13 Degrees of Separation (74 page)

Cries of dismay echoed as word spread through the people.
Randor motioned with his hands for the people to settle down and get back to
work. He turned to Duncan.

"I don't know. I don't know if we'll ever know. What's
done is done now. Now we've got to figure out what to do about this," his
friend replied. He looked up to the sky. "We've got to evacuate. The
moment they know this place is offline they'll nuke it."

"Crap," Randor replied, thinking of all the hard
work they had put into the area. All the lives that would be impacted.

“One good rock or missile and it's all over. We both know
it,” Duncan said.

“Yes, I...”

“We can fix it. Give us a chance!” the Vinatelli girl said.
She rushed past them to the break. “We've got a couple of days before the
pirates get here right? So give me a chance!”

“She's right,” Randor said. “But just to be on the safe
side, I'm going to evacuate people to the caves along the shore anyway. An
orderly evacuation started now will keep panic at bay.”

“Good idea. GOTH plan,” Duncan replied.

“Yeah, Go To Hell. I hope the damn Pirates do that very
thing,” Randor growled, looking up at the sky. The sun was slowly setting,
darkening the sky. Already they could see stars and the occasional artificial
object like the Prime space station. He winced, that was going to be one hell
of a juicy target. That and the newly finished orbital yard several million kilometers
beyond. Not his problem, he thought. He turned to those around him. This, this
here and his son, they were his problem. His people to lead and protect. He
felt his wife capture his hand and squeeze it. He looked down and smiled
briefly to her. She smiled back. They'd come this far, done the impossible.
They could go on. The pirates had a surprise in store, that he'd guarantee.
They'd worked too hard, faced stiffer odds. They'd get through it. “Let's get
to work,” Randor said regally with a firm nod.

Adam frowned up at the sky. He had no way to fight and he
hated that. “Damn it,” he muttered. “If we only had a way to fight back!” he
growled.

Kringer eyed him. “Adam, let me tell you about this place
on the other side of the island.”

“Oh? Another place to hide?” Adam asked.

“Not exactly. It's, well, this, well, a place my mom took
me too. I barely remember it. I guess you could call it a castle...”

The End

Events take place during  Jethro 2.

Lieutenant JG Teague Intel. Blond, undercover.

Special agent Frank Sekim: Former Marine turned NCIS agent.
Knows Montgomery (Monty)

M'wvekii: Letanga's mother, aunt to Jethro. Leopard, works
as prostitute in cat house.

1st Lt John Montgomery: ONI senior agent in system Refuses
position of G-2 of system.

Jerald Holmes: Protagonist

Mary: Female human, botanist/farmer trainee

Marcus: crew of Midnight MX2

Rick Bartender of the Double Fisted Mary. Squat
heavyworlder.

Penny: Senior waitress and wife of Rick

Liam Valdez Kincaid: chief engineer of the station.

Yardley: Bar regular, power technician

Br'n Veraxin waitress

Rack'th Veraxin chef

A tall teen got off the small freighter ship Midnight MX2
at Anvil. He did his best to not look like a tourist, though his rough clothes
made him stand out. The Veraxin on duty didn't twitch at his rough jerkin pants
and off white and slightly stained shirt. He had after all, seen it all by now.

After passing through customs Jerald immediately found and
started looking through job listings. There weren't a lot of other passengers
on his ship, the crew was hardly interested in finding a brief job, they just
wanted to get past his lean frame and improvised duffel and on their way. He
tucked the bag between his feet to keep it from getting kicked or stolen and
kept studying the board intently.

Jerald Holmes was a tall lad, mop of unruly red hair,
freckles, broad shouldered like his father. He had a nice, innocent smile but
surprisingly mature brown eyes. On his home planet he had been a heart breaker
to the local farm girls, literally when he had chosen to leave the planet
rather than settle down.

The teen was the son of poor but respected taverners on the
farm world New Haven. He had been the youngest son. He had grew up in the bar
with his siblings, all girls. When he was ten he worked in a canary during the
fall because the tavern business was slow. He deeply resented being pulled out
of school permanently to support his family. His father had gruffly told him he
was a man now, and had to do man's work.

He had grown used to being pulled out of school for odd
jobs or when the mid summer or fall harvest time hit. After all, such times
were an all hands on deck sort of thing. He made up for it by studying
voraciously, practically devouring every book they had in the small colony's
meager library. But he had wanted more, he had seen faded photos of stars, old
posters, he had wanted to explore.

His father had died after he hadn't passed an infected
kidney stone a year ago. Heartbroken, his mother had gone through the motions
but had passed away from pneumonia during the long cold winter. His siblings
had all settled down, as the youngest child he had been expected to carry on
the Tavern and give each of them a cut of the profits. He however had his own
plans, he had immediately sold the business and used his cut of the money and
what little he had had in his savings to get a ticket on the next starship to
Pyrax.

He had heard for years that Anvil was the jewel of the
system, a system named after gold, now it was time to find out if it was true.
And he definitely wanted to be something more than a small town bartender. He
had had his fill of cleaning up barf and getting stiffed on the bar tab.

Right now he had a purpose, he had to find work. He thought
he had had enough saved for a couple of weeks of living on the station, but a
few of the crew had talked him into wagering that in a 'sure thing' and now he
was almost broke. He needed to find work and a place to stay. Fast.

Now that he was on the station he was hesitant, unsure of
what to do and where to go. The board was out of his league, most of the jobs
were way beyond his understanding. He felt a little depressed, how was a guy
fresh off the ship supposed to get started? He wondered.

“Problem citizen?” an artificial voice said.

“Um, I'm sort of new here,” he said, fighting the awe at
seeing a floating metal ball with arms bobbing next to him. You just didn't see
such things back on New Haven.

“Try the news board,” the robot said and then kept going.

“Um, thanks,” he said, swiveling to watch it leave. He
turned back to the board. He noted temp agent listing and frowned at them.

“Remember what I said kid, watch out for... pick pockets,
and gangs.” a familiar voice said. He turned and waved to Marcus. Marcus gave
him a jaunty salute and then headed further into the busy station.

Marcus had seemed like a good guy, honest at least. He had
also warned Jerald away from the temp agents, “They tend to screw you,” he had
said. “Watch your back with them. They give you shit jobs and take half. Some
are really jacked, they charge you for food and rent, you could end up over
your head fast kid, getting in deeper and deeper every day. So steer clear if
you can.”

Jerald shook his head. He looked through listings, menial
jobs more his apparent speed, and was amused by all the different jobs. He'd
thought they would be futuristic, and realized that the ones that were, were
far out of his league, they required a formal education and of course,
experience. He didn't mind hard work, but with his skills he's suddenly dismayed
by his prospects. About the only thing available that he qualified for are
general hand, cleaner, or bar keep. He turned at the sound of a motor. A robot
was busy scrubbing the wall nearby. Hell, not even cleaner, they had bots for
that. He wrinkled his nose.

He sighed, there really was only one job that paid half way
decent that he qualified for. He didn't like the idea, but he'd go for it. He
was pessimistic though, but he applied for a junior bartender position at a bar
called the 'Double Fisted Mary'.

He tapped out his name and filled out the form on the wall.
When they asked when he could start he tapped right away. He hit send and then
was surprised when he got an immediate response. “Well! That was quick!” he
said, blinking in consternation.  The e-mail even had directions. He turned and
oriented himself.

He got lost twice and had to ask directions, but he finally
got to where he was going. The bar was a bit run down, dark as most bars were,
but it had that lived in man cave most people preferred. He nodded, fighting
the urge to look around as he spotted the bartender.

The bartender was a heavyset man, most likely a
heavyworlder from the look of his broad shoulders and squat height. He'd do
well as his own bouncer, even though he wore a white shirt, black bowtie and
stained apron.

“You the guy?” the gruff bald male asked.

“Jerald Holmes sir. Pleased to meet you.”

“About the job?” the guy grunted. Jerald nodded.

“Fresh off the boat?” the guy asked, pausing. Jerald
grimaced and nodded again. The guy chuckled, as did a few of the patrons
leaning over their beers. “Toss your shit in the back and grab an apron kid.
I've got tables that need clearing.”

“Just like that?”

“What you waiting for a formal invitation? Get your act
together kid or you're out on your ear,” the bartender growled.

“Ah... yes sir,” the lad said, moving to the door the man
pointed to.

“And be quick about it!” the man said.

He had been picked up immediately as a busboy and server,
he was a bit dismayed by it, but work was work. He worked hard, and at the end
of the shift he split the tips with the three waitresses. He was exhausted, his
feet were sore, and he was a bit amused that they had worked him a double
shift. He hadn't even known the passage of time, it was just moving from one
job to the next. He wasn't even hungry, just tired.

He didn't dare sit down. “That's mean Rick, the kid's fresh
off the boat and you work him like a dog?” the lead waitress Penny said,
shaking her head.

“Hey, he wanted work,” the bartender said, spreading his
hands. He leaned over the counter. The place was now closed, they had just
finished the scheduled cleaning. “You got a place to crash kid?”

“He can barely stand Rick, I bet he'll crash right here on
the floor,” Penny said. She shook her head. “Did you at least eat?” she asked.

Jerald frowned fuzzily and then shook his head. She sighed,
shaking her head.

“You got to eat, take a lunch break no matter what this
meat head says. We usually do it between meal rushes,” she said.

“People come in here to eat?” he asked. He remembered all
the plates and bowls. Most of them had been for crackers or pretzels.

“Yeah, beats going to a galley or restaurant for some. And
some drink their meals,” Penny said. She went in the back and came back with an
energy bar. “We got a maintenance tech, a regular to fix the food replicator.
Here kid, energy bar. On the house,” she said, and then set a drink down next
to it. She turned a challenging eye on Rick who just spread his hands apart and
quickly shut his mouth.

“Yeah, that's what I thought,” Penny growled and turned
away. She leaned against the bar as Jerald picked the block up. He'd had a long
road getting used to processed food on the ship. He hadn't liked it, his
digestive track had spent its entire life eating real food. Fresh real food,
not... this. Still he choked it down.

“You obviously have experience kid,” Penny observed. “You
aren't a ham handed twit like we've had in here. You didn't break a single
thing and you knew some tricks. Good for you,” she said. He nodded.

“I saw you get a drink of water. Next time don't drink from
the tap though, that's gray water. Get it from the food replicator,” Penny
said. She sat on the stool and took her sneakers off. She rubbed her feet,
groaning softly. “And get some decent footwear,” she said.

“I've got some in my bag. I didn't get a chance to swap
them out.”

“Ah,” she said nodding. “Agro world?”

He nodded. “Is it that obvious?”

“No, well, a little,” she said smiling. He hunched his
shoulders. She snorted. “You grew up in a tavern?” she asked. He nodded.

She turned to Rick who turned back. “You think you could
run this place kid?” Rick asked.

Jerald looked up. “If I had to sir. I don't know how well
or for how long.”

“You know how to balance the budget? Make a martini?”

“No, well I can pour beer and I know how to get a drunk
out,” Jerald replied. He'd had to toss two drunks out with the bartender during
his marathon shift.

“I saw that. But here things are a bit more...
sophisticated kid. Get your act together. Get into the bartender college. Hell,
the real Anvil college.”

“There is one?” Jerald asked blearily.

Penny threw her head back and laughed. “Leave the kid alone
Rick, he's done in. Save it for tomorrow if we've got time.” She leaned over
and patted the kid's knee. “You did good kid, no matter what this reject says.
Just keep plugging,” she said and got up. She took her apron off, tossed it
over Rick's head and then sauntered out with a slight hip bump to her walk.

Jerald looked at the bartender as he irritably balled up
the apron and tucked it under an arm. “She's a piece of work,” Rick grumbled.

“I'm guessing a lifer?”

“My wife,” Rick said, surprising the lad. He chuckled as he
polished a glass and then held it up to the light to check for specks. “You can
crash on our couch tonight, but I expect you to find a place tomorrow. Your
shift starts in the afternoon, that will give you time to get sorted out.
Okay?”

“Yes sir,” Jerald replied.

“It's not the Hilton kid, but it's safe and around the
corner. Let me finish up here, lock up, and then we'll go.

“Yes sir.”

“And quit calling me sir! You're making me feel old!” Rick
growled. Jerald smiled.

...*...*...*...*...

The next morning he found a cheap motel, Penny had
thoughtfully left a printed paper with the directions circled under a breakfast
bar and cup of juice. She'd left the trio of items and a note to take under two
minutes in the shower on the coffee table.

He took a quick shower then headed out. The door locked
behind him, so there was no going back. He consulted the map she had provided
but it really wasn't necessary, someone had put up signs along the walls. The
motel was cheap, a half a day's wages each day, three days charge up front. It
barely had a bed and bath, but it was home. It was also much more comfortable
than that lumpy couch.

He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall
screen. After a moment he found the remote and figured out how to turn the
screen on. He entered the system and then explored.

First thing, he studied his area, finding out where the
nearest laundrymat was, as well as the nearest eating places. The bar had four
stars, which surprised him.

He also looked into some of the history of the station and
system. It was quite fascinating, the renaissance this Irons had pushed the
system into. Things had apparently really changed over the past year.