Chapter 11: On Mahsa
The bar was noisy and filled with smoke. There was no gun play here because the owner required all firearms to be checked at the door. Naturally everyone had hold out weapons but they had all come to blow off steam not to blow each others heads off. Two days of sailing had brought the Smollette and her crew to Mahsa. A small planet with a big reputation as the best place to sell whatever you happened to have. It wasn't much to look at with its crater scarred surface and chilly weather from pole to pole, but it was conveniently located on the juncture of three major and four minor trade lanes. It was also patrolled close in by the local Boss. There was too much profit to be made for him to allow raiding of this port. After a day of selling Jack, Anamaria, Closton and Amelia had ventured forth to see what the port offered and maybe learn a thing or two that might help them find Delbert. Now they sat in the Haista Bar. It was not a tavern. There were no rooms to let and there was no food to be served. It was just a bar. A drinking hall with a band in one corner and more light than any tavern would normally allow.
For his part Jack was having a good time. He was drinking and gambling and even flirting with the more comely of the bar's patrons and one of the barmaids. These were of course the most human looking. Jack seemed to be as skilled at carousing as he was at sailing. He made jokes and sang songs and generally made everyone think he was what he appeared to be. Amelia on the other hand was not having a good time. She had never been comfortable in social situations and never would have chosen the company of pirates to unwind in. Her mind was on getting information and she sat in a corner unobtrusively listening. Closton was dancing with Anamaria. The girl was smiling and laughing, no longer put off by the bosun's appearance. He still wore the silver pendant that went so well with his feathers. Amelia had to admit it really did set off his eyes.
"So wha's a preddy loydee like 'e settin' al'n fer?" The voice was deep and harsh and broke in on Amelia's thoughts as a hulking mass of a man sat in the chair next to hers. He thunked down his tankard and slung an unwelcome arm around Amelia's shoulders.
"Aye! Ye shoul' ha' some com'ny," another harsh voice said as a carbon copy of the first man sat down across from her. They were big, rough looking spacers with blue grey skin and under slung jaws. The hair that sprouted from their heads and shoulders was shaggy and they stank not only of drink but of an unpleasant musk. Amelia did not hide her distaste.
"Remove your hand," she growled. Her temper was rising fast.
"Tha's no' a way t' be friendly loyke." The first one grinned. "'E shoul' be nice. One wha's as preddy as 'e."
"Quite right." Amelia gave him a saccharin sweet smile. Her voice was mild. "Please remove your hand before you pull back a bloody stump."
"Hoy!" barked the second brute with mirth. "She a foisty lass!" His laughter rumbled out of him and seemed to roll across the floor like a bowling ball.
Amelia at this point was recalling everything that Anamaria had told her about handling herself like a pirate captain. She couldn't have these two carted out by the tavern master and certainly couldn't call on the local geandarms. What she did happened too fast for either man to react. She drained what was in her mug and with a sledgehammer blow smashed it into the face of the one next to her sending him reeling backward from his chair. While the other gapped at her she stood and in a smooth motion lifted the small table and clubbed him over the head with it, spilling drinks and littering the floor with broken bits of the table and not a few of his teeth. Even as she turned to get them both in view again the first one was struggling to his feet trying to draw his knife. Amelia gave a hard chopping kick to the side of his head and another solid kick to his stomach that rolled him onto his back. Her sword flashed from its scabbard and met the second brute as he came up to his knees roaring indignation.
"I'll 'ave yer preddy haid fer me wall!" His voice died away when he discovered the tip of her weapon inches from his nose.
"Ah, lads, do you not see who yer up aginst?" This voice was jolly and menacing at the same time. It came from the crowd of onlookers that had gathered to see the sudden excitement. "Aye. Tha's Cap'n Amelia. An' no spacer has ever crossed her bow wi'out takin' a load o' shot fer 'is troubles. Steer clear o' squalls is my advice, lads."
The thug on his knees ground his remaining teeth and was slipping a hand toward the knife at his belt but stopped when a tight beam of light traced its way down his face across his chest and over his arm. For some reason this stopped him. He looked sideways into the crowd and then let his hand fall away. He grunted as he rose to his feet and edged cautiously around Amelia as she rotated to keep her weapon trained on him. He wanted no more trouble though. He just leaned down and took the prone form of his companion under the arms and dragged him off. Amelia waited until she was sure the fight was done before she sheathed her blade. Looking around quickly she caught sight of Closton nearby and saw him put something small and heavy back into his pocket. Jack was watching from his seat at the bar with an arm around a dark skinned girl with a mop of spiky, black hair and a large bust line. Annamaria was hovering by the wall.
"Can an old sailor buy ye a drink, Cap'n?" Amelia recognized the voice before she actually saw its owner.
"Silver," she breathed with a tinge of distaste.
"As ever was." The cyborg moved from the press of customers as they went back to their carousing. "Best if we move to another spot, Cap'n."
"What the devil are you doing here?" she demanded unmoving.
"Where else could I go?" Silver's voice held a note of resentment. "I think a better question is what are YE doin' here? But before ye answer that we'd better move away."
