The Edge

by Leslie Lee

been sleeping since smelling bad was pretty much that way for everybody who slept in the halls.

  Creeping out of the apartment, he then quickly scurried to the street. He tried to make himself low and invisible. Tons of people clogged the street. Big lines for food and water snaked around. He usually used a little cart to help pull his share when he was with his mom. For now, he wasn't going to the food and water places. He was hungry, but then he was most of the time. It would just have to wait.

  He weaved his way through the shambling mass of people and the piles of garbage and lumps of men, women, families just sitting or sleeping. Liquids oozed down the walls from above, smelling bad, eating at the stone, making them slimy and black. Through one of the few holes up to the Upper Levels, a shaft of sunlight stabbed through. Some people jockeyed in the bright spot trying to get warm.

  He hurried past them, descending into alleys. They were even darker and more dangerous. He knew the way real well, taking short cuts only somebody his size could get through. It was good to know those things if bad people tried to stop him.

  The corner he was looking for wasn't too crowded. Cars could, if the drivers were clever and desperate enough, make their way down here from the Upper Levels. This corner was for the junk. Other corners were for other things. Things he knew his mother was part of. He didn't want to think about those things. She cried sometimes and looked beat up.

  This junk his mom needed was bad stuff. She kept saying how bad it really was but she said she needed it too. It made her happier most of the time but other times would make her sick. But she usually got better for a little while until she needed it again. It scared him. He didn't ever want to touch it.

  Luckily, he spotted the man he needed to talk to. Mak crouched in his hiding place, looking for anything or anyone that might be trouble. It didn't take much for bad guys to catch him here because it was out in the open. He would wait and be very still and sometimes he'd see it was clear. Other times he'd see people who shouldn't be there. He could always out wait them. Usually, the gangs kept the business ways clear. Anyone who shouldn't be there, well, bad things happened to them. They didn't want stuff happening to scare away the money. Right now, it looked like it was okay.

  "Hey, it's little Mak," the man growled at him, his bald white head reflected the feeble light from the windows around him. His head stuck out from a mass of rags which might have been a coat once. It made him look fat and big. He kept a big piece of heavy pipe close to him, leaning it on his leg. "This isn't such a good place for you, little guy. And that's coming from someone who makes this not such a good place."

  That struck him as real funny and he laughed until he coughed up a chunk of phlegm and spat it onto the ground. He always said that even though Mak had been coming here for a long time. It was like he forgot all the time. Just like his mom did. Mak figured it was the junk his mom and the fat guy used.

  "Where's your ma?" he asked, finally recovering himself.

  "She's sick, mister." He still didn't know the fat guy's name. His mom just told him to go see the fat guy and he'd know who she meant. "She needs something. I got money."

  "Holy crap, she should'nta sent you." He said that all the time too. But if Mak didn't come, then she'd have to come and it would be way too dangerous for her. "Well, I got her usual fix right here."

  "It's not that kinda sick."

  "No shit?" The man's eyes got wide, like ping pong balls stuck into a volleyball.

  "Yeah, she's sick sick."

  The man spat again. This time he just looked mad. "Goddamned flu huh?"

  "She's hot. And cold sometimes. She's not waking up."

  The man shuddered as if he'd suddenly gotten sick. "Yeah, little Mak, it's bad this year. Real bad. Somebody's gotta do something about it. Assholes." Mak didn't know who he was talking about, so he kept silent. "So what do you want from me, kid?"

  "You give her the drugs. Don't you got something for this?"

  The man guffawed then hawked something gelatinous and green onto the street. The ground was thick with garbage and dirt. Gotta not make this man laugh so much, Mak thought.

  "Medicine's for rich folk, my little man. Got nothing for that flu."

  The fat guy's eyes sort of trailed off into the distance.

  "Where can I get some?" asked little Mak.

  "Huh, what?" The fat guy startled back into reality, gripping the metal pipe suddenly.

  "Where can I get some of the medicine?"

  "The medicine?"

  "The medicine for the flu?" little Mak asked, patiently. He was used to having these kinds of conversations.

  "Oh yeah. Yeah. Nowhere 'round here, little Mak, no medicine round here for poor folk like us."

  "Where do rich folk get their medicine?"

  "Upper Levels." He grimaced angrily up at the ceiling created by the Upper Level buildings and roads and other stuff blocking the sky and the light. Dirt and dust showered lightly down on them, dancing in a few thin rays of light. "Not for the likes of us. No sirree. We're lower level folk here. Just gotta make do, my little man. Just gotta make do."

  The bald man turned around. A transport drove up to the corner, crunching the garbage in the street beneath its big wheels. Rich folk. The fat man strolled over to the car. A window rolled down and something was exchanged. The transport glided away and the bald man looked satisfied.

  He caught sight of Mak.

  "Hey, it's little Mak," the man growled, quickly shoving something into his pockets. "What're you doing down here? Ain't no safe place for a little guy like you."

  Mak thought furiously.

  "Did you get it?" he asked.

  The man squeezed his face together. "Get what?" He scratched his shiny bald head, flaking skin off onto his dirty shoulders.

  "You were gonna ask the rich folk."

  "You were here just now, weren't you?"

  "Yeah, you said the next time. Next time the rich folk come by, you're gonna get them to give you some flu medicine."

  "Flu medicine's for rich folk, my little man. Rich folk."

  "That's when you said you were gonna make those rich folk cough it up. Then I'd pay you."

  The man laughed and spat again. "I did say that didn't I? Alright, next time those rich bastards ride on by, I'm gonna get you some of that flu medicine."

  The fat man thanked him for turning him onto what he called an "opportunity". His mom got the medicine. It worked pretty quick and she was better in no time. She'd beaten him and screamed at him when she saw how much money he'd spent. She would've gotten better without wasting the money on useless stuff. That's what she said. Then she hugged him really hard and said she was sorry. She said she was saving that money for him. She wanted to buy him some new stuff. She never bought stuff for him. The money was always for the junk. That was okay. As long as she was okay, everything would be okay.

  Time was the enemy of any fighting machine. Battle Group Cobra was no exception. Before the war, the X was on simple exploration. Her escort consisted of a couple of Raptors and Hammers. There were things to do. Many things. But on war footing, there was only two things to do. Fight and wait. When he was fighting, waiting didn't look too bad. When waiting, fighting looked pretty good. The X's crew had duties to perform. But the pilots, they just waited for their next flight. The perimeter patrols were the only times they got to fly. He had hoped the week since the accident would give him time to forget, get over it. The lower half of her body had almost been completely burned away. The left half had been very badly burned. She hadn't had a chance. Had she? But she haunted his dreams. He kept telling himself it was just wishful thinking that she thought of him as anything more than someone she could trust. Someone to watch her back. But he found himself drifting even more. His nightmares exhausted him with feelings, recriminations, of being too late. Sometimes he'd see his mom. Accusing. Or was it Telli? Or that little girl? The pod was cartwheeling and he couldn't stop.

  Something jerked him out of the nightmare. Somebody w
as shrieking.

  TOCSIN 5.

  The screaming he'd heard were the alarms, not him this time.

  His hands were already pulling on his flight suit before his mind had fully awoken. This could be a drill. This could be real. There was no immediate change in the X's engine noise which he could detect. They couldn't have reached their destination. No one had briefed them yet. Then again, maybe some idiot had simply forgotten to tell them they were about to enter combat.

  He exited his cubicle. Blue Box was almost ready. Jerry was the last as usual.

  "A thousand curses on the fool who hit that alarm," he grumbled, struggling with his flight suit.

  "Jerry, we're the fools," said Ranger, shooing some crewman out the door after giving him a quick kiss. The man just left the dorm without looking at the rest of the squad. Etiquette stated you heard nothing, saw nothing, said nothing. Ranger wandered over to help Jerry. "They just hit that little ol' button o' theirs, and we're the ones runnin' around like a buncha chickens with their dicks cut off."

  "They're idiots," groused K'hon, pulling at Jerry's sleeve. "This'd better not be another damned drill. Sick of these stupid ass drills. Sick of 'em, goddamned waste of time."

  He slammed a fist into a palm.

  "Don't hold it in, K'hon," Jerry said, struggling to get his hand through the sleeve. "Tell us what you really think of these drills."

  "Say," said Dakota. "Do chick? Would you please keep still! Do chickens really posses dicks?"

  "I think they're