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“I mean it.”
“You cheater!” a man yelled, and a table crashed to the floor on the other side of the dance floor.
It happened so fast. Fig spun to see what was going on, but a loud blast filled the room. One of the men who’d been playing cards now stood and held a weapon. A second man sitting in a chair hit the floor, a hole torn through his chest from the laser blast. Other men jumped on the one holding the weapon. They tore it out of his hand and took him to the ground.
Fig needed to leave. The authorities would be called, wanting everyone to make statements. They might ask for identification. He turned back to Anna.
Her mouth was open, her eyes wide. She lowered her head, and he followed her gaze. The laser had gone through the man seated at the destroyed table and into her side, where her arm was still lifted to hold her drink. Her hand gripping his shirt eased until she let go.
He grabbed Anna before she fell over and cradled her in his arms. “Get help. She’s been hit,” Fig yelled at the bartender.
“Fig?”
He looked down at Anna’s face. All the color seemed to leach out of her wrinkled cheeks. “Hang on, Anna. I’ll carry you to their medical facility.”
She reached up and touched his face. “Don’t. This is the best way to go. You’re holding me, and I’m not alone. Thank you. When I’m gone, go find that woman. Promise me.”
He opened his mouth, ready to say anything she wanted to hear. Anna’s eyes closed before he could, and her hand dropped. He used his elbow and shoved her purse aside, laying her flat on the top of the bar counter. She wasn’t breathing anymore. He checked the wound and saw the extent of the damage. There was no way to save her.
“Fuck.” The bartender came over. “Is she dead?”
It took seconds for Fig to answer, so horrified and stunned by what had just happened. “Yes.”
“Is she a relation to you?”
“No.”
“Just leave her. She’s not a resident, and I know she’s staying in the B section on deck two. Maintenance will come to get rid of her body.”
“What?” Fig was in shock over how Anna had died like that. It had happened too fast for his mind to process.
“B section means she’s poor. Someone like her doesn’t have family who would pay for a decent funeral. We get a lot of fights in here, so the clean-up crew will just toss her body into the furnace with the trash.”
That outraged Fig. “No. I’ll see that she gets a proper funeral.” It would mean he’d have to stick around until the authorities cleared the scene, but he wasn’t allowing that kind of cruelty to happen to Anna’s body. She wouldn’t be disposed of like trash.
“Then take her body and go to section C on deck five. There’s a morgue there, and they can arrange something for the right price.”
Fig glanced around. The man who’d fired the weapon was gone. “Aren’t the authorities going to investigate?”
The bartender snorted. “Where in the hell do you think you are? We don’t have a judge, and nobody wants to pay to transport that piece of shit to somewhere that does. Justice will be served when he’s tossed into the trash furnace for killing two people. I’m sure that’s where they dragged him off. Weapons aren’t allowed to be fired on the station, and murder is an instant death sentence. Case closed.”
He looked down at Anna.
“Hang on. I’ve got a tarp around here somewhere. You don’t want people staring at you for carrying a body through the station. It wouldn’t be the first time, but some tourists get upset. A large pleasure cruiser docked half an hour ago. I don’t want them to see you coming out of my bar with her and think it’s a dangerous place to visit. It’s bad for business.” The bartender walked away but returned a minute later. “Here. Wrap her and go.”
Pure rage gripped Fig. He hated to put Anna in a tarp, but he had no choice. He didn’t want to draw more attention to himself. He gently eased her wrapped body over his shoulder and picked up her purse. He wasn’t leaving it behind for thieves to take. Anna hadn’t deserved to die that way. She should be alive and smiling. It wasn’t fair.
He exited the bar and lowered his chin to hide his features as much as possible when large groups of people milled between the shops. He reached the wide corridor that led to his shuttle and turned. Nine other ships shared the docking sleeve.
“Hey!” A man grinned at him. He’d set up his wares right in front of where his ship had docked. “Fresh meat.”
Fig kept walking.
“It’s as fresh as the day it was slaughtered. The butcher cuts them up, and they go into instant cryo freeze. It’s like he handed it to you right over the counter.”
Fig stopped and noticed the cryo freezers for the first time. The vendor had half a dozen small ones laid out, marking what kind of product he had available.
“Do you have anything larger?”
