Vaughn Heppner - The Lost Starship

Maddox flexed his fingers, letting his legs eat up one city block after another. Finally, he reached Danny’s Pub. It was an ancient brick building. There were bars over the windows and garish neon signs of Budweiser and Lagers beer. He pushed through the door into an atmosphere of smoke and beer fumes.

With the defeat of cancer one hundred years ago, the old antismoking laws had changed. People could smoke inside again. Maddox had seen a history show or two on the subject. Some of these drinking establishments looked just as they’d been in the early twenty-first century. It seemed Danny’s Pub was one of those places.

To the side, a man stood throwing darts. He thunked a red one into the “6” area. Other beefy individuals sat at the wooden bar, talking and sipping from their pint glasses.

A small man sat at a table, sucking on a stim stick, making the end glow as he carefully examined his cards. He wore a suit and tie as if it was his uniform, and he looked to be in his mid-twenties. He had sandy hair, a ready grin and mischievous blue eyes. On a right hand finger, he wore a ring with an onyx stone. He sucked the stim stick again, lowered his cards onto the table and grabbed the handle of his pint glass. He sipped golden beer, and for a moment, the merry eyes became hooded.

“Are you in or out, Keith?” a man at the table asked.

The other three card players were bigger and heavily muscled. Maddox took them for debt collectors, experts at breaking bones.

“What will you have?” the bartender asked.

Maddox turned away from the game and moved to the bar, putting a shoe on the foot railing. “Give me your house beer,” he said.

The bartender filled a pint, put a napkin before Maddox and clunked the glass before him. The captain sipped, glanced at the bartender and nodded.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” the bartender said. He was a thick man with a shiny dome. “Have a sense about people, I do,” the bartender said, stroking the side of his nose. “You’re trouble.”

“Oh?”

“You watched the card game too closely. Took a keen interest in it.”

The talking at the table stopped. Maddox glanced at the players. All four men stared back at him, Keith Maker having twisted around to do so.

Maddox might render the debt collectors, the dart player, the men at the bar and the bartender unconscious. It would take some doing, though. The easier method would be to shoot them dead, maybe drug Keith Maker and guide the stumbling man to the flitter. Maddox did not intend to kill innocent people, however.

He mentally shuffled through his options. The number of people in the bar at this hour surprised him. After a moment, Maddox decided on his approach and picked up his beer, beginning to guzzle. When he finished the glass, he gasped and clunked the container onto the bar.

“Now give me a whiskey,” Maddox said. “No. On second thought, line up three shot glasses.”

“Do you have the credits?” the bartender asked.

Maddox took out his credit card and slid it to the man. The bartender ran it through a device and slid it back. With his thick fingers, the bartender plucked three shot glasses, pressing them from the inside. He grabbed a bottle, uncorked it and poured until the liquid brimmed to the top of each glass.

The card players still watched, saying nothing.

Maddox grinned, nodded to them and picked up the first shot glass. He made certain not to spill a drop. With a practiced flip of his wrist, he tossed the contents down his throat. It was fiery going down, and the sensation exploded into his brain. In quick succession, he did the same with the other two glasses. His eyes bulged for a moment on the last gulp.

“That’s quite a thirst you have,” Keith said.

With a single finger, Maddox indicated for the bartender to approach. The man complied and opened his mouth to ask something. Before the bartender could get out the words, Maddox poked an index finger into the man’s mouth, rubbing the tip against the fellow’s teeth.

The bartender jerked back, outraged. Maddox caught the big man by the shoulder, dragged him closer and wiped the wet finger against his shirt.

“Next time,” Maddox said, “keep your fingers out of my shot glasses.” He pushed, making the bigger man stumble away.

As Maddox turned, two of the debt collectors stood up angrily. He pretended not to notice, grabbing a chair, bringing it to the card table.

“What do you think you’re doing?” one of the standing men asked.

Maddox laughed good-naturedly, and he lightly punched Keith Maker on the shoulder. “Just making a point, you know. I believe in doing things in a sanitary fashion.”

“You okay, Bernie?” Keith asked the bartender.

The man glowered and spit on the floor. “I say we beat the tar out of him. He’s trouble, Mr. Maker. I can feel it.”

This is Danny’s Pub. Danny was the name of Keith’s brother. He must own this place. Why wasn’t that in the file?

Keith seemed to consider the bartender’s suggestion, finally shaking his head.

The two enforcers sat back down, sliding their chairs to make room for Maddox. He scraped his a bit farther away from Keith.

The small pilot in his suit and tie squinted one-eyed at Maddox. Keith took the stim stick out of his mouth and mashed it against an ashtray.

“Bernie’s right,” Keith said. “You stink of death. Maybe you should move along.”

“Want us to make him move?” one of the bone breakers asked.

Keith kept looking at Maddox as he shook his head. “He’s carrying, Pete. This bloke is a tiger, and you’re a junkyard dog. He’d eat the three of you like that.” The pilot snapped his fingers.

Maddox’s estimation of Keith rose.

“Why are you here?” the man asked.

Maddox reevaluated his plan, and changed it on the spot. “Could I have a word with you in private?”

“Did the Wallace Corporation send you?” Keith asked.

Maddox shook his head.

Keith squinted, peering more deeply into Maddox’s eyes. “That’s quite a trick,” he said thoughtfully.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Maker,” one of the bone breakers asked.

Maddox had the feeling Keith understood that whatever the whiskey had done to him was quickly dissipating.

“Okay,” Keith told Maddox. “I’ll talk.” He stood, picked up his pint and moved toward a back booth. “Don’t touch the cards,” he told the others.

Maddox followed the small man, listening as the three enforcers muttered among themselves. He slid onto the other side of the booth as Keith.

“Let’s make this quick,” the ace said.

Maddox spread his hands palms up onto the table as if he was laying down his cards. “Have you ever heard of the New Men?”

“Do you think I’m an imbecile?”

“Not in the slightest,” Maddox said. “What you might not know was that there was a battle near the Odin System, near in terms of jump routes. The actual fight happened in the Pan System. Star Watch had a battle group. The New Men had three cruisers. The three destroyed everything and lost nothing.”

“If that’s true, how do you know about it?”

Maddox wondered if the other files were as wrong about the rest of the candidates as the one had been about Maker. “A lieutenant escaped in a lifeboat and hid behind an asteroid. After the New Men left, she made it back to Earth.”

Keith ticked off his fingers as his lips mouthed soundlessly. Then he looked up. “That would have happened at least a month ago.”

“Yes.”

“Just saying,” Keith muttered. “Well, supposing all this is true, why tell me? Why would that bring you here?”

Maddox grinned because now he knew how he was going to do this. “We can’t beat their ships.”