Chaos Space - Marianne de Pierres [107]
Jo-Jo and Catchut craned their necks to view the dangling vegetation that grew from the apex of the dome. Broad leaves floated gently on stems that were attached to a network of vines and creepers. The Wings hovered above them and occasionally dropped onto them like slowly settling dust.
‘But how do they move around once they’ve landed?’
‘They don’t,’ said the translated uuli voice. ‘They spend their time hovering and settling. When they wish to take off, the vibration of their wings creates momentum. The leaf bounces.’
‘They’re pretty vulnerable, then,’ observed Catchut.
The uulu knotted up again. ‘Don’t ever assume a transhuman is unprotected, no matter how delicate or vulnerable its corp is.’
A sinister sensation crept up the back of Jo-Jo’s neck, making the roots of his hair stiff. Despite the marvels around him, he wanted to hurry back to the biozoon and get the hell off Rho Junction.
Besides, the place was clogging up his airways. He glanced at Catchut whose expression remained bland and untroubled, though he noticed the mercenary’s hand was resting against his pocket. There were no weapon restrictions for those entering Rho Junction, although Jo-Jo knew that he would be searched before he entered the convocation chamber.
‘How much longer?’ he asked.
‘Longer,’ the uuli answered.
Jo-Jo tried to fix his mind on the speech he was about to give, but other thoughts intruded. He shouldn’t have agreed to this. He should have got off the Savvy at Jandowae with the rest of the refugees. And something else was really bothering him. Something Jasper Farr had said. ‘Prediction is one of its uses’ The lunatic had a sophisticated device that correlated huge amounts of information. If he wasn’t using it to predict outcomes, what was he using it for? And where the hell did he get the design for it? Even the most advanced spintronics hadn’t produced anything like Lasper Farr’s Dynamic System device.
The sinister sensation began to spread out across his body until his skin was crawling with unnamed fear.
THALES
‘You’re weeks late.’ Gutnee Paraburd’s contact had his privacy screen on, but even with voice distortion he sounded suspicious. ‘Figured Gutnee stiffed me on this one. You got the guarantee? ‘Cos if not, I got another buyer comin’ in soon. Mebbe I’ll use them anyways. I prefer reliable.’
Thales attempted to keep his face calm. The mercenary, Rast, had told him that they would run identity checks and reaction analysis—skin colour, pupil dilation—from the shortcast. If that checked out, he’d be given a meeting place and time.
‘If you get it right,’ Rast added.
The mercenary scared him: her stark white hair and the mouth that switched between maliciousness and laughter in an instant. Mira Fedor was at least the type of woman he could comprehend. Mira Fedor had manners and breeding.
He sighed. Not so Bethany.
She held his hand now, out of sight of the shortcast viewer, leaning against one of the many tubercles in the biozoon’s buccal. He’d never met a woman like her. Despite her toughness she seemed so willing to do things for him, to listen. The respect she gave him was intoxicating. She loved the way he spoke, and his ideas. And her lovemaking was so natural. It made him forget that her flesh had lost its tautness and that her hair was thin and lacking lustre.
Rene’s hair rippled like poured water.
He pushed away that memory and concentrated on the ‘cast. ‘I ran into some trouble travelling. I had to pick up an alternative route.’
‘What kinda trouble?’
Rast had prepared him for this. ‘There’s a rogue stationmaster hijacking cargo.’
‘Where and what name?’
‘Landhurst at Intel.’
‘You came through Intel?’
Thales regurgitated Rast’s ready-made story. ‘I got diverted there from Scolar station. Seems there are some problems on a planet in one of the outer systems. Refugees are choking the shift queues.’
‘How come your ‘zoon’s showing high traces of mercury?’
Thales resisted a panicked glance at Bethany. He tried to give the impression of bewilderment. ‘We had an encounter