Blaze Of Glory Part 8

"No, Lieutenant, it's merely good advice," he said. "And if you're smart, you'll take it."

"I hate to interrupt," La Forge said, "but we've got company."

They were almost at the end of the alleyway, not quite to the Flying Dutchman, and three figures had suddenly stepped out of the shadows. Their att.i.tude as they stood in the center of the alley to block their way was unmistakable.

"There's three more coming up behind us," La Forge said.

Riker glanced over his shoulder.

"That d.a.m.n shooter set us up!" said Dorn.

The three in front of them were human. Riker couldn't tell about the ones who had stopped a short distance behind them, cutting off their retreat. The one standing in the center of the group before them spoke.

"We can do this easy, or we can do it hard," he said. He pulled out a double-bladed spring knife and six inches of gleaming nysteel snicked out at each end. "How do you want to play it, mate?"

"I'll see you and raise," said Riker, drawing his bowie with its twelve-inch blade.

The man's eyes grew wide at the sight of the huge knife, and he also saw La Forge pull out his stunner. Dorn had slipped on her alloy knucks and she also pulled a whip baton out from beneath her vest. She pressed the control stud and the flexible alloy whip sprang out to its full length of two and a half feet. It was standard issue to security personnel, and Riker hadn't known she'd brought it with her, but now was not the time to worry about that. The other two men had also pulled out knives, and Riker heard movement behind him, as well. He sincerely hoped that none of them had phasers or projectile weapons.

La Forge quickly turned to face the ones behind them. Riker faced the men in front, and Dorn stood slightly sideways, so she could quickly go either way. Suddenly, the men they were facing didn't look so sure of themselves.

"There's only three of you and six of us," said the one who had spoken before. "What do you think your odds are?"

"Oh, about even, I'd say," said another voice, and two of the men behind the landing party grunted and stiffened as Katana came up and injected them from behind. As the two men collapsed to the street, the third one turned quickly, but the cybrid grabbed him by the throat with her robotic hand and effortlessly snapped his neck before he could even make a sound. The remaining three men bolted, apparently not caring for the sudden change in odds.

Dorn turned toward the cybrid, holding her whip baton ready. Riker put his hand on her upper arm and squeezed gently. At the same time, he sheathed his bowie. "Thanks," he said. "I owe you one."

"You owe me three," the cybrid replied, glancing down at the bodies at her feet. "I saw them from across the street, going down the alley after you. I just didn't want you thinking that I'd set you up."

La Forge glanced down at the three bodies lying on the ground. "What did you give those two?" he asked, referring to the men she had injected.

The cybrid shrugged. "A mixed c.o.c.ktail," she replied, with a smile. "And I don't water down my drinks."

"I guess not," said La Forge, uneasily.

"That was fast work," Riker said. "I'm impressed."

"So am I," Katana replied. "I waited to see what you would do. You three don't back down, do you?"

"I never got into the habit," Riker said. "Besides, we haven't got much money, and it's got to last us till we find another s.h.i.+p. I have a feeling this place could get expensive."

"Well, in that case, why don't you let me buy you a round?"

"Thanks, but you've already done more than enough," said Riker.

"Forget it. Like I said, I didn't want you to think I was involved in this. The Zone's not all that large, and I've got a reputation to protect. Come on, hotshot, I'll buy you that drink." She reached out to take his arm. Involuntarily, Riker pulled back. She fixed him with a gaze from those unsettling, crystal clear bionic optics. "Don't worry, lover. I won't sting."

"Yeah. That's what the scorpion said to the frog," said Riker.

"How's that?"

"It's from an old folktale. Forget it." Riker allowed her to take his arm. "Sorry," he said. "Nothing personal. It's just that I've never met anyone like you before."

"There isn't anyone like me," she said, then added softly, "not anymore." She glanced at the weapon still in Dorn's hand. "That's a Starfleet security baton," she said.

"Yeah," said Dom. "I took it off one in a fight on Abraxis IV. Kept it ever since. It comes in real handy sometimes."

"Abraxis IV, eh?" said Katana, as they walked toward the bar. "I hear that's a pretty rough port."

"I've seen rougher," Dorn replied.

"Well, sister, they don't get much rougher than this," the cybrid said. As if to punctuate her words, as they approached the bar, the door was thrown open and a body flew out into the alley. The s.p.a.cer landed in a heap on the ground and lay them, moaning. Katana merely stepped over him without giving him a second glance. Riker and the others followed.

From the outside, the Flying Dutchman was marked only by a carved wooden sign hanging over an unpainted steel doorway, illuminated by a small light above the doorframe and displaying the bar's name along with a crude representation of an ancient sailing vessel. Nothing more. No digitronic displays, not even any windows. It was the sort of place that one would have to look for, located as it was at the back of an alleyway, isolated from the glittering main strip of the Zone. But inside, it was another story.

Riker had expected a dark and grim-looking saloon, with men hunched over their drinks at the bar and pa.s.sed out at corner tables. Instead, as they came in, they were a.s.saulted by flas.h.i.+ng lights and the throbbing sounds of loud music played by a live band on a stage protected by a shatterproof polymer s.h.i.+eld. The reason for the s.h.i.+eld became apparent almost immediately, as a bottle sailed toward the stage, aimed at one of the musicians. The synth player did not even react as the bottle smashed harmlessly on the protective s.h.i.+eld, splattering it with foam and amber-colored liquid. There were several raised stages placed around the room, on which both human and K'tralli females danced, stripping provocatively for the customers seated around them. There were several dancers on the bar, as well. No s.h.i.+elds separated them from the patrons, and contact between the dancers and the customers was apparently allowed-for the price of a tip, the size of which seemed to determine the degree of contact. However, as they came in and made their way between the tables, one of the patrons got a bit too friendly for a dancer's taste. She began to struggle, and immediately two very large men descended on the rowdy customer, seized him, and smashed his head against the stage ap.r.o.n. He collapsed, bleeding and unconscious, and the other customers at the stage immediately began to tip the dancer generously.

"Want a table with a view?" Katana asked, raising her voice so Riker could hear her.

"I'd rather have one away from all the noise," he said loudly, in reply.

"Right this way," she said, heading toward the back, where there were private booths enclosed on three sides by dividers, forming small alcoves. The dividers were apparently accoustic m.u.f.flers, for the noise decreased enough for them to talk when they sat down.

"So, what do you think?" Katana asked. "Straight-ahead, no-nonsense s.p.a.cer's bar. No tricks, no gimmicks, no holos, just good booze, good food, and honest entertainment."

"You call that entertainment?" Lieutenant Dorn asked, looking with distaste at the gyrating strippers.

"Honey, if that's not your style, say the word and I'll get you some nice beef for a private table dance."

"I think I'll pa.s.s," said Dorn, sourly. "And don't call me 'honey.'"

"Suit yourself. What's your pleasure, hotshot?" she said, turning to Riker.

"You're buying," he said. "I'm not too particular."

"Is that right? You could have fooled me," Katana said, with a wolfish grin. She signaled a server. A young K'tralli woman wearing not much more than the dancers came up to their table.

"Hey, Shooter," she said. "What's up?"

"A pitcher of bahari, S'bele, and four chilled mugs."

"Coming right up." S'bele's gaze slid over Riker appreciatively and she smiled suggestively before she left.

"I think she likes you," said Katana, nudging Riker. "If she's more your style, it could be arranged."

"No, thanks," said Riker. "That isn't what I'm after."

"Really?" said Katana. "Wrong gender?"

"Right gender, wrong priority," said Riker.

"Yeah? So what are you after?"

"A s.h.i.+p," said Riker. "For me and my crewmates."

"No listings at the union?"

"There are listings, all right," said Riker, "just not for us."

"Uh-huh. I think I'm beginning to get the picture," said Katana. "What'd you do, hotshot? Pull a bad efficiency report?"

"Something like that," said Riker. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Now, is that any way to talk, when I'm the one who's buying?" she asked.

"You're right," said Riker. "I'm sorry. Guess I'm just a little edgy. No offense."

"None taken." She glanced around at them. "All three of you get grounded from the same s.h.i.+p, huh? You facing charges?"

"No," said Riker. He grimaced. "Too much bureaucracy involved. Our captain didn't want to be delayed."

"So he just grounded you and screwed you with his evaluation report, right?"

"You seem to know a lot about it, for a hooker," Dorn said.

Katana turned her bionic optics toward her. The gaze was expressionless and impossible to read, but it was very direct. Dorn did not flinch from it. "I know about a lot of things," Katana said. "It comes with the territory. It's just possible that you might even benefit from some of what I know, if you backed off some on your att.i.tude." She turned toward La Forge. "You don't say very much, do you?"

Geordi shrugged. "I do, when I've got something to say."

Katana nodded with approval. "Smart." She turned to Dorn. "You could take a lesson from your mate, here." She turned back to La Forge. "That's a VISOR, isn't it?"

"That's right," La Forge said. "I was born blind."

Katana nodded. "Company I used to work for patented some of that microcircuitry. What's your rating?"

"Chief engineer," said Geordi.

"Really? And your captain grounded you? Good engineers are hard to come by. What the h.e.l.l did you do, try to start a mutiny?"

"You know, you ask a lot of questions, but you don't volunteer much," Riker said.

"No, I just killed three rollers for you, hotshot," she replied. "I figure that ent.i.tles me to a few answers. What do you think?"

"Point taken," Riker replied. "What do you want to know?"

"How about your names, for starters?"

"Bill Stryker, formerly executive officer of the Federation merchant s.h.i.+p Phoenix. And my crewmates, George LaBeau-" Geordi nodded at her. "-and Angie Thorn, supply officer and med rating."

"With qualifications like that, you must have really stepped over the line to get grounded," said Katana. "So give. What did you do?"

"We got caught diverting cargo," Riker said.

"Diverting, huh? I guess that's one way of putting it," the cybrid replied, with a grin. "Let me guess. You were exec, and with Thorn here a warrant rating, that put you in position to alter cargo manifests and fake damage reports, right?" She glanced at La Forge. "And as chief engineer, you were in an ideal position to stash the hijacked cargo in the tubes until you could make port and arrange to transport it to some buyer. Was it something like that?"

"It was exactly like that," said Geordi. "How the h.e.l.l did you know?"

Katana grinned. "I've been around, LaBeau. I didn't always work the Zone, you know. I've crewed some. It sounds like a pretty good scam to me. How'd you get caught?"

"Submitting too many insurance claims for damaged cargo," Riker said. "Someone got suspicious and planted a tracking device in one of the s.h.i.+pments."

"And cargo that was supposedly damaged or destroyed turned up somewhere it wasn't supposed to be," Katana said. She nodded. "That's where scams like that usually go wrong. People get too greedy. Not that there's anything wrong with being greedy," she added, quickly. "It's just that you have to know when you can get away with it."

"If you're such an expert, then how come you're working the streets of a liberty port?" asked Dorn.

Katana fixed her once again with that implacable, crystalline gaze. "Because I choose to, honey," she said, stressing the word purposely. "Good times aren't all I sell. I deal in information, too. Besides, I'm not the one who's grounded and stranded in K'trin, am I?"

"Take it easy," Riker said. "She's just a little tense, that's all."

"No, it's not all," Katana said, flatly. "You don't like me, do you, Thorn? You think I'm some kind of freak, don't you?"

"I didn't say that," Dorn replied, curtly. "You did."

"I said, take it easy," Riker interjected sharply. "Both of you. This isn't going to get us anywhere." He turned to Katana. "Look, you seem to know your way around here. And you said you deal in information. We don't have a lot of money, but we'd be willing to pay for a connection that would get us a s.h.i.+p off-planet."

"Yeah? And then what?" asked Katana. "With what you three pulled, any captain that would sign you on would either have to be desperate or crooked. If he's desperate, then you're history as soon as he can find replacements for you in another port, and then you're right back where you started. If he's crooked, he'd have to have his head examined to sign you on, because with your records on file, it would be like a red flag on whatever operation he's running. Face it, Stryker, you three just scammed yourselves right out of the Merchant s.p.a.cefleet."

"So what you're saying is there's nothing you can do to help?" said Riker.

"Are you listening to me, Stryker?" she replied. "Wake up and smell the coffee, hotshot. It's over. You three have flushed your careers right down the tubes. About the only chance you've got is to sign on with some rustbucket freighter skippered by an independent who can barely make ends meet, hauling toxic waste or something no one else will touch. You'll wind up on a route so far removed from merchant s.p.a.ce lanes that the only liberty port you'll ever see will be some dome planted on an asteroid. Face it, you gambled and you lost."

"Don't hold back," said Riker. "Tell me what you really think."

She smiled. "I'm just giving you it to you straight, hotshot. But who knows, maybe it's not the end of the world."

"What do you mean?"

The cybrid shrugged. "h.e.l.l, this is the frontier. Look around. This is a wide-open Zone. There's a lot of opportunities here for people who know how to take advantage of them."

"You mean like those rollers who just tried to jump us?" Riker said. He snorted with derision. "That's not exactly my idea of a growth career."

"h.e.l.l, I wasn't talking about anything like that," Katana said. "That's strictly small-time. With your qualifications, I think you could do better."

"If you've got something in mind, I'm listening," said Riker.

The server brought their drinks, rewarded Riker with another sultry smile, and left.

"Drink up," Katana said, getting to her feet. "Let me go make a few inquiries."