The Fringe Wars

5.5

Scavenger Hunt

Devil Town, Spate

Critch left his breather mask on as he walked through the sparse bar, even though the air inside was fine. The two drunks at the bar checked him out but returned to their drinks, unimpressed. The bartender kept an eye on him as he crossed the bar and headed straight for the stairs. He could still feel the bartender watching him as he climbed the stairs, though he knew he was doing nothing out of the ordinary aside from leaving his mask on.

Without the mask, everyone on Spate would recognize Critch's scarred face. Most of the fringe thanked him for their independence. Most of the Collective blamed him for a costly war and wanted him dead. He'd heard the price on his head had gone up since the war, which was surprising since that number had already been the highest in history.

He didn't take off the mask until he reached the top of the stairs. There, he found a petite woman—more of a girl than a woman—sprawled sideways in a chair, reading a tablet. She looked up and stared at him for a moment, and then her eyes widened. "You're Drake Fender."

Another woman stepped out of her room. When she noticed Critch, she grinned and rushed over to him. "Critch! Sweetie!"

Both women clung to him like leeches, albeit sexy and attractive leeches. Each murmured in his ear, telling him what she'd do to him should he buy her particular services. His brows raised. The younger woman must be incredibly flexible.

"Back off, girls. He's mine," a voluptuous brunette with a booming voice said as she approached Critch. The other two women promptly released him and stepped away.

"Been a long time, Lucy," he said to the madam.

"Too damn long." She wrapped herself around his waist.

He embraced her and kissed her cheek, brushing his lips closer to her ear. "I need some information," he whispered.

"Mm. Of course." She pulled back with a smile, took his hand, and led him down the hallway. Before they entered her room, she turned to the pair of women still in the hallway. "No one disturbs us, not for anything. Got it?"

She didn't wait for an answer before tugging Critch into her suite. As soon as they were inside, she released him, but not before patting his butt and giving him a wicked grin.

"Have a seat." She closed and then locked the door. She walked over to a table and poured two drinks.

Critch took a chair near the fireplace vid screen. "Why's the bar so empty?" he asked after accepting the glass of whiskey.

Lucy sat comfortably on the chaise in front of the window. "Business downstairs hasn't been so good since the war. Things in Devil Town are the best they've ever been. The CUF's no longer stealing half our income, so people are working longer hours by choice. There are more jobs than workers. But mostly, we no longer have to worry about our kids being taken away. Divorce rates are dropping, and people are spending more time at home. But they still come after their work shifts, more to socialize and celebrate than to drink away their sorrows."

"And business upstairs?"

A sensual smile curved her lips upward. "Better than ever. Bad times, good times, people always want to add a little spice to their lives. How's business treating you at Nova Colony?"

He took a drink. The whiskey was good, but it was no Terran whiskey. "Can't complain. I've left it in capable hands while I take a vacation."

She belted out a laugh. "In all the years I've known you, how many vacations have you taken?"

He shrugged.

"None," she answered for him. "And I'd lay a safe bet that you've never taken a vacation in your entire life. So, what brings you to Devil Town—wait, no, let me guess. You're looking for your ship?"

He eyed her. "What have you heard?"

She leaned back onto the chaise and propped her head on her hand. "I heard your good-for-nothing pilot ran off with your ship, leaving you stranded in the middle of a battlefield surrounded by the whole damn CUF army."

He gave a simple nod. "That sounds about right."

She continued. "I heard he used up all the ship's juice jumping from the armada as well as your specters. He ended up here on Devil Town, assuming we'd already beaten the CUF. He was wrong."

He swallowed. "What happened to my ship?"

"The CUF commander here was going to blow it up, but then the peace treaty happened, and we Spatens made sure every citizen hightailed it out of here posthaste. Those who didn't leave fast enough, well, let's just say they're no longer doing any kind of anything anymore." She grinned. "We accumulated a nice collection of cars and apartments that were abandoned. If you really want to have a bit of vacation, you and I can have some quiet time at my new place on Summers Place if you'd like."

He ignored her. "Where's the Honorless now?"

She waved him off. "At the impound lot. Most people know not to mess with your stuff, but I can't guarantee it's still in one piece."

He downed the whiskey, set the glass on the table, and stood.

"Don't you want to know about your pilot?" she asked.

"Where's Gabe?" he asked, baited.

"He got himself arrested for trying to skip out on paying what he owed. He's still down on Debtor's Row in case you'd like to pay him a visit."

Critch's lip curled upward. "I think I'll do that."

He looked down at his wrist comm and tapped out several commands. "There. That should cover our time together."

She glanced down at her wrist comm and smiled before looking back up. "Next time, don't wait so long before coming back for a visit."

He tilted his head in her direction. "You take care of yourself, Lucy," he said and let himself out.

He hustled down the stairs, donning his mask along the way. Several more patrons had arrived, and the bar had a life to it that it hadn't had earlier. A few tables were filled, and many of the barstools were now occupied. His step hitched when he noticed a patron at the bar who didn't quite fit in. For being alone, he didn't seem drunk, and he didn't watch the wall screens.

Critch continued through the bar, heading straight for the door. He stepped through the inner doorway and into the airlock chamber, opening the outer door as soon as the first door sealed shut. Once outside, he hustled down the sidewalk, making a sharp turn at the end of the block. There, he waited.

After a couple minutes, Critch resumed his walk, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that the man in the bar wasn't there for a drink. Critch's gut instincts had never steered him wrong, and they were currently telling him that he was being followed.