Family Law 2: The Long Voyage of the Little Fleet (38 page)

"Hmm...I can see your point."

The bar was dark with lots of polished stone and deep green panels. There was lots of brass and mirrors and indirect lighting. It should have had the stately dignity of an English gentleman's club and somehow managed to miss it so far that it had more the mood of a fast food joint. The proportions of everything seemed
off
somehow and nothing looked particularly comfortable or inviting.

The host came quickly with a pink vest and a white apron that would have looked normal on any human shop keeper. He led them to a table, though he failed miserably at a nonchalant air. He stared at Bob wide eyed and tense, then spoke briefly with Dauntless as if he were alone.

Perhaps part of the reason for his anxiety was the single Biter sitting alone drinking. They were seated as far as possible from him and he stared at them as much as the host had, but far less friendly. In fact Bob could have easily characterized it as a glare even as unfamiliar he was with Biter expressions. He upended his mug, draining it in a hurry and deliberately slammed it back down on the table with a crack like a pistol shot. Then he marched out the door, his route not coming close to them, which was just fine with Bob.

"Nobody said anything about Biters on station," Dauntless said.

"Did you ask?"

"Uh, no. I assumed with their ship gone there would be none. I've never seen a Biter on station before without one of their ships docked. And I never really thought how odd that was until now."

"Maybe the suckers are too cheap to pay for a room," Bob speculated.

"Do you want to go back to the
Dart
?" Dauntless asked.

"Because we saw one Biter? That seems an over-reaction."

"These  lower life-forms, we have an expression..."

"Yes! There's never just
one
," Bob said.

"Exactly. Though we usually say it for a particular blood sucking vermin that infests sleeping pads."

"We have bed bugs, but we say that about cockroaches, a filthy insect that gets in where you prepare food and comes out at night. If you have them and you turn a light on in the night, they will all scurry for the cracks and crevices to hide."

Dauntless checked his pad, curious. "Ugh, much the same but I see yours are bigger."

"In the tropics the damn things get
huge
," Bob told him.

"I shall avoid your tropics."

"I think we should leave," Bob decided. "Nobody seems to be interested in taking our order. I'm starting to think we aren't as welcome here as I'd like. Perhaps they know something we don't."

"Alright, it does seem slow to the point of rudeness."

"Should I leave anything on the table? Do we owe them anything for just being seated?"

"Not at all," Dauntless said, getting up. "Let's go straight back to the
Dart.
I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this."

They didn't say anything to the host when they passed him and he didn't inquire why they were leaving. They exited the door and turned back towards the ship, there were four Biters ahead coming down the walk. There wasn't anyone else out on the street.

"The bar suddenly seems safer than out here," Bob decided.

"Oh yes, "Dauntless agreed. It was only a few steps back to the door. There were two more Biters coming from the other way. The door was locked.

Bob pulled his pistol. "I'm going to kill that damn host. Do you know where to shoot this miserable  thing to bust the lock?"

"I fear it would take a great deal more than that," Dauntless told him. "Best save your shots for the Biters."

"Throw out your weapons and we may let you live a bit longer," One of the Biters called to them using their pad to translate. It put out a surprising volume.

"Come and take them," Bob called back.

"Do you think this is a good time to deliberately annoy them?" Dauntless asked.

"I'm not surrendering to them. They can have my dead body if I don't kill them all first."

"That doesn't seem likely."

"Then
you
go surrender to them, but at least leave me your gun. I predict they will have you for supper tonight."

"They can't eat animals from the Badger world," Dauntless said, taking him literally. "We make them deathly sick, even the fish."

Dauntless drew his side arm. "The safety is off," he said pointing to a little lever, "you have thirty shots," he said, offering it grips first to Bob. He turned and took a deep breath and raised his hands before stepping out.

Bob was too angry to thank him, indeed the thought came briefly to him to shoot the coward.

There was a wild undisciplined fusillade. Dauntless staggered from three impacts and desperately threw himself back in the entry alcove with Bob, rolling flat on his back. He had a ragged tear through one ear, a nasty wound on one foot and three soft slugs flattened on the front of his vest. He sat up and looked down at them.

"Oh wow, it does stop them, but it still
hurts
."

"Watch the other direction, so the other two can't sneak up on us," Bob ordered, shoving the pistol back in his hands. Dauntless scooted over to the side from which the four were shooting and sat back against the wall. He eased close to the edge and took up a watch the other way. Bob leaned over him and slid just the edge of his pad past the corner to let the camera look down the street. The four Biters were standing in a loose group about twenty meters away, making no effort to use cover or even squat down to present a smaller target. Three of them however had their weapons pointed at the entryway, ready to fire if they saw a target. One was pointing his at the deck like it was too much effort to hold up.

"There is going to be a loud noise," Bob warned. "Don't shoot from flinching. You might consider taking your finger off the trigger even," he suggested. He reached in his fanny pack and withdrew a green sphere about the size of a baseball. Holstering his pistol he checked with his pad again. All four Biters were standing pointing their guns now and inching forward cautiously with tiny steps.

Dauntless looked at him puzzled, wondering what he was doing.

Bob pulled the pin on the grenade, the spoon spinning off with a tinny noise as it hit the deck. "One hippopotamus, two hippopotamus," he repeated calmly and heaved it straight-armed around the corner blind. They could hear it skittering across the pavement. When Bob covered his ears with both hands Dauntless looked alarmed, but he didn't have time to copy the gesture.

It was a street, but it was also an enclosed space with ceiling. The flash and concussion reflected off the overhead and opposite wall was stunning. It slapped them both, but Dauntless was much less prepared for it.

Bob stepped out of their shelter turned opposite the explosion. Weapon up and pointed down the street. Several businesses down one of the Biters leaned out of a doorway to see what happened. Bob  carefully put a single shot through his head. He went down the direction he was leaning and sprawled on the pavement out of cover. His partner leaned out and grabbed him by a leg to drag him back to safety. Bob put three in his torso with slow aimed shots. The fellow crumpled on top of his friend in a heap. He was facing away so that his head was not visible. Bob hesitated a second, then carefully put three more shots in the body even though there was no movement.

Dauntless was standing again when he turned, leaning on the corner to favor his wounded foot, mouth hanging open in shock. He looked back and forth at the two groups of Biters.

Bob walked past him to the four Biters he'd fragged. They were leaking a lot, dark burgundy blood from all the small holes in them. The facade facing the street was similarly pockmarked with tiny nicks and craters. A larger mark in the pavement had streaks radiating from it. One of the Biters had a leg doing a slow repetitious twitch. It was probably just some lingering reflex, not suffering. If he wasn't dead he would be soon with that many holes in him. Bob shot him through the head. He pulled a small radio out of his left pants pocket and spoke into it several times, clearly have a conversation back and forth with someone. Then he walked back to Dauntless.

"Bart and Mozart sealed the lock up and will be here soon. They'll carry you to the ship."

"I expect station security to be here soon. I doubt they'll allow me to go back to the
Dart
."

"They won't be given a choice. You are under my protection and I'm removing you. If I have to call the
Sharp Claws
in and disassemble the station panel by panel you are leaving with us."

There was a loud drumming sound and Bart appeared running down the center of the street. The powered armor allowed him to move as fast as the carts they'd seen, but it was noisy. Mozart was right behind and keeping up easily, but not nearly as loud.

"Bart hesitated at the pile of Biter bodies just long enough to see they weren't a threat before approaching Bob. "Are you wounded sir?" he asked first, concern written on his face.

"No, but Dauntless has a foot wound, so I need you to carry him to the ship. Careful with him. He took a few round on the vest so I imagine he's bruised under it and a round nipped his ear."

Just then a cart pulled up with six Bills, all wearing a form of reflective vest and carrying some sort of holstered weapons. They all piled out and assumed a semicircle around the foreigners. One started talking Trade with Dauntless and one with fancier insignia walked up to the biters and inspected them briefly before coming back. The one talking with Dauntless appeared to make a report to him.

"The Badger claims you were attacked," The fellow who appeared to be the leader said, using Dauntless' pad with the translator.

"No claim. Simple fact," Bob told him.

"That shall be determined. Why didn't you retreat to avoid a confrontation?" he asked.

"We tried actually. The owner of the bar locked us out so we couldn't go back in. We were trapped. Is it your law that one has to retreat when faced with an attack? Surely one has a right to self defense."

"You appear much more efficient than mere self defense. One wishes we had at least one of the other group alive to question."

"See this?" Bob asked, touching the small crystal bubble on his chest.

"Yes?"

"It's what we call a public eye, it records high resolution video continuously. I have a record of our actions since we left our ship at dock. Do you wish to view it?"

"Perhaps later. We'll take you into custody and put the matter before a judge to investigate and make a determination of fault."

"No. You Bills already have shown favoritism to the Biters. Nobody warned us there would be Biters on station after their ship left and the bar owner refused us shelter. You
knew
we already had trouble with them on several other occasions and all stayed silent. I simply don't trust your justice or your neutrality to surrender myself."

"We are six, if I have to use force to detain you I will," the cop said.

"See the two fellows wearing armor?" Bob asked.

"Is that what it is? I wondered. Yes I'm aware of them."

"I called them after we were attacked, they were not involved. I killed the Bills myself, after they wounded my companion, without help from the Badger. Not to make too much of a point about it...but there were
six
of them against just me. If you try to use force on me you six won't do any better."

Bob didn't know Bill's expressions very well yet, but he suspected this one looked very unhappy. He got wrinkles between his eyes above the back of his bill and took a wider stance on his legs.

"Threatening an officer is a crime itself," he informed Bob.

"Being stupid has a much quicker and permanent penalty," Bob explained. "Bart, Mozart, keep an eye out for Bill reinforcements. I'm
not
accepting a ride to jail for any of us."

"I'd like to speak with the bar keep," the officer told one of his subordinates after a thoughtful pause, the pad still translating for Bob.

The fellow went to the door and pressed a call pad beside the door. When there was no response he took a truncheon from his belt kit and rapped on the door loudly. "Police officers!" he said loud enough for the pad to pick it up a good four meters removed.

"Sergeant, call the business on com and direct them to come out and speak with us!" the leader instructed him. He seemed to be getting irritated.

"Mozart, open the door for the officer," Bob said.

Mozart grinned, happy to oblige. He walked over and tapped the door, cocking his head and

examining it. The Bill at the intercom took a couple steps back, nervously. Mozart leaned into it with a will and kicked the door right in the middle. It was stout and made of laminated metal, but Mozart weighed somewhere near seven hundred kilos and had shock pads and titanium soles in his space armor boots. It folded in slightly, acquiring enough of a cup on each side of his indented footprint to gap. The gap exposed a sturdy bolt holding it closed. Mozart pulled the ax from his waist, slipped the hook it featured in the crack over the bolt and lifted. With a shriek of tortured metal the entire locking mechanism tore out of the door and a ragged chunk of metal wall the size of a dinner plate come off attached to it.

Mozart inserted the head of the ax in the expanded gap and levered it again. The door opened a few centimeters, but so bent it was jammed on the hinges and dragging on the floor. He grasped the edge with his middle arms and walked it open all the way back flush against the wall, the bottom corner dragging a big gouge in the floor. He'd forced it past the stops on the hinges and when he let go of it he had to side step, because it fell flat on the deck with a crash. "Oops," Mozart said, then smiled and made a sweeping gesture with his true hand to the police officer, inviting him to enter the crooked opening.

They found the fellow with the pink vest and apron cowering behind the bar on the deck. The cop started off interrogating him in Trade, but lapsed into Bill quickly.

"He says he was sure there would be trouble when the Biter left and he locked us out because he was afraid," Dauntless said, disgusted.