by Becky Black
"I'm not trying to be funny. You should reconsider my offer."
Etta had offered an alliance, Jax's girls and hers. The ones she "protected." Though Jax almost laughed to think of them as girls. None of Jax's staff was over the age of twenty five, no; one turned twenty six last week. All young and lovely and healthy. Etta's were mostly women who'd had to leave the service for whatever reason and needed money. On drugs half of them. Hell, some of them had amputations. Jax was hardly a prude, but some things freaked her out.
"I don't need the protection of criminals," Jax said. Most of the lifers in the station were hard working and honest people, in her opinion, but some had found more nefarious ways of making money. Etta was one of them. A pimp and a gangster and Jax wanted no dealings with her. "I can take care of my girls."
Etta just looked around the smashed room. "If you say so."
"Get out of here, now. I don't need you."
"You may change your mind soon. One of your girls already did."
"What?"
"She came to me after last night. Wants to set up on her own with my protection. Seems she doesn't trust you to take care of her interests anymore." Jax could have attacked the hard-faced bitch there and then.
"You're poaching my girls? Which one? They can't just leave. That's desertion!"
Etta laughed. "Not any more it's not. When are you going to see that, Jax? Look at you; you're still wearing your insignia. What do you really think that means now?"
"It means discipline. It means not giving in to chaos."
"It means you're too blind to see everything has changed. You'll soon find out which girl, Major. And she won't be the last."
Etta gave the wrecked room a last look, then left, her feet crunching on granules of glass. Jax sighed and sank down onto a plump sofa, which had an armrest ripped off and the cushions burst open. A moment later one of the girls almost tiptoed into the room, carrying a cup of tea.
Jax took it with a weak smile and thanks, and thought about asking the girl which of her colleagues was missing this morning. But then decided that she didn't have the strength to have a scene about it right now.
"Should we go on clearing up, Major?"
"Take a break," Jax said. "Finish your tea." The girl nodded and hurried away, leaving her CO alone.
Jax rested her head back on the sofa and sighed. What the hell did she do now? She could just give in and hand control of the brothel over to Etta. Why the hell should she care? This was just a posting like any other. Why should she try to keep it running like this? Someone had to look out for the staff though. Jax didn't want them working for that gangster. She knew enough history about her profession to know how things were before it became official and regulated. Her girls didn't deserve to put up with that sort of crap.
"Major Jax?" A woman's voice that she didn't recognise made Jax open her eyes.
"Yes?" A starship officer stood in the doorway, in perfect uniform. A couple of burly marines flanked her, one carrying a leather coat.
"I'm Captain Bara. I thought we could have a talk."
Bara. Jax knew the name of course. The pirate. What the hell did she want here? Bara gestured behind herself and a couple more marines came in, carrying boxes and crates.
"What's this?" Jax asked, standing up.
"I recently salvaged some cargo from a wreck, far more than I can use for my crew. So I'm distributing some to the human population of this station. Anyone who's in need."
"Who said, I'm in need?" Jax demanded, bristling.
Bara looked around and Jax deflated. Fair point. Oh, what the hell?
"Okay, bring it in." The marines brought in the boxes, placed them in the middle of the room and took off the lids. Jax glanced inside. Food, coffee, tea. Well, that would save her some money for a week or two anyway.
"What happened here?" Bara asked.
Jax sighed and sat down, her knees feeling weak suddenly. She told Bara what happened, she told her why it happened. She told her everything. God, it just felt good to talk to someone who understood. Someone who still wore a proper uniform. Someone who maintained discipline.
Bara sat beside her and listened, making sympathetic noises, not speaking much, until Jax ran out of steam. As she finished speaking, one of the marines handed both women tea. Jax hadn't even seen him go into the back rooms.
"Thank you," Bara said, "Major, I see your problem. You've been left high and dry here. It's not only a question of the protection of the guards here on the premises, is it? It's the protection you used to enjoy as part of the military."
"That's exactly it!" She understood. Most people didn't.
"I want to help you," Bara said, "You are trying to do the best for your staff. As a fellow commander I fully understand that. If you agree to it, I will assign some men from my ship as guards here. But more importantly I will make it known that this establishment is under my protection. I won't be on the station all of the time, of course, but I will make it clear that anyone who causes you any inconvenience will answer to me when I return."
Jax stared for a moment. Why the hell would she do this? Because they were the same, perhaps, both hanging on to the last vestiges of discipline? Because they were fellow commanders and Jax was in distress? There'd be something else though. Everything had a price; nobody knew that better than Jax.
"What do you want in return, Captain?" Jax asked. She expected a frown, but Bara smiled.
"We understand each other I see, Major. Very well. All I really want is for your staff to go on doing the job they've always done. Gathering intelligence."
Jax raised her eyebrows, surprised. Ah this one knew more than most.
"Your staff hear everything that is going on, and perhaps more importantly what people are saying about it, feeling about it. I'd like to know all that."
"Why?"
"It's useful information."
A good answer, Jax thought. A sound reason, yet giving away nothing at all. Well, it seemed like a small price. She thought of Etta for a moment. Etta was a gangster and this woman a pirate. Was that worse? But who called her a pirate? The Big Four, the people that she fought against and took revenge on. Not exactly objective.
"My girls won't service your guards or your crew for free," Jax said.
"Of course not." Bara looked shocked at the idea.
"Then we have a deal."
~o~
Bara left the brothel and paused.
"Coat, please," she said. One of the marines stepped forward and held the coat as she slipped her arms into it.
"Time?"
"11:14, ma'am."
"Right. The others should be waiting in the bar."
She strode off and the guards followed her. Now she'd made the deal with the whorehouse, she had to secure the one with the bar. They were two of the best places on the station to gather information, and she wanted to make sure this information was channelled to her.
After a quick eyeballing session between her guards and the bouncers on the door, Bara found her people waiting in Dav's tavern. Officers at one table, crew people and marines at another. All of them were quiet and tense.
Loosen up, dammit. We're here for some R&R--or so everyone else was meant to think. One of her guards went to the bar while she sat down at the table with the officers. The tavern was about half full and rather quiet. Mostly humans, a few aliens, and for the humans it was still early, not even lunchtime yet. Some people wearing the station maintenance crew overalls sat at a corner table, the most mixed, species wise, of all the groups in the bar.
"How did it go, Captain?" Alex asked.
"Exactly as planned. I made a new friend." She laughed. He didn't. No damn sense of humour. Look at him, sitting there scowling, face like thunder. If he disapproves does he not have the balls to say so? She noticed that Sev, sitting beside Alex of course, rested his hand so it pressed against the side of the other man's hand. Did they have to keep on shoving it down her throat like that? What they got up to in private s
he didn't care about, but they didn't have to flaunt it.
Actually, she did care about it, private or not. Fraternising, that's what it was and she didn't approve of it, any more than the old captain had. They'd hadn't dared when he'd been around. Why did they dare now? Perhaps they thought she was weak? Perhaps she was. Not in herself, not personally, but her authority was weaker, because she stood alone. She couldn't have the pair of them transferred; she could only make her disapproval clear. They didn't seem to care.
Her drink arrived and she smiled her thanks at the marine, making him blush just a little. Sipping the drink, she looked at Sev again. Specifically, at his hair. When the hell was he going to get that cut? Everyone else maintained standards, but he had to be different. Always had been "different", the little freak. Now he thought he could do what he liked. He'd learn. If Alex wanted to stay her first officer and chief engineer then he'd have to cut his little freak boyfriend loose. Speaking of cutting.
"There's still a barber on this station. I hope you'll all find the time to visit before we leave again." Poisonous look in response from the freak. She could order him, and she'd look like a fool if he refused. What the hell would she even do if he refused? Shoot him for not getting his hair cut? That would make her look like an even bigger fool. But how long would she let it go on? Hah! How long would she let it grow on?
One of her officers was reading something, a printed sheet, no a few sheets, folded together.
"What's that?"
He handed it to her at once. "A sort of news sheet, Captain. One of the residents says it comes out every couple of days."
Bara looked at it intrigued, her worry over the threat to discipline that was Sev's hair temporarily forgotten. News stories, events on the station, events going on off the station, including, she smiled, events involving the Trebuchet and herself. Rumours and whispers about the damn Committee fleet.
She had begun to think that fleet might be nothing more than rumour. A fantasy dreamt up by desperate, scared people to give them hope. They needed a more solid foundation than rumour for that hope, in her opinion. Down on the lower levels last night, as her people gave out the goods she had brought to the station, she talked to people, and she heard a lot of fear, a lot of despair.
Time for that to change.
She glanced through the rest of the newspaper. After the first few pages it was mostly information, including opening times and prices for a clinic run by a Dr Sheni. Interesting. The rest was advertisements for shops, services and cafés.
"Here we go," Alex muttered softly and Bara's people tensed as several young men entered the bar.
They were a tough looking crew. Though they wore civilian clothes, Bara happened to know they were all ex-infantry, a team used to working together in the field. Today they had a little job to do for her. They'd already got some nice free goodies last night, care packages. And with them they'd been offered the chance to earn some cold hard cash. And all it would cost them was a night in the holding cells, if they couldn't run away fast enough when station security arrived. Finally arrived, she should say, and smirked.
She had a strong suspicion station security could be rather tied up right now.
Chapter 12
The group of young men made for a table where five Sylebine sat, drinking coffee.
"Hey, fur face," one of the humans said. "This is our table."
The Sylebine stared up at the scowling men. One said, "It is reserved? I'm sorry, we did not see."
Damn, Bara thought. Are the little blue bastards just going to move and give up the table without an argument?
"It's not reserved, bud," the group's spokesman leaned over the table, planting his big hands down, knocking over cups. "It's just ours."
"There are no others free," one of the aliens said, looking around. "But it is a large table and some chairs are free. Join us and I will buy you all drinks to make up for any inconvenience we have caused you."
Bara groaned. Of all the people to try to start a fight with, they had to pick on people who worshipped the concept of goodwill. But if a man is determined to start a fight, anybody can provoke him.
"Are you suggesting we can't pay for our own drinks?"
The Sylebine looked confused. "So," one said, "you want to buy us a drink?"
"Oh that's it. Stitch this, pal."
It only took seconds for the fight to spill from that table to the next and the next. Once people started knocking things over, all that tension Bara had felt down in the cheap accommodation spilled out. The rest of them didn't even need paying. They'd been waiting to hit someone.
Behind the bar, Dav and a barman started yelling. The bouncers ran in from outside. At the table where Bara's crew people and marines sat, the senior NCO glanced at her and she gave a small nod.
Go.
They all leapt up, the officers following a second later and joined the fray. But not to fight, not to escalate, rather to break it up, calm it down. They joined the bouncers, who had started to grab people and toss them outside. They forced other combatants back against the wall, making them stop fighting. As the noise started to diminish, as more people flew out of the door, Bara heard Dav yelling.
"Where the hell is station security?"
She grinned, then helped one of her marines lift a man, yelling, punching at nothing now, and heave him out of the door. Slowly, the last of the fights stopped, people either thrown out, or too exhausted to do more than slump down on the debris-strewn floor. In the sudden quiet, noise told her that fights were going on independently outside.
Remarkable, none of the ones fighting out there had been from the group she'd paid to start trouble. They'd just been waiting for someone to light the fuse. Dav leaned his elbows on the bar, head in his hands, groaning at the sight of his smashed up tavern. Bara looked around at the people. All humans. She'd seen to it that all of the aliens were among those thrown out. The humans looked scared, or angry. Now. Now was the moment.
A bench lay beside her, on its side. She righted it and stepped up onto it. You needed to be tall for a moment like this. She faced the room, the staring faces.
"Humans should have the right to relax here without fear of attack." Her voice, trained for command, filled the space. "Clearly you can't rely on station security to respond quickly enough to prevent injury and property damage." She looked at Dav as she said that last part, then back to the others. "Perhaps, my friends, they don't consider us humans much of a priority." Nods and murmurs now. Those started with her people, but spread quickly to the others. "So I am placing this establishment under my protection." Dav gaped at her, and she looked directly at him again. "I plan to return to Hollow Jimmy frequently. So, pass on the message. Anyone who causes trouble in here, I promise you, they will answer to me when I come back. Make sure everyone knows that."
She waited a moment. Let it sink in. She didn't even have to leave guards here, like she was going to at the whorehouse. Just the threat of her was enough. She spoke again to the room.
"If any of you need medical treatment for your injuries, you can come to my ship. My doctors will be happy to help you. In fact, any medical problems you might want to see them about, while my ship is still here, please, feel free any time, at no cost. Contact… the lieutenant here." She pointed at Sev. "He will arrange for your visit."
Let the freak be the tour guide to a hoard of freeloaders. That would keep him occupied and keep his hands off her first officer.
"Now." She looked around at their faces, eager for her next words. "My officers and I are going to help Mr Dav to tidy up in here. Please, feel free to help us."
They laughed and some at once started righting tables and chairs. A sound behind her made her look round. A Klaff in station security uniform stood in the doorway.
"Thank you, officer," Bara called. "But we've got it covered in here."
That got a cheer and it didn't even start from one of her people. A few catcalls were directed at the officer, who made a movement Bar
a guessed was a shrug and stomped off. Before the cheer died away, Bara stepped down from the bench, one of her bodyguards there at once, to give her his hand down.
"Thank you," she said. "Do help with the clearing up, while I speak to Mr Dav." She walked behind the bar, as if she owned it. Perhaps she did. She favoured Dav with a warm smile and offered him her hand.
"Thank you, Captain," Dav said, shaking her hand, an awed look on his face. "If you hadn't been here, my place could have been totally destroyed!"
"Oh, I'm sure station security would have got here eventually."
"Hah! Eventually is the word. I think you're right, they don't care much about us."
"I hope I wasn't being presumptuous, placing the bar under my protection like that," she said.
"Of course not! I'm delighted. I'll tell you what, if you and your crew people want to come back later on tonight, I'll give you the best dinner you've had in months! I've got a private room out back, you can use that."
"Oh, that would be nice. But we don't want to put you to any trouble. We were just doing our duty, maintaining order."
"I insist. Let me show you the back room, please." He led her through a locked door, into a rather dim, but richly furnished room. A round table sat in the middle, bare but for a playing card dealer and boxes of poker chips.
"Yeah," he said, gesturing at the table. "It's used mostly for private games. Invitation only. Consider yourself as having a permanent invitation to join any game, Captain."
"Thank you, Mr Dav. I do like to play a few hands now and again." The games on the Trebuchet were so dull. She always won. Either the others had forgotten how to play, or she had become much better.
"Will you come for dinner?" Dav asked, sounding eager to please his new patron. "Is the room to your liking?"
"Oh yes, indeed. Very much." It's just perfect. Quite perfect. "Now, can I ask you something, Mr Dav?" She took the Chronicle from her pocket, where she had folded it up and put it away as the fight started. Turning to the back page, she pointed at the small print at the bottom of the page. Contact details. "Can you tell me how to find this address?"
~o~
Jaff looked up from drinking his pre-shift cup of coffee, when Kiral ran into the maintenance crew's break room.