Dead Man on the Moon (23 page)

He wished he had thought to grab a tracer from the Security office. It would be easy enough to plant one on Bredda and track her that way, but Noah, idiot that he was, hadn't thought of it until it was too late. So instead he had wait.

Not long after Bredda finished her call, a good-looking man in his late twenties strolled up to Todd and Bredda. Noah automatically noted his physical characteristics. Five or six centimeters shy of two meters tall. Hair a medium shade of brown. Eye color indistinguishable from this distance. Late twenties. Medium-to-stocky build. Maybe ninety kilograms, Earth weight. He fit Wade's description of Indigo, but that didn't necessarily mean . ..

"Todd, this is Indigo,"
Bredda said.
"How about a Blue sample for a friend of a friend?"

A wide, friendly smile spread across Indigo's face.
"You got it, babe. Let's go someplace a little more private, hey?"

That was enough to make an arrest. Noah got up and followed the trio as they turned to move down one of the walkways. As they walked, Noah pressed a hand to his ear.

"Obie, call Linus Pavlik," he said. "High priority."

Linus came on the line almost instantly.
"What's going on, Noah?"

"I'm following two suspects in the death of Viktor Riza," he said. "I recorded them planning a drug sale so I've got enough to make an arrest, but I need backup."

"Where are you?"

"Dai Park. The suspects are leaving the scene, though, and I don't know where they're going."

Slight pause.
"There's no one in the Security office at the moment but me, and I can't leave it unstaffed. Nearest on-duty deputy is Marks, and she's ten, maybe fifteen minutes away. Can you wait that long?"

"I don't know." Noah dodged around a group of chattering freshman and brushed against some bushes. Twigs scratched his bare arms. Bredda, Indigo, and Todd were getting farther away. "I'm afraid I'll lose them."

"Stay on them,"
Linus said.
"Marks should be there soon."

Noah broke into a loping trot, trying not to bound above the crowd and draw attention to himself. He cursed his idiocy. Any fool would have known to call for reinforcements the moment Bredda showed herself. Instead he had gaped like a first-year rookie.

"Noah Skyler?"
came a new voice in his ear.
"This is Valerie Marks. I'm tracking your signal and I'm on my way. ETA eight minutes."

"Thanks," Noah replied. "I'm keeping the suspects in sight as best I can."

The trio vanished around the corner of a building into a wide alley. Noah took advantage of the situation and vaulted over the heads of several people so he could catch up. The people shied away. Noah hit the ground and jumped again, feeling like a superhero.

"Newbie!" someone shouted.

"Slow down!" yelled someone else. "You might hurt someone."

Noah ignored them. His third leap took him to the corner. He tried to halt so he could peer around the building, then realized he was still moving. His own momentum shoved him forward, forcing him to take another leap or fall down. Another building loomed ahead of him. It was surrounded by a fierce-looking hedge. Noah pushed sideways when he hit the ground. His ankle turned, and he tumbled into the alley. Cement scraped his elbows and tiny bits of stone tore at his knees. He bounced once, twice, then fetched up flat on his back. A fire escape made a lattice down the side of one of the buildings above him. Burning pain trickled over the scraped parts of Noah's anatomy. Warmth ran down his upper lip and he realized his nose was bleeding. How had
that
happened?

A trio of heads poked into view and looked down at him. Bredda, Todd, and Indigo. Shit. No hiding now.

"What the hell?" Indigo said.

Noah started to spring to his feet, then thought the better of it. He scrambled carefully upright. "Bredda Meese?" he said.

"Who are you?" she shot back.

"Noah Skyler, Security. You and your friend here are under arrest for—"

Bredda leaped straight up into the air. Halfway up the side of the building, she caught the fire escape and flipped onto it with the skill of an acrobat. Noah barely had time to register any of this because Indigo took a sudden swing.

Noah hated fighting. Still, it was part of being a cop, and Noah had never been one to shrink from necessity. His arm reflexively came up and blocked the punch even as he stiff-armed Indigo with the other. Indigo flew backward under the light gravity with a surprised look on his face. Todd gaped. Noah snatched the odd pistol out of its holster at his side and aimed up at Bredda, who was already gathering for another leap from the fire escape. He squeezed the trigger. The pistol coughed like a hippopotamus blowing a spitwad. A pellet spurted upward and pinged against the fire escape. Orange dye splashed over the black latticework. Bredda leaped clear of the fire escape and Noah fired again. The second pellet caught her in mid-flight. An orange flower splashed over her back, her neck, and her hair. The arc of her jump carried her over the top of the building and out of sight. Noah spun in time to see Indigo bounding down the alley. He took more careful aim and fired one more time. Orange dye splattered liberally over Indigo's retreating back. Noah holstered the pistol with a sigh, then remembered Todd. The young man was staring at Noah, his hands half-raised.

"Am I under arrest?" he asked.

"No," Noah said. "Get out of here. And stay away from Blue. These two were trying to get you hooked."

"Yessir," Todd said. He turned and fled.

Noah checked his scrapes with a grimace of pain. A drop of blood fell from his nose and fell slowly toward his shirt. Noah back away, and the droplet landed neatly on the ground, barely making a splat. Another drop started downward. Shit. He looked up at the orange splash on the fire escape. At least the day hadn't been a total loss.

An Asian woman in a brown deputy uniform rounded the corner in a hurry. Acne scars marked her face, and her hair had been buzzed short. "Noah Skyler?" she demanded, screeching to a halt in front of him.

"That's me," he said. "Before you ask, yes—they got away."

"Why didn't you wait for me?" Valerie Marks demanded.

"I... couldn't wait. Circumstances changed." He felt his face grow hot and prayed she wouldn't press for details. Although Noah lied to suspects all the time, he couldn't seem to do it well when it came to his colleagues. Not any better than he did with his family. His mother, in particular, was adept in picking up when Noah was stretching the truth, so he had given up trying to lie to her before he turned twelve.

"Are you all right?" Valerie said. "You're bleeding."

He touched his nose and winced. "I'm fine. Shit."

"No need to swear," Valerie Marks said primly. "We should set an example."

"Uh . . . right."

"So what happened?"

"I rounded corner into the alley and there they were," he said, keeping his tone even. "They knew something was up the minute they saw me. We fought, they ran, I fired. At least the suspects are marked, even if they got away."

Valerie nodded. "It's only a matter of time. Kind of hard to hide indelible dye, and as the Chief likes to say, 'Where are they going to go?' I'll put out an alert. You better get those scrapes taken care of."

"Thanks," he said, and checked his watch. A small pang hit his stomach. "Uh oh."

Valerie, who had pressed her finger to her ear, looked up at him. "What's wrong?"

"I'm running late for my show and I
really
have to go to the bathroom."

Several minutes later, Noah limped into the apartment he shared with Jake and Wade. His nose had stopped bleeding, but his cuts and scrapes still burned, and he must have twisted his ankle worse than he thought—it hurt quite a lot.

How the hell had he twisted it in low-g, anyway? He must have hit the ground just right. Or maybe that should be "just wrong." At least the moon's gravity made it easier to walk with the injury. Jake perched on the couch playing a flat-screen video game. The screen showed a lush prehistoric jungle. Jake waved his hands in complicated gestures, and a small carnosaur jumped over a log to dodge away from a
Tyrannosaurus rex.
The tyrannosaur roared in frustration.

"I haven't seen that game in years," Noah said. "I didn't even know they still made it."

Jake glanced at him, then pointed at the screen. The scene froze. "I loved dinosaurs when I was a kid and held on to my copy. It's still fun, sometimes." He blinked. "Jesus, what happened to you? Are you okay?"

"IT1 be all right. Had a dust-up with a pair of suspects." Jake's eyes went round. "Really? What happened?" "It's an ongoing case. I can't really talk about it." Noah limped into the bathroom and pulled off his shirt to examine the damage. Both elbows scraped, nose half-clogged with dried blood, small bruise on his forearm where he'd blocked Indigo's punch. His ankle still hurt. "Autodoc," he said, "I need help." "Is this an emergency?" asked the computer. "No."

"Please face the medicine cabinet and remain stationary." Noah obeyed, and a green bar of light ran up and down his body. After a moment, the computer beeped.

"Diagnosis: small contusion on right forearm, slight inflammation of right ankle, scrapes on both elbows, ruptured blood vessels in nasal cavity partially healed. Treatment: clean scrapes with soap and water. Treatment: soak contusions in hot water. Treatment: analgesic to prevent pain and swelling. Treatment: mild antibiotic to prevent infection."

Noah held out his arm. A mechanical arm that ended in a wrist cuff extruded from the medicine chest on the wall and clamped gently around Noah's wrist. A slight hiss indicated
the drugs had entered his system. The pain lessened considerably. Noah pulled off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower. The hot water loosened his stiffening muscles and he stood beneath it until his fingers shriveled into pink prunes. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he crossed the hall into the bedroom. His duffel bag lay in the corner. Both beds were made, and Noah made a mental note to pick up a sleeping bag as he rummaged through his duffel for something decent to wear on stage.

Jake poked his head into the room. "You sure you can't talk about it? I'm dying, here. Was it a big shoot-out?"

"Nothing that dramatic. I fell a couple of times chasing two people. I cornered them both. One of them ran and the other took a swing at me. He got away, too, but I marked him. Now I have to get ready for tonight."

"Oh yeah, your show." Jake leaned against the doorframe. "You nervous?"

"Strangely, I'm not." Noah came up with a bright blue shirt and a pair of dark trousers. They'd do. Most of his clothes, including his costumes, were in storage back on Earth. Fortunately, his show didn't really require much in the way of special clothes. He dropped the towel and pulled them on. "I think I've been too busy for nerves."

"What do you do, anyway?"

"Vaudeville revival. I make with some jokes, tell a few stories, maybe sing a little."

Jake shuddered, his dark eyes looking haunted. "I could never do that. I'd be scared that I'd forget the words or screw up in some other way with all those people watching. How do you do it?"

"By remembering what the audience wants." Noah sat on one of the beds to fasten his shoes. "They're not waiting for me to screw up—they want a good show. They're rooting for me, really."

"You ever get a bad audience?"

"Oh, yeah." Noah laughed. "One time a bunch of drunks started throwing nuts at the stage. I tried to make a joke out
of it, but they just got worse. I finished the story I was telling really fast and got off the stage. The manager was pissed at me, but I told him I wasn't going to risk taking a peanut in the eye for him." He stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of the shirt. "How do I look?"

Jake made a frame with his hands and examined Noah through it with exaggerated care. "Pretty good. No bruises showing. What time's the show start?"

"Eight. I need to be there by seven, which gives me"—he checked his obie—"an hour. Just enough time for supper."

"I saw all the fish in the refrigerator and freezer. Where'd it come from?"

"My . . . uh, friend. Her name's Ilene Hatt."

"Ilene
Hatt?
As in—"

"Yeah. Them."