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2

Della Dee pushed the door open and stepped inside. A neon nude ran the length of the opposite wall. Pink nipples flashed on and off. They stopped as the door closed. Smoke hung in slowly drifting layers. One of Terra's most popular vocalists moaned seductively in the background, her voice distorted by the bar's cheap sound system.

Dee's boots made a clacking sound as she approached the bar, selected a stool, and sat down. It was early yet, and while half the tables were occupied, Dee had the bar to herself. Every man in the room turned to stare.

Dee had bright green eyes, flawless skin, and a nice figure. She wore a white blouse under flat black body armor, skintight pants, and knee-high boots. The slug gun rode high and tight in a cross-draw holster. But it was the flaming red hair that drew their attention. It was and always had been both a blessing and a curse, attracting men like moths to a flame.

Dee looked too straight to be a whore, too hard to be a citizen on the prowl, and too good to be unattached. Long red fingernails made a clicking sound as they hit the bar.

The bartender looked, liked what he saw, and nodded. He had a bullet-shaped head, a wrestler's torso, and massive arms. He grabbed an aluminum cask, heaved it off the floor, and dropped it into a cradle. It hit with a distinct thud. The bartender smiled as he turned around.

"What'll it be, honey?"

Dee ignored the bartender's leer. "A beer plus some information."

The bartender frowned. His eyebrows came together into a straight line. He ran a rag over the spot in front of him. "What kind of information?"

Dee smiled reassuringly. "Nothing complicated. Take a look at this."

For the sixteenth time that day Dee slipped the holo cube out of her pocket and placed it on the bar. The bartender lifted the device up to eye level and gave it a squeeze. A man appeared. He had bushy eyebrows, a long straight nose, and a tight thin-lipped mouth. His eyes were bright blue and stared out from cavernous sockets. An alkie or a wire-head. The bartender saw them every day.

"So you're a bounty hunter. What'd he do? Walk away from his bar tab?"

Dee shook her head. "Nothing like that. He's a friend of mine. Have you seen him?"

A calculating grin stole over the bartender's face. "And what if I have? What would you give me?"

Dee shrugged. "Ten credits and a sincere 'thank you.'"

The bartender leaned forward, closing the distance between them to a foot or so. "How 'bout something a little more personal? Something you'd enjoy as much as I would?"

Dee sighed. She forced herself to be patient. "I've got a headache. The offer stands. Have you seen this man or not?"

The bartender shrugged. He nodded toward the far side of the lounge. "He's over there. In the side room. Playing it big with some drunks."

Dee felt her spirits leap. Finally! She slapped some currency on the bar. "Thanks."

"What about your beer?"

A roid miner had passed out at the nearest table. Dee gestured in her direction. "Give it to her when she wakes up."

The bartender nodded and turned away.

Dee felt eyes follow her as she walked across the room. The sensation was nothing new. Some were curious, some wanted her body, and some were afraid.

They were like rabbits crouched in their burrows as the fox strolled by. They saw past the cloud of bright red hair, past the pretty face, all the way to the slug gun with reactive grips. They saw the way she moved, the way her eyes slid over their faces, and knew exactly what she was. A huntress, a self-employed killer, a bounty hunter.

They had nothing to fear however since Dee's attention was focused on other things. She had been sitting face-to-face with the Imperial consul when Cap spilled his guts to the media.

The consul had been interested, very interested, especially in the drifter. And why not? The ship was loaded with advanced technology, stuff years ahead of anything the Il Ronn had, and worth millions of credits.

The consul had studied the holo pix, viewed the vid tapes, and was just about to say something when an aide had slipped into the room. Words were whispered and a wall-sized vid screen appeared.

The consul was a small man, very dapper, and carefully manicured. He smiled. "Bear with us for a moment, Citizen Dee. It seems that channel twenty-three has some news of interest to us both."

So Dee had been forced to sit there, squirming in her seat, as Cap spilled everything he knew to a man with a carefully arranged smile. Everything but the actual location of the drifter. Somehow, some way, Cap had retained enough brains to keep mum about that.

But the damage was considerable. The consul was no fool. Why pay for something you can get for free? All he had to do was send some people after Cap, sweat him a bit, and wait for the information to pop out. And failing that he could reopen negotiations with Dee.

So Dee had left the consulate with two humans and a robot on her tail. It had taken a full hour to ditch all three of them, and by the time she called channel twenty-three, Cap had slipped away. She got the impression that they were looking for him too.

And then, about two bars back—or was it three?—Dee had seen the special report. She'd been back in a corner, talking to a four-armed cyborg, when the feed came on-screen. A weird-looking camera shot that lurched up out of the sea, swept back and forth, and focused on Pik Lando. Dee saw Lando get to his feet, saw Melissa run, and knew that a bad situation had just turned worse.

Dee felt a troubling emptiness in the pit of her stomach. She'd gone after Pik herself a few months before, and had caught him too, but lost him in an ambush. She'd been wounded, and had nearly died, but Pik had pulled her through. Pik,

Melissa, the strange little cyborg who called himself "Cy Borg," and, yes, Cap. Without trying, without meaning to, she'd become part of a family.

So she cared about them and that made her stomach feel empty. That's the problem with loving people. It makes you vulnerable. Life or death can take them away.

Dee thought about Pik, thought about losing him, and knew it would hurt. If ever there had been a chance for a relationship it was with him. With a man who, in spite of his profession, was basically honest. With a man who fought for lost causes, took little girls under his wing, and was willing to risk his life for a bounty hunter he didn't even know.

She forced the thought away. Never mind Pik. If there was a way to reach Brisco City, he'd find it. Her job was to find Cap, put him under wraps, and be ready to lift when Pik arrived.

The door sensed her presence and slid open. The room was small and thick with smoke. Light came from a single source in the ceiling. It bathed Cap in a hard white glare. He lay on the tabletop with his pockets turned inside out. His hair was in disarray, and he had a two-day growth of beard, but she could still see signs of the man he'd once been. The high forehead, the firm jaw, and the thin-lipped mouth had been handsome once. Just right for a promising young officer.

Dee thought Cap was dead at first, but then she saw his chest move and found a pulse. He smelled of sour alcohol.

Dee shook her head sadly, grabbed one of Cap's arms, and pulled him into a fireman's carry. She was strong, and like many alcoholics, Sorenson was light. The door opened at her approach.

"Come on, Cap. Let's go home."

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