vilakins | Ficlet: Hired Gun

And this was for mistraltoes whose request was why Kerril threw in with Bayban (though it's really more how). 300 words.

Hired Gun

Bayban knocked his whisky back. Ah, yes, that hit the spot. "Another one," he said to the barman, "and give it wings."

"There you are, Babe," a familiar voice said behind him. "No one robs Grunters and gets away with it. You're dead meat."

Bayban reached for his gun, but there was a shot before he'd even half-turned. He froze, but there wasn't any pain. There hadn't even been an impact. He warily turned all the way; Grunthal was sprawled on the floor.

"Someone you know?" A blonde woman leaned against the wall on the other side of the room, a Federation-issue blaster still in her hand.

"Not any more. What's it to you?"

"Nothing. Just don't like seeing anyone shot in the back."

Bayban looked at her. She was wearing what looked suspiciously like a Space Fleet uniform with the insignia removed, and she looked as if she could do with a square meal. And a shower. "Deserter?"

"Mind your own business."

Bayban grinned. "'Cause I could do with a good gunhand. What's your name?"

"Kerril. And I know who you are." She came over, giving Grunthal's corpse a kick on the way. "Stupid, saying what he was going to do. He deserved to die."

"So tell me. Kerril. Why should I hire you?"

"Because I'm a damned good sniper."

"All right, you're on. So long as it's not the verbal sort. Here." He held out a hundred-credit note. "That's payment for that--" he jerked his head at Grunthal"--and a bath. You need one."

Kerril matched his sneer. "I know. It keeps the leches away and saves on ammo. Live with it."

Bayban's eyes flashed in anger, than he threw back his head and laughed. "I plan to--and keeping me doing just that is your job."