James Axler – Starfall

“What are you going to do?” Shaker asked Annie. He peered at her intently, arms relaxed at his sides.

“I’m thinking about reserving a seat on the last train to the coast for this triple-bastard stupe,” Annie replied. “Do you have any problems with that?”

“None,” Shaker replied without hesitation. “This man offered an effrontery to your guests without provocation.”

“And if I drop him right here?” the woman asked.

Ryan scanned the sec men, surprised when there were no pleas for Loomis’s life to be spared, or threats for the same. Shaker’s control over his men was strong.

“If you choose to drop him right here,” Shaker said, “then I’ll have my people drag his body out and throw it into the river.”

“Just like that?”

“Just,” Shaker said, “like that.”

Annie’s breath came tightly, and Ryan knew the woman was thinking of shooting the man more than releasing him.

“Annie,” Doc said softly at her side, “shooting him would put a damper on the night’s festivities. And the baron’s chef has gone to great trouble to provide a repast fit for courts and kingdoms. I am thinking that being gen­erous this night might not be such a bad thing.”

“It’s not in my nature to be overly generous, Theophilus,” Annie told him.

“There is an alternative punishment to chilling Loomis for his ill manners,” Doc said.

“I’m listening.”

“Send him to bed without his supper,” Doc said.

Turning to Doc at her side, Annie suddenly burst out laughing. When she got hold of herself, she said, “That’s got to be the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It is less messy,” Doc stated, “and wouldn’t hamper the appetites that surround these tables.”

Ryan also knew it would force Shaker to take an even firmer stand with his men, pushing the situation to a head between the two groups. He waited tensely.

“Mebbe you’re right,” Annie said. She returned her an­gry glare to Loomis. “Get your ugly face out of here, you stupe fucker, ’cause you’ll not eat at my tables tonight.”

Loomis didn’t move, glancing at Shaker.

The baron nodded toward the door.

Like a well-heeled dog, Loomis turned and went. The other sec men jeered at him, drawing angry curses from Loomis. But he took the punishment without an unkind word to Annie or Ryan.

“Again,” Shaker said to Annie, “I offer my humblest apologies, Annie. My men are quite used to living in the rough, and they don’t often acknowledge the finer behav­iors of civilization.”

Annie lowered the blaster and put it away. “Your apol­ogy’s accepted, Baron Shaker. But you tell that asshole if he looks at me crossways during the time you’re here, I’m going to put a bullet in both his eyes.”

“Of course,” Shaker replied. “Trust me when I say that you’ll never see him again.”

Annie turned to face the group. “Then what are you people waiting for? Let’s eat.”

The men fell to with gusto.

RYAN SAT at a table with the companions. Morse and Elmore sat at the far end, out of sight of Shaker and his sec men in case any of them recognized the Heimdall Foun­dation man, or Junie’s captain from Idaho Falls. So far, they hadn’t drawn a second glance.

As a precaution, Ryan kept the SIG-Sauer in his left hand under the table, managing his meal with the right. J.B. kept the Uzi out of sight under the table, but he was ready to move, as well.

Baron Shaker held court at one of the center tables. Doc and Annie were seated with him, listening to the big man’s stories. He seemed to be well-read, because most of the conversation between the three of them centered on works of literature. Ryan recognized some of the names.

“What do you get about him?” Ryan asked Krysty.

She shook her head, and he noticed that she was only picking at her food. He couldn’t remember if she’d eaten a self-heat in the barn. “Not much, lover,” she answered in a whisper. “He’s here for definite reasons that he feels very strongly about, but I can’t fathom what they are.”

“Anybody recognize Elmore?”

“Not that I’ve noticed.” She looked at him, her emerald eyes threaded with red. “But I can’t be sure, Ryan. Keeping Phlorin locked away in the back of my mind could be in­terfering with my gift.”