I could see the economic temptation warring with his instinct to stay safe.
‘You’re a temptress, Oya.’
I gritted my teeth. ‘No, Minoj. I want to stay alive until I choose otherwise! Do we have a deal?’
A hint of sweat had appeared on his upper lip. Excitement? Fear?
He toggled back to the fake image. The hygienic version of his lips said, ‘Deal.’
Teece must have sprouted wings. He woke me from a restless doze, a few hours later, by banging on the door. I’d kipped on the mahogany table with my jacket for a pillow. My dreams had been filled with the smell of moist flesh and a rising dark tide.
‘Parrish. Let me in.’
I cleared my throat and rolled off the table. ‘You alone?’
‘Yes.’ He sounded terse.
I let him in and deadlocked the door again.
He looked around. ‘Where’s the furniture?’
I shrugged. ‘I couldn’t live with Jamon’s things. Besides, the ’goboys had stunk the place up badly.’
He threw a casual arm around my shoulder. A friendly hug.
But his touch was flint on my skin. I sparked inside like a fire rushing out from an enclosed space and began peeling my clothes off.
‘Hurry,’ I ordered him, breathless.
He slipped his jacket off and looked around. ‘Where do—?’
I tore impatiently at his tee-shirt, yanking it over his head. His chest was broad and hard. The sight of his flesh tipped me. I began to climax and took light breaths trying to stave it off. ‘Get on the table,’ I said. ‘Hurry.’
His face was mix of emotions. Tumed on and yet not.
‘Can’t we just start with this?’ He leaned forward to kiss me. His mouth was warm and wet, like me.
I didn’t kiss him back, shaking my head impatiently as he struggled out of his pants. He tossed them aside. I clung to him, naked and shivering at the cool air on my skin.
‘Your skin, it’s burning.’
I didn’t bother to answer. I barrelled him backwards and mounted him. Then I rode him into the table, my fingers clawing his chest in convulsive spasms.
When we’d finished - when my urge slid back under the oily surface of my control - I saw the marks and the blood. I’d scratched him before. But not like this.
‘Teece.’ I whispered hoarsely. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He tried to grin but it didn’t quite come off because his faded blue eyes grieved. ‘I don’t care about the blood, Parrish. I care about what will happen when I’m not here. You’re vulnerable when you’re like that. And out of control. It turns me on. And it scares the jees out of me.’
I lay on his blood-slicked chest, my face close to his. ‘Me too, Teece. Me too.’
We cleaned ourselves up and went down to Hein’s for a drink and food. Larry’s menu was limited but usually safe to eat, and for once money wasn’t an issue. Larry’s self-satisfied grin meant he’d already checked his account.
I ducked away from Teece while he was eating. ‘News?’
Larry shook his head.
‘Try harder.’
I ignored Teece’s curious glance and settled back in the booth at the south end of the bar, the one that gave us the best view. I remembered how Larry’s kitchen smells had driven me crazy with hunger in the past and sent me scuttling home to my room for an indigestible protein-sub.
We’d both chosen imported meat and rice, steering well away from anything green. Vegetables grown in Tert soil tended to be venomous.
The food was satisfying and the beer took the edge off my impatience.
Teece was feeling good as well, legs apart and relaxed. He fingered his scratched chest gently where streaks of blood seeped through his shirt. ‘Maybe you coming back here wasn’t such a bad thing. Where else can I get free food and drink, an attentive waiter, and the company of the most out-of-control woman?’
I laughed. He was right about one thing. Larry was treating us like royalty. And so were some of the patrons. The whole bar had a different feel to it than a few hours earlier, cautious but lighter somehow.
I struggled to identify the mood, like a forgotten face or name. It came to me after my fifth tube of beer, in that small window of inebriation that I still possessed before the parasite kicked in and sobered me back to reality.
Optimism!
A warm tingle spread through me at the idea. In the last few years my life had been a matter of daily survival. Before that I’d been a kid, a child with a hands-on stepdad and a sadly addicted mother. For the first time in my life, desires and possibilities began to coalesce into something that wasn’t crusted with semen or clotted with blood or rendered meaningless by hunger.
Perhaps I could make this place - my territory - safer for some to live in? Would that be so impossible?
‘Plessis?’
My agreeable daydream transformed into a sweaty scud with three arms and a body shell blocking my view of the bar. Two of the arms were flesh and held knives; the other was pneumatic and panned a firestormer across the rest of the bar.
Hein’s patrons knew all about firestormers. Nobody moved to help. Nobody breathed. Especially Larry.
‘Walk with me.’
Bounty. I wasn’t going to anywhere with Bounty.
‘You must want some other girl, in some other bar,’ I replied.
Beside me Teece developed severe muscle spasm as the Bounty ran a knife down my cleavage.
‘You give a good copy of her then. Maybe I’ll take you for the ride anyway.’
‘Where’s the ride going?’ I felt strangely calm. Curious, in fact.
‘I’m just working the delivery run.’ She jabbed the knife under my top rib. ‘Now move.’
Shite, how I loved it when they wanted me alive!
I slapped the blade sideways, ignoring the sting as it sliced my skin. Teece grabbed her other fist between both hands bending her wrist backwards towards her throat. It gave me time to kick her so hard in the crutch that I felt her pubic bones separate.
As she collapsed the firestormer dropped its load, melting a section of the slops tray and slagging several bar taps.
Teece got to it and pulled the charger before it cremated anyone living. I got to her . . . and shoved both Lugers in her mouth.
‘Who sent you?’ I still sounded calm. Too calm. Calm enough to slide the pistols back to let her answer.
She licked her dry lips. ‘Hey. It’s just for cred. You dig. I got no names.’
‘Where then?’
She took a moment to consider which loss would be greater. This job or her long-term earning capacity.
‘Delivery was to be south of Tower Town. I got a compass bearing. That’s all.’
One thing you can guarantee with Bounty is their common sense - none of this dying-for-your-job crap.
I retracted the pistols to a less threatening distance. ‘Take a holiday down the coast. Wait ’til this is sorted.’
Her expression was cautiously grateful. ‘S-sure. Thanks.’
She didn’t need to thank me. I wasn’t being nice. But I didn’t hold grudges against people on commission.
She climbed to her feet, unable to straighten up. ‘153.3 LONG. 28.6 LAT,’ she whispered.
I recorded the numbers carefully in my compass memory.
Teece handed her the toothless, melted weapon. ‘Get yourself a new piece while you’re down there.’
Chapter Five
I battled a vision while Larry settled things in the bar and Teece promised to pay him for new taps.
When things started to get grainy I gripped Teece’s shoulder.
Once outside, I let him steer me to the apartment and lock the door. By then, I was . . .
Swimming through blood, thick as mud. Warm, oozing blood-mud. A swell lifted me along, settling me gently on a beach. My limbs weighed heavily. I crawled forward, mouth closed, anxious to keep the taste out of my mouth.
When I surfaced back into Tert reality, I was on a foldout
bed in my new digs and Ibis was sitting at the foot of it.
‘Drink,’ I croaked. Then, ‘How long?’
His plump face creased into a relieved smile and he handed me a beaker. ‘That large boy gave you a sed while you were out to it. You’ve been sleeping a while.’
Sleeping? I didn’t have time for sleeping! ‘Any messages?’
‘A rather elegant man in lurex stopped by with some implements.’
‘What did he say?’
Ibis made a poor imitation of Larry’s sombre voice. ‘Tell ’er to be patient.’
Funny, Larry.
I sat up, scrubbed my face and gave him the once over. ‘Nice look.’
Ibis squirmed like he’d been dropped in a dumpster and was now hoping to shed his skin. There was nothing of his usual outrageous hip about the grubby fatigues and collarless tee he wore.
‘I was told if I didn’t put these clothes on he’d stuff me into them. I didn’t think he meant it would be fun,’ he complained.
I nodded. ‘That’s Teece. He’s right.’
‘Yes.’ He sighed heavily.
I reached out and squeezed his arm. ‘Thanks for coming.’
He shrugged. ‘I wish I could say it was a pleasure. But I don’t think it is.’ He added in a low voice, ‘Even Loyl never asked me to come here.’
Something must have showed in my face because he clucked his tongue and patted my hand. ‘It’s all right. Really. In fact I’ve always wanted to . . . er . . . visit.’
He made it sound like a holiday destination.
It was my turn to make clucking noises. ‘You should have waited for me to arrange escort. You could have been . . .’
A shudder ran through his plump body but I suspected it was for effect. Ibis had already proved his resourcefulness to me on several occasions. Still, this was my place now. He was my guest, here on my request. I wasn’t going to take any chances.
Shite. My own growing sense of responsibility made me sick.
‘From now on, you don’t go anywhere without Teece, or me, or some muscle.’
He smiled lasciviously. ‘Pat won’t like it at all.’ Pat was his lover.
I ran my hands through the stubble of my hair. ‘There’s something you should know, Ibis. ’Bout Teece.’
He threw his hands in the air. ‘Hands off? Darling, you don’t even have to say it.’ He made a sound like a punctured tyre.
I nodded sympathetically. ‘Yeah, I know. Sucks, doesn’t it?’
‘Now,’ he said, pulling a note compact from his pocket, ‘before you give me any more lines to do, let’s get on with this interior decorating.’
I spent a short time deluging him with ideas. What I wanted done; where we might get raw materials from; who would provide the labour and how we would keep the stuff safe from theft. Quality wood and clean plastic were at a premium in The Tert. Second only to food and drugs. In that race, food often ran second.
Ibis repeated things into his jotr as I talked, outlining my crazy dream to give the ferals a home.
‘They’re living in attics, Ibis. Like packed fish, sleeping amongst the dust and canrat shit. But they are organised. Committed to their survival as a group. They even manufacture their own bio-weapons with alchemy. Wombat knows who taught them that.’ I thumped my hand on the side of the bed, searching for the meaning I was trying to convey. ‘They care about each other . . . in a way the rest of us have forgotten.’
‘Who, my pet, is this Wombat?’
‘You pray to the Fashion Goddesses. I pray to Wombat,’ I said by way of short explanation.
The long explanation, as far as I knew, was funnier. Wom (corrupted to Wombat by some joker) was a nerdie-boy back twenty years who’d preached the beauty of post-humanism and the like.
He tried to upload himself into his microwave on prime time Common Net - got electrocuted instead. His ridiculous stunt raised him to iconic status. People short on deities and big on irony adopted him. These days he was more a kinda idiom, and praying to an idiom suited my chic. It was better than believing in a god who always passed on the hard stuff.
‘I can’t see the similarities,’ Ibis said, frowning.
I nearly smiled. ‘Main thing is, they need a home.’
Ibis glanced up from his scribbling. ‘You know, Parrish, you and Loyl share many of the same ideals—’
‘Stop!’ I jumped up, furious. ‘We share nothing! Community is one damn thing. Selective breeding is another. I don’t think my bloodlines are better than anyone else’s. I’m not prepared to use human beings as lab rats. Do you know what Daac has been doing?’
I bit off my tirade. Of course he knew.
Ibis sagged, upset by my attack and perhaps, I hoped, by guilt. I felt immediately contrite but had no idea how to make it up to the man. Kind words didn’t come easily to me.
And what the hell was I doing bringing him here anyway? One of Loyl’s oldest supporters and proclaimed member of his gens.
Because he’d been a friend to me when there was no one else. Because he’d risked his life for me when Daac had asked him to help. And because he could still laugh at himself.
Ibis had all the qualities I admired. All the qualities I couldn’t afford.
I breathed for calm. ‘I must be feeling better, eh?’ I laughed shakily and swung up off the narrow cot. ‘Let’s go take a proper look at the job.’
He returned a small, troubled smile.
I hoped I hadn’t just snuffed out one of the few, lit corners in my world of shadows.
Teece came with us to the barracks. So did an oversized Pet.
‘Gift from Larry Hein,’ said Teece when I raised an eyebrow. ‘Said to tell you he was useless as a servitor. Couldn’t take orders, always playing with his weapons. Thought maybe you could use him.’
I looked him over critically. Under the dirt his mek side seemed in good shape. Actuators powered by old DC motors. More degrees of freedom in his limbs than I had.
Pets came with different proportions of mek to bio. Some had mek limbs and normal bodies, others had virtually all mek with the remnants of a brain and a rudimentary set of internal organs. I couldn’t even begin to guess how some of them stayed alive, what they ate, where they peed from, whether they had sex. This one looked to be mainly bio with arms and legs of titanium. And a battered akubra stuck to his head.
His face was the problem. It was altogether too sweet.
‘What’s your name?’ I didn’t talk to Pets much. They made me uncomfortable.
‘Roo - same as the animal.’
‘You like weapons?’
He gave a sly grin. ‘They like me.’
I took in the tips of his mek digits and wondered what explosive devices or flick blades they hid. I could see the targeting hardware wired into his akubra and the line of the weapon compartments in his legs. My guess was the kid made my arsenal look like toy stuff.
But did he have any sense?
‘How do you afford that gear?’
‘Like I said. They like me. I can make a lot of this stuff. It seems sorta natural for me to do it. I worked with Ginnopolis fixing things, before the war. Sometimes he lets me upgrade and do maintenance.’
Ginnopolis? Minoj’s main competition in armaments. My eyes widened. Now that could be handy.
He went on, ‘And jus’ so you know. I’m not one for older grrls. If I work for you . . . it’s biz only.’
I opened my mouth. Shut it again. Opened it again and managed, ‘Don’t get in my way’ as I strode inside the barracks.
The entire building smelt like kennels. I swallowed nausea and stalked angrily through each room. Ibis pranced nervously one step behind, hand over his nose. Roo trailed along more slowly, while Teece waited outside eyeing the bystanders.
‘I-it has potential.’ Ibis’s teeth chattered as he surveyed the filth of the ’goboy’s communal living - a mess and dormitory-style bunkrooms that slept a hundred or more. Then there was the fight room. Used for cock-fights and settling dis
putes and sex and whatever else the doggie critters liked to do.
Another memory swelled like blood from a fresh wound. My initiation into Jamon’s bondage had been lurid and degrading. Stamped possession.
I used my meditation techniques to soften the feelings.
‘I want this room scoured and sanitised like it was a medi-lab. Then I want it turned into a rec room. These kids need some fun. No Sensil.’
I had a private war going with Sensil. My mum, Irene, was addicted to it. It had turned her into a body battery that my stepdad Kevin had pretty well used up. With Irene in neuro-endocrine bliss, he ate her food and spent her money. The perfect arrangement. The wasted and the waster.
‘That’s a stupid idea,’ Roo commented, idly pickmg through his hair.
I swivelled, ready to tear chunks from him. ‘What makes you the expert?’ I snarled.
‘Can’t stop Sensil. Everyone does it. E-V-R-E-E-W-ON. ’
He spelled the word to me like I was a child.
My face bent into an ugly shape. I had a nasty look when I put my mind to it.
Roo seemed unphased.
Suddenly I had an inkling of why Larry had sent him to me. Maybe I needed to hear an opinion from someone who didn’t care too much who I was.
I toned down my bitch impersonation. ‘So what’s your angle?’
‘You stop ’em they’ll find another way. I says you can do two things. Control how often they bung in.’
‘Impossible. Or?’
‘Find ’em something better to do.’
Ibis swallowed his chuckle.
I glared at him and then at Roo. The Pet looked innocent and slightly bored. He scratched his scalp under his hat.
‘Like what?’
He shrugged. ‘You’re the boss, aren’tya? You work it out.’
‘You want to call me boss? Then go wash your hair and meet me later,’ I snapped.
‘Sure, boss,’ he said and swaggered off.
Ibis followed me to the san.
‘One thing, Ibis. No frills. If it looks too schmick, I’ll need an army to keep the petits and the poachers out. And the kids will feel . . . awkward.’
Code Noir Page 4