by Mick Farren
The rebel's expression made it clear that he was no exception. He glanced at the door. The fire fight was still going on. The rebel sat down.
'I heard that Orsine the mobster might bring in an army of mercenaries and set things to rights. You think that's true?'
Phaid snorted.
'It's bullshit. You're just looking for a big daddy to make it all better. Neither Orsine nor anyone like him is going to move into the city until the Day Oners and all the scum have worn themselves down to nothing.'
'They're going to take one hell of a lot of citizens along with them before they do that.'
'That's true, but that don't worry Orsine none. He'll sit tight in his mountain hideout and let somebody else do the dying.'
Phaid leaned back in his chair.
'Anyway, what's all this talk about Orsine? You want the mobs running the city?'
Streetlife set down his empty glass.
'I can think of worse things.'
Phaid noticed that his glass was also empty.
'Do we have to put on another show to get us our next drink?'
The rebel fumbled in his coat pocket.
'I'll get them if you like.'
Phaid leaned forward and twisted a smile on to his face.
'That's awfully good of you.'
'Yeah.'
While the rebel was paying the somewhat surprised bartender, another character scuttled into the bar. Although he wore an overlarge duster he was, in fact, little more than a boy. Once safely inside the place he shook himself, almost like a dog, as though shaking off the pointless mayhem of the street.
'I'm looking for Phaid the Gambler. I've got a message for him.'
Phaid looked up.
'I'm Phaid, what have you got for me?1
The kid held out a flat, sealed package.
'A guy gave me five tabs to find you and give you this.'
'He did, did he?'
Phaid stretched out his hand for the package, but the kid didn't let go of it.
'You're one hell of a guy to find. I've been following you all over town. You cover a shit load of ground.'
'Zig-zagging all the way.'
Phaid once again grasped for the package, but the kid moved it just out of his reach. Phaid raised an enquiring eyebrow.
'Are you trying to stick me up or something?'
'The guy who gave me the five said you'd give me another five when I gave you this here package.'
'That's what he said?'
The kid nodded.'Right.'
'Ain't you scared of me?'
'Why should I be. The city's lousy with killers, they're all full of shit. All I want is my five.'
Phaid laughed and looked at Streetlife.
'Give him five.'
Phaid grabbed the package and tore off the plastic wrapper. Inside was a folded sheet of parchment. Phaid turned it over a couple of times.
'Now what do we have here?'
He unfolded the parchment. The note written on it was short and to the point.
BE AT THE SIGN OF THE HANGING GODDESS IN THE WOSPAN BEFORE MIDNIGHT. WHAT YOU LEARN THERE WILL BE TO YOUR PROFIT.
It was signed with a tiny, delicate drawing of a butterfly. Phaid looked at the kid.
'Who did you say gave you this?'
The kid smirked.
'I didn't.'
Phaid grabbed him by the front of his oversized coat.
'Your smart mouth just stopped being amusing. I'm going to ask you once again. Who gave you this?'
'I don't know. He was just a guy.'
'What sort of guy.'
'A guy . . . you know . . . just like any other guy. I didn't look too close.'
Phaid let go of him.
'Yeah, okay. Just get out of here.'
'Sure thing.'
Phaid was thoughtful. He knew the butterfly signature was that of Roni-Vows. It was something of a surprise, he had assumed that the courtier was either dead or clean away from the Republic. There was also the mystery of why the note had been written on what looked like fine quality parchment. He passed it over to Streetlife.
'What do you make of this?'
Streetlife looked dubious.
'You know who wrote this?'
'I've got an idea.'
Phaid looked pointedly at the rebel who, at the moment, happened to be engrossed in his drink. Streetlife nodded to signify that he understood.
'Are you planning to go?'
Phaid thought about it. Then he made up his mind.
'Yeah, I think so. Nobody else has even offered us a profit for a week or more.'
'You want me to come with you?'
'Sure, if you want to.'
'I don't got anything better to do.'
Phaid and Streetlife sheltered in a doorway waiting for an outbreak of shooting to pass. Blaster fire had charred the surround and both men looked decidedly unhappy. 'Are you sure we're doing the right thing?' There was another all too close blast. Phaid ducked. 'Maybe. I don't know. Let's get out of there.' They made a disorganised dash for the nearest corner. By a near miracle nobody burned them down. Temporarily out of danger and considerably out of breath, they leaned against a wall wondering what to do next. 'You don't intend to walk to the Wospan, do you?' Phaid closed his eyes. His mind was still punchy from all the booze he had forced it to absorb over the previous week.
'I hadn't thought about it.'
Then think about it, I ain't using no walkway.'
'Me neither . . . So what do we do?'
A flipper was coming slowly down the block towards them. Streetlife suddenly grinned.
'Want to see a variation on an old trick?'
'Sure.'
'Okay then, just keep that fancy blaster handy.'
Streetlife stepped into the roadway waving his arms. At first it looked as though he was going to be run down. At the last minute, however, the flipper dipped to a halt. The passenger bubble popped open and an indignant driver stuck his head out.
'What the fuck do you think you're doing?'
'I'm commandeering your machine.'
'Like hell you are.'
'You'll save yourself a lot of trouble if you get out of that thing nice and easy. You can come by the Palace and pick it up. The committee will pay compensation.'
'Compensation?'
'Sure, anything you want, within reason.'
The driver shook his head.
'I don't know. Is this really important stuff? I mean, I'm on my way to see this girl and . . .'
'Important stuff! Of course it's important stuff! You think that I'd commandeer a man's flipper just because I want to go to the beer shop? My partner and I have just got the word on a gang of aristos over on the other side of town. We've got to get over there before they get away.'
The driver didn't seem convinced. Once again he shook his head.
'I don't know, I really don't know. I'd like to help but, like I told you . . .'
Streetlife cut him off with a loud sigh. He beckoned to Phaid who was still slouching against the wall with one hand on his blaster. At Streetlife's signal, Phaid straightened and started coming towards them. Streetlife put one hand on the driver's shoulder and with his other, pointed to the approaching Phaitl
'If you really don't want to co-operate, there is another way.'
After a week of living on alcohol and neglecting either to wash or shave, Phaid looked every inch the psycho killer. The driver's eyes swivelled from Phaid to Streetlife and back to Phaid again.
'Him?'
'Him.'
He started to clamber out of the flipper.
'I know my duty.'
'That's nice.'
'You say I can pick up the flipper at the Palace?'
'Along with your compensation money.'
'Thank you, thank you.'
He made a wide circle around Phaid as he scuttled away. He looked back once and then turned the corner and vanished in the direction from which Phaid and Streetlife had come. Phaid burst ou
t laughing.
'If that fire fight is still going on, the dumb bastard just walked straight into it.'
'He was on his way to see some girl. He seemed quite excited about it.'
'Screw him. Let's get going. It'll be dark soon and I'd rather be inside the Wospan after sunset than out in the open.'
They swung themselves into the flipper and Phaid slammed the bubble. Streetlife jammed the machine into drive and, chuckling at the idea of the poor sap owner turning up at the Palace and trying to reclaim it amidst the confusion, they sped off in the direction of the Wospan.
The trip was fairly uneventful. At one major intersection, Day Oners, Phaid wasn't sure which particular faction, had set up a roadblock, Streetlife gave the flipper full forward power and maximum lift. They managed to jump the barricade, but a fuse tube discharge cut a long gouge out of the bubble.
The Wospan was a great deal more subdued than the last time Phaid had been there. Contrary to the boasts of the inhabitants, the revolution had even made its mark on this stronghold of non-conformity. The crowds on the terraces and in the labyrinths and courtyards were sparser than they had been before the revolt. The people who were out and about were depressed and drab, as though some spark in them had been extinguished.
The only ones who did seem to be enjoying themselves were the armed Day Oners and squads from various other rebel factions who paraded through the previously peaceful colonnades with a bully-boy swagger, making themselves the targets for a hundred covert, hostile glances.
In the Wospan, the rebels made no pretence of being liberators. They acted like an occupying army. After their non-participation in the uprising, the rebels trusted the people of the Wospan only fractionally more than they trusted the aristos. It was this mere fraction that stopped the Day Oners clearing the whole area and razing it to the ground.
As it was, the gas flames on the terraces had been turned off. The people, on pain of summary arrest, no longer dressed as flamboyantly. Many of the cafes and taverns were closed and shuttered. It was as though the rebels had managed to kill the spirit of hedonism and turn the Wospan into a drearier, more furtive place. As Phaid and Streetlife drove higher up the multistructure of which the Hanging Goddess was a part, there was no improvement in the overall unhappy picture. Streetlife became increasingly more angry.
'Will you look at what these bastards have done? Will you just look at it? You want to know something? I'm disgusted. I'm so disgusted I figure I've lost just about any last shred of sympathy I had for this fucking revolution. They've gone too far, doing this to the Wospan. I'm really glad that I ripped them off for all that change. I wish I'd done worse.
The Hanging Goddess was a tavern set high up near the summit of one of the Wospan's man-made mountains. Streetlife continued to navigate the flipper up and up, through ramps and passages that seemed to have had all their life and colour forcibly erased.
Before the revolution, the Hanging Goddess had the reputation of being one of the city's most exclusive taverns, an ultra chic watering place for the rich and high born. Its upper salon, dubbed the Crystal Room, was a masterpiece in sculptured plexiglass. It afforded its patrons a breathtaking panoramic view of the city that could scarcely be rivalled.
The tavern occupied one side of a square courtyard. It was bounded by high walls on the other three. As the flipper nosed its way out of the tunnel that was the only means of access to the courtyard, its two passengers were presented with a grim twilight scene that was totally lacking in either gaiety or chic. A few people stood around the courtyard in the rapidly gathering dusk. They were swathed in dark cloaks and although they tried to put on some pretence that they were casual strollers, it was immediately clear that they were either guards or some sort of lookouts.
The tavern itself seemed almost totally devoid of light. The plexiglass panels had been covered over with heavy protective plates. Only a single small glow in one of the lowest floor windows indicated that there was any life in the place at all.
Streetlife halted the flipper, cut the power and let the machine sink to the cobbles. He made no attempt to open the bubble. The cloaked figures began slowly closing in on the flipper. An evening mist that was rapidly gathering gave the whole picture an edge of eerie menace.
Phaid's hand slid down to the pornographic butt of his blaster.
'I don't like this one little bit.'
Streetlife nodded.
'You got my vote on that.'
'The note said midnight. I guess we're kind of early.'
'Hours early.'
Streetlife looked around at the grey, ghostlike figures that were surrounding them. Strands of mist drifted past the outside of the bubble and he shivered.
'I can think of a million places that I'd rather be.'
Phaid carefully drew his blaster halfway out of its holster.
'You think maybe we should get out?'
'Do we have to?'
'We can't just sit here and watch the sunset.'
Streetlife was reluctant.
'Why don't we just call it a mistake and split, huh?'
Phaid slapped the bubble release.
'It's too late to go back.'
The bubble popped open.
'Slowly now. I think these people could be skittish.'
He stood up very carefully. He got the impression that the sight of a rebel coat didn't do anything to reassure the people in the cloaks. As gently as he could, he swung his leg over the side of the machine. One of the figures nearest to him drew something from under his or her cloak. It was a hand weapon with a long, tapering, wand-like barrel. Phaid realised that it was a pulse emitter. He had only seen one of them once before. In the right hands, they were uncannily accurate, but their rate of fire was so slow that they were only used for fully orchestrated, formal duels. Phaid leaned slowly towards Streetlife who hadn't moved yet.
'I think we're right in the middle of the aristocracy's last stand.'
Still doing his best to make no sudden or alarming moves, Phaid stepped down from the flipper. The emitter was pointed straight at his belly. Phaid smiled, but also let his hand dangle right beside his blaster.
'It gets chilly when the sun goes in.'
A man's voice came from the caped figure with the emitter in its hand. 'Who are you, and what do you want?'
Phaid continued to smile.
'I had an invitation, but I fear I'm a little early.'
'Invitation?'
'On parchment, no less.'
'Who are you?'
Phaid stopped smiling.
'Who wants to know?'
Tension cracked through the air. Phaid gently pushed his coat away from his blaster. Streetlife was starting to get out of the flipper, but he changed his mind and sat back down again.
'If you know what's good for you, you'll tell us who you are.'
Phaid half smiled. Streetlife had never seen him so reckless.
'If you know what's good for you, you'll ask me a little more politely.'
The emitter was still pointed straight at his gut, but Phaid seemed to be spoiling for a fight that he almost certainly couldn't win. Streetlife watched with mounting horror as his partner seemed to be steering the situation towards a brief and lethal confrontation. Then, just as it seemed that an eruption of violence was quite inevitable, a second grey cloaked figure, its face hidden inside a deep cowl, stepped between the two main protagonists.
'Phaid! For Lords' sake, stop being so damned stupid. You too, Trimble-Dun. Put that stupid duelling piece away and go and keep watch.'
It was a woman's voice, angry and scolding at men who had decided to behave like petulant children. Phaid's shoulders sagged and his hand relaxed away from his blaster.
'Edelline-Lan! What are you doing here?'
'Trying to get out of the city before your rebels hang me, or worse.'
'They're not my rebels.'
'We'll discuss that later.'
She looked around at the rest of the pe
ople surrounding the flipper.
'There'll be no more trouble here.' She turned back to Phaid. 'You'd better come inside before you cause any more grief. Those rebel coats make our people see red.'
'Hmm.'
Phaid jerked his thumb in the direction of Streetlife.
'What about him?'
Edelline-Lan lowered her voice.
'Why did you bring him? He's a rebel, isn't he?'
'No more than I am. He's my partner, and anyway, the message didn't say anything about coming alone.'
'But can he be trusted?'
'Can I be trusted?'
Edelline-Lan sighed as though there was no hope for Phaid.
'I suppose you'd better bring him inside.'
Phaid beckoned to Streetlife and waited for him to close up the flipper. Edelline-Lan was already walking towards the dark entrance of the Hanging Goddess. While she was out of earshot, Streetlife grabbed Phaid by the arm.
'What's going on here, partner? I don't like the look of any of this. I don't like it one little bit. Who are these spooks in the cloaks?'
'I was right first time. This is the courtiers' last stand.'
Streetlife's eyebrows shot up.
'Ain't this something of an abrupt switch of loyalties?'
'What loyalties? Besides, they haven't offered us a deal yet.'
'You think they will?'
'I don't see any other reason for getting us up here.'
They were almost at the entrance where Edelline-Lan was waiting for them, so both men let the conversation drop.
Phaid had never been inside the Hanging Goddess before, but he was well acquainted with its reputation for glitter and gaiety. Now, as he stepped through the door, he saw that glitter and gaiety had fled like spectres before the dawn. Chairs were stacked on tables, the heavier furniture was draped with dust sheets and the windows were boarded over.
The only light in the room came from a single glo-bar. It had been this, shining through a crack in the covered-over window, that Phaid had seen from the flipper when they first entered the courtyard outside. The light was set up on a table, four men and one woman sat around it. They were all armed, and they all seemed closed to exhaustion. Phaid immediately recognised Roni-Vows, even though the courtier was only a shadow of his former self. He was red eyed, unshaven and his hand shook as it raised a drink in mock salute.