Two
THEY SAY THE DOMES of Nine are so bright you can see them from anywhere in the system. I don't know if it's true but they certainly looked pretty as we coasted down into dock. Of course, those of us that grew up in the subsystem below are not so easily impressed. There was an old spacer that I used to run errands for when I was kid, once said it was like an iceberg. I remember that when I asked what that was, he just laughed, a long croaking cackle that dissolved into a cough. He lived in a cabin down the track and I used to hang around a lot. I went there mostly because it was warm but sometimes he would start to talk and then I would just sit and take it all in. He had actually been born on Home, that's how old he was and to a kid like me, whose only world was the tangle of the under city, it was magical. My mother tried to make me keep away, said he was a crazy, that he'd spent too long in space and maybe it was true but that didn't stop me stowing away on a mining ship when I was only fourteen years old.
We glided on over the luxury cruise ships and then past the long rows of the sporty playthings of the rich and powerful. On Kwa Nine appearance is everything. No way a working ship like mine was going to dock anywhere in plain sight, certainly not at the prices they charge. I was just pulling up to the dock when Drd padded into the cockpit.
“Crck fruup?” he chirped and jumped up into the co-pilot's chair.
“Come on,” I mock snarled at him. “Speak human.”
“Ftrrp rrt ckrh Kwa drrtfth,” he replied.
“Beautiful is going a bit far.” I didn't speak Kwa beautifully, but I could get around in it. I was one of the few humans who had bothered to learn, which is probably why Drd put up with me.
When we got close Drd hit the EMT which pulled us in snug. I flicked on the comm.
“Wake up, we're in.”
A tousled head appeared in the viewer.
“Out again tomorrow?”
“As long as you're paying.”
“See you then.”
The viewer flicked off. Drd spun his chair and gave me a look, his eyes fading pink and white again in disapproval.
“What?” I said. “You don't need the money?”
Drd pulled a three-armed shrug that was weirdly human in meaning and hopped down from the chair, his movements concise as he dragged a tool bag from under the console.
“Phut rrike sprnd nrt,” he whistled over his shoulder as he scampered down the passage that led to the engines.
“You too!” I replied. I stood and stretched, feeling a brief dizziness and then clenched my eyes shut. I needed shore time.
STEPPING OUT OF THE lift was the sensory equivalent of a mugging. A cocktail of smells: denfr root, cooking fat and urine, overlaid the the background iron tang of blood. Coloured pools of light spilled out of the shops and bars along Main to mingle with reflections of neon signs and video screens. Vidcasts, music, shouts and cries all competed to be heard over the background echos. This is the sound of the undercity, that pervasive susurration of sounds with nowhere else to go.
The third bar along was named 'The Rocking Horse' which sounded cute until you realised that it referred to the music and the ready availability of hard drugs. Still, they did a good meal for a low price, so I slipped in among the crowd. It was dark inside. Smoke filtered through the rays of light from the games racked up along the wall. I squeezed onto a stool at the far end of the bar between a skinny old guy mumbling into his drink and a big Kwa-doon wearing the uniform of a dockworker. He'd pulled the suit down off his shoulders and the empty sleeve slapped at me every time he moved. It was annoying but not so much that I felt like complaining, not in the kind of bar where you didn't want to draw attention to yourself.
“Trd th'plth?”
“The special.” I dropped a ten on the bar. The little Kwa-nrt with the earrings, known as Katie to the regulars, picked it up with one hand while pouring a drink with the other two. She set it in front of me before whisking away to another customer while I took a cautious sip. With the special you get what's cheap, which usually means black market, strength guaranteed and taste variable. Tonight, it wasn't too bad, so I let it roll around my mouth a little before sliding down my throat. Coolness in my mouth turned to warmth in my stomach and I felt myself start to relax.
“Rtht plntht!” Katie dropped a tray in front of me as she bustled past.
“Thanks sweetie!” I called after her. She was carrying two drinks which left her a hand free to blow me a kiss.
The food trays in the Horse have four sections but I've never understood why; invariably they all contain the same brown goop. Still, it's surprisingly tasty, at least if you like spicy food, and I made quick work of the first two portions. I'd just left my spoon upright in section three and was reaching for my drink when someone tapped me in the shoulder.
“I'm eating.”
This time the hand landed heavily on my shoulder and stayed there.
“I said, I'm eating!” I reached up to push it away but never got the chance.
“What the...?” Grabbed by three powerful hands, I felt myself pulled backwards off the stool and lifted bodily into the air.
“Grwrrwrff!” shouted the Kwa-doon as it carried me over the heads of the other customers.
“Get off me!” I squirmed frantically in the rigid grasp. “Put me down!”
“Jddrwrwff!” The Kwa-doon changed his grip, clasping me upside down against his chest. The discomfort of the fur pushing through fabric into my face was only topped by the appalling smell, it was like cuddling up to a putrefying camel.
Fortunately, the experience was short lived. After only a minute I heard a door slam and felt myself being swung into the air and then dumped unceremoniously onto a hard chair. It took a moment for my head to clear. In some ways my position had improved, I was the right way up and no longer being suffocated, but that was all the good news. I was sitting beneath a single light at a table in a small room at the very back of the bar. I could see no one, but I had a keen sense that danger lurked in the shadows.
“What the hell's going on?” I wanted to sound angry but even to myself I sounded scared.
“Wilson McCauley” A voice from the shadow directly in front.
“Who wants to know?”
“Fish boat captain...”
“What of it?”
“Small time smuggler...”
“You can't prove that!”
“All round loser...”
“Hey!”
“You owe me money!”
The figure that stepped into the light was as elegantly dressed as the captain of a star liner. Creased cream trousers, a blue blazer complete with brass buttons and a silk scarf to complete the look. He could have stepped straight off the bridge of a luxury yacht, although the extra arm was a bit of a giveaway.
“Chair,” he ordered imperiously. A large form appeared out of the shadows and carefully placed a chair at the table. Generally speaking the chairs in the Rocking Horse had seen better days, some had probably seen better decades, but this chair was different. There was not a speck of dust on the comfortable upholstery, and the bits that weren't upholstered gleamed like gold. With a small sigh of satisfaction, the Kwa-nrt sat, folded two of his arms and pointed at me with other.
“Ten thousand credits to be precise.”
“Ten thousand?” I protested.
“Yes. Universal, not system!”
“But the only person I owe money to is ...”
“Simmi the Snake?”
“Yeah, for repairs to my ship.”
“Now you owe it to me.”
“You bought the debt?”
“Inherited actually.”
“Inherited? You mean Simmi's dead?”
“Indeed. He passed away quite suddenly.”
“When?”
“Shortly after completing his will.”
I stared at the debonair figure opposite. His manner was offhand but his eyes were cold and dead. I felt my anger slowly seeping away and with it, my courage.
“That's ...” I licked my lips “... a bit more than I owed.”
“Interest, late repayment charges...”
“Late repayment charges?”
That cold stare again.
“Exactly how much have you repaid?” The Kwa-nrt asked.
“Well, none.”
“Hence the charges.” He leaned forward, put his elbows on the table and smiled in a way that did nothing to reassure. “Let's cut to it shall we? How much can you afford to pay?”
“Right now?”
“Right now.” Again the smile.
“I could get maybe two-fifty in a couple of days.”
“Two-fifty.” The Kwa-nrt turned and waved a hand in my direction. “Do you hear that gentlemen? He can pay back two-fifty! Aren't we fortunate?” There was a rumble of laughter, the sort you get when people know it's time to laugh, even if they don't know what's funny.
“Enough!” Three hands slammed the table as the laughter cut off abruptly. “Ten thousand credits, two days time, or I take your ship.”
“That's impossible!”
“Take it or leave it!”
“You'll have to kill me first!”
“I assumed that was the case.”
For a moment I looked down at the table. The offer was ludicrous. So ludicrous in fact that I wondered why the Kwa-nrt had bothered to make it. For the first time I felt a glimmer of hope. I looked up, straight into those dead eyes.
“What is it you really want?' I said.
Three
THE MOMENT I STEPPED through the door I knew someone else was there. I reached for the light control but then stopped, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dim interior. My cabin was just three standard units, which means there weren't many places to hide, but still I sensed something. Behind me the door slid shut with a hiss and bleeped as it locked. I flexed my fingers and then curled them into a fist before stepping forward.
The attack came from my left, and I ducked under outstretched arms and punched hard and low, felt the impact and heard the satisfying grunt of pain. My attacker threw his arms out again, catching me a glancing blow on my ear and then catching hold of my jacket. I tried to pull away but the other arm caught as well and I felt myself being pulled into a bone crunching embrace. Arms immobilised, I stamped down as hard as I could and heard a brief cry, cut short as we overbalanced and fell crashing to the floor. For a brief moment I lay stunned before realising that the figure on top of me was shaking with silent laughter.
“Rilk?” I pushed him away and he rolled onto his back, the laughter no longer silent.
“Stupid idiot!” I stood, reached for the light control and flicked it on. He lay there, filling what little floor space there was, tears of laughter in his dark eyes, his pack and boots sat huddled by the wall, his coat sprawled across the bed.
“I could fucking kill you!”
“Aw C'mon!”
“You've been away for months, you leave your stuff everywhere and you fucking leap at me out of the dark!”
He pulled himself up and sat down next to me. For a moment he did nothing, then I felt the roughness of his palm against the side of my face.
“Aren't you even a little pleased to see me?” he said, his voice soft.
I turned my face into his hand, savouring the familiar smell as I pressed my lips against his skin.
LATER, IN THE DARK, I traced my finger down a long scar that stretched across his chest.
“This one's new,” I whispered. He stirred sleepily.
“One of the fuckers got a little close,” he muttered. I ran my hand up, over the solid muscle and the hard ridge of his collar bone, stopping at the point where the gentle roughness of his stubble began. My finger traced a circle and then ran the length of his jawbone before coming to rest in the gentle cleft of his chin.
“Why did you come back?”
“Hmm?”
“The last time, you said you were never coming back.”
He pulled away, rolled his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. I reached for the solid wall of his back.
“Sorry,” I said quietly.
“No.” I sensed the shake of his head. “I said some stupid shit. I was just, well, shore crazy I guess. It was time to get away.” He stood, and my hand brushed his skin as he left. After a moment the sound of running water broke the silence. I rolled onto my back and lifted my left hand, brushing the wall until I felt the control panel. A second later the room was lit by a blaze of stars as the ceiling transformed, replaced by a holographic projection of the system.
“Now there's pretty,” Rilk leant in the doorway.
“I put it in after you left.”
He came back to the bed and we lay, side by side, and looked up into space.
“Where were you?” I asked
“There.” He pointed. “It's strange,” he continued. “When I was here I just wanted to get back out there, get the job done. But then when I was out, all I thought of was getting back to you.”
I pushed myself up on one elbow, and drank in the look of him, then slapped him, hard, right in the middle of his chest.
“Ow!” he yelled. “What the fuck is that for?”
“That's for leaving!” I lowered my head and kissed him, savouring the dark saltiness of his lips.
“And that?” he asked huskily.
“That's for coming back.”
“THEY CALL HIM THE DUKE.”
“The Duke?”
“Yeah.” Rilk put down his fork and leant back in his chair. “It's an old title, like a king or something, means he's real powerful.” He pushed his chair back and stuck his legs out past the table, ankles crossed. Picking up his cup, he sniffed it before taking a tentative sip, pulled a face and put it back down.
“He's dangerous!” he said.
I shrugged. We were having breakfast in a bar about five minutes down the track from my block. It was a little nicer than our usual hang outs but then Rilk was paying so I wasn't complaining.
“I mean it,” Rilk said. “He don't mess around. Sort to kill ya as soon as look at ya.”
“Yeah, I kind of got that?”
“He threaten you?”
“Not directly.” I finished the last of my waffle and pushed my plate away. “But I figure he had Simmi killed.”
“Yeah? Even more reason to stay away huh?”
“Except I owed Simmi money, so now I owe it to this Duke.”
“Can you pay?”
“No chance!” I took a drink and smiled at Rilk's worried look. “It's ok, we came to an arrangement.”
“That doesn't sound good.”
“All I've got to do is transport something for him.”
“Like what?”
“Don't know yet. I've just been told the pick-up.”
“Which is where?”
“Zestrade, it's in the asteroid belt.”
“I know where it is.”
He didn't look happy. To be honest I wasn't either. Traipsing half way across the system to meet some illicit trader in a bar was not really my idea of fun. I knew Rilk was right to be worried, but I wasn't about to show him that I was too.
“You know it's gonna be illegal, don't you?” he continued.
“Actually, I know nothing.” I waved a finger in an exaggerated manner “If I knew it was illegal, I'd be committing a crime. Ask no questions! First rule of smuggling.”
“So it is illegal.”
“Yeah, of course it is, but what choice do I have?”
Rilk shrugged and then leaned forward, elbows on the table. At first glance he looked like what he was, a mercenary, a man accustomed to violence, a brutish thug that even here in the under city you would cross the street to avoid. But I had looked a little deeper, past the shaved head and the broken nose, and found something more. Looking again into his eyes I saw the joyful and caring soul that lived beneath the scars.
“Take me with you,” he said quietly.
“You're kidding right?”
/> “No. I mean it, I want to come.”
“You think I can't look after myself?”
He reached across and took my hand.
“I know you can,” he said, “but where's the harm in a little back up?”
I let him hold my hand for a second and then pulled it away.
“Aren't you forgetting something?” I asked.
“Like what?”
“Like your next tour?”
He pursed his lips and looked away for a moment. When he turned back I could tell he had come to a decision.
“What if I don't go back?”
“What?”
“Listen,” he said. “All the guys I signed up with, who were on my first tour? They're all dead! Then this last tour I came close, too close.”
I thought of that scar and nodded.
“I feel like I'm on borrowed time,” he continued. “Like my luck can't last forever.”
“You've never said anything like this before.”
“Maybe now I've got something to live for.”
I couldn't help but smile.
Four
“FRRDDT THTL FRP!”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I should have told you, but it was kind of last minute.”
“Wrtt drrp!” Drd stomped up the ramp and onto the deck.
“That was a bit harsh!” I shouted after him.
“What did he say?” asked Rilk.
“You don't want to know!”
“Doesn't he like me?”
“Oh, it's not you,” I replied. “He just doesn't like surprises.” I hefted my bag onto my shoulder and stepped onto the ramp. “Better hurry.”
“Why?” asked Rilk.
“He might decide to leave without us.”
We stowed our bags and went through to the cockpit. Drd was busy at the controls running the pre-flight checks.
“Vrt Trp drtyrp?”
“Zestrade,” I answered. “We’ve got a little job to do.”
“Ftrth?”
“Just collecting something. It’ll be fine!”
“Pdrd krrp trkt!”
“I know that’s what I always say. Just program the NavCom will you?”
Thus Falls the Shadow Page 2
