Badger rarely took off his bowler hat anymore. His hair loss had been increasing, despite the expensive lotions he bought and got Dermott to rub into his scalp. Even in bed with one of the whores from Macey’s he kept his hat on. Well, they weren't ladies . And he was paying for them to service him , not the other way around. ‘N’ as what he was paying was good coin, they could do all the bleedin’ work.

Besides, he loved that hat. It looked good, perched on his head. It showed how he felt, depending on the angle. Made him look like a gentleman.

So standing in the local Fed station, his derby in his hand, was something of a special occasion. Although the reason was not. Unfortunately.

“Again, Badger.”

“Yeah.” The hat started to spin.

Lieutenant Kelly just stared. “You’ve got to put a stop to this.”

“You think I ain't tried?”

“Try harder.”

Badger glared at him, then dropped dispiritedly into the chair opposite. “Come off it, ‘Arry. You know I ‘ave. You think I wanna come ‘ere like this? It don’t do me reputation no good.”

“And I can’t keep covering up for you.”

“So it ain’t been put in the system?” Badger asked hopefully.

“Not yet.”

“’Arry, you’re a mate.”

“Which isn’t going to last at this rate. You need to get her some help.”

“She don’t think it’s a problem.”

Harry Kelly shook his head. “Badger. It is.”

The little man got to his feet, derby in hand. “Can I … collect ‘er?”

Kelly nodded and pressed a button on his desk, and almost immediately a young, upright Alliance officer, looking barely old enough to shave, stepped smartly into the room and ripped off a textbook salute.

“Sir.”

Kelly sighed. “Ling, I told you. Don’t salute in the office.”

The young man deflated a little. “Oh. Yes. Sorry, sir.”

“Take Mr Badger here down to the cells.”

“Sir?” He looked almost eager to lock the little man up.

“No, Ling. Just let her out.”

Ling collapsed a little more. “Yes sir,” he said, turning and leading the way out.