Шарон Ли - Agent of Change

Unbalanced, he didn't struggle; he got one leg where it belonged and braced himself for the twist—

She brought her mouth to his and kissed him—harshly, thoroughly, with lots of tongue and amid roars of laughter from the gathered onlookers.

He kicked and twisted, not giving a blazing blue damn if it broke his neck, but the move for some reason surprised her and she lost her grip.

He landed on his feet next to the bar, back stiff, eyes glacial. His face had lost color, Miri noted, and every line of him expressed outrage. Not the polite killer here, but a man in a towering fury. She rolled to her feet silently on the bar, ready to back his play.

Deliberately, he turned his back on Polesta and took up his glass from the bar. He turned back and took a swig of kynak. He rinsed his mouth.

Then he spat.

Turning away again, he gently replaced the glass on the bar.

Huge laughter burst from the crowd as Polesta's face went red as a Teledyne sunset. "No one insults me so!" she cried, and swung.

He dodged, making use of the space that had suddenly opened around them to get far enough away from her to have room to move.

She swung again, and he grabbed her arm as it rocketed past, twisting his body so, inspiring Polesta to the heights. At the last moment he clenched himself to take the sting out of the maneuver, and let her go.

She hit the floor six feet away with a sound like an infant earthquake. Val Con took a deep breath as a man separated himself from the now-silent crowd and went to the inert warrior. After some cajoling, including a few brisk slaps to the face, Polesta was gotten to a sitting position, though she still seemed rather groggy.

Val Con drifted back to the bar, people slipping out of his way, and settled his back against the solid plastic at Miri's right hand, ignoring Jason's gape. He felt drained—almost exhausted—and wondered briefly why this should be so. The throw had used very little of his own strength, trading as it did on his opponent's momentum.

Miri shifted at his side, and he looked up at her face.

"Pulled your punch." It was a statement, not a question.

"You wanted me to rehabilitate myself," he reminded her, hearing the snap in his voice. He held out a hand. "Give me some of that stuff."

She gave him her glass, and he drank what was left, properly. He drew a hard breath and let it explode out of him.

"Awful, ain't it?" she said, taking back the empty and handing it to Jase, who raised his eyebrows. She jerked her head slightly; he assumed a martyred look and went in search the bartender.

The crowd had split into other patterns now. Across the room, Polesta's partner had managed to get her to her feet. Suddenly, she pushed away from him and started purposefully, if unsteadily, toward the bar.

"Where is he? Run away, eh? Thinks it's done, does he? I'll—"

Her partner jumped in front of her, hands on her shoulders, heels braced. She shook like a mastiff and he held on; he continued to hold on even when she raised her fist—and lowered it.

"Well?" she yelled at him. "I'm insulted. And I should take it, eh? Be meek. Be mild."

The man shook her, though she did not appear to feel it. "Polesta, the Sergeant was right. You're drunk. You made a mistake. He showed you it was a mistake. It's all over, okay? No harm done." He glanced over his shoulder, catching the green gaze of the man at Redhead's right.

"A mistake," he repeated, urgently.

"A mistake," Val Con agreed gently. "No harm done."

Some of the dreadful tension left the man; he returned his attention to Polesta, pushing at her shoulders. "Come on. Let's get some coffee and something to eat. We're due to move in another hour. You'll lose your kit again if you don't sober up some before then . . . ." Talking so, he led her away to claim a table near the back of the room.

Val Con took the glass Miri put in his hand and finished off half in a swallow.

"I think you're right," he said.

"About which?" she asked, noting with approval that his face once more had the proper depth of color and that his shoulders had loosened up a little.

He put the half-empty glass on the bar and twisted his head to grin up at her. "I need a haircut."

She grinned back. "Maybe. Might grow it a little longer, instead, and tie it up with a ribbon, like Jase."

"No, thank you," he began, but then the subject of this conversation was with them and he cut off what he'd been about to say.

"What say we all grub together," Jason boomed "We got a little over an hour before we shuttle out—"

Miri reached up and captured an ear. "Before you what?"

"Shuttle out. Did you think we were going to stay on Lufkit, my small? No wars here—Now, darlin', don't twist it off, I'm attached to it. Part of a matched set, as they say."

She released him and slid to the floor. "Where's Suzuki?"

"It's what I've been telling you, love. You and your partner have been invited by Senior Commander Rialto and Junior Commander Carmody to dine with them in the admittedly limited elegance of the back dining room of this establishment, there to talk over old times and weep into our kynak."

"Tough Guy—"

He was at her shoulder. "Let us, by all means," he murmured, "dine with Suzuki and Jason."

* * *

IT'S POSSIBLE, Val Con thought, leaning back in an unsteady plastic chair and sipping carefully from a steaming mug, that the only reason people drink kynak is because even coffee tastes good afterward.

He set the mug back on the table and sighed very gently. Across from him, Suzuki smiled.

"I have not yet thanked you for saving Polesta's life," she said in her soft voice.

His brows twitched together. "Saving her life?"

"That kill has four moves, does it not?" She didn't wait for his nod. "All who watched saw that you executed but three—and so Polesta lives. I am thankful for that because she is one of the unit's strongest fighters—a berserker. It is unfortunate that the traits that make her so valuable in action cause her to be such a trial when we have been inactive." She paused to drink coffee.

"I admire the skill with which you were able to subdue her," she continued. "I would not have thought it possible, short of killing, which is why I believe Redhead would not fight."

Miri snorted. "That waste of time? Best thing anybody could do would be put her away. She's bats, Suzuki."

"Valuable, nonetheless. As you well know. I did not say you would come out the loser in such an encounter, my friend, but that you would not take from me what you know I consider essential to the unit." She laid a hand on Miri's arm. "You chose your partner wisely."

Miri laughed and picked up her mug, forestalling the need for an answer.

"Besides," Jason commented, "Polesta's probably so mad now she'll take on the other side all by herself when we hit Lytaxin. Give the rest of us a paid vacation." He shook his head at the little man, both admiring and envious. "My lad, you are fast."

"Best remember it," Val Con returned, retrieving his mug and finishing off the contents.

Jason laughed and turned away. "So, then, Redhead, what about signing back on, taking that promotion we offered you? Lytaxin'll be a job o'work—I won't lie to you, my small—and we'll be in sore need of you. I don't doubt you've found civilian life a trial—and travel's expensive when the client's not paying." He held out a large hand. "What about it, Redhead? A lieutenant's badge and the chance to get shot at first? You'll not turn it down?"

Miri looked at Suzuki, who nodded. "We would welcome you back. You know that. We cannot offer your partner what he has not earned, but he is a skilled fighter and we would be happy to add him to the roster. There is no reason why he should not be at your shoulder."