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". . . And maybe the strikers would like some professional help in case of strikebreakers," finished Brodski. "And a local shipping captain just might recognize a couple of old pros when he sees them. It fits. How do you feel about becoming a merc, Owen?"
"Not badly, after looking for work in this place for the past shifts . . . no, Turns."
"Turns is right, I've noticed the lack of honest work myself. I've been teaching Tai-Chi to some deacons for room and board."
"I had some idea of selling my skills when I came here-but I soon found that it was work for a gang or not work. The Harmonies don't hire much, and no honest Docktowners could pay anything-thanks to the curious shortage of currency. Since the only gang leader left is Jomo, I couldn't work there. He 'dislikes' people that are not of mixed blood."
"Umhmm. So what do you say to finding this Makhno fellow and applying for the job?"
Van Damm shrugged. "Since I have no job right now, and things are begi
"Yeah. And I thought I'd quit being an armed tourist when I quit the Corps . . . . Well, Semper Fi, buddy," said Brodski, refilling both glasses.
" 'Til the Final Muster," toasted Van Damm. "Now, how shall we find our employer?"
"I have a fu
"Ah, no. Van Damm pointed to his backpack. "I prefer to travel light-and ready."
"Wait here. Brodski got up and went back to Charlie, wrote something on a note and handed him a 5-credit bill, then came back to the table. "Just arranging for my duffel," he explained. "We may as well get acquainted until our new boss shows up."
They didn't have long to wait. Four leisurely beers, some gossip about mutual acquaintances in the Fleet, another sandwich and the arrival of Brodski's duffel bag later, the door opened (Van Damm still hadn't found where the peephole was) to admit Leo Makhno. He went to the bar, conversed briefly and quietly with Charlie-who pointed to Van Damm's and Brodski's table.
"Look alive," muttered Brodski, finishing his beer. "Here comes the recruiter."
The deal didn't take long to clinch, though the work was strange-training a small farmers' militia-and the pay was stranger.
"A . . . land-grant share?" Brodski repeated, swapping looks with Van Damm.
"And the profits thereof," Makhno finished. "Money's tight, but the trade's good and will get better. You want the deal or not?"
"Of course." Van Damm hurried to agree. "When do we start?"
"Soon as you're ready to go."
"Right now, then," said Brodski, pushing up from his seat.
Just then Charlie gave a low whistle and motioned to Makhno, who frowned and went back to the bar.
"Our new boss doesn't seem to want to spend time in Docktown," Van Damm observed. "Nor do I blame him."
Brodski didn't answer, watching Charlie lead the still-frowning Makhno through a backdoor. A moment later the pair reemerged, leading two nervous-looking young girls-both in their teens, both almost painfully pretty.
Makhno glumly marched back to the table. "Passengers," he explained. "Let's go."
He led the way out, the girls huddled close behind him, Van Damm and Brodski bringing up the rear. At the barn's outer door he paused to look up and down the street. "Come on," he almost whispered. "Quickly."
The direction he took was not toward the dock but northeast, up toward the river-mouth. He managed to look businesslike and nonchalant, but set a fast pace. The girls pulled scarves over their heads and did their best to look invisible in the dull light of Cat's Eye-set. Brodski and Van Damm automatically paced close behind, watching the shadows.
They'd made less than fifty meters when two skulking silhouettes came scurrying toward them. The whole party tensed and crouched, reaching under folds of clothing, but the two figures practically fell on their knees in front of Makhno and hailed him in quick whispers.
"Please, please, Maitre-Capitan-Makhno." Their voices, both female, jumbled together. "Take us with you- We don't want to work for Jomo-please-we will pay-some money-whatever you want-please-we've heard how women are left alone there-please-we can work-please . . ."
Makhno looked around, swore, motioned the two women into line behind him. "All right, all right," he whispered. "But keep quiet and keep together. We've got to move fast."
The women scurried to comply, and the party moved out again in the waning light of the planet above.
Brodski was in "drag" position of the little column when he heard the sound of a stu
Almost without thinking, Brodski drew his service automatic and nailed the origin of the sound with a 10mm slug, dropped his duffel bag, fell flat and rolled. He noted that his shot was rewarded by a ricochet sound and a yelp.
"Dammit, girl, get off my arm!" he heard Makhno snap.
The ZAP and flash of a CoDo stu
Brodski put two rounds at the spot the flash had come from, and rolled toward a low hummock in the dim light. This time a scream showed he'd made a clean hit.
There came a duck's "quack" from his left. Van Damm, he thought. "Duck." Right. Well, it looks like I get a chance to see him in action. He noticed a shadow moving from about where the quack had come from, and smiled. I'll hold this flank and let him chase them out to me. I'm a potted palm in this one.
There was movement almost dead ahead of him and slightly to the right. Their flank-man, possibly. If I wait, he might give me a better target.
Further to the left was another movement, and the quick gleam of sudden steel, but no sound. The spot he had been watching suddenly reared up and became man-sized; Brodski shot it. Van Damm wouldn't silhouette himself like that. The shadow fell.
At where he would have put the far end of the enemy position, something moved away-low and fast. Brodski considered it, but didn't shoot. The light was too uncertain and the range a bit much for the expenditure of a round.
For long seconds, nothing moved.
"Brodski" came Van Damm's voice out of the gloom. "I think I've got it cleared here."
"Okay, Owen. Coming out." . . . But where the hell were Makhno and the women? "What have we got?"
"It looks like there were four of them. Three dead. One got away," said Van Damm, frisking the body in front of him.
Brodski produced a pocket light, looked down and saw a corpse, expertly killed with a knife. It took a good man to get that close in what had been turning into a fire-fight. His estimation of Van Damm went up.
A powerful flashlight lit up the area, Makhno and the two girls just visible behind it.
"Did you get them?" he panted.
"Three out of four," came Van Damm's reply. "Not bad for this sort of thing."
Makhno's lightbeam hovered over the bodies. "Hmm, they look like Jomo's boys . . . . I'll wager they weren't trying to ambush us; more like, they were headed the same way we were-maybe chasing the women."
Brodski put his pocket light away and reloaded his pistol.
"Look what I've found!" chirped Van Damm. "A stun-rifle! I think you broke it though, Ski."
"Take it along, Mister Van Damm," said Makhno, climbing to his feet. "We don't waste anything."
"You take the woman on the right, Owen." Brodski sighed, thinking of the painful extra weight. "I'll take the other one."
Makhno sent the older girl (Mary) to search the bodies, and the younger (Rose) to bring Brodski's bag, while he helped the men pick up the stu