Starlaw (11 page)

“Could be.” Barst leaned toward her as he gazed deeply into her eyes.

Laurel cleared her throat and the two crew members resumed positions less close to one another. “Look, if I could borrow whatever passes for money I could order something for us to eat,” Laurel suggested, wanting to get out of their way for a few moments and have a little time to think on her own.

“That's all right. I'll take care of it,” Barst said, winking at Gemma.

Gemma snorted. “Don't listen to Mr. Chivalry, Laurel. We don't pay for our meals. The Constellation League gives us food cards. We show those to the proprietor and he gives us anything we want. The League reimburses the tavern owner,” Gemma explained. “Here, take my card and get something that looks edible. Don't feel like you can't ask what the food is. When we're on a mission, I do it all the time. There are too many dishes in the universe for anyone to know them all.”

Laurel let out a long breath and shrugged. “Okay … we'll all take our chances then.” She took the silver-colored, metallic card Gemma offered and walked the short distance to the bar. Luckily, worm guy was as affable as he looked and even helped her place her order.

She had to try harder. Gemma and Barst would go to
Commander
Ramjet
and complain about her attitude if she couldn't act normally. It angered her that she was expected to after all that'd happened.

Ordering the food quickly, she waited until it was ready and acted as though she knew exactly what to do when it was finally served on a large round, silver hovering cart. Luckily, one of the cat creatures at the end of the bar had just made a similar meal purchase and she was able to watch what he did with the tray. At least, the creature looked like a he.

God! Why is this happening to me? What the hell did I do to deserve this?

Instant remorse washed through her like a cold wind. What right did she have feeling so sorry for herself when Cory and the rest of her friends were dead?

Then a huge assumption almost brought her to her knees.

What if they weren't dead? What if she'd just been told they were? She shook her head in confusion. Why would the commander and Gemma say her comrades had been killed by something whose name sounded like the mythic vampires of old Earth legend? Why did the alien word
vamphiere
sound like a European pronunciation of the English word
vampire
? Why did that savage who'd attacked them in the park actually look like some movie version of Nosferatu?

These things were points to ponder. The longer she was among these strange beings, the more she was determined to find a way home.

Following the purple cat creature's example, she took her hover tray by one hand and gently guided it toward the table where blue girl and bear guy were happily conversing as if nothing in the universe was wrong.

Resentment almost made her tell them just where to go, using some seriously nasty descriptors in the process. But she reeled in her temper, remembering the commander's threat of what would happen if she didn't.

One minute at a time. Just breathe and hang in there. I might wake up from this nightmare any time now, and Cory and I will have a good laugh over it.

“That was wonderful,” Gemma complemented in reference to Laurel's choice of cuisine.

“I agree. I couldn't have chosen better myself,” Barst added.

“Thanks,” Laurel said. “I tried to pick something I knew wouldn't hurt us. The menu was a bit broad. There were some things on it I don't even want to talk about.”

In truth, she couldn't have cared less what they ate, but sticking to things that looked like vegetation made sense. There'd only been colored protein cubes on the ship. These were pretty damn tasteless, but they'd never made her ill. In this new environment, anything looking like meat was totally off her menu when she didn't know if she'd be eating something bovine-like or some critter that, to her, would constitute a cute house pet.

The round, silver fruit Gemma referred to as marquoi was tasty, reminding Laurel of a margarita. She'd also opted for bread that looked, amazingly enough, like a big artisan wheat loaf. Then, there was cheese the barkeep said had been rendered from ruminants on Arteia—wherever that was. Still, the cheese tasted and looked like cheese. Then, there was the flat and elongated, bright blue romada. This six-inch delicacy, that looked like some fruit roll, was actually a vegetable. Or so she was told. She'd tasted a bit and was surprised at the lentil flavor. All-in-all the food wasn't that bad. She wasn't throwing up or gasping for air. There were no signs of poisoning. That was a
good thing
—as a favorite homemaking guru always said back on Earth. They finished it all off with a bright green beverage Barst referred to as Andurian fizz. It wasn't alcoholic but did taste like sangria.

Barst wiped his mouth with his napkin. “It's probably time we headed back to the ship, he said. “If the commander hasn't shown up by now, he won't. The rest of the crew should be back on board.”

Laurel rose when Barst and Gemma did, only to find they were surrounded by angry-looking denizens. Their scowls telegraphed trouble. The one closest to them was a large, philodendron-like leafy man. To her, he smelled like moss. Only two yellow eyes distinguished his face from the fauna all around his shoulders.

“Where go you, enforcer?” plant man demanded from somewhere beneath his greenery.

“We're leaving and don't want any trouble,” Barst informed him assertively.

“You leave. Pretties stay,” plant man insisted.

Barst glanced at the two women in his company. “What do you say? Do you two want to go back to the ship, or stay here with
him
?”

“I think we'll pass,” Gemma wryly insisted.

Laurel simply nodded in agreement. Barst's query was a sarcastic response to their plant nemesis's obvious desire for women. He hadn't intended it to be serious. In asking, he'd made it clear no one wanted to trot off with a piece of musky-smelling shrubbery.

“You heard the women,” Barst said with one raised brown hand. “They can't stand being away from duty too long.”

“You
sell
,” the plant insisted.

Gemma snickered.

Barst smirked and shook his head until his brown mane fluttered around his shoulders. “As tempting as that may be, we don't sell our crew.” He then motioned for the women to head for the door.

“No leave.” The green figure waived one of its appendages and several of his friends surrounded the women. “Need women for mate on Oboreal. These very pretty,” he proclaimed.

Barst let out a sigh of frustration before cracking the knuckles of both his fists. “Look, I'm going to say this one more time. Stand back and let us pass or there's going to be trouble.”

One of the plant-like creatures grabbed Gemma and another reached for Laurel.

As a foliage-like paw closed around her wrist, Laurel saw the look on her companions' faces and knew they were a heartbeat away from a fight. Nothing was going to stop it. She planted her feet squarely and prayed she could find something in all the greenery to strike and make count. Before she threw the first punch, however, she waited for a signal telling her when to do her part. It came quickly and painfully.

Without any warning at all and despite his massive size, Barst moved like a wraith. Bear man turned and planted a big fist right in the middle of the plant leader's body.

Gemma followed Barst's lead and did the same thing to her tormentor. Laurel automatically raised one knee into what she hoped was the groin of her own attacker.

When their combined efforts worked and all three of the leafy beings were on the floor, she took a deep breath and winced. The fight was far from over.

Other strange beings approached. Some were shouting commands to leave the enforcers alone, intending to stop the fight before it went further. But some were growling their intent to pummel an enforcer; any of the three of them would do. Laurel was apparently mistaken for some part of a peacekeeping force aligned with Barst and Gemma.

Despite the differences in species and the threat in fighting so many in such a closed space, Laurel actually felt her spirits rise. This was something she knew how to do. And though a fight never ended well for those involved, the three of them clearly had no interest in starting a damn thing. She wasn't about to back off for fear of what sentient critter might barrel toward them. This was her chance to vent. It was also a way to display what an Earthling could do and she really felt like punching something as hard as possible. Now was her chance.

Several more creatures approached and the fight was in full swing.

“Behind you!” Laurel yelled as a large mushroom-looking body approached Barst from behind.

Barst swung and knocked the grayish mass to the floor.

To her left, Gemma fought a huge woman with bovine features.

Laurel turned just in time to see a very tall, half-moon shaped yellow thing—with two neon blue, stalked eyes—coming for her. There was a determined snarl on his thick-skinned face. The being reminded her of a banana with hormone issues.

Great! Gemma and Barst get to fight salad. I get to wrangle dessert!

Using martial arts skills she'd employed on the streets of San Diego, Laurel battered down banana guy with several neat, left roundhouse kicks to the midsection. To her satisfaction, his peel split right where she kicked him, and he went flying some yards backward.

The crowd circled and the action ceased for the moment.

“Anybody
else
?” Laurel invited in a mocking fashion.

She'd been taught to handle herself in a fight. Thankfully, no one had pulled any weapons or the outcome could have been disastrous.

It'd felt good to do something physical, even though the episode should never have happened. According to their inclusive comments, her comrades felt the same.

“Here, bitch! Eat
this
!” Gemma cried as she swung at a spotted woman who carelessly ventured too close. As with all the other foes, this new female attacker hit the floor hard.

Laurel knew they'd only won because a few of the idiots were really drunk. Things seemed to be winding down. But even as she and her two compatriots backed closer together for protection, Barst took the opportunity to smack one more leaf creature in the face, just for show.

Without affectation, she actually grinned for the first time since being inflicted with this entire fiasco. She noted how Barst and Gemma were smiling too, indicating maybe they'd all been cooped up too long with Commander Butthead.

Sirens blew and anyone else that might have been interested in taking them out quickly backed away. Apparently, someone had called the local authorities when the hostilities began; doors from the far end of the tavern whisked open and humanoid men with heads a few sizes too large rushed in. These newly arrived individuals were all wearing helmets and brown uniforms. Even
she
couldn't have mistaken them for anything other than local cops.

She took a deep breath and let it out. The battle was well and truly done. Unfortunately, what she assumed was the local officers' supervisor strolled from behind the cadre of enforcers. Gold embroidery on this man's gray tunic sleeves indicated someone of higher rank. Her gut started hurting when
another
, very tall, black uniformed presence strode in right behind the supervisor. This latest edition to the crowd was all too familiar; he stood head-and-shoulders above almost everyone else in the room. Darius Starlaw wore an angry scowl so deep that Laurel was sure his face would never recover its once arrogant, superior expression.

“We're gonna catch it now!” Gemma muttered.

“Yeah, but we made a damned good showing for ourselves,” Barst softly added. “That makes the punishment worth it.”

Bear man suddenly reminded Laurel of Cory. She stuffed down an impulse to cry, then squared her shoulders and prepared to face the intimidating, seven-foot presence of the commanding officer. She'd maintain they hadn't started this fight, but they had damned sure ended it! If big, tanned, and god-like commander didn't like it, he could shove it up his underwear model, perfectly shaped ass.

The three of them stood, shoulder-to-shoulder, glancing at the unconscious beings strewn about the room. No one appeared to be seriously injured. The fight had, indeed, been many to three. The seriousness of the situation was only setting in.

The Chamron enforcer superior stood beside Darius and whined loudly. “Commander Starlaw, you simply
must
control your crew. We can't have this kind of disturbance in our public ale houses.” He finished by sticking out his pompous chest, puffing his presence next to the much larger and more muscular commander by his side.

“Perhaps we should find out what happened before placing blame, Council Officer T'mon,” Darius suggested.

“It's obvious,” T'mon insisted as he looked over the three crewmen from Darius's vessel. “These space-confined socialists of yours entered a peaceful establishment to cause trouble.” He planted his hands on his hips and postured though he had to gaze a very long way up to look the
Titan
's commander in the face.

“Barst … report,” Darius ordered as he turned to his face his crew.

“No excuse, sir,” Barst loudly proclaimed.

“Gemma?” Darius asked as he raised one brow and slowly walked to stand before the med-tech.

Laurel noted the unrepentant grin on Gemma's face and struggled to keep one off her own countenance.

“No excuse, sir,” Gemma repeated.

Darius took several slow steps toward the third party in the group, then squared his shoulders and gazed down at Laurel.

Laurel wasn't surprised by Gemma's and Barst's responses. They didn't want to show weakness in front of these locals. Making excuses, no matter how righteous, was unacceptable. They'd take what was coming even if they were blameless. And where she'd thought to defend them, they'd really look like complainers if she did so.