{Spill the Tea}: Gossip at Ormec Five—Part 2

This is Part 2 of a two-part story. Click here to start from Part 1.

“May I have your name, Friend?” he asked.

“Ah, m-my apologies, Sir,” said the Harteen, his topknot waving, moving back to formal form as he ducked his head in embarrassment, wringing his hands. “My name is Tause.”

“Well met, Friend Tause,” said Shane, switching back to casual form, noting the way it made Tause instantly relax, his thin shoulders loosening at his equal standing with his patron.

“Well met, Sir…?”

“Shane,” he replied. “My name is Shane. Shane Kelworth.”

Tause stilled behind the bar, his lanky body tensing in surprise at Shane’s name. The Harteen’s almond-shaped eyes widened, staring at Shane with newfound fear, his topknot and the follicles around his mouth waving in abject anxiety, and then he began to reach beneath the bar again, supposedly for another bottle, but Shane knew better than that.

“I’ll bet you the cost of both my orders of gral’nak, Friend Tause, that the standard-issue pulse rifle you’re reaching for doesn’t have a serial number,” he said. “Something the local OPD agents tend to really get annoyed about.”

Tause straightened again, glaring at Shane, who watched as the taller alien clenched his hands into fists.

Shane leaned back in his stool in false relaxation, his other hand over the pulse pistol hidden in his jacket pocket, keeping his features deliberately blank, not looking away from Tause’s violet eyes as the Harteen stood frozen in place, staring down at him with fury.

“That’s right, Friend Tause, take it easy,” said Shane, nodding and taking another sip of gral’nak, waving the half-full glass in Tause’s direction.

“In fact,” he continued, “I’m fairly certain Harteenal frowns on its prestigious trade school graduates getting docked by Outer Planet Defense officers for having an unauthorized weapon in their possession. Using that pulse rifle is a one-way ticket to you losing both your trade license and your parents’ continued patronage. It’s best for the both of us if you keep your hands away from beneath the bar.”

“I could kill you before you can lay a single finger on me,” said Tause in a snarl, the follicles of his mouth twisting in anger.

“Unlikely,” replied Shane, “but you are welcome to try.”

The human and Harteen stared at each other for a few tense moments, before Tause snarled in abject disgust and turned away from him, busying himself with clearing empty glasses from the rest of the bar, the few other patrons paying them no mind.

“I know all about you, Diplomat Kelworth,” said Tause in formal tone, looking stubbornly away from the human, topknot waving in tension, not bothering to hide his distaste for Shane’s name. “You killed your host family on Harteenal! Made a mockery of my peoples’ generosity to the First Earth Delegation! The Lord and Lady Holtvahm, and their twin daughters, gone in a well-placed blast on their estate! I still remember the holovids, from all those years ago.”

“I was framed,” said Shane wearily, is reply the same as it ever was when a Harteen confronted him about his ill-begotten past.

He missed being on Harteenal, deep in his soul, missed its crimson red trees and foliage, its abundant rivers and the hidden warmth of a stoic but well-meaning people. It had become a home away from home for him, years ago, but that path was gone for him. Taken from him. Shane had since accepted that he now made his home in the cold depths of space, and it wasn’t perfect or even ideal, but it was his, and wishing wouldn’t change the past.

“You expect me to believe that utter drivel of an excuse?” said Tause, turning back to him, his fury not lessened even slightly.

“No, Friend Tause, I do not,” said Shane, draining his glass before leaving it on the counter.

“Still, that doesn’t change the facts,” he continued, the alcohol having loosened his inhibitions, and he switched back to casual form despite Tause’s verbal efforts to distance their standing.

“Speaking of which, I’m not here by chance, Friend Tause,” he said. “You should know, I was recently paid a large amount of money to kill you.”

Tause stilled again, his violet eyes widening once more, and he reached down beneath the bar for the pulse rifle.

But Shane reached out over the bar with lightning-quick reflexes and seized the Harteen’s thin wrists in his own, gripping tight, feeling the alien’s bones flex beneath his stronger grip. He could easily break the man’s wrists, and Tause stilled, panting lightly in frustration.

“Let go of me!” he cried.

“Keep your voice down, damn you,” said Shane in a whisper, leaning closer over the bar. “I’m not going to hurt you, Tause, but you need to stop making a scene. Now relax, and listen to me.”

“Why should I?” the alien replied, his topknot waving erratically.

“Because, if you knew anything about Diplomat Kelworth, you would know he would never kill a Harteen,” said Shane behind clenched teeth, “no matter what he was paid. Believe what you wish, but my loyalty was always to Harteenal, and to Earth, not to who pays me.”

“So why take the money?”

Shane laughed under his breath.

“If they want to pay me for something I won’t do, they don’t need to know that,” he said. “And I do like the pay. All those many zeroes, deposited right to my account. Their loss, not mine.”

“They’ll come after you,” said Tause by way of reply, his taller body tense as he stood hunched over half-beneath the bar counter with Shane gripping his wrists. His violet eyes gleamed as he looked at the smaller human in a combination of fear and anger.

“Of course they will, and I’ll kill them, instead of you,” said Shane with false cheer.

“You don’t honestly think I’m the first one sent to kill the best outernet hacker on Harteenal, did you?” he continued. “I’m just the one that got to you first. You’re welcome, by the way. I did you a favor and took care of the three other mercs that wanted their own cut of the bounty on your head.”

“Ah, there-there must be some m-m-mistake! I—I’m no hacker,” said Tause, spluttering, and the earnest lie in the Harteen’s words made Shane burst out laughing.

“You’re no liar, either, Friend Tause,” he said. “Don’t be so modest. It was a good cover, the humble bartender who makes just enough to get off-planet and tend bar in this dungheap, but you can’t fool all of us.”

Shane leaned closer to Tause, lowering his voice to a whisper as he grinned at the taller being in honest admiration.

“The Fortea Bail Bonds Escape on Di’ranri?” he said. “I’m a big fan of that heist, let me tell you! I analyzed the logs for weeks with my team, before we figured out how you rewrote the security codes in layered quantum cryptographs. Gorgeous work, pure genius, or so my associates told me. It’s all lemshes to me, but I can tell you’re an artist at heart.”

He leaned back slightly, easing the pressure off Tause’s wrists, and was gratified as he saw the Harteen’s shoulders relax. Tause was his mark, after all, but that didn’t mean Shane wanted the man to actively distrust him, more than he already did, at any rate.

“You do good work, Friend Tause,” he said, “but you also left a trail, as best as you tried to hide it. Now, I can’t guarantee more goons won’t come after you here on Ormec. But if you’re with me? On my ship? We’ll always be one step ahead of them.”

“Ahead of who?” said Tause.

Shane shrugged, his long faux leather jacket rustling as he finally let go of Tause.

The Harteen stood to his full height and rubbed his thin wrists absently with long fingers, looking at Shane with a calculating gaze.

“The Sapphire Conclave was the one that paid me for your head,” said Shane. “Then there’s also the Deacons’ Reach, who were the hired security for the Bail Bonds that night. And the idiots in the Starlight Corporation, who thought to try their hand at getting a cut from Sapphire. You did everything right, Tause, but you didn’t do enough cleanup after yourself. So here we are.”

“That… is a lot of interest in my affairs,” said Tause after a long moment.

Violet eyes peered into Shane’s own, and Shane could see his own blue gaze reflected in Tause’s large pupils.

“Come with me, and let me protect you, Friend,” said Shane, not bothering to hide the plea in his tone. “I’m not saying I want you to work for me, though I wouldn’t complain. But I also have no idea who else is going to walk into this bar. Any second, we could be in for a firefight, and then we’ll have no choice but to use that damn pulse rifle you keep reaching for on our way out this station.”

The Harteen and human stared at each other for a few moments more.

While Tause silently deliberated, Shane took the opportunity to drain his forgotten glass of the last few drops of gral’nak he had missed before. As he placed the glass down on the counter, he wondered if he could convince Tause to bring the whole bottle, if things went his way.

“So what will it be, Friend Tause?” he asked. “Fancy something more exciting than bartending?”

“…I suppose so,” said Tause finally, nodding, and had the grace to place his palms together and give Shane a perfunctory formal bow, that indicated his offer of protection had been accepted.

“Great,” replied Shane, standing and giving a matching bow in return, his steps slightly off-kilter from his earlier drink.

“Knew you’d see my side of things eventually, Friend,” he said. “And besides, the whole ‘not dying’ thing is always a plus.”

He fished into his pockets and slammed a few credit chips onto the counter, more than enough to pay his bill and tip, and gestured impatiently towards the door as Tause grabbed a bag from beneath the counter. Shane smirked to himself as he saw the barrel of the pulse rifle hidden beneath the fabric.

Tause ambled to the human’s side.

“I must ask, Friend Shane, is this always the kind of gossip meant when someone ‘spills the tea?’”

The Harteen began to match Shane stride for stride as they quickly exited the bar and moved with intent towards the ship docks.

“No idea, Friend Tause,” he replied, looking over his shoulder, “but it’s what we got. Now, let’s pick up the pace and get to my ship. I’d like to avoid that firefight, if possible…”

“Well, just in case this motivates you to fight fiercer in that event, Friend Shane,” said Tause, “you should know that I took the bar’s entire remaining bottle of gral’nak in my bag.”

Shane whipped his head back around to stare up at Tause, who grinned at him, and Shane barked out a laugh, the pair beginning to run down the corridor towards where the ship was docked.

“Yeah, Aldora was right about you,” he said wryly. “A Harteen with a mind of pure genius. Let’s hurry, Friend Tause!”

With that, the adventures between the human and Harteen had just begun!