"They've got mixes and syrups to make hundreds of drinks. There's even some special reserve stuff. Want to try a bunch with me? C'mon it'll be fun."
Traveller looked to Carnie, a look of pure uncertainty on his face. "Got something better to do?" Carnie asked him with a shrug. "It'll be fun."
"Oh, you'll be doing it too?" Traveller asked.
"Yeah, why not. I'll have to break off if Alice gets back to me, though."
"Yeah, cool, let's get the first round," Pixie said, squirming out of the booth, taking Traveller's hand.
"Carnie!" called Rayman from the door. He was furious.
The sound of someone looking to pick a fight was familiar to him. He sighed, mentally wishing Theodore was there, then slipped out from the booth. "Yes, Sir, Rayman, Sir!" he called back.
"You screwed me over so hard that they ended my turn in command early and put a black mark on my record," Rayman said, closing the distance between them in long strides. He was a little shorter but definitely spent more time in fitness training.
"Whoa, whoa," Traveller said, moving to step between them. "We're officers here."
"Trainees," Rayman said. "So they kept reminding me in the review that just wrapped up. The one that was meant to decide what kind of black mark would be on my record."
Carnie looked to Traveller and shook his head. "We'll let him get this crap off his chest."
"Crap?" Rayman burst, pushing Carnie.
Carnie's suit countered most of the force and kept him balanced so he only had to take one step back. "Yeah, just get it out. What happened?" He asked, wishing he could start throwing punches at him. He was already annoying as one of the temporary commanders of Sabre Wing, seeing Rayman angry only multiplied it.
" I'm an Ensign in Training now and I'm on an advancement hold for three years starting when and if I become a real Ensign, which they say could take up to ten months. The worst thing is that the black mark will never go away. I'll retire an Ensign. They pinned the blame for waking up that android on me, said my decision to send you and that chick down started a series of events that could screw us all over."
"So, they gave you crap for making those decisions without consulting Command first," Carnie shrugged. "I saw that coming."
"Yeah, so did I," Pixie agreed.
"You should have listened to Pixie. She just finished her turn at command with high marks," Carnie said.
"Don't you get it? The blame came down on me because your girl Alice is one of the goddamned Queen's daughters. They wouldn't piss her off by putting the blame where it belongs: right on your shoulders."
Carnie looked Rayman in the eye, holding his anger back. The whole Pilot's Den was watching, dozens of pilots and crewmen, some of whom were from the permanent squadron aboard the Triton - Trident Wing. He did his best to keep his anger in check, but he was raging inside. "That's not how this fleet works, asshole."
"Oh, I'm an asshole now," Rayman said. "I must have hit a nerve. Our fleet is rife with nepotism, everyone here knows it. You're just clinging to the golden daughter so you can ride that up while you sneak a little bunk bumping in with this slut," he said, nodding at Pixie.
Pixie splashed her drink in his face and kicked him in the groin. His suit saved him from experiencing anything more than the drink. "Just because I won't sleep with you again doesn't mean I'm with anyone else!"
Rayman wiped his face, smiling even though there were "Ooh's" and a little applause at Pixie's reaction. "Yeah, whatever. You're nowhere near as bad as Princess Alice, though. I checked the scuttlebutt on her on the way here." He looked directly at Carnie, nearly grinning. "She's screwed the whole fleet over. She gave some terrorist weapons and he wiped out a whole planet, telling everyone that she made it possible. Either she's about to get knocked off that pedestal, or our Fleet's just another sucker-job, run by a bunch of wannabe heroes who let the power get to their heads. I bet those crooked bastards will promote her, even though she killed thousands of innocent people. She's no better than the Order."
The whole bar erupted, most of the place wanted to tear Rayman apart, so Carnie did the only thing he could think of. The only thing he wanted to do, and deactivated his command and control unit along with his vacsuit. The garment stayed on, but it would no longer react to damage. "Hey!" there were still people getting out of their seats, one picking up a chair, so he filled his chest and whistled. "Don't worry, ladies and gentlemen! I'll make this right."
"Oh yeah? How are you gonna do that?" Rayman asked. He was still high on getting under people's skin, but Carnie could tell he was on the verge of running, a good choice, but one he was too stubborn to follow through on just yet.
"Turn your suit's safeties off, deactivate your com-con, and we'll have a good old fashioned, bare knuckle fight to settle this!" Carnie announced to the crowd more than proposing it to his opponent. It was the kind of thing that would sometimes happen aboard a ship during a long trip between worlds. He'd seen several fights growing up with the carnival convoy.
"Oh, hell no," Rayman said. "No, no, I'm in enough trouble already."
The crowd booed, and a Nafalli at the back boomed; "Fight him or I'll fight you!"
"You better get this on, Rayboy," Pixie said with a grin that looked a little malicious. "They'll tear you apart before security can get down here."
Rayman looked back to Carnie, stared for a moment uncertainly.
"All right, if he fights me, you all have to let him go without a scratch. Doesn't matter if I win or lose, you let him out and leave him alone after!" Carnie announced to the crowd, using the same loud voice he used to as a hawker when he was running a booth. "You good people will agree to that, right? I mean, it's that, or security comes down here and walks him home." He got the nods and vows of agreement he wanted from the crowd.
The black and silver striped Nafalli who called out before stood tall then. "Block the doors, clear the floor. I'll referee this." He stepped through the crowd as they followed his instructions and he grabbed Rayman's wrist. "You turn the com-con off, the suit off."
Rayman stared up at him, absolutely agog.
Carnie looked at him while he was frozen to the spot. He was willing to take whatever punishment Fleet had as long as he was allowed to punish Rayman first. "There's a lot I can do for the Fleet as a civilian," he whispered under his breath. The Nafalli heard him, he was probably the only one, and he looked at Carnie in shock. Louder, so everyone could hear, Carnie addressed Rayman. "I knew it. I call you on your bullshit and you turn tail and run. You want to run, coward? I'll make sure they let you go, but everyone will know you backed down. Everyone will know how worthless you are, Damon."
"Screw you, Noah," Rayman replied, deactivating the safety features in his vacsuit, then unclasping his command and control bracers. "You want a fight? You're on."
"We have a fight!" the Nafalli cried, holding Rayman's bracers up.
Twenty-Nine
Knuckles and Regrets
* * *
A few people who supported Rayman joined him at one side of the circle, and Carnie watched as there was shoulder patting and words of encouragement on his side. That Nafalli, the one with the black and silver striped fur, had eager eyes as he settled in the middle of the circle. "Hey, you could settle this with a simulated fighter duel, everyone would be able to see it," Traveller told him.
"Screw that! Kick his ass!" Pixie said.
"It's how most beefs are solved here," Traveller retorted. "No disciplinary action, no trips to medical. Look at that guy; Rayman's got about eight kilos on you, maybe ten. He doesn't look it, but he's bigger than you, a lot bigger."
Both the fistfights Carnie got into when he was a teen ended with him on the deck. The first, against Tommy Ganen, should have ended when Noah punched the kid in the throat, but his buddies jumped in and dragged him down so they could kick him until a few older crewmen jumped in and stopped it. The second, against a customer who tried to rob him, had Noah give a good showing, but the guy got
his knife out first and after fighting over it for a minute, they were both bleeding. Noah was left with a big gash in his gut and the other guy had a sliced arm.
There were other fights, the ones that really mattered, but they all involved guns, they didn't count on a bare-knuckle situation. Noah looked around at the crowd. There were over thirty pilots and other crewmembers surrounding them. Damon stoked them just right. He cast himself as the villain in the makeshift ring, and the majority of the people there wanted to see him bleed. Noah was the one they were depending on to make that happen, and it was true; he wanted to teach Damon a lesson, he couldn't remember being so irritated at anyone. Someone massaged his shoulders, and a couple crewmembers were giving Damon a pep-talk, buying enough time for Noah's nerves to start getting a little shaky.
"Is he really stupid enough to…" Noah started asking Pixie, then a different thought occurred to him.
"Yeah, he's pretty stupid," Pixie said.
"No, he isn't," Noah said, picking up his thought from the moment before. "I saw his file when it was his turn to command our squad. He's anything but. He knows this will only make things worse for him, and that we were about to be let off the hook for what we did on that moon."
"What you did," Pixie corrected.
"Yeah, sure. But if he drags me into a fight, then I get a black mark on my record," Noah finished. "He drags me down with him." Disappointment and anger made him grit his teeth. "He came here to rile me up so I'd do something stupid, and here I am, doing something stupid. I'd leave if this crowd didn't want to see us fight so bad. They'll turn if I walk now."
"So, take it virtual," Hal said. "I'm right, you know I'm right. Tear his head off in some martial arts ring, invite everyone to watch."
"You're always right, buddy," Noah said. "It'll feel just as good to beat the crap out of him in a sim."
"And you won't be docked luxury pay or kicked out of the training program," Hal said, his mood lightening.
"It's not the same!" Pixie protested.
"It could be, we'll use an exact copy of this place and put the fight in the middle of the room in hologram while we fight in the sim." Noah was relieved at the prospect of having the fight, even with the pain inducers turned all the way up, and not getting in trouble for it. If they got it going quickly even the patrons would be all right with it, most of them, at least.
"Are we gonna do this?" Damon asked, stepping up to the middle of the circle.
"Listen," Noah said, stepping towards the Nafalli who divided them. "Let's do this in a sim. We'll broadcast the holo-images of us fighting it out right here so everyone can watch life-sized, and we'll turn the reality settings all the way up."
His announcement was met with more boo's than cheers, for sure, but he stuck to the idea. It might not be what he imagined Jacob Valent would do, but the decision was one that he expected Alice would respect.
The great big Nafalli looked disappointed, but nodded after a moment. "We'll turn the gore up, too, make it really interesting, maybe allow weapons of opportunity. It'll be one bloody fight!" he shouted, almost as good as a ringmaster.
The crowd was starting to warm up to the idea. "I'm setting it up now," Hal said as he rapidly worked on his com-con. "It'll be just a couple minutes, there's already a profile for doing this kinda thing in the Pilot's Den."
Noah still didn't like the look of the crowd. He didn't know more than a few of them, and most of them he knew in passing, but he knew one thing that would calm them down. He had enough luxury credits to make it happen, too. "All right, a round on me while you wait!" he announced. That turned most of them to his side.
"Hey, Noah," Damon said.
"Yeah?" Noah answered, turning just in time to catch a fist squarely on the nose. White light filled his vision for an instant, and his ears began to ring as he staggered back. It felt like Damon's fist not only crushed his nose but somehow hit him in both eyes at the same time. Blood flowed from his nostrils, he could taste it, feel it flow, wet and warm down the lower half of his face.
"Whoa! Whoa!" Hal called out.
"You son of a bitch!" Pixie screeched.
The crowd booed and cheered, but mostly cheered. They wanted to see a fight, a spectacle, and they thought it was starting. As Noah felt a hand on his shoulder, probably Hal's, he had a feeling it was already over. His eyes were filled with tears practically blinding him, and pain like he never felt pulsed through his nose and eyes every time he breathed or moved. There was so much blood filling his nose and throat that he had to breathe through his mouth.
The wind was knocked out of him as another blow landed in his stomach. A spray of blood issued forth, it was all from his nose as far as he could tell. Anger and adrenaline put Noah firmly on his feet as he swung back. He hit something, it felt like Damon's shoulder, maybe? He wiped his eyes, fending his opponent off with one hand. He had to buy some time, his vision was clearing, and no one was stepping in directly, not even that Nafalli prick. "Let's do this!" Noah roared. It was all bravado and no substance. Really, he would have been pretty happy if someone would drag him off so he could pretend that he actually really wanted to fight.
Despite the crowd of pilots, or even Hal who was behind him somewhere, no one stepped in, so he was alone for the moment. His vision mostly cleared in time to see a fist come at him from his left, it was a knock-out punch, and he barely got his arm up in time to awkwardly catch most of the blow with his wrist. A foot caught him behind the knee, and Noah tried to stay upright but failed as Damon brought his heel down on his hip.
A lightning shot of pain ran up his leg as his knee struck the deck hard. He'd faced bullies before. Tommy was only the first. The others were from a military organization, a gang, and a couple just wanted whatever he had. Nothing made him want to push on and fight harder than a bully. When Damon tried to knee him in the face, Noah mostly dodged it then wrapped his arms around his leg. The asshole tried to yank it free, then punched him in the top of the head a couple times, probably just an instinctive reaction since it didn't break his grip. Normally that wouldn't hurt so much, but every time Damon's fist came down on the top of his head it jarred Noah's nose, and his eyes were filled with involuntary tears, he could barely see a thing between that and the blood that somehow got up into his eyes from his nose.
Noah had never been angrier, and the thought of what he was about to do gave him the desire to press on and try to turn the tables. His ears were still ringing as he swallowed blood, pushed another spray of it out through his aching nose so he could breathe. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he heard Damon ask.
Noah gripped Damon's leg harder with one arm and reached up with the other. With every ounce of his strength he grabbed Damon's crotch and squeezed then pulled. His opponent screamed, jerked his captured leg desperately as he punched down, his desperate blows doing nothing to free him from Noah's gripping arm and hand.
Carnie spat a mouthful of blood and took a breath, letting go of Damon's crotch, but only so he could loop his other leg and send him down to the deck. Before his opponent could recover, Carnie was on top of him, dropping his knee onto his stomach. The air left Damon, Carnie could hear it, and for a reason he would never be able to explain, he decided to take an opportunity to screw with his assailant's head. He felt his way up to Damon's face, pinned it down with one hand and screamed at him, letting the blood drip from his nose onto him.
"Let go! What the hell!" Damon protested, writhing as he tried to catch his breath. A fist caught Carnie in the side of the head.
Carnie shook his head, pain was constant but distant thanks to the adrenaline, and began to punch, aiming for the sweet spot just below the ribs. The first couple blows landed on Damon's chest or stomach, but then Carnie found his mark, revelling at the confirmation as he heard all the air rush out of his enemy again. "Breathe! Try to breathe!" Carnie laughed as he struck there over and over while he shifted so he could grind his knee between his opponent's legs.
A surprising fist surge
d up, striking Carnie in the jaw. Where Damon found the energy to hit him hard enough so he saw stars again, Carnie couldn't imagine. "Oh, hell no!" he shouted, his words punctuated by a red spray. "You wanted to do this for real, so let's give 'em a show!" That's when Carnie's punches moved from Damon's chest to his face, or rather, the deck behind his head. There was something about a punch that Noah was taught when he was young; don't aim for what you are trying to hit, try to hit what was behind it.
The sounds of wet breathing through gnashed teeth and the hard impact of fists on flesh and bone were all he could hear. The crowd was either gone or silent by the time Hal and someone else pulled Carnie off. The moment he found his feet he turned on them. Through the blur he could see that the black and silver striped Nafalli was there, standing beside Hal, who looked terrified. "Now you step in?" he howled. "Where the hell were you when that asshole sucker punched me? When he knocked me down? Cowards! If I ever have to fight beside either of you, I'll know I may as well be alone!"
"Uh, Noah?" Pixie asked from his right.
"You're just as bad," Noah growled at her.
Pixie offered him his command and control bracers. "Alice is calling you back, it's long range," she said quietly.
Before he could reply, the main doors squealed as they were forced in and a group of soldiers in black armour with a white stripe down the sides rushed into the room. "Fleet Security! Break this up, right now!"
"Tell her I'll be a minute," Noah said, feeling the adrenaline drain away and the pain rush in.
Thirty
Repercussions
* * *
The crew in medical spent so little time on Noah that it felt more like he walked through the department rather than got treatment. A spray of nanobots, anti-swelling and ani-scarring solution was pushed up his nostrils, he was scanned, then marched on to the brig. The itching, jarring feeling of the cartilage and tissues being mended while he walked to his cell were enough to make him wince. "Holy hell, what's going on up there?" he said to the amusement of the security officers as he resisted the urge to rub his nose.
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