Part Twleve, Chapter Eleven - The Inevitable Bar Brawl

Gris continues to gloat about how poor and shabby and friendless Heller is, sitting there in that dingy Turkish bar.  Heller gets out some pieces of paper and tries to press one of the poppy flowers by banging on it, and of course the results are a mess, which Gris laughs at.  See, Heller isn't an obnoxiously perfect hero, he can't even press flowers right!

A group of twenty Turks suddenly enters the bar - "dressed in their sloppy jackets, tieless white shirts, unpressed pants" - and take seats as if they're waiting for something.  Then the door is kicked open by two burly men, who Gris recognizes as Musef and Torgut, local wrestling heroes.  Turks enjoy wrestling, you see.  Even more people come in to watch the imminent beatdown.

Musef tries Turkish before introducing himself in English, and Heller's response is "A yellow-man!"  And though there's plenty of ways to be offended by such a stupid statement, Musef goes with "yellow as a synonym for cowardice" rather than "this guy is racist and colorblind."

So, a barfight.  Musef challenges Heller, Heller the decorated combat engineer says he never fights, Musef tosses the glass of cholera and flowers in Heller's face, Heller amends his statement with "without a wager."  Five hundred lira is the stake, aaaaaand wrassle.

There's not much to it, really - Heller and Musef get grips on each other's shoulders and just kinda stand there in a stalemate, muscles a-quiver.  Then Torgut comes up from behind with a length of pipe, but Heller braces himself on Musef and kicks Torgut clear across the room, then squeezes Musef so that he screams and collapses.  Fight over.  You can scoot back from the edge of your seat now.

Heller asks for his money, but the crowd accuses him of cheating and whatnot, while the barkeep tries to charge him for property damage.  When things look like they'll get ugly, Heller suddenly scoops up Musef and throws him against the bar with enough force to knock it down onto the bartender.

As the noise died down, Heller said "Honor seems to be something you have never heard of."  He shook his head sadly.  "And I did want to try some of your beer."

Heller walked out.

Way to remind me to wonder what the Voltarian equivalent of alcohol is, or if they've even come up with the stuff since they don't have "drugs" on that planet.  Despite his ambush failing spectacularly, Gris sings himself to sleep as he imagines Heller limping home alone and outcast.  And with that we're done with the first Part of Black Genesis.


Back to Part Twelve, Chapter Ten

Forward to Part Thirteen, Chapter One