by James Cox
Soft sounds behind informed Micah they were no longer alone. Flickering shadows ahead showed the space there filling. Micah took a quick breath and increased his pace again. It would not do for them to be trapped in the alleyway.
Five bangers awaited Micah and Ferrel in the intersection. They lazed and leaned back with no cares in the world. Not long after Micah and Ferrel emerged two more bangers plus their leader came out behind them. A quick glance showed Micah no occupied windows or security monitors.
“Well, my puckoes, what have we here?” The leader grinned as he advanced. The rest formed a circle around Micah and Ferrel.
“Meat,” said one banger, drawing several chuckles.
“Meat, aye,” said the leader, “What's on your mind, meat, coming in here?” He swaggered up to Micah. “You want something? Someone tell you you could score a scrape here?”
The man took Micah's stylus from his pocket.
“Expensive. You meats got money. Suppose you hand it over?”
“Suppose you let us go,” said Ferrel, not intimidated in the least.
“Sass meat!” said one of the bangers.
“You listen, meat,” said the leader, poking Micah in the chest, “You got two choices. You can leave here hurt a little or hurt a lot. Give up yer scrubby and we might go easy on you.”
Ferrel glanced at Micah and returned his grin.
Micah struck hard and fast. The leader slid bonelessly to the ground with breath a precious thing. Micah's lightning attack surprised the others, now Ferrel moved to attack one. Micah advanced on the biggest banger, dodged his punch and threw him into the one trying to sneak up behind him. Before they could untangle themselves Micah grabbed a handful of hair from each and cracked their heads together. Hard.
Ferrel had taken down one and now sparred with another. He had his back and side protected which left Micah free to have some fun. He stepped back, jumped forward and kicked hard at the two charging him. One blocked Micah's foot but the other took it and fell. The one who'd blocked Micah, obviously skilled at fighting, snapped a double-punch and kick. Micah blocked easily, reached in and tweaked the man's nose.
“Whoreson!”
Infuriated beyond belief Micah's foe moved in with a flurry of punches. Micah avoided them, kicked the wind out of another banger trying to flank him, then snapped his knuckles into the fist flying toward him. The man gurgled as at least two fingers broke but he held his position.
“I bet that hurts,” said Micah, “Let me help you out.”
Micah feinted against the injured hand, drew it out of line and punched straight and hard. The man collapsed to his knees and fell forward.
“Show-off,” said Ferrel, still struggling with his second.
The last banger standing glanced at his fallen comrades, then at Micah. He drew a knife and settled into an experienced fighter's crouch.
“That's hardly fair,” said Micah, advancing, “Don't I get one too?”
“RUT you, whoreson!”
With that advice the man attacked. He feinted craftily and hid his attack quite well. Micah still managed to dodge the first two stabs, block the third and cover a yawn as the fourth approached. With, apparently, all the time in the world Micah reached around the blade and grabbed the man's wrist in a painful nerve-grip. The banger gasped in pain as Micah removed the blade from his now-numb fingers. Still maintaining his lock, Micah reached forward and wiped the flat of the blade on both sides of the man's collar. Then he smiled.
“That's MISTER Whoreson to you, pucko!”
That was more than enough! The banger turned and bolted down one of the alleyways.
Micah looked at Ferrel. “Aren't you done yet?”
Ferrel moved in with a quick strike.
“Done.”
The leader, mostly breathing now, tried to scramble backward as Micah and Ferrel approached him.
“Well, meat,” said Micah, “How did you say we could leave? Hurt, I believe?”
The man cringed as Ferrel grabbed his hair and pulled him mostly to his feet.
“He said a little or a lot,” contributed Ferrel.
Fear brimmed in the eyes Micah stared into. Hard.
“I do believe we have a situation here,” said Micah.
Ferrel rolled his eyes, unseen by the banger. Micah pulled out a sheaf of currency.
“Is this what you wanted, meat?” Micah folded the bills one-handed into a thick roll and shoved it into the leader's mouth. “Now you listen with both ears, meat. I like a good scrap but business is business and fun is fun. You keep your eyes and ears here, pucko. If we show up again you may get a chance to earn some of this, yes?”
Ferrel loosened his grip. The leader plopped to the ground more from surprise than injury. He pulled the money out of his mouth and motioned aside the ones who'd recovered. Ferrel tossed a smaller sheaf at the man nursing his hand and glaring harshly at Micah.
“Doctor-bait, meat. You really shouldn't torque him off.”
***
Ferrel sniffed the air delicately. He and Micah now walked down a less-shabby thoroughfare.
“What,” whispered Micah.
“It's not soya...”
Micah sniffed. “What? I don't smell anything.”
“It's not multein...”
“What are you talking about?”
“It's ham! That's it for truth! Farm-raised and soya-fed!”
Micah ground his teeth.
“You could have left me one or two,” continued Ferrel, “They'll think I'm a siss now.”
“Flames! It was your plan. You wanted to make an impression. You wanted to get some backup.” Micah refrained from continuing when he saw the other's grin. “We did do that.”
“Slib,” said Ferrel, “For what use they are.”
“Covering the six,” said Micah, “Preemptively. We may need to start a riot. Or some back-up muscle. Hades, maybe just some warm bodies.”
Ferrel shrugged. “That's assuming either we need that here or that they can get out without pulling a platoon of Brethren. Not that I'm objecting. Just doubting.”
“They're resourceful,” said Micah, “Bangers usually are.”
Ferrel thought on this. “Five credits says you're wrong.”
“You're on!”
Chapter 11. The Seedy Side of Triumph
The Platinum Spoon, Unity's most raucous and almost only nightspot lay equidistant from the spaceport and Anathema's squalid center. Both its surroundings and its clientele were flashier and richer. Tourists made up the majority of the Spoon's inhabitants and their credits flowed freely.
Micah spared Ferrel a smug smile as they entered. By his theory Anathema existed only to separate tourists from their money. Ferrel had five credits on an alternate hypothesis.
After carefully ordering the least expensive drinks - they did have an image to maintain and security monitors abounded here - Micah and Ferrel wandered about the rooms. Some folk, obviously tourists, smiled and greeted them. They saw several others from the ship. Other folk, sly and furtive, obviously belonged on Unity. Micah tried not to laugh at the false facial hair and wigs he saw. Then Ferrel's smile turned smug; by his theory Anathema served a critical function for Unity's society. After a while they found what they wanted.
“Lucky, lucky, lucky!”
The crowd around Ionoski oooh'ed as the croupier pushed a pile of tokens across the table with a sickly smile.
Micah couldn't help a grin. Ted had dressed just shy of tasteless on the flamboyant side. Kidwell clung to his arm vacantly as he shoved a handful of tokens back onto the table. Rob McAnders, one of the college students from the ship, spied Micah and Ferrel and waved.
“Well hello there boys,” boomed Ionoski, “Finally get tired of those books? Glad you could make it. We're having a rightly party here!”
Micah mumbled his greetings as Ionoski won yet again.
“Hate to take your money, pal,” grinned Ionoski magnanimously, “Don't let my seat cool off.”
>
Ionoski stood and walked a few stiff steps.
“Back in a flash, lads and ladies,” said Ionoski. Then, visibly noticing Micah and Ferrel, he handed Kidwell a pair of bills. “Why'n'cha get them some real drinks, baby.” Then he slapped her backside playfully.
Kidwell giggled fluffily but Micah felt seeds of pity for Ionoski once they left the planet.
“That man is such a posh,” said McAnders.
“Double-plus,” added Sarah Deil, “But it's a nice posh.”
McAnders grinned infectiously at this. He and Deil both attended the University of Metropole on Spiral. She was working on her senior thesis over the break and he was along for the trip.
“I suppose,” said Micah, “I just hope we don't get into trouble.”
“Trouble,” said McAnders. He snapped his fingers. “That's for trouble. Michael, my friend, there is a lesson to be learned here.” McAnders was majoring in interstellar commerce and he would not let pass an opportunity to study on Unity. He and Deil both quickly took advantage of local library access. “Those high-nosed soggies outside these walls wouldn't dare lose this fine source of revenue!”
“Or social release,” added Deil, “That's something that cannot be contained! The harder you try to bottle it up the harder it's going to erupt.”
“Thank you,” said Ferrel sincerely. Deil echoed his theory!
Before McAnders could expound further Kidwell returned. She gave Micah a glass and Ferrel a glass and a sultry look. McAnders and Deil swapped grins.
“Hello Ricky,” simpered Kidwell, “It's nice to see you.” She followed this with a look hotter than her first one. “You know this might go better with some food.”
Ferrel smiled at her, nodded at Micah and took her arm.
“Now that is trouble,” said McAnders once Ferrel and Kidwell left, “Jonas may be nice but that's kinda pushing the limit.”
“Polarize,” said Deil, “They're just having some fun. If you, my so-scholarly friend, would do likewise you might just understand it.”
“As if,” said McAnders, “But speaking of fun, Mike...”
“Why Mikey, dear. How simply wonderful you're here. I had so thought this evening would be dreadfully dull.” Haffenstatler cuddled close to Micah and worked his arm around her. “That precious Meshella told me you were here! I am so very glad you made it.”
“It's good to see you too, Missy.” Micah offered a smile and silently vowed revenge on Kidwell.
“Have you eaten, Mikey? The restaurant here is simply stellar.”
“No. I haven't. Yet.”
Excusing himself to the others Micah offered Missy his arm.
***
“Out of the question!”
Micah let his face show a hint of hesitant defiance.
“But...”
“Unthinkable! You are here on sufferance. Do you wish it withdrawn?”
“No, sir, but...”
“Then that is your answer.” The librarian folded his arms and glared at Micah.
Micah gave Ferrel an appealing glance which Ferrel met with a resigned shrug.
“Sir,” asked Ferrel meekly, “may we access your library from the consulate?”
The librarian transferred his gaze to Ferrel who wilted at it. The man seemed ready to deny even this request but an almost-hidden glance at their shadows changed this.
“That might be arranged. Public information only.”
“Yes sir.”
“Your connection will be closely monitored. Any irregularities will have very unpleasant consequences.”
“Yes sir. I mean no sir! Nothing past what we've studied so far. Your economy is so fascinating...”
“As you have said before,” said the librarian quickly. He then visibly dismissed Micah and Ferrel.
Micah cast his eyes downward and bit back on a chuckle. Within a week of starting here both he and Ferrel had given this librarian in particular and several others in general ample reason to avoid them. They gave anyone with half a minute to listen a complex dissertation on their research and its importance to their project. He and Ferrel left the library nervously.
“On track four-by,” said Micah, “That was almost too easy.”
“Or not,” replied Ferrel with a smug smile, “They think they'll be able to burn the legation from my connection. Maybe if they were me they could. Ready for some exercise?”
“Double-plus!”
Kidwell gave Ferrel a load of information. Between the two of them she and Ionoski had most of a power chart for the Circle of Firsts. Amazingly enough Morr figured significantly. Now they needed subtlety and Ionoski and Kidwell, by the nature of their covers, could not manage it.
Dour Brethren of the Walkers in Light took biometrics on Micah and Ferrel. With a brusque admonition not to leave the League area the Brethren dismissed them. Entry into the legation itself posed no difficulty whatsoever.
“Can you tell me anything?”
After a small show of formality for his few visitors Ramsey led Micah and Ferrel to his office.
“Nothing past what we've reported already, sir,” said Micah, “That plus their librarians are very rude.”
Ramsey grinned at this.
“They're going to try to burn your net,” added Ferrel, “We'll be researching from here and they'll probably try a recursive backtrace on the primary connection. I think they're smart enough not to try a brute-force or hijack but you might watch for those too.”
Ramsey, with a more than passing knowledge of net security, nodded and made a note.
“Why will you be working from here,” asked Ramsey.
“Because they won't let us have an external communication channel,” replied Ferrel, “Not even proxied through here. That is absolutely vital to our project!”
“I see,” said Ramsey.
Micah scowled at Ferrel.
“Jonas wants us to do some sneaking of our own. We can't do that if we have half a dozen shadows ourselves.”
Ramsey smiled and nodded. “You do know the legation is under strict surveillance.”
“We're counting on it, sir. Especially the grounds between here and Anathema?”
“I doubt I could pass a microbe.”
Ramsey tried to keep the questions out of his eyes as Micah and Ferrel both burst out laughing.
***
Sweat rolled down Micah's face unnoticed as he crept slowly toward their target. Sensing his motion the mercury suit adjusted itself to its new surroundings. With a practiced sideways glance Micah could barely see Ferrel's outline but no one outside three meters could; unless, of course, they'd trained as extensively as had Micah.
The secret was not to move quickly. With its advanced holography and emission stealth technology the mercury suit could, in a matter of seconds, adjust its visible and thermal parameters to those of its environment. It did, however, take all of those few seconds. Moving too quickly confused its circuitry and caused it to flash in many spectacular and luminous colors.
“Steady, Charlie.”
“Hush! I saw you blur a minute ago!”
The hair-thin optical fiber connecting their helmets had taken a fair amount of traffic from Ferrel, who complained mostly about the heat.
“So would you rather be doing serious research?”
Ferrel didn't answer. He tweaked and programmed his Intelligence-sophisticated terminal to conduct their research autonomously. Ferrel observed it until the Unitites stopped trying to burn the connection. It functioned well within the parameters of a student randomly querying related information.
“Nah,” said Ferrel, “Too much like real work for me.”
Their objective, an access point into the starport's vast underground infrastructure, crept slowly closer. The hatchway Micah chose lay just behind the Brethren checkpoint and opposite from Anathema in relation to the legation. Once they arrived they'd survey it for possible future use. By Micah's plan they should reach the hatchway not long after nightfall. At first Ferrel la
ughed; by him they should be there in two or three hours. Micah insisted on slow and steady progress, though.
Once underground their plan depended on what they found. Despite his best efforts Ferrel found no technical details concerning starport security. Not that it mattered, save to assuage his curiosity. Micah felt he could handle the security they'd observed so far, never mind what Ferrel could do.
From there the plan was simple. They'd find a way out, secure it and assume Unity identities for use in the town itself. Ionoski would help as he could. He and Ryan arranged a very visible meeting with several Unity merchants; even as Micah and Ferrel inched away from the legation the staff would be drawing attention there. Micah saw some traffic between the checkpoint and the legation but no one came within seven meters of the mercuries.
“Primitive,” scoffed Ferrel, “They should be ashamed.”
Micah held his peace. They made the access point an hour and a half after full darkness. By now the party in the legation should be in full swing. Perhaps with a merchant or two led to indiscretion by Smit's strong drink. Micah felt uneasy about that but neither Kidwell nor Ionoski agreed with him. Ramsey could certainly mollify any offense and any incidents would only draw attention away from Micah and Ferrel.
Ferrel mumbled derisively to himself as he circumvented the monitors and alarms. He installed a diverter with a standard League key signature. The two of them had quite a few of the things and Ferrel planned to use as many as he could. When the hatch popped open Micah grabbed Ferrel's ankles and braced him. Ferrel slid inside and began scanning.
“Clear. Looks like that was all of it.”
Micah breathed a sigh of relief and lowered Ferrel the rest of the way in. The hatch led to a small underground chamber some five meters down. Micah closed the hatch and descended.
“Power down. I'm scanning for passives.”
The mercury instantly cooled several degrees when Micah deactivated it. He closed his eyes. Even though the chamber was pitch black Micah didn't relish losing what little night vision he had.
After several seconds Micah perceived a flash through his eyelids. It wouldn't be bright but brightness was relative. Any light-sensitive links would show enough electronic activity for Ferrel to detect.