A Justice Provider's Tale 08

Chapter 8

I kicked the Holdian, I had to admit with a dark sense of satisfaction and flung the small being right into the face of the approaching barkeep, ducked once again under a hefty swing of the bald-headed brawler, but could not completely evade the fist of the Triple Strong that scraped along the side of my jaw and made me see white flashes. I was sure a Bandrupo would have felt that uppercut, but this wasn’t my first bar fight and if I managed to get out of this one, most likely not my last. I returned the favor by kicking the Triple Strong in the family jewels and was rewarded with a resounding scream of pain.

While I successfully ducked under the third swing of the slayer swung by the now angry man of Herman’s world, I could not completely evade his elbow that made my ears ring. I had to take care of that mace swinging bastard. I stomped hard on his foot that made him forget about his mace or me, at least for a moment. I didn’t want to kill anyone, but I had to get the upper hand fast. They were simply too many.

But another roundhouse, with enough force to make the Triple Strong stumble a few steps back, ignoring the now advancing Quadiped. Gave me enough time to open a quick release pouch on my belt and drop a handful off Cling’ N’Bangs.

I think I dropped all twenty that I carried. These black marble-sized balls, would cling to any moving target, except the pouch wearer and explode with a concussive force of a strong fist blow, emitting a blinding flash and a cloud of sourced powdered Torch berries. Six or seven of them had found the Triple Strong. The things going off almost at the same time did take the strong fellow off his feet and the most irritating and burning pepper dust took him and several of the others effectively out of the equation.

A loud bang and something impacting into my stomach, knocked me off my feet slamming back against the door frame. The little Holdian, with a bleeding face and limp arm, had fired the Shrap gun. My Rhinoskin shirt had saved my life. The nasty metal shards had not penetrated the Ultronit mesh of my space armor, but the kinetic energy had swiped me off my feet and made me almost lose consciousness and all of my lunch I had earlier. The AutoDoc in my right leg pocket imminently reacted and injected pain killers and stimu drugs into my bloodstream.

Of course, this was not the hundred thousand credit AutoDoc, of the Union Armed forces that could not be sold to Civilians anyway. With nanite tissue repair and all that; just a commercially available one. What did I tell you about personal equipment? Right, you are. The best you can get is a wise decision.

Down on the floor, I saw a beautiful sight indeed, my TKU. Close enough for the auto draw function to work. The weapon jumped into my hand and roared, a fraction of a second later, burning a furrow of singed pelt across the Holdian’s head and right between the ears.

He helped and dropped the Shrap gun.

“Wise decision!”

I got up, not so fresh despite the AutoDoc and spat a loose tooth on the floor. Those patrons remaining on their feet had stopped moving.

Now I noticed that some of the accelerated shraps had missed me or had perhaps bounced off the Ultronit and pierced the Hermanite at several spots. There was a big black stain on his right pant leg and there was blood seeping between his fingers he held against his stomach.

I took the AutoDoc out of my pants and pressed it against his other leg.”Someone call for help and you Barkeep find the First Aid kit you supposed to have around here, quick!”

I put a turning kit fashioned from the man’s belt over the bleeding wound.

The offered First Aid box was faded and its manufacturing date made it almost fifty years old, but it was still sealed and the things inside looked as new as on the day they were packed.

The AutoDoc recommended applying pressure to the gut wound until help could arrive.

The Triple Strong said.”Help is on the way.”

And then he added.”The man you are looking for, he loaded his Viper Intergalactic onto the bed of a freighter. The RFS Brummer will leave at One hour thirty tonight.”

“Wasn’t it supposed to leave tomorrow at eight-hour?”

“Yes, but Robinson Freight Services is a business and s0meone paid the captain and the company a bonus if they left as soon as possible.”

I checked my PDD. It was already thirty minutes past seven-hour.

“Keep pressure on that,” I commanded and got up.