The bar was one of the quieter ones. Beryn told himself he was just going in to relax for a while. It was a change, an escape from people he knew too well. It was dark inside, the music mellow. The patrons were few. He took a spot near the bar, where he could listen in to conversations around him.
He didn't hear much that was interesting. No one seemed to be too concerned about treason or the Federation or anything other than the spring weather and the elections coming up soon. No one mentioned anything about trade, either. He was just about to leave, to find somewhere a little more exciting, when a woman squeezed into the seat next to him.
She had copper colored hair that hung in curling ringlets down her back. Her waist was tiny, cinched in tightly with a golden belt. The dress she wore was soft green and hinted at curves underneath. She smiled, a brilliant smile that dazzled him.
"Buy me a drink?" Her voice was soft, inviting intimacy. She glanced at him through her eyelashes. They were very long and thick. Her eyes were the same copper as her hair.
"Sure," he said and signaled the bartender. He was only talking, looking for information, he told himself. He hadn't done anything to feel guilty about. He could almost feel Paltronis frowning at him. They had an understanding, but not an exclusive relationship, not yet. He smiled at the woman sitting next to him.
"Thank you," she said as the bartender placed a drink in front of her. She picked it up, licking the straw. Her lips were very red and full. She puckered them, an invitation to do more than watch.
Beryn shifted back on his stool, giving her the subtle cue that he wasn't interested.
She let the straw go and put the glass back on the counter. "My name's Ananda." She held out a slender hand. Her nails were painted a shimmering gold.
"Beryn," he answered. He didn't take her hand. He just wanted to talk. He suspected she charged for her services anyway.
"You just get in?" She glanced down at his shipsuit. "What ship are you with?"
"A freighter," he said evasively. "You work this section of town often?"
Her face went cold and rigid, but only for a moment. She slid a pleasant mask over her face, but he could see the anger in her eyes.
"Not often, and I'm not what you think," she said.
"No, you're too classy to work the docks," Beryn said.
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"If you want it to be."
She turned her back to the bar and leaned on it. It was a pose, designed to make her curves even more dramatic. He glanced down then deliberately looked back to her face.
"You don't like women?"
"I'm more interested in conversation," he answered truthfully.
"But not about your ship."
"Let's just say, I've had enough of it. I'm pretending to run away."
She laughed, a genuine laugh this time. The anger slid away as if it had never been. "Then I've got time and I'm willing if you are."
"Willing for what?"
"Anything you want," she said provocatively.
"Like I said, I'm not interested in more than talk."
"Then we'll just talk. What do you want to talk about?"
"Why are there so few ships in port? There should be at least a hundred. That's been puzzling me since we landed."
"I wouldn't know." She looked past him, as if bored by the topic.
That caught Beryn's interest. She had singled him out for some reason. He was going to find out why.
She looked back at him. "Do you know anything about that ship that almost crashed a few days ago? Everyone's been talking about it. They say the crew was lucky to survive." She reached out and ran one finger down the front of his shipsuit. "You're from that ship, aren't you?"
"And what difference will it make if I am?"
"Tell me what happened. Tell me what it's like to almost die." She slid closer to him. She licked her lips as she leaned into him. "Was it exciting?"
"Only for a few minutes, and then it was over." He couldn't deny he found her breathless attention flattering.
"So that is your ship," she said and smiled. "You want to play games? I ask you questions and you answer and then you can have your turn."
He shook his head. "I've got to get back." There was something about her that tweaked his warning sense. Something wasn't quite right about her interest.
"What's the name of your ship?" she asked again.
"Enjoy your drink." He dropped money on the counter and left.
He glanced back from the door. She was still sitting, watching him, sipping her drink.
"Come back sometime," she called across the bar. "I'll make it very worth your while."
"I don't doubt that," he said.
He walked away from the bar, not quite sure why he felt unsettled. He paused, looking across the dark landing field. The Phoenix was out by itself, surrounded by empty berths. The few ships in port were clustered over on the far side of the field, near the port offices.
The hatch of the Phoenix was open, spilling golden light onto the field. Someone stood on the ramp, looking out into the night. Probably Dace or Jasyn. He jingled the junk in his pockets. He didn't want to go back, not yet.
He walked to the side, past several businesses closed for the night. He found another bar. The sound of rowdy laughter and loud music beckoned him inside.
There was a game of Comets going on in one corner. They invited him to play. He forgot the strange woman after winning three hands in a row. He stayed out most of the night. He brought back more money than he left with.