the station. It was dumb luck that those genetic freaks had started the fight; the brawl was now spilling outside of the pub and drawing in passers-by and security had their hands full. Finding one lone woman in the mess was not going to be a priority for them. Good luck finally came my way, she thought as she fled the scene.
2
Captain Royce shook his head as the woman fled. Aww shucks, he thought, drawing a flask from his jacket pocket and taking a quick swig of the Jameson he kept it filled with. The fight was already spilling outside of the pub and engulfing the surrounding area, so he beat a hasty retreat, making his way back to the dock to board his ship. Casey had thought that he was leaving on the morrow, but in truth, he was leaving before midnight. Rounding the corner, his ship’s berth was visible through the picture window. He always took a moment to admire the Selene, no matter how many times he saw her. Selene was not like other vessels; she was long and sleek, her entire surface a shimmering, reflective silver with overtones of blue.
While most ships had a modular design with large, boxy sections spinning to create gravity, Selene was long, some ninety-two meters from stem to stern, and graceful, with a pair of tapering spokes that resembled wings, each ending in a cylindrical nacelle containing the passenger sections. The spin gravity mechanism seamlessly blended into Selene’s design, maintaining her sleek appearance, looking like a large aeroplane when docked. Both ahead and behind the spokes were two sets of smaller wings with V.T.O.L. (Vertical Take Off and Landing) azimuth engine pods built into them, making her atmosphere capable. She had a fixed bridge, more like the cockpit like the old space shuttles, so he had to stay strapped in while flying her. The Selene had a fuselage, rather than looking like a family van with engines, the way that most modern ships did. A sleek tail section with the main engine completed the look. Selene looked fast just standing still. He approached and transmitted the command to open the docking tube. As the captain was about to board, the two Zduhać bounty hunters from the pub came around the corner.
“Captain Kendrick Royce,” one of the hunters called with a thick Russian accent.
“What can I do for ya?” Kendrick asked warily, walking to the base of the ramp.
“We are here to discuss—business,” one of them said with a somewhat sinister edge to his voice.
Royce walked from the docking tube and met them halfway, not wanting them getting too close to his ship. They met the captain and stared at him for a few moments without answering, sizing him up. The Zduhać were tall, a full two meters, and very muscular, but at a hundred and eighty-three centimeters himself, Kendrick was not short by any means, though he did not have their powerful build.
“Aw shucks, guys, y’all called my name and here I am, and now, you’re speechless? Come on, now; whatcha want?”
“I am Borislav and this is Yaroslav,” one of them offered. He honestly could not tell them apart. “We were tracking a woman and were nearly upon her. Then, you took her out the front door during the melee.”
“There is money to be had from turning her in,” added Yaroslav, sounding not much different from Borislav. He was trying to sound persuasive, but he just sounded creepy.
Kendrick hoped to put them off diplomatically. “Just walkin’ a lady to the door durin’ the action. Never seen her before, but she sure was a charmer. Wish she’d stuck around; wouldn’t mind gittin’ to know her better.” Which was the truth; he really did find her attractive, though it puzzled him. She was not at all his ‘type,’ though, neither was his late wife when they had met.
“Do not play dumb with us, weakling Human!” Borislav shouted, grabbing Royce’s collar.
The massive bounty hunter opened his mouth to say something else, but Kendrick quickly grasped Borislav’s fist with his left hand and struck the hunter in the neck with the edge of his right hand, using a shuto technique. As Borislav’s head snapped back from the solid strike, Kendrick deftly locked the hunter’s wrist, releasing the larger man’s grip and bending him forward. He struck Borislav’s elbow sharply with a downward heel palm, snapping it.
At the same time, Kendrick delivered a swift kick to Yaroslav’s left knee, collapsing it. Royce pulled his pistol, kicked out Borislav’s right knee, and then stepped back almost two meters. Yaroslav got up and tried to rush him, but Royce sidestepped and kicked the bounty hunter’s knee again, this time breaking it.
“Drop your weapons, NOW!” Royce threatened them with his pistol until they tossed their weapons aside. “Hands where I can see ’em!” Once they put their hands up, he activated his transceiver and contacted the port authority.
“Yeah, this is Captain Kendrick Royce. Check yer damned security cameras. Two Zduhać bounty hunters just attacked me. What the hell am I payin’ these outlandish docking fees for if you ain’t gonna patrol this trash heap?”
“Are you in any danger? Are you injured?” asked the voice at the other end.
“No, I ain’t in no danger! Thanks for askin’, but I already did your jobs for you, so y’all just need to come on down an’ collect the trash.”
He hung up, and with his foes down and security on the way, he holstered his pistol and drew a Taser, which he quickly used to render the two hunters unconscious. Then, he boarded his ship. The O.S.P. had gotten rougher each year since he had first visited and this incident made him consider raising his fees substantially.
Borislav and Yaroslav were not merely part of the rough element, however. They were bounty hunters in pursuit of a specific target and they would have happily broken his bones one by one if they thought it would have gotten them to that woman. Even though he did not know her name, he would never have given her up. Not that it mattered; he had no clue where she was or who she was. There was no use in worrying about it now, though.
Port security was already on the scene. Thankfully, they only wanted to verify Kendrick’s statement. They asked him no questions about the woman’s whereabouts. With Borislav and Yaroslav having starting the fight that had consumed O’Malley’s pub and had then spilled out into the station, ultimately costing millions of dollars in property damage, the police were already after them. All they really wanted from Kendrick was more ammunition to throw at the two hapless Zduhać.
Captain Royce was ready for immediate departure, so there was no sense in sticking around. He swaggered into the docking tube and onto his beloved silver liner. Entering the cockpit, he greeted the ship saying, “Hey, I’m back. How’s my girl?”
“Good evening, Captain Royce,” replied the AI in the voice of his late wife, her holographic image coming to life, smiling at him. The image was the head, neck and shoulders only. She wore the image of his late wife as well; dark, shoulder-length
hair, hazel eyes magnified by large-framed glasses, and fair skin. Her image reminded him of her passing, but also eased the pain somewhat. He thought of Jillian and the elusive doctor, reminding him that holograms could not engage in physical interaction. The AI spoke again, interrupting his thoughts.
“Captain Isao Fujita has been trying to contact you. I have given him no response, as you have instructed. However, we have an unauthorized boarding.”
“Oh?” He did not like the sound of that. He hoped it was not another bounty hunter. “What’d he look like?”
“She is a middle-aged woman with long, graying hair. Scans reveal no weapons. She is presently in your cabin.”
The woman from the pub; she had to be. Kendrick was ambivalent, however; had she asked him to take her away, he would have helped her free of charge. Though he could not deny that he was inexplicably attracted to her, stowing away was simply not acceptable. Perhaps she had a good reason, he thought as he began pondering his course of action; on the one hand, he not yet departed and security was just outside cleaning up the bounty hunters. He could hand her over to the cops and be on his merry way. On the other hand, he always logged his ship as carrying himself and one crewmember, so her presence actually legitimized his claim for a change.
In addition, something told him not to turn her over to security. Kendrick always trusted his feelings, though in this case, he hoped that it was not simply the feeling of loneliness. He transmitted the departure codes and prepared the ship for takeoff, hoping he would not regret the decision. With the codes sent, he contacted the station control tower.
“This is Captain Royce of the Selene, requesting clearance for takeoff. Departure codes transmitted.”
“Clearance granted,” replied the female voice of one of the tower’s traffic controllers. “Docking clamps releasing in three – two – one.” As she finished counting down, the clamps released and Selene was now floating free, though still in rotation with the OSP due to inertia. “Maintain maneuvering speed until you hit the safe zone.”
The Silver Liner: Takes Flight! Page 2
