Chapter 5

-Sumalee-

I was happier than I probably should have been when Daniel walked into my lounge again the next day and sat down at the bar. I could not tell you exactly why I was happy he had returned but I was. I mean ... looking at him through unbiased eyes he is not particularly handsome, other than in an everyman, rugged sort of way. But he was nice and listened, laughed at my silly jokes and seemed to be enjoying talking to me for a reason other than just a ploy to separate me from my underwear. Of course it could not lead to anything; he was a passenger and would be gone soon and I was indentured to the ship for at least five more months. But still, it was nice.

I don't remember exactly what we were talking about. Something silly about it being our second date and how I should call him by his given name or something foolish like that which led to even more foolish talk about this and that. The silly kind of talk that men and women have been having with each other since time began, the kind of talk that allows one person to get to know another person.

The first hint of trouble came when some man sitting behind Daniel started screaming about something or other. I am ashamed to admit I more or less froze in place as I watched it unfold, but Daniel did not. As the man stood up and was reaching under his jacket Daniel had slid off his stool and had a bottle from behind the bar in his hand. Later he admitted it was the first thing he could reach and if he'd have known all our bottles were very light biodegradable synthetic plastic he might have looked for something else.

5 As it was the man drew out a gun and the next thing I knew the bottle was hitting him in the shoulder. It was only about half full and didn't weigh much but it did make him stumble backwards a few steps and turn towards us. I'm not sure how it happened but suddenly both Daniel and I were on the floor behind the bar with him on top of me and there were loud noises and plastic chips and splinters from the mirror flying everywhere. I never even noticed them; Daniel was on top of me, completely covering me in fact. I never felt anything.

The one thing I do clearly remember was looking up into his eyes, mere centimeters away from mine. I know it sounds silly but I still cannot tell you exactly what color they are. Are they brown with green flecks or are they green with brown? Crazy I know, but I swear they change depending on his mood. I will tell you another thing that is even crazier: right at that particular instant I was not thinking about that maniac shooting up the lounge. The only thing I could think about were those eyes staring down into mine and the weight of his body on mine holding me down, protecting me.

That look lasted and eternity, or a second or two, I have to admit my sense of time had completely left me. However long it lasted, it ended when Daniel suddenly glanced towards the storage shelves under the bar, muttered some obscenity under his breath and with the sweep of his arm cleared the bottom shelf of the glassware we store there. It made a terrible clatter but with all the screaming and gunfire it was hardly enough to notice. He rolled off me and sort of scooped/pushed me into the space he had cleared. Luckily I am relatively small and I fit rather handily.

"Do. Not. Move," he growled at me and I could only nod. Then with a grimace or maybe it was a grin he ducked down kissed my nose and vanished! I think that shocked me as much as anything else had. I brought my hand up to my nose in wonder.

Soon after he had left me, there was a horrible crash and the shooting intensified for a moment and then it suddenly stopped. Directly afterwards there was more screaming. No, not screaming, shouting, not in fear but in anger. I could hear scuffling and then a cry of pain that made me cringe and shake. What if Daniel had been hurt? I felt tears come to my eyes.

"All right, folks, it's all over," I heard Daniel say in a loud but very calm voice. Scrambling out of my hideaway I tentatively peeked over the bar and saw him kneeling down beside Jeena, the server who had been attending the maniac.

"It's just a scratch, honey," he said as he held her upper arm and looked at a small wound barely dribbling blood. "You have anything else wrong?"

"I think I twisted my ankle falling off my heels," she muttered.

"Definitely Purple Heart material there," he chuckled.

What type of man was this? A man had just tried to shoot him and he was joking about a twisted ankle! Suddenly thinking about the maniac I scanned the room and saw him. He was spread out on the top of a table with something sticking out of his chest. I had no idea what it was at that time.

I then did the only thing I could have done. I ran around the end of the bar and jumped into Daniel's arms crying like a baby.

-Daniel-

"Fuck" is not what you would generally want to have chiseled on your tombstone as your last word but it wasn't the first time I've been so poetic under similar circumstances, although each time I hoped it would be the last time.

I did the first thing that came to mind and heaved the bottle I'd grabbed as hard as I could right at his head. Okay, if I'd known how fucking light they made those things for the cruise ships maybe I'd have tried for something different. I was used to the real glass bottles they still made in Mexico where I usually got my booze for "import" and naturally assumed I'd be grabbing something heavy enough to do a little damage. Well fuck me! That's what you get for assuming. It was only about one-third full and hardly weighed anything at all; in fact it wasn't even heavy enough to make it all the way to his head; instead it hit him in the shoulder. At least it surprised the bastard and he moved back and turned away from the waitress. Of course he turned right towards me.

Not even having my dick in my hand as a weapon and facing a shithead with what looked like a 5mm I instantly decided discretion was the better part of valor and jumped over the bar gathering Sumalee in my arms as I did and dragging us both to the floor seconds before the dumbass started spraying bullets into the mirror and paneling above us. Thank God they don't make that stuff out of real glass anymore. All he ended up doing was putting some pockmarks in the mirrors and killing a few plastic bottles. We did get a few shards of crap fall down on us but nothing really dangerous; even the ricochets ended up in the ceiling. I had twisted as we fell letting Sumalee land on top of me; she didn't even weigh enough to knock the wind out of me. I rolled over on top of her pretty quick so none of the shards would get her, (who said chivalry was dead?) but it was pretty obvious to even an idiot like me we weren't out of the woods yet.

Okay, yeah, it's embarrassing but I have to admit I froze for a moment there when we were nose to nose and I was staring down into those big dark eyes. They were like big pools of ink just sucking me down right inside of her. I was also very aware of her tight little body under me too. All I could think was, Mayhem, this is one hell of a time to be popping wood!

Now, I've been in combat situations for what seemed like most of my life and I can tell you that never happened before! It was ... unique.

Luckily it didn't take long to get my head out of my ass or at least get the blood back to the head where it belonged. Now was not the time! The first thing I needed to do was stash Sumalee somewhere relatively safe and then take care of the asshole. Looking towards the bar I reached out and shoved some glasses and crap they had under there out of the way and tucked her in there snug as a bug in a rug.

"Do. Not. Move," I whispered to her still nose to nose. Then for some reason I kissed her nose. Why? I don't know. If I'd been thinking I would have kissed her lips if I was going to do something nutty like that. Sure her nose was cute but her lips were a hell of a lot more inviting. Later on she said it was romantic but I still think it was stupid, a horrible waste of a last gesture.

Anyway, having done that I proceeded to scurry towards the end of the bar and did something equally insane: attempt to take down a crazed gunman barehanded. At least I knew why I was doing that. Now we were playing a game I actually understood: kill or be killed.

Nearing the end of the bar I reached up and felt for what I thought I remembered was there. It was: a heavy plate and on it a cutting knife. Not much to work with but better than Rosy Palm and nothing else. The dumbass was still trying to kill the mortally wounded mirror which was good; at least he wasn't coming around to finish us off yet. I'd like to say I was hoping he hadn't done anything to the servers but to tell the truth there wasn't anything I could do about if he had so I didn't even think about it.

After retrieving my formidable weaponry, I crouched at the end of the bar. Now I will say my intention was to push over one of the pedestal tables and let the dumbass plug away at my shield until he was empty which couldn't be to awfully much longer. This wasn't one of those vids with infinite ammunition and while I hadn't been counting — I'd been distracted by other things like keeping alive — I knew he had to be almost out. A good plan, right? You know what they say about a plan and the enemy.

Actually it worked out pretty much like it was supposed to. Still crouched down I used the wall to launch myself at the base of one of the tables thinking to push it over. Let me tell you those fuckers are attached to the deck and they weren't meant to be moved! Yeah it went over, barely, and my shoulder had a bruise for days.

My next slight miscalculation was the amount of protection that the table would afford. Okay it worked but there were dimples in the bottom of it from where he shot at me. If it had been just a centimeter thinner a bruised shoulder would have been the least of my worries. He must have popped about five or six rounds my way before I heard the sweetest sound this side of a woman screaming out your name in ecstasy: the click of the magazine door opening on a 5mm pistol. The fucker was out and I don't care how good you are, it still takes seconds to reload, so unless he had another piece in his other hand — something I couldn't do a damn thing about — he was mine!

Standing up I threw the plate at him like it was a Frisbee, you know, those little plastic saucers kids toss back and forth. He might have been reaching under his windbreaker for a reload or maybe another gun but when he saw that plate heading for him he tried to duck. Bad move! I've always said I'd rather be lucky than good and this was one of those times. I'd thrown the plate upside down — unintentionally, I assure you — and it dipped right before it got to him so as he ducked it hit him right in the forehead causing him to drop the empty gun. I'm sure it dazed him a bit but I wasn't about to give him time to shake it off. Right after I let go I was moving towards him at best speed and I may be old but I haven't slowed down that much.

He still had his free hand under his windbreaker and just before I reached him he pulled out what he had been reaching for: a knife. A big fucking knife! Didn't matter, he never had a chance at all. I don't care how good he might have thought he was, but he didn't have my motivation. He didn't have time to bring it all the way out so I stabbed him in the knuckles and the knife dropped from nerveless fingers.

As I was scolded later, I suppose I could have decked him and taken him alive since I'd just disarmed him. Yeah right. Before his knife even hit the floor I had fifteen centimeters of fruit chopping steel up under his sternum and tickling his heart. He was dead before he flopped back on the table.

In my own defense, I have to say it was all instinct. I've never been much of one for prisoners unless that was the mission and I didn't even think about it. He was dead and I was alive, so as far as I was concerned it all turned out pretty successfully.

Anyway I didn't even bother checking him out. If he lived through that the next thing I'd be doing is running like hell. One of the servers was down so I called out that everything was okay and went over to see if she was salvageable. Turns out she was all right, probably got grazed on her arm by a ricochet but had twisted her ankle trying to move back on those sexy but absurdly high heels. I jokingly told her she deserved a Purple Heart for that.

About that time I figured I'd better see if Sumalee was all right and just as I straightened up I was hit by a small, soft body that wrapped her arms around my neck and legs around my waist so tight you would have thought I was the last piece of fat-free chocolate left in the world. I seriously doubt if I could have pried her off with a breaker-bar but to tell the truth I didn't even try. I just wrapped my arms around her and held on while she cried into my neck.

-Mike-

Weird got hold of me through Sara that there had been some kind of dust-up at that bar where we'd found the boss the other night and that his name had been mentioned over the ship's security net. He said there wasn't much detail but that I'd better get my skinny ass down there. Brian was on his way and Weird would be there as soon as he hooked the security net into Sara. Don't ask me how the uber-brained twerp does it; I can't operate anything much more complicated than a bottle opener and am happier that way. It's not my fault if their security can't withstand the curiosity of some dweeb with an IQ higher than most ZIP codes and a combat AI.

Anyway I have to admit I was still a bit cranky from the hangover; I don't care how much Detox you take; after a while it doesn't do any good. I was just heading out to see if I could maybe take the edge off with a small drink or two; in fact I was about halfway down to that very same bar when Weird called me. There were only two things I was thinking about: how the hell was I going to give a good kick to the head with these stupid heels on, and secondly that the boss better not have got himself hurt. Just like an officer to get himself into trouble without someone there to back him up. At least I was wearing a short skirt, which would keep the legs free to cause some damage.

I got there at about the same time Brian did and the place was crawling with ship's security personnel. They were trying to keep everybody back but I could see over their shoulder into the bar. I could see the boss upright anyway so I decided I'd better go in a see just what kind of trouble he'd gotten into. Actually, it was kind of refreshing; usually it was him or one of the other guys doing it for me. Anyhow some little dipshit with a security badge tried to stop me; he even laid his had on his stunner as if to pull it.

"I wouldn't do that," I said. "That handle's going to hurt." He looked at me kind of confused.

"When they try to take it out of your ass," I elaborated. I left him to think about that as I pushed passed him. Brian just grinned at him as he followed me.

The bar was a fucking mess. I quickly scanned the place noting the pockmarks on the mirror behind the bar, the overturned table with more love bites, the stiff spread-eagled on a table, the 5mm and vibro knife on the floor. The stiff had something sticking out of his chest that looked like the handle of a steak knife. Yeah I know what a steak knife is because unlike most pansy-ass douche-bags in our great land, we eat meat at Bennies.

I recognized the Boss's handiwork right away. He never was one for finesse or style but you got to give him one thing: when he sticks it in it stays stuck. So the stiff was his doing and you had to figure the bullet holes were the stiff's. All pretty simple, actually. Why the stiff had a piece and why the boss decided he'd be better off dead were no never-mind to me. If the boss figured he needed it, that's good enough for me.

I was kind of puzzled by everything else that was going on, though. Now the boss was just standing there with that silly little stupid grin he has that seems to make all the women wet their panties, but he wasn't saying a word. Shit, he didn't need to. There were three waitresses in those skimpy little costumes they almost wear giving some stuffed shirt about as much hell as I've ever been privileged to witness, even the one leaning on a table favoring her leg. And that wasn't counting the little piece of fluff attached to his side. I think I remembered she was the bartender he'd been talking to the day before but she wasn't tending bar now and I swear it would have taken a vibro knife to cut her away from him the way she was holding on. He had his arm draped over her shoulders but her arm was around his waist and if her nails weren't sinking into his skin a couple of centimeters, then I'm the Queen of Sheba. Just a poor, scared little bit of fluff.

Or maybe not. The stuffed shirt said something and that little bitty thing launched herself at him with claws out looking for eyes to gouge. The boss grabbed her just in time and pulled her back hissing and spitting. About that time I was thinking I maybe needed to revise my estimate of the little wildcat. With a little training she might just end up being dangerous. I figured it was about time I found out what the hell was going on.

"Yo, Boss," I said strolling up to them. "You throw a party without me?"

"Some nut with a gun," he shrugged. "I stopped him and now the chief here wants to arrest me." The three Barbie clones started howling at that and advanced on the chief again. It was pretty obvious they didn't have any concealed weapons but I'm still not sure I'd have wanted them coming at me with that look in their eyes.

"What's the matter?" I said. "He didn't believe you when you told him the stiff slipped and fell on the knife?"

"Who the hell are you?" the meathead standing next to the chief bellowed and reached for his stunner. I swear they must hire based on bone density because it sure couldn't have been for brains.

"Touch that and I'll break your arm," I said casually as I pointed at his hand. I didn't even look at him. Shit, even if I didn't want to mess up this new dress, Brian would take care of him if need be. Sure, I could take Brian nine out of ten times — well, eight out of ten anyway — but these clowns couldn't even touch him.

"They're with me," the boss informed them and then turned back to me. "I was going to recommend they review the record of what happened before jumping to any conclusions. I'm sure the place is wired for vid." He had barely stopped talking when the vid screen that took up most of one wall and had been showing some beach scene hissed and suddenly the interior of the bar came into startling clarity.