Four
Drek wandered lazily a short way down the corridor, a curious Jas in tow, and stopped by an open door; "Lounge" was printed in large, bold green letters above it.
"Wouldn't come in 'ere unless one o' us is with yer," Drek said, softly, as Jas stared about himself, wide-eyed. "Yer smaller'n most sligs in barracks 'ere, an' if any o' these lads is a bit pissed, well… I don' think yer need me ter tell yer what'd happen if yer put someone's snout out o' joint."
The room was hazy with smoke, but quieter than the mess hall – much quieter – and smaller; dotted around the room were low tables and chairs, with deep cushions and subdued lighting. Three of the tables were occupied; a cluster of sligs were playing cards in a remarkably civilised way at one, and another three sligs were talking animatedly about something in hushed voices at another. At the last a pair of senior sligs were discussing something that probably used to have been of great importance, but judging by the number of empty brew bottles littered about it had faded into insignificance compared with whatever they were talking about now. A couple of scrawny little slogs were rooting about under tables, apparently looking for scraps.
Drek found a table in the corner. "Get yerself sat down, I'll go get us some drinks," he told him, loping over to the bar.
Jas sank into one of the deep chairs, and watched as Drek picked up an ashtray and banged it impatiently on the surface. "Hey, yer lazy sod…! Yer got customers waitin', out here!" The older slig barked.
A distinctly bony slig trotted out of the door behind the bar, a dirty old towel slung over one shoulder. "Oh, it's only yer," he said. "Ought ter 'ave known. What can I get yer?"
Jas missed the next bit – the older slig leaned closer and muttered something to the bartender, who honked a faint laugh, and both glanced back at him, then there was a bit more hushed conversation, cash exchanged hands and then Drek was back.
“Here y’are, kid,” Drek said, plonking himself down in a chair and bouncing a can at the young slig sitting next to him, by now a bundle of nerves, and laughed. "I must be goin' soft in my old age, helpin’ a kid like yer out…”
“I’m not complainin’,” Jas put in, “Though I was a bit confused on the ‘why’…”
“I don' want a smart kid like yer ter go an' get his 'ead mashed in by bein' stupid," Drek chuckled. " 'Cause sligs should stick together, right? Even if they are rippin' lumps outter each other."
Jas nodded, silently; the older slig was thoughtful and perceptive, in spite of his battle-scarred appearance, and Jas suspected he'd make a pretty good teacher. Maybe he did ought to stick around with Drek and co. for a while – at least, until they got fed up of him. Then it'd be time to do a swift disappearing act.
Drek smiled, wryly. "Wha’s this, smile sweetly an' think ter yerself I hope he shuts up before I get earache?"
"Oh, no – no!" Jas shook himself fully awake again. "No, I was… jus' thinkin'."
"Dangerous pastime, that, kid, an' I ain't jokin', neither. Management don' like their sligs ter think too much. We start getting'… awkward ideas… Then they has ter come down 'ere an' get a few o' us shot, jus' ter keep the others in line."
"Tha's not very fair."
"Who said anythin' about fair? Law of the wild, kid – kill or be killed. Simple as that."
There was a clatter of mechanical footsteps and Skan collapsed heavily into a low-slung chair, breathing hard. His face was torn to ribbons and bleeding sluggishly, but he was grinning. "Thought I'd find yer 'ere," he said, and added, triumphantly; "Beat 'im again."
"No yer didn't," Jark argued, settling in the couch opposite and flopping down on his chin on the low drinks table in front. Of the two, he did look worse off, no matter what he said; amongst the innumerable scratches and ugly welts, one eye was bleeding badly, and at least one finger looked dislocated. "Get us a drink, Drek… don' think I could move another muscle fer the rest o' today."
“Lazy bugger,” Drek scowled. “I ain’t waitin’ on yer hand an’ foot fer the rest o’ the day jus’ cause yer an’ Skan had another bust-up. But I note you two made up yer differences quick today."
Skan laughed. “That could be ‘cause I brained ‘im with a chair. Didn’ want ter fight no more after that.”
Jark just snorted, unable to think of a suitably scathing remark to respond with.
"Yer got a place ter sleep, kid?" Drek asked, deciding to change the subject – the other two would argue all afternoon, given half the chance. "'Cause if yer ain't, I got a spare bunk," and gave the others a look. "I kicked Skan out fer yellin' in his sleep."
“I do not!” Skan pouted.
“Bloody do,” Jark retorted.
Skan gave him an ugly look. “If I felt motivated enough ter get up, I’d be kickin’ yer clean through ter next week ‘bout now.”
Drek shook his head, realising he’d started them off again. “Ain’t you got ter go see the Big Feller this afternoon?” he asked, ignoring the other two, who were by now having an enthusiastic slanging match.
“Who?” Jas blinked.
Drek smiled, wryly. “Give yer one guess…”
Something in Jas’ brain made a sudden connection. “Aw, frack… I’m late…” he groaned, vaulting to his feet and off.
“Catch yer later, kid!” Drek called after him.
Jas just honked in reply, and vanished round the corner.
"Yer ain't so bad a fighter, short stuff," Hak rumbled, approvingly, as Jas sprinted in, panting apologies. "I saw yer thrashin' Frelik in the mess hall; not many've taken 'im on an' won. Where'd yer learn ter fight like that?"
"Uhm…" Jas leaned against the wall, panting, and racked his tired brain for a suitable explanation. "When I were little… bein' small, I got picked on a lot… had ter learn ter fight so they wouldn't do too much damage…"
Hak nodded his huge head, ponderously. "Where was yer brung up, Spider? I'd been meanin' ter ask. Yer not like most o' the others I've had the dubious pleasure o' teachin'."
"Uh… well… that is ter say… ack…" Jas swallowed; crunch time... "Promise not ter tell…?"
Hak nodded again.
"Uh… don' suppose yer remember them egg-raids a while back?"
"Ev'ryone knows about them, Shortie; s'why security were tightened."
"Yeah, well, uh… my egg was one o' the ones what got stolen. I've lived wi' muds fer most o' my life."
Hak cocked his head, stood and digested what the little slig had told him. "Wondered why yer had such an aversion ter smackin' the li'l buggers," He rumbled, apparently stuck for anything else to say, and tactfully changed the subject. "C'mon kid, tha's quite enough chitchat, we've got work ter be getting' on wi'," he deposited a larger weapon than before into the smaller slig's hands.
Jas gave an "oof" of effort, but soon regained his balance. "Heavy," he commented, wobbling.
“Yer’ll get used ter it,” Hak laughed. "An’… well, here's a piece o' advice," He watched as the youngster sprayed bullets round the target and missed it in most cases. "Don' tell old Drek where yer was dragged up. Hm, well, mebbe Drek ain't so bad, but certainly not Skan or Jerk. They ain't go no lost love fer muds, and the last 'mudlover' they caught got beat half ter death before they sent 'im packin' ter Skillya."
"Well, uh… what if they ask?" Jas wobbled, and tried to aim a bit better; this time he actually hit the target more than once.
"Cook up some story yer think sounds like it ought ter fit. But, fer Odd's sake, don', whatever yer do, say nothin'. If there's a sure way ter get yer ribs broke, getting' cheeky wi' 'em is one of 'em."
Jas grinned. "I've been told that before," he said, lowering the weapon.
"Well, now yer getting' told it again," Hak shoved him, good-humouredly, and then lit up a cigarette. "Want a smoke?" he asked, offering the packet.
Jas gave it a suspect look. "Uhm… No, thanks," he replied, with a mild sense of trepidation.
Hak chuckled and put the packet away. "Yer’ll get used ter bein' offered 'em. 'Specially if yer stick wi' Drek an' co – least, 'til yer start buyin' yer own. Smoke enough fer eight, the Three do."
Jas blinked, startled. "Tha's the Three?"
Hak grinned. "Yer didn't know? Thought yer were a bit of a brave one fer yer size," he looked again at the smaller slig, and added; "Or lack of it."
Jas pouted. "Wish people’d stop commentin’ on my size," he managed, faintly. “I can’t help bein’ small.”
Hak rumbled that infectiously dirty laugh; a deep, booming hur-hur-hur. Jas found himself grinning, as well.
“So, uh…” Jas shifted the weapon in his grip, resting the muzzle on the ground. "There an easy way to get on, here?"
Hak rumbled that deep, heavy laugh of his. "Smart kid, ain't yer? Well, I'll give yer the potted version o' what I tell all rest o' the new ‘uns what come 'ere fer basic trainin'; none ever listen, but what the hey. Keep yer 'ead when everyone else is flappin' round in a panic, an yer'll go far. Don' cheek yer elders, which is a sure way ter get yer 'ead mashed, an' keep on yer toes around upper management; they'll call yer up fer near on anythin', an' a bit o' bootlickin' never goes amiss. One golden rule – don' get 'em annoyed. They're temp'ramental sods, an' if they think yer takin' the piss by salutin' an' doin’ too much o' the old 'yes-sir' routine, they'll send yer down fer a kickin'. Likewise fer us seniors; I'm pretty easy goin', but Lenk – he's one o' the other two Big Bros employed 'ere – yer gotta watch out fer. Salute 'im ter say yer've understood 'is orders, but don', whatever yer do, argue about 'em wi' 'im.”
Jas nodded. "I'll remember 'is name," he said, solemnly.
Hak smiled, grimly. "Remember it an' fear it, kid."
"Oh. He's like that, is he…?" Jas swallowed, thickly.
Hak chuckled. "Yup. Compared wi' Lenk, I'm cuddly an' harmless."
Jas just stared at Hak's forbidding bulk, and swallowed, thickly.
“An' that,” Hak puffed a cloud. “Is about all there is ter know."
"Don't sound too hard."
"Don' yer believe it," Hak said, dryly, flicking his spent cigarette away and stomping it with one heavy foot. "It's law o' the jungle, here; ev'ry slig fer 'imself. Yer may think yer the next child prodigy, but if yer piss someone off in management, yer won't live too long ter regret it. We still ain't got the bloodstains out o' the carpet from the las' time some dumb idiot insulted one o' th'offices. Well, mebbe tha's an exaggeration, but still, there weren't much of 'im left by the time they'd finished wi' 'im."
"Naw…" Jas laughed, nervously. "Yer havin' me on…"
Hak just fixed him with an icy stare. "Listen, kid – I can show yer what a cracked rib or two feels like, as yer seem ter want someone to pretty badly. Cause I may be big an' stupid, but I ain't a liar."
Jas shrank down. "Um…"
Hak rolled his eyes. "Jus' remember what I told yer," he said, closing a massive hand round the weapon and lifting it effortlessly out of the younger slig’s hands. “Go on, kid, clear off. Yer goin’ ter fit in okay, I think. Go find out who yer superior is first thing tomorrow mornin’, an’ he’ll give yer instructions from now on…”
Drek honked a greeting as Jas clattered in; the younger slig waved back, idly, and sat down hard just inside the door.
“Busy day?” he asked, with a grin.
Jas just nodded, and keeled over.
Drek laughed, and leaned his chair back against the wall. "I'll let yer 'ave the lower bunk tonight, then. But," he raised a finger. "Fer the rest o' yer time in here, yer get the top one."
Jas nodded from his recumbent position on the floor. "Whatever."
"Want a smoke, kid?"
"No; but ta, anyways."
"Sure? Yer goin' ter get awful bored of me offering."
The younger slig propped himself up on his elbow. "Yer bein' very free wi' yer cigarettes… thought Jerk said yer didn't give 'em away like that?"
Drek snorted, and flicked his lighter. "Oh, don' yer worry 'bout that," he said, round the cigarette, lighting it. "Soon as yer start buyin' yer own, I'll be collectin' the debt off of yer."
Jas nodded, yawned, and collapsed on his bunk, and was snoring in seconds.
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