Danny Williams sat reading his morning news on a flimsy plast while eating those little donut things - masaldas? - and enjoying the morning sunlight.
Okay, Hawaii lacked most of the stellar qualities of the BosYorkJers Conglom, but it had its moments. Until, that is, a crazy man stumbled into the cafe at top speed, wild-eyed and bleeding profusely.
A cop's work is never done.
He jolted up from his seat and caught the man, steadying him. "Hey, hey, hey. I'm a cop. Easy there. What is it, what's wrong?"
"A cop?" the man gasped. "Thank god. Organleggers, it was organleggers."
Danny slapped his badge comm. "Civilian down..."
"Officer," the wounded man choked out.
"Officer down at my coordinates," Danny corrected. "Organlegging suspected. Repeat, organlegging suspected. Code Darien Six Niner."
The officer tried to sit up and failed. He sounded desperate, pained. "I think they're behind me," he said.
Danny nodded. "Send backup."
"We hear and respond. Hold on, Officer Williams," said the voice on the other end of the comm.
Danny turned to a nearby waitress, who looked pale from shock. "Don't just stand there! Grab some water, napkins, a cloth tablecloth - we have to keep him from dying before they get here! And clear the rest of the restaurant out. We're going to have visitors, 'cause I think they can follow a blood trail that clear, okay?"
She shot into the restaurant without a word.
"Hold on, okay?" he said to the injured man, as he tried to keep pressure on his wounds. "Just... hold on."
Danny got up, quickly dumped some chairs tables over around them in a makeshift fort and fumbled out his blaster. He was back to tending to the fallen officer when the waitress came back with a couple tablecloths and a pitcher of water. The inside of the restaurant had emptied out.
And that's when the organleggers came.
There were about ten of them and they were wearing pink shirts, popped collars, big pants that looked like they were falling off. Typical 'legger retro
gear. Oh, and giant, shiny freaking energy rifles. Wonderful.
"Come on out, we can see you in there!" one called. "It's not like the blood didn't make it obvious!"
A bigger, taller goon next to her could see over the tops of the tables. "Oh hey, boss, he's got a friend."
"Isn't that nice!" she said. "Well, mister, you've got something of ours and you can leave him right there. We don't give a damn about you."
"That's nice," said Danny. "But I'm a peace officer too, so his problem is kind of my problem."
"Have it your way," she said, and that's when the shooting started. One over his head, one, near miss as he crouched up to shoot back, one more as he shot goons three and six. And then there was a shot from behind him, inside their little table fort. Danny glanced back quickly. Through the gaps in the tables, he could see a gun, pointed right at him. And an organlegger, dead behind it. Shot in the head as he aimed. Danny's patient waved weakly with two fingers. In the other hand was what must have been his backup blaster.
"Oh, you're good," said Danny, before turning back to the gunfight. Getting off several shots before he ducked back down again, he thought he might have taken another down, but he wasn't sure.
"I have to say," Danny said, panting between gunshots "Between the one you got and the ones I got, that still leaves... way too many. A little help, a little backup would be appreciated."
Suddenly, blinding spotlights hit Danny in the face. Through the noise of the gunfight, he suddenly noticed the approaching vworp vworp vworp of a Peace Officer-issue airbike.
"Did somebody ask for a little help?" called a female voice. A woman leaned off the back of the bike, shockgun in hand, hair whipping in the wind. "Oceania Peace Officers, stand down."
The bike's driver, hidden behind huge sunglasses looked down at the erstwhile gunfight. "Hands in the air, people. You know the bike has crowd control nets, and its cannons are loaded for bear."
She leapt off the lowering bike, shockgun in one hand, medical aid box in the other and rushed over to kneel at the fallen officer's side as her partner covered the organleggers with his bike cannon. "Hey boss," she said, franticly working to staunch his wounds further, "You're not going to die on me, Steve. 5-0 wouldn't be the same without you."
"So tell me," Danny asked, as he sat off the back of the second ambulance and a med tech fussed with his minor wounds from the gunfight, "Is this a normal day for you guys?"
"Not quite," admitted the man who had driven the hoverbike. "But with all the refugees from the civil war in Australia... The organleggers have been able to expand in a big way. We've had better days, but we've had worse."
Danny whistled. "That's pretty bad, then. We've seen some of the trickledown in my unit, but we haven't hit any real nests of them yet. After today, can't say I mind."
The driver took off his sunglasses and held out his hand to shake. "Chin Ho Kelly, 5-0 unit. Thanks again for saving our boss and keeping them from getting away," he said, cracking a small smile, for the first time since Danny saw him.
Danny couldn't help but smile back. "My pleasure, Officer Kelly. Anything I can do, you let me know. And let me know if that hardheaded boss of yours lives, okay?"
Kelly shook his head. "Oh, I don't think you'll have to worry about that. You'll hear from him again."
And he did. Did he ever.