Free Take The Star Road (The Maxwell Saga) by Peter Grant Page A

to work as hard as they do. That's what binds us together as a crew - the knowledge that we can count on one another. Anyone who shirks his duties doesn't last long. You'll have to prove you've got the right attitude by your actions, far more than your words."
    They started walking again as the cleaning cart moved away. Tomkins added, "The Bosun's right. Our merchant spacer grapevine has a long memory. Years from now, you'll run across people who knew you way back when. They'll remember you, and talk about the kind of person you were , even if you've changed since then. The reputation you establish over the next few weeks and months will stay with you for the rest of your career, so it's best to make sure it's one you'll want to keep!"
    "I get it. Thanks for - "
    His words strangled in his throat as two men, both short, stocky and visibly of Far Eastern extraction, jumped out of a narrow side alley and stood facing them, half-crouched. Both wore black shirts and trousers. The leader also sported a black waistcoat, and held a pair of short, heavy wing chun butterfly swords, curved points angled upwards. Heart suddenly pounding in his chest, Steve recognized him. He was the leader of the six men who'd attacked Louie a few nights before, who'd fled after seeing most of his comrades brought down. The second man, standing to one side and slightly behind the leader, grasped the hilt of a long-bladed dao backsword in both hands.
    The leader spoke, his voice a malevolent hiss, face twisted in a scowl of hatred. "You shamed me and my Tong! Now you pay! "
    A sudden scuffling noise came from the alley, and a strangled yelp. The speaker whipped his head around towards the sound, and Steve seized the opportunity. He dropped his coffee cup and the towing strap, slid smoothly forward and lashed out with a mae geri frontal kick, lifting his right thigh then driving his lower leg outwards from the hinge-point of the knee. The hardened toe of his work shoe crunched into the man's right wrist with vicious power, slamming it back into his chest. He grunted in pain, the knife falling from his right hand.
    Steve snapped his foot back to the floor. His off-balance opponent, staggering backward, slashed wildly at him with the weapon in his left hand. Steve swayed back, outside the arc of the blow - but collided with his baggage tower, which had followed the signal from the tracking unit at his waist and now blocked his retreat. Only his attacker's rearward motion saved him as it opened the distance between them. The blade nicked his jacket, but didn't touch his skin.
    Before the bladesman could reverse his swing Steve pushed himself off the baggage tower, using it to lend impetus to his forward lunge. He seized the man's left wrist and arm and twisted them, angling the weapon away from him, forcing his enemy to drop it. The bladesman screamed as something snapped in his arm with an audible crack! Steve kept up the pressure, tugging at his off-balance foe, pulling him over his hip then slamming him down hard on the unyielding steel, driving the air from his body with an agonized "Unfh!" He wrenched at the man's arm to pull his shoulder back, twisting his neck, exposing his head, then put his full weight behind his knee, driving it down into the base of his opponent's skull. The man's face hit the floor at an angle with sickening force, wrenching his jaw out of its socket with the impact, drawing a gurgling moan of agony.
    Steve flicked a glance to see what the other attacker was doing, but he needn't have worried. In the instant that his kick had landed on the leader, the Bosun had taken advantage of the distraction he'd provided to hurl his coffee cup full into the second man's face. Its flimsy lid came off, splashing steaming-hot coffee into his eyes.
    As the blinded bladesman flinched, Tomkins jumped forward and launched a roundhouse kick, his shoe striking the attacker squarely in his testicles with shattering power. His victim screamed, beginning