Chapter 6

On Lucie's fourth day, a very tall woman with impressive musculature and elongated neck tattoos that shimmered whenever starlight touched them had come in for breakfast. She sat at one of Lucie's tables, lingering to finish an entire pot of coffee.

The woman had been pleasant, which made her very nearly forgettable in the rush to serve everyone quickly. Her height and her neck tattoos made her memorable. And her very low voice, which was nearly masculine.

She came for breakfast every day after that, too.

The sixth day was a public holiday on Charlton City. Freedom day, which marked when the last of the refugees from the Periglus-claimed systems had been rescued and every last jump gate had been blown, removing for centuries any chance of the Periglus claiming another human-settled system.

As a result of the public holiday, the restaurant was jammed to overflowing, with people waiting in a line outside the door for the next available table. The rush wouldn't drop off shortly after standard work hours began, either, Edme had warned. "They'll wander in for a late breakfast, or brunch, or lunch or a snack. This'll go on all day, hun!"

Lucie nodded and kept moving. There was no point resenting how busy it was. That wouldn't change anything. She concentrated, to get every order correct. Having to deal with incorrect orders and customer complaints would slow everything down.

The tall woman asked for her usual. The largest breakfast platter and a carafe of house blend.

Lucie nodded. "Coming right up!" And she kept moving.

She delivered the woman's plate and coffee along with the next table's order, and hurried to collect the next meals.

Lucie had just reached the next tables with their platters when the tall woman let out a yell that made everyone jump.

Lucie turned around, her heart strumming.

The woman held up the carafe of coffee and pointed at the fat middle of the heated carafe. "What the hell is this?"

Lucie moved over to the table, and kept her voice down. "That's our house blend. Freshly brewed, too—as we're so busy."

"I said haricot blend!" the woman shouted. "This swill is fit for nothing but cleaning drains!" She had a low voice, but she was projecting with amazing effectiveness. Lucie thought that the people in the far back kitchen corner had probably heard her.

She glanced around. Cancel that. Everyone had heard. The entire restaurant was watching them.

Lucie made herself smile at the woman. "You've come in for breakfast six days prior to today—" Screw being imprecise. Now was the time to be exact. "Every morning you have ordered house blend, but?—"

She had been about to say that if she had made a mistake this morning, she could correct it right now, no problems, just give me the carafe….

The woman's face turned red. "You're calling me a liar?"

Lucie suspected that the people lined up outside the restaurant had heard that. She stared at the woman, at a loss for what to say. The woman had ordered house blend. Virtually no one ordered haricot blend. It was their least popular blend and Lucie would have been surprised by the order and would have remembered it.

But for some reason the woman wanted to…what did she want?

Lucie held up her hands, signaling peace. "Would you like another carafe? I can get a haricot blend brewing. It will only take a few –"

The woman roared and swung the carafe across the table, clearing it of everything in one massive sweep. The barely touched breakfast platter, the plate with fresh toast, the bowl with jams, the little pitcher with sticky syrup, the milk, the sugar, a butter knife, the eating knife, the fork, dirty teaspoons, salt and pepper…all went flying, most of it directly at Lucie.

Lucie shrieked and threw up her arms, staggering back out of the way of the heaviest of the missiles. Her back rammed up against the wall and she dropped to the floor, curling in on herself.

The woman leapt onto her seat, and spread her arms. "What sort of shit hole is this?" she demanded. "You fuck up the order, then tell me I'm lying? How much else are you covering up?" She leaned down and picked up a piece of bacon from the plate of the customer on the table next to her. The customer had vacated the table and was over in the corner, his napkin tucked into his shirt, his eyes wide.

"This…what is this? Is it even meat?" The woman sniffed it and made a gagging sound. She tossed the bacon onto another table, making the customers at that table cringe and moan and lurch to their feet and hurry out of reach.

"It's all shit. All of it!" the woman cried. She stepped onto her empty table, then with one long-legged stride, over to the next, which scattered those customers. She began to kick and shove everything on the table onto the floor.

Lucie raised her arm enough to look around the room. Who would stop this…this insane woman?

Olivette was peering through the service slot, her hand on her mouth. Her eyes glittered. Was she crying?

Everyone else hung back, terror or amazement on their faces. Even some amusement.

At the far corner of the wall, where it turned to create the pocket where Elijah Santiago preferred to sit, the man himself jumped up onto the half-wall that divided this section of the room, allowing tables to be crowded right up next to each other on each side of the wall. He walked along the narrow flat top of the wall, strolling like he would through the main downtown plaza.

Lucie couldn't figure out what he was doing. Her thoughts, usually clear and logical, were scattered, chattering fragments that she couldn't string together to make sense.

All she could do was watch and shiver.

The tall woman screamed insults and stomped on the food on the table, kicking bits of egg and pancakes onto the floor, or at the customers who were too close. They shrank away with cries of horror and fear, as if she had been firing a rattler at them.

The more sensible customers were streaming out the doors, directly behind the wall that Lucie was curled up against. She couldn't move, even though she desperately wanted to be one of the sensible ones leaving the restaurant.

Elijah Santiago moved closer to the woman, who was jumping now from table to table, landing heavily with both boots. The tables creaked each time she jumped, but she seemed to be more delighted by the small cascades of food and china she sent flying out across the carpet each time she landed.

And with every breath, she screamed insults about the Sky Dome. About its food, the coffee, the lack of service, the lies management told, how no one could trust what they ate here, and more.

Lucie moaned. She couldn't seem to control the shivering that wracked her. She couldn't move at all.

"Hey!" Santiago yelled.

The woman turned. "Someone who believes me! A convert!"

"Not on your nelly," Santiago replied. He paused along the wall, about four meters from where she bounced upon a creaking table.

By the wild look in the woman's eyes, her adrenaline was driving her, making her ready for anything. She was in fight mode.

"Are you going to get down off the table and shut up, or do I have to make you?" Santiago said.

She threw her head back and bellowed laughter.

Santiago pushed off the wall and flew through the air, his hands out. He slammed into the woman's mid-section, driving her backwards and down toward the floor.

They both hit heavily. Lucie watched the woman's head slam into the carpet. Santiago landed on top of her, not lightly. Lucie heard the woman's breath punch out in a wheezing "hoof!" sound.

Her head had to be spinning, and she was winded, but still the woman's mouth worked, whispering more insults, more claims about the Sky Dome and its lack of quality.

But she was contained, and everyone whirled around the two of them. They bent to help Santiago up and to keep the woman on her back.

"No, I'm fine. Let me through, please. Excuse me…no, I'm good." Santiago pushed his way through the crowd that had converged around them now the danger had passed.

Lucie watched it all, her mind still chittering gibberish.

Santiago moved toward her. Crouched down in front of her.

Lucie threw up her arm and cringed backward, a cry stuck in her throat.

"No, no, I'm not the danger. Shh…" Santiago told her.

Edme rushed up. "Is Lucie alright?"

"That is her name? Lucie?"

"Yeah. She's okay?"

"Physically, yes. But she's a new Varkan." Santiago spoke slowly and softly, his voice almost crooning. He held up his hand so Lucie could see it, then touched her arm. Curled his fingers around it. "This is the first time you've been close to danger, isn't it? Nothing prepares the Varkan for violence. All the intellectual study in the world can't explain what fear does to the human body." He gripped Lucie's arm. "Standing up and walking will wear off the effects, Lucie. Come on, I'll help you stand. Up. Come on."

Lucie looked up into his eyes. They were warm. Understanding.

She still couldn't talk. Her throat seemed to be held in the grip of an invisible hand that squeezed each time she tried. But she could stand. Of course she could.

Yet getting to her feet took every skerrick of strength and balance she had. All the remedial and rehabilitation exercises she'd had to complete in order to be able to walk, to sit, to stand, to do all the complicated-yet-simple movements humans took for granted, plus all of the quiet directions of specialists who had taught her each movement, came back to her now.

She got to her feet, although Santiago did most of the lifting. She was still shuddering. But finally, thoughts were coming back to her. "Security…" It was an effort, but she got the word out.

"I called them," Edme said. "They'll be here in a moment."

As she spoke, a dozen dark-uniformed people boiled through the glass doors into the restaurant. They spread out across the room.

Santiago lifted a hand. "Roderick," he said, barely lifting his voice.

One of them nodded and came over. "Santiago."

"The woman there went crazy. You've got dozens of witnesses."

"Crazy, huh?" Roderick asked. He was a hefty man, with a solid chin that he rubbed thoughtfully, even though he was smiling.

"Throwing anything within reach around the room," Edme said.

"Throwing things at people?" Roderick asked sharply, all his amusement evaporating instantly.

"No," Santiago said firmly.

Roderick relaxed, and looked around. "Where's Olivette?"

"Here, Roddy," Olivette said, stepping around the four security officers who were hauling the tall woman to her feet.

"Damn, Olivette," Roderick said.

Olivette sighed. "That's a word for it." The dark marks under her eyes seemed even darker and larger than usual. "Our biggest day of the year…"

"If you come with me right now, we'll wrap things up as fast as possible," Roderick said.

Olivette shook her head. "No. I won't be accusing her of anything, Roddy."

Everyone stared at Olivette.

"She's shut down your restaurant, Olivette," Santiago said.

"And if I have to traipse down to the plaza and fill in a thousand forms, I'll be shut down for the rest of the day. No, thank you. A couple of hours here, and we'll be open for afternoon tea and dinner."

Roderick scratched the back of his head, his helmet lifting at the movement.

"I think she's on something," Olivette added.

"She was acting crazy," Edme said.

"Someone should sober her up. She'll be sorry about this, after that," Olivette said.

"Well, if you're sure, Olivette," Roderick said.

"I am."

"I'm going to walk Lucie home," Santiago said. "A walk, a meal and sleep, and she can come back and help you tonight."

Olivette looked so grateful about that, that Lucie nodded. She still couldn't think too far ahead. Tonight seemed to be a few years away.