you let your lady friends
do the work for a few days.” He spoke with a gentle sarcasm
that may have masked envy.
“Word’s getting around about you, Mouse,”
benRabi said.
Mouse did not respond. He was in no mood for banter.
They beat an unescorted retreat, seeking their cabins like
wounded animals seeking the security of their dens. In the passage
outside benRabi’s cabin, Mouse asked, “What do we do
now, Moyshe?”
BenRabi shrugged. “I don’t know. I was hoping
you’d think of something. Go for the ride, I guess.
They’ve stalemated us.”
“Just for now.” Mouse stood a little taller.
“We’ve got a year. They can’t keep their guard up
forever, can they?”
“They probably can.” But a little false
encouragement felt good. “Still, you never know. Something
might turn up.”
“Look at that.”
The Sangaree lady was watching them from her doorway. She
smiled, waved.
“Gloating,” benRabi said.
“Think she knows what happened? Think she helped do us
in?”
BenRabi shrugged, looked at the woman. Their gazes seemed to
ring like meeting swords. Her smile broadened. “Yes.
I’m sure she did.”
----
----
Eight: 3047 AD
The Olden Days, The Broken
Wings
Hoping Marya would make no sense of the data before him, Niven
told her, “I’m checking to see where people go when
they leave The Broken Wings. If a statistically significant number
emigrate to certain worlds, we can begin to infer both their
fantasies under dome conditions and what it is that attracts them
to a particular type world. If it’s environmental, then
we’ve discovered a way to ease the negatives of dome
life.” He hoped he sounded tutorial. He cranked it up a notch
to be sure. “Ubichi specializes in negative environment,
high-yield exploitation operations. Employee turnover has become a
major problem because of the expense of training and transportation
for some of our field operations. It’s in the corporate
interest to reduce those costs by keeping our employees happy and
comfortable.”
Pretty glib
, he thought. He congratulated himself.
“What’re you doing here?”
“Looking for you. We had a date.”
“Not till . . . Holy Christ! Look at
the time. Hey beautiful lady, I’m sorry. I got on the track
of something. I worked right through lunch. Give me a minute, will
you? I’ll finish up, call my secretary, and we can get
moving.” He grinned. “I have to check in. Education
didn’t wear the Old Earth off of him. You wouldn’t
believe the hell he gave me last night!”
He no longer felt the smile. She was turning him to gelatin
again.
Mouse did not answer his buzz. Niven would have been surprised
had he done so. The call was simply a ploy to get the data out of
Marya’s sight, and to seize time to create a plausible
structure of lies atop those he had just told.
He needed no story. Marya asked no questions except, “What
do you want to do?”
He almost replied with the hard truth.
“I’ve had it with work, but we about covered
everything last night. Angel City isn’t swing-town.”
Gallantly, he added, “I’m content just being with you.
You pick.”
She laughed. “And they say there’s no romance left
on Old Earth. How about we just go for a walk? I feel like a good
long one.”
“Uh . . . ” His hands started
shaking.
He had gotten out young, but the lessons of an Old Earth’s
childhood died hard. People who did not learn them young also died
hard. Not to walk the streets without a gang of friends was one of
the strictest lessons of the motherworld.
This was not Old Earth. Death did not make the streets its home
here. But the sticktights did lurk there, and they might up the
ante in the game at any minute.
“How come you’re grinning?”
“That’s no grin, lady. That’s what they call a
rictus. Of fear. I’m Old Earther. You know how hard it would
be for me to walk down a street without at least fifty guys to back
me up?”
“I forgot. But there’s nothing to
do the work for a few days.” He spoke with a gentle sarcasm
that may have masked envy.
“Word’s getting around about you, Mouse,”
benRabi said.
Mouse did not respond. He was in no mood for banter.
They beat an unescorted retreat, seeking their cabins like
wounded animals seeking the security of their dens. In the passage
outside benRabi’s cabin, Mouse asked, “What do we do
now, Moyshe?”
BenRabi shrugged. “I don’t know. I was hoping
you’d think of something. Go for the ride, I guess.
They’ve stalemated us.”
“Just for now.” Mouse stood a little taller.
“We’ve got a year. They can’t keep their guard up
forever, can they?”
“They probably can.” But a little false
encouragement felt good. “Still, you never know. Something
might turn up.”
“Look at that.”
The Sangaree lady was watching them from her doorway. She
smiled, waved.
“Gloating,” benRabi said.
“Think she knows what happened? Think she helped do us
in?”
BenRabi shrugged, looked at the woman. Their gazes seemed to
ring like meeting swords. Her smile broadened. “Yes.
I’m sure she did.”
----
----
Eight: 3047 AD
The Olden Days, The Broken
Wings
Hoping Marya would make no sense of the data before him, Niven
told her, “I’m checking to see where people go when
they leave The Broken Wings. If a statistically significant number
emigrate to certain worlds, we can begin to infer both their
fantasies under dome conditions and what it is that attracts them
to a particular type world. If it’s environmental, then
we’ve discovered a way to ease the negatives of dome
life.” He hoped he sounded tutorial. He cranked it up a notch
to be sure. “Ubichi specializes in negative environment,
high-yield exploitation operations. Employee turnover has become a
major problem because of the expense of training and transportation
for some of our field operations. It’s in the corporate
interest to reduce those costs by keeping our employees happy and
comfortable.”
Pretty glib
, he thought. He congratulated himself.
“What’re you doing here?”
“Looking for you. We had a date.”
“Not till . . . Holy Christ! Look at
the time. Hey beautiful lady, I’m sorry. I got on the track
of something. I worked right through lunch. Give me a minute, will
you? I’ll finish up, call my secretary, and we can get
moving.” He grinned. “I have to check in. Education
didn’t wear the Old Earth off of him. You wouldn’t
believe the hell he gave me last night!”
He no longer felt the smile. She was turning him to gelatin
again.
Mouse did not answer his buzz. Niven would have been surprised
had he done so. The call was simply a ploy to get the data out of
Marya’s sight, and to seize time to create a plausible
structure of lies atop those he had just told.
He needed no story. Marya asked no questions except, “What
do you want to do?”
He almost replied with the hard truth.
“I’ve had it with work, but we about covered
everything last night. Angel City isn’t swing-town.”
Gallantly, he added, “I’m content just being with you.
You pick.”
She laughed. “And they say there’s no romance left
on Old Earth. How about we just go for a walk? I feel like a good
long one.”
“Uh . . . ” His hands started
shaking.
He had gotten out young, but the lessons of an Old Earth’s
childhood died hard. People who did not learn them young also died
hard. Not to walk the streets without a gang of friends was one of
the strictest lessons of the motherworld.
This was not Old Earth. Death did not make the streets its home
here. But the sticktights did lurk there, and they might up the
ante in the game at any minute.
“How come you’re grinning?”
“That’s no grin, lady. That’s what they call a
rictus. Of fear. I’m Old Earther. You know how hard it would
be for me to walk down a street without at least fifty guys to back
me up?”
“I forgot. But there’s nothing to
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