"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 walke
d 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.
"Cowardly bastard, maybe he'll know better who to be afraid of next time," Bob snarled. The pad translated it for all of them and the barkeep looked big eyed at his accusation and backed up.
Once he had the story out of him the cop led them back outside. The bar owner was braver as soon as he was looking at their backs and shouted some objections about his ruined door. They ignored him.
One of the under-cops came back from the dead carrying a Biter pistol. He reported to his leader that all four of the Biters had discharged their weapons. The pad translated the leader's rank as captain.
"Incredibly stupid," Bart muttered. He was standing in front of Dauntless, where he'd stayed guarding him, not going in the bar. He had his carbine in hand but politely pointed at the deck.
"Why so?" the Bill with the Biter weapon asked, squinting while he looked at Bart.
"Shoot me with that stupid piece of junk." Bart invited.
"Certainly not!" he said, horrified.
"Look at the Badger," Bart said, stepping to the side a bit and pointing. Dauntless was sitting again, his back to the wall, wounded foot straight out in front of him. Nobody seemed in any hurry to get him a medic. The three shots he stopped with his vest were dull gray badges on his chest. Bart leaned over and picked at one with a single finger. The edge bent back so he could get a grip and he ripped it off the vest with a jerk. It was pressed into the weave of the fabric so hard it might have been glued on. He tossed the coin to the Bill who caught it easily. He looked at it closely before passing it to his superior.
"You're saying this was a Biter bullet?" the cop asked, plainly dubious.
"Yeah, total piece of crap weapon. We have antiques that shame it."
"Take the crazy's invitation and shoot him," the irked Captain ordered.
The Bill didn't seem to mind the idea when it was coming from his superior. The Biter pistol apparently wasn't too different for a Bill to grip. He drew a careful bead Bart's chest and shot. The pistol recoiled pretty substantially, but Bart didn't get pushed off balance. The suit flexed a little right around the point of impact . He didn't stop though, recovering from the recoil and putting another round on Bart's helmet visor. The bullet made a silvery smear across the clear face plate, hit the wall behind him throwing spalled chips every which way and flew off down the street with a 'Burrrrr' sound as the flattened slug spun off through the air. Everybody ducked a little, even though it was far too late to duck anything that was going to hit them.
"That seems sufficient testing," the Captain decided, "before one of us catches a bouncer."
"We call it a ricochet," Bob corrected the translator and got a flat voiced 'noted' from it.
The Captain walked away from Bob and his translator, past the corner where Dauntless sprawled and stood in the street nearly down to the pile of Biters. He was talking to someone, standing with his back to them and indeed got so animated he was making gestures even though it wasn't a video phone. When he finished and walked back he approached Bob.
"My superiors in Station Security instructed me to revoke your welcome on station. Your presence is no longer desired and they request you leave as quickly as possible."
"We don't stay where we aren't welcome," Bob assured him. "We won't forget either. We'll be back to the Dart in no more than ten minutes and I'll tell them to undock as quickly as can safely be done. Does that all translate clearly?"
"Yes, six hundred of your seconds. Do we need to provide transport for the injured one?"
"We can carry him easily enough. Don't bother to escort us. We can find our way."
"Bart, sling your weapon and carry Dauntless. We're going back the ship. He turned his back on the police and didn't waste any further pleasantries on them. He leaned over by the Biters and scooped up one of their weapons off as a trophy in passing. He half expected the Bills to object, but none of them called out to him.
"You set the pace, Bob," Mozart and I are both faster than you. Unless you want to ride Mozart?"
"They don't need to be rid of us that fast," he told Bart and set off at a good jogging pace. Bart carried Dauntless easily in his arms with the help of the powered armor.
"I'm sorry, I'm probably hurting you," Bart apologized, "it's hard to go fast and smooth in this rig."
"Don't worry about it," Dauntless said. "Just get me out of this Bill shit hole."
"Bob! He called to the Human's back, "I could hear the cop when he got upset and raised his voice talking to his commander. He was asking for reinforcements with heavy weapons. They must have overruled him because they didn't want the place shot up, because at one point he told them there was already damage to the public corridor from your bomb."
"It was just a grenade not a bomb. A bomb would have made a gapping big hole in their station, not a pock-mark in the deck paving."
"Noted" said the translation program.
* * *
The minor gas giant was beautiful. It was banded in pale violet, crème and a daffodil yellow. The cap they flew over had an angry purple bull's-eye that formed a hex. The round bands below it displayed evenly spaces cusps along their boundaries that suggested the same forces that formed the polar hex worked to divide them into cells too. There were a lot of moons and several rings, although they weren't the prominent feature.
Family Law 2: The Long Voyage of the Little Fleet Page 29