and more his bodyguards.
“He’s still there, but I’m getting concerned about the growth of his following,” Adam remarked. “It seems that he has an ever expanding legion of peons and pissants. If we get spotted here, we may be in for more of a fight than what we bargained for.”
“Then keep your head down and try not to be seen,” she advised. She wanted to crane her head around the side of the booth and observe the action for herself. Instead, she began mentally marking her avenues of assault, in case a gunfight was unavoidable. With a limited view of the bar, however, she returned to her role of watching the door. After a few minutes of watching, one Avalon was all that entered, his wings ragged and his clothes dirty. He walked past all the tables and took a spot on the opposite end of the bar from Cardax. If this was to be her reconnaissance duty for the night, it would be a long night indeed.
“The waitress is coming back,” Adam warned, mere moments before the older woman reappeared with two metal mugs in her hand. She gracelessly dropped the mugs on the table, sloshing pungent brown liquor onto the table. Adam handed her a five-piece note and shooed her on her way.
Leaning forward, Adam sniffed his mug. “This smells awful!” he exclaimed, his nose twitching as though he were fighting off the urge to sneeze. “This is exactly why you should always give me a chance to find out our options before ordering a drink. I don’t know if this is Lithid Uapa or a Yulon home brew, though I believe that both of them are capable of melting through the hull of a ship,” he muttered to himself.
Keryn didn’t seem to hear his complaints. She looked into her own glass and immediately recoiled as something sinister surfaced in the liquid. “I’m not sure what this is,” she began, “but there is no way in the known universe that you are going to get me to drink this.”
Laughing, Adam shrugged. “We can always take it home with us and use it to clean our weapon parts.”
“My weapon hasn’t even done anything bad enough to deserve treatment like this,” she said, horrified. “I mean, there’s actually something floating in my drink.”
Adam raised his eyebrow in curiosity. He reached across, grabbing her glass and tilting it toward him, spilling a little more of the liquor onto the table. It quickly congealed into a sticky mess.
“I’m at a loss. I have no idea what this is,” he said as he let go of her glass and pulled his arm back across the table. As he did, his elbow nudged his own mug, which went spiraling off the side of the table and struck the ground, dumping out its contents onto the boot of a passing patron.
“Hey,” the patron yelled, “watch what the hell you’re doing! Do you know who I am?”
Adam reached down to pick up his mug. “I’m really sorry, it was an accident.” He looked up at the plump Terran as he retrieved his fallen glass. “Maybe I can give you some money for new…”
Both Adam and the Terran paused in mid sentence. Adam immediately recognized the Terran, though last time they had seen each other, the Terran had been firing a pistol at him while covering Cardax’s escape from Pteraxis.
“You!” the Terran hissed, flinging back his coat and reaching for the pistol strapped to his leg.
Adam reached for the rifle under his coat, but couldn’t maneuver the long weapon while leaning over out of the booth. He lunged backward in an attempt to bring the rifle to bear, but found himself, instead, staring down the barrel of the Terran’s loaded handgun. Stuck in the narrow booth with no hope of getting to his rifle, Adam squeezed his eyes shut and awaiting the gunshot. The gunshot reverberated in the confines of the booth and Adam jerked involuntarily. Moments later, however, he realized that he hadn’t been shot and quickly opened one eye.
Keryn sat across the table from him, her pistol free from its holster and smoke rolling from its barrel. He turned his head, opening his other eye, and watched Cardax’s crewman stagger as red blood flowed freely from a bullet hole in his chest. He finally collapsed into a chair at a nearby table, which broke under his weight. His body floundering, he finally came to rest on the floor amid the wreckage of the wooden seat and lay still. Complete silence permeated the room as the patrons looked back and forth from the body to the two armed soldiers in the booth, Adam finally getting his rifle free from his coat. In unison, the bar erupted into chaos as patrons stampeded for the door as Cardax and his men drew their weapons.
“Get out of the booth, now!” Keryn screamed as gunfire erupted and the back of the booth above her head disappeared under a volley of bullets and shattering wood.
Keryn leapt from the bench, skidding across the dirty floor until she found herself partially concealed behind a table. Kicking the closest table legs, she flipped it down until it was able to provide some cover to the incoming volley of rounds. She had taken a quick inventory of the room as she was moving to better cover and knew that she and Adam were outnumbered nearly six to one. She didn’t like the odds, but she’d been in worse situations.
Adam leaned around the destroyed booth wall and fired his rifle. Flames jumped from the front of the barrel as its slugs tore into one of Cardax’s men who had jumped down from one of the stools. The force of the blast sent him tumbling over the bar, smashing through the discarded glasses and bottles. Adam quickly returned to what remained of the booth as they started firing again.
“What happened to stealth?” Adam yelled to Keryn as he fired a couple more rounds at the bar.
“Shut up and keep firing!” she yelled back as she reloaded her pistol. The table that she was behind was quickly being torn to pieces. She recoiled as a large hole appeared near her head and she was pelted with shards of destroyed wood. Someone at the bar had a large caliber rifle and was using it to demolish the poorly crafted furniture in the middle of the room.
“Shoot them,” Cardax screamed angrily as he flipped over a table of his own and took cover.
Keryn bolted from behind her table and ran for the booths on the far side of the room, firing wildly at the bar as she did. After the first couple crewmen had died, the others had wisely joined Cardax behind tables and the bar itself, using the furniture for cover. Most of her rounds went wide anyway as she ran, striking the wall and shattering liquor bottles, but it kept her enemies suppressed behind their tables while she was exposed. Diving into one of the booths, the gunfire quickly returned.
She could hear the roar of Adam’s modified rifle and knew that he was still fighting, though she knew that things were about to get worse for the two of them. Neither one had been in a good position to start a gunfight nor had their defensive positions improved after they became separated. If they didn’t find a way out of the bar soon, neither of them would walk out of the bar alive. To emphasize her concern, the large caliber rifle fired again, this time removing a significant section of the booth wall behind which she had taken cover.
Counting the bursts of gunfire, Keryn waited until the automatic rifles stopped firing as they reloaded, then leaned back around the booth. Her first round struck one of the riflemen as he reloaded, her shot hitting him in his shoulder and sending him spinning. Her second shot struck the same rifleman in the spine as he turned around, dropping him limply to the floor. As the other rifleman brought his machine gun to bear, she jerked back behind cover.
“Kill them both,” Cardax yelled through the din of gunfire. “If you want on my crew, you will bring me both their heads!”
Keryn dropped the magazine from her pistol and counted the bullets she had left. She grimaced as she realized she only had five shots left in this magazine and only one more full magazine on her belt. At the rate they were going, she would be out of ammo long before they were out of enemies. She glanced across the room at Adam. Through the haze of smoke and gunfire, she could see him huddled against what remained of the booth, crouched down under cover as he reloaded his rifle. His sneer reflected her feelings: they were in trouble.
Behind the bar, the bartender stood with his large caliber rifle; the other three men crouched near the liquor cabinet quietly cheered him on as they reloaded. He took aim at the rightmost booth, the one behind which the woman was hiding. Though the man with the rifle on the left had done more damage to the building, it was the accuracy of the woman’s pistol that had killed more of the men. He tucked the stock of the rifle firmly beneath his arm and took aim. Motion from the corner of his eye made him hesitate and he spun to the end of the bar. Standing there, looking worn and tired, stood an Avalon, his wings tattered and dingy. The bartender vaguely remembered the Avalon drinking at the bar before the gunfight began and was surprised that he hadn’t fled with the rest of the patrons.
“Get your ass down unless you want it shot off,” he growled at the Avalon, who looked up him with an emotionless face. “Are you deaf?” the bartender snarled, leaning toward the Avalon who stood rigid beside the bar. “I told you to get down!”
The Avalon’s hand shot out. The pale anemic fingers elongated as he struck, transforming into a jet black hand ending in razor sharp claws. His clawed fingers pierced through the bartender’s throat and severed the artery in the man’s neck. Blue blood poured from the bartender’s neck, spraying the bottles behind him and pooling on the
