Souls Touched - Reasonable Rates, Page 2

  ***

  Smith reached the old town well before the misty Martian twilight settled over the plain. All the colors of red spread across the horizon, fading into palest pink high above. Phobos skittered across the star-speckled sky, followed closely by Deimos in their eternal race.

  Smith took a deep breath. He was unused to the air being so thick on the surface. Since his last visit the terraformers must have been busy, increasing atmospheric density by releasing oxygen molecules from the polar ice caps.

  He strode along busy streets, a towering figure in comparison to the willowy Venusians and the stumpy Martians, the sturdy Terrans and those odd joinings of two or four or more. He felt alien even from his own folk.

  But then he always had.

  A member of the Patrol stepped out of a doorway and paused, looking up and down the street. Smith froze.

  Then he smiled, that crooked smile that lifted one side of his thin mouth. He hadn't had reason to be wary of the Patrol for years now, not since he had made his claim on one of the asteroids and retired from the smuggling business. Patrollers held no fear for him now. Nothing held fear for N.W. Smith.

  Except for one thing. The thing he had come back here to find, here where he had first met it, years ago.

  Years and years and years ago.

  The Patroller nodded as Smith paused before him. A slender youngster, his blazing red hair and pale freckled skin marking him as second-generation Mars born.

  "Afternoon, sir," said the Patroller.

  "Afternoon," agreed Smith as he eyed the boy warily. "I'm looking for—er—well, I don't just know what to call it," he concluded, motioning helplessly with his free hand.

  "Well, sir, if you'll pardon me, most people in this area are looking for a little fun," said the Patroller. "Why don't you try the casino down this street? Most honest one in Lakdrol, they say. Not that that means much around here. Or if you're up for a bit more," he paused, eyed Smith's form with polite disbelief, but continued, "there are some very clean houses two corners down, where the goods are certified disease-free."

  "Actually," admitted Smith, "I'm looking for something a little more…unusual." He swallowed through a throat gone dry. "When I was here back in—a while back, there were some townsfolk chasing a brown-skinned girl that they called, well—anyway, I'd heard that there might be another one around, but I don't know…called, uh…"

  Smith paused, not sure he was even able to say the name. Would it be any use, after all, to say it to this fair-skinned boy, with his shallow innocent empty eyes? He could never have seen one.

  "Oh, I get you," the young Patroller said with a wise look that sat in discomfort on his open face. "You might try the carnival on the outskirts of town."

  "Carnival?" asked Smith, even as he realized the boy was right. Trapped behind bars, the thing might be almost—endurable.

  Almost.