Windswept (41 page)

And I had a way stop the train, thanks to Estella Tonggow.

I climbed down a level to the can filled with Old Windswept, stuffed bottles into my jacket, then climbed down to the bottom shelf. I made my way to the center of the stack, the air getting colder the deeper I went. The sky around me was now a deep blue, almost like a WalWa uniform coat. I’d never liked those coats. Made my neck itch. I opened a can in the middle of the platform, set down the bottles of rum, and got to work prying open the drums until the whole place smelled like sugar and hatred.

I dumped out a quarter of the molasses from one of the drums, then started pouring Old Windswept inside. I tried not to think about the smell or the taste or how many nights of reprieve I was pouring away. I just kept it up until all the rum floated on top of the molasses, then dug the magazine out of my pocket. There were twenty rounds inside, enough gunpowder to start a fire, maybe get a little bit more. Old Windswept was a hundred and fifty proof, and I hoped that would be enough to get things blazing.

My fingers were sore by the time I’d removed the slugs from the casings – and thank you, Our Lady of the Big Shoulders, for making sure every Union deck jacket had a built-in multitool – but I had enough gunpowder to start some kind of mess. I had no idea how well this trick would work, so I erred on the side of more-is-more. I emptied the gunpowder into the rum, dug out the lighter, and–

Something smashed into the back of my head, and I saw stars as the lighter tumbled from my numb fingertips. I staggered back, ears ringing, and managed to see Nariel’s good eye before she charged me. The air whooshed out of my lungs as she rammed me against an empty drum, and I flailed my fists until I clocked her in the temple. She lurched away, and I fell to my knees, my head ringing. I tried to feel around the sticky floor for the lighter, but Nariel recovered enough to come at me again. I got my hands up, but she slipped on the molasses and tumbled toward me. We slid out of the can, following the flow of molasses through the stacks.

I fought to get my footing, but then the crawler rumbled past another tender ring, and I slipped and slid into Nariel. She picked me up by the front of my deck jacket and threw me so hard that I didn’t stop skidding until I hit the safety rail. I clawed my way to my feet, my stomach rolling so much that I leaned over the side to puke. I had just spit the taste of bile out of my mouth when she yelled and ran at me. I tried to sidestep, but my boot caught in the crawler’s lattice flooring as she wrapped her arms around me. The whole world turned upside down as we fell over the side, Nariel’s roar filling my ears–

And we stopped. The ocean, the land, everything spread below me as I was suspended like a puppet on its strings. For a moment, I wondered if the story about your life flashed before your eyes was bullshit and that eternity was getting to see the moment of your death in freeze frame, but then I realized I was on my belly, caught by the safety netting that ringed the crawler’s undercarriage. The safety netting that some nameless, faceless Breach had gotten for us all those years ago by being the last unfortunate bastard to work under the Big Three’s shitty, shitty conditions.

I looked around and saw Nariel had fallen much farther than me. She hung on to the edge of the net, trying to kick her feet up to get a better grip. Whether she just couldn’t find the strength or finesse the move, I couldn’t tell, and, honestly, I was beyond giving a shit. Her eyes were wide in terror. It would be so easy to do nothing.

The Fear hissed,
Do it. She’s everything that’s hurt you. Let her go.

I held out a hand. “Grab on!” I shouted.

Nariel reached out, but her fingers slipped out of mine. I grabbed for her arm, but her armor was so covered with molasses that she just slid away. Her look of horror turned to a bitter smile as she made that horrible coughing laugh and fell. She kept falling, still laughing and flipping me the double bird as she got smaller and smaller.

I half-crawled, half-slipped back to the can, and found the lighter. Its flame was weak, but I shielded it as I held it onto the cloud of gunpowder. It went up with a
foomp
, and then the rum lit into a massive fireball that threw me off my feet as I ducked away. The flames licked the ceiling of the can, and I kicked my way out the door as the molasses caught fire. The heat bit at my back as I skidded away and leaped back over the safety rail.

The netting held, and I crawled to its edge and looked up. The flames spread as the heat caused the other drums to auto-ignite. Burning molasses dribbled down the sides of the platform, sizzling holes in the netting. I wouldn’t be able to stay here long, but, as I saw another tender ring approach, I wouldn’t have to. I jumped again, hitting the ring’s deck and rolling. Everything hurt, and it was cold as hell, but I was free of the burning crawler.

It was now a five-story-tall torch, the heat so intense that pieces of its superstructure began to screech as they cracked away. The platforms groaned, and then, like a felled palm tree, the entire thing hovered in air for a moment before the weakened metal snapped, and all five platforms tumbled straight down. I covered my head as burning debris fell through the ring, some of it smacking next to my body. The crawler fell, smashing into the one below it, its burning bulk snapping free until it came down, and on and on, all the way to the ground.

I rolled over and looked down. It was going to be a hell of a mess at the lifter port, and I hoped I wouldn’t be named in too many lawsuits. Still, that whole thing had gone better than I’d hoped. I could survive up here for a day or however long it took for a crew to start surveying the damage. I felt in my pockets and realized I still had my flask. I knew the alcohol wouldn’t help with the cold, would actually make things worse, but what the hell. I unscrewed the cap and gagged before throwing it away. I’d forgotten that I’d filled with Saarien’s molasses so I could get a sample to Tonggow. I should’ve held onto a bottle, just on principle.

The entire tender ring shook and rattled, and a twenty-story-tall tower of burning metal roared upward. One of the crawlers’ grips still worked, and the collection of debris was so big and wide that it snagged my perch. With a screech, the ring tore free of its tethers, and dragged along into the sky.

Hurray for WalWa engineering, I thought as the sky turned violet.

It got colder fast, and the fire actually burned itself out. Pretty soon, I’d black out. Too bad. It would have been nice to get a view from topside. Like the one the cable apes got every day when they worked. Better than the views in the treatment plant. Jesus, had I really let Jordan and Bloombeck and all those people work there? They just wanted a better life, and I treated them like they were pains in my ass.

Just like Soni. She was always pushing me to do the right thing, to forget about upping my headcount and just
do
something. Easy for her to say, what with her badge and calling and community respect. I shivered and wished I’d had her cat with me, just to curl up with it. She had a cat, right? Where do people get cats? The pet bank?

Banks. Who would take care of Banks? He’d do OK with Wash, right? Wash could use a lawyer who knew fifty ways to kill. Wash would be cool. Or chilly. I meant Jilly. Fucking hell it was cold, and the sky was so dark. Maybe Banks and Wash would look after Jilly, and she’d look after the airship.

Airship?

Yeah, like the one that was closing in on me, the one that was so close I could hear its engines screaming and see Jilly and Soni in the cockpit as it swung around and maneuvered above me. The airship with the loading claw that was reaching out.

That
airship. The one with the sweet, sweet smell of recycled air filled with rust, dust, and enough oxygen to make me think I’d died and gone to pharmacological heaven. I sank to the deck, and Soni, beautiful, bald Soni pulled me into the cockpit and slammed the hatch shut.

“Don’t talk,” she said as she wrapped me in a blanket and put an oxygen mask on my face. “I know that’s tough, but don’t talk.”

“OK,” I said, getting even higher as she cranked up the airflow. I felt like I was still tied to the cable, except without the fear of dying.

“Everything’s under control,” she said as she monkeyed with an IV drip. “For the most part.”

“Yay,” I said.

“We got the twins, and they helped us find the can with Bloombeck’s lab,” she said. “And you stopped the traffic, though you picked a hell of a way to do it.”

“Plus you made it so we could steal this airship,” said Jilly from the pilot’s seat. “No one noticed us take off. I think I like flying better than driving.”

“Get a license,” I said, then caught my breath as whatever was in the drip hit my system. It was like getting a headful of morning air while having an orgasm. A voice in the back of my head said to relax, and who was I not to listen?

“You’re in some serious shit, Padma,” said Soni. “I mean, you stopped the bad molasses, but...”

“S’OK,” I said, melting into the deck. “Got a lawyer.”

Soni flexed her jaw. “I’m not sure about that.”

Everything felt wonderful, so very wonderful that I didn’t notice how wet her eyes were until a tear slipped down her cheek.

“Banks?” I said, not even sure where my own voice came from.

She shook her head. “He was helping evacuate the platform when the debris came down,” she said. “It’s still on fire down there, and it’s so hot that there might not even be a body...”

“Hey,” Jilly said, “how do you land one of these things?”

“Just like taking off,” I said, “only backwards,” and then I was out.

“So,” said Odd Dupree. “Glenn wants me to go back to my old job. Turns out having me home is putting a strain on our marriage.”

I rubbed my temples. “Really.”

Odd nodded. “Yeah. The less time we’re together, it makes one of those absence makes the heart grow fonder kind of things.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

Odd blinked. “Really? You want to know that?”

“No, but you might as well tell me,” I said, motioning to Big Lily for a refill. She brought me a fresh mug of heavy mint and a plate of kumara cakes.

Odd shook his head. “That’s OK, Padma. It’s enough that you care. Can you get me switched?”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll send you the forms.”

Odd shook my hand and twitched his way out the door. I reached for a cake, tore it in half, and popped a piece in my mouth. It was fluffy and sweet, and it burned like hell. I opened my mouth, curling back my lips to keep the cake inside, and sucked fresh air in. I was so busy trying to put out the fire that I didn’t notice Soni take the seat next to me.

“You will never learn,” she said, putting her patrol cap on the bartop. Her captain’s bars had been replaced with a gold star. A whole lot of chiefs had been sacked when Saarien talked about payoffs he’d made. I hadn’t seen Soni on the street in weeks.

“It tastes better when it’s fresh,” I said around the kumara.

“And molten.”

“That’s part of the experience,” I said, reaching for my tea. The heavy mint was soothing, though my tongue still prickled from the steam burns.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re into masochism,” said Soni.

“You work as a Union recruiter for long enough, you have to be,” I said, looking out across the lanai. Two weeks ago, lifter traffic had finally started again, though there weren’t as many loaded crawlers making their way up the cable. The stoppage had put a massive dent in the local economy, and the mad rush to contain the black stripe had made an even bigger dent. Fortunately, there was enough of Saarien’s molasses left over on the ground to keep everything rolling along, and the lawsuits that sucked his accounts dry had helped, too. Still, it would be a long time before Santee was back on steady footing.

Soni reached into her breast pocket and produced an envelope. She set it down on the bar and nudged it toward me.

I looked at the envelope like it was a dead seagull. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“Open it, and you’ll see.”

“If I don’t open it, does that mean I can ignore it?”

“You never used to be afraid of paper before,” said Soni.

“That’s because I was never this broke before,” I said. “If it’s a bill, I can’t pay it. If it’s a summons for another inquiry, I can’t pay for a lawyer. If it’s a request to pony up for the Peace Officers’ Picnic and Rum Tasting, then you can forget it. I always crash that, anyway.”

“That’s stealing,” said Soni. “The picnic pays for our Widows and Orphans Fund.”

“How many police widows and orphans are there, anyway?” I said.

“A lot more, since those Ghosts showed up,” said Soni.

I sighed. “What’s the latest count?”

“Nothing new, thank God,” said Soni. “There are still a few stevedores missing, but I’m following a few rumors that they were never at work that day.”

“Where were they?”

“The kampong, with their Freeborn lovers.”

“Is there a fund for that?”

“Only for their funerals when their spouses catch them,” said Soni. “Now, are you going to open this damn thing, or what?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I have to get to work in fifteen minutes, and I don’t really want any bad news ruining my shift.”

“You’re mucking out the mains,” said Soni. “I don’t see how that could get any worse.”

“It leaves me plenty of time to think.”

“You couldn’t have passed that Slot on to someone else?”

“I treat it like a kind of penance for what happened to Bloombeck,” I said. “Besides, no one else wants the job, and it’s gotta get done.” I pointed at the envelope. “Can’t you give me a hint?”

“Nope,” said Soni, “’cause I have no idea what it is.”

“Really?” I said, giving the envelope a closer look. It was small, plain, and white. My name was written on the front in neat, tight letters. “Don’t your magical cop powers let you see through paper?”

“Sure,” said Soni, “but your little friend, the kid from the kampong, dropped it off on the way to flight school. The whole package was wrapped inside a dozen writs that threatened all sorts of legal doom to anyone who reads this envelope’s contents and isn’t you.”