“Looks like I've got some early mornin' clubbin' ta do,” Frost said as he took to his feet and grabbed his gun belt. He was still strapping it on as he stepped out the door.
The express car let out just around the corner from Oota Galoona. Between the dimly lit hall and the name he could only assume that the observation lounge had been renamed by an issyrian. Frost took his time, resting his palm on the pommel of his sidearm, surveying the hall as he came around the corner.
Things had quieted down, the observation lounges, quickly becoming clubs and old fashioned bars despite intoxicant rationing, were always quietest the hour or two before the end of a shift. The graveyard watch would be ending in less than two hours and he couldn't imagine why the impostor would be there over six hours after his shift had ended or how he could keep drinking for so long with rationing in place.
Double doors with the name of the establishment lettered across the front in rainbow luminescent paint marked the entrance to the main port observation lounge. He stepped in just close enough to activate them and stepped to the right so he could see inside while peeking around the corner. It didn't help.
His eye met Burke's right away. The other man had been watching the door, sitting with his back to the transparent wall so he could see anyone coming in from the right side of the entrance.
Instead of ducking for cover or bringing up security on his communicator, Frost grinned and walked straight for Burke's small booth table. “Long time! Good ta see a familiar face!” he exclaimed jovially.
The other man's panic was so utter he was struck still, his hands griped his tall dark brown glass as his jaw fell agape and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
“Morning, Chief.” Frost heard someone say from a seat by the door. It was one of his early night watch crew, the only nafalli on his staff.
“Morning Hunsler,” he acknowledged over his shoulder loud enough to be heard despite the loud, obnoxiously upbeat music playing throughout the large half circular space. It was dimly lit like the hallway outside, with three tiers leading up to the bar against one of the transparent sections of hull. Whoever had taken responsibility for reopening the lounge had chosen prime space, it was as large as the main forward observation area, able to seat at least three hundred, had a couple dozen booths for privacy and one entire wall was transparent, providing a generous view of deep space and distant stars.
Each tier had booths at the end and it was the lowest of them that Burke had chosen to nurse a drink. From the looks of him it wasn't the first. “Frost! I didn't think you'd catch up with me so soon! You got my message!”
Frost sat down and waved off a civilian servant walking towards him with a tray. His hand never left his sidearm and as he settled into the booth across from Burke he pressed down on the hilt so the end pointed directly at the other man's middle. “Now what message would that be lad?”
“Using your ident code, exempting you from the rationing. I was hoping you'd notice and help me off the ship. Shamus, you've gotta help me. I'll give you my half of your accounts, anything.”
For a long moment a grin and a raised eyebrow was Frost's only response. “Yer tellin' me ye couldn't get off the ship an' you thought hackin' into ship ident an' borrowin' me was just a flare for me ta track.” He reached out, took the other man's drink, sniffed it and put it back on the table. “That's ale you're drinkin', so unless someone put somethin' in it while you weren't lookin', you're stupid at least, drunk and stupid at most.”
“I tried to get off so I could fix things up from a safe distance, ship most of your money back over wireless, but Captain's got this boat bottled up more n' the Samson, I swear. Sure, looks loose an' busy, but everything that lifts off the deck's got someone he knows by name, everything with an engine's got someone's eye on it. Tried pryin' into a fighter and that little bitch Paula calls me out with half the deck crew behind her, didn't need help with a mouth like that; she's worse than any alarm I've heard.”
Shamus laughed and shook his head. “Paula caught you goin' down to steal a fighter? That's one for the album. Surprised she didn't get you to security.”
“Didn't come to that. Can you help me?”
“Where's Silver?”
“Don't know, we split after you got taken by Nan.”
“Taken? Ye think Nan took me?” Frost deactivated the safety on his sidearm, set the disintegration charge to maximum and made sure his firing line was at least a few centimetres away from his knee.
Even over the loud music Burke heard the unmistakable high pitched whine coming from the weapon as it greedily drew power into its capacitors. “F-Frost, I-”
Shamus pressed his finger to his lips for a moment, silencing the other man. “We don't want anyone here knowin' what you owe me, aye? Now we're goin' somewhere private to talk all about where I might find Silver, and to make a little funds transfer.”
The panic was rising up in his old friend, his eyes rolled to the door, back to Frost, out into the club and back again. “We can do it all here S-Shamus. I've got all the access I need, and I know Silver was headed coreward. That's all I know,” he begged.
“You're right, we could do it all here. I could blast you in half an' Captain would chalk it up ta old business. I don't care what any of these bastards think of me, we're no Princes, that's no mystery. Difference is here I have ta cut you apart, 'cause if someone finds out we sat down at the same table after you stole all my savings an' ran off then you walked away with nary a scratch, well, then I've lost face. 'Sides, you still hafta tell me all about how you got aboard.”
Burke squeezed his eyes shut and knitted his fingers together, white knuckled. “I'll tell you everything if we just stay here. We ran together for eight years, that's gotta count for somethin'.”
“Thought it did, then you got off an' left me hangin' by the heels with no scratch. I had to go to Nan's crew, you know what woulda happened if Captain didn't turn back an' pay for me?”
“You woulda had to work it off, that's all.”
“My arse! She'd have me strapped down and put out for chow for those damned cannibals she uses for pit fightin'! I was worth less than nothin' if Captain wouldn't agree ta a sit down.”
“I didn't… how could I know?”
“How'd ya not? We both had a record for breakin' inta ships in that system, you did those jobs with me! I couldn't even sleep in an underpass, police woulda snatched me up on a warrant no doubt, you left me there to get done in, to get done and gone! Don't even try ta pass any o' this mess onto Silver, he doesn't have the chops or stones to get into my accounts an' drain 'em.”
Burke tilted his command and control unit so Frost could see it and showed him a list of accounts. “I'll do it now, pay you back right now.”
Frost watched as he selected all his accounts and sent the funds his way. It was almost as much as had gone missing after he left the Samson. “That's a start,” he said with a tight lipped smile. When the transfer was finished he looked Burke in the eyes, they were red and watering, nervous and desperate. “Now take yer C and C off lad.”
“W-wha, I-”
“Do it.”
He followed instructions and glanced at a young man with a tray as he walked by. The young fellow's brow furrowed and interpreted the glance as a desperate summons.
Frost picked up the half arm length command and control unit off the table and dropped it on the server's tray. “Now we can get started, boyo,” he said eagerly to Burke.
“Is there a problem here?” asked the server as Burke put his head down on the table and covered it with his hands.
“My friend and I were just leavin'. Give that ta the next security man you see. It has ta go to the Security Chief herself, be sure he knows that.”
Burke rolled his head to the side and looked to the server. “Don't let him take me,” he said through brimming tears.
“Sir, I think I should call security,” the server said.
“I outrank ye by five stripes boy,” Frost said coldly. “I've a traitor right here, an' I'm takin' him in,” he stood and grabbed Burke's collar in his fist.
Burke whimpered loudly as he was pulled out of the booth and hauled to his feet. Frost jammed the barrel of his sidearm against the hinge of his jaw so hard his molars ground together.
“Sir, I really think-” the server started to insist.
