ignored the
possibility completely. Survival had become the stake on the
board.
He dared not let her know he was suspicious. “All
right.” He looked around fearfully, having no trouble
projecting shakiness and confusion. “But I’ve got to do
a couple of things first.”
Their eyes met. And he knew. He did not want it to be, but it
was true. She was the enemy. Right now she was trying to find an
excuse to stay close to him that would not arouse his
suspicions.
She was not a good actress. Under stress she could not control
the body language signals that betrayed her thoughts.
He felt betrayed and hurt, though he had known her just one
day.
He had always needed to be wanted. Not for whom or what he was,
but just as a human being.
Human. Was she even human? There was no sure way of telling
without complicated tests. Geneticists were certain that humanity
and the Sangaree shared a prehistoric ancestry.
She might even be the new Sangaree Resident. The last one had
been a woman.
“Where do you stay?” he asked.
She chose not to push. She explained how he could get to her
apartment.
“You don’t have to do this,” he told her, then
cursed silently. By saying that, he had tacitly admitted being the
sniper’s target. But sometimes it was necessary to take
chances. He could at least feed her belief in his lack of
suspicion. “It might be dangerous.”
“That’s all right. I’ve never been involved in
anything like this.” Feigned excitement illuminated her face.
“What have I gotten myself into, Gun?”
It was smoke screen time. “Sweetheart, I don’t know.
I really don’t. This is the second time I’ve been
jumped, but nobody bothered to tell me why last time either. They
tried it right in the Marcos before. The day we got here. And we
don’t even know anybody here. But people have been following
me all the time, and . . . If you’re an
Old Earther, you sense things like that.”
“Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s your
friend.”
“John? I never thought of that. I guess it’s
possible. I don’t really know anything about him. The
Corporation sent him. Anyway, whatever’s going on, I mean to
find out.”
He had yielded just enough distorted truth, he hoped, to leave
her with doubts. A lot depended on whether or not the opposition
had been able to evade Mouse’s bug-scans.
“Will you be all right, Marya? Should I walk you
home?”
“I’ll manage.”
“Probably be safer without me, anyway. See you in a
while.” He glanced at the dead man, then the streets. Not a
soul was stirring.
It was odd how people sensed a gathering storm, then stayed
inside where they would witness nothing and run no risks. Though
this was a warehouse district, there should have been some traffic.
Hell. Where were the security patrols? Where were the police
cruisers?
He had seen the same thing happen on Old Earth, where the gangs
went to their guns at the slightest provocation. Citizens and
enforcers always kept a low profile till the stink of gunsmoke left
the air.
Mouse was not at the first fallback, nor had he left a message.
Niven did find a hastily scribbled message at the second. It told
him that Marya was the new Sangaree Resident. And, as if in
afterthought, Mouse went on to say that he was on the run from a
dozen men who had gotten onto him after the incident at the
warehouse.
Niven scratched a reply, explaining where he would be. The drop
was large, so he left the notes he had taken at the Med Center.
Those had to be salvaged no matter what. Maybe by Chief Navy
Recruiter for The Broken Wings. He was the Bureau Angel City
station chief.
Niven began drifting, killing time in order to give Marya a
chance to make a move that would illuminate the outfit’s
current thinking. After an hour he picked up a sticktight.
His shadow was a sleepy-faced thug pretending to be a derelict.
A not-too-bright offworlder, Niven decided. Angel City was too
young and thoroughly ordered to sustain even a one-man
possibility completely. Survival had become the stake on the
board.
He dared not let her know he was suspicious. “All
right.” He looked around fearfully, having no trouble
projecting shakiness and confusion. “But I’ve got to do
a couple of things first.”
Their eyes met. And he knew. He did not want it to be, but it
was true. She was the enemy. Right now she was trying to find an
excuse to stay close to him that would not arouse his
suspicions.
She was not a good actress. Under stress she could not control
the body language signals that betrayed her thoughts.
He felt betrayed and hurt, though he had known her just one
day.
He had always needed to be wanted. Not for whom or what he was,
but just as a human being.
Human. Was she even human? There was no sure way of telling
without complicated tests. Geneticists were certain that humanity
and the Sangaree shared a prehistoric ancestry.
She might even be the new Sangaree Resident. The last one had
been a woman.
“Where do you stay?” he asked.
She chose not to push. She explained how he could get to her
apartment.
“You don’t have to do this,” he told her, then
cursed silently. By saying that, he had tacitly admitted being the
sniper’s target. But sometimes it was necessary to take
chances. He could at least feed her belief in his lack of
suspicion. “It might be dangerous.”
“That’s all right. I’ve never been involved in
anything like this.” Feigned excitement illuminated her face.
“What have I gotten myself into, Gun?”
It was smoke screen time. “Sweetheart, I don’t know.
I really don’t. This is the second time I’ve been
jumped, but nobody bothered to tell me why last time either. They
tried it right in the Marcos before. The day we got here. And we
don’t even know anybody here. But people have been following
me all the time, and . . . If you’re an
Old Earther, you sense things like that.”
“Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s your
friend.”
“John? I never thought of that. I guess it’s
possible. I don’t really know anything about him. The
Corporation sent him. Anyway, whatever’s going on, I mean to
find out.”
He had yielded just enough distorted truth, he hoped, to leave
her with doubts. A lot depended on whether or not the opposition
had been able to evade Mouse’s bug-scans.
“Will you be all right, Marya? Should I walk you
home?”
“I’ll manage.”
“Probably be safer without me, anyway. See you in a
while.” He glanced at the dead man, then the streets. Not a
soul was stirring.
It was odd how people sensed a gathering storm, then stayed
inside where they would witness nothing and run no risks. Though
this was a warehouse district, there should have been some traffic.
Hell. Where were the security patrols? Where were the police
cruisers?
He had seen the same thing happen on Old Earth, where the gangs
went to their guns at the slightest provocation. Citizens and
enforcers always kept a low profile till the stink of gunsmoke left
the air.
Mouse was not at the first fallback, nor had he left a message.
Niven did find a hastily scribbled message at the second. It told
him that Marya was the new Sangaree Resident. And, as if in
afterthought, Mouse went on to say that he was on the run from a
dozen men who had gotten onto him after the incident at the
warehouse.
Niven scratched a reply, explaining where he would be. The drop
was large, so he left the notes he had taken at the Med Center.
Those had to be salvaged no matter what. Maybe by Chief Navy
Recruiter for The Broken Wings. He was the Bureau Angel City
station chief.
Niven began drifting, killing time in order to give Marya a
chance to make a move that would illuminate the outfit’s
current thinking. After an hour he picked up a sticktight.
His shadow was a sleepy-faced thug pretending to be a derelict.
A not-too-bright offworlder, Niven decided. Angel City was too
young and thoroughly ordered to sustain even a one-man
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