by James McEwan
The man stared at him for a good long time before getting up and leaving the bar. St. Claire thought it was strange, but then the large-breasted bartender returned with his food and coffee. The smell of the food quickly replaced any thought of the man with the scar.
After his meal, he paid the tab and left the bar. The floor of the casino held no further interest for him, He thought maybe he would take advantage of his time and winnings to do a little shopping for the things he would need for his trip off world.
St. Claire had barely walked two blocks when a non-descript white work van screeched to a halt. The side door slid open and the characteristic blue light and a loud crack of a stun weapon lit up the street. St. Claire could do nothing to avoid the stunner’s beam. He was hit squarely in the chest, and before his body could hit the ground, two men leaped from the van and grabbed up the stunned St. Claire. It was over as quickly as it started, and the van roared off to be lost in the traffic.
When St. Claire woke, he found that he was tied to a chair in a dark room. It must have been somewhere below the street level because the heat and humidity were almost unbearable. He could hear water dripping somewhere off in the darkness. He struggled against his bonds to no avail.
As he struggled, a blinding light switched on and he heard the sounds of several boots scraping on the floor. He waited for the questions to come, but it was a fist instead. The first strike hit him in the jaw knocking out a tooth, which bounced off the concrete floor and off into the darkness. He was struck over and over in the face, the head, and about the body. His fine suit torn and blood-stained now. His vision was blurry from the blood that ran down his face and into his eyes. He was on the verge of passing out when he heard a voice. “That’s enough!”
St. Claire’s head was heavy and he could not hold it up so the man with the scar on his face entered the circle of light and grabbed St. Claire by the hair and lifted his head up so he could see his face. “You bastard, what makes you think that you can kill cops and get away with it?” St was too beat up to answer, all he could do was spit blood at the man.
“I just want you to know that you don’t have to worry about a trial or long drawn out wait for your execution. You will be reported killed while resisting arrest.” the man with the scar, said as he dropped St. Claire’s head. “Someone give me a gun.”
St. Claire was far too gone to understand what was happening around him. He was barely holding onto consciousness when blue light erupted into the room and the sound of a harsh crack was the last thing he heard before darkness.
St. Claire awoke and found himself in a comfortable bed, his bloody clothes gone, replaced by bedclothes of the finest silk. His wounds were healed and his hair was still wet. He was confused and disoriented. He sat up and looked around. At first, he was not sure where he was, but then he recognized his hotel suite. It was then that he noticed a shadowy figure sitting in a chair just outside the circle of light that encompassed his bed. The man in the chair noticed he was awake and spoke. “Ah, you’re awake.”
St. Claire stuffed a pillow behind his back and laid back. “Yes, and a little confused.”
“Confused? Yes, I’m sure you are.” The man in the chair said.
“I understand that I’m back in my hotel room and have been obviously cared for, so that leaves me to believe that you are Mr. Black.”
“Ah, the indomitable Sergeant Dominic St. Claire, astute as always, I see. I am Mr. Black, indeed.”
“So, is this the way you treat all of your guests?” St. Claire asked, with a bit of disdain.
“I’m not sure what you mean?” Mr. Black sounded genuine in his statement of denial.
“You know, the royal treatment followed up by a sound beating, and then you step up and play the nurse nightingale.”
“Ah, I see, well the answer to your question is both yes and no.”
St. Claire was not expecting that answer. “Care to explain?”
“The answer is that yes, I always give my guests the royal treatment, but I had no part in the beating. As it turns out if I hadn’t intervened you would be dead right now.”
St. Claire’s head was spinning as he took in this new information. “So if not you, then who?”
“It was your people.”
“Cops?” St. Claire asked.
“More like dirty cops.” Mr. Black answered.
“Well then, I guess I owe you my life, but can I ask what you did with them? Did you kill them?” St. Claire fired off his questions.
“Dominic, I may be many things, but despitewhat you may have heard about me, I am not, nor have ever been, a killer. I have built my empire with force at times, when necessary, but have always chosen to outsmart my enemies rather than kill them. So no, I didn’t kill them. No, I figure it’s better to let them get what is coming to them. They were delivered to their captain with a packet of evidence that chronicles all of their unlawful activities.”
St. Claire could not shake the feeling that he knew that voice. “Very nice, again, I’m in your debt.”
“You owe me nothing, I always pay my debts.” Mr. Black said with satisfaction in his voice.
Now really confused, St. Claire was starting to think Mr. Black might be a bit fruity. “You speak of debts like you know me, but Mr. Black I can’t say the same of you.”
Mr. Black stepped out of the shadows and into the light. “Oh, but you do know me and I owe you everything.”
The man standing in front of him was small in stature, only five feet tall and not more than a hundred and ten pounds. His black hair was slicked back and graying at the sides. He was impeccably dressed. His suit was of the highest quality and looked hand tailored His highly polished shoes looked like real leather, nothing like the fake stuff he was used to seeing. It took him a few seconds to realize who he was looking at. “Dickie, little Dickie Robertson?”
Mr. Black made a flourish with his hands. “In the flesh.”
“I haven’t seen you in what? Well, let’s say, since we were kids.” St. Claire said, feeling funny about admitting his age.
Little Dickie sat down next to Dom on the edge of his bed. “Yes, my friend it has been a long time indeed. Nevertheless, I have kept tabs on you over the years. I wanted to contact you many times. However, you were off world for years serving in the Rep Com police corps, then when you returned and joined the N.D.P.D., well, by that time I was deep into building my empire, and I didn’t think that it would be good for either of us to be in contact.”
“Yeah, it wouldn’t have been good for me to have to arrest an old friend. Now, what is this debt you spoke of? I don’t recall you lending me any money or doing anything that I would consider needing compensation for.” St. Claire paused and sat up suddenly extremely thirsty. “Would you mind, my mouth is so dry all of a sudden.”
Dickie handed him a large glass of flavored water. “Sure, I can imagine. The thirst is a side effect of the healing tank.” St. Claire took the glass and downed it.
“Another glass?”
“Please.” St. Claire said, as the cool liquid seemed to help.
Dickie picked up the picture that was on the nightstand and poured out another glass, then handed it to St. Claire. “Well you might not remember things the same way that I do. When my family moved in and I was the geeky, strange, and wimpy new kid at school you were the only one who was really kind to me.”
Stunned at his revelation, St. Claire blurted out. “Really? I always thought Suzan Franks liked you. She always seemed to be following you around.”
Dickie laughed. “Suzan! She was just using me. She wanted me to help her with her math and history. However, when I was no longer useful she stopped talking to me.”
“Ouch! I’m sorry to hear that.” St. Claire said.
Dickie saw the look on St. Claire’s face. “Oh, don’t feel sorry for me, I got her back. Because I had access to her personal files, I found out a few intimate details about her.”
St. Claire’s eyes lit up as h
e remembered his time in Jr. High. “You were the one that posted her diary entry about her crush on Mr. Michaels, the principal?”
Dickie, smiled. “Yes, but it was not the first time that I used my extremely high I.Q. to deal with those who have done me harm and it is all thanks to you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Do you remember the first day we met?”
St. Claire dusted off the old memories. “Yes, I seem to recall piggy McGee was trying to smash your face into a pile of dog shit .”
“Yes, and as I remember you pulled him off me, and when he tried to hit you, you broke his nose.”
St. Claire smiled at the memory. “Yeah I guess I did, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did, sent him running home crying for his mommy. You did two things that day for me. You showed me that you can stand up to bullies.” Dickie paused to fondly remember the look on the bullies’ face when he got punched.
Noticing his pause, St. Claire asked. “And the other?”
“Oh yes, the other thing was. Well, do you remember what you said to me on that day?” Mr. Black asked trying to jar his memory. St. Claire couldn’t remember what he had said that day. “You said to me that I may be small and not able to fight with my fists, but there were other ways to fight. You taught me that I could use my mind to outsmart people and that is what I have been doing ever since. I also know that throughout the rest of the time in Jr. High and High School you looked out for me and kept anyone from bullying me again, even though you thought you kept it a secret.”
St. Claire knew he was smart, but it appeared that Dickie was smarter than even he gave him credit for. “Hm, I always thought that I did a good job of keeping my efforts to look out for you out of the limelight. I guess it was not good enough.”
Dickie smiled. “No, it was not good enough and I never forgot it, and I promised if I ever got the chance to repay you I would do without a second thought.”
Things started to make sense to him. “So that’s why the royal treatment.”
“Just a drop in the bucket for my oldest friend.” Dickie said as he stood up. “Now, you get some rest and when you feel up to it I would very much like to discuss why you are here to ask for my help. Also, I have a business offer for you.”
“Are you offering me a job?” St. Claire asked, fishing for more information.
“In light of recent events it seems you are in need of a new career, one that I would be happy to provide.” Dickie said as he straightened out his expensive suit as to make a point. “The pay would be, well beyond anything you have made in the past. All of this would just be a beginning.”
Sensing the baited hook, St. Claire smiled at his friend. “I thank you for your more than generous offer, but I’m a bit radioactive right now and I’m afraid that I would put you and your organization in great danger. I think it better if I turn down your offer.”
Disappointed that he didn’t take the offer, Dickie said. “I understand, but if you ever change your mind, the offer still stands. Oh! And one more thing, please in the rest of dealings, especially in front of staff, please call me Mr. Black. I would lose respect if anyone was to learn that the head of the most powerful crime organization on this planet was named little Dickie.”
St. Claire smiled. “Yeah, I guess you would. No worries Mr. Black, your secret is safe with me.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your discretion, my friend.” Mr. Black walked to the door, then he turned to face his friend one more time. “Oh, there is one more thing.” He opened the door and a tall, blond, well-built, pale-skinned woman walked in.
St. Claire was taken with her beauty right away. Her long blond hair was pulled into two long braids that hung down her over her ample chest to her waistline. Her long legs were covered by black leather tight pants with thigh-high boots that looked like they were made from the same black material. From the waist up, she was covered by what looked like silver armor with hard plates in places and a flexible mesh in others. Her incredibly toned arms were bare, with the exception of a golden band of swirled metal on her upper left arm. Her wrists were covered in the same silver-looking mesh and hard plate armor which on closer examination revealed that they were covered in intricate engravings, including what looked like ancient Norse runes. Her hands were bare and her fingers seemed just a little longer than normal humans. Her nails also looked as if they too were made of silver. All of this made her incredibly imposing, yet still a beautiful sight to behold.
Everything about her screamed of beauty, power and danger.Yet it was her deep crystal blue eyes that drew him in so deeply. “Dominic, I would like you to meet Kára. She is my personal bodyguard, but under the circumstances, I think you need her more than me.” She marched in and sat in the chair at the foot of the bed without saying a word.
St. Claire smiled. “Nice to meet you.” She sat motionless with no emotion on her face.
“Kára, you will not leave his side for anything until told otherwise.” Mr. Black said sternly.
St. Claire tried to protest, but Mr. Black would not hear of it. He turned and left the two alone.
Not sure what to do or say, he thought maybe he would try to get to know his new protector. “Well, I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Dominic St. Claire, but you can call me Dom if you like, all my friends do.”
“I know who you are, Mr. St. Claire.” she replied curtly.
“Please ... call me Dom.” he insisted.
“If you don’t mind, I prefer to stick to Mr. St. Claire.” she said in an amazingly cold and unemotional voice,
St. Claire slid out to the end of the bed and threw his legs over the edge. “Well, suit yourself. If you are not interested in talking, then I guess I will go take a shower. The smell of the healing tank is not sitting well with my nose.” She did not reply, so he stood up and walked to the bathroom. He turned to shut the door, but to his surprise he found Kára standing right behind him, which was a little disturbing because he never heard her move.
“Excuse me, but I think I will be okay in the shower. I don’t think anyone is going to accost me in here.” St. Claire said.
“Sorry Mr. St. Claire, but Mr. Black ordered me not to leave your side for any reason.” she said, as she stood her ground.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean this.” he said as he backed away from the door.
“Mr. St. Claire. Let me make this perfectly clear to you. If I am ordered to not leave your side, then that is what I will do. If that means you need to shower, then I shower with you. If you need to use the toilet, then I will use the toilet at that time, as well. You will go nowhere without me, do you understand?” she said, as she put her hands behind her back and undid her top. Before he could say anything, she removed it.
Stunned, he did not know what to do. He stood there watching his new friend remove her clothes without a single thought to modesty. She noticed he was not moving. “Something wrong? Are you shy?”
He never was before, but for some reason, he found himself shy at the moment. However, her comment affronted his male ego. He pulled off his shirt and then dropped his pants. “No, not at all.” She looked him up and down and saw the many old battle scars that covered his body. For the first time he saw a hint of emotion, she cracked a little smile.
She touched an old scar on his chest. “Battle scars?” she asked.
“Yes, you are looking at the broken body of an old soldier.” he said, not able to control his blush response.
She noticed him blushing. “You should never be embarrassed by scars earned in battle. To be scarred in battle is the highest honor a living warrior can hope to achieve.”
Suddenly he no longer felt embarrassed or shy. “Thank you, I guess. Well, time to get this over with.” He held the shower door open and gestured for her to enter first. She tossed her hair over her shoulders and walked past him. He noticed her pointed ears, then it all made sense to him. She was an Eli.
Eli are one of the oldest known races in the univers
e. Rare to see one as they were mostly relegated to myth and legend, and those that did interact with humans were usually doing so at the business end of an Eli blast weapon. Most of the Eli in this part of space are nothing more than space-going pirates.
He entered the shower and told the computer the temperature of the water he wanted. Seconds later the hot water was pouring down over the two of them. She stood in the water watching him soap himself up and again he got a glimpse of a smile. “See anything you like?”
This time, when he looked at her face, her smile widened into a recognizable smile. “Maybe.”
He laughed. “Maybe this might not be so bad after all.” If she understood what he was talking about she never made any signs of showing it. “So you are Eli.”
That made her perk up. “You know of my people?”
“Yeah. I have run across you people a few times before and I have to say not the most pleasurable experiences of my life.”
She looked a little hurt by his comment. “My people didn’t please you?”
He laughed. It was clear she didn’t understand his sarcasm. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean I have been in battle with them a few times and they are awfully tough bastards, if you ask me.” He pointed to an old scar. “I got this one courtesy of one of your people. He had been drinking in a bar on a little world that my unit was watching for space pirates. As it turned out, he was the pirate we were looking for. He was not excited about being arrested and left me with this scar for my trouble.”
She squealed like a schoolgirl at a pop star, which surprised him. “You did battle with Eli, and lived to tell about it. You truly are a great warrior!”
“I’m glad you are impressed.” St. Claire said, as he washed the shampoo from his hair.
“Yes! I’m extremely impressed with you Dominic St. Claire!” she said, as she picked up a sponge and started to sponge his back.
She put her arms around him and pulled him close. “I misjudged you. Please let me make it up to you.” She turned him around and planted her lips on his.
