Mary Rosenblum (8 page)

It looked lovely, Ahni thought absently. She stretched her senses, searching for a hunter’s cold purpose, felt only the white noise of a crowded travel plaza–weariness, expectation, nausea in microG, and annoyance. The woman continued to gush compliments, hands clasped, her smile as bright as the ruby fiberlight inlay on her forehead, shaped to resemble a caste mark. Ahni studied her reflection briefly. The sari would confuse her pursuers briefly. She bought a scarf on the way out, pinned it into her hair, sloppily so that it drifted across her face. Waved away the shopkeeper’s clucking attempt to fix it. Many Moslem women wore decorative head scarves and it added to the distraction. The shopkeeper graciously packed her discarded singlesuit into a shopping bag with the shop’s logo prominently glowing in fiberlight script, handed it to her with a bow.

Leaving the woman reciting blessings on her health and future, Ahni proceeded down the corridor, senses alert, feeling less conspicuous. She passed a string of offices, a flower seller’s shop, a small tea and coffee bar featuring Turkish pastries, and exited into the main travel plaza, her senses alert.

Passengers emerged from an arriving climber, while others waited to board for the trip down, or purchased tickets from the many kiosk screens scattered at all levels about the room. Ahni made her way to the nearest screen, her body language hesitant and awkward, a tourist, unfamiliar in microG. She touched in her ticket purchase, using an anonymous cash card. She received her Economy Class ticket and struggled across the crowded plaza along the guiding handrails, pausing to bend over a small, wide-eyed child and smile, a doting auntie to any onlooker, a tourist on her way home from a first time in Near Earth, bringing souvenirs for those at home.

Ahni let hurrying families haul themselves along the handrails past her, scolding their playful children, slowing her down, getting in her way, leaving this timid auntie confused and blinking as the shimmering holo clocks blinked closer to departure time, a look of helplessness and mild dismay on her face. She hesitated, pretending to rearrange a fold of her sari. Almost time … A couple of hurryying latecomers scurried through the gate and entered the car.

Now.

Lifting her head, she pulled herself forward, ignoring the uniiformed attendant who pushed off to stop her. He raised his voice, his irritation hidden behind a polite face, thinking her deaf, or stupid and she gave him the confused, obedient expression he expected, used his instant relaxation to duck around him, grab the bar, and fire herself through the entry port. The closing doors hissed, halted, opened for her, then closed again, right in the face of the pursuing attendant.

He could stop the climber, hold up the trip, but that would afffect the schedule and she had a valid ticket.

She waved it in front of the scanner. Sure enough, the departure chime sounded and the car shivered.

Ahni grabbed on to one of the ranked handrails forming a semicircle around a vid window that would offer a stunning view as the climber ascended or descended. Now it allowed her to see into the travelplaza. A young couple waved. Ahni scanned the crowd and spotted the dogs immediately. One was the man who had darted her in the axle. The other was unfamiliar, an unselect northern chiinese.

They stared at the departing car, their faces revealing no emootion. She frowned, wondering what allied Li Zhen and her brother. The picture blinked, and now the window showed the diamond brilliance of a million distant suns and the dwindling crown of lights that was the Elevator platform. She turned away from the window and made her way to her seat, pulling herself along by the handholds along the rows of recliners. A single attendant cruised up–a downsider, she guessed from his body mass–and offered help.

She found her seat, a relatively luxurious recliner, she supposed, but not a welcoming prospect for the long drop. Especially since significant gravity would be a long time coming. They wouldn’t achieve 50

percent Earthnormal until they down-climbed to the 2,600 km leveL With a sigh, Ahni pulled herself into the seat and snugged herself to the cushions with the mesh netting provided. Coming up, she had traveled Business Class and her grief had disstracted her. Her smile twisted and she banished it, putting on the face of mild confusion that went with the sari and her act in the travel plaza. She was not about to underestimate her brother again.

She stowed her shopping bag in the bin below her. The seat sprang to life, elongating, cushioning her head, back, legs. It occcurred to her that it was probably made of the same stuff as Dane’s ship with its melting walls. Next to her, a lanky man with a unseelected celtic face hunched over a portable holodesk, his fingers flying among the cryptic icons. Orbital native, she guessed, assessing his lanky build and lack of muscle mass, a bit younger than her, maybe early twenties. A fiberlight inlay circled his wrist, emerald green, in an intricately woven pattern. He glanced her way, no hint of curiossity in his face, looked quickly away and back to his desk.

Ahni closed her eyes, at full awareness in spite of her relaxed posture, searching for any predator hint among the passengers.

What were Xai and Li Zhen up to? Leaving her senses alert so that she would notice any focused attention, she shifted into Pause. Methodically she sorted through her memories of her brother’s reecent activities … up to the moment of his apparent assassination. From this perspective, they reeked of stealth.

I do not really know my brother. The thought troubled her. A lot. It made her vulnerable.

SHE SPENT THE first twenty-four hours of the down-climb awake and aware, pulling herself around the Economy level of the climber, brushing up against passengers and crew, making eye contact whennever possible–the best, if most dangerous, way to startle a revelation from someone shielding their intentions. At the end of that time, exhausted, she decided that she was safe enough, unless one of the absent crew members tending to First Class or Business was in her brother’s pay.

She decided to assume not–that would be farsighted even for him–and finally dropped into Pause to induce sleep. She slept without waking for twelve solid hours. When she finally waked, she could discern a
down
, a slight sense of weight that slackened the mesh net holding her into the recliner. Gratefully she released it, yawning, wincing as her muscles protested the long slumber in the confines of the recliner. The minimal lights illuminating only the aisles between the recliners suggested that this was night, by local Earth time. Sure enough, the digital clock displaying Elevaator time told her it was three AM at its midocean base. She pulled her gaze away from the windows and stretched again, realized that the man sitting next to her was awake and surreptitiously glancing at her.

Adrenaline flushed into her blood and she came alert, feigning another relaxed yawn as she probed for any threat. Found only curiosity, a trace of hostility, and a hint of lust. That’s right. The platform natives didn’t look at people directly. She relaxed slowly, gave him a slight smile. “Insomnia?”

“Different time here.” He shrugged, the lust component of his attention sharpening. “I sure can’t imagine living down under all those clouds where you can’t see that view. No wonder downsiders are so shortsighted.”

”Not everyone is shortsighted,” she said mildly. “You can see the stars on Earth, you know.”

He waved that observation away. “The attendant was going to wake you up, tell you dinner was served.

I chased him off. You looked pretty beat when you conked out.”

“Thanks,” she said, checking a flash of irritation at his patronizzing manner. “I needed sleep more than dinner.” But now her stommach reminded her that except for the fruit Koi had handed her … how long ago? … she hadn’t eaten since her climb up here. Her stomach immediately contracted with hunger, so strongly that she stilled an urge to double over.

“I was just gonna flash our guy for food,” the orbital native said. “Can’t help it if they keep the wrong time on these things. Mostly downsider food, but they offer a few decent choices for snacks. You can call up the menu on your screen.”

She thanked him politely and touched the control that extended the small flatscreen mounted on her recliner arm. It unfurled and stiffened, and she selected refreshments from the screen menu. Thai and Japanese influences predominated. Lots of seafood. The food would be nuked for shelf-stable storage, not fresh. She passed on the sushi plate, selected tofu Pad Thai instead and a cup of seaweed salad.

Those items could take life as a shelf -stable package and still remain edible, she thought wryly.

When the food came, she noticed that her seat mate had chosen a grilled cheese sandwich-one of the few non-Asian offerings on the menu. He eyed the small golden longan fruit that accompanied it skeptically as he removed the cover.

“They’re good,” she said, and showed him how to peel one. “Dragon’s Eye,” she said. “Sort of like lychee, but better, I think. Which platform are you from?”

”NYUp. Good!” He sounded surprised, began to peel a second longan. “I wonder if they’ll have that where I’m going. Edinburgh,” he said, before she could ask. “My great-grandfather wants to see me before he dies and refuses to take the Elevator. But the old boy’s a hundred and forty two, so I figure I can climb down.” He laughed, made a face. “I’m his only male descendent. I guess the family runs to girls.

So he made a big fuss about meeting me once before he dies. Even sent the credit for the trip.” He shrugged. “Bad timing, it turns out, but who knows? The old boy thinks he won’t live much longer and I might never get down to Earth, otherwise. Might as well see what it’s like.”

That casual statement, his total dismissal of Earth, rather shocked her. No regret, no sense of moment . .

.
I might never get down to Earth
… No big deal. “Aren’t you excited?” she asked, curious.

“About Earth?” He took a big bite of his thick sandwich, made a face as he chewed and finally swallowed. “Cheese tastes weird. I don’t think I’m all that excited.” He tilted his head. “Yeah, I’m excited to see someplace new. Like I said, I’ve never been down the Elevators before. Costs a lot.” He tried another bite of sandwich. “But not because I’m going back to Earth or anything, if that’s what you mean,”

he said finally. “That’s something you downsiders don’t get. You always ask it.” He peeled another longan. “If we don’t miss the Earth, I mean. What’s to miss? Never been there, never really wanted much to go. You weigh a ton down there and you can’t see the stars.” He popped the sweet, white globe of fruit pulp into his mouth. “Wonder if we could grow this on NYUp?”

“Ask Dane,” Ahni said absently. It had never occurred to her that upsiders wouldn’t miss Earth.

”You know Dane?”

The change in his tone snapped her out of her reverie. “Yes,” she said cautiously.

“Cool.” His smile warmed a bit, and his edge of hostility vannished. “That’s really cool. How’d you meet him?”

Ahni ran potential answers through her mind. “I got to know him this trip,” she said. “His garden is quite a place.” She wasn’t reaching him. Thought about what Dane had said, about the fuuture, took a gamble.

“I’m pretty impressed with what he wants for the platform. I think he has the right idea.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Her companion’s face relaxed, and his smile was genuine this time. “He really sees pretty clear. Clearer than the heavyweights, that’s for sure.” He jerked his chin toward the floor. “We’re just a cash cow to them. That’s all. All that stuff about it not being safe to drop rocks down to Near Earth? That’s stupid. We’re a whole lot more vulnerable to crap upstairs than Earth is, and we make darn sure none of it hits us. We’re sure not gonna let it hit Earth. Hi.” He offered her a hand, as if they’d just met. “Name’s Noah.” He made a face. “Mom’s joke. Don’t ask”

“Ahni.” She gave him her real name because that’s the name Dane knew. “Could the platforms really survive on their own, withhout stuff coming up from Earth? The media made a big fuss about how it wasn’t possible.” And the World Council had solidly voted an independence discussion right off the floor, two years ago. China had been one of the strongest backers of that vote, along with the Taiwan Families, of course.

“Well, we could, but it would be really tight for awhile.” He was frowning. “We need a ten percent minimum expansion in populaation. Then we’ll have enough people to make a self-sufficient economy work, balancing producers and consumers, even if the tourist trade stops for awhile. Dane has been increasing the productivity of the garden so that we can eat, but life will be pretty spare. Until we really get flying.” He made a face. “That’s what the people worry about who aren’t behind it … they like their little downside treats I guess. But we can survive.” His eyes sparkled. “And pretty soon, we won’t even miss the stuff that comes up the climbers. We’ll do just as good.”

“I’m already impressed,” Ahni said, thinking of Dane’s garden. This is Dane’s religion, she thought. The future he sees for his strange children. And wondered how many orbital natives shared this particular religion. The downside politicians didn’t realize that this fervor existed up here.

And her brother? Connected? She shook her head. Too many questions and no real answers. “So what do you do in NYUp?” she asked, alert for his response to this question.

He shrugged, his emotional spectrum relaxed. “I do system traffic … keeping the Con moving. Takes a lot of people to keep it flowing. The Con is the constant chatter on the net,” he answered her blank look.

“The Conversation. Want to know what’s going on? Jump in and surf the threads. Everybody talks about everything all the time. Fun job though … but you gotta like code. You think on your feet, do some quick patches when things heat up, keeping the flow evened out so you don’t get a jam. But we only work one sixhour on, two off, so I got time to slack out. And I crunch some data for Dane. Keep him in the picture.”

Ahni nodded, projecting comprehension, although he had lost her.

“I just can’t handle the taste of this cheese.” He dropped the unneaten sandwich half onto the tray with the longan peels and covered it. “Feed it to the plants. Or whatever they do with the recycle here.” He slid it into the disposal port on his recliner and it vanished with a slight sucking sound. “You get to the axle free-park while vou were here?”