The Golden Way (The Kestrel Chronicles Book 3)

by mikel evins

  “What, you never traded favors with sketchy individuals?”

  “There was Blind Hooks,” I said.

  “Yeah,” said Jaemon. “And Otis Sixteen.”

  “So you’re not really that shocked,” said Zang.

  “Yeah, not so much,” Jaemon said. “We going to see somebody you know well?”

  “Pretty well. A mech named Pearl.”

  “A criminal mech?” I said.

  “What,” Zang said, “You think your people are immune to corruption?”

  “No,” I admitted. “Otis Sixteen was a mech.”

  “But you thought he was special?”

  “Criminal enterprises were not on the training menu at my fab.”

  “Pearl seems to have figured them out anyway,” said Zang.

  “She must be very interesting,” I said.

  “You have no idea,” Zang said.

  18.

  “So this is the Ring,” Jaemon said.

  We stepped out of the transit station and looked up and down Southport Avenue. We were inside a self-contained space shaped like the inside of a bicycle tire. Overhead the Axis District crossed from Solomon’s interior to his exterior, dividing the sky.

  “Yep. That way is the rest of the city,” Zang said, pointing to our left. “The other way is the rest of the solar system.”

  “And in between...” Jaemon said, and stepped out into the street, following it with his gaze as it rose and looped into a narrow ribbon high over our heads.

  “You dizzy again?” said Zang.

  “Maybe a little,” said Jaemon happily.

  We stood in the base of the Ring, where a bicycle tire would meet the road. Its sidewalls rose on either side of us, tall bluffs of metalloceramic composite that high above us joined with Solomon’s hull. A bustling urban neighborhood ran along the Avenue, curling in the distance into an overhead spectacle, just like every other place in Solomon.

  “This one district seems bigger than the whole ship,” I said.

  “I know what you mean,” Zang said. “It’s nonsense, of course. But it looks that way somehow.”

  It was much smaller than Solomon’s main hull, obviously, yet it it seemed bigger. Perhaps it was a trick of perspective. The far side was closer. We could see it better and it gave us a better sense of scale. Before, when we stood in Biru Park outside the History Office, the Axis District was almost five kilometers away above our heads. From there the opposite side of Solomon was ten kilometers away, far enough to fade into a hazy abstraction.

  Inside the Ring, though, the far side was no more than two kilometers away and the Axis was less than one. We were seeing much smaller parts of Solomon, but they were closer and they looked bigger. We could sense the size and the weight of them. The Axis was a crystalline leviathan overhead, dotted with lights and structures, disappearing at either end behind the barrier of the Ring’s high walls.

  “It’s like its own world in here,” said Jaemon.

  “Yeah,” said Zang. “You can’t see the rest of the city. The walls are in the way. You know the rest of Solomon is out there, but all you can see is the Ring.”

  All kinds of people hurried to and fro around us as we drifted from the transit station and along the avenue. There were thousands of humans in all shapes and sizes and colors, gliding along, barely touching the ground. Gravity was slight because the Ring was close to the Axis. The locals moved expertly, so deft that they seemed to levitate. Visitors were clumsier—at least the ones who were used to more gravity.

  “Wow,” said Jaemon, his gaze wandering over the crowd. “It’s like Tithon Square in Bahroz.”

  “Maybe busier,” I said. “More people. And more kinds of people.”

  I saw so many types of mechs that they all began to blur together. There were scores of Avians. I couldn’t tell whether most of them were animals or people, but here and there I saw a few in conversation. Kenthians and other phytopes moved through the crowd, some of them sporting leafy crests or crowns of blossoms.

  The noise was loud, but not deafening. Thousands of voices murmured, punctuated by occasional shouts and barks, whirs, hums, clanks, and slams, and accompanied by the undifferentiated hiss and rumble of every crowd. It all echoed off the Ring’s high, blank walls, and off the complicated shapes of its long rows of buildings and side streets and alleys, the echoes hinting at spaces we couldn’t see.

  “This way,” said Zang, pushing forward into the crowd. We followed her past a disoriented egg-shaped mech who glyphed apologies.

  The alleys and side streets to either side of the Avenue joined into a maze that we could trace with our eyes overhead. Balconies and awnings lined the alleys, turning them into tunnels. People came and went through colorful doors, or flying out of their windows to land lightly on the street below. There were few vehicles and no cars, but many vendors with carts selling everything from snacks and recharges to gewgaws meant for tourists.

  Tourists were easy to spot. They bumped and sprawled and crashed together in the low gravity while locals danced sleek and unconcerned around them. Some giggled and grinned at one another sympathetically. Others clutched desperately at their friends or at benches and lampposts, faces white with terror and embarrassment.

  “How you doing?” Zang said to Jaemon. “Still dizzy?”

  “Not so much,” he said. “Just a little lightheaded.”

  “That’s the light gravity,” said Zang. “It’ll pass. You’ll find your feet soon enough.”

  “I know,” said Jaemon. “Just like when we return to Callisto. We have to get our ground legs again. Where we headed?”

  He grabbed at a lamppost and allowed his feet to drift down to the pavement. A squat round Downsider crashed into him with a squeak and a cry of, “Sorry!”, then tumbled along the street nearly bowling over a pair of tall, willowy Ganymedeans who were strolling easily. We watched him barrel along ahead of us hooting, “Sorry! Sorry!” like a fast Acidalia tug sounding its foghorn.

  “The Oyster’s a couple of blocks down,” Zang said. “See where the Avenue splits to go around a building?”

  She pointed.

  “Oyster?” said Jaemon.

  “Pearl’s pub,” Zang said. “It’s in the building that splits the Avenue.”

  “I get it,” I said. “Pearl, Oyster.”

  They stared at me.

  “An ocean animal?” I said. “Native to Earth?”

  They still stared.

  “Never mind,” I said.

  We worked our way gradually along two more blocks. The locals studiously ignored us. Other tourists passed us smiling in sympathy or staring blankly and clutching at each other.

  “Who lives here?” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Zang said. “Lots of people.”

  “Why do people choose the Ring as opposed to some other place to live?” I said.

  She considered.

  “A lot of reasons, I guess,” she said. “It’s not too expensive. It’s close to the docks, so it’s convenient if you do some kind of work there. It’s got pretty much anything you might need packed into a small space. And it’s got its own kind of character. Some people just plain like it here. I like it here. I used to keep an apartment here.”

  I nodded.

  “It reminds me of Bahroz,” I said. “The same kind of bustle. Chaotic, but purposeful at the same time.”

  “That’s a pretty good description,” Zang said. “Though I never saw much of Bahroz. Once or twice I went across the bridge from Jupiter House.”

  “We spent a lot of time there,” Jaemon said.

  “Yeah?”

  “A lot of our cases took us into the city in a, um, professional capacity.”

  Zang smirked at him.

  “Tough neighborhood, eh? So’s this.” She pointed at me. “You asked why would people live here. Well, that’s why some people wouldn’t.”

  I nodded.

  “Anyway, here’s the Oyster.”

  It was a rounded s
torefront that squatted in the middle of the Avenue. The street split in two and passed on either side of the building. Tracing the Avenue overhead, I could see other places where it split in the same way, passing on either side of a block, then rejoining at the other end.

  The Oyster occupied the bottom three floors of the building. It was faced in red brick. Tall rectangular windows looked out of it onto the street. The clear graphene of the windows was sectioned into small rectangles by wood-textured composite. I knew the style. It was made to resemble an ancient public house from some old Downside city.

  A bulky mech with heavy plating and a Guard glyph took up most of the doorway.

  “Hello, Cass,” said Zang.

  “Spacer Zang,” said the mech.

  “Third Recon,” said Jaemon, pointing at the mech’s glyph.

  The mech rotated his sensor array slowly.

  “What about it?” he said.

  “I served with the First,” Jaemon said. “Before I joined CIU.”

  “A copper, eh?” said Cass.

  “Yep.”

  “And a Fancy Firsty, too.”

  “Thicky Thirdy,” said Jaemon, grinning wide.

  “Kick your ass,” said Cass. “Two at a time.”

  “Scrub our floors, you mean,” said Jaemon. “Maybe make us breakfast. If we let you.”

  The huge mech stared menacingly. After a moment he laughed in a deep voice with metallic resonances.

  “What do you need, Zang?” he said.

  “Came to see Pearl,” she said. “She here?”

  “Up in back, like always. She says to come up. Stop by the bar and tell Jerry if you want anything.”

  “Thanks,” said Zang.

  The big mech moved aside and gestured us in.

  “Stay safe, Firsty,” he said. “Don’t get your ass shot off.”

  “You’d haul it away for me,” Jaemon said.

  “In your dreams.”

  “Do you know that mech?” I said, glancing back at him as we walked away.

  “Sure,” Jaemon said. “I mean, I never met him, but I know the Third.”

  “He belongs to a category of persons that you feel you know?” I said.

  Jaemon turned and stared at me.

  “You’re such a mech sometimes,” he said, shaking his head.

  19.

  Jerry was a thick-bodied human standing behind the long bar on the first floor of the Oyster. He nodded at us and said, “Get you something?”

  “We aren’t staying,” Zang said.

  Jerry shrugged.

  “Suit yourself,” he said.

  He wasn’t quite as tall as Jaemon but even thicker through the arms and body. He had caramel colored skin with a faint speckle on his cheeks. His eyes were deep bronze and his hair was copper-colored. He wore a black jacket and slacks and a dark green tunic. His hands were thick, with short fingers. They moved tumblers and bottles with striking speed and precision as people at the bar called for drinks.

  The Oyster wasn’t full, but groups of people were sprinkled along the bar and among the tables around the room. The walls were something dark and textured. The floor was covered with a deep maroon carpet that muffled the chatter and the clink of glasses. There was a brass rail along the base of the bar. Someone at a table caught sight of Zang and pointed discreetly. His companions craned around for a look.

  “Place is like a museum,” said Jaemon.

  “Pearl likes old things,” said Zang. “Old buildings. Old customs. Old people.”

  “Ancient artifacts?” said Jaemon.

  “I’m sure she’ll be interested,” said Zang.

  “Maybe we should have brought Oleh,” said Jaemon.

  “What for?”

  “He was born four thousand years ago,” said Jaemon. “Maybe she’d be more willing to help us.”

  “She’s sentimental,” said Zang. “Not softheaded. Come on. She’s up in back.”

  She led us across the floor toward a wide staircase at the back of the room. The staircase was almost superfluous in the low gravity. We glided up it, touching every third or fourth step.

  Upstairs was another room like the one on the ground floor, but quieter and a little more brightly lit. No one was in the room except for a single mech at a table all the way in the back. She nodded at Zang as we mounted the steps.

  “How are you, Pearl?” said Zang as we approached the table.

  “Sit down, Zang,” said the mech. “All of you. Jerry didn’t get you nothing?”

  She was an earlier model from my own line, but more elaborately decorated. Her carapace and limbs were covered in an off-white pearl enamel. Her joints and fittings were polished white gold. I examined my own trim critically.

  “He tried to,” Zang said.

  Pearl tipped a chiding look at Zang.

  “You come into my bar and refuse my hospitality?”

  “Come on, Pearl,” said Zang, sliding into a chair. “You know it’s not like that.”

  “Course not,” said Pearl. “You love me, don’t you?”

  Zang chuckled.

  “I do like you,” she said. “That’s a fact.”

  “Good,” said Pearl. “I like you, too. Introduce your friends.”

  “This is Jaemon Rayleigh,” Zang said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “And this is Doctor Lev Chrysotile.”

  “What kind of doctor?” said Pearl.

  “Medical,” I said. “General field maintenance.”

  “Good fella to know,” said Pearl. “How you happen to know these two, Zang?”

  “I work with them,” said Zang.

  Pearl nodded.

  “Rayleigh, huh? You from Kestrel?”

  “You know her?” said Jaemon.

  “I been aboard,” said Pearl. “It’s been a while. Milos Rayleigh was captain back then. We had some good times.”

  “He was my father,” said Jaemon.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Pearl said automatically. “I thought you looked familiar. You look like him. Kestrel your ship now?”

  “My brother Esgar is captain.”

  “That’s right,” said Pearl. “I heard that.”

  “Did you?” said Jaemon. “Imagine that.”

  Pearl glyphed wry amusement.

  “I hear all kind of things in my little tavern.”

  “I’ll bet you do,” said Jaemon.

  “What can I do for you, Spacer Zang?” said Pearl.

  “We’re looking for information.”

  Pearl made a soft clucking noise.

  “Information’s hard to come by down here,” she said. “Lots of it around, but nobody wants to share.”

  “Maybe you heard we had an incident aboard Kestrel?” Zang said.

  “Incident?”

  Jaemon said, “Some guys in masks shot their way aboard and stole some cargo from us.”

  “Oh,” said Pearl. “That incident.”

  “So you have heard about it?” said Zang.

  “Honey, everybody this end of the Golden Way has heard about it. Hell, your robbers shut down half the south docks. My customers mostly want to knock their teeth in, they figure out who it was.”

  “And not much happens on the docks that you don’t hear about,” said Zang.

  “True.”

  “That’s why I came to you,” Zang said. “Well, that and because I like seeing you.”

  “You a tease,” Pearl said. “I know you don’t swing my way.”

  Zang flushed.

  “I just enjoy your company,” she said. “That’s all.”

  “Anybody would,” Pearl said. “What you want, really? I know you didn’t come down here just to tell me something everybody already knows.”

  “They stole something from us,” Zang said. “I was hoping you’d keep an ear out and tip us if you heard anything about it.”

  “Now why would I want to do something like that?” said Pearl.

  “Because we’re old friends?” said Zang.

  Pearl sn
orted a laugh.

  “Honey, I like you. But we ain’t friends. Pearl don’t do friends. Bad for business.”

  “Aw,” said Zang, disappointed.

  “No hard feelings,” Pearl said.

  “Maybe we could do you a favor some time,” Jaemon said.

  “What kind of favor do I need?” said Pearl.

  “Well, we still have Kestrel.”

  Pearl tipped her head slightly.

  “Do I hear an offer?” she said.

  “Maybe. Kestrel’s a torch.”

  “I know what Kestrel is,” Pearl said. “She’s a barnburner, and no mistake. You got something in mind?”

  “Maybe you might need fast transport some time,” said Jaemon. “Discreet transport.”

  Pearl looked at him.

  “On the level?” she said.

  “Sure,” said Jaemon. “You know Rayleigh’s reputation?”

  “Course I do, Honey.”

  “I wouldn’t want to mess it up by promising something I couldn’t deliver.”

  “On the level, then. Okay. Point-to-point? Anywhere I want?”

  “Probably not,” said Jaemon. “Point-to-point, sure, but timing and destination’s going to have to be reasonable.”

  “Fair enough. No questions asked?”

  “Well, some questions. Probably a few rules.”

  Pearl glyphed irritation.

  “You ain’t much of a salesman, Jaemon Rayleigh. What kind of rules?”

  “The usual stuff. Nothing living that doesn’t want to go. Nothing that puts Rayleigh at too much risk.”

  “How much risk is too much?”

  “That’s where you need to talk to Esgar. He’s the captain and he’s CEO of Rayleigh now.”

  Pearl nodded.

  “Fair enough. I expect we can do business. I hear something, I’ll ping you.”

  “Just like that?” said Zang.

  “Just like that,” said Pearl.

  “Okay, then,” said Jaemon. “You heard anything about it yet?”

  “Just what you told me. Oh, and I hear you got yourselves shot up pretty bad.”

  “Yeah,” said Jaemon. “We did.”

  “So take a few minutes to unwind. Let Jerry bring you something. He’s making jambalaya today. And he’s got some kind of meat in the smoker.”