A Game of Battleships by Toby Frost Page A

of Interstella Artois, so I left the others outside and went in. But they didn't have any pasties, so they gave me this liquorice drink instead – which might have been alcoholic now I try to think of it – and when I managed to get out they were gone. But Rhianna went into a caff and now she’s been  arrested on drugs offences and my legs feel like they're going to fall off.’
    They weaved deeper into the space station: down narrow avenues, under spacesuits on a washing  line, past a two-cylinder Citroen moon buggy. Carveth pointed to an art deco sign above a door. Smith  strode straight in. Rhianna was sitting at a table near the door and over her stood a man in a blue  uniform.
    ‘What the devil’s this?’ Smith demanded, advancing on the man. ‘Unhand that woman and get  back to delivering the post.’
    ‘That is enough, monsieur,’ the man replied. ‘I am an officer of the gendarmerie. In your  language, a bobby, yes? This woman attempted to purchase illegal drugs from the proprietor of this  establishment.’
    ‘Oh,’ Smith replied. “Is this true, Rhianna?’
    She looked very upset. ‘I thought Holland was in France,’ she explained. ‘It’s in Europe, right?’
    In a second Smith realised the truth. As a citizen of New Francisco, Rhianna had assumed that all  European countries had an identical attitude towards herbal medication. It was awkward, he thought, but not beyond repair. A bit of diplomacy would straighten things out. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘she’s made a mistake.
    I know she’s done something silly, but she is foreign, you know.’
    ‘Then may I remind you,’ the policeman said, ‘that you are foreign too.’
    ‘What? I most certainly am not.’
    Carveth sighed and sat down at a table.
    ‘Maybe we can just, you know, talk it over?’ Rhianna said.
    The door burst open and Suruk stormed in. ‘What is this?’ he demanded. ‘I leave to buy  postcards and flick-knives and everything goes wrong.’ He picked up a menu, glared at it as if it contained a personal insult, and added, ‘I warn you and your reprobate chefs… stay away from my frogs!’
    A second gendarme appeared in the doorway. Balls , Smith thought. He needed to work fast: not  only was Jurgens’ ship due to leave soon, but he had a good idea what European justice entailed:  something to do with a quick kick in the Bastille followed by an uncomfortable run-in with Madame  Guillotine.
    It was time to use the Bearing, the ancient Shau Teng discipline. Smith summoned up his moral  fibre and stared the nearer of the gendarmes in the eye. ‘Now look here, my good fellow…’ he began,  taking a step forward. ‘This woman is under my protection. You will release her now, sir.’
    The gendarme grimaced. ‘You think you will use – the Bearing – on me?’ he gasped. With great  effort he raised his shoulders and the palms of his hands. Then he laughed. ‘Nice try, English! But I shrug off your demands.’ He opened his hands. ‘Eh? Huh? Bof .’
    ‘Damn!’ The blasted fellow wielded his lack of civility like a shield. To Smith’s right, Suruk quietly lowered the menu. Smith reached to his hip. This was going to be unpleasant but there was no other  option.
    Smith said, ‘Let’s finish this now.’ His right hand made one fast move into his coat, and suddenly  it was no longer empty. ‘It’s time to leave.’
    The gendarme looked down at the wallet in Smith’s hand. ‘You corrupt English! You think we  can be bought like that?’
    ‘Well,’ Smith said, ‘yes.’
    ‘How dare you? I am arresting you too, for attempting to bribe an officer of the law.’
    ‘But this is abroad, man. Surely you take bribes in France.’
    ‘Bah! What do you know of France? I bet you have never even heard of Charles de Gaulle.’
    ‘Of course I have. Little fellow with a big moustache, doesn’t like Caesar?’
    ‘That is Asterix the Gaul! That is it – in the name of Europe and the Four Hundred and Thirty-