“I promise I’ll never criticiseyour flying again! Just get him away from the controls!” Gillespie begged.
“Piece of pudding!” Soghraexclaimed happily.
John frowned before comprehendingSoghra’s words. “You mean cake.”
“What?” Soghra asked.
“Cake. The expression is ‘pieceof cake’.”
Soghra shrugged. “No matter.”
“You want to tell me where we’regoing?”
“Set your course for DeltaCentral. Its fourth moon has a retrograde orbit. Navigation should be…somewhere around there.” Soghra circled his hand over the approximate area.
John eventually found thenavigation systems and laid in a course. It took, so he assumed it was right.
Soghra leaned over and glanced atthe destination. “Correct.”
The next most urgent thing onJohn’s list was to find an autopilot and get Soghra away from the controls.
The Ruscatan looked a littledisheartened as John found and engaged the autopilot. John relaxed back intohis seat. Soghra folded his arms across his chest, drumming the fingers of onehand on the opposite bicep.
“How long?” John asked, acutelyaware of their timeframe.
“An hour or two.”
Equally important to all of themwas what they were going to do when they got there.
“We’re not going to be popular,”Gillespie hinted.
“Yeah, I know.” It was one ofthe rare occasions John wished he didn’t have his uniform on. A quick searchof the shuttle didn’t bring up any alternatives.
* * *
The fourth moon of Delta Centralwas a bustling little place. Its synchronous orbit kept one side facing itsplanet. Soghra set the shuttle down in a quiet spot in the gloom of its edge. To one side of them, the sliver of sun hinted at its warmth while their otherside fell into increasing blackness.
John checked his pockets. “Gotany currency?” he asked Gillespie.
“I told you, he wiped me out.” Gillespie shook his head.
Soghra reached into his shirtpocket and pulled out a handful of currency. He flicked through the notesbefore grudgingly handing some over. “Do not spend it all.”
John took the money and pocketedit with the list of haunts Soghra had scribbled down for him on the way. Hechecked his watch. “Back here in three hours?”
Soghra nodded and slipped out ofthe shuttle into the darkness.
The first place looked like ithad a bit of class. The façade was clean and tidy; no broken or crackedwindows. The clientele did not have the same class as John stepped around abody on entering. A trickle of blood stained the floor and the eyes staredblankly at the ceiling.
He ran his gaze over the place,reasoning his translator would only identify about half the languages beingspoken, before making his way to the bar. Several barkeeps darted around eachother, attending to orders, calling out well used lines to those who objectedto waiting, clearing glasses and wiping down the bar.
“What’ll it be?”
The response was automatic. Eyesbarely meeting John’s before overseeing the room was the only indication he wasthe one being spoken to.
John ran over the labels on theshelves behind the bar and spotted a couple that were familiar. Pickinganything non alcoholic – if there were such a thing in this place – was notgoing to win him any brownie points.
“Andurian rum.”
The barkeep hesitated, took thebottle from the shelf, reached under the bar for a clean glass, placed it onthe bar in front of John, uncapped the bottle and poured.
“Not many choose this.”
“They don’t know what they’remissing.”
The barkeep glanced at theuniform. “You’re a long way from home.”
John pulled out a couple ofnotes. “Got some business this way.”
“Then I suggest you get on withyour business and keep moving.”
The barkeep took the money, tilledit and brought him his change, then moved on to the next patron.
Ten minutes and an empty glassand the barkeep wasn’t returning. John glanced to the other end of the barwhere Gillespie was trying his luck. He’d been shut down as well.
John flicked his eyes towards thedoor. Gillespie’s head moved in the barest of nods, and they made their wayout of the place.
“Any luck?” John asked as theyhit the cold of the night.
“Nup. Mentioned the name… Thought I was going to have to duck.”
*
Two hours later they were nobetter off. No one had seen Roppa or knew his whereabouts. At least, that’swhat they were saying. John doubted if anyone was willing to admit otherwise. Everyone knew the game of subtlety and innuendo, and currency changing hands didn’tguarantee honesty or even an answer.
They came to a place Soghra hadlisted as ‘promising’. Inside it was well lit, but a cloud of smoke hungaround the ceiling creating a veiled effect. It was crowded and noisy, full ofwhat appeared to be the lowlife of the galaxy. Not unlike one or two otherplaces they had visited.
The bar ran along a side wall. They found a couple of empty stools and sat down. The barkeep, whose method ofsorting out disputes was to crack together the heads of two patrons who arguedabout which of them was paying, was with them shortly.
“What do you want?”
He avoided eye contact, hisattention remaining on the room, though John noted his eyes had narrowed andhis brow furrowed momentarily as he had caught sight of the uniformsapproaching.
“Information,” John answeredcautiously. Subtlety had died out several bars earlier.
“Have a drink.”
Every place they had visitedseemed to have the same requirement. Much more and John doubted his ability tothink clearly.
He searched his pockets. He wasalmost broke. He ordered and paid, the barkeep eyeing the money longer thanwas necessary. That was a good sign. John took his time putting the changeaway.
“I’m looking for Keel Roppa.” Hespoke quietly, watching the barkeep for any signs of knowledge.
“You and every other bountyhunter in this system.” He laughed to himself. “Take my advice. Chase thenext one on your list. You’re out of your depth with Roppa.” He left them toattend to more pressing business.
“That seems to be the generalconsensus,” Gillespie noted.
“I hope Soghra’s having moreluck.” John turned slightly to look around the room. A sudden thump on theback jolted him forward, almost spilling his drink on Gillespie.
“You’re in my seat!” The lowgrowl was explanation of the assault.
“I’m sorry
