by Lynn Rae
Lazlo introduced himself and discovered that he was Del’s father, Nige Browen. The older man was about Del’s height and he stood as if his hip hurt. He looked Lazlo over with sharp gray eyes.
“What can I do for you, Citizen Casta?”
“He’s not just a citizen, Pa. He’s a lieutenant with port security,” Del broke in, either giving her father a heads-up about law enforcement or trying to needle Lazlo about his title. Probably both. She seemed to be an efficient person.
“Security, eh? Are you here about some crime or other, Lieutenant?”
“No sir, I’m here to speak with Citizen Browen.”
Nige Browen nodded and glanced at his daughter, who was scowling at him. “That’s fine then. Hey, Luti, are you done back there?” The young girl messing with the containers mumbled agreement and Nige Browen tapped the door of the transport. “All right then, Del, you’re ready to go. Lieutenant Casta, I’ll leave you to it.” Then he turned and left, favoring his left leg as he disappeared between some stacked crates, Luti following him. Lazlo looked back at Del and saw her frown as she watched her father limp away.
“How was he injured?”
“Rock fall in the Outlands.” She sighed and studied him, her sharp gray eyes very similar to her father’s. “Why are you here? I said I would call you.”
“There is a bit of urgency with this project.” And I knew you had no intention of calling me.
“I have a bit of urgency of my own. I need to get to work now.”
“Doing what?” If he could keep her talking, he had a chance to work in something interesting enough to entice her to sign off and really look at the mission parameters. What that something could be was beyond him at the moment—Del was distracting him with her stare and general posture indicating she would be happy to start the vehicle and drive away.
“Picking up and dropping off. I have to collect bio-waste from restaurants and take it out to the pig farm and the composter.” Delphine was terse and distracted as she secured her display under the seat of the transport and then adjusted the straps on one of her boots.
“I could come along and help, then we could get started.”
“I haven’t agreed to work with you and I know I haven’t signed your confidentiality agreement yet.”
Lazlo realized she’d said “yet”, a slip that meant she was considering it. “Sign it now and you will have my help all day. I can explain everything as we go.” He tried to be charming. He wasn’t all that good at it—he usually approached people too honestly to charm them. But he really wanted Citizen Browen to work with him. The more time he spent with her, the more right it felt. She would be a good guide.
Delphine shook her head and glared up at the girders in the ceiling of the bay. Deep in the cavernous space, someone started pounding on some metal and yelled at someone named Reesi to watch out. There was a tremendous crash followed by laughter, which seemed to make her reach a decision. “Okay, I’ll sign and you can come with me and explain things. This place is an echoing madhouse crawling with people.”
“Thank you.” Lazlo hopped up into the cab of the transport and called up the agreement, which Del read through thoroughly, signed and handed back to him. She quickly backed the transport out of the bay and out the gates. She warned him to hold on as she accelerated toward the port entrance, slowing only to be waved through, and then they were back inside. The air was suddenly cooler and less humid and plenty of people and vehicles traveled along the Boulevard. She took a sudden turn into a side service corridor and he almost fell out.
“I told you to hold on. Scoot over here and stay on your seat.” She spared a glance at him. “I won’t contaminate you with anything.”
“I didn’t think you would,” Lazlo replied, inching closer to her on the bench and trying not to slide into her as she turned another corner to enter a narrow-access corridor. She was small and he was large and he didn’t want to crush her.
Del brought the cart to a halt and hopped out to knock on a plain gray door in the stone wall. As it squeaked on its hinges, a man in a smock opened the door with a smile and started to haul tubs of chopped-up, leafy-green odds and ends to the back of the transport. Del grabbed a few empty tubs and carried them to the door, then had the man sign off on her datpad. The tubs smelled slightly fermented and sloshed when she flung them up into the transporter’s bed. It all happened so quickly that Lazlo didn’t have time to get out and help. She was back in and driving before the man had even closed his door.
“That was quick.”
“No need to dawdle. Tell me about this project,” was her clipped reply. Delphine Browen was efficient and focused in a no-frills form. She actually reminded him of Major Sekar. A pretty, nonlethal Sekar.
“In the condensed version—someone, somewhere in the bureaucracy has discovered there are some old military items here on Sayre they want back. They contain some rare elements that we can’t get from AR-42 anymore and they need those materials for future equipment development.” He paused and looked at her as she drove along. She looked skeptical. That was a good sign—he was equally unsure of the idea. “These things are out in the Outlands and I need your help as a guide to find them. I have some general coordinates for three possible locations. Some old storage spaces, concealed and probably built as caches for war games.”
“So what you’re actually saying is that the military lost some weapons, wants them back to make new weapons and you need me to get you to some unknown location and back again with this salvage.”
He nodded. That was an accurate summary. She was smart as well as fast.
“What if I’m a pacifist and I think that lost weapons should stay lost?”
“Are you?”
Delphine grimaced and stopped the cart at another door. Off she went, knocking on the door, grabbing empty tubs, loading full tubs—this time mostly soupy tomato bits. Lazlo got off the cart and followed her around, unable to get ahead of her enough to actually help with anything.
“I’ll help you,” Lazlo offered again. “Just give me some warning so I can get out quick enough.”
Del nodded, intrigued enough by his proposal to want to speed up the collection so she could have some time to contemplate the issue. “Just do an equal exchange of the containers at the next one. You’ll probably mess up your nice clothes though.” She looked him over.
Lieutenant Lazlo Casta looked like he belonged in a professionally shot digima — digital image—for some recruiting push for security. He was neatly groomed, with perfectly tailored clothes, and was fit and glowing with good health and goodwill. It seemed as if the Congressional anthem should start to play whenever he smiled. She felt like a shabby little creature next to him.
Del started up the old transport again, hoping that the rewire would hold through the rest of the run. Her pa had warned her it had been temperamental and she certainly didn’t want to have a breakdown with Casta sitting next to her. He’d probably call in a mechanic, trying to be proper and helpful, and it would end up costing her a fortune her family couldn’t afford.
“So are you a pacifist?” he asked with genuine-sounding curiosity.
“In theory yes. But we don’t live in a theoretical world, do we?”
“No we don’t. What else would you like to know?”
“Why me?”
“Bara Kidd, with Information Services, recommended you and one other person.”
Del nodded. She knew who Citizen Kidd was. The information officer had helped her numerous times with finding old geology reports and bringing in reference works for her to study. “Who was the other person she recommended, or is that confidential?”
He smiled at her and she tried not to notice how nice he looked. Liking Lieutenant Casta wasn’t a good idea. Even contemplating helping him was probably not a good idea. And she always stuck with good ideas. But he was very nice and Dee Dee was right, he smelled good too. Although in comparison to tubs of discarded and just-beginning-to-ferment vegetables,
just about anything would smell good.
“Avo Kirk.”
“Oh yes. Avo.” Del nodded, not saying she thought bright and shiny Casta over there should stay away from Kirk and all his kin. They weren’t especially bad people, just more arrogant than untrustworthy. Avo would talk a good scenario, head out in the wrong direction, forget to take moisture pullers and end up stranded somewhere far distant. She had gone out twice in the last year to rescue the man, although he preferred to call it assistance. In all fairness she really couldn’t leave the lieutenant to the minimal expertise of Avo Kirk. Casta’s inevitable injuries and dehydration and lack of success would be on her conscience.
“You know him?”
“Oh yes.”
“And what do you think of him?”
“That would be confidential.”
“I’ll sign a nondisclosure agreement,” he joked with a wicked grin as she slowed at their next stop. Stop being cute, she wanted to warn him, but decided to be inscrutable and keep her mouth shut.
“Time to work. Grab some of those green canisters. We’re getting used cooking oil here.” She started the exchange with Citizen Beem at the bakery on the Boulevard and he asked if they could manage to take some extra containers of old stale baked goods. Del glanced at her transporter’s bed, looked over her list of stops to go and agreed, making a notation on the form. There would be just enough room.
Beem was so pleased to get more discards out of the back of his shop that he gave her a bag of cookies after she and Casta had loaded the last of the biologics on the vehicle. He promised that they were made fresh that very morning but Del didn’t really care. She’d eaten plenty of outdated food while growing up.
“What’s that?” The security officer pointed at the paper bag on the seat between them as they drove away.
“Cookies. But we don’t eat until we’re done. Our hands are dirty.”
“What kind of cookies?”
She looked over at him, struck by his good-natured interest. She’d never really thought someone in law enforcement would be so—well, nice. Harata’s henchmen were universally boorish and rude. They also tended to leer and grab. “I don’t know. I just thanked Beem. We have to keep moving.”
“Right.” Lazlo shifted on his seat a little as she turned down a more open avenue, which meant she had to slow down because there were more pedestrians and obstacles. Getting out earlier this morning would have been better, but she had been so tired last night that she’d slept in too late and now felt as if she would be playing catch-up all day.
“Can I take a peek?” the big man asked as one of his hands started to slide across the seat toward her. Toward the bag.
Del shrugged, trying not to smile and keeping her attention on the swerving pushcarts, weaving bots, wandering folk and stacked crates filling the corridor. Narrowly avoiding a slow-moving pedal car with enormous bundles of rough fabric tied to it, Del shook her head. It would be good to get back into another service corridor. She heard the bag rattle and glanced over as he closed it up. He was a big guy and probably hungry all the time.
“Well?”
“Pistachio. One of my favorites.”
“Mine too.” Del smiled with anticipation and glanced over at Casta to find him smiling. So he liked the same sort of cookies she did. That didn’t mean anything.
They slipped into the service alley on the Lower Boulevard and made many stops. There were a lot of quick counters in this neighborhood and soon the cart was nearly full. The lieutenant was a good worker. Once he knew what to do he was as fast as she was, but they still were falling behind since he liked to speak to everyone they encountered. She’d hoped to be done before lunchtime, but that was ever more unlikely the more he chatted with little old ladies about the best dishes they served at their restaurants.
“We’re full. Time to head outside and get rid of it all.”
The lieutenant nodded and settled in to his seat, bracing himself with large booted feet and one thick arm looped around the transport hang bar overhead. “Have you made a decision about the job yet?”
Del had but there was no reason to tell him now. He would be useful unloading all of this stuff once they reached the agricultural sections. He looked as strong as a new Cat-Mor hydraulic lifter.
“Not yet.”
“Any more questions?”
Del nodded as she drove up the incline to the northern gates and accelerated to the transport’s top speed once they exited the port and were out in the sunshine again. She took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the living air. “How long would this take and how much would I be paid?”
“I have no idea how long it would take. If you would like, you could pull over and let me drive so that you can look over the coordinates Citizen Kidd developed. You’d be the one who would know how hard the search might be.”
“Are you a good driver?”
“I’m certified on twelve different personal vehicles. Everything from a gaseous submersible to a twenty-person hovercraft.” The funny thing was Lazlo didn’t sound boastful. He sounded as if he genuinely wanted to reassure her that he was capable.
“This is just a broken-down, twenty-years-out-of-date cart with sticky brakes and no suspension. Do you have certification on one of these?”
“No. But I’ll figure it out.”
“Just don’t figure it out after you crash us into a wall.”
They switched places on the cart seat. Del opened up the documents and started to scan through the maps. Three possible locations—all in the southeast quadrant, the section she’d spent the least amount of time exploring, mostly due to its tough terrain. And the fact that her father had been injured out there five years ago and she’d spent the better part of a day dragging him out, frightened and exhausted.
There was more than enough good stuff to find in the more moderate cliffs and gullies of other parts of Sayre. She was no silly portie, wandering off by herself to certain danger.
“This is bad country,” Del mused, flicking through several more displays, each more formidable than the last. “Lots of tall cliffs with lots of hiding places. I’m not as familiar with the area because it’s too dangerous to explore alone. It’s so rough—it’s going to be hard to make a thorough search.”
“But you can do it?”
“Of course I can,” she replied absently, still concentrating on the information. “And Avo Kirk cannot. Not that I’m trying to run him down, he’s just not the man for this kind of thing. He’s more of a take-you-to-some-scenic-spots-to-pose-for-neat-digimas kind of guy.”
She looked up at an approaching intersection between two manioc fields and warned Casta to slow down and then turn left. They could smell the swine operation well before they saw it—low beige buildings in between an orchard of fig trees and a field full of sunflowers. There were two carts parked beside it, but no people were visible. Citizen Hoke, the owner, had put up trellises outside his buildings and they were filled with lush curtains of purple-flowered vines. Some sort of spice, she thought. In any case, they were beautiful.
Casta drove the cart around to the side of the largest building and Del hopped off to knock on yet another door. Parnell Hoke opened up quickly and the aroma of hog swept over them. Casta turned a bit green. The animals inside made a lot of noise—they knew what came in that door and they were excited. Parnell was excited too. He was already directing one of his workers to start unloading the vegetables.
“We have some extra bakery stuff. Do you want that today?”
“Sure, I’ll give it to the sows. They deserve a treat. Those piglets are insatiable.”
*
“I had no idea there was this much work involved in trash.”
“You probably put out your bin and it just disappears,” Delphine Browen responded with a nearly undetectable note of sarcasm.
“Right.” Lazlo never had thought much about it. Why would he when he was off doing adventuresome law enforcement things?
“There’s
always someone like us picking it up and doing something with it.”
“So what did we just do?”
“My family has contracts with different restaurants and markets to collect their unusable produce and waste oil. We pick it up at their doors and haul it away for a small fee. Usually pick up every other day. Then we take it to other places and sell it to someone who can use it. Like the waste cooking oil gets fired and refined by the synthboard manufacturers to use in their binding agents, I think. But all of the biologic material is valuable here because it contains the essential components of nutrition that we humans can use in our bodies. We have to cycle it through the system as much as possible.”
Lazlo watched Del Browen as she drove her dilapidated transport cart back toward the family business. They’d had a drink and washed their hands at a roadside well and were now eating the cookies, which happened to be delicious. He eyed the orchards as they passed them, thinking a piece of fresh fruit would be perfect. But of course, that would be theft and Lazlo couldn’t do that, no matter how much his subconscious clamored for it. His subconscious was also starting to warm up about something else, but that too would be wrong. Not for the first time, Lazlo wondered why so many of the things he desired were so hazardous—more cookies, purloined fruit, driving too fast, women.
“So you make money at both ends of the process.” Very smart business planning.
“We do if we keep the contracts. And it’s not that much money, in any case,” Delphine informed him with a dour expression. He could believe that—the margin had to be narrow.
“Have you made a decision about helping me?” Lazlo realized the entire morning had passed as he’d experienced firsthand the hard work that went on behind all the restaurants’ back doors. Maybe he should volunteer to take a few shifts as a delivery person and learn more about where all the edible food went.
Del frowned and kept watching the road. “This project isn’t attractive. It’s really rough terrain and there are only vague locations. Let’s not forget payment for me only if we find something, not for all my time and effort even if we come up short. You have to admit, there are a lot of reasons to say no.”