"Ga'to," I said, desperately trying to figure out how the door opened. He solved the problem by triggering it open himself. I slipped in beside him. He sat in the center driver's seat—there were passenger seats on either side of him. We took off in a rush, the music still blasting away. A cool breeze flowed all around us. The driver smiled, bobbing his head in time with the music, his hair floating in the breeze. He wore a loose smock like mine.
"Zemba Ti-sa masi?" HEADED FOR LAKESIDE CITY?
YES/ZED. NO/TANO. "Zed."
We continued the conversation in this way, with several long pauses from me as I read the answers. I had taken the crash psych language course and was anxious to try it out myself, but I was grateful for the autoread on his comments.
"You're not from around here, are you?"
"No."
"Where are you from?"
"Peta Jaya."
"Peta Jaya! Whoa! That's the other side of the world! They don't even speak Trib there, do they?"
"No. A little."
"That's really exciting! Have you ever seen any Man-ghuls there?"
"I don't understand."
"Man-ghuls—snow beasts. They eat people."
"No."
"No?" He seemed disappointed. "Peta Jaya! That's something! Well, you'll find Lakeside a little quiet, after where you're from. Very quiet."
"Quiet?"
"Boring. Boring, man! I go there for the bunnies. There's no action there but it's so quiet they're lined up waiting for Mister Good Lovin' to take them away, and here I am, man."
"Bunnies?"
"Girls! Man, you've been away awhile, haven't you? It's vacation. School's out! Permanently for me, man, I've got a guild locked in—ha ha. Locksmith, man. Over in Hishamon City. Security. No worries. Not what I'd planned for my life. I wanted a little excitement—but there's not much of that available here. Look—there's Lakeside."
The city appeared as a line of distant low-rise white stone structures along the shores of a lake glittering in sunlight. A single tall tower with a top like a flower bud dominated the skyline. The dirt road suddenly turned into white gravel, and we passed under an arch of pale, delicately carved stone.
"Welcome to Lakeside!" the driver said. "That arch celebrates the founding of the city. Peace and Prosperity, it says, over the sign of the mailed fist. The last federal tax collector that showed up here was stripped and painted blue and marched back out that arch by the whole city. I still remember that."
"You lived here?"
"Yeah. I went to school here. Nice place—but boring? Whoa! It's quiet, clean, safe. The last real criminal was executed publicly in the stadium. Slime deserved it. I saw that, too. Yeah, it's quiet." We glided past a series of monumental public buildings constructed of white stone, blinding in the sunlight. The lake was somewhere up ahead, hidden now by a line of trees. Everything appeared new, clean, and orderly. A few pedestrians strolled along the sidewalk. More E-cars glided past us lazily.
"Very beautiful," I ventured.
"Oh, it's nice. A good vacation spot. That's the museum on the left, and the library on the right. The Park Road runs around the lake. Shall I drop you off here? This is the center of town."
"Yes. Thanks." He pulled over next to the library.
"Well, keep score. Say, here's my comcard. Rex Two Lammafam, at your service. Give me a call, we'll hoist a cold one. Need a guide, a translator, I'm your man. What's your name, buddy?"
"West One Outfam, at yours," I said, stepping out of the car. I had memorized the phrase. "Thanks. We are friends."
Another handy phrase. He beamed, raised an arm in farewell, and blasted off in a burst of music. I glanced at his comcard. It featured a head and shoulders holo that made him look vaguely like a god. I slipped it into a pocket. One contact. He might come in handy.
I stood on the sidewalk in the shadow of the imposing library building, carved in delicate filigree work from that marble-like white stone. The library faced the lake. Another wide gravel road circled around the shoreline, lined with shade trees. Park Road, Rex had called it. My side of the street was lined with neat little shops decorated with colorful signs and flags. Another impressive public building loomed in the distance. I decided the library could wait. I had to learn a lot more about the environment before tackling the library. Not to mention that my reading skills were very weak. I was definitely going to need some help.
I crossed the street, avoiding the few slow-moving E-cars, entering the shady park that lined the shore. The lake was suddenly visible. A dazzling sheen of sunlight reflected off the water. The lake was dotted with little pedal-boats, families and lovers out for a leisurely float. There was a lovely water fountain some distance off shore. From time to time it would shoot up to a spectacular height, spraying water over the boaters. Their laughter drifted in the air. In the park people sat lazily on benches in the shade, looking out over the lake. A family had spread out a meal on a tablecloth on the grass. Little kids ran around.
I strolled along the shore towards the tower. It was really impressive, a massive stone stem leading up to the structure that looked like a flower bud. There were windows up there with tiny people looking out. It must be quite a view, I thought.
I paused by a large crowd of kids and adults. They clustered around a long series of metal slots set up on the wide sidewalk. Little toy cars rocketed along inside the slots. Every once in awhile one would come hurtling out to crash into the spectators, to the delighted screams of the kids, who would recover them quickly and put them back in the slots. Adults stood around with the toddlers, watching. Older punks hovered in the background, shaking their hair back and pretending to be uninterested in the proceedings, glancing over from time to time at a gang of girls who were studiously ignoring them.
And I was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness. This was what life should be—a walk in a sunlit park by a lake of liquid gold. Families, holding hands. Children, laughing. But it was the impossibly distant past, on a doomed world. I thought of Moontouch and Stormdawn. I thought of Priestess. We were trapped, in a lunatic struggle that was not going to end until we were all dead. A doomed world? We were all doomed.
I shuffled away from that joyful scene, full of despair. I followed the tacmap hovering in the air before me, away from the lake, past the shops, along a footpath into another park. This one had a lot of plastic tables and chairs set in the shade, most of them occupied by couples or groups chatting over snacks. It looked like lunch time. Two large, monumental stone buildings fronted the park. Several walkways and stairways led up into the buildings. People were coming and going. Control translated the inscriptions cut into the stone—LAKESIDE COMMUNITY HOSPITAL on one and LAKESIDE COLLEGE OF MEDICAL SCIENCE on the other. This was where we had decided to start.
I paused under a tree, looking over the crowd. Some of them were wearing pale blue or green smocks. Probably from the hospital, I thought, or maybe from some lab in the college. Most of these people were probably affiliated with one or the other of these two buildings. Couples—groups.
I noticed a girl sitting alone, nibbling at what looked like a sandwich while peering at a little book. She wore a pale pink smock, but she did not look old enough to be out of midschool. She was tall and thin with short dark brown hair, somewhat ragged, cut in an odd, unattractive style. Heavy, oversized spectacles kept sliding down her nose while she was eating. From time to time she would push them back, but they'd slide right down again. Nice body, I thought, maybe a bit too skinny but slim and fit, nice long legs, possibly a virgin but with a little training she'd be terrific in bed. Those glasses will have to go. That's how I summarized her, brutally, in my mind.
I decided to approach her. I needed a cooperative information source—someone with a link to medical science. She was young, presumably inexperienced in the ways of the world, and hopefully impressionable. I was a bit older, cunning and ruthless. She'd be putty in my hands. Unless she cried—or unbuttoned her blouse. Then I'd be the putty. I tried to
think up a good pickup line, and suddenly realized that I'd never picked anyone up in midschool. Tara had picked me up, and that summarized my entire social life on Galgos. I flashed back to Andrion. My son Stormdawn, a precocious playschooler, was romping in the park with me when he spotted two little girls strolling past us. One of them was an especially pretty little blonde doll. Storm stared at her, fascinated. Then he abruptly walked over to her. Oh no, I thought, he's going to pick her up. How do you do that, when you're only in playschool?
'Wanna see a spider?' he asked. She went for it. March right up! A frontal assault might be bold but I didn't seem to have much choice. However, the spider line was not going to do it here. I left the shelter of the tree, heading her way. I could feel my adrenalin surging. I had charged Systie positions under fire, with less trepidation than this.
"Greetings," I said, smiling. "May I sit here? There are no other seats." She looked up at me, startled, her glasses threatening to fall off her nose again, the pages of her book fluttering loose in a light breeze. She had just taken a bite of her sandwich so she was in no position to answer. I sat down across the table from her, still smiling.
"Sorry," I said. "My Trib is not good." She got her mouthful of food under control, put down the sandwich and turned her attention back to her book, trying to ignore me, only to discover she had lost her place. She was beginning to blush. She pushed her glasses back in place, evidently in a panic over my intrusion.
"Are you a nurse?" I was desperate to get her talking. Put that damned book away, girl! She stole a quick, almost frightened glance at me.
"Zed," she said, almost in a whisper. All right! Spiders!
"You look very young," I said in my fractured Trib. "You must be smart, to be a nurse. Have you finished school?" What a stupid line! I was still smiling, trying to appear relaxed, looking around the park. She was looking at me now, possibly trying to decide if I was making fun of her.
"Where are you from?" she asked suspiciously.
"I am from Peta Jaya," I said. "I am visiting Lakeside. It is beautiful! I am very happy to see your city. You are lucky to live here."
She smiled, and appeared to relax a bit. She had categorized me—a foreigner—presumably harmless. All right! Thank you, Deadman. Now it's up to me.
"Thanks," she said. "It's very quiet."
"Do you work in the college?"
"No. I'm a trainee nurse in the hospital. It's part-time work. I'm still in midschool, but I want to be a nurse."
"That's good. To help people—it is important."
She smiled again, a little sadly. Her book was forgotten. "Are you really from Peta Jaya?"
"Yes."
"Have you seen any Man-ghuls?" Her eyes were wide.
"Yes. Very scary! Sorry—my Trib."
She was looking at me directly now, through thick glasses, no longer stealing furtive glances. She pushed the glasses higher on her nose. She had fine features and wore no makeup. Very nice!
"What are you reading?"
She blushed immediately, and closed the book, hiding the title with one hand. I had already seen the cover art—a young lady swooning in the arms of a dashing lover.
"Nothing," she said. "Just a novel."
"It is a nice day," I said. "What is that tall tower at the lake?"
"Memorial Tower?" She seemed happy to change the subject. "You don't know about Memorial Tower?"
"No. I am new here."
"I thought everyone knew about Memorial Tower."
"I wish to invite you to visit the tower with me. I am alone, and do not know the city." I had memorized that last line.
She blushed scarlet, paralyzed with surprise, fumbling with her glasses again. "I…I cannot…"
"I am so happy to find someone to talk to. I do not know anyone here. You are very nice to talk with me."
She smiled a little but was no longer looking at me. Her hands went back to her book. Come on, girl—live a little! Take a chance!
"It's the Mole! How's my girl?" It was a booming voice from a large young punk approaching our table. He was one big kid, regulation bowl haircut, a tent-like smock, a fleshy face, fat loose lips, squinty little eyes, swaggering confidently. Two smaller satellite punks accompanied him, one little dark ferret-like sleazer with greasy hair, and one hard-looking blond thug with a ruddy complexion.
"Go away, Mega," she sighed, opening her book again. The fat boy approached her, hovering over the table, ignoring me. The other two stood in the background smirking.
"What's this?" Fat boy asked theatrically, spreading his arms in surprise. "Has the Mole finally got a boyfriend? Guy's vision must be worse than yours. Maybe I should take your glasses again and give them to him. Ah ha ha! You reading more medical crap? What's this?" He snatched the book from her hands. I was trying to read the running translation of his comments, hanging in the air before my eyes, but I was now getting upset. This goon was wrecking everything! Good lord! I stared at him in fascination. I could have sworn this fellow's brother used to beat up on me in elementary school. The creep had tormented me for years. But that was a hundred thousand years in the future. Does God produce throw-backs like this in every civilization, just to keep the race alert?
"Aw haw haw! Take a look at this! Yesterday's Love!" He tossed the book to the ferret. "She's dreaming about me! Sorry, Mole, I'm no longer available. You missed your chance! Although I might reconsider if—" I stood before him, almost nose to nose. I wanted to say something insulting and witty, like 'shut your ugly yap,' but due to the language barrier it didn't come out exactly the way I intended.
"You stop talking now," I said. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Then he laughed, delighted, and snatched at my smock with both fat hands, just below my neck. This gave me an excellent opportunity to reach over his grip with my right and apply a rear wristbreaker, grasping the fleshy part of his right palm with a nice firm grip, tearing the other side of his hand away to break his hold while forcing his arm up and over, snapping it suddenly to the right and down and jamming his hand back against his wrist. This is a rather painful hold, even when your opponent is not a Holo-X, and if done with a step-through it results in the bad guy being twisted around and thrown off balance immediately. I did it correctly, locking his arm straight and walking into him hard, keeping his wrist bent and his arm straight, driving him all the way down to the ground. He wound up with his nose digging a furrow in the grass, his right arm locked in place, and my left foot planted firmly on his shoulder. He didn't like that at all, screaming his objections through a mouthful of dirt. I explained with a right kick to the face. I was seeing red and thinking about that creep back in midschool, so I didn't hold back. I knew the kick would end it.
As I released my hold on his hand a fist came out of nowhere and glanced off my left cheek. The blond goon grimaced in shock and stared at his damaged hand in disbelief. You don't want to hit a Holo-X. I swung at him with a right to the face and he dropped like he'd been shot in the head, his nose smashed and gushing blood. You don't want to get hit by a Holo-X, either. The ferret kept his distance, staring goggle-eyed at the carnage. The rest of the lunch-time crowd gasped at the unexpected drama. I walked over to the ferret, snatched the book from his hand, and returned it to the girl, who had been watching in stunned disbelief.
"You come now," I said, urging her up. She snatched up the remains of her sandwich, stuffed it with the book into a little shoulder bag, and came with me, pale and almost in shock. We left behind the ferret bending over his two companions, and a lot of curious people, watching our departure.
"Sorry," I said as we headed out of the park towards the lake. "I do not want trouble. He was bad. Bad to you." My vocabulary limited what I could say. I probably sounded like a retard.
"Where are we going?" she asked. We had just passed the row of shops on Park Road and entered the park by the lake. We paused in the shade.
"Can you show me the tower?" I asked, smiling.
"Are you hurt?" Her slim fingers w
ent to my face in concern. "Jocko hit you."
"No. I am good."
She adjusted her glasses again, looking up at me. We had stopped walking. "Why did you do that?"
"You were good to me," I replied, "and he was bad to you. I was…angry."
She continued staring up at me, almost in amazement, almost in shock, almost as if she had just been struck by lightning.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
"I am your friend. My name is West-One Outfam. I am pleased to meet you. And your name?"
Her eyes filled with tears. She fumbled with her purse, ripped out some tissues, and dabbed at her eyes.
"What is wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing!" she gasped. She trembled, looking up at me through the tears. "My name is Millie. Millie S-Fam. And I thank you."
"Why did he call you the Mole?" I asked. We resumed walking, headed towards the tower.
"Millie the Mole! Because I can't see without these glasses. I never saw anyone hit Mega before. He's such a bully."
"I wish to invite you to the tower. Will you come with me?"
She looked up at me through those awful goggles, delighted. "Of course!"
I smiled back. "I want to see the view."
"Excuse me, kids." A young cop stood there on the path, blocking our way. He was trim and sharp, good build, nice tan uniform, sunglasses, boots, shiny buckles, electric nightstick, probable vac gun in a holster, comset. He looked right at me. I could tell that, even with the sunglasses. "Are you the fellow who decked the Mega and Jocko?" he asked. Another cop appeared out of the park, headed our way. Backup. Damn—complications!
"Yes sir," I said. I knew damned well he already knew.
"Nice one!" he said with a giant grin, and turned away. "That's not him!" he shouted to his partner. "Keep looking!"
We resumed our walk. "Why did he do that?" I asked.
"Because Mega is a troublemaker. The police don't like him. Nobody likes him."
"I will not let him come near you again."
Cross of the Legion Page 19
