Warp World (20 page)

“I believe I would be glad to tell you about it.” He crouched down to lift his pack. “Let me know how the device turns out. And if anything useful can be extracted.”

“I will, I will.” She retrieved the triangle form its resting place. “It’s a matter of testing.” She walked to Seg’s side and fixed him with a significant look. “You see, when we believe something shows great promise, we put it through a number of tests. Not every object passes, but that doesn’t mean we don’t hope they will.” She smiled again. “Have courage, Theorist, some of us are hoping for your success.”

“I—” He stopped there, unprepared for words of support. “Thank you. That is meaningful.”

At Shyl’s nod, he headed for the door.

“Oh, Theorist,” Shyl called after him.

“Yes?”

“You’re wondering why an assistant of the Selectee for Acquired Technology and Research did not use the comm to alert me of your arrival.” She looked up at him, with a playful smile. “I value the opinion of my assistant. There are many who have never made it through my door solely because of Jinev’s first impression.”

“Another test?”

“They never end.” Shyl pushed her goggles back down on her face and went back to work.

Seg’s comm beeped yet again, the sound amplified in his small office at the Guild headquarters. His message backlog had climbed to two thousand, six hundred and two. The latest crisis concerned his finances—specifically, that he had none. As the payoff from the raid had not yet processed, he had handled everything on the basis of the generous advance paid out by House Haffset—triple the original negotiated advance of his contract.

Unfortunately, that advance had run out a week ago.

Were it only himself and Ama depending on his income, he could make do with his small Guild stipend. But he had men in need of food, supplies, and ongoing medical repairs. They needed real equipment, and weapons, too—as Fismar kept reminding him. Which was why he had spent almost five hours he didn’t have to spare wading through forms, answering questions, and biting his tongue while financiaries lorded their petty, temporary power over him to secure interim loans. One more complication he didn’t need.

He could have sought assistance from the Guild but that would have come with questions. He was weary of their questions.

At least there was a bright side—the Storm would not likely subside until after the loans were cleared, making travel to the warehouse impossible. Thus, he would be spared more requests for supplies from Fismar until he was actually able to afford them. One complication postponed.

In all likelihood, by tomorrow evening he would not have to hide from the various agencies seeking payment for ordered goods. Tonight, however, he had only one option.

He shut off the comm, severing all contact with the outside World, and dimmed the lights. It was better here than in his residence. He had lived in more crowded conditions as a child, and as an early cadet, but somehow the conditions had never bothered him then as they did now. Perhaps traveling to Ama’s world, with its obscene quantities of open space, had something to do with the feelings of suffocation he was experiencing. Or, more likely, it was the fact that two of the people who now shared his space had no familiarity with the protocols of living in such confined quarters.

Then again, Ama was not trying very hard to adapt.

He filed away the frustration. In five more hours he would face the Question again, and he needed to be prepared. He smirked at the film in front of him. As Shyl had essentially said, adversity revealed character. At this point, all he had left to show were his innards.

“I’ll show you,” he muttered.

In the sleeping quarters, the map of Cathind glowed as Ama reviewed it once more. She might not have been able to decipher the lessons on Seg’s digifilms, but she had paid close attention whenever he had used the map functions on the wallscreen. Distances, street names and icons for the autotrans stations—she could bring them all up with ease.

“How hard can it be?” she asked aloud, eyes on her destination.

But, even as she spoke, the small muscles in her stomach tensed at the memory of the black wall that had pounded against the shield near the warehouse.
I’m safe from the Storm inside the shield,
she reminded herself.

If Seg wouldn’t take her to the warehouse, she would take herself. Gods beneath the waves, she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life being led helplessly around his world.

Grafted caj, as she understood, could not travel freely. There was something in the graft that would set off alarms if they tried to move outside of their home. With no graft, there was nothing to stop her from walking the streets of this world as freely as any other citizen.

She raised a hand to her dathe.
Well, almost nothing.

If she wanted to pass as a Person, her dathe would be a problem. With a quick tug, she opened the recessed cupboard where Seg’s clothes were stored. She pulled out a long coat and slipped it on. When flipped up, the collar hid her neck, and she would keep her hair down just in case. She rolled up the sleeves, which were too long, and fastened the clasps.

“System reflective.” The wallscreen shimmered into a mirror.

She admired herself just long enough to ensure there was nothing about her appearance that could be seen as suspicious. “Perfect,” she said, with a smug grin.

She turned to the sleeping quarters door and paused for a minute. Was she really going to do this?

I’m an explorer; I’m going to explore.

With both Seg and Manatu gone, Lissil was in the common room, happily watching one of her inane vis-ents. Ama cast one look over her shoulder and then pressed her palm against the glowing pad to the main door.

She took a deep breath as she stepped outside on her own for the first time. She smiled, looked left, right, and then crossed the short distance to the curb. Even though it was night, there was ample light to navigate by.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Ama lurched at the sound of Lissil’s voice. She turned to see the Welf, arms crossed, lounging in the doorway.

“None of your business.”

“We’re not allowed outside, you know that.”

“I’m not caj, I can go where I want.”

“If that’s true,” Lissil said, “then fold down the collar of his coat. Show your gills.”

Ama’s gaze fell as she scrambled to think of a reply.

“That’s what I thought,” Lissil said. “Well, I did my part. I tried to stop you. He can’t fault me for that.” She examined her nails. “Enjoy your walk. Take all the time you want.”

“I will,” Ama said, but Lissil had already stepped back inside.

Ama didn’t move right away. She stared at the door, thought about the stifling closeness and solitude of those rooms, then turned to face the street, the open space, the unexplored possibilities. Seg thought she was behaving like a child? He thought she was incapable of looking after herself out here?

“I’ll show you.”

S
han kicked at a stray bottle someone had forgotten to deposit in a recycler chute. Or, more likely, the bottle’s owner had been too intoxicated to pay much mind to the First Virtue of a Citizen. The bottle skittered across the alley, startling a weg. The small, spiny-haired scavenger let out a hissing screech as it backed into a crack in a wall. “Karg you, too!” Shan fired back.

She pulled out her scrip-stick and clicked it on again. Perhaps in the ten minutes since she had left her new residence some financiary had accidentally deposited enough scrip in her account to pay for a respectable night out. She frowned as the display bar still showed orange. Barely enough for a low grade amba stick or a couple of glasses of rotgut at one of the Scar bars.

She could take the autotrans, at least, since it was free after hours, but right now walking was the only means she had to burn off her frustrations.

“Kargin’ Eraranat.” She stuffed the scrip-stick back in the pocket of her flight jacket.

The Storm-crazy bastard still hadn’t hired her. And Fis? He no longer answered her comms or returned her messages. She was good enough for them when the shit was hot and they needed someone to move their precious Outers back and forth in the middle of a raid, but now? When she needed help? So much for that whole
leave no one behind
crap the sand stompers liked to babble about.

“Left me behind, didn’t you?” she muttered as she exited the alley onto a street filled with off-duty revelers. And what about that plan Fis had told her about while not telling her anything. He didn’t honestly expect her to fly over Julewa Keep, did he? That was his brilliant plan to get her onboard—survey an armed fortress full of raving fanatics, while recording data and avoiding a shootdown? Solo?

“Kargin’ Fis.”

Worst of all, he had been right about her new home. If she wanted a hot meal, she had to fight for space in the communal food prep area, which was a filthy, claustrophobic prison. So much for the Civic Authority’s many promises to bring the undercity up to the same condition as above-ground residences. The privacy she’d longed for was no treat, either. Sure, she didn’t have to deal with the nasty looks and cheap comments from the rider crews and other pilots, but it got awfully quiet and lonely with only the wallscreen for company.

Well, to the Storm with Eraranat, Fis, the MRRC, and her dwindling scrip account; she was going out to have some fun if it killed her.

Ama grasped the bar running along the wall of the autotrans as the machine zoomed toward her first stop. It was all she could do to contain her grin. After two weeks locked in that box Seg called a home, the sensation was thrilling.

She had ridden in a private trans during her forays with Jarin and Gelad to the planning sessions for Seg’s raid. But those trips had been relatively sedate—once the shock of riding in a cartul that moved without a beast to pull it had worn off.

This autotrans moved at incredible speeds. Outside the window, all she could see was a blur of lights and she was glad that her stop was the last one on the route. Once she was in the Raider’s Quarter, it was a short walk to the tube where the slideway ran to Old Town. From there, she would have to walk a longer distance to the warehouse but she was confident she could find her way.