the idealistic kid who cried in my arms the night before his first offworld mission, remember?’
He scowled but said nothing. He recalled very little of that. He had a glimpse of that night in his mind, just a few frames: Tia turning towards him; the curve of her breasts; a flick of hair; the solemn look on her face. Music playing: some echoing piano chords. That's all he had, repeating over and over. He said nothing. What could he say? He sipped his own drink.
‘Look, I know I’m asking a lot,’ she said. ‘Here’s my last shot. There is one thing I can offer in return for your help.’
‘Doubt it.’
‘I can give you revenge. A chance to get your own back on those responsible for what happened to you.’
‘And how you going to do that? Got the Basilisk who did it hidden somewhere on the Strip?’
‘I mean it, Mag. I can help you. Let you move on from this limbo you’re in.’
‘I’m not in limbo.’
She raised an eyebrow in calculated surprise and looked around the bar, all the serious, heads-down drinkers.
‘You sure about that?’
He watched as the zapped Martian struggled to wobbly legs and tottered out of the bar, not even looking back. As he left, three Solar System officers strode in. The drinkers made a show of paying them no attention. It wasn't unusual to see the Solar System police on the Strip. They had as much right to be there as anyone else. What they didn't have here were any special powers. That was the way it worked. They couldn't question, they couldn't punish. Or, if they tried, their suspect had just as much right to question and punish back.
These were looking for someone, two of them picking their way between the tables while the third guarded the door. Most of their tech wouldn’t function on the Strip so they were reduced to checking faces. Tia kept her head down, not looking at them. But then, so did just about everyone else. She was always one for getting mixed up in things, though. Causes. Politics . She had tried to drag him in too. He remembered that now, their arguments about him going off to the war. Misguided , that was about the politest word she’d used.
He caught the gaze of the officer in charge. The look Magnus shot him was quite clear, without the need for any tPath link. Leave my customers alone. Drink or go. The officer glanced at the mech then nodded to his men to move out.
Magnus sighed and looked back at Tia.
‘I’ll do what I can for you,’ he said. ‘But I can’t promise anything. And I will need to know who it is you’re trying to smuggle out.’
She stayed silent for a few moments, calculating, her eyes narrowed.
‘I can arrange a meeting. But … it could be dangerous.’
‘I can handle myself.’
‘It wasn’t you I was worried about.’
‘It’s someone I know?’
‘No, you’ve never met them. Even so, I need you to promise me you’ll take things easy.’
‘Always do these days.’
‘OK,’ she said. ‘Let’s walk.’
Magnus nodded to Donal, the ex-trooper he paid to staff the bar with him. A good man. Donal grinned at the sight of the two of them leaving together. As they walked towards the door, the mech stirred back into life and began to follow.
‘That thing coming with us?’ she asked, the amused grin back on her face.
‘Looks like it.’
‘It’s still bonded to you I see.’
‘Just tell me where we’re going.’
‘Port Twelve.’
The opposite side of the strip. Maybe a kilometre in either direction.
‘Let’s walk clockwise.’
They could have taken the rail or cut the corner with the flipchute but he liked to walk the circuit at least once a day. He’d been cooped up in the bar since morning. They set off together, the mech stamping along behind them. Tia pulled the cowl of her cloak over her head to hide her features. Like a lot of people did on the Strip.
It was crowded today. The Space Bar was in a prime position, half-way along the Twist, Marswards. Inhabitants of the station delighted in
He scowled but said nothing. He recalled very little of that. He had a glimpse of that night in his mind, just a few frames: Tia turning towards him; the curve of her breasts; a flick of hair; the solemn look on her face. Music playing: some echoing piano chords. That's all he had, repeating over and over. He said nothing. What could he say? He sipped his own drink.
‘Look, I know I’m asking a lot,’ she said. ‘Here’s my last shot. There is one thing I can offer in return for your help.’
‘Doubt it.’
‘I can give you revenge. A chance to get your own back on those responsible for what happened to you.’
‘And how you going to do that? Got the Basilisk who did it hidden somewhere on the Strip?’
‘I mean it, Mag. I can help you. Let you move on from this limbo you’re in.’
‘I’m not in limbo.’
She raised an eyebrow in calculated surprise and looked around the bar, all the serious, heads-down drinkers.
‘You sure about that?’
He watched as the zapped Martian struggled to wobbly legs and tottered out of the bar, not even looking back. As he left, three Solar System officers strode in. The drinkers made a show of paying them no attention. It wasn't unusual to see the Solar System police on the Strip. They had as much right to be there as anyone else. What they didn't have here were any special powers. That was the way it worked. They couldn't question, they couldn't punish. Or, if they tried, their suspect had just as much right to question and punish back.
These were looking for someone, two of them picking their way between the tables while the third guarded the door. Most of their tech wouldn’t function on the Strip so they were reduced to checking faces. Tia kept her head down, not looking at them. But then, so did just about everyone else. She was always one for getting mixed up in things, though. Causes. Politics . She had tried to drag him in too. He remembered that now, their arguments about him going off to the war. Misguided , that was about the politest word she’d used.
He caught the gaze of the officer in charge. The look Magnus shot him was quite clear, without the need for any tPath link. Leave my customers alone. Drink or go. The officer glanced at the mech then nodded to his men to move out.
Magnus sighed and looked back at Tia.
‘I’ll do what I can for you,’ he said. ‘But I can’t promise anything. And I will need to know who it is you’re trying to smuggle out.’
She stayed silent for a few moments, calculating, her eyes narrowed.
‘I can arrange a meeting. But … it could be dangerous.’
‘I can handle myself.’
‘It wasn’t you I was worried about.’
‘It’s someone I know?’
‘No, you’ve never met them. Even so, I need you to promise me you’ll take things easy.’
‘Always do these days.’
‘OK,’ she said. ‘Let’s walk.’
Magnus nodded to Donal, the ex-trooper he paid to staff the bar with him. A good man. Donal grinned at the sight of the two of them leaving together. As they walked towards the door, the mech stirred back into life and began to follow.
‘That thing coming with us?’ she asked, the amused grin back on her face.
‘Looks like it.’
‘It’s still bonded to you I see.’
‘Just tell me where we’re going.’
‘Port Twelve.’
The opposite side of the strip. Maybe a kilometre in either direction.
‘Let’s walk clockwise.’
They could have taken the rail or cut the corner with the flipchute but he liked to walk the circuit at least once a day. He’d been cooped up in the bar since morning. They set off together, the mech stamping along behind them. Tia pulled the cowl of her cloak over her head to hide her features. Like a lot of people did on the Strip.
It was crowded today. The Space Bar was in a prime position, half-way along the Twist, Marswards. Inhabitants of the station delighted in
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