Varken Rise (13 page)

She shifted her stride to the long, slower pace that those experience in space walking and lower gravities used on the more standard gravity worlds and made her way inside.

It was dim, which was normal. There was no game tank taking up most of the room, nor was there a stage where a pretty singer would croon to the customers during the popular hours. There were tables and comfortable chairs and well-padded stools pulled up to the bar itself. There were only two customers, which didn’t surprise her a lot – the concourse here was nearly empty and it was early morning, Shanta time.

Catherine remembered bars similar to this one from when she had been in her first century. Nothing changed about the human habit of drinking except the drink itself.

She took a seat at the far end of the bar, away from the two drunks holding up the middle of it and parked her sack on the seat next to her, instead of hanging it off the back of the chair the way a tourist might. That was just asking for trouble.

The barman floated over to her, a well-muscled woman with the rose red skin of a native Shanterrian and a crooked nose that Catherine suspected had been broken in a fight and never reset. As basic longevity therapy would have easily fixed the bend in her nose, it meant the barman liked the oddity.

“What’s good?” Catherine asked.

“All of it.” The woman shrugged, as if Catherine had asked a stupid question.

Catherine placed her cash on the bar where the barman could see it. “A glass of your best, as long as it isn’t wine.”

The woman smiled and turned away. She brought back a bottle and a glass and poured two slim two fingers. Catherine peeled off a note and gave it to her. The barman made it disappear with a practiced motion.

Catherine took a sip. It was some sort of white spirit, probably distilled from a local plant. It wasn’t bad, but a long way from what she considered good, too. She played with the folded cash, letting the corners riffle down from her fingers. “It’s unusual to see a Shanterrian woman running a business. You must have quite a story.”

The woman shrugged. She went back to the drunks and refilled their glasses, deprived them of more cash and wiped down the counter by their elbows. She seemed to be managing them quite well.

Catherine patiently sipped her drink, working on finishing it so that she could order another. There was a pacing to these things she had to follow to get the information she wanted. That included being a good customer, especially for a barman who dealt with sloppy drunks so well.

“Another, thanks,” Catherine said when the woman returned. She pushed her glass over.

The barman poured in front of her, watching her as she poured. The fingers were more generous this time.

Catherine handed over two more notes and watched them disappear from view again. She didn’t know where the barman was putting the cash. It would be somewhere on her body that was safe from pickpockets or stroppy drinkers who wanted their money back.

“They just bounced me at the barricade, back there,” Catherine said, hooking a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the barricade.

“I saw you go past the first time,” the barman said. “Foot traffic is light down this end, so I noticed.”

“Because of the explosion?”

“You could say that.”

“Would
you
say that?”

The barman gave her a small smile and drifted away again. Catherine worked on the drink and by the time she had emptied the glass, the barman was back. Catherine nodded. “Again, thanks.”

This time, she paid more than triple the price of the first glass. “I’m Caitlyn,” she offered.

“Maxaria,” the barman replied. She studied Catherine with her reddish brown eyes. “You’re passing through?”

“That’s the plan,” Catherine said truthfully. “Just trying to find passage. I was surprised by how many ships are docked here. I heard the whole station had been blown away. I was expecting to stay parked on the cruiser I came in on for days until I found an outward bound ship.”

Maxaria snorted. “Those news feeds. I remember when we didn’t get them at all. The only news was what happened on Shanterry. Then we joined the Federation and suddenly, there’s this downpour of information, so much of it you don’t know where to start. If they get as much wrong as they did about this station, then I say what is the point?”

Catherine nodded. “Like saying the whole station was gone, when it was just one section?”

Maxaria nodded.

“Then is it true that the rogue sentient did this? That’s what I heard.”

Maxaria looked over her shoulder, toward the door. She held up a finger, indicating Catherine should wait. Then she moved up the bar and took care of the drunks once more. While she was standing there, she looked through the steel glass door, out upon the concourse. Then she came back and this time, she continued speaking, even though Catherine was still working on the third drink.

“He was in here,” Maxaria said softly.

Catherine drew in a sharp breath and hid it by turning it into a sneeze. Her mind raced. “Actually
here
?” she asked. “In this bar? You served him?”

Maxaria nodded. “Five days before he blew the station up. I didn’t know it was him, then. Not for sure. Later, when the feeds started going crazy, I saw his picture and that confirmed it.”

“Then you already suspected it was him, before he did it?”

Maxaria picked up the bottle from which she had been pouring Catherine’s drinks. Catherine emptied her glass and pushed it over. This time, she paid the same amount, yet the glass was nearly full.

Maxaria leaned on the bar with her elbows. “He talked,” she said. “He warned me. Told me to tell everyone I know we shouldn’t be on this side of the station that night.”

“Did you? Tell everyone?”

Maxaria’s gaze was steady. “I might have taken him for another blow hard, except I’ve heard some very strange things tending this bar that later turned out to be true. Including the way the old Federation tried to keep everyone down below and humble, throttling interstellar traffic and everything.”

“That’s the strangest thing you’ve ever heard?” Catherine asked, amused. She also chided herself. This was getting away from the subject.

Maxaria just smiled. “You’ve got the look of a spacer about you. Was that the most bizarre story you’ve ever heard?”

Catherine shook her head. “Not even close.”

“I’ve had people arrive here from the Silent Sector,” Maxaria said, wiping the counter. “Straight in from doing the run to the Last Gate. Most of them have stories that are so strange you’d think it was pure fiction and if it was just one or two of them, it might be fiction. Only, not so many of them, not all the time like they do.” Maxaria stood up again. “Anyway, the news feeds were good for something. I recognized him as soon as he stepped into my bar. I knew he was the computer who had transferred to a human body and was in love with that woman.”

Catherine held her breath. If Maxaria was going to recognize her at all, now would be that moment. However, Maxaria was into her story and Catherine nodded in all the right places.

“He was perfectly normal,” Maxaria continued. “Paid up without fuss, then tipped well on top. He looked and smelled like a spacer, too. He knew enough about the spaceways to come here.” She smiled. “Very polite, he was. Four, five days, hanging around my bar in between whatever business he had to take care of, then he scared the water out of me and told me to tell everyone else.”

“So you did.”

Maxaria nodded.

“Then he blew up the station?”

“They say it was him. I didn’t see him do it.”

“He knew enough to warn you, though, didn’t he?”

Maxaria gave a sigh. “Yeah, he was mixed up in it in some way.” She glanced around the empty bar once more. “If he did do it, then he did us all a favor, anyway.”

Catherine squeezed her glass, controlling her reaction. “That so?”

Maxaria moved back down the bar and settled down one of the drunks, who was slapping at the bar for service. She pushed a bowl of finger snacks in front of them and encouraged them to help themselves,
gratis
. Which was another smart move. Food would help sober them up a little, so they could drink longer. More drinking meant more revenue, especially since they were using cash, not virtual yen. Cash could be stashed and hidden from official accounts.

She left the drunks happy once more and came straight back to Catherine. “There’s a reason a woman got to own this bar,” she said.

“You own it?” Catherine let her admiration show.

“When I first took it over, it was too close to the wrong side of the station.”

Catherine shook her head. She didn’t know what that meant.

“Shanterrians have been running this station since it was built. That was over three centuries ago.”

The spoked wheel design had already told Catherine the place was old. “Was the section the sentient blew up in need of repair?” she asked. That would explain why she thought it was a good thing the section had been taken out.

“Glave, no,” Maxaria said. “It was the section that got all the repairs it needed. Even before the more important stuff got done elsewhere. That was after the Gramoor took over and ran the section into the ground. The only businesses that could survive in there were those that were in the Gramoor’s favor.”

“Extortion,” Catherine breathed. She finished the glass without noticing the bitter taste and Maxaria filled it up again and waved away Catherine’s money.

“That sort of thing…it spreads,” Maxaria continued. “Like a virus. People started staying away from the section. That’s how I got to buy this bar at a stupid price. No one wanted to be that close to the Gramoor. Then, because even the tourists knew enough to stay away, business slowed down. The only customers who stayed loyal were the spacers, who don’t give a damn about local politics.”

“The sentient was docked in the Gramoor section?”

Maxaria nodded. “One of the few with the courage to stick his nose in the air. I know they tried to put the squeeze on him, because he came in with a shiner one day. He must have had friends in high places here, because I heard the next night that some of the Gramoor heavy men had been rounded up and taken dirtside. It wouldn’t stop them, not forever. They know how to arrange their way out of trouble.”

“It stopped them long enough to let him finish his business.”

“Seems like,” Maxaria agreed. “He came in to buy a last round, he said. Then he warned me. Then he left. Then, if they’re right, he blew up that section of the station. Like I said, he did everyone a favor. The government will rebuild the station, new business will set up and we all get a station clear of the scumbags.”

Catherine got to her feet, then stood there until her balance was steady. “Powerful stuff,” she muttered.

“You asked for the best,” Maxaria reminded her.

Catherine pulled a few more notes off her stash and handed them over. “Thank you, Maxaria. You tell good stories.”

Maxaria tilted her head. “That’s what he said, too.”

“Because it’s the truth,” she said carefully. She picked up her sack and slung it over her shoulder and headed for the door.

“Don’t forget to mention my bar to your friends,” Maxaria called.

“I will recommend it,” Catherine said and meant it.

“Good luck finding him, honey,” Maxaria added.

Startled, Catherine looked at her.

Maxaria gave another shrug. “Told you the feeds were useful for something.”

Gate Station, Shanta System. FY 10.092

Brant had grown far more accustomed to easing information out of strangers after two decades in Catherine’s company. Sometimes, monetary encouragement was needed. Often, though, all that was required was basic psychology. Bring the subject around to talking about themselves and it all came tumbling out.

He spent three of the four hours wandering through the bazaar and talking to the stall owners. Because this was Shanta and technological devices were their primary export, the bazaar mostly featured stalls of gadgets and tools, all with the premium Shanta stamp. Brant had become more and more comfortable with computers and technology over the years, but such a concentration of non-human thinking machines made him mildly uncomfortable.

He finally made his way to a food market and sat at a table next to a group of three red-skinned Shanta natives wearing the tags and IDs of station personnel. If the locals ate here, it would be good food. He consulted with the AI, that recommended a small meal of Shanta cuisine with an unpronounceable name and offered a discount, too. He accepted and sat back to wait for the food to arrive, listening openly to the discussion at the next table.

They were talking about the extra shifts they were all having to put up with at the moment thanks to the repair work on the damaged section. Overtime and danger bonuses were disparaged and general grousing about station management was the filler.

It was an opening Brant could use. “Did any of your friends get hurt when the section blew up?” he asked loudly, drawing their attention.

They all looked at him. The most outspoken of the three replied. “No one I know, no thanks to that crazy sentient bastard.”

Brant’s blood chilled. “The rogue computer?” he said, keeping an enquiring, pleasant expression on his face.

Loud Mouth nodded. “That’s the one. I hope they find him and break him up into tiny pieces and throw the crystals in acid.”

Brant forbore to point out that Bedivere lived in a human body. The level of ignorance about the Varkan and Bedivere in particular had been high all across the known worlds even before all this had happened. No one was in the mood, now, to learn the truth about him.

“Does anyone know why he did it?” Brant asked.

“Because he’s crazy,” Loud Mouth shot back. “No other reason. He just circled his ship around and opened fire. No warning. No nothing.”

“No alerts went out when he circled around?”

Loud Mouth frowned. “Does it matter? He destroyed the damn station.”

“And why do you care?” one of the others demanded.

Brant retreated. “No reason. Just curious. Enjoy your meal.”