Take The Star Road (The Maxwell Saga) (2 page)

"Hell, yeah!" Louie came to his feet, wincing as he wiped blood from his forehead with his free hand. "You chase a Tong bladesman, you might catch him - and his buddies, too!"

"Tong?" Steve walked back towards his boss, his heart racing, feeling the blood pound in his head as adrenaline surged through his system.

"I'll explain later. Just wait here - and put down that pig-sticker while I deal with this mess."

Steve tossed the stiletto at his boss's feet. "OK. You calling the cops?"

Louie snorted.
"Bugger
the cops! I pay them squeeze to stay the hell
away
from me! There are better ways to handle this."

Louie's eye muscles twitched and he blinked as he used his facial reflexes and the projected display of his Personal Intelligent Assistant on a contact lens to place a call, covering the four attackers on the deck with his pistol all the while. As he did so, Steve looked down at the blood flowing from his slashed arm. He suddenly realized how desperately close he'd come to being killed. Trembling slightly, he had to lean against the saloon wall as the emotional reaction sent shivers up and down his legs.

Louie said simply, "Brackmann here. I've just been attacked by the Lotus Tong. We put down four. Two ran, including their leader." He listened a moment, then nodded as he said, "I'll be out front. The man on his feet is with me. The four on the deck are Lotus."

He blinked again to terminate the call, then looked at Steve. "Help's on the way."

Without waiting for a reply, he walked over to the first man he'd felled, who was still rolling on the deck, groaning, clutching his knee. Steve could see from its outline beneath the man's trousers that his patella had been dislocated by Louie's stamping kick. He was clearly in agony, but that didn't stop Louie kicking him very hard in the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. Turning, Louie did the same to each of Steve's victims, whether they were moving or not. Steve could see that the face of the man he'd hit on the head with the hilt of the stiletto dagger had gone gray. A trickle of blood flowed from the depression in his skull down onto the steel of the passage floor. He didn't appear to be breathing, but Louie kicked him anyway.

"There. They won't be going anywhere now."

Steve hadn't expected such casual, ruthless brutality from his employer. His face must have showed it, because Louie continued, "Don't fool yourself, Steve. These guys are as dangerous as they come." He returned his pistol to its holster concealed beneath his waistcoat. "A Tong bladesman will either kill you, or die trying - and if you hold him off, you've humiliated him, so he'll try even harder. There's only one way to deal with them, and that's permanently."

Steve boggled. "You mean you're going to
kill
them? In cold blood?"

"No, I'm going to hand them over to the Dragon Tong. It's a much more dangerous outfit than the Lotus - the kind of Tong they'd love to be, but never will." He came over and examined Steve's arm. "Let me put a dressing on that, and on my head. Soon as we've taken care of business, I'll send you over to Doc Lima's place. He's had plenty of practice in dealing with this sort of thing, and he knows how to keep his mouth shut." He clapped Steve on the back. "Thanks, youngster. Without your help, I reckon I'd be dead, or wishing I was. I don't know where you learned to fight like that, but you're a real tiger in a scrap!"

Louie brought a first-aid kit from behind the bar, applied a hemostatic dressing to his forehead, then cut off the sleeve of Steve's coveralls and cleaned his wound. As he worked, Steve asked, "About these... Tongs, you called them?"

"They go back to well before the Space Age. There were two types of underground groups in what was then China, and in overseas Chinese enclaves. The Triads were criminal gangs. The Tongs started as community organizations, but a lot of 'em became Triads in all but name. The Dragon Tong's one of the biggest, and probably the most feared across the settled galaxy - with good reason! They specialize in interstellar crime networks. The Lotus Tong's just a small-time local outfit, as far as I know. They're certainly not among the big names."

"How did you get tied in with the Dragon Tong - or shouldn't I ask?"

"Just don't blab about it. I do some favors for the Dragons, getting people and things onto and off the planet if they don't want to use their own channels. I make available one of our private rooms now and then for some of their big shots to meet, with good food and drink and a few entertainers. In return, they watch my back."

"I get it." Steve looked again at the man he'd hit on the head with the knife hilt. "That one... he's not breathing."

"No. I reckon you stopped his clock for him. You feeling bad about it?"

"Well... yeah. I never killed anyone before." Steve wouldn't admit that his stomach was churning, but it was obvious to anyone looking at him. "I... I don't know what to say. Does that make me a murderer, Mr. Brackmann?" He gazed appealingly at his boss.

Louie looked him straight in the eye. "Steve, you're young and innocent. You've never run into this sort of criminal cesspit before, and you don't like the smell. I don't either, and I only hang around the edges - I don't do anything
real
bad, just dodge taxes where I can, and smuggle a little something now and again. Still, I know enough about evil to know that you're no murderer.
He
was trying to kill
me
, and he'd have killed you, too, if you hadn't stopped him. You defended me and yourself. You did only what
he forced you
to do.
You
didn't choose to do wrong -
he
did, and he died because he made that choice. His death's on his own head. That wasn't murder; it was self-defense."

"Well... yeah, I guess... but the cops will still arrest me if they find out, won't they?"

Louie sniggered. "They won't. I told you I pay 'em squeeze. Their security cameras covering this part of Entertainment Alley don't work, and they don't patrol here except at times I know about, so I can hide anything I don't want 'em to see. They'll never even
hear
about this little shindig, much less come looking for those involved. The Dragon Tong will clean up the mess. Within half an hour there'll be no sign that anything ever happened here. You're not going to be arrested for anything. The only accuser you'll have will be your own conscience. You've just got to harden yourself to reality, that's all - and life doesn't get much more real than defending us both from strong-arm crooks and killers!"

"When you put it like that... I guess you're right." Steve still felt a little sick to his stomach, but he also felt obscurely comforted.

As Louie finished applying a bandage, another van pulled up, its gel-filled tires rumbling gently over the steel surface, electric motor whining softly. Six men climbed out, all short and stocky like their attackers, and - also like them, now that Steve had time to notice - all visibly of Far Eastern or Asian extraction. Five began loading the still-motionless attackers and their weapons into the cleaning van on the far side of the passageway. The sixth came over to Louie.

"Our profound apologies that we were not aware of these men's presence until your call, Mr. Brackmann. We should have found out about them earlier, in time to prevent this." His voice was formal, even stilted, his words carefully enunciated. Steve thought to himself,
Sounds like Galactic Standard English isn't his first language
.

"It's my fault, not yours," Louie reassured him. "These guys tried to strong-arm me into a protection racket earlier today. I should have called you right away, but I figured they were bluffing and told 'em to get lost. I didn't realize the Lotus Tong was serious."

"They identified themselves as Lotus?"

"Yeah. The boss - he ran for it along with his surviving man, up that alley there - he told me earlier that the Lotus Tong was expanding into the orbital trade from its base on the planet."

"I see. We shall... discuss this... with the Lotus Tong this very day. They must be reminded not to entertain ambitions above their proper station, which is the gutter. One or more of these men will tell us where to go, and whom to seek." The speaker's voice was quiet, but something in the slow, silky smoothness of his tone made Steve shiver involuntarily, threatening to restart the tremors in his legs.

The man noticed, and turned, looking at him. "This one helped you?"

"Yeah. This is Steve Maxwell. He works for me part-time, cleaning up at weekends. I'd just let him out and was about to lock up when they jumped me. He put down three of them, and I stopped the other one."

"For one who is unarmed to stand with you against six armed attackers shows either great foolishness, or great courage. Which is it, young man?" There was a glimmer of humor in the man's voice.

Steve couldn't help grinning shakily as he replied, "Probably foolishness, Sir. That's the closest I've ever come to being killed. If I never get that close again, it'll suit me fine! Luckily, I'm
nidan
, second
dan
, in karate, and I've been in a few full-contact, no-holds-barred, multi-partner
kumite
and matches."

"Ah! That explains your survival, and Mr. Brackmann's. You have earned the gratitude of the Dragon Tong for helping him. We value our association with him, and you did our job for us in protecting him. We shall be in touch shortly to reward your assistance."

"That won't be necessary, Sir. I just did what was put in front of me to do."

"Rewarding good and faithful service is always necessary. This reward will be all the sweeter because we shall make the Lotus Tong pay it, which is only just, after all." He transferred his gaze to the saloon-keeper. "The Lotus Tong also owes you compensation for this incident, Mr. Brackmann. We shall see to it that they pay."

"Thanks."

They watched as the new arrivals drove both vans down the passage and around a corner. Louie sighed as they disappeared from sight. "Those four won't bother anyone ever again. Take my advice. Never,
ever
get crosswise with the Dragon Tong. There's no future in it!"

"I believe you, Sir. The way that man spoke... it sent a shiver down my spine."

"He's likely the most dangerous person you've ever met. He's the Red Pole, or leader of enforcers, of the local branch of the Tong on this Terminal. Not a man to mess with. Anyway, Steve, I owe you. I know you want a spacer apprentice berth, and I'll do all I can to help you find one, but until then, you're on the full-time payroll here."

Steve couldn't hold back a fervent grin of relief. "Thanks, Mr. Brackmann. I've been living hand-to-mouth for almost six months. It'll be great to earn enough to eat more regularly!"

Louie led the way back into the saloon, and walked around behind the bar. He took a blank credit chip from a drawer, inserted it into a socket in the till, and tapped a series of instructions before removing it and handing it to Steve. "I've put two thousand neodollars on this. Use it to pay Doc Lima, then buy some decent shirts, trousers and shoes, the sort of thing you can wear while working the front of the house here - you know my standards. No more kitchen or busboy duties for you! Buy yourself a good meal with the last of the money. I don't want to see any change."

"Will do, Sir. Thank you very much."

"Come in tonight at eighteen. You won't be able to do too much until that arm's healed up, but we'll find something to keep you busy." He opened the high-value liquor cabinet. "If you feel like I do right now, you could use a drink. Ever learned to appreciate good Scotch?"

"Er... I don't know, Sir. I never had any before."

"Then I won't waste it on you yet. Scotch is an acquired taste - you'll appreciate it more as you grow older. There's a brandy-and-orange liqueur here that's not bad at all, and better suited to younger taste-buds." He poured a healthy measure from a dark brown bottle into a glass, slid it across the bar, then half-filled a second glass with Scotch. "A good belt helps to settle the nerves after something like that."

Steve took a cautious sip. His eyes widened as the rich liqueur slid smoothly over his tongue and down his throat, warming everything in passing. "Gee, this is good!"

"At five hundred neodollars a bottle, it had damn well
better
be good!" Louie took a generous mouthful from his own glass, and shuddered slightly as he swallowed it.
"Aah!
That hit the spot!" He took a sealed whisky bottle from the cabinet and placed it on the bar. "That's Doc Lima's favorite tipple. Tell him it's from me, to apologize for waking him so early. I'll call him as soon as you leave, so he'll be expecting you."

"Will do, Sir."

"OK, Steve. Drink up, then be off with you. I'll see you tonight."

Chapter 2: January 22nd, 2837 GSC

As he locked the store-room behind him, Steve couldn't help worrying.
I haven't screwed up like this before - at least, not with Louie
, he thought nervously to himself.
What's he going to do? I've seen him lose his temper with other people over incompetence or stupidity - and I guess this qualifies!
He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. There was only one way to find out. Pointless dithering would only delay the inevitable, and might make it worse.