A *tink*tink* was usually enough to call the keep from his cleaning duties to pour another glass, but the bar at Freeport 10 was unusually loud this evening. A throng of Zoners fresh from station at Lavadia had stopped for a few days on their journey to Omega-49. What seemed to be their leader was a gruff, older woman likely twenty years older than Johnson. Though he had recognized her when he spotted her escorts carrying supplies from the loading dock, almost ten years and a painfully receding hairline kept him camouflaged enough.
“The Matriarch,” they called her – the mother of almost fifteen sons and daughters – had, in a short amount of time, managed to put her family in positions of power throughout the Edge Worlds. Johnson met her once, surprisingly enough, on a whale passing through Omicron Theta. She was fresh from Bering with a new bun in the oven, and her husband was waiting for her in some part of space that Johnson didn’t care enough about to grant his undivided attention.
It was the same this evening.
With a gaggle of her kin, the keep had made special arrangements at the bar that evening – spiced dark rums and other alcohols from the Omegas, light plum flavored wines from Kusari, and even a flagon or two of deep red from the arbors on Ile-de-France.
Nothing interested Johnson more than his usual whiskey servings. He had carried this batch of a small liner in Hamburg as a prize. The ship, on the other hand, had been causing its fair share of trouble for the local Hessian cells and deep operatives, smuggling Cardimine in specially designed holds under the floor panels.
I give him whiskey to fill his shelves and he turns around and sells it back to me.
Johnson put his head down on the bar, as his sides were awkwardly book ended by two of the Matriarch’s larger children. One stank of sweat and wine while the other stank of sex. Both were large enough that you hoped the smell of love-making was mistakenly coming from someone else.
Not a bad business model, I suppose.
Johnson slammed his glass down with a bit more oomph that usual. Though the merriment around him kept the keep busy, it was easy to pick him out of a crowd. He was the only one at the bar actually sitting and leaning up against the old metal railing. Knife marks and dents accented the strangely sterile stainless, but it made a sight. Johnson admired the décor much more than the life around him.
He felt a tug at his shoulder.
Without turning around, he slid the empty tumbler to the backside of the bar where he hoped that the keep would see it.
Just because they have more than me doesn’t mean my credits are worth any less.
“Senor…”
Johnson lifted his head up.
“If you’d like a drink, I’m sure there are many…easier places to squeeze in.”
Johnson’s faced remained focused on a bottle of French wine in its attractive wooden cask. The deep red…
He looked down.
…matched perfectly with the deep red of his leather tunic.
A face leaned over Johnson’s shoulder and whispered into his ear.
“Rioz…the river. It flows, carving its meander through mountains, valleys, and men. Your blood spills as easily as ours, and our blood does not forget.”
Johnson watched as an arm wrapped around his waist drew the knife plunged into his abdomen across his belly, almost spilling his small intestine into his lap.
As his life blood poured into his lap, the face gave Johnson a swift kiss on the ear and departed, leaving the knife buried in Johnson’s side.
Opening his eyes, a light above his face blinded him.
His vision slowly returned as he tried to put his hands up to protect his scorched eyes. They met strong resistance, and Johnson realized that he was strapped and immobile.
His moan received a mocking response from across the room.
“I never knew you were so damn whiney, Syren.”
She leaned over him, her features coming into focus.
“And it seems I am your guardian angel in reality as in josh,” she said with a welcoming smile.
Johnson tried to speak, but she touched her index finger to his lips with a serenading “Shhhhhhhhh.”
She pushed his head down, running her palm across his eyelids and closing them.
When he opened his eyes again, the room was dimmer. This time, he managed to prop himself up on his arms, but they barely supported his weight. The pain was excruciating.
In the corner, the woman sat pouring over her datapad. Johnson’s struggling made the bed squeak enough to rouse her attention. When she looked him, he could make out the outlines of a familiar, but bit older face. Her hair was streaked with gray, which she wore magnificently over her petite shoulders.
“Where am I?”
“God, you finally wake up and ask the most boring of questions.”
She pulled her chair closer, making a horrendous squeal on the metal floors.
Johnson winced.
“You’re where you’ve always been. Freeport 10. This time, you’re in the medical ward.”
Johnson looked down at his stomach. Where last he remembered a blade and his essence was a tightly wrapped bandage that restricted his movements.
“Good to see I haven’t been killed off yet. I assume I have you to thank for this.”
She laughed lightly, her hair bobbing ever so gently with her upper body.
“Not this time. But I do think you owe the keep quite the tip. When you collapsed in the floor, the Matriarch and her children panicked. Also be thankful for the heavy ones I hear were near you. They managed to pin the fellow long enough for the keep to wrestle his plasma pistol from beneath the bar. Your Rioz took a round through the nose.”
She leaned back in her chair.
“My Rioz?”
“Yes,” she said almost condescendingly.
“Yours. Eduardo Rioz, he seemed to be very close to a certain Corsair you managed to strangle on Gran Canaria. His brother, in fact.”
“I knew they would get to me eventually. I’ve heard they were hunting me down, but through the years they seemed to get further and further away in my memory. It seems that wasn’t the case for them.”
“This Rioz family takes their name seriously, patiently waiting and winding their way through life until they find their end. What makes them special is that they have a reputation for making it where they want to go, not where their waters take them.”
Johnson stared at his abdomen again.
“Not this time, it seems.”
“No.”
She grinned.
“And speaking of ‘times,’ isn’t it about time you addressed me, or at least had the courtesy to ask me for my name? After this long, I’d expect you to put a ring on my finger for all I’ve done for you.”
Johnson gave her a quizzical look, which she mockingly mirrored back at him.
“Mireen. My name is Mireen, William. And it’s good to meet you, too.”
“But we’ve met before. Perhaps under different circumstances, but you don’t need to mock me.”
He blushed, thinking of the open back to his medical gown.
“Oh yes, we’ve met. But you become a different man each and every time. Perhaps that’s why I like you. You keep me on my toes, so to speak.”
She stood up and crossed to the other side of his bed. Placing her arms around his upper body, she managed to place Johnson flat in the bed once more.
“The Corsair used a triangular shaped knife. The wound was terribly messy, but the doctor was able to take muscle tissue from your shoulders and thighs to repair the damage. The removed bits have been replaced with new cells, and much of what was gone has shocking sprung back. You will be weak for a long time, and the new muscles will have to be strengthened and toned with effort.”
“How long have I been like this?”
“The procedure took three days. You’ve been recovering for the better part of two months.”
Johnson leaned his head against the pillow and sighed. As the shoulder muscles in his abdomen flexed, he felt pain and tenseness ride up through his chest.
“I arrived on station about two weeks ago. Once I heard what happened, I thought you could use the company. The doctor seems to think he’ll be able to get his money back through some work he has in mind for you.”
“Even those charged with saving lives often wish they could end a few themselves.”
“And thank the gods for that, else what would people like us have to do?”
Mireen walked back over to her chair and sat down.
“Seeing as I’m the only one who seems to have visited your bedside, you could use a friend.”
Johnson’s thoughts went to Matthew.
“I killed the last friend I’ve met. I’d prefer not to have to do that again.”
“Then we’ll have to find you some new friends.”
Scooting her chair ever so painfully up to the side of the bed, she leaned over and put a small gambling chip in Johnson’s palm.
“The Edge Worlds won't be safe for you much longer. I’m certain the Rioz have heard news of Eduardo, but it doesn’t seem they know you’re alive. I’ve kept the ward clear of roving eyes so far, but I won’t be able to do it for long. When you’re able, you need to leave Freeport 10.”
She leaned over to Johnson’s ear.
“Take this to Freeport 1 in Omega-3. Give it to the barkeeper. He’ll give you instructions.”
She stood up, her gray-streaked hair falling over her shoulders once more.
“I’ve seen to your ship. It is ready for you, and it should have enough medical provisions to see you through a month or so of healing. You’ll need to find another doctor to monitor your progress, but hopefully the people I’m sending you to can point you in the right direction.”
She turned to walk out of the room, hips swaying in a purposefully exaggerated manner.
“And who exactly am I looking for?,” Johnson asked with a bit of annoyance in his voice. “I rarely go looking for people if you understand my meaning. I run into enough trouble being found on my own.”
Mireen turned and leaned on the doorframe. Grabbing the curtain with one hand, she pulled it to her body, letting it cover her curves in a playful fashion. As she hid from his eyes, a small hand tossed a datapad onto his stomach.
The pain was unbelievable.
“You’re not looking for anybody in particular…”
Her boots gracefully brushed the metal flooring as she walked away.
“…but some colorful people might find you.”
Johnson, almost losing consciousness again, forced himself up on an elbow, and opened the datapad’s leather cover. He stuffed the small gambling chip inside the inner pocket, and laid himself down to read.
At least she saved my place.
“Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn.”