Mick Farren - Last Stand of the DNA Cowboys

'We need a room before we do anything else. I think I'll change one of my coins into the local scrip so we have a bit of money to play with.'

He stopped at a change booth, secretively slid one of the antique coins from the concealed pocket on his belt, and exchanged it for a stack of duty paper bills. Diamenti was ultratraditionalist regarding his monetary system. After that the Minstrel Boy filed a deal option on the submarine with one of Diamenti's buying agents and picked up a larger stack of currency that represented a twenty percent deposit. The deal would be finalized and the Minstrel Boy would be able to collect the balance of his cash after the report from the official valuer, an independent functionary whose word was absolute in all major sales to the house.

Renatta watched with interest as the Minstrel Boy stuffed the bills into one of his pockets. 'So do we get a room now?'

The Minstrel Boy looked around. 'I think I could use a drink before we go any farther.'

'Suits me.'

They started toward the nearest bar. Before they reached it, however, the Minstrel Boy suddenly stopped in his tracks. 'Uh oh.'

'What?'

'I think I just saw a guy I know.'

'Which one?'

'He's by the bar, and he's got his back to us. He's the tall guy, the one in the short gray hussar's jacket and the plumed hat.'

'I see him. is this going to be a problem?'

The Minstrel Boy pushed his hands through his hair. 'I really don't know. The last time I ran into him, it turned into a seven-day drunk, and I can't exactly remember the terms on which we parted company.'

'So what do you want to do?'

'I'm not too sure.'

At that moment it ceased to matter what the Minstrel Boy wanted to do. The man in the plumed hat turned, spotted him — and glared. For the first time Renatta saw the exotic matching pistols that were stuck through his belt. An old scar ran down the left side of his hard tanned face. It was not a face too strong on either patience or tolerance.

'I see you, Minstrel Boy,' the man said.

'I see you too, Reave Mekonta.'

Renatta took a step back. The two men stood staring at each other, faces impassive. The Minstrel Boy's right hand was hanging loosely at his side. Renatta knew that he had his big silver pistol, which he had gone to much trouble to conceal, stuck down the back of his leather pants. Others were also moving out of the path between the two men. She did not want to think about what was going to happen next.

The Minstrel Boy also did not want to think about what was going to happen next. Ramilles Diamenti, as an unswerving market libertarian, did not think it was any of the management's business to relieve patrons of their weapons. He did, however, reserve the right to maintain certain standards of order. Accordingly, in addition to the armed keepers on the floor, there were sharpshooters positioned up in the rafters, ready to drop anyone who pulled a piece. The Minstrel Boy was aware that the shooter's eyes, if not their gun sights, were certainly riveted on his back by now.

Reave took a step forward. His face was impossible to read. The Minstrel Boy did the same. Sweat was running from his armpits. A crowd of spectators were watching them from a safe distance. The keepers were starting to close in, Reave took another step. The Minstrel Boy knew that he could not stand toe to toe with a man of Reave's height and weight and slug it out. He wished he still had his knives — he did not want to have to use the gun. He decided that the best thing to do was to let Reave make the first move. Then he would dive for the floor and try to come up shooting.

Reave took another step, closing the gap between them. The Minstrel Boy tensed. Suddenly Reave Mekonta's face cracked, and he let out a loud guffaw. The Minstrel Boy also started laughing, letting the tension flood out of him. Renatta shook her head as the two men fell into each other's arms. After a lot of hugging and backslapping they finally separated, holding each other at arm's length.

'How in the hell have you been doing, Minstrel Boy?'

'I've been doing okay. How about you? You're looking good, pal o' mine.'

'Well, I had a little trouble recently, but what else is new? I seem to be doing all right as of now.'

Arms around each other's shoulders, they headed for the bar. The crowd opened up to let them through. The spectators went back to whatever they had been doing. Some seemed relieved, but others were definitely disappointed at being deprived of a free show. With drinks in their hands, the two old friends started catching up on what each had been up to.

'So after that you started running with Vlad Baptiste?'

'I guess so. I was kind of shell-shocked around that time, shell-shocked and shocking, if you know what I mean.'

'Baptiste's a homicidal schizo.'

'That's why I deserted.'

Renatta positioned herself between the two of them. 'Is this a private romance or can anyone join in?'

Reave looked her up and down and then grinned at the Minstrel Boy. 'She with you? She don't wear much, does she?'

The Minstrel Boy grinned back. 'She rode down here from the Caverns with me. And you're right, she doesn't wear much.'

Renatta scowled at the two of them. 'I'd wear more if someone would help me get some clothes.'

The Minstrel Boy smiled genially. 'We will, we will, but join us for a drink first. Let's have a couple of drinks.'

Drinks were ordered. The Voice in the Wilderness had everything they could have wanted. Reave and the Minstrel Boy ordered two more malts, while Renatta opted for a dry martini. The men returned to their discussion.

'So you were laying up in the Caverns all this time.'

The Minstrel Boy nodded. 'Living was pretty easy until the hunting season started.'

Drink followed drink, and the stories became taller and taller. After a while Renatta tired of listening to the two men lie to each other and wandered away. Neither Reave nor the Minstrel Boy noticed that she had gone. It was only when the Minstrel Boy decided that he really had to get a room before he got any drunker that he discovered her absence.

'Now, where the hell did she go?'

Reave looked around Wearily. 'Beats me, pal.' He continued to squint across the room. 'Is that her?'

The Minstrel Boy had some difficulty focusing. 'Where?'

Reave pointed. 'Over there, watching the rope and chain act.'

'That's not her, that woman's wearing clothes.'

The woman at whom Reave was pointing was dressed for luxury travel in a white full-length fur and matching cossack hat, a black latex bodysuit, and long red boots. A pair of small onyx chandeliers hung from her ears.

'Look at the face. That's her, isn't it?'

She was even wearing makeup.

The Minstrel Boy nodded. 'So it is.'

'She said she was cold.'

'Where the hell did she get those clothes from?'

Reave grunted. 'I could hazard a guess.'

The Minstrel Boy waved and shouted. 'Hey, de Luxe, come over here. Where did you get the brand-new outfit?'

Renatta de Luxe sauntered up to the bar, clearly enjoying the effect of her new costume, which had almost as much impact on the crowd as her previous seminudity had. Her attitude was decidedly truculent. 'I was getting tired of standing around freezing my ass off with every man in the place staring at my tits. Since you guys wouldn't take pity on me, I decided to find someone who would.'

The Minstrel Boy looked at her with new respect. 'You got all that in this short a time?'

'It's quality, not quantity, that counts. I can be quite amazing when I want to be.'

'I can believe it.'

'You'd better. I could have stayed with the guy. By the time I'd finished with him, he would have taken me anywhere.'

'But you decided to come back to us?'

'I figured you'd probably be more fun.'