Fractions_ The First Half of the Fall Revolution - Ken MacLeod [166]
‘Aw, Cat, don’t say that. But I know what you’re saying, and—’ She clasped Cat’s hand. ‘I loved him, and I know you loved him.’
Cat took a deep breath through her nose and smiled. ‘Yes. And I’m sure you know how he thought. Last thing he’d’ve wanted would be for two of his old girlfriends to be crying in each other’s drinks about him. He loved life so much because he knew and believed so strongly that it’d go on without him. That’s how he responded to other people’s deaths: comrades, people he was close to. Mourn them and…go on. Don’t act as if they’re hanging around like ghosts, watching what you do and resenting you having a good time.’
Janis nodded. That sounded like Moh all right. She sighed, relaxing, and raised her glass. Cat nodded and raised hers, too, and they both drank, smiling at each other.
‘Well, Cat,’ Janis said, ‘what you been doing since the revolution?’
Cat was about to reply when some other guests crowded around the table and led her off. ‘Long story,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Catch you later, Janis.’
Janis stood up, saw her glass was empty and went to the bar. Once the glass had been filled the table was no longer vacant.
Jordan appeared again.
‘Hi, Janis,’ he said. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’
The woman he’d been talking to stepped forward and stopped just beside him. Janis took an instant liking to her. She had rough-cut red-brown hair and a sun-exposed, freckle-dusted face, and she was wearing as her only jewellery a blue enamel star pinned to the shoulder of her red silk shift. At the moment the expression on her frank, open face was one of frank, open reserve.
‘Janis, Sylvia,’ Jordan said. ‘Sylvia’s the first person I met in Norlonto. She actually pointed me towards this pub.’ He looked at Sylvia, apparently oblivious to how she felt. ‘I’d probably never have met you, or Cat, if it hadn’t been for her. Talk about chance, huh? The blind matchmaker.’ He grinned, then seemed to realize that the phrase had painful echoes. ‘Anyway, she’s in the space-movement militia.’
He waved a hand between them and turned away.
Sylvia leaned an elbow on the bar and ordered a beer.
‘Well, hi there, soldier,’ she said. ‘So how does it feel to be doing me out of a job?’
‘What?’ Janis stared at her, bewildered.
‘Don’t tell me you don’t know,’ Sylvia said. She raised her mug and said with heavy sarcasm, ‘Ladies and gentlemen: the Republic!’
‘Oh, Christ!’ Janis put her drink down on the bar and stared at it for a moment. She shook her head and looked up. ‘Believe me, Sylvia, I didn’t know. And I don’t agree with it.’
‘OK.’ Sylvia gave a guarded smile. ‘Are you free to talk about it?’
‘Sure.’ Sure.
‘Well,’ – Sylvia slid up on to a tall stool – ‘the militia’s been ordered to disband and merge with the army. We don’t like it, but all the movement leaders say we don’t have much choice. Any day now, the army’ – so that was what people called it now! – ‘is going to move in and enforce it. Put an end to Norlonto’s so-called anomalous status.’
‘But why?’ She knew why.
‘Officially, it’s because it’s a security risk, full of refugees and conspirators from the Free States.’
‘Hah!’ If she knew anything about Norlonto the objection was that its militias and defence agencies could maintain law and order, could stamp on any terrorism or other clear and present danger, and do it a lot more effectively than any occupying army.
‘Indeed,’ said Sylvia.