by Sean Platt
Dominic glanced out the window, allowing himself a sigh. It was unfair to judge Leo and was unfair (and maybe unwise and naive) to have assumed Leo was above judgment in the first place. Either what Austin said about Leo’s troubling roots was true or it wasn’t, and until Dominic knew for certain — not through words, but through tangible evidence — there was no reason to think about it. And besides, even if Austin was right about Leo’s history, the fact that he’d lied about who he used to be meant little here and now. All it really proved was that Leo had once been an enemy of the state. It didn’t prove that he still was one, or that he ever would be again.
And he wouldn’t be. The idea was absurd.
Today, Leo was a hippie. Today, he eschewed technology and tried to live a simple life. He was too old and too granola to overthrow anything. Dominic knew Leo as he was today, and he knew his compound and the others in the village with him. The old man cared about his people and his dust. He cared about his ideals and his silly paper books. The world would be what it was, and today, Dominic felt quite certain that Leo wasn’t about to use a hammer’s strength to try and change it.
Now, on the train, there was simply no point in giving it any more thought. Dominic would be at the Organa compound soon, and he could look for answers then. His deal with NPS was, at the moment, irrelevant. Regardless of whether he’d promised to double-cross Leo, it would be his decision in the end. If Leo was dirty, he deserved what would come. If that turned out to be the case, Dominic would honor the NPS deal and give Austin all he needed to take the old man down. But if Leo was clean — in present and future even if not in his past? Well then, fuck Austin Smith and the NPS. Dominic Long wasn’t the kind of man who sold out blindly. He wasn’t like Omar.
Omar.
Dominic’s fists tightened, untrimmed fingernails digging into the meat of his heavily callused palm. Leo deserved benefit of the doubt, but Dominic would never, ever trust Omar again. He never should have believed in the man to begin with. The rungs of Omar’s ladder to affluence were fashioned from bones, and every slippery situation Omar had weaseled his way through had been lubricated with someone else’s blood.
Dominic had known all of that, of course, but despite being an intelligent man, he’d made ego’s most common mistake: thinking he knew better, and that things would be different for him. He’d reasoned that Omar needed Dominic as much as Dominic needed him. To his credit, that much had been true. But he hadn’t considered that there might be an even larger opportunity dangling above Omar’s head. He hadn’t considered that Omar had another plum in the offing: something that mattered to him even more.
Dominic wanted to kill Omar. He wanted to violate his policeman’s ethics, wrap his large fingers around Omar’s scrawny neck, and squeeze until spine merged with windpipe. But as satisfying as that would be, he couldn’t do it. Not only had the NPS given Omar immunity, but (and this was beyond humiliating) the obnoxious truth was that Dominic still needed him, even though the same wasn’t true for Omar.
There had been the emergency shipment of moondust, which Dominic’s phone call had put into play. Reluctantly, Dominic had to give Omar credit for that. He still hadn’t paid the dealer, and the sum for the tiny amount would be so small, it’d be inconsequential to Omar’s growing empire of corruption. Omar must have stuck his neck out to stash it, too, risking the wrath of his new NPS chums. At first, Dominic had thought that the only reason Omar would have done it was, impossibly, compassion. But then he’d decided that it was probably just good customer service because he’d known Dominic would have no choice but to run back to the man who’d betrayed him in order to do more business.
Yes, that sounded more like Omar.
Omar was the only high-volume dealer Dominic knew. He was the only one with moon access, able to deliver enough meterbars to keep the Organas’ habits fed — and, for that matter, Dominic’s own. Without dust, the peaceful Organas would go dry and then, in the ensuing tremors, tear each other to pieces. Lunis withdrawal was awful. And here Dominic was again, out of dust and desperate, just a week after the emergency shipment’s arrival. Out of time again, under the gun, facing a junkie epidemic, and totally out of options.
Dominic touched the train’s window, brought up the time, and noted that the train was, of course, precisely on schedule. Travel had become extremely reliable and safe once AI had taken it over. The Beam touched everything, so it could easily push vehicles and traffic from a train’s path if it was for some reason forced to leave late.
But goddammit, there were no temperature controls on the window display.
“Canvas.”
The canvas chirped.
“Cool it the fuck down in here,” Dominic snapped, annoyed that he’d had to speak aloud.
“Yes, sir. Which temperature would you prefer? The current temperature is 25 degrees Celsius.”
“Human temperature,” said Dominic.
“How about a two-degree incr — ”
“Fuck off.”
“Yes, sir.”
Immediately, the room began to cool. He wasn’t sure it would be enough. Dominic’s scalp was growing hotter by the moment.
Fucking NPS.
Fucking nanobots, paralyzing him at the bust. He still didn’t feel like he’d shaken that off.
Fucking data thief, prying into his business with Crumb — and maybe, some day, finding his business with Chrissy.
Fucking Leo, lying to him and souring all that Dominic had come to believe.
Fucking Omar.
And while he was at it, fuck his own continued dependence on that slippery asshole.
Soon, he’d be at the Organa compound. He wasn’t sure what he’d find. Dominic had sent a message to Leah. The Organa were supposed to eschew as much of The Beam as possible, but Dominic knew that Leah, who bridged the worlds, would get the message and pass it on to Leo. He hadn’t trusted himself to call Leo as he usually did. Until he could stand in front of the old man and look him in the eye, he wouldn’t know how he felt about him. He wouldn’t trust himself not to become mad and start screaming, losing himself to boiling emotions.
But because he hadn’t talked to Leo, he hadn’t gotten the feel of the compound, of their supply, and of just how high and dry Omar had left them. Lately, Dominic had noticed an odd edge to Omar’s dust. He’d found himself wanting to use it faster and consume more. The high had become more paranoid than mellow. The Organa were a large pool of addicts, and Dominic didn’t know if they’d still be clinging to the emergency shipment or whether they’d already have run through it and now be entirely dry and starting to panic. He had a few centimeter bars with him to deliver, but it was barely enough to be a patch. He’d had to scavenge it himself. Omar was the only game in town, and he was late again. Dominic would have to tell the Organa to wait, to be patient, and to try not to panic while Omar fucked them all.
Sitting in the bullet train, Dominic felt himself starting to flip-flop on Omar. He decided that if he could kill him and not destroy the Organa addicts in the process, he’d do it. He’d never killed a person in cold blood before, but for Omar, he could make an exception and bust his murder cherry. He would be doing the world a service, really. Not only had Omar betrayed Dominic to NPS; he’d also been screwing up a growing number of shipments lately. He was supposed to have had another batch to Dominic already, but the last moondust shipment had failed as surely as the one that had led to his arrest. The first time, a runner had been pinched. This time, a transport had failed. And in addition to those two failures, Dominic had heard through the grapevine about a third incident wherein a runner had sprung his concealed hatch while being inspected. Whenever things went bad, Omar always deflected blame and came out clean. It was those who trusted him who always suffered.
Omar, I need another shipment, and I need it bad, Dominic had told the dealer when they’d spoken before he’d boarded the train. If you fuck it up, I swear to West you will have used up the last tiny bit of usefulness you have to me, a
nd once that’s gone, I’ll kill you myself.
Omar had laughed then had made another casual comment about Dominic being a good man. It was as if he’d forgotten everything that had happened between them and had assumed Dom had done the same. But Dominic had not forgotten, and with a village of junkies running dry on his mind, he wasn’t in a laughing or forgiving mood.
It’s cool, Dom, Omar had said. I got a new girl running dust, and she’s better than all the fools I had before. You got nothin’ to worry about. No problems here.
Then he’d given that little laugh of his. The one that implied that Dominic’s reservations about Omar’s reliability were ridiculous.
Dominic sat in the train compartment, stewing. None of this was good.
Omar’s complacency wasn’t good. Omar should be shaking in his boots, afraid to move within his underground empire. But instead he’d ended up calling Dominic’s shots, holding all the cards.
The deal with NPS wasn’t good. It exposed Dominic like an eviscerated corpse. His innards were on display — for Austin if not for the NPS and DZPD as a whole — with all of his dirt a hair’s breadth from exploding back at him. Someone knew about what he’d done with Crumb and Chrissy. They knew he dealt dust. If Dominic didn’t do what NPS wanted, he’d lose his job and be sent to jail or Respero.
The situation with Leo (something that was still waiting for Dominic like a bomb about to explode) most certainly wasn’t good.
Even what Leah had done with her nanos to entangle Quark, DZPD, and Organa wasn’t good. Dominic had almost forgotten about that little nugget in all of the fun he’d been having lately. Leah had dropped a few nanobots behind the Quark firewall. Had the Quark agents, who Leah claimed were Beam clerics, known what she’d done? If so, what would Quark do about it? And if they didn’t know, what good could possibly come from Leah shoving her fingers where they didn’t belong? Did it mean that Austin was right — that Organa really was planning some sort of a revolt or uprising, and that Leah was involved?
The compartment felt hot despite the temperature adjustment. He snapped at the canvas again to cool things down further then watched the world pass by outside the windows. Then, for the remainder of the ride, he tried not to consider his unknowns and problems. He failed miserably, his head pounding as suburban sprawl surrendered to outback.
Dominic disembarked the mag train, switched to the conventional train and rode it to the end of the line, then left that train and marched up to meet Leah at the horse barn. But to make things even more delightful for the stressed-out police captain, Leah wasn’t there.
He checked his handheld and, with a groan, realized she’d never answered his mail. She might not even have gotten it, and he’d been assuming she unquestionably would. Leah was Organa, but she was the most practical among them. She alone understood that culture couldn’t avoid existing within a system, and that The Beam controlled that system. Leah checked her mail regularly, even when she was up in the mountains. But she hadn’t bounced back his latest, and that wasn’t like her at all.
Feeling unsettled, Dominic walked through the barn until he found himself face-to-face with the paint that Dominic was relatively sure was Leah’s normal mount. Even the horse’s presence was strange. Leah wasn’t the only Organa who came and went on Missy, but Dominic couldn’t help but wonder if her presence in the stall meant that Leah wasn’t at the compound.
He opened the stall, led the horse out using her halter, and snapped her into a set of cross-ties like he’d seen Leah do. Then he realized that even if he could find the right saddle, he had no idea how to secure it. He had no real idea how to ride, either. Did you steer a horse, or did the horse just go where it would normally go, like a tram on a rail? If you had to steer, how was it done? How would he tell Missy to stop if he had to? And what if he didn’t put the saddle on right — would he swivel around and end up hanging under the horse like something out of a cartoon, then get trampled? What if he broke his neck?
With a sigh, Dominic returned Missy to her stall. Then, with a bigger sigh, he set out through the back of the barn on foot.
Traversing the trail was harder than he’d thought. For the first time, he began to regret his lack of artificial enhancement. Endurance nanos would have expedited the transfer of oxygen to his ailing muscles, keeping his exertions aerobic and allowing him to steady his breath. They would have shuttled lactic acid away to keep his legs from burning. But he had none and felt every ascending step more than the one before it.
As he hiked on, Dominic began to feel his lack of fitness and every year of his age weighing on his shoulders like carried weight. The sensations were both visceral and troubling. The world had become a place where eighty-year-olds looked thirty, and he already looked older than most. It dawned on him that one day — probably before the first crow’s feet crawled into the corners of Isaac Ryan’s eyes — he would die. The knowledge hit him like a sack of grain. He put his hands on his knees, bent over, and closed his eyes. Then he shook his head and marched on, resting when he had to, trying to keep the feeling of the reaper’s presence at bay.
Eventually, he made it to the end of the trail and emerged into the field at the head of the Organa gates. Ahead of him were two pastures side by side, both fenced in and with a dirt trail running between them with a strip of grass at its center. At the trail’s head was the front gate itself, which was, as usual, chained open.
At the gate, Dominic put his hand on the fence and rested, trying to catch his breath. He looked toward the compound and wondered what he would encounter at its heart. What would he learn about the village’s mood, supply, and level of fear? What would Leo say when Dominic asked his questions? Would he bluster and deny? Would he tell the truth…and if he did, would Leo’s version of the truth square with Agent Austin’s? Or would Leo be too panicked over his dwindling Lunis supply to hear Dominic’s questions at all?
He rested with his hand on the fence, still breathing heavy. Dominic was an endangered species in this day and age. Only failed Enterprise and the few Directorate who managed to spend their way below the line were as unenhanced as Dominic. Dominic had all the money he’d need to get any upgrade he wanted, and yet here he was, remaining human like a sucker.
He looked down at his pudgy, callused human hand as it rested on the fencepost and suddenly realized that he was standing at the Organa gate.
The unguarded Organa gate.
The gate didn’t need guarding, but it was always guarded nonetheless. It had been that way ever since Dominic had dropped his second bit of cargo off with Leo, for hiding and safekeeping.
Dominic looked around at his quiet mountain surroundings and thought: Where is Crumb?
Then he looked toward the compound, eager to see any trace of human activity. Suddenly, all he wanted, before he walked the rest of the way in, was to see a single hippie walking the grounds. But the area was as still and empty as the gate. And just as unguarded.
“The squirrels are going to breach your perimeter, Crumb,” Dominic muttered. Then he paused long enough to hear to the answering rustle of a light breeze and added, “Noah Fucking West.”
After a long sigh and a few more moments, he took his hand from the fencepost and started to walk the rest of the way into the compound, like an ancient sheriff returning to his raided town.
Chapter 5
Kate felt the pull beneath her decrease as her shuttle cleared the Earth’s gravity and moved into low orbit then felt a switch as the ion drives gave way to the gentle boost of thrusters nudging her toward the giant dangling plumb bob of the lunar elevator. As the shuttle neared the elevator, retro rockets fired, slowing her approach until the shuttle was floating directly in front of the tether. She watched as the docking arms reached out and grabbed the climber’s frame then drew it tight. The counterweight, farther down near geostationary Earth orbit, was heavy enough that the shuttle’s momentum wouldn’t knock the tether out of kilter even if it struck it full-on, but anything much beyond this
gentle kiss would cause it to bunch and tangle. If that happened, a lunar repair crew would have to descend — possibly bringing a shuttle along for assistance — and restore it. That would raise questions about competency and require paperwork, and while Kate didn’t mind ruffling feathers, she hated questions. Especially during missions like these.
Once her shuttle had docked to the climber, she felt a parody of gravity resume as the thing sped along the nanotube tether toward the docking base at the L1 Legrange point, where, looking through the windows, she could see the domes and interconnected tubes of Alpha Station. To Kate, the Alpha Station always looked like a hamster habitat from this high up. And, in a way, it wasn’t dissimilar. Tubes traveled from one compartment to another, and one on the far side led — like a highway complete with its own traffic — all the way over to the famous Mare Frigoris station on the moon’s far side. People scuttled from dome to dome like rodents in one-sixth gravity, sustained by oxygen, food, and water provided by the AI running the station. Kate sometimes wondered what would happen if the AI decided to starve the inhabitants or keep them from breathing. But then again, everyone sort of wondered that, even though nobody cared to admit it.
