Light Shaper (29 page)

“We need to go to that site, find the cradle room. I have to try and do what Atlas told me.”

“You sure? I was thinking it’s not your problem anymore. I have some contacts who could get us an airship ride out of here. We could leave the city for good before Tanner finds us.”

Rigel shook his head. “You didn’t see… you didn’t see Misha, Steve. What Atlas told me…. I’ve seen what that dark thing can do now, firsthand. I need to try and stop it. For my friend. And for myself. Somehow, I don’t think that shadow will leave me alone if I run away from here. I need to go awaken Atlas if I can. Then I’ll think of getting out of this city.”

Steve sighed. “Fine. I’ll help you out however I can.”

“If we’re doing this, how are we going to get to the Haven III site?” Rigel asked, turning around to face Steve. Out in the open, his bruises did not look so bad. He had washed away the blood and put a Band-Aid over the worst cut. Now he just looked as if he had smacked his face with a car door by accident. “Do you know a way?”

“I think I might. Sort of. That site is northwest from here, right?”

“Yeah. I saw the place when Atlas showed it to us. I’ve never been there, but I will probably be able to recognize the spot once we’re close. Besides, there’s got to be a road leading to it.”

“Maybe. I know that archaeologists used to go there before it became the property of CradleCorp, but that was years and years ago. We’re probably going to need an all-terrain vehicle to make it all the way there. Something sturdy, and fast, in case we are chased.”

“Do you have a car?” Rigel asked.

“Do I look rich? No, of course not. But I know some people in the slums. Well, I know a guy who knows a guy. He could get us what we need. I figured we could try that. We make our way through the rooftops for as long as we can and then back down to street level. I got some cash in my apartment for emergencies; we can grab that before leaving. Then we look for my guy and convince him to help us.”

“Convince him?”

“Or threaten him. Whatever works.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Rigel told him, relieved. “Lead the way.”

BARROW LED
Rigel through the rooftops, constantly looking down and expecting to see somebody pursuing them. When the tight-packed buildings started to rise more sparsely and with wider gaps between one and the next, they were forced to go down, out onto street level. Barrow quickly got his bearings and led Rigel straight ahead. There was no public transport in this part of the city, so they walked for nearly two hours before they got to the edge of the slums, where proper buildings ended and a seemingly endless expanse of improvised housing began. Then they paused and had a quick breakfast at a run-down diner before heading back out onto the street.

“Wow,” Rigel told him, walking beside Barrow. “I’ve never actually been this far north.”

“Not many city people do. No reason to come here, really, unless you want something illegal or have nowhere else to go.”

Barrow began to weave his way through the extremely narrow passageways between the boxy and irregular constructions that passed for houses in this area. Rigel followed close behind. Barrow didn’t know the entire zone, but he had accompanied the captain of the
Titania
many times to this particular section when Barrow had still worked for him. This had been a good place to find illegal, hard-to-come-by fuel whenever they’d had to make unscheduled trips to another Haven. It wasn’t exactly safe to shop in the slums’ Night Market, which was why Barrow had come acting as a bodyguard. At this time of day, though, Barrow did not expect any trouble unless he drew a lot of unnecessary attention to himself. He wanted to go to the tavern strip, a depressing alley full of pickpockets and worse where people like Streaker usually hung out. If anybody could get them an illegal vehicle for the desert, it would be him.

The streets were quiet. By then it was almost noon. Out here in the slums, people did not usually have air-conditioning in their shacks, but the tightly packed houses were built with overhanging roofs, so the streets and alleyways would be in perpetual shadow. The roofs themselves were covered with scavenged bits of highly reflective material, old ceramic tiles, or even discarded solar panels so the merciless sunlight was deflected and people didn’t roast to death during the day. As in the rest of Aurora, however, the real activity began after sunset. The Market farther inside only opened after dark, and the vast majority of the businesses were closed during the daytime.

“Steve?” Rigel said softly as they walked.

“Hm?”

“Someone’s following us.”

Barrow didn’t react outwardly, but he prepared himself for another fight. He hoped it was only a random crook hoping to jump them and get some easy money. If it was somebody more dangerous, it would be a really bad idea to start a big gunfight in here. The people in the slums were extremely poor, but they were also a tightly knit community that did not react well to disturbances from the outside.

“Steve?” Rigel repeated.

“I heard you the first time,” Barrow snapped. “Just keep walking. We’re almost to the tavern strip.”

“Okay.”

They made a sharp turn left and came out onto a street that was slightly wider than the one they had been crossing. They avoided a large pile of garbage sitting by a corner and headed straight for The ’79, the tavern where Streaker usually hung out. It was one of the few places that did not close during the daytime, as Barrow knew from many years ago. They walked straight up to the place, and there Barrow stopped, apparently looking through the window to see if it was open. He used the murky reflection to check out their pursuer, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. It was just a teenager wearing a haphazard combination of what had to be previously discarded clothing, holding a large crowbar in both his hands. He sauntered onto the street trying to look threatening.

Rigel had seen him too.

“Steve! It’s that guy!”

He said that a little too loudly, and given that the street was rather quiet, it was hard for the teenager not to hear him. Well, too late to go into the tavern without making a scene. Barrow turned around and dropped all pretense that he did not know he was being followed.

The teenager grinned widely as he approached, evidently taking Rigel’s nervousness as a sign that they were easy prey. Barrow saw the guy’s eyes flicker to the side, and he guessed the teenager probably had other friends waiting to jump on them if they did put up a fight.

This would have to end quickly, then. Barrow did not want to kill anyone if he could help it, because the people here would not care that the teenager had been the one who started the aggression. All they would see was that Barrow had murdered one of their own, and if he did that, then his chances of either him or Rigel getting out from here alive were very slim.

Barrow took a step forward as the teenager stopped, moving his crowbar around in lazy circles.

To Barrow’s surprise, it was Rigel who spoke up first.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Rigel said.

“Well, neither do I, is the thing,” the teenager answered. “But you’re here, no? Not in your neighborhood.”

“We don’t have any money, if that’s what you want,” Rigel told him, sounding pretty convincing. “It’s not worth the trouble for either of us to go through this, so why don’t you get lost?”

Barrow saw the teen’s eyes moving from Rigel to him, evidently wondering why the bigger guy wasn’t saying anything. Barrow simply crossed his arms across his chest and waited. He had expected Rigel to be the kind of guy who ran away from confrontations because of his weak hands, but he was pleasantly surprised to see that Rigel could stand up for himself. Rigel and the teenager glared at each other, each sizing the other guy up. Barrow kept watch out of the corner of his eye for any additional kids who might try to jump them. He caught a flicker of motion twice, which confirmed his suspicions. They were coming closer, closing the trap.

“I don’t like your tone with me,” the teenager said. He hefted the crowbar more menacingly and stepped closer to Rigel. “You look like rich city folk. And I think you have plenty of money. That’s why you come here. Shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

Rigel took a step forward, and Barrow was pleased to see the teenager flinch a bit, expecting an attack. The kid was shorter than Rigel but a lot more heavily built. Rigel apparently didn’t care.

“Oh, really?” Rigel said in a cocky tone Barrow had not heard before. “What are you going to do about it?”

The two men stared at each other for another instant. Then the teenager attacked.

He swung the crowbar fast, but Rigel was ready for him. He deflected the blow with one of his braces. There was a clang of metal on metal, and then Rigel was coming in close before the kid could recover, swinging a kick that caught the teenager right in the balls. The kid squealed and dropped his weapon.

And then the rest of the gang was upon them.

It was only three more, and Barrow felt a little bad at having to punch them senseless. He dropped the gym bag with his supplements to free his hand and got to work. He got the first guy easily enough with kicks and was rounding on the second one when the last kid got behind him and tried to stab him with a knife. He missed, but Barrow got a cut on one arm, and after that he stopped feeling bad for the little criminals.

He was efficient, hitting only to incapacitate, and by the time he was done, a variety of improvised weapons were strewn over the dirty ground. The four members of the gang had grouped together against a wall, looking resentful but ready for another go. Barrow caught a glimpse of the desperation in their eyes, their hope that they would be able to get some money from the outsiders to escape the misery they lived in for a little while at least. Barrow knew exactly how that felt.

He sighed and drew his gun.

The effect was instantaneous. The kids scattered like rabbits, running away as fast as their legs could carry them and abandoning their weapons in their haste. One of them grabbed the bag Barrow had left behind and carried it away, sprinting down the alley. Barrow could have shot him, but he wasn’t going to kill a kid for a bunch of supplements, and there was no way to make him stop otherwise. Barrow put his gun away with an annoyed grunt and turned to find Rigel grinning at him.

“That was impressive,” Rigel said.

Barrow shrugged. “It was just a few kids.”

“Kids who had to be about my age,” Rigel argued. “Maybe just a bit younger. And, in case you didn’t notice, they would have probably beaten us to death just for our wallets.”

“Well, that’s true.”

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Rigel asked him, and there was just enough of a hint of admiration in his voice to make Barrow feel pleasantly flattered.

“I have some fighting training, from earlier.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re on my side. That was pretty cool to see, the way you beat them up so easily.”

“You didn’t do so bad yourself,” Barrow countered. “Got that kid by surprise with that kick. I didn’t think….”

“You didn’t think I could fight because of my condition?” Rigel asked him, although he was grinning.

“I didn’t say that!”

“No, but you were thinking it.”

“I—”

“Come on, big guy,” Rigel told him, walking to the tavern door. “This is where we’re meeting your contact, isn’t it? Let’s go inside.”

“Sure,” Barrow answered. He couldn’t help smiling.

Barrow pushed open the door and went in with Rigel behind. The inside of the tavern was stuffy and dark since there were no windows except those facing the street. There was a persistent smell of old booze and sweat that brought unpleasant memories to Barrow, and he looked around as soon as he was inside, hoping to spot Streaker quickly and spend as little time as he had to in the dingy place.

No luck. There were only three other men sitting at the bar, all of which turned around curiously to look at the two newcomers. Their gazes were unfocused and bloodshot. The bartender had been lazily watching television, and he, too, swiveled around in his chair. Barrow strode purposefully right up to the bar, ignoring the other patrons. He felt them shrink away from him slightly, which was good. If he showed even a little bit of hesitation, it wouldn’t be just kids coming after him next time. Up in the slums, appearance was everything.

“I need to see Streaker,” Barrow told the bartender.

Barrow saw the other man size him up, then look at Rigel and quickly dismiss the younger man as a possible threat. He focused all his attention on Barrow.

“Don’t know anyone by that name,” he said. He stuffed his left pinky into his ear, twisted, and brought it out again with a little pop. A disgusting gesture that Barrow remembered, even if he didn’t want to. He had a brief flashback of himself as a young kid, running errands for this jerk and getting scammed out of his pay when he came back. It was good that Barrow had changed so much from the scrawny teenager he had been. He doubted any of these people would ever match him to their memory of little Stevie, and it was just as good. If any of them did, Barrow would be forced to punch their face in.

“Of course you do,” Barrow told the man. Howard, he suddenly remembered. His name was Howard. “Tell me where he is.”

“Sorry, can’t help you,” Howard said, reaching casually under the bar with a smooth, practiced motion.

Barrow was ready. He caught Howard’s arm as it came back up holding a small revolver, twisted it sideways, and slammed the bartender’s hand down on the wooden bar, hard. Howard yelped, and everyone else jumped. Barrow heard Rigel stifle a cry of surprise behind him.

“Son of a bitch!” Howard cursed, his face screwed up in pain. “Let go, dammit!”

“The gun,” Barrow said calmly, tightening his grip on the other man’s forearm.

“Fuck you!” Howard snarled, but he let go. Barrow grabbed the revolver and took it in his other hand.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Barrow said clearly, pointing the gun at every guy in turn in case they got any ideas. “I just want to know where Streaker is. I know he comes here. You can either tell me now or tell me… later.” He clicked the safety off.