Lambs to the Slaughter

Ju Pei hadn’t seen the man in the corner booth of the restaurant before. It wasn’t too uncommon to see strangers in this dive but the train from Paradiso wasn’t due till tomorrow. Whoever this man was he wasn’t from this mud ball. She could tell he wasn’t your average border world ruffian even though he was trying hard to disguise himself like one. He seemed to be studying the menu, but he kept a watchful eye on the front door. He carried himself like a man who had been trained much more than your average thug. She wondered who he was waiting for.

“Pei, order up!” Ben called from the kitchen, and the aging waitress forgot about the stranger for a while as she carried booze and noodles to table three. The workers from the mines and sheep farms were starting to wander in. Times were hard, but the rough workers that frequented Big Ben’s Beer ‘n Bowls always seemed to have just enough coin for a drink or two. She idly wondered what they did without to keep the alcohol flowing.

The Alliance seemed to ignore the little world of Regina, but Pei had been hearing more rumblings of discontent from travelers than usual. Some people whispered in hushed tones about open rebellion. Pei didn’t really believe it; no one would dare go against the Alliance if they wanted to live long enough to grow gray hair.

She looked in the cracked mirror behind the bar, a woman much older than she should have been stared back at her. Living on this goram backwater world was sending her to an early grave. She brushed a gray lock of hair back in among the black. Maybe if she saved her meager tips she would be able to get some imported hair dye.

Pei approached the stranger and pulled out her little order pad from her once clean apron. “Are you ready to order sir?” She asked with forced enthusiasm.

The dark man looked up from the menu pulled a couple of large crisp bills from a pocket of his duster and set them on the table. “Blue Sun, Gold Label. This tip is yours if you don’t bother me a