13 Degrees of Separation

by Hechtl, Chris

  “That's not the point. You aren't going to do something stupid. We've got a mission. Focus on that. Leave the damn bug alone. That's an order.”

  “But...”

  “No. Now knock it off,” the leader growled. Jerald frowned as he turned and backed through the back door into the kitchen. He nodded to Rack'th who was their chef. “Can you believe these guys want a real steak and bake potato?” he said putting the paper up in the overhead and using a magnet to hold it to the metal ring hanging from the ceiling.

  “You kidding me? What they got credits to burn? Why come here for that?”

  “Not sure. But I don't like these guys. They don't like Veraxins for one thing,” Jerald replied.

  “Oh? Well gee, fresh out of steak,” the Veraxin chittered.

  “You could spit on it,” Penny replied as she came from the walk in fridge. “If you had lips.”

  “Which I don't. Besides, that's unhygienic. I don't need our rating going down if they are undercover health inspectors,” the Veraxin chef replied, working on another order.

  “True,” Penny said.

  “I don't think they're health inspectors. Military from the voices and what they said,” Jerald said frowning. They had had a few Marines in the bar, he'd learned to recognize them from the haircuts or demeanor. Even Navy service personnel were easy to spot now. But these... he frowned. The weasel one had a pony tail, definitely something a Marine wouldn't have.

  “What makes you say that?” Penny asked. “I don't remember any ships docked or on liberty,” she said. Usually Rick went out of his way to get the business of the military, they paid well and right off, keeping the booking simple.

  “Something they said,” Jerald replied when Penny poked him.

  The men looked rough, oddly out of place in the bar. “Steak is only synthesteak, fresh out of real meat. We get the next order in first of the month,” Penny informed him. She turned to the chef. “So you're off the hook.”

  “Thanks,” the Veraxin chattered. “What about the baked tuber?”

  “I'll go see,” Jerald replied.

  He exited the kitchen then went to the bar. “Something up kid?” Rick asked.

  “The trio at table four. They are bug haters. Apparently they hate any and all aliens. One was talking about cutting up Br'n.”

  “Oh?” Rick asked, pouring a drink from a tap. “Going to need another keg soon.”

  Jerald nodded.

  “You know the crap that goes on in here. It's all talk,” Rick finally said.

  “Yeah, but this one has a knife and is eager boss,” He informed Rick.

  “Oh? Well, I'll keep an eye on them and tell Br'n to keep her distance,” Rick said.

  Jerald frowned but got busy making the double Vodka. He grabbed a power bar, napkins, and a basket of crackers. The barkeep was blowing it off, but he felt that something was going on.

  He made his way over to the men and their quiet talk ended as the weasel man poked the leader and nodded his chin to the bus boy turned waiter.

  “No steak?”

  “No, sorry, we're fresh out of meat. I can do the bake potato though,” he replied, setting his tray down and distributing it's goods.

  “Fine, a big one though. Fresh,” the guy grumbled. “Can't get a decent piece of meat to save a life,” the guy grumbled under his breath.

  “I'll get on that. Is there anything else gentlemen?”

  “No, split kid,” the leader said. Jerald nodded and walked off. He came back a few minutes later with the newly microwaved potato, put it down with a pad of replicated butter, chives, and then left.

  The men talked intently, picking at their food and drink. The weasel man wrote on the napkins.

  “See? No big thing kid,” Rick said with a shrug when the men quietly went to the bar, paid their bill with gold coins and then left.

  Jerald frowned and went to the table. He was annoyed that they hadn't left a tip. He bused the table. Curious he picked up a crumpled napkin that had fallen out of the weasel guy's pocket.

  Slowly he opened it and then frowned. It took him a moment to puzzle out the crude drawing of the fusion reactor, and then the line to the back to the fuel storage system. There was a big X drawn and circled on the diagram.

  “Rick,” he said as he tucked his tote under his arm and went over to the bar.”What do you make of this?” he asked, putting the bar napkin down and smoothing it out. He set the dirty dishes down nearby.

  “Ah kid, not on my bar, I just cleaned there!” Rick complained. Jerald frowned, ignoring the complaint.

  “What is it?” Liam asked, looking over. Liam was the chief engineer of the station, Rick teased him about slumming in the bar. Liam didn't drink, he just had a water and a quick lunch there when he wanted to get away from the office.

  “I'm not sure,” Jerald replied. He pointed to the napkin. “I think that's a fusion reactor, but I'm not sure.”

  “Okay,” the guy replied snorting. He looked over and then nodded. “Yeah, it's one of the reactors. Not sure which though, each is a bit different since we rebuilt them at different times and with different materials.”

  “Yeah, it's odd though, why the X?” Jerald asked.

  Liam looked at the diagram, flipped it over to look at the X and then shrugged. “No idea.”

  “Could they be students?”

  “Anything is possible.”

  “I'll hang onto it in case they want it back,” Jerald said, tucking the napkin in his pocket. Liam snorted and then got off his stool and left. He waved a brief salute to Rick as he exited the bar.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  The next day the trio returned at the same time. They sat at a different table this time. One had a different outfit, but the other two looked rumpled. “Damn it, do we have to sleep in the corridors?” the one Jerald thought of as number three asked. It wasn't quite a whine, but close.

  “No choice. We have to conserve our cash. So stop getting expensive shit like steaks,” the weasel faced man said crossly.

  “Ah man,” the third grumbled.

  “You know the drill. Fuck up the mission and I'll space you myself,” the leader growled. That made Jerald stop his approach short. The weasel noted him and nodded his chin to Jerald.

  “Um, good afternoon gentlemen, how can I help you?” he asked.

  “Whiskey if you've got it,” the leader said. “Single round. And oh, another bake potato for each of us,” he said eying the other two men. Both nodded.

  “Sure thing,” Jerald replied, writing the order down. “Anything else?” They shook their heads no and the leader spread his hands. “All right then, just a moment,” Jerald said and retreated.

  When he returned to the table with their order he learned that the trio of men were transients from a tramp freighter that had come from Horathian space, the Old Nelly. When they finished their drinks and potato they tossed a pair of coins on the table and then left.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Piece by piece he picked up more and more about them each day. They only came in around lunch, sometimes before the normal lunch hour, sometimes after. They ordered simple things after a while, usually the cheapest thing on the menu. Their story didn't fit what he'd picked about them from other patrons.

  Yardley, a power tech regular told him they had chatted him up when he had admitted his job. One had told Yardley that they had come in on the Midnight MX2, which the lad knew was false, it had been a small ship and he'd gotten to know everyone on board in the long transit here.

  He grimaced, trying to think of what to do. It didn't add up. He informed the Rick.

  “You're not going to let this go are you kid?” Rick asked amused.

  “No, not when something like this is at stake.”

  “I think the lad is right Rick, they are off,” Penny interjected, shaking her head. “And off as in not in a good way either,” she said, giving him a long look.

  The barkeep rubbed his jaw, looking from one to the other. Even
tually he shrugged and then called in a friend. “Monty? Yeah, it's me. I need a favor. I need you to come by for a bit. Something hinky is going on.”

  “Oh?”

  “Let's just say, right up your alley old friend, or at least your new alley if you catch my drift.”

  “Oh?” Monty's voice changed a bit.

  “Yeah. If you could arrange to oh, come by say, in ten or twenty minutes with some eyes and ears, it might be enlightening. If you could find Sekim around, tell him the first round is on me.”

  Monty paused for a long moment. The barkeep never rarely ever gave free drinks, they were so expensive. Something was up if he was willing to grease the wheels and make it worth the trip. He cleared his throat. “Well, as it happens, I'm on station and I'm thirsty so I'll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks Monty. Be seeing ya,” The barkeep said and then hung up. He was completely casual about the whole thing.

  “That's it? What about security?” the lad demanded in a whisper.

  The barkeep eyed the lad. “Patience kid. Let's see what ole Monty finds,” he told him in a low voice.

  “Who is he?”

  “You'll see,” the barkeep said then nodded to the bar. “Get with it lad, the bar doesn't take care of itself. Stop acting so suspicious. Make sure you relax and don't scare em off,” he said.

  The lad nodded and got to work. A short time later the barkeep nudged him. “He's here,” was all he said.

  The friend was a Navy intel officer, First Lieutenant John Montgomery. He came in off duty and out of uniform with a pair of friends, NCIS agent Franks Sekim and Lieutenant Junior Grade Irene Teague. Teague looked distinctively out of place since she looked so uncomfortable. She didn't like going in without any knowledge. Sekim bellied up to the bar without a quibble, he'd been in worse dives.

  'Monty' and Sekim heard their quiet story then Monty had his people drop some listening devices and then use their implants to listen to some of the chatter. Sekim and Monty kept casual, forearms on the bar, sipping beer like a pair of normal patrons, chatting small talk, but Teague couldn't help looking around.

  “This is a wild goose chase. We've got more important things to be doing sir,” Teague complained.

  “Let's just give it a while. You can't rush trade craft Irene,” Monty replied. “Besides, this will give you some time to polish your casual act.”

  “She needs it badly. She's sticking out like a sore thumb,” Frank said over their channel. Irene grunted in irritation. All three had implants so they picked up the spies talk after filtering out the excess.

  “So, when are we going to do it? You think we can flip Yardley and get the bomb in?”

  “I think so. Or we'll have to smuggle it in one piece at a time. I'm not sure. We need a better look at the security systems. Anything on that front?” the leader asked, turning his attention to the third man.

  The third frowned, pecking at his meal. “No,” he said. The leader grunted softly. “And we're not going to get much. There isn't anything on the net about the systems. I checked.”

  “Did you check the maintenance sections?” the weasel faced man asked. “Turing, I told you...”

  “I don't... look, I didn't look. Okay I forgot. I'm also nervous about this damn AI. If it sees us poking around where we shouldn't it'll throw a fit,” the other man said.

  “Pipe down both of you,” the leader grunted. He waited until the patron passing him on the way to the bathroom had gotten out of earshot.

  “What is the plan after we do this? You know they'll lock the station down once it goes off,” the weasel one said.

  “Well, the plan had been to go North to Agnosta, but that's out. The Navy is headed there with their fleet.”

  “Shit.”

  “So now what?”

  “We could wait until the fleet comes in and takes the system.”

  “That's at the end of the year. Too long. We don't have the funds for that. We've got enough for a week or so more and then enough for passage off.”

  “Frack.”

  “Yeah. And there is only one ship in, it's heading west to Gaston.”

  “Frack. Weren't we supposed to meet up with the Prinz in Triang though?”

  “Or take shelter in Briev and wait for our next mission orders to catch up with us. Yes. But things change Lieutenant, you have to adapt.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Knock that shit off,” the leader sighed.

  “It's... different. Before we were in and out. This is... harder.”

  “Well, you better get better at it or we're screwed,” the leader growled. He carefully looked around. He didn't like the look of the new meat at the bar. They had their backs to them but one had a haircut that screamed military or security. That put him on edge.

  “Come on. Finish up. I think we're done coming here for a while. I should never have fallen into a habit of coming here so often.”

  “Yeah boss, but the food is good. And cheap. Besides, it's one of the places where the engineers hang out,” Turing said.

  “Yeah well, we're not getting much here. Yardley's avoiding us now. We stand out too much. We'll find another watering hole.”

  That was enough for Teague. She sent a signal through her implants.

  “Lieutenant," Monty sighed, picking up the response from security. He shook his head. “Way to go Lieutenant, jumping the gun,” he said.

  “Sir...”

  “Did you ever think of what they will do cornered here? With a dozen or so potential hostages?” Frank asked casually, sitting back and stretching his arms over his head and to the sides. He rolled his shoulders and then when Rick looked his way raised a finger then pointed to each of them. Rick nodded as Frank pushed the empty cups forward. “Make mine a long neck. I haven't had one in a while,” Frank said. He ran a hand through his short hair, finger combing it and then swore softly. He could see the leader of the spies watching him through his implants. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

  “Something wrong?” Monty asked.

  “Wrong? No, I just forgot my damn haircut,” Frank replied, making a face as the drinks arrived. He took a swig of the beer, then swirled the bottle for a moment.

  Teague had disappointed Monty by immediately putting a call in for security. She was too busy kicking herself for not keeping a closer eye on the group when they had come in on the Old Nelly. They hadn't raised any flags when they had come in, but she should have filtered for humans.

  “I should have kept more of an eye on them. They stand out now,” She sighed over the channel, setting her glass down. The water made her cough, she had drank too fast.

  “Girl can't handle her liquor,” Frank teased with a smile.

  “Ah shove it,” Teague replied, pushing him a bit. Frank approved, she was finally loosening up and getting into her cover. Hopefully the trio would drop their guard.

  Monty however was thinking about the trio. He pulled up Teague's interviews and then quickly scanned her notes. Nothing stood out.

  Monty agreed with herself flagellation in theory, but the Chimerian clan had drawn everyone's eye like iron filings in a magnet. They'd just stood out so much. That might have been what the spies had expected and had counted on.

  But he also realized, what's done was done. As was her call for security. But he could change that. Monty sent out a signal and modified the order, he made certain the trio of spies and saboteurs would be grabbed away from the bar to keep potential civilians out of harm's way. Smithy could lock them into a corridor and then gas them if need be. There was no need to go in guns blazing.

  He watched through his implants as the trio tossed a pair of coins on the table and got up to leave. One went to the bathroom, the others waited by the door until he exited, zipping his fly. He frowned as they left.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Thinking the Navy investigators had blown them off and were just letting them walk, Jerald tore his apron off and ducked out the back. He followed the spies at a d
istance. They immediately noticed the amateur tail, he wasn't hard to spot and his sudden turn and act of nonchalance didn't fool them. They bolted.

  Instinctively Jerald gave chase. Mary saw him running and followed. He rounded a corner and stopped, it was a dead end with the hatches shut. Two of the men were there, standing there with knives out. He turned at a sound and saw the weasel man there behind him, cutting off retreat.

  “Going somewhere kid?”

  “Nosy. I bet he heard something.”

  “Make it quick. Mugging gone bad,” the leader said, moving in.

  Mary saw the glitter of the knife in the weasel's hands just as he moved around the corner. She heard some voices but knew her boyfriend was in trouble. There was no time to call security so she acted.

  Mary came up behind the weasel and hit him with a blow to the back of his calf, knocking him back and down. His hands came up to ward her off but she slipped to his off side, grabbing his free arm and pulling it over his head forcing him further off balance. The man snarled in surprise as she twisted his wrist. She used the flat of her right hand to parry his left wrist, knocking the blade from his hands.

  The other three men were momentarily startled by Mary's sudden attack. Jerald recovered first, dropping to the ground and then kicking up into the left knee of Turing. The man's knee crunched and he howled, going down clutching at the intense pain in his now shattered kneecap.

  The leader snarled, backing for a moment then charging forward. Now he wanted to flee, but his feet tangled with Jerald's and he went down in a heap. He tried to roll and stab at the kid but Jerald shimmied away.

  “What the... ah hell,” Irene Teague said rounding the corner with a security bot bobbing behind her. She kicked the blade away from the weasel faced man then punched him in the solar plexus. He doubled over his aching abdomen, gasping for air.

  Teague intervened with a security robot, using the robot to stun the spies to prevent them from suiciding. That also had the fortunate coincidence of ending the fight before someone was killed.

  Monty showed up, interrupting her haranguing the civilians. “You weren't much better Irene so can it,” Monty said mildly. Sekim snorted, pulling the men to their feet. “You okay kid?” Monty asked, looking at the lad. The young man nodded, rubbing his chest. “Next time leave the spies to the authorities. Don't be a hero.”