Kuseros, so she’s just that smart. I want
those smarts at my side, in my bed. Despite
the baggage she comes with. Despite our
recent tiff. She may not know it yet, but I’m
keeping her. My smart kitten.
Ma Quaak’s malevolent eyes follow each
movement. Kez keeps hold of the kukris as
she scoots back over to her friend. She
watches me almost as intensely as Ma
Quaak. “Ready,” she says.
“Door,” I tell her. I want her clear before
I begin to move. That’s the most dangerous
moment. When my attention’s divided
between holding the gun on Psycho Granny
and navigating the hallway. When Ma thinks
I’m far enough away that I won’t shoot her if
she goes for another weapon.
Kez nods and beats a fast retreat down
the hallway. I can’t hear the door over the
fucking fighting robots. I give it a slow count
of ten. The hallway isn’t that long, but she’s
dragging her friend. Time stretches. One
slow breath. Two. Longer than the minute I
stood in the hall, listening to the beautiful
girl getting fucked, listening to Kez trying not
to cry. They must be out by now.
I start moving, circling the couch towards
the door. Movement in the hallway brings me
up short.
Junior Pimp staggers through the
archway, wearing only a short tank, limp
dick dangling between his legs, holding the
back of his head. I bet he’s got a hell of a
headache.
I back up a step and keep the cannon
trained on Ma. “Go sit with your mother,” I
tell him.
He gapes like a fish, first at me, then at
the gun. He’s probably not a bad-looking kid
when he’s not gaping. His face has a certain
softness to it, though. No question who wears
the pants in the family, even when he has
some on. He raises his hand towards me. Ma
Quaak makes a strangled noise. “Skylar,
don’t be a fool,” she says.
Junior Pimp drops his hand to his side,
but stays standing in the archway, looking
dazed. The path to the door takes me directly
between the two of them.
“I don’t actually need the gun to kill
either of you,” I tell Ma.
“I believe you, son.” The gray curls bob
sharply. “I’ve seen your kind before.”
I give her a slow, feral smile. I bet she’s
seen a lot of predators. She probably ate a
few when she was younger. “Age’s a bitch,
ain’t it?”
“Comes to us all, son. Even you.”
“Yeah, but not today. So clear your boy
outta my way, or I will.”
“Skylar, move your ass,” she snaps.
Enough of our conversation finally penetrates
Junior’s Hex-and-concussion haze. He
weaves across the floor and collapses onto
the couch.
Path clear, I move towards the door.
Keep the cannon trained on Ma and Junior.
She watches me go without moving, but those
black eyes track my every move.
Just before I slide down the hallway, out
of sight, she says, “Son, there’ll come a day,
not so long now, when you’re not so fast
anymore. And on that day, someone’ll have
you. Thinka me then, boy. Thinka me.”
I doubt I’ll forget her any time soon. And
if I keep hanging around Kez, there’s not
going to be anywhere on this fucking planet I
can go without looking over my shoulder.
But I’m not going to let her see any of that.
I give her an evil grin. “Until then,” I say
and slide down the hallway.
I catch up with Kez and her friend in the
stairwell. Without a word, Kez and I trade
burdens. I sling Nev up into my arms,
wrapping the sheet around her. She rests her
head on my shoulder. She weighs less than
Kez. Way too little for someone so pregnant.
It’s tempting to run. To take the stairs two
at a time. Get the hell away from those
malevolent eyes and the bullseye I can feel
on my back. But if I drop Nev on the steep
stairs, the rescue will have been for nothing.
time.
I don’t linger, all the same. My boots ring
on the stairs. Loudly enough that I don’t
immediately register the girl speaking to me.
“ . . . I’m pretty?”
“What?” I ask, tilting my head towards
her to catch her words.
She strokes my chest. Her fingernails are
long. Shiny. Patterned and jeweled. I
remember Kez’s hands straining against the
headboard of my bed. Her fingernails were
bitten down to the quick.
I know which I’d rather have digging into
my back.
“We could party later,” Nev says. “If you
think I’m pretty?”
Her come-on is as forthright as Kez’s
was. But it leaves me cold. She’s beautiful,
without a doubt, but there’s nothing attractive
about her. Hex has destroyed her spirit, the
thing I want most in a woman. And I’ve
never been interested in another man’s
leavings. If I shift my hand a little, I could
probably find the wet spot on the sheet from
Junior’s come. If my nose wasn’t clogged
with that acrid green shit, I could smell him
on her. The idea of touching the skin he’s just
touched makes my balls shrivel.
“I’m with Kez,” I grunt.
“Oh.” She rolls her head on my shoulder.
“She won’t mind. We share everything.
She’s my best friend.”
Kez said the same thing. I hope she didn’t
mean it the same way.
“Have you known her a long time?” I ask,
to keep her diverted.
“Since we were kids. She’s my only real
family, Kezzy.”
Another orphan. Only her abandonment
issues are hanging out in the open for
everyone to see. “You’ll have your own
family soon.”
She nuzzles her face into my neck. “I
know. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Not if she keeps poisoning the kid with
Hex. I turn onto the landing for the first floor
and start down the final flight of stairs with a
sense of profound relief. The risk of
dropping her is becoming greater with every
step, and not because my arms are getting
tired. “Baby got a name?”
She giggles. “Sky, if it’s a boy. For his
daddy.”
Well, at least she knows whose it is.
“And if it’s a girl?”
Another high, sweet giggle. “Sky.”
Moron. I should have left her with him.
What does Kez see here worth saving?
“Great,” I growl.
A few steps ahead of me, Kez turns out of
the stairwell. I follow her at a trot. Careful
over the broken and pitted floor tiles
.
Through the hanging plaz and out into the
atrium where I can finally breathe a sigh of
relief. Kez seems to feel it, too, and takes off
at a sprint past the fountain. I haven’t really
seen her run. My breath catches. She glides
over the ground, long legs scissoring. It’s
effortless, the way she runs. Beautiful.
She hurdles the broken airlock. Even
carrying the plasma cannon, my kukris and
the money-bag, she seems to float in the air
for a moment before she lands and races
down the incline to the skimmer. Gig holds
open the skimmer door for her, but she
doesn’t climb in. She hands him the plasma
cannon and turns back. “Come on!” she
shouts.
I feel her urgency. We’re almost there,
almost out. I want to toss her friend over my
shoulder and bolt. But that would defeat the
purpose. I maintain my steady, ground-eating
pace. It takes longer than I want to cross the
atrium, duck through the airlock and skid
down the little hill, but at last I’m there,
handing Nev off to Kez and Gig. Taking back
my kukris and tucking them into my boots.
Finally feeling the memory of those black
eyes and the bullseye between my shoulder
blades fade.
Once Nev disappears into the dark maw
of the skimmer, Kez turns to me. “I should go
back with her. She’s going to be a mess
when she comes down.”
I nod. I’ll take a pass on the mess.
“Would you—” She hesitates.
“Would I what?” I catch one of her
dreads. Give it a gentle tug.
“Would you come back to the Warren
with us? I mean, it’s dinnertime. We all have
to eat—”
I consider it for a moment, decide I’m
okay with a little mess. It’s nothing I haven’t
seen before. And I might be able to persuade
Kez to leave some of the mess to someone
else. Get some rest. Or at least, spend some
time in bed.
“Yeah. And I’ll get dinner. But not
noodles. We’ll save that for another time.”
She gives me her full mischievous grin. I
wasn’t sure when I’d see it again. Didn’t
realize how much I missed it. “I was going to
get Makan,” she says. She snaps together her
viewie and scrolls to a picture of chopsticks.
“There’s a place down the street. We have a
standing order. What would you like?”
It’s not a cuisine I’ve tried. “Whatever
you’re having. Let’s talk while we’re
walking.” I cock a thumb towards the
habitable. “Ma Quaak might have another
plasma cannon lying around.”
Kez grins at the name, but nods. “Are you
okay following us?” She glances towards my
trike and a longing almost as strong as when
she asked for another ride in the Marie fills
her eyes.
Gig, so quiet that he’s gone unnoticed
during our conversation, suddenly says,
“You could ride with him.”
Kez and I both turn to look at him in
surprise.
Gig glances from Kez to me. Scratches
under his cap uncertainly. “In case he gets
lost.”
“Yeah.” I wink at the kid. “I don’t want
to get lost.”
Kez shakes her head, her expression wry.
She can probably tell that I’ve never been
lost in my life. “Are you sure you’ll be okay
with Nevie?”
“Sure,” Gig says. “She’s still high. She
won’t be a problem until she starts
crashing.”
“Okay.” Kez glances at my trike, and her
eyes light the way they did on my ship. “I’d
love to ride with you. If that’s okay.”
I offer her my hand and, when she takes
it, lead her to my trike.
Beauty. The wind in my face and on my
bare chest. The thrum of the powerful engine
between my legs. Total freedom. No guards.
No mission. Just the wind and the trike and
the road.
And the soft warmth of a kitten against
my back.
She presses her body against mine. Shifts
with me as I lean the trike into a turn. Totally
relaxed. Totally trusting. I can’t see her face,
but I’m sure it’s lit up with the same wide-
eyed delight that I saw during our flight over
Hemos. Thrill-seeking kitten.
My thrill-seeking kitten. I’m sure she’s
mine again. I don’t have to ask. Don’t have to
wait for her to offer herself to me again. She
wouldn’t have asked me to come home with
her if she didn’t want to be with me. She
wouldn’t press her body against mine if she
didn’t know what was coming as soon as
we’re alone. If she didn’t want it.
I grin into the wind.
She directs me to a tiny storefront in a
dirty alley a few blocks from her house. It
doesn’t even look open, but as soon as we
pull up, the opaque glaz shutter rises and a
man leans over a high counter. He hands two
plaz-wrapped bundles to Kez.
“Gimme your digit, Kez-zy,” he drawls,
holding out a print scanner. Kez presses her
thumb to it to verify whatever payment she’s
given him. The scanner beeps. “You’re
golden.”
“Thanks, Yag!” she calls as I gun the
trike’s engine and roar away, plaz flapping
in the wind. She laughs into my ear. “Now
that’s what I call take-out.”
Giddy kitten. I think she likes the trike.
I race through the side-streets, a trickier
proposition now that they’re filling with
evening traffic. But the trike is built for
maneuverability as well as speed, and it
weaves between skimmers and pedestrians
alike with fluid ease.
I pull up behind a familiar skimmer,
parked in front of the ramshackle building I
remember from this morning. Hand Kez off
the trike before I power down the neg cells. I
landed on my ass the first time I shut the trike
down. I don’t want anything bruising Kez’s
fine ass. Nothing but my palm.
I take the trike’s remote out of the control
panel, climb off and click the lock. The
protective cover unfolds and I secure the
locking pins through the wheels. Even if the
locals get excessively curious, the trike’s not
going anywhere.
Kez waits for me on the curb. I take one
of the bags from her and follow as she
climbs the steps to the front door of the
house. “Thought I was getting dinner,” I say.
“It was easier for me to pay. I have an
account. And I ordered for everyone.
Doesn’t seem fair to ask you to get
everyone’s dinner.”
Her sensitivity is sweet, but it does make
me wonder how many people I’m dining
with. The larger the grou
p, the more assholes
to be endured. I’ll put up with some level of
assholism for my one percent, but not
overwhelming amounts. “Who’s everyone?”
“You, me, Ape, Gig. Ape’s girlfriend,
Chiara. Duncan should be back from his run
by now. Nev might eat if she’s started
coming down. I got enough for everyone.”
Five other mouths to feed. Not an
inconsiderable number, particularly on what
she probably makes as a runner. A few
pieces click into place, like why she was so
desperate to complete the run. No matter
what the cost.
“This medicine your friend takes, what is
it?” I ask as she puts her hand on a touch
plate beside the house’s front door. At my
question, she hesitates and looks up at me.
“Naltrex? It’s a substitute for Hex. It
gives her a mild high and keeps her from
going into withdrawal, but it doesn’t hurt the
baby.”
“How long’s she been an addict?”
She sighs. “She started using when we
were kids. Fourteen. Fifteen. We were both
living at the House then. It was just the
occasional derm. At parties. Nothing
serious.” She bites her lip. “After I moved
out, she met Skylar. He got her using. Hex
and D, too.”
“She’s a death-head?” That surprises me.
Substance D-users are zombies, emaciated
from the acceleration the drug causes in their
metabolic rate, nearly mindless from the loss
of fatty acids in their brains. Nev’s an idiot,
but she’s not a zombie.
Kez shakes her head. “She got clean. Six
years ago. She kicked everything. She got a
job. She didn’t even touch alcohol for years.
She made us all into vegetarians for a while.
That was hard to hack, let me tell you.”
I smile. I bet. Kez strikes me as a girl
who likes her meat. “What happened?”
“I, um, I had an accident. I was out of it
for a long time. Nevie tried to hold things
together, but, I don’t know, I guess the
pressure was too much. She lost her job.
Started using. By the time I got out of the
tank, she was hooked again. She’s been
fighting it ever since. Nearly three years.
She’s okay for a while and then something
happens and she disappears. She goes back
to Skylar or one of her other dealers and it
starts all over.” She hangs her head. Takes
her hand off the door and rubs it over her
face. Without seeing her eyes, I can’t be sure
if she blames herself for her friend’s relapse,
but I’m guessing she does.