Warp World (22 page)

She followed the path of the fleeing woman, and shook her head as she disappeared into an alley. “Dead end.”

The last thing she wanted this night was to deal with the three goons that entered the alley behind their prey but, if she was right, if the woman they were chasing was Eraranat’s caj, well, this situation might have some potential.

As she rounded the corner, she saw the caj backed against the wall, waving a shutter pole at her attackers. The gills, yep, it was her alright. Ama, the Theorist called her. Sauntering forward, Shan slid her hand to her waist and unlatched the clasp on her pistol.

What was with this caj? First the temple, now this. Did she have a thing for idiotic last stands or something?

“Grenerk,” Shan called to get the goon’s attention. “What in the name of the Storm do you think you’re doing?”

Grenerk whirled, Ven and Crat also looked back at Shan.

“This Outer attacked us,” Grenerk said. “Says it doesn’t have an owner, so we’re taking it. Must’ve managed to slip out before getting grafted. Ours now, so back off.”

“Yeah,” Shan cocked her head and squinted, “and you just believe whatever an Outer tells you? Figures. You have any idea who this caj really belongs to, veg-paste-for-brains?”

“It’s not grafted, it’s fair game,” Grenerk said. “So, no, I don’t care. Don’t you have a Stormwatch to fly?”

Crat and Ven snickered at what, to them, must have seemed the height of wit.

Shan forced a smile. “Good one. Here’s another funny one for you. You ever hear the one about the fuel-humpers who stole Theorist Eraranat’s ungrafted caj? Hilarious. Think they went straight to the ponds for that one, soon as the Guild got wind. Real knee slapper.”

Crat goggled. “Eraranat? The one that you were with at—”

“You just want it for yourself,” Grenerk said.

Shan rolled her eyes. “Don’t believe me? Here …” She reached into the pocket of her flight jacket and pulled out her comm. “I got his contact; you can ask him yourself.” She scrolled through the screen until Eraranat’s icon appeared, then held the comm out toward Grenerk.

Behind the men, Ama’s eyes widened.

“Is there a reward for finding it?” Grenerk asked.

“Karg that, it hit me!” Crat said.

“He can pay for that too,” Grenerk said.

“Sure, why not?” Shan shrugged. She caught Ama’s eye; the caj was staring at the comm as if it were a live grenade. Did Eraranat even know she was here? “Tell him to throw in a bit extra for my troubles.”

“Guess we can get you some, too,” Grenerk said, and smashed a thick finger against the icon to connect. “Yeah, Theorist Eraranat? Raider Grenerk Yiel, associate of Pilot Welkin’s. Found your caj out here in the RQ, we’re holding it for you. You can connect to me on the redelt grid, pan seven, freq four. We’ll keep the caj safe while we wait for your word.” He closed the connection and tossed the comm back to Shan. “Went straight to message.”

Crat turned back toward the caj. “Digi-prop or not, it still hit me. It’s my right to payback.”

He lunged, Ama side-stepped and brought the pole down across his forearm with a meaty smack. Crat howled, shook out his arm, then latched onto the pole and yanked it away. “I’m gonna tear your—”

“You touch that caj and they’ll be pulling spines out of your head for a month,” Shan said as she raised her pistol. “Now, all of you back away, nice and slow.”

“Hey! Crat’ll back off,” Grenerk said, with a wince. “No jumping on our reward here, Welkin.”

“You’ll get what’s coming, Grenerk, count on it. But if you think I’m leaving Eraranat’s caj in your hands, you’re as stupid as you are ugly.” She waved the pistol to direct the men away. “Now move it! You know my rep, you know I won’t think twice about de-pop’ing every last one of you.”

“I’m gonna lodge on you, Welkin.” Grenerk wagged a stubby, threatening finger, spittle sprayed from between his protruding teeth. “I’ll get you bounced. You won’t ever fly again. And I’ll make sure that Eraranat knows who it was found his caj.” His cheeks puffed out as he looked up at Shan, then his mouth opened and closed in obvious frustration. “Well, he knows already, ’cause I left the message, see? So you won’t get no reward neither.”

In spite of Grenerk’s bluster, the trio backed away warily.

“I’m shaking. Think I might have pissed myself a little.” Shan kept the pistol aimed on the men as they backed out of the alley.

She watched them go, then lowered the pistol but didn’t holster it. “I’m guessing he doesn’t know you’re out here,” she said to Ama. “Yet.”

“No.” Ama flipped up the collar on her coat to hide her gills. “I guess he will now, though.”

“Soon as he checks his comm messages, yep,” Shan said.

“Thanks, for that.” Ama nodded in the direction Grenerk and his crew had retreated.

“Didn’t do it for you.” Shan looked away, holstered her pistol, and rubbed her aching jaw. “Figured saving you might actually get Eraranat’s attention.”

Ama let out one sharp laugh. “Good luck.”

Curious, Shan looked back at her. The caj looked as peeved as she felt.

“He promised me a job over two weeks ago and I haven’t heard a word,” Shan said.

“Don’t feel bad. I threw an auto-med at him and couldn’t get his attention.”

Shan saw the Outer was serious and turned her head to hide her smile.

“Well, so much for that plan, then. C’mon, let’s get out of here.” She jerked her shoulder to indicate that Ama should follow her. Ama kept pace, one hand at her collar to make sure it stayed up.

“Those men, they’re not really going to take your job away, are they?”

“Don’t care if they do. There’s always work for rider pilots,” Shan said, but there was a dispirited tone to her voice that belied her swagger.

“What’s it like to fly?” Ama asked.

“It’s everything. Sky’s a big place. Open. Not like here. You got room up there. Freedom.” Shan gazed upward for a moment. Where everyone else saw the shield, in her mind’s eye she could always see the sky. Feel it, almost.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ama was staring up as well, eyes full of longing. It was an expression she recognized—she had seen it in the eyes of grounded pilots.

“What the karg are you doing out here, by the way?” Shan asked.

“I’m on my way to Old Town, where my people are.”

“On your own? Not smart. Besides, Old Town slideway’s shut down. Storm’s got everything closed down.”

“There’s no other way across?”

“Nope, you got to wait it out,” Shan said.

“How long?”

“’Til morning, probably.” She walked a few more steps before she noticed Ama had stopped. “What?”

“Nothing,” Ama said, but her face told a different story. She glanced over her shoulder, then looked back at Shan. “Morning?”

Shan nodded. Ama looked around and Shan knew what she saw—streets full of potential trouble, full of People who could be as bad as Grenerk and his goons. Or worse.

“Maybe I should go back home,” Ama said.

“How?”

“On the autotrans; the same way I came here.”

“Ain’t gonna happen. Sneaking into the RQ is one thing, but they don’t just let anyone into the Guild Compound, fancy coat or not. You need a pass, and don’t look at me ’cause I am the last Person they’d give one to these days. You didn’t think this out too well, did you?”

Ama shuffled from foot to foot, staring downward. “I guess I’ll wait at the slideway for the Storm to pass and cross over as soon as it opens again.”

“Straight down that way.” Shan pointed. “Turn left at the big recycler depot and keep walking.”

“Left at the recycler. Thanks.”

“I’m going that way.” Shan pointed in the opposite direction. “So—” She shrugged, pivoted on her heel, and walked away.

About a half a block later, she glanced back; Ama hadn’t moved. She turned back and kept walking for a moment before halting and reversing course. “Not my problem, stupid caj should have known better.” She looked up at the shield and scowled. Sad commentary on the state of the World, the closest thing she had to a friend right now was some idiot ungrafted Outer.

“Okay, look,” she said, as she approached, “you can come back to my place until the Storm clears or Eraranat notices you’re—” She paused and stared.

“What?” Ama asked.

Shan stepped up closer and looked Ama up and down, “You’re a bit taller but I could fit you into one of my flight suits. We could hide the—”

She gestured to her neck with her finger, to indicate Ama’s gills.

“—with the helmet and collar. It’s crazy but it’s not like you’d have to do anything but work the stick.”

“The stick?”

A grin stretched across Shan’s face, the pain in her jaw forgotten. “How’d you like to do something to pay back the debt you owe me for saving your hide
and
get out of this dump at the same time?”

Ama cocked her head. “You’re not trying to pull the skins on me, are you?

“Pull the what?” Shan asked, her face twisting. “No, don’t even explain what that means, it’s probably something disgusting your people do around fires. Seriously, I need help with something. Best of all, you get to fly.”

“I can fly?” Ama asked, her face breaking into a hopeful smile.

“You can
ride
while I fly, but you’ll be up front, right there where you can see everything.”

“Yes!” Ama jumped up at the word.

“Calm down, keep your collar up,” Shan said. “There’ll be a bit more sneaking, but the unit I work for, well, I could slip one of your Outer airships past them and they wouldn’t notice.”

She considered warning Ama about the consequences if things went wrong but the chances of that were almost non-existent and from the look on the girl’s face she knew nothing would scare her off. Stupid
and
crazy; maybe this caj wasn’t such bad company after all.

“Let’s get back to my place and I’ll tell you what you’ll have to do while we wait out the Storm.”

“Wait!” Ama placed a hand on Shan’s shoulder in that too-familiar way of touching many Outers had. “What if Seg calls your comm before the Storm clears?”

Shan shrugged off Ama’s hand, pulled the comm from her pocket, and held it up so she could see. She pressed a button on the side and the glow of the screen went black.

“What comm?”

A
kbas swept the CWA’s Orientation Room with a cold gaze. A dozen notable faces were taking in the splendor of the room with its rare and expensive decorations. Ornamental caj flowed between them, carrying platters of taste-whets and drinks.

There.

She slid through the crowd toward her chosen target, a young woman (young-looking, that was), with garish red hair and a suit that fit too tightly.

“Nallin Sastor!” Akbas said, feigning excitement. “Efectuary Jul Akbas, your Media Guidance for this visit.”

It was a role beneath even her current diminished position, but one that she had specifically arranged for herself, for this very opportunity. Around them, the other media figures were greeted by their assigned Guidances. To Jul Akbas, newschatterers had always been interchangeable—talking heads designed to put a human face on the information delivered to the World’s population. Information that was designed, vetted, and phrased to suit the purposes of those in power. But this talking head had managed a seemingly impossible feat, an interview with the Theorist brat, Eraranat, and that could make her a valuable asset.

Nallin stood and offered her own enthusiastic greeting. “Efectuary, this is an unexpected honor.”

“Certainly, but we here at the Authority value our media relations, unlike other more distant institutions. Would you join us on the viewing balcony?” Akbas asked.

As anticipated, Nallin’s face expressed genuine surprise. “Who could decline such an offer? I’d be delighted.”

Akbas’s campaign continued, as she placed a hand on Nallin’s shoulder and directed her away from the crowd. Such informality made her cringe but she had built a career on personal sacrifice and there would be more to come if she hoped to regain her status with Director Fi Costk.

She paused long enough to collect a drink from a passing caj, then led Nallin down the path to the viewing balcony. A massive structure, designed to accommodate more than a hundred citizens, the platform offered a breathtaking panorama of the city of Orhalze, laid out in neat, geometric precision and extending toward the shimmering horizon of the shield that protected them all. The morning light illuminated the shield and everything glowed a brilliant copper.

“We don’t get to come here often enough,” Akbas said. “So much work to protect the World from external threats. And internal threats, as well.”

“Incredible!” Nallin gasped as she gazed out over the city, from a height most People would never ascend in their lifetime. “Do you mind?” She produced a small viscam recorder.

“That’s why you’re here. If you would like some of the decoration in the picture …” Akbas gestured toward the exotically ornamented caj who waited by the wall.

“Perfect.” Nallin nodded.

Akbas motioned to the Handler and two of the caj were hurried into position.

Nallin panned the viscam across the room, stopping to focus on the view framed by the decorations. “You’ll have to forgive the hesitation, Efectuary. Most of my work has been in Cathind; the Guild is a bit less generous with access to their facilities.”