The gigantic sign spells out the name of the establishment in ten languages, including Protean, which is composed of varying sequences of light flashes. Any reasonably educated traveler is thus made aware that he is about to enter a tavern known as the Titanium Drannit. The walls of this place, like those of most businesses on the commerce moon, are hung canvas, but a low roof, complete with thick wooden beams, has been added for atmosphere. The tables are of the same rough-hewn boards, held together with heavy crossbars of some half-corroded metal.
A blond Sebacean girl in a worn dress makes her way between the tables, a tray hoisted high above her head. I sit at the only empty table I can find and watch her, admiring the skill with which she evades her customers' lower limbs, tails, and haphazardly strewn chairs. A furry, simian being pats her behind as she bends to serve a blue concoction to a Nebari man, but instead of pulling out a pulse pistol, or even striking the creature, she only smiles, revealing crooked front teeth. I have seen few free Sebaceans in my adult life, and in some ways this girl is as alien to me as her assorted clientèle.
She stops at my table, bending forward slightly to display her assets to full advantage and flashes that crooked-toothed smile once more. She balances the tray on one shoulder now, the muscles of her arm tensed but not trembling. "Shall I bring you a meal?"
I nod, and before I can ask about where I might find a spool of solder, she scurries away, darting behind the bar and through a door flap in the hung canvas wall.
"My friend!" A voice as smooth and strong as well-aged raslak cuts through the noise. "I hardly recognized you sitting up and fully clothed."
Without being invited, a man I do easily recognize slides into a chair at my table. He has a heavy limp, and when he sits, his weak leg sprawls awkwardly to the side as if it will not bend properly. If any of the other patrons are shocked by his crass insinuation, they give no sign. I suspect most of them are too absorbed in their own conversations to care.
"Phendrik. I appreciate your timely assistance."
He waves both hands in front of his face. "No matter, no matter. We are practically brothers, you and I. Surely cousins at least, Bialar Crais."
I wince at the sound of my own name and feel a rising surge of panic. "Then the reward beacons have preceded me?"
He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head in puzzlement, but before he can reply, the girl returns with a heavily laden tray and sets a plate and a mug in front of me. Phendrik catches her wrist after she releases the mug.
Still balancing the tray on one shoulder with her free hand, she twists his arm behind his head and pulls hard enough to elicit a whimper from him. "What did I tell you about touching me?"
"Ah! I thought you were joking!" Phendrik squirms, which only causes her to twist harder. "Please, Mari, let me go!"
She releases him and then turns to serve drinks to a pair of hairy, three-armed beings.
Phendrik half-turns in his chair and glares at her back. "Worthless frelling tralk..." He shakes his head and turns back to face me with his holochip smile. "What's this about reward beacons?"
I wave a hand. "A jest in the same vein as yours, and clearly of equal humor. Forgive my foolishness. I was merely surprised you remembered my name."
"The world is a small place, Bialar, the number of boys selected smaller still. Two brothers, both granted the honor? You were remembered." His smile widens, but his eyes tighten.
I snort. "A dubious honor at best. Enough of the past. I need a coil of solder and directions to a Leviathan salvage area. Care to do business?"
Phendrick nods. "I can help you. Coordinates for my shop are on the holochip. It has been good to see you again, my friend." He rises, leaning heavily on the back of his chair as he gains his footing, and limps out the door. If he had any thoughts of eating here, Mari no doubt dispelled them with her show of force.
As I eat the food on my plate, I regret coming here. After the Titanium Drannit, it will be difficult to return to space rations. I should have spared myself from yet another reminder of the cost of living as a fugitive.
Mari returns to take my plate, piling it atop a stack of others on her tray.
"You're strong enough to be a Peacekeeper," I comment. "And vicious enough, picking on a cripple like Phendrick."
She rolls her eyes. "I am a Peacekeeper, starting next weeken. They're recruiting volunteers now. Phendrik didn't like hearing that when I told him. He wants me to stay here, though the way he had of showing me wasn't exactly nice. So don't feel sorry for that pathetic frellnik."
"Phendrik is right. You have an honest living here. No matter what you think you will accomplish, it is not worth what you will lose." I don't expect her to listen, but I feel compelled to warn her anyway.
"What I think I'll accomplish? How about personal security detail for Captain Legrain? That's my assignment. I know what you're thinking, by the way, and it's only half right. I'm a marksman. You see any Protean rats around here?"
"Rats?" I repeat.
"Exactly! I hunt them down for the bounty. Hunted them, anyway. I kind of put myself out of business there." She shrugs, causing the stack of plates to rattle and teeter alarmingly.
"For a price, I could bring you a crate of Protean rats for target practice." I smile, but I am only half-joking. My few coins are trickling away all too rapidly, and I will have to find transport work for Talyn.
"You don't get it, do you? I want better than being groped by members of every species in the uncharted territories, dancing on tables, and shooting rats."
"Then perhaps you have made the correct choice. You'll be shooting members of every species in the uncharted territories and getting groped by the rats above you in the chain of command. And Peacekeepers don't dance."
She frowns and tilts her head to one side. "Surely to celebrate a victory..."
I shake my head. "We celebrated by getting drunk and passing around our battle trophies. I know where from I speak, Mari. I did not have a choice. You do."
"Dren. Like I'd listen to a frelling deserter. Oh, don't worry. I won't turn you in. Sebacean brotherhood and all that. I do have a sense of honor."
She pivots and walks away. She probably doesn't hear me say, "It's one of the first things they'll take from you."