Page 140 of Stars in Umbra
The air was thick with the aroma of grilled meats and spilled lager.
It was the kind of place where the clientele either sported old war medals on their collars or openly carried guns and blades tucked in oversized pants and under generous bellies spilling over their belts.
When they walked in, heads turned.
Conversations tapered into murmurs as they got a head-to-toe assessment, then drummed up once more as eyes swung away, disinterested.
Mo huffed in satisfaction. ‘I think we passed the blend-in test.’
They ordered two frothing tankards of bitter draft and found a corner near the laser pool table.
Mo lined up the cue with exaggerated sloppiness, while Rina perched beside him, laughing into his collarbone and whispering between kisses, her eyes never leaving the door.
Just as the third round began, the quietude was split by the roar of approaching skimmers.
Mo straightened and murmured. ‘Incoming.’
All of the newcomers hopped off their fleet of loud, dirt-slicked flyers, boots thudding onto the cracked pavement with practiced swagger.
The Thrall insignia, twin blades coiled in a serpent’s mouth, flashed on shoulder plates and forearms as they strode into the Halo Horns like they owned it.
The pub door banged open, slamming against the wall, and the tavern’s lights seemed to dim.
A noisy pack of six men spilled in, debris trailing after them, kicked up from the dusty street outside.
The conversation died.
Locals stiffened on their stools, heads lowering, drinks clutched tighter.
A woman at the bar slid off her seat and disappeared into the back corridor.
Even the bartender hesitated, as if weighing whether to greet them or brace for impact.
The gang strutted in, bellowing their orders and pushing staff around.
Mo’s arm tightened around Rina’s waist.
She murmured near his ear, keeping her face straight. ‘Bullies. Why am I not surprised?’
One of the guards, lean, twitchy, with a manic gleam in his eyes, called out to another, ‘Oi, Sallo, you get the last batch of invites out for the party?’
Another one answered in a slurred snarl. ‘Yeah, yeah, weekend bash at the high house. Gonna be wall-to-wall caviar and courtesans. I got dibs on the pink-skinned twins from Mersa District.’
‘Gross,’ Rina muttered, her jaw ticking.
Mo’s neural comm clicked open with a thought.
Mirage, there’s an event at Thrall Estate. Is there any chance you can look into it?
Mirage’s utterance was dry, brisk, and efficient as usual.
Already on it. They’re bragging about a public-facing shin-dig that I’m cross-referencing against event vendor itineraries and guest lists. I’ll ping you if I find anything credible.
At the bar, the chaos escalated.
One of the guards slammed his glove down on the counter and whistled piercingly. ‘You deaf, girl? I said I wanted the house lager. With foam!’
The young waitress, just out of her teens, trembled as she set down a half-filled tankard.
