Edge of Dark by Brenda Cooper Page A

started getting dark yet. The light had turned softer, and in turn softened the edges of buildings. It glowed faintly gold through the freshly growing leaves on a tree by the steps. A surprising contentment settled over her.
    She’d had a salad for dinner, and all of the parts of it were grown. Every one. The dressing had been made with real eggs from real chickens. It was possible to eat like that on the Deep, but not on her salary.
    She supposed she could do that now. She’d been avoiding thinking about it. Her mother wouldn’t have ever spent credit on such things, and Nona couldn’t imagine doing so. She’d hear Marcelle in her head telling her c redit is for the collective and for health and education and never, ever for showing off .
    She’d never been someplace where there wasn’t anyone she knew. She loved the anonymity of it, the freedom.
    Two women dressed in work clothes smiled at her. Five men walked up the street, laughing, almost certainly released from some job. Most of them looked as plain as Charlie, although once she spotted cat-eyes on a teenaged girl and an overly-tall woman walked by with long blue hair that nearly touched the ground in spite of the high heels she wore. A couple rode by on bicycles. There were some on the Deep, but they were in gyms and on tracks, and not . . . so complex. These had baskets in the front and back, and lights in both places, and the riders wore regular clothes. She was still focused on the bikes when she heard her name. She turned and spotted Charlie standing on a skimmer with a huge dog-like creature at his side. As she approached, he said, “This is Cricket. If you hire me, you also hire her.”
    Cricket regarded Nona with a controlled stare, nearly as still as a statue. Some of the richer people on the Deep had cats, and there was an aviary in one of the bars. Part of one food habitat she’d gone to visit as a child had real chickens. She’d heard about dogs, knew that some existed. That’s what this had to be. A very big version of a canine. She’d studied the animals on Lym during the trip here, and her brain raced through what she remembered. “Tongat?” she asked.
    A smile spread across his face. “Yes.”
    â€œWhat happened to her leg?”
    â€œSome idiot shot her and left her to die when she was a pup. I scared off a pack of predators and took her home.”
    â€œShe’s beautiful.” Nona reached a hand out toward her.
    â€œStop,” Charlie said.
    â€œI wasn’t going to hurt her.”
    â€œShe is the most dangerous animal you have ever been near.”
    Nona took a step back.
    â€œAnd you can’t ever forget that or remind her of it. Don’t act like prey around her. I’ll show you how to greet her later.”
    â€œWill she come with us tomorrow?”
    â€œYes,” he said. “But now, come around and get in. The sun isn’t going to wait for you and Cricket to get used to each other.”
    He helped her up and had her sit down next to him on a seat, careful to keep her as far away from Cricket as possible. “Hold on.”
    The machine accelerated fast. Certainly not faster than she was used to, but like the planet, it wasn’t enclosed. She had to put a hand up and hold her hair in a knot to keep it from whipping her face. They flew low, just above the buildings, which let her see the layout of the town. She noticed more animals. A few large ones that people rode, a few dogs that were far smaller than Cricket. She startled as a fat furry ball a little bigger than her closed fist jumped. A tharp, if she remembered right. A common part of the mammal food chain. They’d be plentiful here.
    He took her to the top of a hill not far from the town and parked, helping her climb down. “This is a good place.”
    Mountains rose up in the east, behind them, but he took her to two benches that faced the west, and the setting sun.