Why was he out here? Maddox realized he couldn’t remember. What was wrong with his eyes? Everything was fuzzy or blotchy. He looked up. It seemed that stars twinkled in the heavens. It must be night.

Maddox closed his eyes, squeezing them tight. He tried to recall the causation of his predicament. He remembered that he had been nearing the end of a two-week leave. It had been quite some time since his crew had defeated the alien Destroyer. Little had gone to his liking since then, but that wasn’t the issue here.

He sensed motion and started toward it one foot stumbling ahead of the other.

“No,” a voice said, behind and to his immediate left.

Pain flared at Maddox’s left elbow. He realized strong fingers dug into his joint and pushed him forward. Someone caused him to stagger out here, apparently directing his path.

Maddox opened his eyes. The fuzziness had departed although the blotchiness remained.

The one gripping his elbow made him turn, propelling him through a door and down a lit corridor. They passed closed doors, ones that lacked handles or latches.

That was interesting if ominous.

Fortunately for Maddox, he possessed a slightly higher core body temperature than regular humans. He was half New Man and half Earthling. He burned off alcohol faster than others did. Because of that—

Alcohol!

Maddox remembered lifting a shot glass and throwing the contents down his throat. He’d held onto his cards as he did so, sitting at a table in a smoky den. He’d been pretending intoxication in order to lull the other players: smugglers, captains of cargo haulers. One could argue his pretense had been unfair deception so they would drop their guard. Perhaps that had been so, but despite being on leave, Maddox had been engaged in a semi-official mission.

For the past three weeks, he’d felt someone trailing him. The sensation had intensified the last four days. He had come to believe Woo Tower was the locus for the spying. Surely, one of the hauler captains at the table had been a link to the person or persons interested in him.

Maddox had lifted the shot glass…right. The waitress had slipped the drink beside his hand, replacing the half-filled whiskey. She had done so in a fervent manner while pretending otherwise. Maddox had taken the drink, knowing it was a reckless gamble. He had been frustrated by the months of inactivity. He remembered the itch of it in his fingertips. In a rash moment—maybe wanting to throw himself into danger—he decided to trust his innate ability to shake off most ill effects. Besides, he’d wanted to know who was trying to drug him by having them make a move afterward, which it appeared someone most certainly had.

It would also appear that the effects of the drink had been stronger than the captain had anticipated. One could argue he had…er, miscalculated.