13 Degrees of Separation (77 page)

Rick had snorted. “Well, it's true!”

“Oh shut up!” Penny had called from the back room.

“I think the girl's worth it kid. Just don't make a habit
of it or you'll burn out.”

“Yeah. And I can't do that during our busy time. Gotcha
boss,” Jerald said, glad his sober up was finally kicking in.

“Right. Now, get the lead out, we've got customers kid,”
Rick said, nodding to the door as people entered. “Shift's ending.”

“Right,” Jerald sighed, looking at the patrons.

...*...*...*...*...

“Jerald, can you handle table four?” Br'n asked, clacking
her mandibles in annoyance.

“Sure. Problem?” Jerald asked, looking at the Veraxin and
then to the indicated table.

“Just a bad vibe. I don't like the way those three humans
look at me.”

“Oh?”

“Hostile. I can smell their hostility,” the Veraxin
chittered.

Jerald frowned and then nodded slowly. “Sure,” he said,
taking the stub.

“You're a treat,” the Veraxin replied. “Oh and table three
needs to be bussed,” the Veraxin said.

“Thanks,” Jerald sighed, shaking his head as the Veraxin
left him.

“Problem?” Penny asked, leaning over to him.

He shrugged looking at the older woman. “No, just wondering
if I fell for a trick or not,” he replied as he grabbed his cart. He went over
to table three and started working on policing the dishes.

“Hey waitress!” one of the patrons at table four said. He
waved to Penny. Penny ignored him.

“I'll help you gentlemen,” Jerald replied, straightening.
“Your waitress went on break,” he said.

The trio turned to look at him. He could feel their eyes,
cool, cold and calculating. “We don't want her, we want the human.”

“You have a problem with Veraxins?” Jerald asked, raising
an eyebrow. He crossed his arms, seeing Rick out of the corner of his eye catch
the message of a problem in the works. Rick slowed his cleaning and paid more
attention to the lad. He'd come to trust Jerald's ability to spot and sometimes
head off problem drunks. The trio hadn't been in the bar for long though, and
each had only had one drink.

“Yeah. Keep the bug away from us,” one of the men snarled.
He was a weasel faced man with stringy blond hair pulled back in a tight pony
tail that went down his back. He had a tattoo on his neck and kept his hands in
his lap.

“She is an efficient worker trying to support her family,”
Jerald replied neutrally. But if you have a problem I'll handle your table for
the evening,” he said.

“Damn straight. I ain't putting up with no damn bugs.
Creepy things,” the older male said, looking around. “Someone should squish her.

Jerald listened with a practiced ear, there wasn't any
slurring or any other sign of drunkenness in that surely statement. He frowned
but didn't respond. “Can I take your order?” he asked politely, sticking to the
script. He took a pad and pen out of his pocket.

“Yeah, give me a double. And a steak. A real one,” the
smaller guy said. “About as big as your hand and not a damn synthesteak.
They're rubber,” he grumbled.

“I've tried them. They do leave a lot to be desired,”
Jerald replied with a grimace.

“Not from around here?” the leader asked.

Jerald shook his head. “Fresh in from New Haven.”

“Oh?” the leader asked, sitting back. He drummed one hand
on the table. “What's it like?”

“Agro world,” Jerald replied with a shrug. “One big city of
a couple thousand, the capital. Everyone is dour and boring. I got bored and
wanted to see the bigger picture.”

“I see.”

“Are there a lot of aliens there?” the second man said,
grimacing as his hostile eyes tracked the Veraxin.

“Some. Mostly Veraxin, a few Gashg. They're great farmers.
They usually stick to the equator and jungles however. I didn't see many in my
town,” Jerald replied. He took the leader's drink and then looked at the order
he had written. “I'm not sure about the steak, I'll have to ask Rick if we have
any available. That's usually a special order thing. Bake potato with it?”

“Yes! With a big pad of butter this thick!” the guy said,
holding his finger and thumb about two centimeters apart. “No, make it this
big,” he said, doubling the width. “Real butter too!”

“I'll look into it,” Jerald replied nodding. He turned to
the weasel faced third man. “And for you sir?” he asked.

“Sir,” the man snorted and then looked up. “Just a power
bar and some napkins. Water,” he said. He shifted to one side and Jerald noted
the handle of a blade tucked in the man's hand. That immediately set him on
guard.

“Very well,” Jerald said, nodding. “Will there be anything
else?” he asked. The men looked at each other and then shook their heads.
Jerald nodded. “Okay then, that's one steak, one baked potato, a double vodka,
a power bar, and more napkins. I'll see what I can do,” he said and pushed his
cart away.

“Will you put that damn thing away?” the leader hissed.
Jerald fought the urge to look back.

“What? He didn't see it. I'm good,” the weasel man's voice
replied.

“That's not the point. You aren't going to do something
stupid. We've got a mission. Focus on that. Leave the damn bug alone. That's an
order.”

“But...”

“No. Now knock it off,” the leader growled. Jerald frowned
as he turned and backed through the back door into the kitchen. He nodded to
Rack'th who was their chef. “Can you believe these guys want a real steak and
bake potato?” he said putting the paper up in the overhead and using a magnet
to hold it to the metal ring hanging from the ceiling.

“You kidding me? What they got credits to burn? Why come
here for that?”

“Not sure. But I don't like these guys. They don't like
Veraxins for one thing,” Jerald replied.

“Oh? Well gee, fresh out of steak,” the Veraxin chittered.

“You could spit on it,” Penny replied as she came from the
walk in fridge. “If you had lips.”

“Which I don't. Besides, that's unhygienic. I don't need
our rating going down if they are undercover health inspectors,” the Veraxin
chef replied, working on another order.

“True,” Penny said.

“I don't think they're health inspectors. Military from the
voices and what they said,” Jerald said frowning. They had had a few Marines in
the bar, he'd learned to recognize them from the haircuts or demeanor. Even
Navy service personnel were easy to spot now. But these... he frowned. The
weasel one had a pony tail, definitely something a Marine wouldn't have.

“What makes you say that?” Penny asked. “I don't remember
any ships docked or on liberty,” she said. Usually Rick went out of his way to
get the business of the military, they paid well and right off, keeping the
booking simple.

“Something they said,” Jerald replied when Penny poked him.

 The men looked rough, oddly out of place in the bar.
“Steak is only synthesteak, fresh out of real meat. We get the next order in
first of the month,” Penny informed him. She turned to the chef. “So you're off
the hook.”

“Thanks,” the Veraxin chattered. “What about the baked
tuber?”

“I'll go see,” Jerald replied.

He exited the kitchen then went to the bar. “Something up
kid?” Rick asked.

“The trio at table four. They are bug haters. Apparently
they hate any and all aliens. One was talking about cutting up Br'n.”

“Oh?” Rick asked, pouring a drink from a tap. “Going to
need another keg soon.”

Jerald nodded.

“You know the crap that goes on in here. It's all talk,”
Rick finally said.

“Yeah, but this one has a knife and is eager boss,” He
informed Rick.

“Oh? Well, I'll keep an eye on them and tell Br'n to keep
her distance,” Rick said.

Jerald frowned but got busy making the double Vodka. He
grabbed a power bar, napkins, and a basket of crackers. The barkeep was blowing
it off, but he felt that something was going on.

He made his way over to the men and their quiet talk ended
as the weasel man poked the leader and nodded his chin to the bus boy turned
waiter.

“No steak?”

“No, sorry, we're fresh out of meat. I can do the bake
potato though,” he replied, setting his tray down and distributing it's goods.

“Fine, a big one though. Fresh,” the guy grumbled. “Can't
get a decent piece of meat to save a life,” the guy grumbled under his breath.

“I'll get on that. Is there anything else gentlemen?”

“No, split kid,” the leader said. Jerald nodded and walked
off. He came back a few minutes later with the newly microwaved potato, put it
down with a pad of replicated butter, chives, and then left.

The men talked intently, picking at their food and drink.
The weasel man wrote on the napkins.

“See? No big thing kid,” Rick said with a shrug when the
men quietly went to the bar, paid their bill with gold coins and then left.

Jerald frowned and went to the table. He was annoyed that
they hadn't left a tip. He bused the table. Curious he picked up a crumpled
napkin that had fallen out of the weasel guy's pocket.

Slowly he opened it and then frowned. It took him a moment
to puzzle out the crude drawing of the fusion reactor, and then the line to the
back to the fuel storage system. There was a big X drawn and circled on the
diagram.

“Rick,” he said as he tucked his tote under his arm and
went over to the bar.”What do you make of this?” he asked, putting the bar
napkin down and smoothing it out. He set the dirty dishes down nearby.

“Ah kid, not on my bar, I just cleaned there!” Rick
complained. Jerald frowned, ignoring the complaint.

“What is it?” Liam asked, looking over. Liam was the chief
engineer of the station, Rick teased him about slumming in the bar. Liam didn't
drink, he just had a water and a quick lunch there when he wanted to get away
from the office.

“I'm not sure,” Jerald replied. He pointed to the napkin.
“I think that's a fusion reactor, but I'm not sure.”

“Okay,” the guy replied snorting. He looked over and then
nodded. “Yeah, it's one of the reactors. Not sure which though, each is a bit
different since we rebuilt them at different times and with different
materials.”

“Yeah, it's odd though, why the X?” Jerald asked.

Liam looked at the diagram, flipped it over to look at the
X and then shrugged. “No idea.”

“Could they be students?”

“Anything is possible.”

“I'll hang onto it in case they want it back,” Jerald said,
tucking the napkin in his pocket. Liam snorted and then got off his stool and
left. He waved a brief salute to Rick as he exited the bar.

...*...*...*...*...

The next day the trio returned at the same time. They sat
at a different table this time. One had a different outfit, but the other two
looked rumpled. “Damn it, do we have to sleep in the corridors?” the  one
Jerald thought of as number three asked. It wasn't quite a whine, but close.

“No choice. We have to conserve our cash. So stop getting
expensive shit like steaks,” the weasel faced man said crossly.

“Ah man,” the third grumbled.

“You know the drill. Fuck up the mission and I'll space you
myself,” the leader growled. That made Jerald stop his approach short. The
weasel noted him and nodded his chin to Jerald.

“Um, good afternoon gentlemen, how can I help you?” he
asked.

“Whiskey if you've got it,” the leader said. “Single round.
And oh, another bake potato for each of us,” he said eying the other two men.
Both nodded.

“Sure thing,” Jerald replied, writing the order down.
“Anything else?” They shook their heads no and the leader spread his hands.
“All right then, just a moment,” Jerald said and retreated.

When he returned to the table with their order he learned
that the trio of men were transients from a tramp freighter that had come from
Horathian space, the Old Nelly. When they finished their drinks and potato they
tossed a pair of coins on the table and then left.

...*...*...*...*...

Piece by piece he picked up more and more about them each
day. They only came in around lunch, sometimes before the normal lunch hour,
sometimes after. They ordered simple things after a while, usually the cheapest
thing on the menu. Their story didn't fit what he'd picked about them from
other patrons.

Yardley, a power tech regular told him they had chatted him
up when he had admitted his job. One had told Yardley that they had come in on
the Midnight MX2, which the lad knew was false, it had been a small ship and he'd
gotten to know everyone on board in the long transit here.

He grimaced, trying to think of what to do. It didn't add
up. He informed the Rick.

“You're not going to let this go are you kid?” Rick asked
amused.