36.

Having passed through security with much less pomp and circumstance than the last station, Jaxon and Francisco headed for the bars. Initially, Jaxon felt that the strip club was a good approach, but with Francisco as his partner, he decided to keep it tame. Jaxon wasn't so sure if Francisco had even seen a naked woman in person, let alone talked to her openly about drugs. He figured the right bartender might have the information they were looking for.

As they walked along the much smaller pavilion streets, Jaxon and Francisco were silent. Jaxon instantly regretted not bringing Camille instead, because they at least had a history to pass the time. With Francisco, he was cut from a different cloth.

Passing by the first few dive bars, he came to a particularly dark saloon. The wall had a saying below: a rare place where high and low rub elbows. Without hesitation, Jaxon stepped in, followed closely by Francisco.

The mangy establishment was almost empty. Save for a few locals shooting pool at the back and a few daring businessmen, the place was a ghost town. Exactly what Jaxon was hoping for.

He walked up to the bar and took a seat. Francisco sat next to him, closer to the exit door. Jaxon smiled internally at Francisco's nervousness.

The solitary bartender was dropping off drinks by the pool table, giving them a few moments of silence before he would return. Francisco chose that time to speak.

"You don't like me," he said. "But, if you just give me a chance, I-"

"I don't think that's necessarily the case, Clay. I'm sure you're a fine man, it's just how this team was assembled that has me off center," Jaxon said, flagging down the returning bartender.

Before Francisco could continue, he'd arrived.

"What'll it be?" he asked in a gruff voice, completely selling the dive bar aura.

"Two whiskeys, neat," Jaxon said, tapping his credit stick on the receiver at the edge of the bar.

"But I don't drink whiskey," Clay said nervously.

"Well, kid, today you do," Jaxon smiled and gave him a wink.

The bartender didn't go far, pouring their drinks right in front of them. Before Jaxon could ask anything further, the bartender retreated to the far side of the bar to tend to one of the businessmen.

After a few moments of lingering silence, Jaxon continued. "I'm just a little frustrated at Howe and Evans for how they threw this team together. They gave me a trained agent with limited field activity, Camille. They gave me a recently deactivated field agent that had half of his personnel file blacked out. And then there's you. You've had what? Twelve hours of simulation training?"

"Well, it's closer to fifteen hours but-"

"And there's my point. You can't train an agent in a simulator in less than sixty hours. I just don't know what Howe was thinking-"

"But I've been tasked with this mission for almost a year. I know exactly what to look for when we get to the right place. I'll know whether they're trying to pass off something else that's not Whitetail. I'll know what to look for in the production facility. You see, there's more to being an agent than just being able to shoot somebody up and defend yourself," Francisco said.

Jaxon took a sip of his whiskey before swallowing the rest of the glass in one gulp. He looked at Francisco then at the glass in front of him.

Francisco picked up his glass and repeated Jaxon's every step. Sip-pause-gulp. He nearly retched as the lukewarm liquid burned its way down his throat.

"See? It's good, ain't it?" Jaxon asked. He tapped his glass on the edge of the bar and waved at the bartender. He held his fingers up for another round.

After several deep swallows of saliva, Francisco slid his empty glass forward, reluctantly, just as the bartender returned to pour them each a new drink. Before the bartender left, Francisco slipped his own UNEX pod out and tap it out the edge of the bar. "This round is on me."

Jaxon picked up his glass and held it in his palm, warming the liquid from the heat of his hand. "Much obliged. But in the end, Howe is the one who's buying the drinks today."

The bartender turned and left after filling the glasses. Francisco held his hand up as if to ask him a question, but the gesture went unseen. Then he looked at Jaxon. "Should we ask him?"

"In time. It'll look too suspicious if we come and have a drink and then go straight to asking about buying drugs. Even though this is the outer ring, there's still a semblance of order that needs to be respected."

"So it's a game then," Francisco said, trying to decipher it like it was a code.

Jaxon sniffed at his scotch. "Yeah, kind of. I've been in my fair share of bars just like this and have seen many atrocities. Coming in here and just asking for some drug isn't really top-level spy kind of stuff, but regardless, it needs to be handled appropriately. Besides, we're looking for more than just buying the drug. We're looking for the source. If we play our cards right, we should be able to get both."

Jaxon tossed back his whiskey in one gulp and savored the oaky inebriant in his mouth for a long moment before swallowing it down. Francisco chose not to imitate Jaxon again and just sipped at it, as he rightfully should have the first time.

As the two of them sat at the edge of the bar, silently, Jaxon noticed two men walk in. They were clearly not regulars and were dressed in black jumpsuits with no identifiable insignia anywhere. Each of them wore heavy canvas belts at their waist, supporting a number of compartments.

"Don't look now, but it looks like we might have company," Jaxon said, tapping his drink at the edge of the bar once more.

Francisco took another sip, and as he set the glass back on the bar top, he nonchalantly looked toward the entry and saw the men. He returned his gaze to Jaxon, showing no signs of panic. Jaxon was certain it was there, just below the surface, but was proud of Francisco for trying.

"Why don't you go call the Buddha and have them meet us at the dock in forty-five minutes?" Jaxon said, maintaining a forward stare.

"Do you expect trouble?" Francisco asked.

"Don't know," Jaxon shrugged. "But better be safe than sorry."

"What about you? Are you going to-"

"When you leave, hopefully, the friendly visitors there will tail you, giving me a chance to talk to the bartender," Jaxon said.

Francisco tossed the rest of his drink back and winced slightly. He placed the glass on the bar, and said, "See you shortly, boss," then walked away. Jaxon remained looking forward, but with the mirrors behind the bar, the reflection gave him a view of the front door. As Francisco walked out, he gave the two security men a courtesy nod but avoided direct eye contact. Within minutes, the two men turned on their heels and followed him out. Perfect, Jaxon thought.

37.

A few minutes later, the bartender returned, holding the bottle of whiskey. "Another?"

Jaxon smiled. "Sure, just one more. And then, maybe a bit of information?" he asked, dialing up a few hundred credits on his pod, allowing the bartender to see the amount.

He tipped the spout into Jaxon's glass and added two fingers to the bottom. "What kind of information?"

"I'm looking for Whitetail," Jaxon asked bluntly. "Before you get amnesia, I'm not a cop, and I'm not looking for any trouble. Just looking to buy a few doses."

The bartender returned the whiskey bottle to the shelf behind him and turned back to Jaxon. He leaned on the back edge of the bar top and stared right into Jaxon's eyes. Their gaze remained locked for several moments. Jaxon contemplated what the bartender might be thinking, but decided to remain stoic in hopes of obtaining the needed information.

The bartender sniffed briefly then wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Funny thing, that Whitetail. It's quite elusive these days. If you'd been here a month ago, there'd been ten guys standing along the streets selling you all they had. But, something happened a few weeks back. Whitetail just disappeared. All the dealers in town have gone dark. Not sure what's going on, but it's clear that the market is changing."

Jaxon pondered this new information. "It just dried up? Anybody know why?"

"Not a clue," the bartender said. "Personally, I'm happier that it's out of here. I've heard some bad things about it as I'm sure you have too. Listen, I'm usually a pretty good judge of character, and you don't seem the type. I'm sure there's something else that's more to your liking."

"Thanks for being honest. To tell the truth, you're right. It's not my bag either. But I've got ... personal reasons behind my request," Jaxon said as he dialed up a few hundred credits more on his pod and held it over the edge of the bar. "Any information about it would be greatly appreciated."

The bartender looked down at the large three-figure credit on Jaxon's pod display. He nodded, and Jaxon tapped the pod at the bar, zeroing out the display.

"You can't get any on Beta Station, or the next two closest stations either. Word is you can get it on Delta Station, but you'd be a fool if you went there looking for it."

"Why is that?" Jaxon asked, downing his third whiskey.

"Delta Station isn't quite what it appears on the surface. Not only is it the largest station in the outer ring, there are some questionable activities going on there. One minds their P's and Q's, if you know what I mean."

Jaxon understood. After many years in the field, he'd learned how to read a person's character. If Jaxon's skills of interpreting were still sharp, he thought his new friend had had some type of formalized training in his past. Much like his own.

"Much obliged, sir. Looks like my next stop is Delta Station."

A look of surprise flourished on the bartender's face. "You must be desperate. Maybe you didn't get exactly what I was saying. It's a dangerous place. They have the highest level of security of any station in the ring, and trust me when I tell you, it's not worth it."

Jaxon nodded. "I understand. My hands are tied, and I need this."

"Well, then, here's some free advice. When you get there, you'll have two choices. One is a female casino dealer that has the right connections. The other is an exotic woman working for Madame Elina at The Pleasure Gauntlet. Try one of those two, and be sure to watch your six."

"How about names?" Jaxon asked as he began to dial up his UNIX pod again.

"Put it away, friend. I don't have names for you, but I can give you some descriptions. The casino dealer will be hard to miss. She'll be the one with fire engine red hair. As for the hooker, she's quite the buxom beauty with auburn hair ... or was it a blonde?" the bartender asked himself.

"Red hair in the casino, blonde on the hooker. Got it."

The bartender stood and cleared the two whiskey glasses from the bar top. "Good luck, you're gonna need it."

With that, he turned and walked away. Jaxon sat for a moment longer, digesting everything that he'd just heard. He was nearly giddy with excitement, being almost certain that they found the facility so quickly. He'd anticipated having to visit nearly all of the dozen or so stations in the belt before they found what they were looking for.

Gleefully, Jaxon dialed up a few more credits on his pod and tapped it on the bar top.

Jaxon left the dive bar, retracing his steps through the pavilion. Before making his way back to the ship, though, he decided to hit a few shops along the way. He had a budding idea for a new plan, and picking up a number of items now would make all the difference.

After thirty minutes in a few clothing shops, Jaxon finished his path back to the docks, where he found an eager Francisco waiting.

38.

Oliver sat at the pilot's station with his seatback reclined and his feet resting on the edge of the control panel. Mindlessly, he stared at the ceiling. The hiss of the door opening and closing brought him out of an unimportant daydream. He looked up and saw a Camille walking groggily toward him. She sat down in the copilot's chair and smiled.

"How long have I been out?" she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Oliver glanced at the clock. "Few hours? Give or take," he said.

A look of panic flashed in her eyes. "Jesus, what about Beta Station?"

"Changed. Couldn't dock, so boss and Francisco went out while you and I stayed back. Felt it was better to let you rest as opposed to waking you and-"

"Damn him," Camille said. "How long have they been gone?"

"Thirty, maybe, forty minutes? We're just sitting a few hundred meters away from the dock, waiting. They shouldn't be long. They said they were going to check out a few places and then we'd move on to the next station," Oliver said, returning his gaze to the ceiling above.

Camille grumbled under her breath before mimicking Oliver's stance. "I guess there's not much else for us to do-"

"But stare at the ceiling," Oliver said, completing her thoughts.

As Camille relaxed in the chair, her mind tried to analyze Jaxon's thoughts. Why did he go on station without waking her? Was he hiding something? And what about bringing Francisco? Surely he should have at least brought Oliver instead. There had to be some reason.

"So, tell me, Camille. What's your story?" Oliver asked.

"Come again? I don't follow," Camille said.

"You know, between you and boss? There's clearly some kind of history, and he seems to revert to a schoolboy mentality when you're around."

Camille exhaled. She'd known the questioning would come around at some point, but she'd hoped that she'd be able to sidestep it. At least they were alone, and Jaxon wasn't around to contradict either of their histories with his own words.

"Jaxon and I go way back. More than ten years."

Oliver whistled.

"Actually, we were engaged," Camille said, expecting another surprised whistle out of Oliver, but there was just silence. She leaned her head to the side and saw him sitting upright in his chair, a look of complete surprise on his face.

"What? People get married all the time," Camille said defensively.

"Then, what happened?" Oliver asked, returning to his relaxation position.

"I'm not sure. We were living together eight or nine years ago, and things seemed to be okay, then Jaxon just ... died. I thought he really died. And now he tells everyone he just faked it all."

"That son of a bitch. How could he leave such a wonderful woman like you in such a predicament?"

Before Camille could respond, an incoming communications alert echoed throughout the cockpit. Oliver accepted it.