Refusing Excalibur by Zachary Jones

holo-adverts.
    He walked down the sidewalk, passing souvenir shops and cheap restaurants.
    When he passed by a brothel, a male prostitute stepped in front of him.
    “Looking for a good time, handsome?” The man had pale skin and blond hair. His blue glowing irises were the same color as the sign above the door. His clothing appeared to be mostly made of nets, showing off the man’s well-toned muscles.
    Victor pulled out his card, his thumb strategically placed over the value counter. “Not really but I am looking for information.”
    The prostitute glanced at the card. “Money is money. What’cha need?”
    “I’m looking for work and thought I’d hire on to one of the mercenary outfits. Would you happen to know where to look?” asked Victor.
    “Pay my fee, and I’ll be happy to remember.” The prostitute held up a tablet.
    Victor swiped his card over the prostitute’s tablet, giving the man his hundred-credit standard fee.
    The prostitute smiled at his tablet. “Try Natalia’s, a bar four blocks up. You can’t miss it. Has a blue holo of a naked woman shaking her tits above the door.”
    “I’ll check it out. Thanks,” Victor said.
    “Anytime. Come back when you’re feeling randy,” the prostitute said.
    “Good night, friend,” Victor said, leaving the prostitute to his business.
    Victor found Natalia’s a few blocks down, right where the underdressed man had said. The blue-tinted holo of a naked woman danced above the door to the beat of the music emanating from within.
    The sliding door opened as Victor approached, and a wave of unfamiliar smells and music crashed into him. With one look inside, he knew this place was far dirtier than even the seediest dive he had ever stepped into on Savannah. Which didn’t surprise him. Savannah was, or rather had been, a relatively straightlaced planet, even before the war with the Lysandrans had let the military junta take control.
    The crowd was also far more heterogeneous than those Victor had encountered in Savannan bars. The people in the bar ranged wildly in the color of their skins and hair. And that was just the basic humans. He spotted a number of squat heavy-worlders and lithe nightpeople, even what looked to be a starchild standing at the back of the bar. That was difficult for Victor to believe. Starchildren weren’t supposed to visit planets. For the most part, they barely interacted with the rest of humanity.
    Victor supposed there were exceptions to everything. He walked to the bar and sat on an empty stool. Before he could get the bartender’s attention, a strong hand grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him into the air just to drop him.
    Victor tucked in his chin and broke his fall, keeping the back of his head from cracking against the hard floor.
    “That’s my seat,” said a tall man covered in bulging muscles, advertising his steroid abuse.
    Victor got up, adopting the athletic, balanced posture he used in sword sparring. “I didn’t see your name on it.”
    The big man stepped closer. “Don’t need my name on it. People just know. People who don’t know? I learn ’em.” He drew back a meaty fist and threw a haymaker.
    Victor stepped aside and used the momentum of the big man’s punch to throw him over his hips. The man landed with a thud against the bare concrete floor of the bar.
    Victor tried to plant a knee on the man’s chest to keep him down, but the giant reached up, grabbed Victor by the lapels of his jacket, and threw him clear.
    By the time Victor got back up, the big man was on his feet. “I’m gonna make you pay for that.” He stomped forward.
    Victor picked up an empty stool and threw it at the big man’s feet, sending him off balance. As the man tried to get his feet clear, Victor ran up, grabbed him by the back of the head, and drove a knee into his face. A wet crunch followed.
    “ Rraaagh !” The big man, his nose crooked and bloodied, threw a right hook. Victor blocked it, but the force of the blow was