[My cat] Nameless and I have an agreement: I leave her alone and don't make sudden moves when I wake up to find her perched on my chest, staring with an unblinking hostile gaze at my face and in return she rarely mutilates me.
James Nicoll
"What's going on here?" a voice said from behind me. It appeared that Hotel security was faster than advertised.
"My friend and I were just having a little chat," I said calmly, still not moving. It was essential to the situation that no one got excited.
I felt something touch my leg and looked down to see Darwin take his post beside me. The physical sensation of his presence sent calming chemicals through my brain, but to no avail. I was already stone cold.
"It looks like your little chat got heated. No unauthorized weapons on the station, you know that. Where did you get the gun?"
Still no one moved. Were they waiting for someone?
"It's not mine, it's hers," I said.
Baleful eyes glared at me through the mask.
"Hers? Oh, yeah. Got a permit, lady?"
Mr. Jones started to reached down with her left hand which elicited a growl from Darwin. She froze, the release of her right hand starting the blood flowing again.
"I am on a v..." she started to say.
"Damn, she's hurt, get a med-kit right away!" the security guard interrupted.
"It's all right. I got this." A new voice, a familiar one. "OK, everyone back to your drinks, everything here is under control. Anthony!" This last was called out loudly.
"Yes boss?" came the distant reply.
"A fresh drink for everyone is section C. On the house."
"Yes boss!" a cheer went up from the crowd, as easily distracted by the bread as by the circus. The sound of over a dozen weapons being reholstered accompanied the general shuffle of moving bodies. It would seem that this was a very nervous place.
"Chantier," the man in charge continued, "process and clean up the scene and bring me the weapon. I will be in meeting room..."
"C15 is open sir," another voice offered.
"C15 will do. Meanwhile, where is that med kit. Keep me covered, Slovok. I like this job and want to keep it. Thanks."
"Yes, sir." Another voice said with undisguised amusement.
Carrying a med kit under his arm, Fred came into my view and headed towards Mr. Jones. This would take some explaining.
"Hey, Josh." He winked at me. "Right, you, let's see that hand. And don't try to be clever, these guys are very eager to please the new boss. Isn't that right?"
"Yes, sir!" came a surprising large number of replies.
Bobak knelt down to inspect the gloved hand.
"Well this is going to have to come off," he said matter of factly, "the glove, not the hand. Can't very well dress the wound through the glove. This is going to hurt like hell, or at least I hope it will."
For her part, Mr. Jones was silent. As Fred gently peeled the glove away, she drew a sharp intake of breath and her eyes watering from the pain. Still she didn't say anything. The wound was worse that it appeared, though the glove probably saved her hand.
The crowd behind me thinned out, though I could still sense several people standing with their weapons drawn and trained on all three of us. I was really hoping that Darwin was aware of the consequences that any continued vengeance would have.
I stayed motionless, waiting for the next move. Darwin had settled into a half resting pose and was actually starting to purr. The little savage was happiest after he had attacked something, and he had gotten the opportunity to play twice in two days. The feel of his soft rumbling against my calf generated another wave of calming chemicals. Cats are fully aware that they have this effect on humans and use this skill strategically. It was working.
The cold hard light of my vision was softening at the edges and I unconsciously relaxed my shoulders. It was alright, we would figure this out together.
Bobak completed his wrapping of the hand. He was not an expert, but clearly he had done this before. He stood and looked over the scene then back a the remaining crowd.
"Right, Slovok, you're with me. Bring another. Chantier you have the scene. The rest of you, heightened vigilance. There is a very good chance that some of this energy is going to spill over to an eager opportunist who will think our guard is down now. Don't let him be right. Back to your posts." The guards started to disperse.
"And for god's sake, be safe!" he finished.
"Yes, mother!" came the chuckling reply from several guards. Bobak smiled then turned back to us, his smile dropping as he looked us over. "Slovok, take the van, Martins you have the rear."
"Yes, sir!" they replied crisply in unison.
Slovok slunk into position, his military training coming through. Martins was equally vigilant as she took her position behind us.
"After you," he said to us. "Just follow Slovok." He was also holding a weapon, trained on the three of us.
We walked slowly around the circumference of the lobby, drawing surprisingly little attention. A game was on the many vid screens placed around the lobby restaurants and the patrons were engaged. We were no longer their problem, and thus not worthy of their attention.
We entered room C15. It had a large table in the center, with chairs and panels scattered about. Slovak quickly scanned the room and nodded to Bobak. The two guards took positions outside the door, closing it behind them.
Bobak stood by the main console and punched in the code to start the omni-cam. "Don't want anyone to think we have anything to hide."
He indicated that we should take seats around the table. Mr. Jones moved to the far side of the table, while Bobak stayed near the door. I sat myself across from Mr. Jones, and Darwin took up his defensive position on my lap.
"Nice cat." Bobak commented. "Seems a little feral. Is this something I should know about?"
"Darwin is my partner. He was acting in our best interest. Saved our lives, actually."
Bobak seemed to miss the implication of my statement, but went on. He directed his next comment to the cat on my lap.
"Welcome to Paradise."
Darwin, having already made himself at home on the station, choose to ignore the greeting. Instead he kept his face trained on Mr. Jones. For her part, she did everything she could to avoid looking at him. This was the second time he had attacked her, and both times were justified.
Bobak chuckled and looking at Mr. Jones said, "Let's see who we have here. Do you mind taking your mask off?" It wasn't a request.
"You don't know already, Finder?" she sneered. Still Bobak missed the cue.
She was angry. I had no idea why, but she was furious with us. Around her I could see dark streams of intent and causality moving her inexorably forward. I didn't think that any of this was going to end well for her.
She peeled her mask down with her left hand and stared hard at Bobak. He blinked for a moment then smiled his irrepressible smile.
"Hey boss! Fancy meeting you here!"
Turning to me he said, "This is the woman who hired me to find the missing person."
I raised an eyebrow, urging him to explain.
He coughed, "Oh, right. That story about being stuck here was true, it just happened several months ago. In the meantime, I got offered the job of Lobby security chief. It pays ok, and soon I will be able to get Anna up here. This one," he jerked a thumb at Mr. Jones, "called a few days ago and offered me a cushy moonlighting gig."
"By the way," he said turning to Mr. Jones, "she's not here. I know everyone on this Station, most by name. Leena is not here."
Mr. Jones returned a tight smile. I could tell that she knew something. That troubled me, and I filed it for later reference.
"Now onto to the matter on hand," Bobak continued. "Why are you taking potshots at my old friend here. I take that kind of thing very personally."
There was that smile again. Something was definitely up with her. There was much more going on here that a personal grudge or payback for her past embarrassment.
"I am not saying anything else. I have a Vendetta Permit." Her smile broadened. She had the ace and had just played it. She slowly reached into her vest with her left hand, her right hand raised in the universal sign of 'don't shoot me.'
Bobak's surprise registered clearly on his face but didn't change the fact that he reached for his gun. Before he had a chance to pull it out of it's holster, she had tossed a folded blood red document onto the table. A Vendetta Permit.
Bobak reached for it, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. Chantier walked in and leaned down to whisper in Bobak's ear, placing the gun, now bagged, on the table in front of him.
I reached for the Permit, opened and read it. Still on my lap, Darwin appeared to peruse the document as well. Damn me, I really think he might have been able to read. I looked at him and smiled. Things were clearing up.
"Are you sure? Two?" Bobak was saying. Chantier pointed to the gun, still whispering. "No, I believe you. I just don't..."
Her turned to Mr. Jones. "Why two shots? Even with a Permit, you know you are allowed a single shot."
"Fred," I interrupted, "you may want to read this." I tossed the Permit to him. He reached for it while his eyes were still on Mr. Jones. He nudged Chantier, who drew his weapon and leveled it a her.
Freed of his watch, Bobak read the document. The color on face drained. He continued to read. The blood returned to his face with a vengeance.
"WHAT THE HELL? Aleksander?" He leapt out of his chair and headed for the com, dialing furiously.
The face of a very fat, completely hairless man filled the screen. "Magner Aleksander," he answered automatically, without looking up from something he was reading.
"Hey captain," Bobak said casually. Aleksander's head snapped up and a wan smile spread across his face as sweat beaded across his forehead.
"Bobak!" he said, unable to mask the surprise in his voice.
"Would you mind very much telling me why you signed a Vendetta Permit with MY NAME ON IT? Get down here now!"
"But Bobak," he whined, "you know the gravity..."
"NOW!" Bobak yelled and cut the circuit.
"Um, Fred..." I said quietly.
"WHAT?" he spun on me. "Sorry Josh. What is it?"
"You'd better collect Markham and Joy. Their names are on the Permit as well." I turned to Mr. Jones. "It seems that hunting season is open."