CHAPTER 2
"Major, have you lost what little mind you possess? I simply cannot believe you agreed to this!"
Smith's harsh tone grated on Don's nerves and the Major retorted. "It's not like we had a choice and you know it. No money, nothing to barter. Working for currency to buy the parts and supplies we need is the only way to get them."
"Not the only way," Smith sniffed disdainfully.
Don guffawed. He didn't even want to contemplate what his companion was thinking. "Maybe, but it's the only legal option, and none of us, including you, will be allowed to do it any other way."
"Nevertheless, you didn't have to get me involved in this," he said, pointing at the heavy carved door before them, and in the direction of the raucous laughter, or what might have been laughter, emanating from within. Smith shivered visibly. There were other sounds in there that made his skin crawl and he dreaded finding out exactly what made some of those sounds.
Turning partially to face him, Don replied with a poke to the doctor's shoulder, "Let me lay it on the line for you. You don't work, you don't eat. Simple as that. And I'm here to make doubly sure you work. Hard." With that he grinned evilly.
"Oh the pain," muttered Smith with a glance at the heavens, bright with stars and lit by three waxing moons.
They stood still for a moment assessing the entrance and the sign above it. They couldn't read it, of course, but it fit the description. However, the thick walls of the structure didn't permit more than muffled and garbled words to break through. Worse, the windows were no more than dingy stained glass panes, impossible to see through.
"I'm afraid, Major."
With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, West ignored the plaintive and all too common refrain. "Forget it, Smith. You're words fall on deaf ears so save your breath." With a slight shove he moved his companion toward the door.
At that moment, the door opened and one of the elevated, self-contained pods for a fishlike creature floated out into the night air and breezed past them without a second glance, its enormous bulbous eyes barely registering the life forms in front of it. Hand firmly clasped around Smith's upper arm, Don felt the man shiver. I can't believe they put us here, he thought as he reached for the door before it had fully closed. On second thought, yes I do. They did tell us this place had a high turnover of staff and now I see why.
The two humans were immediately bombarded by a miasma of scents, some pleasant and some…not so much. Smith instinctively jerked backward. "Those noxious odors are going to make me bring up my dinner."
"Then there'll be just one more 'noxious odor' in the midst of the rest of them. Only difference is you'll have to clean it up yourself." The Major scanned the crowd for anything that looked like a boss. Two things became immediately apparent. Loads of humanoids lounged at tables of varying sizes but nothing actually 'human', besides themselves was present. The room was unusually spacious although very crowded at the moment. What could pass for a bar was situated at the far end, lots of colorful lights sparkling down, highlighting bottles and other containers for what was presumably beverages of some kind. There was also a wide assortment of aliens that couldn't have even remotely been considered humanoid. Some of them were uncomfortably familiar.
"Why am I sensing a feeling of Déjà vu', Major?"
Even with darker lighting by the door frame, Don could see Smith's adam's apple bob with a tense swallow. He snickered. "Once you've seen one 'Space Tavern' you've seen 'em all." The door pushed in from behind them, bumping them roughly forward. Both men stumbled as something elephantine tried to squeeze itself in, but they managed to right themselves without mishap. The newcomer trumpeted out a greeting which was bleated back by a group in a far corner.
Thanks to the translator, they had little difficulty finding the tavern owner, a surly local pig-faced Vedanyian with mean eyes, a protuberant belly, and a pair of vicious looking tusks displaying one point broken off. He simply chuffed as they approached.
"Ah, fresh meat!" he grunted from his gut. "Welcome aboard." He grabbed two brooms from a corner and thrust it toward each man, along with two aprons from a hook on the nearest wall. Smith glanced at the hooks and realized some of those aprons weren't suitable for humanoids, but his attention was drawn back to their new boss. "Hey, you listening to me?" When he got a quick nod from the doctor, he went on. "Rules are simple. Keep the floor as clean as you can. Clean up empty glasses and so on. Mops and buckets are over there. Tubs for dirty items, too," he gestured with heavy knuckled appendages. "Sink's in the back. If anything…unusual...happens, duck."
"Oh joy, oh bliss," Smith croaked. Then his voice hardened. "To think that I, borne of such an illustrious family, should be reduced to laboring as a bus boy. Oh the indignity of it all. This is really too much of an insult to bear."
"Cut it out, Smith, and get to work. Console yourself with the fact that at least they didn't have us cleaning out their sewer system", he paused to smile maliciously. "Although sometimes I think that would have been a fitting profession because you usually so full of sh—"
"Major, really! There is no call for insults…or vulgarity." Smith snatched a broom from the major's outstretched arm, braced it against one end of the bar, and donned the apron. It was a tad too large but with some creative wrapping he got it tied on.
Overall, the place was too warm to be comfortable and both humans found themselves sweating and tired well before exhaustion was warranted. Don fully expected to find Smith hiding out in the kitchen but either the owner was watching them too carefully for that or Smith just wanted to get the night over with. He carefully swept around patrons, pushing debris of all sorts into a pan and transferring that to a large refuse container not far from the kitchen entrance. Then he grabbed a tub for the 'empties' and filthy dishes.
It amazed Don how much food was going to waste but clearly these beings were of one mind in that regard. They may have paid for it, but were too inebriated to care as long as the drinks weren't spilled. Worms from someone's snack, along with some viscous strings of sputum, were writhing at his feet. For the first time he could empathize with Smith's more refined sensibilities and what being here was doing to them.
"Move out of my way, ch'ar'ga!" something growled from behind him.
A neon pink ovoid creature, eyeless and seemingly mouthless as well, balanced on furry looking spider legs and seemed to stare at him. He started to comply when he heard just off to his right another chittered series of tweets. The translator affixed to the chest of something rat-like, spat out. "What did you call me, you—"The device apparently couldn't handle that word but judging from the reaction of Mr. Daddy Long-Legs, it wasn't a nice thing to say.
The neon thing scuttled past Don, leaving a waft of rotten meat in its wake. West may have been brave and strong and tough as nails but he had to turn away to avoid hurling. As he did so, the two confrontational beings met in the middle of the room and began slapping limbs at each other. Don instinctively scanned the room for Smith to make sure the doctor wasn't in harm's way. He wasn't, thank goodness, but he wasn't exactly far from the action either. Don saw the man cringe backward and bump into a table. Glasses and containers rattled and rolled, some hitting the floor.
Next thing both men knew, they were in the thick of a battle too confusing to recount accurately later on. "Oh no, here we go again," he heard Smith holler. Ironically it wasn't Smith's fault that the angry customers became embroiled in the brawl. With more agility than Don had ever seen, Smith had managed to stabilize the table without too much upset and was sidestepping toward the bar to replace the drinks, leaving placating words in his wake, promising to refill their cups.
Meanwhile Daddy Long Legs wasn't faring well. Mr. Rat was bulkier and clearly scrappier than the spider-like being expected. Rat grabbed him by one of his lengthy appendages and swung him to the table Smith was trying to move around. Several things shaped like red bricks with stalk eyes and crablike pincers, scuttled backward on six legs and all heaved their table at the two combatants. Smith was caught by the edge of the table and unwillingly propelled into the middle of fray. He didn't even have time to scream. Like a newborn trying to crawl around on the filthy floor, he ended up slipping and sliding his way toward safety. Without hesitation, Don dodged bodies rising from their variety of seats, while trying to reach the doctor before any real damage could be done.
Too late, a fist the size of a spiral ham crashed into Smith's jaw. Don knew how dangerous falling down would be. All those bodies would likely trample the man to death if he didn't get the doctor to his feet in a hurry. However, instead of ending up prostrate, Smith bounced off a chirping thing that looked like Big Bird sans feathers, and unintentionally ended up in the battle again.
The ham-fisted alien, covered in warty green skin and nothing else, swung at him again. Smith tried to back-pedal and did exactly what the tavern owner suggested. He ducked. It almost worked. Instead, he lost his balance, landing flat on his back. Green being, flexed ample muscles like the Hulk, hollered something like "Avander crush you like bug!" and moved in for the kill.
By then the Cowardly Smith was completely subsumed by Smith in full survivor mode. Still prostrate on the floor, he knew he was in deep doo-doo and did the only thing he could. He drove his boots as hard as he possible into Avander's knees, which, to Smith's amazement, buckled backward with surprising ease.
"Take that you abhorrent abomination," Smith crowed. As his attacker started to drop, Smith drove his right foot outward again, higher this time, hitting the hapless victim in the area between its legs. That spot sported two pendulous sets of what appeared to be genitalia. At least that is what he hoped they were. Avander, let loose with an impossibly high pitched wail, causing everyone to moan and groan, cry and gnash teeth as they covered whatever auditory organs they possessed. For many moments no one could move. All the two men could do was either lie there or stand immobile as knives of agony pierced their skulls. Holding hands over their ears was of no use whatsoever.
The elephantine being came to the rescue. He scooped up the still whimpering Avander, whose meaty hands hadn't budged from his injured private parts, and successfully tossed him out the door into the street. He landed with a smack of flesh on pavement. His keening cry could still be heard as the door shut, effectively blocking out most of the pain-inducing sound.
With a heavy sigh, Don straightened. At least the brawl was over. Then something hit him over the head with a bottle and he crumpled to his knees. "Major?" he heard a familiar voice cry out. He became aware that the din had increased again. Curses, or what he took to be curses, flew fast and furious around the room. Beneath him the floor vibrated with the pounding of feet and overturning of tables. A surprisingly strong human hand grasped him by the elbow and dragged him upright. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a chair winging its way toward his head and he managed to dodge it just in time.
"I've had it. I'm leaving this dreadful place. I don't care if they put me in the sewers. Nothing can be a horrendous as this."
Don saw Smith try to head toward the door but something indescribably hideous, like a melting, slimy demon from the depths of hell, picked him up and tossed him into a charging blue-skinned centaur-like alien. It was clearly female and just as clearly enraged.
Somehow Smith managed to get his feet beneath him as he landed on the floor but there was too much forward momentum. Throwing out his hands, he attempted to stop himself and tragically ended up with both hands squarely splayed across both of her overly large breasts. She glanced down at that moment and snarled, "YOU!"
A look of abject horror washed over Smith's features. "Oh good heavens. Not again," he shrieked loud enough for everyone to hear.
A terror-stricken Smith tried desperately to disengage his hands from alien hooters as though they were filled with molten lava. Had they been human he would certainly have known what to do with them to make her very happy, but this wasn't his week for blue skinned centaurs and clearly she wasn't happy with him either.
Instead of pushing him away, she had grabbed him by the upper arms holding him immobile.
"Madam, please…," he said placatingly, "You're really quite…lovely…but I prefer my own species. This is all just a terrible misunderstanding."
Hope springs eternal, at least in Smith's brain, and he certainly hoped she'd forgive and forget, not just this time but for the last time too. Sadly the look in her orange eyes said otherwise. Without warning, she crushed him to her voluptuous bosom, planting his face well within her cleavage. While he might have found such advances delightful from a human, he quickly realized he couldn't breathe. At all. He was growing faint from lack of oxygen. This isn't how I want to die! His mind cried. Imagine how the coroner's report will read. Asphyxiation by mammary glands…
To his complete shock, she let up slightly. Enough for him to tilt his head upward. Her features showed unadulterated fury. Snarling lips drew back to reveal incisors the color of robin's eggs. Quick as a snake, her mouth plunged toward the area between his neck and shoulder. Smith knew for certain she was going to do more than give him a love bite. Arching his back with every ounce of his strength, he tried to draw away. But she grasped him tighter again. Once more his face was buried between her 'girls'. He felt her maneuvering again to make an hors d'oeuvre out of his flesh.
Two can play at that game, he realized. Pivoting as much as he could, he sank his teeth into her skin. Deeply. His mouth was instantly filled with blood that oddly tasted like peppermint. But it had the desired affect. She roared in both pain and anger. Yet she did release him. In fact, she dropped him like a hot potato.
This time, he'd had quite enough. No more altercations with this wicked female. Not wanting a repeat performance, Smith staggered to his feet, grabbed the nearest empty chair and without hesitation swung it with all his might at the centaur's head. She tried to rise up on her hind legs and cover her head with her beefy arms but, fueled by all that adrenaline, he was too quick for her and the seat of the chair collided with her skull in a resounding thwack. When she keeled over, it was like a wall toppling over.
Around him, Smith heard groans of frustration and as he backpedaled, he saw currency exchanging hands. Looking for Don, he saw the pilot, slumped against a tipped table, shaking his head as if he'd been punched senseless, which had probably been the case. Probably coming to my rescue, Smith thought without much pity. You deserved it for not refusing this job in the first place.
With the fun over, winners and losers of the betting session started squabbling again and seconds later the brawl resumed. Although the humans tried to bolt for the door they had no luck. Too much distance, broken tables and chairs, and felled bodies, to make a clean break.
Before long both men were involved in the melee. Anything that came to Smith's hands wound up over opponents heads or whacked into whatever sensitive areas he thought they possessed. Throwing punches left and right, Don struggled to catch his breath. He heard Smith panting heavily behind him. At least he thought it was Smith. Hoped it was Smith. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure, he saw the doctor take a swing, a right hook to be precise, at the face of a humanoid creature covered in fish scales. It slid sideways just as he threw his punch and instead of hitting the fish thing, it hit Don squarely on the cheek. Hard enough to see stars, that was for sure. He staggered back a few steps, as the room began to swim.
"Hey," West hollered as his head cleared a bit.
"So sorry, Major. But you shouldn't have gotten in the way."
Don didn't miss the tight smile tugging at the corner of Smith's mouth. He also didn't miss the swollen and split lip, not to mention the human mixed with alien blood all over his face.
"You're gonna pay for that, Smith."
"All's fair in love and war", replied the doctor as if that would excuse it. "Howsomeever, if we get out of this alive, I'll give you one free shot. Just promise me you won't break my nose. It's my one distinguished feature."
Then the melee closed in on them again and they went back to back to avoid a repeat performance.
When the legal authorities finally arrived, they found bodies of all sizes, shapes and genders being hurled out the door and onto the street. Other aggressors were diving onto them, limbs still hacking and slashing. It took the police quite a while to sort them all out and triage those who needed medical attention. Getting over the piles of unconscious bodies and whimpering but responsive beings proved to be no easy task.
They found the owner of the place looking totally distraught. He'd faced minor upheavals in the past but nothing even remotely surpassed this level of carnage and destruction. Worse still, his newly hired help was nowhere to be found. Mournfully he glanced around and made a mental note to hire new staff on the morrow. Looking upward at the speckled ceiling, then down to the floor again, he realized he was going to need a cleaning crew to mop up all the biohazardous waste and that was going to cost him a bundle.