Geoff eyed the Cat cautiously, then decided to venture an opening.
"First time here?" Geoff asked casually, hoping the Cat understood the pidgin dialect of space, a mix of English standard and Imperial standard which was the language of trade on the frontier.
The Cat snarled, a standard response when a human first spoke to them. Geoff already knew to give a toothy grin in response to show he was not afraid, but not to open his jaw, which was a signal for a fight.
"Many times here," the Cat responded.
Geoff could tell he was lying. The thing kept looking back and forth as if soaking it all in the for the first time.
Geoff motioned for the barkeep to set up a drink for his new neighbor and the Cat looked over at him in surprise.
"To the spilled blood of our enemies," Geoff announced, raising his mug in salute.
"We might be speaking of your blood," the Cat replied as he took a tentative sip of the drink, grimaced, and then forced the rest of it down. Geoff motioned for a second.
He didn't even want to think about how much money he had spent buying drinks. In fact, word seemed to have gotten around The Pit so that, whenever he walked in, there was always at least one pathetic drunk whining at him for 'a taste of juice.
Turner's level of action was something he didn't even want to try. The old prof was often in the Lotus Holes and had even wandered into some of the brothels. He claimed to be playing it straight, but what he was doing in the name of the service was something Vance speculated on in loving detail.
The question was, had they accomplished anything useful while spending thousands of what he assumed was Confed Intel money? There were individual pieces enough of something that didn't seem right. The number of ships slipping through from Cat territory had slowed to a trickle, creating a hell of a lot of tension in The Pit. With few Cats coming in, the price of their goods had skyrocketed, while there was now a glut on goods coming from within Confederation and frontier worlds. Turner pointed out that this information alone might have some significance, but the news that all commerce between the worlds of the Empire was almost at a standstill for lack of shipping was something that set off alarms for Turner. The problem, though, was that in and of itself there was still no direct documented evidence that they could take back to Banbridge.
He continued to watch the Cat he was buying for. The bristling of the mane was down slightly.
"Anything interesting to trade?" Geoff asked.
"Don't know, just crew," the Cat replied.
"We have some Gotherian crystal."
The Cat looked over at him.
"Access port seventy-one if you'd like to see. Tell my friend Hans I sent you and he'll give you a break."
"You with Phantom?"
Geoff did not let his gaze flicker. How did the Cat know the original name of the ship?
"No, the Lazarus."
The Cat growled with amusement.
"I saw your ship as we docked. Seen it before. Changing wing design and armor, it is still the same."
"Sorry friend, I think you've got the wrong ship."
Geoff quietly nudged Vance with his knee to alert him that there might be trouble.
"Phantom ship that destroy frigate."
"I heard about that," Vance interrupted, moving his chair away from the bar and dragging it to Geoff's side while motioning for the keeper to set up yet another drink. "Some fight, I heard. Anyhow, the one guy that got away wound up getting ventilated back at the Hell Hole. Some folks didn't like him back there."
The Cat looked at him with a mocking gaze.
"You say you have Gotherian glass and crystals?"
"The best," Vance interjected.
"Lets see."
The Cat quickly downed his third drink and stepped away from the bar. Geoff set out to lead the way, letting Vance fall in behind the Cat to cover his back. They stepped out into the swirling confusion of the main corridor, swerving around a body sprawled on the grating. After weeks in this place, Geoff found that he was getting used to it all. As he walked down the corridor, right hand in his pocket, lightly wrapped around the grip of his blaster, he carefully surveyed those walking past. Hans had tipped them off that he was convinced that a Sarn clan headhunter had recently come in on a huge three-engine smuggler out of the Jab system. At least, that was the tip-off offered by another trader from the Landreich who was docked near them.
Weaving his way around the stinking, heaving crowd, he at last reached the side corridor leading into their docking bay. Hans was leaning against the door, Turner by his side, a sample of their ornate glasswork spread out on a small table.
The Cat walked up and quickly scanned the table, picking up one of the heavy ornaments, which for some strange reason the Cats found fascinating, and casually held it up so it could catch and reflect the dim light.
Geoff could see he was not really looking at the glass, but instead was gazing intently at Turner. Turner calmly returned the look.
"Price?"
"Fifty credits for what you're holding," Turner replied.
The Cat nodded and, putting down the glass, he fished in his left pocket for a twenty-five-credit piece, pulled it out and slapped it on the table. Hans was about to raise an objection but then the Cat reached into his right trouser pocket and produced another twenty-five-credit coin, but this time he handed it straight to Turner.
Curious, Turner accepted the coin. The Cat picked up the glass and continued to stare at Turner.
"You will find the payment fair, Commander," the Cat said softly. He quickly turned and, shouldering his way through the crowd, disappeared.
"Geoff, Vance follow him!" Turner hissed.
The two started off after the Cat but their quarry was moving fast, dodging down a lateral corridor that crossed through the middle of the barge. The two squeezed into the passageway, struggling to get around a Wu whose half-ton bulk all but blocked their way. In that same instant the sharp crackle of an automatic blaster erupted further down the corridor. Vance pulled Geoff down to the floor. The Wu suddenly let out a deafening, trumpeting shriek and staggered backwards so that the two had to scramble out of its way as it crumpled down, blood cascading out of half a dozen wounds stitching across its chest.
Lying behind the body, Geoff pulled his weapon out and peeked up over the still-heaving chest of the screaming Wu. He caught a glimpse of the Cat they had been trailing, identifiable now only by the blood-covered piece of Gotherian glasswork clutched in his left hand.
"He's dead," Geoff cried. "Let's get the hell out of here."
More shots erupted from the far end of the corridor, now obscured by a smoke grenade that someone had popped off beside the dead Cat. The spray of rounds was nearly continuous as the two crawled away. Geoff could hear the repeated smack of bullets impacting the Wu, realizing that if it had not been for the giant, lumbering creature, they'd be dead.
Gaining the main corridor, which was now as empty as the one church mission inside The Pit, the two sprinted for safety. Turner stood alone in the middle of the corridor, weapon raised, Hans at his back covering the other way. Geoff could see the look of relief in Turner's eyes.
"Thought you boys were dead," Turner shouted as they scrambled past him and turned into their access corridor.
"Whoever it was got him," Geoff cried as they ducked into the side corridor. Turner backed in behind them and started to shout a curse at the Cat who worked for Gar, who was pressed into a niche in the wall on the other side of the corridor.
"What the hell is going on here?" Turner roared.
"Gar not responsible, that's in agreement!"
Before Turner could say another word a booming siren echoed through the barge, its wavering tone setting Geoff's hair on edge.