Free John Maddox Roberts - Space Angel by John Maddox Roberts Page B

on corners and, occasionally, in front of doorways. Richly dressed merchants were no longer to be seen, and the groups Torwald and Kelly passed looked them up and down in casual speculation. The sight of a well-armed spacer seemed not to tempt them, and the loungers, mostly young men, returned to whatever discussion had been interrupted.
    Eventually, the two reached a bar with a sign depicting a figure in a spacesuit with a ruptured helmet, floating against a field of stars. Undoubtedly, this was the Dead Spacer. They crossed the street and entered a nondescript warehouse. Torwald signaled Kelly to imitate him, then entered, hands well away from weapons, walking slowly. Kelly followed. Inside, the light was as dim as it had been in the Gun Runner.
    Amost immediately a small dark man emerged from behind a pile of boxes. His face was hideously scarred, and he had artificial eyes that gleamed blankly, giving away nothing. He looked the two newcomers over without fear. Shadowy figures were visible among the boxes behind him. Finally, he seemed satisfied.
    "Been a long time, Raffen. You look prosperous."
    "Not as prosperous as you, Ortega." Torwald turned lowly, surveying the loot that filled the warehouse. Seems you've picked up some new eyes since I last saw you."
    "They gouge eyes for smuggling on Quetzalcoatl. What do you need? Want to get back into the profession? If so, I know a few skippers who could use a good hand like you."
    "Thanks, Ortega. I just need some information this time. I'll pay the usual rate. I need the location of the clan ship K'Tchak."
    "This one safe?" Ortega nodded toward Kelly.
    "He's my squire." Kelly wondered at this. He had not realized that he had a status other than ship's boy. But Ortega was answering.
    "K'Tchak' s in orbit around Donar until end-of-cycle. That leaves you plenty of time. After that, she heads for the Homeworld." Nobody except the Vivers knew where Homeworld lay. Torwald handed the man a stack of metal plates.
    "Thanks, Ortega. I'd like to talk over old times, but we have to get back to the ship—urgent assignment. Maybe next trip."
    "Torwald," Ortega called just as the two reached the wide wooden doors of the warehouse, "you have enemies here. Some of 'em still remember the Jonah. Don't drop your guard before you reach your ship."
    "Thanks, Ortega." Torwald turned, reached beneath his vest, and extracted the slug pistol. "You ever use one of these, Kelly?"
    "No."
    "Remind me to give you lessons sometime. Don't worry about it just now. If we get hit in these streets, it'll be at short range. Just stick that in somebody's belly and pull the trigger. You've got thirty shots. One or two ought to be enough. Shift your sticker to the back of your belt, where you can get at it with either hand."
    "But I'm right-handed."
    "Suppose the first warning you get that the fun's about to start is a bullet through your right arm?" Kelly stuffed his knife sheath into the crease of his back. The slug pistol went into his belt.
    The sky was quickly darkening when they left the warehouse. Truro was located just north of New Andorra's equator, near the sea, so the transition from day to night was brief. The streets were dim, and the lengthening shadows of the buildings formed inky pools across the thoroughfare. Torwald headed for the spaceport, Kelly following a few steps behind, ears cocked for following footsteps. They were not long in coming.
    "Tor," Kelly whispered, "I hear two men behind us."
    "There's three in front. I'm going to do some talking, but there's no talking our way out of this. Don't go for your gun until I go for mine. You take care of those two behind us." Suddenly the three ahead made their appearance. In the light of a doorway, they appeared to be street thugs of the standard variety— youngish men in gaudy clothes, their dissipated faces wearing arrogant smirks. They looked stupid, unpredictable, and dangerous.
    "Just hold it right there." The biggest of the three, a tall man