Rebels and Lovers by Linnea Sinclair Page B

shoved Trip’s ass, getting him crawling forward quickly. She chanced a peek over the top of the table, L7 out. She didn’t have a clear shot. The two laughing women at the bar had separated. One had unlocked a chair and swung it at Baldy. The woman was too far away, missing him by more than inches, but it made Baldy turn and snarl something. It was the distraction Kaidee needed.
    “Up! Run!” she yelled.
    Trip bolted forward through the obstacle course of tables, chairs, and patrons. Drinks flew. Kaidee’s boots slipped on puddles of frothy ale, and suddenly she was two, three people behind Trip as others moved to join the melee or lunged to get away from it.
    Curly, jacket still glistening with coffee, stepped onto an empty chair, then up onto the middle of a table, evidently deciding the decking was a less-useful route. Trip changed course, veering away not only from Curly but from the bar exit.
    Damn it!
That move would trap him against the corner bulkhead. It looked as if Trip’s smarts just went down the recyc.
    “This way!” she shouted, but he obviously wasn’t listening as he dodged around a small—and unrelated—fightbetween two brown-suited mechanics. The taller man reared back to level a punch. Trip ducked under his fist and up again, then ducked again as the opponent lunged, swinging.
    If the situation wasn’t so goddamned serious, Kaidee realized, it would be goddamned funny.
    Curly jumped to the next table, but before Kaidee could get him in her sights, two ship’s crew clambered up on the table in front of Curly, as they tried to escape from the ruckus. They blocked her shot at Curly.
    She swore harshly as she turned to look for Trip. Her heart clenched. He was gone.
    Under a table? He had to be, she hoped, crawling toward the bar. She sidled past another chair and the fighting mechanics, shouts, curses, and thuds sounding around her. She raked the decking with her gaze, then looked back at Curly and—
    Thwack!
The woman with the chair finally connected, catching Baldy between his shoulder blades. Kaidee watched just long enough to see the man flail and fall forward.
    Down but, she was sure, far from out. But it was one less thing she had to worry about for the next five—
    Shit
. A familiar form appeared between two ’droid servers standing rigidly behind the bar. Fuzz-face was back.

“Got something.” Devin glanced up from the embedded screen on his microcomp just in time to avoid running into an elderly couple shuffling quickly down the main corridor on Blue. He sidestepped and only then realized that Barthol’s hand already pressed against his shoulder, guiding him away from the near collision and around a zigzagging servobot. “Tidymart Pro is a toiletries dispenser service. Common in public lavatories.”
    Barthol nodded. “Makes sense. There is no lack of facilities on station. However—”
    “It’s not something Dock Five would necessarily provide for its denizens, yes. I thought of that.” Considering Dock Five barely provided breathable air. “Cross-referenced the corporation with product news feeds. Client base is generally hotels, restaurants.”
    “There are a number of possibilities on Blue. Blue Twelve, however, holds a couple of small hostels, a take-out eatery, and—”
    Two women and a man suddenly tumbled through an open doorway about fifty feet down the corridor, as if they’d been jammed by a billiards cue. They rolled, flailing, cursing. Another man followed—a brown-furred Takan in dockworker coveralls. He sprinted past them, dodging around a black-and-silver squat servobot on some unknown errand, and kept running, not looking back.
    Through that same doorway—more of a double-wide rectangular airlock complete with faded yellow-and-blacksafety striping—came the low whine of laser fire in several short bursts. Devin’s adrenaline spiked. In Tal Verdis, that would have stripers and private security converging on the location. Here, it barely garnered more