Mary Rosenblum (26 page)

“Sorry.” He looked startled, then concerned. “What else am I missing? Do you need anything else? I’m not thinking very well right now.”

“Food will do.” The vendor offered an assortment of vegetables and fresh tofu, which she was stir-frying quickly in a small pan and serving in rounds of thin bread, topped with spicy sauce. When the woman handed it to her, Ahni could barely restrain herself from wolfing it.

As she ate, she began paying attention to the people around them. She had become accustomed to the level of hostility in the platform corridors, and here, on the main promenade, where most of the people were downsiders and the rest were the vendors and service staff who catered to them, that hostility wasn’t extreme. Hadn’t been.

It was now. She blinked, scanning the wide promenade, realizing that it had risen to an intensity like that of the upper levels. Dane’s hand closed on her arm and she swallowed the last bite of vegetables and tofu, following him as he wove through the crowd deftly avoiding contact with the tourists.

Worry-anxiety-spread down the corridor like ripples in a pond. Someone had dropped a stone into this one, all right. Ahni thought of the restaurant an hurried to catch up to Dane.

The tension and anger grew, and Dane’s face was grim. Up ahead a knot of bodies swirled in the corridor and tourists an vendors were hustling away in both directions, their anxiety a bright metallic overlay to the dusky eddies of anger and aggresssion filling the corridor. Dane slid through the packed bodies effortlessly. She followed much more cautiously, afraid of provoking someone, making the situation worse. Natives, she thought, as she searched for space, squeezed through. Most of these people were natives, young, second generation, with the skinny, supple bodies of the scrum players. The bodies around her parted unexpectedly and Ahni found herself on the inner edge of the crowd.

She took in the situation in an instant. Three downside tourists and a handful of natives had squared off, trading insults. The tourists, three gym-muscled men in expensive singlesuits, had clearly been doing something recreational, either alcohol, Ahni thought, or chemicals. Testosterone-agression edged with flight/fight tension clogged the air. Dane was speaking to the native onlookers, a quick word here and there, a chin-jerk, radiating authority. And the natives were listening. One by one they stepped back, some of them reluctantly, blending into the crowd. The spectators were also thinning Ahni noticed, slipping away, leaving the braver tourists behind. But these people were beginning to simmer now, too.

One of the intoxicated tourists, a small, compact man with the muscles of a dancer, farted. Loudly.

A growl swept the crowd and the ring around the men tightened. One of the natives facing off with them said something sharp. The offender laughed. “You monkeys are all pussies,” he said, loudlyc enough for every spectator to hear. “You’d never make it in the real world.” And with one fluid and totally unexpectedmove, he punched one of the natives in the gut.

It caught Ahni totally by surprise, not even the faintest whisper of intent had leaked out. The native doubled over with a choked cry, dropped to his knees, and vomited. The stench drifted across the crowd, and the wave of shock and surprise that gripped the onlookers erupted.

Bodies surged forward, sweeping Ahni with them. Someone clawed at her shoulder, twisting back and down as if to pull her off her feet. She twisted, ducked with the pressure, stabbed with stiffened fingers, and heard a grunt as she connected, caught a flash of an euro face, eyes round with shock.

“No!” Dane’s yell filled the corridor, and the whip-crack of auuthority halted the crowd briefly. Ahni whirled just in time to see him grab the offending tourist.

Drunk or stoned as he might be, the downsider clearly knew how to fight, and Dane’s slight, upsider muscles weren’t going to be much of a match. Ahni started forward, shoving intervening bodies aside, but there was no need. As the man swung, Dane ducked it in a fluid motion that seemed more dance than combat, sidestepped and grabbed the man’s arm and the top of his singlesuit, adding to the momentum of his swing so that the tourist staggered forward, too fast in the less than normal gravity to catch himself.

Dane gave him a little extra help so that he slammed chest first onto the corridor flooring, knocking the wind out of himself.

His buddies surged forward, but from all sides, nearly a dozen natives leaped on them, pinning arms, restraining the men as they swore and threatened, spittle spraying as they raged. The two-toned chime of Security sounded and Ahni realized that the crowd had nearly evaporated, that the natives were leaving fast, some of them even breaking into a run. But Security cars, a bit larger and more powerful than the shuttles she had seen in the corridors, converge from all directions, cutting off escape. Panic flared and the crow swayed and surged.

Dane pushed forward, no longer bothering to be deft, shoving people out of his way as he headed for the Security-clad people spreading out with stun-sticks across the corridor. The woman clearly in charge spun to face him as he approached, her stick up and ready, then halted as he spoke rapidly, shaking her head, their argument rising. Finally she turned to the car she’d climbed off of, spoke over some kind of link.

“Hold!” Dane’s voice rose over the babble of voices, ringing with authority. “I got a promise from Security. Only the people who did the fighting are in trouble. The rest of you can leave in a minute or two.”

The small group of natives, men and women in equal numbers, Ahni noted, hustled their snarling captives through the crowd, their faces grim. The Security chief turned away from the car, her expresssion just as grim and clearly dissatisfied with whatever instructions she had received. She raised her wrist to her lips, her words sudddenly loud above the crowd murmur, clearly amplified.

Remain where you are until an officer takes your bio-ID. Then you can leave. We will not charge anyone who was not actively involved with the disturbance. Remain where you are. Those of you involved in the brawl, we got a positive vid-ID on everyone of you, so you remain here.

That raised a growl of protest. “Hey, they started it!” A small, squat Latino-faced native stepped forward. “They started the whole damn thing. Weren’t you watching?”

Cries of agreement rose from the mob and it closed ranks once more. But a slight, Asian-mix native with an intricate network of braids decorating his scalp, touched Latino-face on the shoulder, shrugging and speaking rapidly to the men and women around him. Ahni had seen Dane talking to him before the fight.

In fact … she reviewed her memory of that moment … she had noticed him talking to a couple of the others in the group, too. The sudden tightening of the crowd relaxed. People moved apart, the razor edge of violence blunted now, replaced by worry, fear, concern in a rainbow of shades. Ahni scanned the faces. Yeah, the two others she had noticed in conversation with Dane were talking to clustered naatives, and clearly urging calm. Dane had faded into the crowd and she noticed him get one or two people past Security although reinforcements were arriving and in another minute, no one would be able to slip away down the corridor. He veered toward her. “Do you have a guest pass for your room?” he asked urgently.

Without a word she slipped it from her pocket, thumbprinted it to activate it, and handed it over. Dane vanished.

The cordon was complete now. The tourists were being loaded into a cart, two of them threatening legal action, but sobered and subdued now. The third man, the one who had started the brawl with his punch, stood patiently, never once saying a word. Curious, Ahni edged closer. He wasn’t afraid or upset at all.

Or drunk. Dane appeared just then at her side.

“Ready to go?” He nodded toward a forming stream of bodies at one point in the cordon, where Security was reading and recordding ID.

“He’s a pro.” She twitched her chin in the direction of the third tourist. “Hired to do this.”

“I caught that.” Dane nodded. “I know Carrie–the woman in charge. She’s going to see what she can trip him into.”

”You and Laif run this platform, quite well, you know,” she murmured.

He smiled.

They had turned onto the main cross corridor where her hotel was located. The doorman was a woman today, with the look of a native, and she lifted her chin to Ahni as she approached. ”You have a visitor.”

Her skeptical expression said a lot.

“It’s all right.” Ahni nodded. “I gave him the pass.”

“Okay.” She disapproved.

“Question,” Ahni said. “Clearly bumping is rude or even a challlenge up here?”

Dane nodded.

”When that tourist passed gas … that is taboo, too?”

“Oh yes.” Dane shook his head, sighed. “We can’t get the tourist PR people to include that in their intro vids for visitors, but I wish they would. It’s not just rude, it’s sort of like spitting on everyone around you.

Made a nice trigger didn’t it?” He gave her a crooked smile. “He must have biological control like yours.”

“Maybe.” Ahni thought back. “Pause would explain his timing and his reflexes.”

“Does it bother you to have machines in your head?” He was looking at her curiously.

“Does it bother you that you couldn’t go down to Earth today and walk around comfortably?”

“That’s just muscle.” They had stopped beneath one of the flowering trees in the courtyard. “I can fix that by spending more time in the gym. If I want to. It doesn’t change who I am.”

“Nanoware doesn’t either.” She smiled. “It’s not like some sort of AI mind. It doesn’t affect who I am or how I think. It’s just having a really fast computer is all. Don’t people use it up here?”

“Not much. Tourists bring it up. How do you know that it doesn’t affect how you think?”

She shrugged. “‘Well, I guess I don’t really know if it affects me. since it was installed before I was born.” She smiled again. “I’m just me. The nanos are just data access hardware, switches, instant connnection to the net no matter if I have a link or not. It’s not like I hear voices in my head.”

Dane shook his head. “If you say so.”

“What’s going to happen to the people in the brawl?” she asked. “I saw you talking to the natives who were part of it.” She raised an eyebrow. “Did you get them off?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “They got set up. I had Laif tell Carrie to bring the tourists in by a different route, and as soon as they were out of sight, let the natives go. That’ll cool off the Con. There’s’ convenient stretch of corridor with a faulty cam in it, so there won’t be any permanent vid record.”

As they approached the room door the room voice murmured
You have a visitor waiting. He had a
pass.

“Thank you,” Ahni said, and the door slid open.

The man, scruffy in a grubby overall that had once carried an insignia on the front zip pocket and showed the scar where it had been effaced, sprawled in a recliner, a glass of beer in his hand from the refreshment wall. His face had a leathery, weathered look, although how you could get “weathered” up here, Ahni had no idea. As he grinned and lifted the beer in a toast, she noticed that his teeth were all synthetic implants and that he only had a thumb and forefinger on the hand that held the beer. The deformities repelled her. Why, when it was so easy and cheap to get reconstructive surrgery using cloned tissue?

“Nice company you keep, Dane.” He grinned up at them. “Thanks for the nice soft place to hide. I hate having to come down here looking for you. Heard some rumors that say maybe mining looks good again.”

Ahni eyed the man, wondering what his age was in years. His bones were about as diminished as Koi’s and the heave of his chest suggested that too much time in fullG would kill him for sure.

“Kyros, Ahni. She’s okay, Kyros.” Dane amiled. “Ahni, meet Kyros. He’s a miner … asteroid miner …

so he doesn’t have any manners to speak of, but he’s harmless.”

Lot of affection there. Longtime friends, Ahni guessed.

“What were you doing down here?” Dane dropped wearily onto the end of the bed. “Not even I can save your butt if Laif gets hold of you.” He sighed. ”You’re lucky Ahni was there with her pass.”

“Dane, you asked me to keep an eye out.” Kyros sat forward. “I seen something. Somebody’s tooling around out there where they don’t belong.”

“Not just some new competition?” Dane’s eyes narrowed.

“Nah.” Kyros shook his head. “It’s Swat-Prala’s old ship … that bucket of bolts that’ll get any fool killed who trusts it too long. And whoever is using it is a crappy pilot. Damn lucky one of the rock jocks hasn’t holed him, just to get him out of the way beefore he hits someone. Or one of Darkside’s catchers.

Jazmin’s just about hot enough to do it. He nearly clipped her, bringing in a load of ice.”

”You ID the pilot?” Dane asked softly.

“Nope. I don’t run around with a chip reader. Somebody told Jazmin he’s a wildcard. I think that’s why she didn’t scuttle him, but why would a wildcard buy a crap heap like that ship of Swat-Prala’s? They’re all filthy rich.”

Ahni met Dane’s eyes. “What’s he’ doing out there?” she asked the miner.

“Nothin’.” Kyros shrugged. “That’s what’s funny. He’s just kind of scootin’ around. Driver’s ed?”

“You hear any other rumors about him?” Dane asked.

Kyros shook his head. “Nobody really knows anythin’ much about him. Or cares. Rocky’s selling him ice for the ship and she gave the guy a few pointers. Wants to keep him alive to keep buying, I guess.

Heard another bit that might or might not have someethin’ to do with this.” His eyes, dark and sly as a dragon’s moved between them. “But I’m doin’ all the givin’ here, Dane. I’ll tell you what else I hear when you tell me what’s going on. You know me.” He chuckled. “Just gotta know everything.”

“It’s blowing up, Kyros,” Dane said slowly. “CSF is on the way. I need the guy who’s in Swat-Prala’s ship. He’s the only bone Laif can throw this dog.” He smiled mirthlessly. “And if he doesn’t throw it something, it’s going to eat us both.”

Kyros leaned forward, his manner suddenly, deadly serious. “Dane, you don’t need to end up the bone.