John was not about to getinvolved in any arguments and moved to stand. A second thump on the backnearly knocked him over. Gillespie caught him.
John steadied himself. “Let meguess. He’s big… hairy… and ugly?”
Gillespie nodded at eachadjective.
“And he wants to wipe the floorwith me?”
John was not looking forward tothe inevitable confrontation. Before he could turn around, a hand grabbed hisjacket at the back of his neck and flung him across the room like a rag doll. A path miraculously cleared in front of him as he skidded across a tabletop andcrumpled on the floor.
He scrambled to his feet, stillcrouched beneath the height of the table, intending to at least get a look athis assailant. Not a race he was familiar with unfortunately though thetranslator had had no problems with the dialect. Apart from pummel him intothe ground, John had no idea what the man was likely to do.
“I don’t suppose you’d care todiscuss this like grown men,” he suggested calmly, and ducked immediately as achair skimmed over his head and shattered into the wall behind him. “I guessnot.”
He moved quickly. Too quicklyfor his opponent who came charging after him. In what had been a crowded room,a vacant area now appeared. An interested crowd of spectators began urgingthem on.
John backed away; using everyobject he could find to keep between them, skipping across tabletops toincrease the distance. Spotting an overhead light, he leapt for it, tuckinghis legs up as the man dived at him. He swung like a pendulum for a fewseconds before the light ripped from the ceiling and he fell to the floor amidceiling plaster, electrical wiring and dust.
The man’s dive found him sprawledacross an empty table. He slowly picked himself up, growling in frustration ashe swung an arm at the table and upended it.
John was on his feet as the manturned back to him, his head spinning a little from the amount of alcohol he’dconsumed. He shook his head to clear it, his eyes blinking strongly as hefocused, and he could feel his muscles tingling.
“I could do with some help.”
“I’m afraid that’s out of thequestion.” Gillespie was tightly sandwiched between two spectators who had nointention of letting him get involved. “You’re on your own.”
John swore under his breath. Thecrowd was looking for a fight and there was no way he was going to get out ofit. He took a deep breath and assessed his opponent in the remaining secondbefore he was charged. He used his speed to his advantage. A series ofwell-executed strikes supported with blocks and counters had him temporarilycontrolling the situation and his opponent on the back foot. He knew that oneconnecting blow from the man would change that.
A sudden ramming charge backed Johninto a table he didn’t know was there. He fell back onto it; his feet came uptoo slowly to stop the man from landing on top of him. The table tipped,sending them both head first to the floor.
The crowd came alive at thereversal. John was winded by the crushing weight. He gasped heavily forbreath. His forearms protected his head and the fists began pummelling on hisrib cage.
He didn’t realise it had stoppeduntil he found himself upright and completely off the floor. He instinctivelystruck out behind, taking the impact with his forearm as he was slammed againstthe wall. His hand and fingers stung.
A huge fist had a handful of hisjacket front, pinning him to the wall as the second fist drew back behind theman’s head, a look of sheer delight on his face as his eyes lit up and hissmile showed broken and blackened teeth, and lined up the blow.
John’s arms came up as the fistmoved forward.
“Put him down!”
The voice could be heard clearlyabove the noise of the room, and it commanded obedience. The man hesitated inmid punch. John’s connecting blows to his face missed their target as the headturned, though it turned back just as quickly. The glare burned through Johnas the fist lined up again.
Roppa pushed his way through thecrowd; those who knew him stepped aside immediately. He strode directly toJohn, his manner calm as he repeated. “Put him down.”
The man dropped John to his feetand turned to face Roppa. One glance was all that was needed to read thethreat on the Skaren’s face. He backed away slowly, a low rumbling growlemanating from somewhere inside him.
“Go back to your business,” Roppaflashed at the crowd. “There will be no death tonight.”
John’s eyes widened. Fight,yes. Death wasn’t on his plan. He caught his breath as the sweat began toflow and he turned to make sure another attack wasn’t on the cards.
The disgruntled crowd was nolonger interested. The man took his seat at the bar, a brief look of contemptthrown at John before he turned away, snatched up a glass and skolled itscontents. Gillespie twisted his shoulders and squeezed his way clear.
Roppa turned back to John. “Areyou all right?”
“Fine,” John muttered hoarsely. He gasped for air, his ribs aching with each breath. “Friend of yours?”
“No. He fears me… I hear youhave been looking for me.”
“You hear correctly… Gotsomewhere we can talk?”
Roppa nodded and headed to thefar end of the bar. John followed closely. Roppa spoke to the barkeep, whounlatched a small entry door, allowing them through the bar to a small room outthe back. John hesitated, waiting for Gillespie.
“Just you,” Roppa told him. “Your companion will be safe out here.”
John felt he wasn’t in a positionto argue. He sank into the nearest chair. As his body cooled down, he beganto feel the full extent of his beating.
“Why do you look for me?” Roppahad no intention of wasting time.
“My ship and crew have beenkidnapped.” John moved uneasily in his seat. “The ransom is you.”
All signs of friendlinessdisappeared from Roppa’s face as he took this in. Then he suddenly burst outlaughing. “And you expect to take me back?”
“No.” John spoke slowly,deliberately. “I came to ask for your help. I have no intention of handingyou over, but I have every intention of getting my ship back.”
“Why should this concern me?”
“They’re being held by a bountyhunter called Daygarn.”
“Ah, yes.” Roppa’s handunconsciously rose
